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rainbowfic2016-05-18 11:58 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2016-05-18 11:58 pm
Entry tags:
Meme Party 12
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Canvas
Characters: Mischa (POV), Spenser
Colors: Meme Party 12 (Cool story bro.)
Word Count: 1,318
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Mischa learns some interesting things.
Note: x-post to tumblr for the Dare to Write Challenge
Magnets
Spenser was showing me how to make little lights. Magnets, batteries, tiny plastic bulbs, and a bit of electrical tape. All of these things, I had stolen, because he’d promised to teach me something cool if I could scare up the stuff for it. So I went into the store, pretending to unsuccessfully browse for headphones, and came out with everything we needed. Later, I found him waiting in the gravel lot, elbows resting on a big plastic bucket.
He got to work, then grabbed my hand and placed a little green light on my bracelet, which was actually some weird chain that reminded me of a old man’s wristwatch, which I found by stepping on it barefoot in a parking lot. The bulb glowed, as if powered by his electric hand. Actually, I could believe that. He could take any gross old pile of scrap and make it go, giving life like Dr. Frankenstein with a small shock from his fingertips.
...And, moments after the demonstration should have been over, the light was still glowing. Those magic hands still held mine. I swore I felt his sparks travelling through me, but I knew it was just my own body trying to get my brain to think faster, figure out what to do, now. I already knew how much I liked him. I liked him so much that I’d actually thought about telling him. Which was something new. I’d never liked a boy before. Actually, I kind of resented them, because people always mistook me for one. So I ignored them completely, figuring that, if my world was nothing but girls, I couldn’t be seen as anything but. That wasn’t how it worked from the outside, but I didn’t live out there. I only lived in my own life. And I figured Spenser could come along, if he wanted. He didn’t count. Like everyone else, he assumed, at first, that I was a boy, and a few years younger than I am, but when I corrected him, it was like he never thought about it again. There was no “oh, but you looked… I thought...” Just an unannounced switch to “she,” which was pretty damn refreshing. And now, he was holding my hand.
Except, he wasn’t. Not really.
His body was frozen, and his eyes were rolling back in his head, like a puppet in a movie that’s supposed to scare you but just looks so corny and ugly that you want to kick its stupid wooden teeth in. I’d never felt like such a jackass in my life.
“Hey, asshole! Cut it out!”
I chose my words so it would be easy to believe I was yelling at him, and not my own idiot self. Then I jerked on his hand so he’d elbow himself in the side. He blinked once, and then looked down at the still-glowing light on my wrist.
“...Wait, what?”
I gritted my teeth.
“You always do that! And it’s always when I’m trying to talk to you!”
With my free hand, I clocked him on the shoulder.
“Sorry. It’s just, like, little seizures. Pain in the fuckin’ ass, yeah?”
Well, now I just felt terrible. I’d yelled at someone with an actual medical issue, and it wasn’t the first time. Once, I told some dude who was holding up a line at a taco truck to “move his fucking ass,” before I noticed he only had one leg. I still haven’t lived that down.
“Shit! Dude, I-”
He shrugged.
“No problem. You didn’t know. And even if you, like, did, you’re right. I do always do it when I talk to you!”
Spenser laughed. When he laughed, I knew I could say anything to him. And the real wonderful thing is, he usually did.
“So fuck, what, you’re saying I give you seizures!?”
I punched his shoulder again. He shook his head.
“Nah, I got hit by lightning when I was twelve, and now I’m, like, fuckin’ glitchy or some shit. I just talk to you a lot is all.”
Normally, I would have tried to figure out if he was saying that he especially liked spending time with me, or just stating an obvious fact, running his mouth like usual. But, this time, that wasn’t the part worth thinking about.
“Wait, back the fuck up! You’re lying!”
Another punch from me. Another laugh from him.
“Am not! Seriously! It’s why I got sent to the last place I lived, because I guess that blew the lid off those people, like, not really watching their kids. I’m deaf in my left ear. My eardrum, like, exploded. It bled for a while. Pretty gross!”
Hearing that, I reflexively turned my new earring, still raw and cereal-crunchy from when I punched the hole last week. It bled a little, but probably less than his had back then. He turned his head. I looked at his ear. It just looked like an ear, but below it, a scar that looked like a pink twig ran towards and under his shirt collar. So I guess he wasn’t lying after all.
“...Whoa.”
Spenser laughed. At what, I didn’t know. Sometimes, he just did. I think it’s like how most people mumble out some stupid response when they don’t know what to say. But, Spenser laughs instead. He’s beautiful.
“Yeah, it was actually pretty whoa! Crazy storm that day. Wanna, like, see the rest of my scar?”
He probably showed it to everyone who ever got him on the subject, but I still felt like I was about to see something interesting and rare.
“Okay… Sure!”
He did his little space-filling laugh again, and pivoted around on his butt, gravel crunching under him. Then he flipped up the back of his dirty grey t-shirt.
Underneath, he was a lot smaller and whiter than he looked. The scar was kind of a bad fit for him; huge and burning red. It looked like a skinned knee does during that in-between stage, when the scab falls off, but the skin is still all rubbery and itchy. Apparently, Spenser had been in-between for years now, but it didn’t seem like it bugged him much. He must have had a sturdy mind, to deal with something so annoying for so long. He’d survived what my father always told me would just make you explode where you stood, and ended up with nothing but a bum ear and some empty spots in his head. He let me play-punch him all I wanted when I got so frustrated I couldn’t contain it, and laughed at everything, so maybe it was just that something in there, something I couldn’t see, was big enough to hold it all. Maybe that’s how he can bring machines to life out of nothing. It’s the lightning in him.
I mean, I know that’s not a thing. But, if I was writing the story of his life, that’s how I would say it happened. He would swallow a lightning bolt, raise an army of engines, and give me his heart.
When he was sure I’d gotten a good look, he dropped his shirt and faced me again.
“...Alright! Back to work, slacker!”
He smiled, then looked down at the upturned mop bucket we’d been using as a work bench, and started bending, stacking, taping; so intently that it was like there was nothing else to do in this world. As I started working on my own lights, I looked at the one still glowing on my wrist.
It was only then that it occurred to me: from the time he started explaining his problem to the time he turned to lift his shirt, he hadn’t let go of my hand.
I decided I wouldn’t wreck it by figuring out what that means.
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Canvas
Characters: Mischa (POV), Spenser
Colors: Meme Party 12 (Cool story bro.)
Word Count: 1,318
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Mischa learns some interesting things.
Note: x-post to tumblr for the Dare to Write Challenge
Spenser was showing me how to make little lights. Magnets, batteries, tiny plastic bulbs, and a bit of electrical tape. All of these things, I had stolen, because he’d promised to teach me something cool if I could scare up the stuff for it. So I went into the store, pretending to unsuccessfully browse for headphones, and came out with everything we needed. Later, I found him waiting in the gravel lot, elbows resting on a big plastic bucket.
He got to work, then grabbed my hand and placed a little green light on my bracelet, which was actually some weird chain that reminded me of a old man’s wristwatch, which I found by stepping on it barefoot in a parking lot. The bulb glowed, as if powered by his electric hand. Actually, I could believe that. He could take any gross old pile of scrap and make it go, giving life like Dr. Frankenstein with a small shock from his fingertips.
...And, moments after the demonstration should have been over, the light was still glowing. Those magic hands still held mine. I swore I felt his sparks travelling through me, but I knew it was just my own body trying to get my brain to think faster, figure out what to do, now. I already knew how much I liked him. I liked him so much that I’d actually thought about telling him. Which was something new. I’d never liked a boy before. Actually, I kind of resented them, because people always mistook me for one. So I ignored them completely, figuring that, if my world was nothing but girls, I couldn’t be seen as anything but. That wasn’t how it worked from the outside, but I didn’t live out there. I only lived in my own life. And I figured Spenser could come along, if he wanted. He didn’t count. Like everyone else, he assumed, at first, that I was a boy, and a few years younger than I am, but when I corrected him, it was like he never thought about it again. There was no “oh, but you looked… I thought...” Just an unannounced switch to “she,” which was pretty damn refreshing. And now, he was holding my hand.
Except, he wasn’t. Not really.
His body was frozen, and his eyes were rolling back in his head, like a puppet in a movie that’s supposed to scare you but just looks so corny and ugly that you want to kick its stupid wooden teeth in. I’d never felt like such a jackass in my life.
“Hey, asshole! Cut it out!”
I chose my words so it would be easy to believe I was yelling at him, and not my own idiot self. Then I jerked on his hand so he’d elbow himself in the side. He blinked once, and then looked down at the still-glowing light on my wrist.
“...Wait, what?”
I gritted my teeth.
“You always do that! And it’s always when I’m trying to talk to you!”
With my free hand, I clocked him on the shoulder.
“Sorry. It’s just, like, little seizures. Pain in the fuckin’ ass, yeah?”
Well, now I just felt terrible. I’d yelled at someone with an actual medical issue, and it wasn’t the first time. Once, I told some dude who was holding up a line at a taco truck to “move his fucking ass,” before I noticed he only had one leg. I still haven’t lived that down.
“Shit! Dude, I-”
He shrugged.
“No problem. You didn’t know. And even if you, like, did, you’re right. I do always do it when I talk to you!”
Spenser laughed. When he laughed, I knew I could say anything to him. And the real wonderful thing is, he usually did.
“So fuck, what, you’re saying I give you seizures!?”
I punched his shoulder again. He shook his head.
“Nah, I got hit by lightning when I was twelve, and now I’m, like, fuckin’ glitchy or some shit. I just talk to you a lot is all.”
Normally, I would have tried to figure out if he was saying that he especially liked spending time with me, or just stating an obvious fact, running his mouth like usual. But, this time, that wasn’t the part worth thinking about.
“Wait, back the fuck up! You’re lying!”
Another punch from me. Another laugh from him.
“Am not! Seriously! It’s why I got sent to the last place I lived, because I guess that blew the lid off those people, like, not really watching their kids. I’m deaf in my left ear. My eardrum, like, exploded. It bled for a while. Pretty gross!”
Hearing that, I reflexively turned my new earring, still raw and cereal-crunchy from when I punched the hole last week. It bled a little, but probably less than his had back then. He turned his head. I looked at his ear. It just looked like an ear, but below it, a scar that looked like a pink twig ran towards and under his shirt collar. So I guess he wasn’t lying after all.
“...Whoa.”
Spenser laughed. At what, I didn’t know. Sometimes, he just did. I think it’s like how most people mumble out some stupid response when they don’t know what to say. But, Spenser laughs instead. He’s beautiful.
“Yeah, it was actually pretty whoa! Crazy storm that day. Wanna, like, see the rest of my scar?”
He probably showed it to everyone who ever got him on the subject, but I still felt like I was about to see something interesting and rare.
“Okay… Sure!”
He did his little space-filling laugh again, and pivoted around on his butt, gravel crunching under him. Then he flipped up the back of his dirty grey t-shirt.
Underneath, he was a lot smaller and whiter than he looked. The scar was kind of a bad fit for him; huge and burning red. It looked like a skinned knee does during that in-between stage, when the scab falls off, but the skin is still all rubbery and itchy. Apparently, Spenser had been in-between for years now, but it didn’t seem like it bugged him much. He must have had a sturdy mind, to deal with something so annoying for so long. He’d survived what my father always told me would just make you explode where you stood, and ended up with nothing but a bum ear and some empty spots in his head. He let me play-punch him all I wanted when I got so frustrated I couldn’t contain it, and laughed at everything, so maybe it was just that something in there, something I couldn’t see, was big enough to hold it all. Maybe that’s how he can bring machines to life out of nothing. It’s the lightning in him.
I mean, I know that’s not a thing. But, if I was writing the story of his life, that’s how I would say it happened. He would swallow a lightning bolt, raise an army of engines, and give me his heart.
When he was sure I’d gotten a good look, he dropped his shirt and faced me again.
“...Alright! Back to work, slacker!”
He smiled, then looked down at the upturned mop bucket we’d been using as a work bench, and started bending, stacking, taping; so intently that it was like there was nothing else to do in this world. As I started working on my own lights, I looked at the one still glowing on my wrist.
It was only then that it occurred to me: from the time he started explaining his problem to the time he turned to lift his shirt, he hadn’t let go of my hand.
I decided I wouldn’t wreck it by figuring out what that means.
no subject
Mischa's crush is lovely. :)
no subject