Fanfic for Jen...
So, once upon a time, pjvilar wrote this fanfic. Only it's more than that. I am not going to go into it again, how I feel about this fanfic - how it is one of the most impactful things I've ever read, ever. Let's not do that again.
Anyway. She challenged me to write her characters, any of them and, of course, I picked Our Year Out of Time. Her prompt was "Brad/Nate - take the power back".
This is...vaguely in answer to that.
*
You are Mark Twain - an Our Year Out of Time fanfic drabble for pjvilar
He finds it in a dog-earred paperback snagged from a pile in the common room, marked with three or four people's notes and highlighting. He's always had to fight hard to understand poetry (fuck poets) but this, somehow, makes sense to him. He lies on Nate's bed, windows open to the rain and reads the same thing over and over again.
If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of
apocalyptic times, even if this meaning sounds apocalyptic.
The door opens and Nate stands in the doorway, shirt soaked to his shoulders and his shirt. Rainwater dripping from the coppery ends of his curling hair. Initially, Brad had offered to go to the meeting but Nate had waved him off with a kiss; sometimes, it helps if they're all there but, more often than not, it's Nate on his own, his sleeves pushed up and his chin back, no notes, just speaking from the heart.
Taking things back one painful sentence at a time.
Shucking his damp shirt, Nate crawls up onto the bed, bends to press kisses against Brad's thighs and belly, still in his jeans and sneakers. Brad keeps hold of the book and pushes his free hand into Nate's hair. In his arms, Nate feels neat and solid. The bed creaks alarmingly but it holds their weight.
Later, Nate looks at the book and laughs, tells Brad that he's about three years late to be discovering the Beats and fuck Kerouac, that motherfucking dick.
And maybe he is but, as he unzips Nate's jeans and eases his hand inside, Ferlinghetti stays with him.
We can conquer the conquerors with words.
(The Murphy prompt is going to take slightly longer - that's a full story waiting to happen. I'll do David/George first :b)
Anyway. She challenged me to write her characters, any of them and, of course, I picked Our Year Out of Time. Her prompt was "Brad/Nate - take the power back".
This is...vaguely in answer to that.
*
You are Mark Twain - an Our Year Out of Time fanfic drabble for pjvilar
He finds it in a dog-earred paperback snagged from a pile in the common room, marked with three or four people's notes and highlighting. He's always had to fight hard to understand poetry (fuck poets) but this, somehow, makes sense to him. He lies on Nate's bed, windows open to the rain and reads the same thing over and over again.
If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of
apocalyptic times, even if this meaning sounds apocalyptic.
The door opens and Nate stands in the doorway, shirt soaked to his shoulders and his shirt. Rainwater dripping from the coppery ends of his curling hair. Initially, Brad had offered to go to the meeting but Nate had waved him off with a kiss; sometimes, it helps if they're all there but, more often than not, it's Nate on his own, his sleeves pushed up and his chin back, no notes, just speaking from the heart.
Taking things back one painful sentence at a time.
Shucking his damp shirt, Nate crawls up onto the bed, bends to press kisses against Brad's thighs and belly, still in his jeans and sneakers. Brad keeps hold of the book and pushes his free hand into Nate's hair. In his arms, Nate feels neat and solid. The bed creaks alarmingly but it holds their weight.
Later, Nate looks at the book and laughs, tells Brad that he's about three years late to be discovering the Beats and fuck Kerouac, that motherfucking dick.
And maybe he is but, as he unzips Nate's jeans and eases his hand inside, Ferlinghetti stays with him.
We can conquer the conquerors with words.
(The Murphy prompt is going to take slightly longer - that's a full story waiting to happen. I'll do David/George first :b)