starphotographs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starphotographs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-07-18 04:13 am
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-18 04:13 am
Milk Bottle 2, Folly 13, Baby Pink 30
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Summer Carnival)
Characters: Spenser (POV), Piston
Colors: Milk Bottle 2 (Ferris Wheel), Folly 13 (You're sure the power's off?), Baby Pink 30 (You're the best thing that ever happened to me.)
Word Count: 1,227
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Spenser and Piston take a ride.
Note: Piston needed to be introduced, and this is as good a way as any. Also, this is the mushiest thing I’ve ever written and I apologize.
Stopping the Clock
Best ride ever, best vacation ever, best girl ever, oh shitfuck, how did I get here, I can’t even handle this.
The rusty wheel was creaking its rickety way to the apex, the crater was deep and vast below and in front of us, and Piston was tracing her fingers up and down my spine. She was probably talking. And I should probably be listening. But I was just too caught up in how great everything was to pay attention to it all at once. Get your shit together, bucko.
“…Huh, what?”
“Dork! I was trying to tell you… Whoa, look at that guy!”
Sometimes, Piston will be listening or talking, completely wrapped up in a conversation, and then suddenly snap to attention and point out something she saw from the corner of her eye. And I guess I do that, too, but that’s me being scatterbrained, and not particularly impressive. Piston just sees all. That’s how attentive she is. And how I know she’s some kind of genius. Nothing escapes the grand machinery of her head. This time, she was pointing towards the crater, where people were driving around like maniacs in the dust. We’d been down there yesterday, and I wanted to go again today. But for now, we were here.
…Well, anyway, what she was pointing at a was guy doing some impressively tight donuts, who would occasionally stop spinning to choose another location. His normal driving made him look drunk as fuck, which only added to the general effect. He must have been very talented.
“Wow, that dude’s nuts! …Okay, yeah, what were you saying?”
The wheel kept turning, and the rim of the crater crept upwards, burying the action. Piston punched me in the shoulder. I liked it. I thought, harder now, right in the face, but I decided against saying that out loud. At least not until we’d been together a few more months.
“…I was saying, that, well, y’know how my parents gave me such a screwball name?”
I loved her name. It was speed and power and rumbling engines. Sometimes, I thanked gods I didn’t believe in that her parents were weird.
“Hey, I like your name!”
“…Still screwy! I mean, dude, how many fuckin’ Pistons do you know? And yeah, anyway, when we went on vacation when I was little, I always liked those mini license plates with names on them. But, you know how it is. They don’t make one that says Piston, because, like… Why?”
I put my arm around her. We were almost down on the ground with the rabble, so our conversation was starting to feel a hell of a lot less intimate. Getting closer fixed that.
“…‘Cause they knew you were comin’?”
“That’s the thing, though, they didn’t! So I decided to start goin’ by Tony so I could at least find my name in, like, the boy plates.”
That was just about the cutest thing I’d ever heard, so I hugged her extra tight.
“Tony!”
She pulled me into what ended up being an improvised headlock.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s not that cool a name, ya big lug.”
“Shut the fuck up! It’s your name, so it’s fuckin’ cool. Deal with it!”
“Tony” kicked my leg with her little booted foot. It actually kind of hurt, but I didn’t care. She was the one who did it, so it was part of the whole awesome experience. I thought of suggesting she do it again, just because it was the only second I might be able to relieve if I asked nicely. But then I felt that second, and the next, and the next, drop away into the abyss, felt it settle to the bottom of the crater, scattering with the dust. Even now, we were rising up to the top of the wheel again, another revelation lost. I wanted to turn it back like a clock. I wanted things to work that way for real. Almost on the verge of panic, wanting to hold all my seconds at once.
The sun was low in the sky, and the day was already slip-sliding away. Even though it was perfect. Even though it was the kind of bright day when you can see the clouds getting tiny and piling up around the horizon. The kind where instead of glaring white and stripping the color from the world, the sun melted onto everything and clarified it, making everything just too real. I wished that liquid sun could dry out and harden, protect the day. But the molten light was slippery and reflective on Piston’s coal-black hair and eyes. She made me think about volcanic glass. So I guess that was good enough for me.
“…What’re you starin’ at?”
“You! You’re shiny!”
I leaned over the rough, rusty old bar, practically breaking myself in half, still staring at her. She reached over and tried to mess up my hair.
“So’re you!”
“Not like you are.”
“…Are too! Like, your glasses. There’re really shiny. And some of the stuff on your arms.”
I looked down at my arms, where sections of the skin had been burned off so many times that they completely lost texture. The sun didn’t so much glance off those patches as fall away, murky and lifeless, like the last of the dead tissue had. Piston was still playing with my hair. I could feel it in my spinal cord, from my brainstem to the small of my back, and it made me close my eyes.
“…That feels nice.”
I didn’t want her to ever, ever stop. But, she did. As the wheel reached the bottom yet again, she clutched the bar, stuck out her neck, and shouted at the operator.
“…Stop it at the top!”
Figuring that might require some clarification, I joined in.
“With us at the top!”
I stabbed at the sky with my finger. Piston looked at me, then back at the operator.
“Yeah, us at the top!”
He shrugged. We whooped, even though we didn’t know if he was going to comply. Our seat was creaking towards the sun, and when we were almost there, it started to slow down. Piston leaned so far out of the bench that I worried she was about to fall on her head. I held her by the back of her shirt.
“Hey, we meant all the way stopped! Turn. It. Off!”
The wheel lurched, groaning mightily, practically giving us whiplash. That was a thrill in itself, and we were both laughing our asses off, knocking together until she practically wound up in my lap. Then I wrapped one arm around her, and used the free hand to smooth the back of her hair. It was so silky that it almost repelled me like a magnet, like black lodestone and glistening neodymium. I smiled.
“…You’re bossy.”
She smiled right back at me.
“I know.”
We kissed high above the asteroid-scared Earth, not even looking at the view we’d been demanding. So wrapped up in each other for so long that we started to feel the descent. The urge to turn back the hands was still there, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to think about something impossible. I wanted to concentrate on being together, right when and where we are. In this induplicable moment.
Together, we descended.
Just let the day slip away.
starphotographsStory: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Summer Carnival)
Characters: Spenser (POV), Piston
Colors: Milk Bottle 2 (Ferris Wheel), Folly 13 (You're sure the power's off?), Baby Pink 30 (You're the best thing that ever happened to me.)
Word Count: 1,227
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Spenser and Piston take a ride.
Note: Piston needed to be introduced, and this is as good a way as any. Also, this is the mushiest thing I’ve ever written and I apologize.
Best ride ever, best vacation ever, best girl ever, oh shitfuck, how did I get here, I can’t even handle this.
The rusty wheel was creaking its rickety way to the apex, the crater was deep and vast below and in front of us, and Piston was tracing her fingers up and down my spine. She was probably talking. And I should probably be listening. But I was just too caught up in how great everything was to pay attention to it all at once. Get your shit together, bucko.
“…Huh, what?”
“Dork! I was trying to tell you… Whoa, look at that guy!”
Sometimes, Piston will be listening or talking, completely wrapped up in a conversation, and then suddenly snap to attention and point out something she saw from the corner of her eye. And I guess I do that, too, but that’s me being scatterbrained, and not particularly impressive. Piston just sees all. That’s how attentive she is. And how I know she’s some kind of genius. Nothing escapes the grand machinery of her head. This time, she was pointing towards the crater, where people were driving around like maniacs in the dust. We’d been down there yesterday, and I wanted to go again today. But for now, we were here.
…Well, anyway, what she was pointing at a was guy doing some impressively tight donuts, who would occasionally stop spinning to choose another location. His normal driving made him look drunk as fuck, which only added to the general effect. He must have been very talented.
“Wow, that dude’s nuts! …Okay, yeah, what were you saying?”
The wheel kept turning, and the rim of the crater crept upwards, burying the action. Piston punched me in the shoulder. I liked it. I thought, harder now, right in the face, but I decided against saying that out loud. At least not until we’d been together a few more months.
“…I was saying, that, well, y’know how my parents gave me such a screwball name?”
I loved her name. It was speed and power and rumbling engines. Sometimes, I thanked gods I didn’t believe in that her parents were weird.
“Hey, I like your name!”
“…Still screwy! I mean, dude, how many fuckin’ Pistons do you know? And yeah, anyway, when we went on vacation when I was little, I always liked those mini license plates with names on them. But, you know how it is. They don’t make one that says Piston, because, like… Why?”
I put my arm around her. We were almost down on the ground with the rabble, so our conversation was starting to feel a hell of a lot less intimate. Getting closer fixed that.
“…‘Cause they knew you were comin’?”
“That’s the thing, though, they didn’t! So I decided to start goin’ by Tony so I could at least find my name in, like, the boy plates.”
That was just about the cutest thing I’d ever heard, so I hugged her extra tight.
“Tony!”
She pulled me into what ended up being an improvised headlock.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s not that cool a name, ya big lug.”
“Shut the fuck up! It’s your name, so it’s fuckin’ cool. Deal with it!”
“Tony” kicked my leg with her little booted foot. It actually kind of hurt, but I didn’t care. She was the one who did it, so it was part of the whole awesome experience. I thought of suggesting she do it again, just because it was the only second I might be able to relieve if I asked nicely. But then I felt that second, and the next, and the next, drop away into the abyss, felt it settle to the bottom of the crater, scattering with the dust. Even now, we were rising up to the top of the wheel again, another revelation lost. I wanted to turn it back like a clock. I wanted things to work that way for real. Almost on the verge of panic, wanting to hold all my seconds at once.
The sun was low in the sky, and the day was already slip-sliding away. Even though it was perfect. Even though it was the kind of bright day when you can see the clouds getting tiny and piling up around the horizon. The kind where instead of glaring white and stripping the color from the world, the sun melted onto everything and clarified it, making everything just too real. I wished that liquid sun could dry out and harden, protect the day. But the molten light was slippery and reflective on Piston’s coal-black hair and eyes. She made me think about volcanic glass. So I guess that was good enough for me.
“…What’re you starin’ at?”
“You! You’re shiny!”
I leaned over the rough, rusty old bar, practically breaking myself in half, still staring at her. She reached over and tried to mess up my hair.
“So’re you!”
“Not like you are.”
“…Are too! Like, your glasses. There’re really shiny. And some of the stuff on your arms.”
I looked down at my arms, where sections of the skin had been burned off so many times that they completely lost texture. The sun didn’t so much glance off those patches as fall away, murky and lifeless, like the last of the dead tissue had. Piston was still playing with my hair. I could feel it in my spinal cord, from my brainstem to the small of my back, and it made me close my eyes.
“…That feels nice.”
I didn’t want her to ever, ever stop. But, she did. As the wheel reached the bottom yet again, she clutched the bar, stuck out her neck, and shouted at the operator.
“…Stop it at the top!”
Figuring that might require some clarification, I joined in.
“With us at the top!”
I stabbed at the sky with my finger. Piston looked at me, then back at the operator.
“Yeah, us at the top!”
He shrugged. We whooped, even though we didn’t know if he was going to comply. Our seat was creaking towards the sun, and when we were almost there, it started to slow down. Piston leaned so far out of the bench that I worried she was about to fall on her head. I held her by the back of her shirt.
“Hey, we meant all the way stopped! Turn. It. Off!”
The wheel lurched, groaning mightily, practically giving us whiplash. That was a thrill in itself, and we were both laughing our asses off, knocking together until she practically wound up in my lap. Then I wrapped one arm around her, and used the free hand to smooth the back of her hair. It was so silky that it almost repelled me like a magnet, like black lodestone and glistening neodymium. I smiled.
“…You’re bossy.”
She smiled right back at me.
“I know.”
We kissed high above the asteroid-scared Earth, not even looking at the view we’d been demanding. So wrapped up in each other for so long that we started to feel the descent. The urge to turn back the hands was still there, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to think about something impossible. I wanted to concentrate on being together, right when and where we are. In this induplicable moment.
Together, we descended.
Just let the day slip away.
no subject
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject