Archive | August 8, 2011

Meeting the Parents

From my call for prompts and (LJ post); to flutterbychild‘s prompt “The members of a M-F-F triad come “out” to one of the women’s parents’…and things get rather interesting.”

Stranded World, Summer.

They had discussed it all beforehand. Summer’s mom was just an e-mail send. Bishop’s parents: “Dad’ll probably buy me a beer, and mom will swoon. No biggie, really.” So it was Melinda’s parents who would be tricky, and thus they managed to schedule that meeting earliest on Parents’ Weekend.

Mellie clung tight to Bishop’s hand and leaned into the arm Summer draped around her waist as they waited in the lounge. Other kids, other parents swarmed by, barely glancing their way. What was another college couple and their third wheel? Summer smirked, and traced good-luck charms into her girlfriend’s hip.

“There they are.” Her voice was a thin whisper; she raised it to call across the lobby. “Mom! Dad!”

Summer could see the resemblance; Mrs. Chambers had the same eyes as Mel; Mr. Chambers had the same nose. They both shared an open, warm smile, and a fondness for hugs; Summer shared a glance with Bishop as they released their girl into her parents’ hugs.

It wasn’t long before they had her hands again. “Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Bishop… and my girlfriend, Summer.”

They could see the way Mrs. Chambers bounced over that one – saw it, decided to ignore it, kept going. Mr. Chambers was already busy giving Bishop the Manly Handshake of warning, so Mom got to handle the “How nice to meet Mellie’s friends.”

Melinda could have let it go. They’d discussed this, over and over again. She took a breath, and plowed on calmly. “No, Mom. Summer’s my girlfriend.” Pause. “We’re all dating.”

“Are you sure, honey?” Her mother sounded shaky. Her father was eying Bishop uncertainly. “I mean…”

“I’m sure, Mom.” Melinda squeezed her mother’s hand gently. “We’ve been dating since the second week of the semester. We’re sure.”

“Well,” Mr. Chambers rumbled thoughtfully, “they’re braver than we were, back then.”

“They are,” Mrs. Chambers agreed. “Just… Mellie, let’s put off telling Grandma for now, can we?”

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The World is full of Awesome today!

Okay, the internets is full of wow today.

akumyo is hosting a Free Icon Day-

megamon_blue is too.

[personal profile] lilfluff has started the 30 Days Second Semester!

[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith has: “People Who Boost the Signal in Crowdfunding (also here) and Non-Cash Support Methods for Crowdfunding

[personal profile] pinkelephant drew ADORABLE Baby Dragons!

This Criminal Minds Fanfic is Teh AWESOME

Cluudle played in my newly-created Unicorn/Factory verse
and wrote an awesome piece to my prompt

[personal profile] meeks has illustrated again! (LJ) this time minor_architect‘s Wanted: One Gnome

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Perspective Shift – Vas’ World – for @sharontherose

From my call for prompts and (LJ post); to @SharonTheRose’s prompt “a misogynist funds himself in a woman’s body, in a patriarchal system.”

Vas’ world, from the point of view of the McAliens.

a misogynist funds himself in a woman’s body, in a patriarchal system.

Seffie knew something was wrong the moment he woke up. He was in the wrong house, for one; the ceiling above him was painted in strange blue lines, not the red curlicues of the home he had built for the wife and children he had yet to find and make.

The blankets over him were wrong, woven in patterns he didn’t recognize, and they flowed strangely over his body, lumpy, incorrect.

“Woman!” Even the voice shouting in the next room sounded wrong, the accent twisted and barely intelligible. “Where is my food?”

Food sounded delicious. Seffie wondered where the woman was. He wondered, too, where he was. He levered himself up – his back hurt something fierce; had he been wounded in battle? He didn’t remember there being a battle – and he had to piss.

“Woman!” the hoarse voice came again, and a man in strange clothing stepped into the room. He was looking straight at Seffie. “By the holy seven, woman, what are you still doing in bed?”

“What by the nine are you talking about?” Seffie snapped – or started to. He got out “what,” in a high squeak, and finally got a glimpse of the body below the blanket. “What…?” he tried again. The voice that came out was a high, sweet, woman’s voice, which went with the swollen tits and round belly. He swung his feet to the ground, or tried to – he couldn’t see them over the belly, glaring at the man, who was even now crossing the room. “A hand?” he tried.

The brute cuffed him casually across the face. “Woman, if you are not in the kitchen before I get to the table, I will give you more than a hand.”

Seffie had taken worse, but never without dealing it back. He glanced at his fist – smaller than it should be, but still a fist – and slammed it into the man’s stomach.

As the man grabbed him by the hair, it occurred to Seffie that, just maybe, he shouldn’t have angered the village shaman.

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