sure, why not

[fahye]

Euuhhh that meme is too complicated. Upshot is:

FIRST FIVE PEOPLE TO COMMENT GET DRABBLES

Pick your poison. Though I'd prefer a little more guidance than just a fandom or pairing -- 'Booth/Brennan, earrings' will make my life easier than 'Bones'.

Something for me to do when I finish typing up my lecture notes :)

Comments

[sinclair-furie.livejournal.com]

ooooohhh sneak preview :)
*excited*

[fahye.livejournal.com]

This will probably end up being a section of the story, now :D

~

Tee intercepts a glance from Pru that contains no apology at all, not that he expected any. She isn't the sort to act rashly; she's made a judgement call.

Apprentices. Bloody hell.

He rubs his temple. "And if I told you to scaddle on home?"

The girl -- Agatha -- manages not to look as though she's been slapped, but it's a close call, Tee can tell. Her chin magically locates a new angle even more prissy than the last; her voice, icy, follows its lead. "That would certainly present a considerable problem," she says, "as we have already left word to the effect that we will not be returning there."

"Run away to join the circus," Tee mutters. His circus. "Fierce."

"You don't understand." The boy clutches his bag -- leather, looks like it costs twice as much as Tee's entire outfit -- tighter to his chest and tries to look earnest; he hasn't the face for it. "We have recognised our pampered existence and chosen to move against it. We have renounced the Pipe. We wish to make a stand against the terrible polarisation of wealth and the social inequality that defines our country in such an unfortunate way!"

"Jesus fuck," says Tee, after a considerable pause.

The Verey twins are seventeen years old and talented little shits of coders, smack bang in the middle of their own personal rebellion; their righteousness dies down fast under the weight of Steph's crushing silences, leaving a layer of semi-educated socialism over some muddy depths of family problems that Tee wouldn't touch even if he didn't believe in everyone's right to keep their particular brand of fucked-up to themselves.

They're surprisingly alike for fraternal twins, so much so that it's certainly easy to think that they were designed that way; they look like eyai, like a matched set. And there's something about Agatha's guarded, not-quite-sincere smile and the way Julian's face goes blank in response to anger that adds to the effect, as though their facial .apps are buggy. But there are no locks in their shoulders and not a scrap of silicon in their makeup: just history. Just the human fucking experience.