(no subject)
Layout was changed again because the grassy one didn't load properly on 8 out of 9 computers I tried it on. The graphic kept getting cut off. So. Now we have a cityscape which loads properly. Yay!
Fic #2: Heat Wave
Request: Phoenix Rising, Isaac and Crates, prompt: working in the studio during a heat wave
Requested by: noborukasahara
Length: 345
Rating: G! Again!
Notes: Extra warning for silliness. The prompter apologized for the difficulty of this prompt, but actually it was one of the easiest to write. ^_^
Triple digit temperatures in Boston were unusual but not unheard of, and one particular week in July, a nasty heat wave settled in and attacked the city, gnawing away at the less fortunate. Isaac, who had air conditioning at his apartment, wondered vaguely why he was working at the studio, which was almost as hot inside as it was outside, stripped to the waist and drinking lemonade directly from the bottle while he painted. Or pretended to paint. It was difficult to do anything with his brain on fire.
“Why am I here?” he asked.
“Solidarity,” Crates replied, mopping his forehead with a wet washcloth.
“No,” Isaac said. “If it were for solidarity, I would be solid. But I feel . . . liquid. That’s what happens when you melt.”
“You know, in Europe nobody has central air,” Crates remarked.
Isaac stared at his mostly blank canvas. “No wonder we rule the world.”
Crates looked over. “Because we’re lazy, over-privileged, and self-indulgent?”
Isaac thought about it. “Yeah.”
“What are you painting, anyway?” Crates asked. “You came over here to paint, now paint.”
“I came over here to be solid and I’m not doing that either.” Isaac continued to stare at the black blob in the middle of his otherwise white canvas. “It’s a snowstorm,” he decided. “A . . . a polar bear in a snowstorm. Painting it is making me feel cooler. Yeah. That’s it.”
Crates chortled. “You know, the scary thing is, I bet you ten bucks you could actually hang that canvas, as is, at your next show, title it ‘Polar Bear in Snowstorm’, and someone would give you a couple grand for it.”
“That’s . . . sad.” Isaac examined the canvas. “We are a sad species.”
“Lazy, over-privileged, and self-indulgent,” Crates agreed.
“I think I’m going home now, where I can . . . solidify.”
“Sure, be that way.”
“You want to come?”
“Nope,” Crates said, continuing to swipe at his canvas. “I don’t feel the heat. I’m happy as a clam.”
Isaac shook his head. “No wonder you’re crazy.”
Fic #2: Heat Wave
Request: Phoenix Rising, Isaac and Crates, prompt: working in the studio during a heat wave
Requested by: noborukasahara
Length: 345
Rating: G! Again!
Notes: Extra warning for silliness. The prompter apologized for the difficulty of this prompt, but actually it was one of the easiest to write. ^_^
Triple digit temperatures in Boston were unusual but not unheard of, and one particular week in July, a nasty heat wave settled in and attacked the city, gnawing away at the less fortunate. Isaac, who had air conditioning at his apartment, wondered vaguely why he was working at the studio, which was almost as hot inside as it was outside, stripped to the waist and drinking lemonade directly from the bottle while he painted. Or pretended to paint. It was difficult to do anything with his brain on fire.
“Why am I here?” he asked.
“Solidarity,” Crates replied, mopping his forehead with a wet washcloth.
“No,” Isaac said. “If it were for solidarity, I would be solid. But I feel . . . liquid. That’s what happens when you melt.”
“You know, in Europe nobody has central air,” Crates remarked.
Isaac stared at his mostly blank canvas. “No wonder we rule the world.”
Crates looked over. “Because we’re lazy, over-privileged, and self-indulgent?”
Isaac thought about it. “Yeah.”
“What are you painting, anyway?” Crates asked. “You came over here to paint, now paint.”
“I came over here to be solid and I’m not doing that either.” Isaac continued to stare at the black blob in the middle of his otherwise white canvas. “It’s a snowstorm,” he decided. “A . . . a polar bear in a snowstorm. Painting it is making me feel cooler. Yeah. That’s it.”
Crates chortled. “You know, the scary thing is, I bet you ten bucks you could actually hang that canvas, as is, at your next show, title it ‘Polar Bear in Snowstorm’, and someone would give you a couple grand for it.”
“That’s . . . sad.” Isaac examined the canvas. “We are a sad species.”
“Lazy, over-privileged, and self-indulgent,” Crates agreed.
“I think I’m going home now, where I can . . . solidify.”
“Sure, be that way.”
“You want to come?”
“Nope,” Crates said, continuing to swipe at his canvas. “I don’t feel the heat. I’m happy as a clam.”
Isaac shook his head. “No wonder you’re crazy.”