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04 August 2006 @ 10:56 am
Ha. Watch latin_doll ignore LJ for the sake of studying. And I was so good at it for about... two days.

And zen zere vos zer challenge.

Title: There'll Be Children

Rating: PG-13, for violence and innuendo.

Summary: If the future isn't bright, at least it's colourful*. Only not. Angst angst angst. Blatant Polly/Mal, 1506 words.

*This is, of course, a line from Einstürzende Neubauten's "Youme & Meyou".

Notes: so it's like this: I'm supposed to be studying. This, strangely enough, involves a lot of time that I'd otherwise love to invest into LJ, so, until next Wednesday, comments and replies will be scarce. Just thought I'd say that.

There'll Be Children

The first light of the morning, filtered by the barred windows far above, reaches for Polly, but does, in fact, not wake her. Whatever false hope there is makes her look up, just for a moment.

In her lap, Mal's head stirs, and her eyes flutter open. "'s it morning already?" she mutters. "Damn." So good at pretending, Mal, it's not as if either of them has slept all night.

"A cunning observation," says Polly. Lets her fingers stroke lightly, lightly through Mal's hair, despite the sarcasm. "My leg's fallen asleep," she adds, because it's true. "Can you move a little?"

"Can try that," says Mal, and Polly slips her hands underneath Mal's shoulders, lifts her up carefully to adjust her position. It doesn't matter that much, because a numb leg is really, really, not the worst of their problems. And then Mal's head is resting on her thigh again and Polly resumes the two-handed stroking. No difference, really.

Mal says something and Polly realises she hasn't listened, on account of being too engrossed in the way the faint light is playing with Mal's hair. She's learned to pay attention to little details.

"Sorry?" she says.

"I said, Polly, my dear, woman who has a weird and strangely fascinating hair fetish don't stop, that I wish you a very happy birthday," says Mal. "Since we determined it's morning, and all."

"Oh," says Polly. "That."

Her hands are slowly getting as numb as her leg, so she traces the shapes of Mal's face, the curve of her jaw, the dark lines of her brows, as long as she still can. Breath clouds in chilly autumn air, and she wonders if she can lean down and kiss her, just once, or if that's too much sudden movement for Mal who, despite everything she says, seems to be in quite a lot of pain.

"You remembered," Polly adds.

"'course," says Mal. "Spent four birthdays with you. Although," and there, she smiles, even though the smile isn't very happy, or even very sane, "none was quite like this."

Polly exhales sharply. "I noticed."

Mal falls silent at this, and for a moment Polly is convinced Mal's fallen asleep. It'd be a blessing, really, Mal needs the sleep, so much that Polly doesn't even dare waking her from her nightmares when she has them. Even though they feature Polly, every last one of them. Polly knows this because they're contagious as well.

"Next year," murmurs Mal, suddenly, "next year there's going to be a party. With confetti. And twenty-five birthdays candles that you can not blow out in one go because, really, you smoke too much, I've always said that. And lots and lots of unnecessary decorations."

"Sounds good," says Polly. She doesn't care about decorations much, but she does care, yes, she does care about next year.

"Copious amounts of alcohol and caffeinated beverages," adds Mal, and her voice acquires a definitely unexpected wistful quality. "And a cake. That I'm going to bake. With my very own two hands oh damn -" and she trails off.

"Shh," says Polly, and her heart breaks a little. "Yes, you will. It'll be an appalling monstrosity of a cake, since you sort of fail at cooking and other assorted domestic tasks, and I will say I appreciate the thought and maybe lick some cappuccino creme off the top because I'm nice like that, but damn it, I am going to see you in an apron one of these days."

Mal lifts one eyebrow, slowly. "Only an apron, or -?"

"There'll be children," says Polly, indignantly but slightly thankful that the moment of despair was just that, a moment. "Shufti'll be having her kid - oh - last week, if I'm any judge."

"I'm going to teach them songs with questionable content," says Mal, peering up at her and looking positively impudent. "For your birthday. I'll line the kids up and have them sing for you and Paul and your father will be embarrassed to no end and Shufti'll just stand there with that I am oh so scandalised but not really look that she has perfected. Funny as hell, I think."

"That would be nice," says Polly. "Yes, I'd think I'd like that." Seeing Paul and Shufti and her father again; she'd like that.

"And poetry," Mal says. "I'm going to write a very awful poem for you, because that is practically expected since I am a vampire and all, and then I'll proclaim it at dinner with great heart-felt devotion. On my knees."

"And once again I must remind you there'll be children," says Polly.

Mal pouts. "And people think I am the one with the filthy imagination."

"Can't imagine why," says Polly. "Besides, I once had a very awful poem written for me. By a fifteen year old boy. You can't beat male adolescent poetry."

"I'm not sure," says Mal. "My poems reach quite abysmal depths. You need experience and talent to be this bad. Fifteen? I whine in your general direction."

"It starts with, 'Your eyes are as brown as freshly brewed coffee.'"

"See?" says Mal. "Not bad at all."

"He proceeded to rhyme that with 'toffee'," Polly informs her. "And no, I am not going to tell you which part of my anatomy he compared that with."

"Something sticky and... sickeningly sweet?" says Mal. "Boy, is he in for a surprise." She stretched a little. "And while that is quite awful as far as poetry goes, there'll also be rainbow-coloured balloons. Bet your male adolescent doesn't come close to being that cool."

"Rainbow-coloured -," says Polly. "I think you lost me there."

"Balloons," says Mal. "Bit like rubber sonkies, only they're for children and you kind of blow them up, but not in an explosion kind of way, and there's supposed to be some intrinsic satisfaction in that, but I'm sure I do not see why that is."

"That definition would be very helpful," says Polly, "but what are rubber sonkies?"

"Rubber sonkies, dear child, are -," says Mal, and there Polly strokes her face again, and she leans into that, eyes almost smiling for the first time in days, "- oh, never mind. I doubt you'll find yourself in a position where you'd need those anytime soon."

Polly's hands stop where they are, and Mal closes her almost smiling eyes, but neither can make that sentence unspoken, and the brightly coloured birthday dream crashes onto a dirty cell floor.

"No, I won't," says Polly, flatly. Suddenly, she wants to hurt Mal and she hates herself for it. "Because we're going to die and there's no way out and we're going to die, Mal."

"No, we're not," says Mal, and Polly's heart skips a beat, and not in a good way, because Mal adds, "You are. You're going to die. I can't."

For a moment, Polly really isn't sure which one is worse. She stares down on her hands, bound together with rope that hasn't given way to gnawing and tearing and isn't going to, either. They're tingling, numbing, and she's a bit afraid there'll be lasting damage, but she's really more afraid there won't be a chance to have the damage last.

She looks down at Mal, who has turned her head away to face the door instead, and if Polly didn't know her better... she leans forward to check. No, not crying, after all.

There might be rules against kicking prisoners in the head, but there really are no rules against chaining them up. Mal has hardly moved these last days, and every time she does and a previously unscarred bit of her wrists comes in contact with the silver, the pain makes her hiss between her teeth and that's really worse than any whimper or scream might be. And Polly doesn't know what to do, so she resumes the stroking of Mal's hair, her face, just to keep Mal distracted from the way the skin on her wrists has first reddened, then bubbled, peeled, scarred and dear sweet Nuggan Polly can't look at it.

"How many left?" asks Mal, softly. Her voice is controlled, Polly wonders how she does it. Her hands slide down to Mal's neck, fingers slip under the off-white collar, tug at the string underneath, the remains of a necklace. Polly closes her eyes and lets the tips of her fingers do the counting, even though she knows the answer. Doesn't matter, Mal knows it as well.

"Four," she says. Her fingers stroke Mal's face again, and Mal breathes deeply, smelling the scent off Polly's fingers, takes the time to softly kiss one of them, but maybe that's only for whatever faint trace of coffee is left there.

"Two days," murmurs Mal, and there isn't really a need to say anything else, so Polly just puts a finger on her lips and they fall silent again.

Polly supposes she should be glad that at least Mal isn't going to kill her on her birthday, but she isn't so sure how to go about that.


Update 2/9/07: Continued here.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 4th, 2006 12:41 pm (UTC)
Oh, my dear.
Oh, my dear.

Funny, how you can make me laugh and cry at the same time.
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 6th, 2006 06:04 am (UTC)
Oh. Now I feel sorta... proud. (The only thing that ever did that to me was the very nice movie Amelie, and yes, it is a very strange feeling.)

Re: are they ever getting out?

I have an inkling of a feeling that they do. Though that may have more to do with the fact that I also care very much about fictional characters (is worried about Jack Sparrow like whoa), and less with any idea I might have on the details of how.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 6th, 2006 12:31 pm (UTC)
Re: Jack Sparrow: He'll be fine. He wouldn't have been nearly so cool (on so many levels) about being eaten by the krakken if he wasn't going to be fine. :-)
Trust me on this, darlink. :-)

Re: How do they get out.

Mal has two days worth of coffee left.
Can she stretch that to four? (I'm assuming she's having one bean at morning and one bean at evening, yes?) If she stretched it to one bean per day -- it would be harder on her, but I think she's got enough pain to keep her distracted from the withdrawl.
After the beans are gone, however...
Mal lasted... how long(?) without any coffee? About four days, maybe?
So they've got about a week -- although it's possible that the acorn 'coffee' really was helping more than anyone thought it could. (Perhaps she'll end up sucking on the string for a little bit).
None of this, of course, gets them out but it does buy them some time.

I take it Mal *can't* pull those chains out of the wall? I mean, clearly it would hurt even more than it currently is, but eventually she'll stop caring, yes? Because Polly's blood is right there, just out of reach, and all she has to do is break a single link on each chaing (and, let's face it, silver's pretty maliable when we get right down to it).

How big is that window, and how far above them is it? Is it one of those 'just big enough to let in some air and some freezing cold, but not big enough to get out of' windows? Or is it big enough that someone *really* skinny might *just* be able to squeeze through -- if they could get the heavy, well-set grille out of the way? How is the door mounted?
Presumably the chains don't reach the door (but I could be wrong -- perhaps their captors are really, really nasty/clever and made sure that both of them could walk around the cell just fine, but couldn't quite get to the door -- Maybe Mal's chains will let her get within about two inches of the door frame, but not actually touch it? Or maybe not?)

So: 1) Flesh out the cell. What's that rope made of, anyway?

See: The way I see it, is that when Mal finally cracks -- having (I hope) had the foresight to tell her beloved 'you might want to sleep over there tonight', and nod her head wearily in the dirrection of the farthest corner of the cell.
Whether Polly will do it or not... I don't actually know.
She might give Mal that kiss she's been wanting to give her, though, since she's been asked to get up anyway.

Uh... Running out of character-space. To be continued in the next reply...
Amazonamazon_syren on August 6th, 2006 12:31 pm (UTC)
...Continued from the previous reply...
Back to the point: When Mal finally cracks, she's going to stop caring about the pain in her wrists, because the hunger will just take over. (Maybe Polly will see Mal's eyes glowing dimly in the dark. Maybe she'll wonder if she'll be safe as long as there's light filtering in through the high window -- though she'll doubt it, given Mal's tollerance for sunlight). So Mal could end up at least trying to break the chains.

Would the smell of Polly's blood have any effect *other* than driving her wild with hunger? Might their shared relationship have taught her instincts to treat *this* human like a 'pet-animal' rather than a 'slaughter-animal'?
What would happen to Mal if she broke her pledge?
Would Old!Mal come back?
What is Old!Mal like?
Would she be a civilized and charming vampire after one sip? Would she be able to come back to herself -- insofar as there's a pre-league-herself to come back to?
Hwo would she treat Polly?
In your ficverse, did Mal do the 'by arrangement' thing? Or did she just switch from human-drinker to prohibitionist in a week's time? Or what? That will (I think) affect how Mal acts towards Polly *after* that initial drink.

Is there a grille in the door? Or a food hatch?
Are they feeding Polly (or at least giving them water)? (How long have they been in there? Days? weeks? months? What are we working with?)

Could Mal use her Vampiric Powers of Persuasion (now that she has no qualms what-so-ever about using them) to get herself out of the cell? Would she bring Polly? Or would she happily go on a rampage through the enemy strong-hold?
What happens to Polly, in either event?
Does Mal get back on the wagon?
Is Polly there ('there' meaning 'alive' but also 'there' meaning 'willing') to support her if/when she does?

Does Mal even drink from Polly? Might she sacrifice the guard who brought their food (and who was told "Open This Door" by Mal, and then convinced very quickly to unlock the chains and then... uh... become a donor?) instead? What difference would that make (to Polly, to Mal, to the story-line, etc).

Does this help? Does it seem possible?

I hope that got you thinking in a helpful sort of way. ;-)

- Amazon. :-)
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 10th, 2006 02:40 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
I swear I didn't put *that* much thought into it.

Re: coffee - four beans are really not all that much, and she's already pretty deprived here, so I'd say three days at the most. Secondly, the withdrawal in MR had been preceeded by, well, regular coffee-intake, so she had more of a ground to stand on, you know? In conclusion, they don't really have all that much time.

Re: chains/ walls - I didn't mean that as being chained to the wall, just, you know, regular old handcuff-thingies. (I said "chained up", I think. Does that imply that walls are involved? Because now that I think about it, this might be a semantic thing. Huh.)

Re: Vampiric Powers of Persuasion (what a handy phrase): I actually think that the silver weakens Mal to the point where she loses her strange and fascinating super powers. No, really. Because she could have just dissolved into mist otherwise, and where would have been the point of the angst, then?

*If* she converts back into vampire-mode, things might be a bit different.

That's something Naru suggested - what if Polly allows Mal to bite her before Mal loses control? Because, actually, that *might* work. Even though Mal would probably have to go through withdrawal again, but she's doing that already, so, well, I dunno. (I think what she's afraid of most is that she's going to stop caring about Polly - going from "I love you and I don't want to hurt you but I will have to, eventually" to "I can hurt you because I don't care". And that might put a dent into their relationship.)

So, in conclusion, there is no storyline, because it's angst. But damn it, you got me thinking. *bemoans lack of time*
Amazonamazon_syren on August 11th, 2006 02:40 am (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Re: Coffee. Very good points, all of them. Hrm...

Re: "Chained up" --> Okay, yes, could be semantics. I just assumed that 'chained up' was a reference to the typical dungeon accoutrement of shackles hanging from the walls.
Re: Silver: See, I always thought that 'good thing it's not silver' comment from Jackrum was just Jacky being hazy on the details of what hurts vampires vs what hurts werewolves.
That being said, this is your fic and you can do what you like. ;-) So, hell: If silver hurts her physically, why *wouldn't* it also screw with the Amazing Vampiric Super Powers.

Re: Biting Polly Early: See... I think that's a good idea. Assuming, of course, that *just* biting her won't make Polly go vampy (which, personally, I don't think it will, because otherwise we'd (and by 'we' I mean Borogravia... er...) be up to our arm-pits (or higher) in vampires, and fast running out of new food.
So... It might be enough to keep the Beast quiet. Sort of like taking scuba divers out to shark-infested waters, but making sure you feed the sharks first so that they aren't hungry and don't bother trying to eat the divers.
Sort of.
And by 'sort of' I am also referring to the fact that feeding the sharks doesn't always work, and sometimes backfires.
But, none the less, it *might* work, and as such, it *could* work, so why not? :-)

Regarding the 'stopping caring' thing...

See... I now have this mental image of Mal drinking from Polly, and the somewhat convaluted thought-process involved in doing so... walking the line between 'just think of it as rat blood' and 'this is like drinking from Carmine, remember?' (Because I think about this stuff with my ficverse's perameters, usually. ;-)
Uh, yeah... Basically, she'd have to watch herself. Disassociate from the fact that she's drinking *human* blood (keeping the Beast distracted, or something), without slipping into thinking of Polly (beloved, person) as livestock (food animal).

I can picture her taking little, tiny sips (again, is Polly getting fed? It's important because (A) I/we don't know how long they've been down there, and (B) even if they've only been down there for two days (I get the feeling it's been much longer), Polly still needs to be able to recover from donor-hood in order to be able to bleed again for Mal) -- but, yeah. I can picture Mal taking little, tiny sips, afraid to take too much, afraid to show (or even admit, jsut to herself) how much she likes it, afraid to like it as much as she does... I can see her backing off, savouring the taste -- partly because it's *food*, and partly because it's the food she really likes, and partly because it's Polly, who she loves and needs and adores -- and gaging what it's doing to her. Is it enough to stave off madness? Is she still herself? Is it making her sick (the way fillet mignon would make someone sick if all they'd been eating for the past six or seven years was ground chicken)? All these little questions that she has to get through, with every sip.
I can see her finally pulling away, blood on her lips, on her chin, leaning against the stone wall with her eyes closed, half in bliss, but also (maybe?) in surrender? In despair? In relief?
I can see her opening her eyes again, catching the flicker of fear in Polly's eyes (because Polly wouldn't have known any better than Mal did whether Mal would still be herself after that) -- I can see Mal reaching for Polly, and Polly cringing/flinching away, and Mal stopping in her tracks, peirced through the heart by that slight, involluntary motion. (For an instant the pain of her wrists was obliterated by something that, surprisingly, hurt even more...).
"...I'm still me," she whispered, her voice clogged with tears that she can't shed.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded mutely.
"I'm sure."


How are they going to get the ropes off of Polly?
Or the cuffs off of Mal?

<*Bemones your lack of time! It's after Wednesday, isn't it?*>

- Amazon. :-)
around the duck pondlatin_doll on August 11th, 2006 03:49 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Re: lack of time: I've got three more fucking exams like the one one Wednesday. (Which I passed. Heh.) Right now I'm just waiting for my brain to cool off enough to start studying again and get over caffein withdrawal, but that should really happen somewhere in the next few days. (Until then I'll just faff around doing nothing and maybe finally finish off the monster!oneshot, because that one's been nagging me. It's lacking a new ending, but I think I kinda know how it's supposed to go. I hope.)

Re: silver: I'm also confused there, because I think Mal said something like "Yes, it is" there, and the whole thing totally failed to turn out to be a plot point. But going by Pratchett, discworld vampires are hurt by what they think will hurt them, so, I think I'm on pretty safe grounds there :)

Now, what I think might happen here is that the taste of blood *will* make Mal revert, which in turn *will* make her stop caring about Polly the way she does, or at least, she's very afraid of that happening. (Because, hey, being in love is just awesome.)* And of course, it might also alter Polly's perception of being safe in this relationship, and if she can't feel safe anymore, it's probably better to just end the whole thing. Damn.

*Latin_doll's View of Vampirism: not an underlying instinct that interferes with higher cognition from time to time, but an underlying instinct that gets to be higher cognition from time to time.**

**At least, in this ficverse. I seem to acquire rather a lot of them.

As to the backstory: they've been there for about a week*, I think, and they *are* getting fed (sorta) and watered because nobody's quite sure what to do with them. Whichever nation is holding them captive seems to suffer from some slight vampire phobia, though, hence the silver. (Or maybe they know they'd have a very hard time keeping a vampire *inside* the cell, otherwise. Dunno.)

*which is really quite long, if you think about it.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 11th, 2006 05:48 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Re: Silver:
"Yes," said Maladict. "It is."

I took that to mean. "No, you utter, uneducated buffoon, silver doesn't hurt vampires, it hurts werewolves. But I'm fucking sick of correcting people about it, so I'm just going to let it go this time so that I can stop talking to the pair of you for a bit."

Of course, I might have been reading too much into it. ;-)

Re: Mal reverting: Okay. Much as I'd like to think she wouldn't, this is your fic, so we do it your way. :-)
If Mal reverts... See... There's that whole (cannon) by-arrangement thing. I don't know if Mal took that route in your (this) ficverse, but the fact that one can contract out (rather than just attack) one's meals, without having to put them in thrall first, suggests that Mal wouldn't necessarily stop caring about Polly.

Question: Are there rats? By which I mean: Is *Mal* getting fed and watered, or just Polly? Is she just in withdrawl, or is she one third of the way to death by starvation, too?

I'm assuming the only sharp stuff in the cell is Mal's teeth (which are enough to cut through flesh, but not enough to gnaw through rope? How did that work, again?) -- So it's not like Polly could cut herself and bleed into the empty tin cup for Mal (thus adding some handly ritual distance to the proceedings? Maybe? Would it help if that happened?)

Re: Backstory: I suspect it's the thing about keeping Mal inside the cell. (Anyone with half an ounce of common sense suffers from some vampire-phobia. ;-)
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 13th, 2006 01:01 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
I took that to mean. "No, you utter, uneducated buffoon, silver doesn't hurt vampires, it hurts werewolves. But I'm fucking sick of correcting people about it, so I'm just going to let it go this time so that I can stop talking to the pair of you for a bit...

... and talk to that hopeful young private instead." We know how the story goes :)

That, of course, would be a total Maladict thing to do. Still, I'm going to assume silver hurts her, for the sake of angst :)

Where in canon is the arrangement thing?

There are a few rats to add to the general gloom, but, you know, my Mal is perfectly capable of doing the solid food thing. They are being fed, they just aren't being fed a lot.

Re: rope/teeth: you know, thick rope made of hemp or something other? Skin is somewhat softer than that, I think. Plus there's the whole issue of the rope being far too close to Polly's bloodstream.

(I realise I'm giving them a hard time getting out of the cell, but really, if there were an easy way out, the fic above wouldn't have had much of a point, really.)

Call that reformed!vampire phobia, then :)
Amazonamazon_syren on August 13th, 2006 01:37 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Re: Story: Yes, exactly. :-D
And, yes, it would so totally be a Maladict thing to do. :-)
But, as stated earlier (somewhere), it's your fic, you do what you like. :-)

The Canon of the 'arrangement thing': It's in "Thud", actually. And in "The Fifth Elephant". (So maybe it hadn't got to Borogravia yet -- I choose to interpret otherwise). At any rate, in the DW Universe/Multiverse of PTerry's creation, not all vampires go cold-bat. Some choose to get their human-blood-fix by arrangement: By having a volunteer (or, conversely, paying someone a handsome sum -- or in food, or what-ever) for the chance to take a drink.
Lady Margolota, in "...Elephant" that you can reject your vampy instincts, or retrain them at least, in steps: "Bite, but don't impale", "drink, but don't drain". Stuff like that. Basically you teach yourself to be satisfied with a smaller drink, but leave your donor alive (and more than able to recover) -- and, conveniently, this also means that your donor might come back later. Renewable food-source in significantly lesst han a generation. The Donors may not like you much, but people start getting the idea that you can Come Back from Dontgonearthe Castle (or wherever), and might just become *slightly* less likely to turn you into a short kebab. :-)

So... *If* Mal went the route of steps, instead of just leaping into the cold-bat immediately (<*cough*> it migth help our heroic duo if that were the case <*cough*>) then, when she started reverting -- provided she had the opportunity ('cause clearly she wasn't asking for donors in MR, although since she'd only known them a week or three, the reason is probably her own Trust Issues as much as anything else) to drink some donor-blood, she might only revert to by-arrangemetn vampirism, rather than "I've been starved of real food for years, what the fuck???" vampirism.

Hey, question, what kind of silver cuffs are we talking about here? Are they relatively tight shackles? Or are they handcuffs (slightly looser, though not loose enough to slide right off, obviously)?
Given the horrible burns, I'm assuming it's probably the latter.
This brings me to: Any chance Polly could tear some fabric off Mal's shirt (her hands are bound, so she can do it to her own, right?) and use it to bind Mal's wrists so that the cuffs can't touch her actual skin?
It would do much for bringing back the Vampiric Super Powers, but it might make things hurt a bit less (and, thus, possibly help Mal stay herself a little longer... failing that, it would just make her hurt less).
Thoughts? :-)
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 15th, 2006 01:56 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
If blood is comparable to a physically addictive drug, then, as far as I know, Mal will revert to WTF!vampirism. If, as implied, it's all in her head, then -

I don't know, actually. But to me, it sounds like WTF!vampirism anyway. Either way, she'd probably have to go through withdrawal again, under slightly more controlled circumstances.

I'm pondering the donor thing, you know? But with Polly not being at the height of physical health and Mal not being at the height of *anything*, things might just turn a little icky, and I'm not that opposed to a little doom in my stories. (Comes with not having one single ficverse :) They might be picking flowers and petting fluffy kittens next.)

Re: cuffs - the thought crossed my mind, actually, and as of yet I do not have an answer to why that doesn't work (it can't work, because you'd think they'd have thought of that after a week of nothing much to do). The cuffs aren't that loose (but obviously loose enough to move about a bit). Maybe it isn't actual contact that burns Mal, but close proximity - in that case, the fabric might melt in with her skin - ouch - but I realise that scenario doesn't make *that* much sense.

Or maybe they just get checked on regularly and are understandably attached to the idea of keeping their clothes.

Shit. I'm mean.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 16th, 2006 01:27 am (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Or maybe they just get checked on regularly and are understandably attached to the idea of keeping their clothes.

Eeg. Gotcha.


Could Mal go WTF!vampiric on a would-be rapist? (Fitting fate for him, I think... getting punctured when it was his intention to puncture? Mwahahahaha...) That could work. He might even have left the door open and/or have the keys to those cuffs somehwere on his person.
(Too easy?)

around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 17th, 2006 09:07 am (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
A fitting fate, indeed :) I do not know.


Zer Monster!Oneshot, it is done.

(Well, almost. Maybe a sentence here and there... but I tied up the loose ends and there were a lot and damn it I need to brag.)

(I think one could maybe get Polly out first - I do not know how - and have her come back for Mal later. If only time weren't lacking.)
Amazonamazon_syren on August 17th, 2006 01:42 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! :-D


I shall endeavor to control my delight. ;-)

<*wants to read!*>

Is it posted yet? :-)

Re: Current Fic Connundrum:
Get Polly out first: How?
Also: If Mal's reverted to WTF!Vampirism, getting her out -- sane -- may be a bit more difficult. ("More difficult than having no way out *at all*?", I hear you ask -- "Okay, maybe not." ;-)
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 17th, 2006 05:40 pm (UTC)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply...
Not yet, but I suspect there's the slight possibility that the prologue will be posted somewhere around the weekend. (I cannot and will not post all 175 freaking pages of it at once. There.)

Re: how to get Polly out: I have no idea :D. But the mental image of Polly re-entering that cell, holding a cup of coffee as if it were a weapon, is... angstily cute, or cutely angsty.

(In case of WTF! vampirism, she could still hit Mal over the head with the cup. It worked once.)
Re: ...Continued from the previous reply... - amazon_syren on August 17th, 2006 08:14 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Kitty Ryankitty_ryan on August 4th, 2006 12:53 pm (UTC)
*shivers* That was unexpected and sad and hillarious at the same time. The joking and inuendo was spectacularly manic, especially when contrasted with the end. I felt terrified on their behalf.
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 6th, 2006 06:09 am (UTC)
Thank you :) Glad it worked like intended. (Uploaded the thing to ff.n and chose the categories as angst/humor. Now there's something I've never done before.)
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around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 6th, 2006 06:11 am (UTC)
They get out and find coffee.

But I'm not sure how, so, I'm with you on the gah.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 6th, 2006 12:32 pm (UTC)
Woohoo! :-D
(Deleted comment)
around the duck pondlatin_doll on August 10th, 2006 02:44 pm (UTC)

Ah, well, they did some spying patrolling behind enemy lines on someone's very clever orders and got caught. And now people are figuring out what to do with them. I don't think they know about the coffee thing, but they probably wouldn't care either way.
Amazonamazon_syren on August 5th, 2006 02:23 am (UTC)

Are they going to get out?

<*Is hoping far, far too much on behalf of fiction characters. And doesn't care.*>
Ilthit: <3 (bats)ilthit on August 7th, 2006 02:39 pm (UTC)
around the duck pond: very tiny mal in colourlatin_doll on August 10th, 2006 02:46 pm (UTC)
I like speechlessness :D
Max the Blue Meanie: diderotkaukomieli on December 12th, 2006 07:52 pm (UTC)
Came across this one while getting acquainted with the community :)

I love this fic. It's so sad and touching and sweet at the same time. Wonderful ♥
around the duck pond: pollyxmallatin_doll on December 13th, 2006 03:12 pm (UTC)
Say! Are you really reading the whole community from beginning to end? (Not that *I* did that when I joined, oh no. Those were good times.)

:D Glad you liked!
Max the Blue Meanie: musketeerskaukomieli on December 13th, 2006 03:32 pm (UTC)
More or less. But very slowly *grin*
fivemisosoup: Eh?fivemisosoup on July 21st, 2007 04:04 am (UTC)
This is a very good fic to come into this fandom on, I think. =D I just finished the book (yeah, way behind the times, I know) and was excited to go looking for some scraps of a fandom despite being fairly sure Monstrous Regiment was the only book with these characters (...right?)

Ah, and as I scroll up I'm not the only one who's felt compelled to go through and find the gooduns. XD
around the duck pondlatin_doll on July 22nd, 2007 05:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you :D That was totally the first thing on my mind after finishing MR: let's see if there's fan fiction...