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31_days2006-07-12 10:12 am
senri.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-07-12 10:12 am
[July 12] [Invader Zim] [Colorblend]
Title: Colorblend
Day/Theme: July 12 - the censorship of my skin
Series: Invader Zim
Pairing: Dib/Tak
Rating: PG
The day came on, intimately hot – thick as a wool blanket, planting sticky kisses along skin. The asphalt, the roads, the alleys breathed and pumped and channeled heat. It clogged the mouth and lodged in the throat. Six in the morning and it was a scorcher. Dawn slid a bloody palm across the horizon.
“Sailor, take warning,” Dib said, eyeing the encroaching light from his window. Tak, commandeering his computer chair, eyed him coldly.
“What?”
“Oh.” Dib turned to her. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Eyes bloodshot, they looked like raw eggs, Tak thought; eggs cupped by purple shadows. “It’s an old saying. You know.” She didn’t. “It means bad weather is coming.”
Tak glanced out him – then out the window again. Irken, her eyes gleamed hot, the red-violet of nebulas. “Ah,” she said.
Dib was sweating already. She could smell him: the engrained scents of leather, oil, under that his unique human smell. Quietly she inhaled, let the tang melt and settle in back of her mouth. The fine, suede-soft green skin around her eyes wrinkled and her mouth set in a groove of deep hate.
“What’s up?” asked Dib.
“It’s the heat…”
“Already?” He got up. “Yeah. It is hot. I might go cut watermelon.” He’d bought one yesterday, a fresh green fruit, huge and heavy in his arms. Had eaten three pieces already, breaking off the soft pink flesh and gulping it down in chunks. Tak watched, and declined. Ever the observer.
“I might go home,” she said. Testing the waters.
“No,” Dib said, close on the heels of her sentence. His eyes flickered across her, his gaze a pressure almost tangible. “No. Stay. We can go down to the basement. It’s cooler there.”
Tak smiled, an inward bitter grin. He always asked her to stay.
…..
In the kitchen he found a knife, hacked away at the fruit. The melon dribbled pinkish fluid across the countertop. Tak shuddered. Closed her eyes. Skin glowing white as milk, hair tossing (it wasn’t really there). But Dib looked at her and saw a girl. And a girl only.
He took a piece of melon in his fingers and wolfed it, a big piece, pulping between his teeth. Dib had sharp, even white teeth; a human gene perfectly expressed.
Tak walked up close behind him. Pursed up her falsely human lips and kissed the fishbelly pale patch of skin on back of his neck. Tasted salt. His sweat stung her lips.
Dib froze. Shook in one long tremor that ran from his head to his feet. A young, suddenly aroused figure. He felt vile. Tak kissed him again – no, licked this time. Suddenly he had goose bumps. Was fighting down chills.
“Tak,” he said; began to turn to her. She snatched a coarse handful of black hair and faced him forward.
“I’m going home,” she said. He could feel her breath washing coolly over his damp skin.
At the door he called after her, “Tak,” and she stopped – “Tak, do you really hate it this much?” Looking like a human? Being here? Being with me?
She looked at him. Only a moment. Could still taste salt, the sweetness of it. “I have to go home. It’s too hot.”
He stood looking after her for a long time.
At home Tak looked at herself. Pushed her face towards the mirror until her own face was all she could see. White skin. Cropped purple hair. Touched a finger to her beauty mark. Turned the hologram off.
Green skin. Vast purple eyes. Antennae curled snug, and drooping from her head the hypnosis coil.
On. White skin.
Off. Green.
Faster and faster, until the colors blurred together.
Day/Theme: July 12 - the censorship of my skin
Series: Invader Zim
Pairing: Dib/Tak
Rating: PG
The day came on, intimately hot – thick as a wool blanket, planting sticky kisses along skin. The asphalt, the roads, the alleys breathed and pumped and channeled heat. It clogged the mouth and lodged in the throat. Six in the morning and it was a scorcher. Dawn slid a bloody palm across the horizon.
“Sailor, take warning,” Dib said, eyeing the encroaching light from his window. Tak, commandeering his computer chair, eyed him coldly.
“What?”
“Oh.” Dib turned to her. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Eyes bloodshot, they looked like raw eggs, Tak thought; eggs cupped by purple shadows. “It’s an old saying. You know.” She didn’t. “It means bad weather is coming.”
Tak glanced out him – then out the window again. Irken, her eyes gleamed hot, the red-violet of nebulas. “Ah,” she said.
Dib was sweating already. She could smell him: the engrained scents of leather, oil, under that his unique human smell. Quietly she inhaled, let the tang melt and settle in back of her mouth. The fine, suede-soft green skin around her eyes wrinkled and her mouth set in a groove of deep hate.
“What’s up?” asked Dib.
“It’s the heat…”
“Already?” He got up. “Yeah. It is hot. I might go cut watermelon.” He’d bought one yesterday, a fresh green fruit, huge and heavy in his arms. Had eaten three pieces already, breaking off the soft pink flesh and gulping it down in chunks. Tak watched, and declined. Ever the observer.
“I might go home,” she said. Testing the waters.
“No,” Dib said, close on the heels of her sentence. His eyes flickered across her, his gaze a pressure almost tangible. “No. Stay. We can go down to the basement. It’s cooler there.”
Tak smiled, an inward bitter grin. He always asked her to stay.
…..
In the kitchen he found a knife, hacked away at the fruit. The melon dribbled pinkish fluid across the countertop. Tak shuddered. Closed her eyes. Skin glowing white as milk, hair tossing (it wasn’t really there). But Dib looked at her and saw a girl. And a girl only.
He took a piece of melon in his fingers and wolfed it, a big piece, pulping between his teeth. Dib had sharp, even white teeth; a human gene perfectly expressed.
Tak walked up close behind him. Pursed up her falsely human lips and kissed the fishbelly pale patch of skin on back of his neck. Tasted salt. His sweat stung her lips.
Dib froze. Shook in one long tremor that ran from his head to his feet. A young, suddenly aroused figure. He felt vile. Tak kissed him again – no, licked this time. Suddenly he had goose bumps. Was fighting down chills.
“Tak,” he said; began to turn to her. She snatched a coarse handful of black hair and faced him forward.
“I’m going home,” she said. He could feel her breath washing coolly over his damp skin.
At the door he called after her, “Tak,” and she stopped – “Tak, do you really hate it this much?” Looking like a human? Being here? Being with me?
She looked at him. Only a moment. Could still taste salt, the sweetness of it. “I have to go home. It’s too hot.”
He stood looking after her for a long time.
At home Tak looked at herself. Pushed her face towards the mirror until her own face was all she could see. White skin. Cropped purple hair. Touched a finger to her beauty mark. Turned the hologram off.
Green skin. Vast purple eyes. Antennae curled snug, and drooping from her head the hypnosis coil.
On. White skin.
Off. Green.
Faster and faster, until the colors blurred together.