thatrcooper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thatrcooper) wrote2012-11-20 10:41 pm
thatrcooper) wrote2012-11-20 10:41 pm
Entry tags:
His day job could be a real pain in the ass
Aw, no one wanted commentfic. Sadness! I hope people at least dropped some cans off at their local donation bins? And not just the icky green beans from the back of the pantry and weird cans of spinach and such.
I hate green beans. Also mushy carrots.
Guys. Guys. Why did no one tell me Will and Charlie are adorable? No seriously. Why didn't you tell me? I was writing them all the time. I never looked at them from the outside. Oh my god. Especially once they get to their initial flirting phase.
Um, what was I gonna say here? Anyone know? I am having a vodka cran for the season. Anyway, I need to update my author bio and I don't know if I should include my Tumblr or not. Does anyone think anyone else needs a link to random fannish postings and porn that I reblog?
(Smut Monday!!!! Drunken posts! Tons of Chris Evans in various stages of undress!!)
Meanwhile, should I write a little something tomorrow in between prepping my kitchen for the big day? And what? Arthur and Bertie? Will and Charlie? Future Nicky and Chris? New kids Tim and Nathaniel? (They are ready for their porn now. Too bad the story isn't.) Hmm. Questions questions.
Want a snippet of sumpin? Do I have anything cute right now? Want a piece of something I wrote for Dreamspinner's superhero anthology thing, only then I decided I didn't like it enough to submit it? *gasp* It's like my very own deleted scene!
I should explain. My friends and I mostly thought it would be really funny if a badass Batman type superhero had a nemesis/love interest who was less like Catwoman and more like... Wonder Kitten. So it was always pretty much crack.
There was no sound, no scrape of rubber soles against cement, no creak of a badly designed plastic costume, but when the air moved, so did he, turning and straightening to see who was on the roof with him. He’d chosen long ago not to carry a weapon but his father had turned his body into one for him by his teens. He kept his posture loose as he looked over, leaving himself ready for anything even as the breath stuttered out of him.
Surprise skittered across his consciousness, surprise and something much warmer that had no place on a mission.
The man in front of him was anything but invisible. At first glance he looked like a nerd’s online avatar or something out of someone’s superhero fantasy with maybe a hint of bondage imagery. City lights gleamed off pants made from what looked like patent leather, form-fitting, laced at the fly just below the dark vest that was the man’s only protection save the tight, tight long-sleeved shirt underneath it. The sleeves were tucked into finely tooled gloves, expensive gloves, he noted, handmade like the belt hanging loosely from slim hips. A few tools hung from it, but not enough for defense or offense.
It should have looked ridiculous, except then his gaze traveled down to the boots…the boots, high, hard black leather, with mean edge in their heel, as though there might be real danger here after all.
His visitor wasn’t carrying a weapon, which meant he could be someone with a power.
Justice readjusted the several plans to escape or attack that passed through his mind and stayed as he was, wary, but unmoving. He gave away nothing, not even when his eyes had trouble lifting from that strong, wiry body. Seeing a mask was no surprise, though he noted the pale skin, the parted lips. The mask itself began at the nose and had the curved eyes of a cat and a cowl that kept him from seeing what color the other man’s hair might be, and on top of that…Justice frowned. Were those cat ears?
Great. He almost sneered. An amateur was dangerous enough, to both himself and to others, but the ones with the hero fetishes were worse. Justice was supposed to be taking down bad guys, not dealing with Wonder Kitten.
The man probably did have powers. Powered heroes and villains always chose impractical costumes. Lightening bolts. Capes. The flash helped those not “out”, with alter egos, hide in plain sight, or so they claimed, but in his opinion something simple and dark and armored was always better.
Though the way Wonder Kitten stopped to look him over, eyes wide behind his mask, his mouth still open, was a reminder that in some ways, simple was just as distracting. Justice wore a thin layer of Kevlar over his broad chest but the rest of his outfit left little to the imagination. Every contour and curve of his hard-earned muscle was clearly delineated and the only advantage that he found to the gawking and occasional lusty comment in the city’s papers, and blogs and fangroups, was that people checking out his thighs, or his biceps, or the bulge in the front of his suit never looked up to the look at the part of his face that was visible. Not one person had seemed to ever see the freckle by his mouth on the nights he forgot to cover it up and notice that billionaire and son the infamous übervillain, the Chieftain, A.G. Duncan had the same freckle.
Kitten looked up, at his face, at his mouth, and Duncan suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d covered up the spot tonight or not. He blinked and Kitten moved forward, slowly, carefully, and his outfit couldn’t be made of patent leather because it didn’t make noise, but the light moved over it like liquid as he came closer.
It was, Duncan thought vaguely, a shame about his personal code, because even reluctant heroes—he refused to call himself “super”—needed to get laid.
I hate green beans. Also mushy carrots.
Guys. Guys. Why did no one tell me Will and Charlie are adorable? No seriously. Why didn't you tell me? I was writing them all the time. I never looked at them from the outside. Oh my god. Especially once they get to their initial flirting phase.
Um, what was I gonna say here? Anyone know? I am having a vodka cran for the season. Anyway, I need to update my author bio and I don't know if I should include my Tumblr or not. Does anyone think anyone else needs a link to random fannish postings and porn that I reblog?
(Smut Monday!!!! Drunken posts! Tons of Chris Evans in various stages of undress!!)
Meanwhile, should I write a little something tomorrow in between prepping my kitchen for the big day? And what? Arthur and Bertie? Will and Charlie? Future Nicky and Chris? New kids Tim and Nathaniel? (They are ready for their porn now. Too bad the story isn't.) Hmm. Questions questions.
Want a snippet of sumpin? Do I have anything cute right now? Want a piece of something I wrote for Dreamspinner's superhero anthology thing, only then I decided I didn't like it enough to submit it? *gasp* It's like my very own deleted scene!
I should explain. My friends and I mostly thought it would be really funny if a badass Batman type superhero had a nemesis/love interest who was less like Catwoman and more like... Wonder Kitten. So it was always pretty much crack.
There was no sound, no scrape of rubber soles against cement, no creak of a badly designed plastic costume, but when the air moved, so did he, turning and straightening to see who was on the roof with him. He’d chosen long ago not to carry a weapon but his father had turned his body into one for him by his teens. He kept his posture loose as he looked over, leaving himself ready for anything even as the breath stuttered out of him.
Surprise skittered across his consciousness, surprise and something much warmer that had no place on a mission.
The man in front of him was anything but invisible. At first glance he looked like a nerd’s online avatar or something out of someone’s superhero fantasy with maybe a hint of bondage imagery. City lights gleamed off pants made from what looked like patent leather, form-fitting, laced at the fly just below the dark vest that was the man’s only protection save the tight, tight long-sleeved shirt underneath it. The sleeves were tucked into finely tooled gloves, expensive gloves, he noted, handmade like the belt hanging loosely from slim hips. A few tools hung from it, but not enough for defense or offense.
It should have looked ridiculous, except then his gaze traveled down to the boots…the boots, high, hard black leather, with mean edge in their heel, as though there might be real danger here after all.
His visitor wasn’t carrying a weapon, which meant he could be someone with a power.
Justice readjusted the several plans to escape or attack that passed through his mind and stayed as he was, wary, but unmoving. He gave away nothing, not even when his eyes had trouble lifting from that strong, wiry body. Seeing a mask was no surprise, though he noted the pale skin, the parted lips. The mask itself began at the nose and had the curved eyes of a cat and a cowl that kept him from seeing what color the other man’s hair might be, and on top of that…Justice frowned. Were those cat ears?
Great. He almost sneered. An amateur was dangerous enough, to both himself and to others, but the ones with the hero fetishes were worse. Justice was supposed to be taking down bad guys, not dealing with Wonder Kitten.
The man probably did have powers. Powered heroes and villains always chose impractical costumes. Lightening bolts. Capes. The flash helped those not “out”, with alter egos, hide in plain sight, or so they claimed, but in his opinion something simple and dark and armored was always better.
Though the way Wonder Kitten stopped to look him over, eyes wide behind his mask, his mouth still open, was a reminder that in some ways, simple was just as distracting. Justice wore a thin layer of Kevlar over his broad chest but the rest of his outfit left little to the imagination. Every contour and curve of his hard-earned muscle was clearly delineated and the only advantage that he found to the gawking and occasional lusty comment in the city’s papers, and blogs and fangroups, was that people checking out his thighs, or his biceps, or the bulge in the front of his suit never looked up to the look at the part of his face that was visible. Not one person had seemed to ever see the freckle by his mouth on the nights he forgot to cover it up and notice that billionaire and son the infamous übervillain, the Chieftain, A.G. Duncan had the same freckle.
Kitten looked up, at his face, at his mouth, and Duncan suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d covered up the spot tonight or not. He blinked and Kitten moved forward, slowly, carefully, and his outfit couldn’t be made of patent leather because it didn’t make noise, but the light moved over it like liquid as he came closer.
It was, Duncan thought vaguely, a shame about his personal code, because even reluctant heroes—he refused to call himself “super”—needed to get laid.
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Kitten would never wear pants that squeak. It would ruin the whole effect! ..seriously, he thought a lot about the effect. Weeks, like.
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(Also, I think cat ears would work with Stiles' facial features.)
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Cat ears though... Kitten/Justice need a scene where Kitten is just wearing the ears. Really.
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(And you are aware, so it doesn't count.:)
I would know, I read something like hundred books by Barbara Cartland as a child and boy, she did not chance a thing. It gets real funny after the first thirty books. :)
Ears and the boots. *nods*
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Ears and the boots, driving Justice straight out of his mind.
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(Yet, not as bad as Twilight!)
MAKE IT SO. Hell yes I'm ordering.
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Like, work, work, Kitten on some rooftop and weird conversation and maybe flirting, work, weird it dude, work, passionate discussion on the subject of appropriate costumes for superheroes on some alley with Kitten, work, work, definitely flirting with Kitten after fixing a bank robbery situation, weird it dude at work, work, work, Kitten something, work, newspapers making a huge deal out of the 'secret affair', work, more work, It dude, sex with Kitten, more sex with Kitten...
Something. You know what I mean.
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Fuck it. It's happening.
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