zeegoeshere

Ugh, hate mornings. Haate. (I realize that 9:45 am totally doesn't qualify as early to a lot of you, but--shut up.)

Have spent the last two days chasing my own tail and writing this AU that's eaten my brain. It's over 5000 words long now, which is a *lot* for me, especially considering that it's mostly all plotty stuff and no sex. In fact, I'm beginning to think there's not going to be *any* sex in this story, period. Gaaah.

Also, jesus christ, Return of Superman was so bad. So bad. I mean, I knew it was going to be, but--it makes me seriously glad I wasn't trying to be a comic book fan in the early 90's. Not only do you have that foxy mullet action from Clark (and scans like this, which almost made me put my eye out in agony), but the plot is nigh incomprhensible. Like, okay, you have four imitation Supermans, and one of them is evil and one of them is not Superman but IS really hot (Steel. STEEL COME BE MY METAL BOYFRIEND.), and one of them is just a kid, and then the one that's evil turns out to be NOT evil but gets killed by the one who's *actually* evil, and then there's random subplots involving a bearded Lex Luthor and a Supergirl who's under his thumb in a really creepy way, and then Kon gets kidnapped, and then I'm STILL trying to figure out how exactly Clark came back, and it's just... a giant mess. It did have some good bits--Lois was awesome and also made me all sniffly a couple places (even though her little sideplot with washisname Jeb was *deeply* stupid: 'Hey, Lois is one of my oldest friends, and her fiance just died, so I think I'll comfort her by HITTING ON her!'), and Kon was adorable and woobieful throughout the plot, even if he *did* use adjectives like 'fresh' and 'slammin'' in all seriousness.

And he got to save the day! Yay! He averted the evil!Superman's gigantor huge missile from Metropolis and made it blow up without harming the city. Which is just another reason for me to be pissy at Infinite Crisis, because dude, if he could do *that* *and* survive the missile blowing up when he was *on* it when he was three weeks old? (Note: It was a big fucking missile.) He could have destroyed that tower with his TTK or at least made a freaking DENT in it, and he could have survived the whole thing collapsing on him or whatever. Just, geez guys, please kill him in a way that's not INSULTING, okay?

Bah. Infinite Crisis brings out the ASSCAPS in me, and NOT in a good way.

Anyway! I swear I didn't mean for that to turn into a rant, oops. Here, have a picture of what Dick looked like when Superman died. God you guys, I'm writing the story from his PoV and thus I'm *trying* to take him seriously, but I just--look, he has a TINY BAT SYMBOL right over his CROTCH. I don't think I can be blamed for dissolving into fits of giggles every time I write a sentence about his costume or whatever.

Anyway *anyway,* I wrote a thing. comica_obscura stories have been revealed, and I received Don't look back (ride the wind) by Carla, which is a great look at Ultimate Rogue and has some lovely Rogue/Storm bits in it, too. Mmm, Rogue/Storm. I wrote Death to Lesbian Journalists for cesario, which is Transmetropolitan fic about Yelena Rossini and Channon Yarrow and things blowing up.

It's future fic, set a few months after Spider's death. basingstoke gave it a kick-ass beta, and petronelle and various others held my hand.


***

"Ow!" Channon yanked her head up, glaring at Yelena. Her lips were flushed and sticky-looking, and her fingernails dug into Yelena's thigh. "No hair-pulling."

Yelena squirmed and arched up. "Right, fine, sorry. Can we get back to the oral sex now please?"

"No hair-pulling, or else no orgasms," Channon warned before leaning down to nuzzle Yelena's pubic hair. She bit Yelena's thigh almost hard enough to break the skin and Yelena yelled, bucking against her.

Then the apartment's security alarms went off, and Yelena accidentally kneed Channon in the face. Everything became a blur as Yelena grabbed a sheet to cover herself and let Channon bodily carry her out, barely remembering to grab the baby as well.

Twenty seconds later the bomb went off, and they stood across the street watching as the explosion lit up the night sky.

In Channon's arms, the Tiny Scum began bawling its head off.

"Fuck!" Yelena yelled, stamping her bare feet in the snow to keep up circulation. It was the middle of January and cold enough to freeze her tits off.

"Yeah," Channon agreed. The Tiny Scum was in her arms, really screaming its head off now, only momentarily placated when she pressed his face against her bosom. "Who the fuck blows up a building these days? Especially one only occupied by three people."

"I don't know, but I want their testicles on a platter. Preferably charred and burnt beforehand." Yelena pulled out a pack of cigarettes, the one item besides the sheet she'd managed to salvage. She stuck two between her lips and crouched down to light them on a piece of flaming wreckage.

"I thought you and Royce had gotten me top-notch security after that whole baby porn incident." She pointed her cigarettes accusingly in Channon's face. "This?" She gestured at the remains of their apartment. "This is not what I'd call top-notch security."

Channon grabbed one of the cigarettes out of her hand, taking a drag. When Tiny Scum started mewling again, she stuck it in his mouth. "I saved your life, you twat. Stop bitching. Besides-"

She pointed behind Yelena, to where a group of muscled men and women in black shiny uniforms were marching around the corner, dragging along a pathetic-looking man with bloodshot eyes and track marks on his neck. "Death to lesbian journalists!" he cried hoarsely, eyes rolling and mouth frothing.

"We found the perp," the uniform in charge grunted. Yelena scowled.

She stomped over and kicked him in the face. It wasn't as satisfying as it would've been if she were wearing her combat boots--which had been destroyed in the explosion, dammit.

"Do you have any idea how much irreplaceable vintage porn you've destroyed?" she yelled at him, watching him wince as the end of her cigarette came dangerously close to his eye. "Not to mention my computer, you waste of a circumcision, and the best private vibrator collection on this coast-" she grabbed a beat stick from one of the officers to do more damage, but Channon's hand on her arm stopped her.

"He's going to spend the rest of his life getting his eye sockets raped by prison inmates," she said. "Show some mercy." Channon turned to the bomber and spit on his face; Yelena smiled.

Tiny Scum started bawling again, and the officers looked panicked by the sight of a child. They dragged the perpetrator away.

"God, can't you make him stop doing that?" Yelena glared at Tiny Scum, who was now red in the face and approaching purple.

Channon shifted him to her other hip. "He's your offspring, not mine," she said. "I don't know, he's probably cold, or maybe he's shit his pants again -- getting more like Spider every day." Tiny Scum continued to wail, and was now drooling a bit. Channon held him away from her in exasperation. "Will you call Royce already and make him get us a hotel room? Make sure it has a mini-bar. Also, you might request that the next apartment they give you isn't so easily blown up."

A few hours later, they were several stories up and safely ensconced in a room in the Saint Vita Hotel, courtesy of Yelena's two-fisted editor. Tiny Scum was in his crib, pacified with a miniature TV set to the historical massacres channel; Channon and Yelena were sprawled on the couch, watching cable and well on their way to being shitfaced.

"No one ever tried to blow up Spider's apartment," Channon said, finishing off her bottle of tequila.

"Fuck Spider." Yelena scowled and switched channels, from the news to a transient soap opera. "I thought we agreed never to talk about That Bastard in front of his scummy offspring."

Channon rolled her eyes. "He'll find out who his father is someday, you know."

"No he won't," Yelena snarled, stiffening against Channon's side. "He doesn't have a father. He was--he was conceived without sperm involved, like Jesus's mom."

"Whatever. As I was saying, Spider's probably spinning in his fucking grave, knowing that you've already provoked controversy to get yourself almost blown up -- it took him years to reach that level, and besides, his home was never that endangered." Channon's arm came around Yelena's shoulders, squeezing her. "You know, this whole thing is probably because of that article you wrote about the new terrorism wave being just a fad."

"No shit. I hadn't managed to put two and two together myself." On the TV screen, the hunky transient hero of the show was proposing to his girlfriend, twenty years his junior. She was pretty hot if you went for gray skin and red eyes, Yelena thought, her mind fuzzy from alcohol.

Channon's arm hugged her tighter, her finger drifting to stroke lightly along Yelena's collarbone. Yelena turned her head to rub her face against Channon's breasts, breathing in her sweat and the scent of her skin, cigarette smoke and soot from the explosion.

"If we fuck in front of him, do you think we might warp the Scumlet's sexuality?" Channon's hand moved to slip underneath Yelena's shirt, her thumbnail scraping Yelena's nipple.

"It'll give him something to whine to his therapist about." Yelena moved until she was straddling Channon's lap and leaned down, sliding her tongue into Channon's mouth. Channon squeezed her breast and Yelena moaned, grinding hard against her. In the background, the transient jailbait babe explained to her boyfriend that her parents would shoot him on sight if they found out, and Tiny Scum gurgled happily.