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rainbowfic2013-11-04 03:41 pm
justice_turtle) wrote in rainbowfic2013-11-04 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
- author: justice_turtle,
- color: cloud white,
- color: french grey,
- color: vellum,
- story: mort/james,
- style: collage,
- style: mosaic,
- supply: acrylic,
- supply: brush,
- supply: eraser,
- supply: feathers,
- supply: glitter,
- supply: glue,
- supply: modeling clay,
- supply: novelty beads,
- supply: oils,
- supply: pastels,
- supply: stain,
- supply: watercolors,
- supply: yarn
(no subject)
Name: JT
Story: Mort/James
Colors: Cloud White 3: Nimbus, French Grey 4: Some of you rich men have to be taught that all the world cannot be bribed into condoning your offences, Vellum 6: Sic
Supplies and Styles: Collage, Mosaic, Eraser (the James And Joy Rule The World AU that I've been discussing with Kat for a while), Brush (lade), Acrylic, Watercolors ("Write hard and clear about what hurts" -- Hemingway), Oils (home cooking), Stain ("You can't say that civilization don't advance, however, for in every war they kill you in a new way." -- Will Rogers), Feathers ("You aren't worth another sleepless night." -- unattributed), Modeling Clay (Stereotypes), Pastels (promises made), Novelty Beads, Yarn, Glitter ("Times have not become more violent. They have just become more televised." -- Marilyn Manson), Glue ("this high level of intensity can also bring anger to the surface, so find ways to burn off your unexpressed feelings")
Word Count: 1,203
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Swearing
Notes: So, uh, I kind of got mad and stuff happened. This story starts while Mort and James are living together in James's van, after Mort has been trying to get a job for a while in order to leave and settle down in an apartment.
Summary: James takes over the world. Not part of the Superhero AU.
Mort hung up the cell phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and shut his eyes.
"Another rejection?" James asked quietly, setting down the frying pan he'd been scrubbing. Mort had been at this for going on ten months now, and neither one of them really believed any more that it was going to work.
Mort nodded. "Number three hundred and forty-seven, give or take." He pulled his job-hunting notebook out of one of the many storage pockets inside the van and scratched out another possibility. "Veterans' hiring initiatives, my ass."
"Yeah, that shit is all PR and no jobs," James agreed. "There've been studies."
Mort pulled up his left leg -- the one that still worked properly -- and wrapped his arms around it, staring off into the distance. "I just... I just want a chance, you know?" he muttered, not quite too softly for James to hear. "I just want to get back on my feet. Go to a fucking job every day and pay rent like a normal human being, you know? No offense."
"None taken," James said. He picked up the frying pan and started scrubbing it again, thinking hard.
After a few minutes, Mort flopped back onto the floor of the van, but James kept scrubbing and thinking. Finally, he put the frying pan down again and stood up.
"You know what?" he said, and the brisk snap in his voice made Mort sit up and look at him.
"What?" Mort asked rather warily. James knew his am-I-going-to-regret-this voice very, very well.
"Fuck the system," James said. "It's not working for us. I'm going to take over the world."
Mort blinked; James could see about half a dozen answers all trying to come out of his mouth first, but what he finally said was, "But you're not a supervillain."
James laughed. "Oh, watch me!" Then, since Mort still looked worried, he sat down next to him and said more calmly, "Look, Mortimer -- I promise not to get killed or anything, but this has really gone far enough. I can't watch you go over this again, how you did your fucking patriotic duty and now the country you fought for has crumpled you up and thrown you away like a wet paper towel. I'm just... it's not working, we have to try something else."
Mort hugged his leg tighter for a second and tucked his chin down, huddling. "Well, if you have some idea for how to punch the military-industrial complex in the face while remaining a pacifist, be my guest," he said wryly. "That's the only plan I've got."
James wrapped one arm around Mort's shoulders and hugged him. "Oh, it's so much better a plan than that."
*************
The first part of the plan, as far as Mort ever found out, was to find a safe place for him to stay, with one of James's many friends -- a pretty blonde woman named Joy, who apparently worked as a stripper in New York City. Mort spent most of his time in her apartment curled up in an easy chair or on the sofa, reading library books.
The second part of the plan, or at least the next one Mort knew about, happened about a month later, when Joy came home in the early morning and found Mort sitting on the sofa, knitting nervously and wishing James had mentioned when he might be back.
"Hello, Joy," Mort said when she came in.
Joy set her purse down on the folding chair by the door. Like James, she smiled almost all the time, and right now her blue eyes were laughing. "Good morning, Mort. Did you see James on TV last night?"
"What?" Mort blurted. "No, no I didn't. What did he do?"
Joy laughed aloud. "Only announced on national television that he was going to take over the world. You know, I'm not asking what's going on between the two of you, but whatever it is, you have an amazing whatever-he-is-to-you."
Mort snorted. "Believe me, I know. Did he get arrested? How is he going to take over the world? He wouldn't tell me. How do you know?"
"TV at the club. It wasn't just one story. He somehow managed to coordinate all these TV commercials, magazine and newspaper ads, national news segments, appearances on major talk shows, and I don't know what all else to... to create a movement, really. He's taken over pretty much the entire media by force of charisma, and he's using his new power to redirect all the money that goes into conspicuous consumption every year in America into charity work."
"He... he what?" Mort stammered. He felt a little overwhelmed.
"In simplest terms, he got some of the richest people in the world together with some people not a lot richer than he is himself, and they created a publicity campaign about how the system is broken and anyone who has any money to spare needs to take matters into their own hands -- help people without expecting anything back except a healthier economy and a better world. And he -- I don't even know how he did it, but you know how he kind of..."
"He's a whirlwind," said Mort firmly. "He turns into this tornado of enthusiasm and before you know where you are, you're on a three-week trip to the Great Smokies or something. Yeah, I know."
Joy laughed again. "Exactly. Well, he apparently did that to the whole world, to try to get everyone to think of one thing they know is broken -- a school system they won't send their kids to, or an insurance plan from their work that they won't take -- and try to fix it. And I think he's actually making a difference."
Mort tried to say something, but he found he was crying instead. Joy offered him a hug; he pulled her down next to him, and she wrapped her arms around him, patting his back, letting him cry.
************
Three months later, when Joy came home, James was with her. "Who's the king of the world?" he asked, waving his long arms in the air.
"The answer, so you know," Joy told Mort in a mock-confidential tone, "is 'You are'. He doesn't actually have the title... yet."
James strode over to the couch and sat down next to Mort. "I don't want the title," he said cheerfully. "Did you see the Times editorial yesterday?"
"No," Mort said, "but I'm sure you have a clipping -- James. This isn't the New York Ti..." He trailed off, staring with his mouth open at the newspaper clipping.
"It's the Times of London," James confirmed. "I've gone global. Or at least English-language global. There's more work to do, but I think the rest will come in time."
Mort finished skimming the Times clipping, which talked about the ongoing social revolution for the voluntary redistribution of wealth, spearheaded by American artist James Cowan, whose recent media campaign blah, blah, blah... "You did it. James, what the hell did you do." He leaned over on James's shoulder, stunned.
"I'll just leave the two of you to get reacquainted," Joy remarked cheerfully. "Want me to order pizza?"
Story: Mort/James
Colors: Cloud White 3: Nimbus, French Grey 4: Some of you rich men have to be taught that all the world cannot be bribed into condoning your offences, Vellum 6: Sic
Supplies and Styles: Collage, Mosaic, Eraser (the James And Joy Rule The World AU that I've been discussing with Kat for a while), Brush (lade), Acrylic, Watercolors ("Write hard and clear about what hurts" -- Hemingway), Oils (home cooking), Stain ("You can't say that civilization don't advance, however, for in every war they kill you in a new way." -- Will Rogers), Feathers ("You aren't worth another sleepless night." -- unattributed), Modeling Clay (Stereotypes), Pastels (promises made), Novelty Beads, Yarn, Glitter ("Times have not become more violent. They have just become more televised." -- Marilyn Manson), Glue ("this high level of intensity can also bring anger to the surface, so find ways to burn off your unexpressed feelings")
Word Count: 1,203
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Swearing
Notes: So, uh, I kind of got mad and stuff happened. This story starts while Mort and James are living together in James's van, after Mort has been trying to get a job for a while in order to leave and settle down in an apartment.
Summary: James takes over the world. Not part of the Superhero AU.
Mort hung up the cell phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and shut his eyes.
"Another rejection?" James asked quietly, setting down the frying pan he'd been scrubbing. Mort had been at this for going on ten months now, and neither one of them really believed any more that it was going to work.
Mort nodded. "Number three hundred and forty-seven, give or take." He pulled his job-hunting notebook out of one of the many storage pockets inside the van and scratched out another possibility. "Veterans' hiring initiatives, my ass."
"Yeah, that shit is all PR and no jobs," James agreed. "There've been studies."
Mort pulled up his left leg -- the one that still worked properly -- and wrapped his arms around it, staring off into the distance. "I just... I just want a chance, you know?" he muttered, not quite too softly for James to hear. "I just want to get back on my feet. Go to a fucking job every day and pay rent like a normal human being, you know? No offense."
"None taken," James said. He picked up the frying pan and started scrubbing it again, thinking hard.
After a few minutes, Mort flopped back onto the floor of the van, but James kept scrubbing and thinking. Finally, he put the frying pan down again and stood up.
"You know what?" he said, and the brisk snap in his voice made Mort sit up and look at him.
"What?" Mort asked rather warily. James knew his am-I-going-to-regret-this voice very, very well.
"Fuck the system," James said. "It's not working for us. I'm going to take over the world."
Mort blinked; James could see about half a dozen answers all trying to come out of his mouth first, but what he finally said was, "But you're not a supervillain."
James laughed. "Oh, watch me!" Then, since Mort still looked worried, he sat down next to him and said more calmly, "Look, Mortimer -- I promise not to get killed or anything, but this has really gone far enough. I can't watch you go over this again, how you did your fucking patriotic duty and now the country you fought for has crumpled you up and thrown you away like a wet paper towel. I'm just... it's not working, we have to try something else."
Mort hugged his leg tighter for a second and tucked his chin down, huddling. "Well, if you have some idea for how to punch the military-industrial complex in the face while remaining a pacifist, be my guest," he said wryly. "That's the only plan I've got."
James wrapped one arm around Mort's shoulders and hugged him. "Oh, it's so much better a plan than that."
*************
The first part of the plan, as far as Mort ever found out, was to find a safe place for him to stay, with one of James's many friends -- a pretty blonde woman named Joy, who apparently worked as a stripper in New York City. Mort spent most of his time in her apartment curled up in an easy chair or on the sofa, reading library books.
The second part of the plan, or at least the next one Mort knew about, happened about a month later, when Joy came home in the early morning and found Mort sitting on the sofa, knitting nervously and wishing James had mentioned when he might be back.
"Hello, Joy," Mort said when she came in.
Joy set her purse down on the folding chair by the door. Like James, she smiled almost all the time, and right now her blue eyes were laughing. "Good morning, Mort. Did you see James on TV last night?"
"What?" Mort blurted. "No, no I didn't. What did he do?"
Joy laughed aloud. "Only announced on national television that he was going to take over the world. You know, I'm not asking what's going on between the two of you, but whatever it is, you have an amazing whatever-he-is-to-you."
Mort snorted. "Believe me, I know. Did he get arrested? How is he going to take over the world? He wouldn't tell me. How do you know?"
"TV at the club. It wasn't just one story. He somehow managed to coordinate all these TV commercials, magazine and newspaper ads, national news segments, appearances on major talk shows, and I don't know what all else to... to create a movement, really. He's taken over pretty much the entire media by force of charisma, and he's using his new power to redirect all the money that goes into conspicuous consumption every year in America into charity work."
"He... he what?" Mort stammered. He felt a little overwhelmed.
"In simplest terms, he got some of the richest people in the world together with some people not a lot richer than he is himself, and they created a publicity campaign about how the system is broken and anyone who has any money to spare needs to take matters into their own hands -- help people without expecting anything back except a healthier economy and a better world. And he -- I don't even know how he did it, but you know how he kind of..."
"He's a whirlwind," said Mort firmly. "He turns into this tornado of enthusiasm and before you know where you are, you're on a three-week trip to the Great Smokies or something. Yeah, I know."
Joy laughed again. "Exactly. Well, he apparently did that to the whole world, to try to get everyone to think of one thing they know is broken -- a school system they won't send their kids to, or an insurance plan from their work that they won't take -- and try to fix it. And I think he's actually making a difference."
Mort tried to say something, but he found he was crying instead. Joy offered him a hug; he pulled her down next to him, and she wrapped her arms around him, patting his back, letting him cry.
************
Three months later, when Joy came home, James was with her. "Who's the king of the world?" he asked, waving his long arms in the air.
"The answer, so you know," Joy told Mort in a mock-confidential tone, "is 'You are'. He doesn't actually have the title... yet."
James strode over to the couch and sat down next to Mort. "I don't want the title," he said cheerfully. "Did you see the Times editorial yesterday?"
"No," Mort said, "but I'm sure you have a clipping -- James. This isn't the New York Ti..." He trailed off, staring with his mouth open at the newspaper clipping.
"It's the Times of London," James confirmed. "I've gone global. Or at least English-language global. There's more work to do, but I think the rest will come in time."
Mort finished skimming the Times clipping, which talked about the ongoing social revolution for the voluntary redistribution of wealth, spearheaded by American artist James Cowan, whose recent media campaign blah, blah, blah... "You did it. James, what the hell did you do." He leaned over on James's shoulder, stunned.
"I'll just leave the two of you to get reacquainted," Joy remarked cheerfully. "Want me to order pizza?"
no subject
This is interesting. Are you going to be doing more of it?
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In other words, this was just great. From the awesome start, to the "what did he just say?" factor, to the fact that he did it, to the writing of Joy. (Speaking of Joy, Noah finds it totally hot when she says things like "conspicuous consumption". Woohoo, brains.)
Keep up the great work. <3<3<3
no subject
(Okay, I just think taking over the world for someone you care for means a lot! That may make me weird though.)
no subject
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And intelligence is hot! And I'm seriously turning all pink that you liked my writing of Joy, I was so many kinds of not sure about that even though I ran it by Kat before putting it up. Joy is AWESOME and I have so many more plans for her in this 'verse if I ever get back into writing fiction. :P