One of these days I’ll stop writing about Carlos’ obsession with Cecil’s weird-not-weird biology.
Today is not that day.
Also at AO3, for those who prefer reading fic there.
Cecil has cells.
Normal cells. Human cells. He has cells, and skin, and a face and hair and eyes, a mouth and hands. Carlos has gotten well acquainted with the latter two over the past several weeks, much to their mutual (he hopes) enjoyment. Cecil has a heart, and it beats faster in Carlos’ presence; he has lungs, and his air rushes out whenever Carlos touches him. He has blood, and it’s red, and it is, Carlos thinks, beautiful in every single way.
“Look,” he says. Angles the microscope so Cecil can peer into it and see his own erythrocytes. “That’s you.”
“They look like little donuts,” Cecil says. He sound surprised. Carlos laughs.
“They really do, don’t they?” He switches out the slides, substituting Cecil’s with a smear of his own. “And this is me.”
“Oh,” Cecil breathes. He gently rests his hands on either side of the eyepiece, like he’s trying to steady himself or – far more likely – protect Carlos’ slide from harm. When he looks up, his eyes are huge and shining. “I hope you don’t think this too forward, but your blood is absolutely lovely.”
It’s more weird than forward, but Carlos doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to Cecil these days. It’s weirdly flattering, in a way, that Cecil can wax rhapsodic about his very cells. Carlos can empathize: every single one of his tests has shown that Cecil is just as human as he is, and yet he’s also absolutely not. Carlos knows he’s not, with the sort of bone-deep certainty he usually reserves for universal constants. Cecil’s not human, but he is, and Carlos finds he wants to shout it from the top of the radio tower. How wonderful this makes Cecil. How beautiful. How imperfectly and uniquely perfect.
He can’t help but wonder if this is how Cecil feels all the time. It’s…a little overwhelming.
For HSO br5; prompt here.
This wasn’t how the wedding was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to try and high-tail it across the country on a stolen fragment of his sister’s latent space powers before landing himself square ass broke in the middle of po-dunk nowhere with no way out. He wasn’t supposed to call you spitting every curse in the book and a handful he invented on the spot to tell you that if you didn’t come pick him up in the next hour he’d gut the entire staff of the roadside diner he was squatting behind. You shouldn’t have had to haggle him up to two hours, clutching your cell phone to your ear with your hands shaking, hissing into the mouthpiece as you tried to keep your voice calm, tried to find your fucking shoes and car keys in the dead dark of night. This was not how it was supposed to go, and he was almost gleeful to have messed up your flawless plans.
You hate him. You really wish you could run him through on your sword and be done with his damn mind games. But you can’t do that. Because Jane is marrying his sister tomorrow morning and it just so happens that they still share a body.
Wow damn. That was really good.
FanFiction.net is still deleting stories that contain Yaoi, Yuri, Lemons, Violence, Stories Based on songs and any detailed sex scenes. So, just about every story on the site. Most everyone knows of the petition going around. If you haven’t singed it, the link is on DarkHeartInTheSky’d profile. But there is more we can do.
Zukofan2005 is organizing a Black Out day. On June 23rd (according to GTM timing, so that we know we’re doing it together), Do NOT go onto fanfiction. Don’t read, Don’t review, Don’t message your friends, don’t update. If enough people participate, then the site will notice, and will realize we take our stories seriously.
Please spread the word any way you can, in any fandom! The motto is “Unleash Your Imagination” How can we if we’re being given a LONG list of what we cannot write?
June 23rd. Remember it. Please!
My friend put this adorable thought in my head… And now I can’t get rid of it, and it’s making me all smiley and giggly… But I can’t find anything, and I mean ANYTHING about it!
See, I think sick guys are the cutest, more adorable thing ever. And she just HAD to go and put the image of an adorable, sick Oncie in my head. >n< And, naturally, I googled for pictures or stories… Nothing…. But this mental image just wont go away, and I’m squeeing like mad and…. and… and… And oh God just… If someone could draw/write this for me, I would love them, like, forever. Seriously. I’d trade for it, totally.
Found this fic a few days ago. Enjoy! :
Now includes an updated list of references and the explanation of “Anderson is a pimp”.
Because I’m bored and have a lot of thoughts about the creation of the fic. “Read More” for length because this shit is long.