Worth 50,000: Day Two - Strains The Sweetness From The Fruit

[momebie]

So, how was the first day of Nano for everyone? I didn't quite make it to the ultimate daily goal of 1,667 words, but I did get in about 1,600 words and start the Steampunk novel off in what I feel to be a pretty exciting way, so I consider it a victory. Do you have a personal writing victory to share?

Yesterday a lot of people seemed to enjoy the picture, but not necessarily know how to write to it, so let's run full tilt in another direction for today and see if we can't get some other sorts of juices flowing. If you're curious, your picture for today is of an automaton built in 1784 by Peter Kintzing (1745-1816) and David Roentgen (1743-1807). So please feast your eyes on one of the scientific treasures of the court of Versailles: The tympanum player.



As always, write, comment, rinse, repeat. Let's show day two that we're just as ready for it as day one.

Comments

[gisforgreen.livejournal.com]

I like how your response to "people didn't know how to write for the last picture" was to post this.

BRB trying to figure out how to make two dudes talk about this.

[momebie.livejournal.com]

People got really distracted by the sexiness of the last picture. I didn't think it would be a problem with this one, but apparently ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE PERVS. So I hope you all enjoy the automaton butt.

[barbed-whispers.livejournal.com]

i just started draft #6 of the hannah story, but if i get to #7 today it's going to be about her watching "the girl in the fireplace" now :p

[momebie.livejournal.com]

I approve!

[theemdash]

I watched that yesterday with Haley!

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

Hm. This one will be more difficult.

I WILL PONDER IT WHILE DOING ACTUAL WORK.

[momebie.livejournal.com]

PLEASE PONDER. And it certainly doesn't have to be a direct use of the picture, you know? My entry from yesterday was in a hansom cab in the 1800s instead of in a car in the 50s. Just steal whichever part of it you like most. :D

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

"What is it?" Alex asks when the dust settles. Darwin doesn't seem to have an answer, squinting at the bizarre artifact of Xaviers past and walking around it slowly.

"We should ask the professor," Darwin finally says. Alex bunches up the dust cloth and pitches it over to the pile in the corner, then takes a step closer to Darwin to inspect their discovery. There's something spooky about the odd statue, headless and unclothed and frozen in the middle of--something.

"I wouldn't have pegged the professor as the type of guy who keeps statues of mostly naked ladies around," Alex says. Darwin raises his eyebrows and Alex says quickly, "Hey, I'm not judging." He knocks his shoulder against Darwin's. "Obviously."

Darwin runs his fingers gently over the intricate buttons and knobs. Darwin's graceful like that, careful. Alex wouldn't dare try it himself; even before his power manifested, he could barely walk through a room without leaving a path of destruction in his wake. He wonders, sometimes, how their powers relate to who they are. Raven is as enigmatic as her ability. Sean's loud even when he's not using his sonic screech. The professor is unassuming but intense, just like his telepathy. And Darwin....

Alex watches Darwin inspect the statue. Darwin is as multifaceted on the inside as he can make himself be on the outside. He's a brother to Raven and Angel, an interested ear when Hank needs one, an assistant, of sorts, to the professor, and to Alex--

Alex isn't sure what he needs, but he knows that Darwin is it, so he supposes he fits the pattern as well.

"I think--" Darwin says, and then there's a snap and a cranking sound and the shriek of metal against metal and just when Alex thinks, Shit, we broke it, the professor's gonna be upset, the mechanical limbs start moving and the shrieking whines into something that's almost...music.

Darwin whoops.

"I knew it!" he says, and it's almost grotesque, the way the limbs stutter and move, the music halting and haunting. The bits sticking out of the figure's head are moving too and it's like some horror movie parody of a musical recital but...it's also kind of pretty. In a really weird way.

"Pretty in a weird way" seems to sum up most of what happens in the professor's house.

Alex stands close to Darwin, their arms touching every time he breathes in. He thinks there's some sort of metaphor in Darwin finding music in something Alex thought was weird junk, but the hell if he can put it together. He'd rather just stand back and watch and breathe and maybe smile, just a little bit.

[momebie.livejournal.com]

"Pretty in a weird way" seems to sum up most of what happens in the professor's house.

Exactly. ♥ I'm glad you could come up with something. I like the way Alex is putting the relationships together in his head.

[theemdash]

I like the reflection on their powers being extensions of their personalities.

[lady-ganesh.livejournal.com]

♥!

[horosha.livejournal.com]

I've always loved these. Makes me think of The Turk :)

[momebie.livejournal.com]

Yes, definitely. Also, there's an interesting article on Cracked (http://www.cracked.com/article_19395_the-7-creepiest-old-school-robots.html) about the Seven Creepiest Old School Robots. I kind of want the Satan machine for Christmas. >.>

[xsnarkasaurus.livejournal.com]

...it is pantsless. and has a butt.

~reiterates this morning's twitter conversation~

[momebie.livejournal.com]

IT DOESN'T HAVE A BUTT. That area is too wide to be a crack. Also, I'm friends breaking up with all of you.

[xsnarkasaurus.livejournal.com]

No one ever said it was an anatomically correct butt!

You love us, don't front.

[gisforgreen.livejournal.com]

DAT ASS

[yachiru]

I have done nothingggg. I found a microfiction contest so I've been writing something for that first. >_> And your pictures keep giving meh ideas!

I play and they never listen.
they hear the clank of wine glasses,
forks on plates, persistent chewing
my fingers jerk on the keys
it's the same song over and over
until the busboy forgets to wind me
and they all look up

[momebie.livejournal.com]

At least the pictures are working for something! And I do like that little bit of writing from her perspective. I wonder how lonely she is.

[theemdash]

Love this.

[theemdash]

The tympanum player was more elegant than the newspaper drawings had captured—and much more life-like than Gerard thought the church would have allowed. If the machine weren’t sitting so ridigly upright, Gerard might have expected it to snap its eyes open and gasp when it finally felt him staring so intently.

The grand gallery was empty—the other patrons had moved in a clump to the next display room—so after a last glance around, Gerard stepped over the velvet lined banister and knelt next to the large cylinder. He traced the rods with his eyes, following where they connected to the body of the automaton, glad whomever had arranged the display had thought to remove the heavy skirts that had been drawn in such detail in the newspaper.

He shifted off his knees, sliding beneath the tympanum. The lace still covering the torso dipped modestly in the front and Gerard carefully lifted it, examining the exposed gearwork in the automaton's abdomen. He leaned closer, wishing he had his work goggles with their magnification lenses—the gears were layered and it was difficult to follow where they connected and what they would turn. He placed one hand on each of its legs, nudging them apart slightly as he leaned in.

“I always suspected you fancied machines above all else.”

Gerard struck his head on the table as he startled. Asher leaned heavily on the banister, a wry grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

“You saw me stay behind,” Gerard argued. He ducked, rubbing the top of his head.

“I thought you’d stay behind to examine the machine, not molest it.” Asher nodded towards the machine and Gerard slowly turned, finally seeing what Asher saw—life-like legs, disrobed and splayed open by Gerard’s hands. He yanked his hands away, slipping and falling on his rear as he backed away. Asher laughed, but was kind enough to muffle his giggles with his hand.

Gerard rolled his eyes, trying to regain some dignity, and pulled himself from under the machine, returning to the proper side of the banister. He nudged Asher’s elbow. “Don’t mention this to Jacob.”

Asher slipped his hand into the crook of Gerard’s elbow. “I’m quite sure he’s already aware of the placement of your affections.” He reached over and tapped his chest. “The tympanum player is child’s play compared to what you've achieved.” He grinned, the smile crinkling his eyes and Gerard couldn’t help smiling back, his own embarrassment forgotten.

[momebie.livejournal.com]

It's. It's so sweet. Oh, Asher. I want to hug you forever. And apologize in advance for how dreadful William is probably going to be to you. ♥

[theemdash]

I CAN'T WAIT! :D

I like writing simple moments between the two of them because I doubt they'll get many for real.

[gisforgreen.livejournal.com]

"Do you ever regret not being a different person?" Jeff asked out of the blue one day.

Brian sighed. Jeff was in one of his moods. "What do you mean?"

"I mean. Do you ever regret that you didn't, I don't know, somehow studied more or picked up an instrument or something when you were younger. That maybe you'd be a different person if you had somehow gotten into choir or something?"

Brian paused at this. Despite acting like a total idiot spaz most of the time for whatever reason Jeff really wasn't as thoughtless as he thought he was.

"No because it would mean less baseball. Less... you. I wouldn't be the me I am now. I don't think I could redo part of my life like that and end up the same person I am now. Who knows what part of my life I'd have to give up, what other regrets I'd have, to become a concert pianist or whatever."

"But what..."

"Jeff," Brian said carefully. "What's really bothering you?"

[momebie.livejournal.com]

Shut up and hug him!

[gisforgreen.livejournal.com]

Right? God, you guys. Just hug it out!!

[lady-ganesh.livejournal.com]

"Look at this absurdity," Jean said. "So much money wasted. On what? A doll."

"A lovely doll," Charles noted. He reached out and touched the tiny lace cuff. There was a tiny spatter of blood; he wondered if it would ever wash out.

Jean snorted. "How many men would that doll have fed? How much gold and treasure went into that trinket?"

Charles shrugged. "The question," he said, "is what do we do with it now?"