FF->PP: Post 29: COOKIE
Jul. 26th, 2008 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterbladeCookie while I write something else. Come on, Nick, get meta!
*****
"You know what pisses me off, Cap?"
Stella can think of any number of things. Fury seems to be pretty much constantly pissed off. She got used to it after a few days, writes it off as a general dull Fury roar, nothing to worry about. "The mosquitos?" she guesses, smacking one on her shoulder.
"No, they're all going for you." He stretches smugly. "Maybe the smoke scares 'em off. No, what pisses me off is that you'd be a decorated hero by now, instead of just coming back from a shakedown mission with piece of shit equipment," and he kicks the broken shield, "if only you tinkled standing up."
She's rather pleased that he curses freely around her now, but just keeps sketching. "Should I put a sock in my pants and start dancing with girls, Sir?"
"Hell no. You should do just what you're doing--showing them you're a damn fine soldier."
"Good." She peers down at her chest for a moment. She's still tied down from the field work earlier--should probably change soon, she thinks, it's starting to pinch, and no doubt has some blood in it--but there's a smooth swell under her uniform shirt nonetheless. "These are too damn big for me to get away with it, anyway."
Fury's guffaw is so loud he startles the watch.
*****
(In case you're wondering? She's, like, C-cup. Maybe a D. And, no, she wasn't trying to pass as male; she pretty much never has. And, yeah, that's small for comic proportions. But when you're that physically active? You tie them the fuck down. Because otherwise it's the kind of pain and distraction you really don't need in combat. Just another one of those little things that a lot of--okay, yes, I'm going to be a twat for a moment here--male writers don't get.)
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!
*****
"You know what pisses me off, Cap?"
Stella can think of any number of things. Fury seems to be pretty much constantly pissed off. She got used to it after a few days, writes it off as a general dull Fury roar, nothing to worry about. "The mosquitos?" she guesses, smacking one on her shoulder.
"No, they're all going for you." He stretches smugly. "Maybe the smoke scares 'em off. No, what pisses me off is that you'd be a decorated hero by now, instead of just coming back from a shakedown mission with piece of shit equipment," and he kicks the broken shield, "if only you tinkled standing up."
She's rather pleased that he curses freely around her now, but just keeps sketching. "Should I put a sock in my pants and start dancing with girls, Sir?"
"Hell no. You should do just what you're doing--showing them you're a damn fine soldier."
"Good." She peers down at her chest for a moment. She's still tied down from the field work earlier--should probably change soon, she thinks, it's starting to pinch, and no doubt has some blood in it--but there's a smooth swell under her uniform shirt nonetheless. "These are too damn big for me to get away with it, anyway."
Fury's guffaw is so loud he startles the watch.
*****
(In case you're wondering? She's, like, C-cup. Maybe a D. And, no, she wasn't trying to pass as male; she pretty much never has. And, yeah, that's small for comic proportions. But when you're that physically active? You tie them the fuck down. Because otherwise it's the kind of pain and distraction you really don't need in combat. Just another one of those little things that a lot of--okay, yes, I'm going to be a twat for a moment here--male writers don't get.)
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!