Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible blah blah you know the frickin' drill.
Author's Note: I'm back!
Well, I actually never left, but I didn't publish anything, so...
Anyway, I'm back, and much more than this is coming soon. I know I say that a lot, but that's because it's always true. But it's truer this time than it's ever been before!
Anyway, here's a little Kigo-y palate-cleanser for you all. I wrote the italicized part in fifteen minutes, and I didn't bother to correct it at all for you guys, because spontaneity's the point of a fifteen minute writing prompt. I added the second (non-italicized) bit when I wasn't satisfied with the first bit, so that's why it's all correct-looking and stuff.
Oh, and I have no idea what I was thinking with the Gary Numan reference, so just, I dunno, pretend it says something else.
And that's all I have to say about that. Expect to hear more from me later this month. Cheers! :D
Creative Writing
A Kim Possible Shortfic
By
Ffordesoon
"I've learned your body like a nursery rhyme in Braille," says Shego, laughing at the way Kim's hair is prefectly fanlike on the pillow. Her eyes sparkle and shimmer, "Oh, you're a charmer." Shimmering pools of broken glass, that's what she sees, wondering if she caused that mirror-like perfection to crumble below herself or her Self. And that's what she wants, to be together like in a single flame licking the beauty of her goddess, that little irritant she grew to long for, sucking on her thumb like a newborn, listening to Gary Numan tapes, laughter together and one more time she trails saliva up the curve of Kim's hip, laughing at Kim's shivers. She's hers, she's hers, and they need no pronouns to go where they're going, gender is all gone, wiped away in a smoky green trail. Laughter, that's what Shego's always doing now, is laugjhing, and she smells better than usual. "What is that, strawberry shampoo?" "Mint," says Kim. She's adorable. She's like a girl in an Elvis Costello song, well, not really, maybe there's a better way to say that? Shego laughs, again and again, and this is a moment she'll remember, God knows why, but she's not going to forget it. And
Kim glanced at the clock. "Three o'clock in the morning. Awesome."
She looked back down at what she had written and was intensely embarrassed. She had thought she was just free-associating, but the pattern was obvious. Shego. Why, she couldn't say. And what were they doing!?
No, there was no way she could turn this in to Mr. Fredericks. It was Creative Writing 101, not... whatever this junk was.
Kim tore the page out of her free-association journal, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash. She rolled off of the swivel chair and thudded onto her bed. Sleep took her moments later.
----
"Kimmie," said Shego, suddenly in a tuxedo. "May I have this dance?"
The penguins in the audience gave their dance routine all tens. Abraham Lincoln gave them the gold medal and told Kim and Shego they were "going to Hollywood, baby!" Then Penguin Simon Cowell rolled his eyes at them. Then they climbed a gigantic wall of cake.
It was a weird dream, but Shego was there.
Kim smiled in her sleep.