oh mary i'm not coming home too soon

Home sweet place.

The thing about Victor and Cole's new place is that it is thoroughly babyproofed, neat, and mostly blue, though the 'neat' part might be in some slight question since you don't have two little ones in the house without toys getting strewn everywhere. There are toy baskets at the entrance of every room, but there are still little cloth books between couch cushions, a cyclopean teddy bear face down on the floor, and a blocky toy truck underfoot. Victor fixes that little tripping hazard with a swing of her cane, like she's playing croquet. It bumps into the couch. She bends, and picks it up.

At any rate, the place is mostly neat. "Think I can say that the baby ate my homework?" she asks Clark, as she makes her way to the nursery, napping, okay she'll be quiet, she tip-toes out, closes the door. "Can you believe the amount of work we get?"

"The password to the wifi is goodjobhacker, no spaces, no capital letters. I'll make us some coffee."

I totally got in trouble for spending three days in a room, working on programming.

SORRY GUYS I JUST GOT EXCITED!

[x] Body
[x] Personality
[o] Nanobot guts
[o] Functional AI
[_] Finishing touches

x = done
o = mostly done
_ = close to mostly done

We're looking at a projected 'birth day' in late July, which... considering that I've been working on this since October, is pretty rad.

The most remarkable thing about the wedding decorations: flowers peppered here and there, floating at shoulder height, big and lush like magnolias, with roots hanging down. The petals are glowing a soft ivory.

The least remarkable thing about the wedding decorations: the chairs, which are comfortable chairs and spaced evenly, rather a lot like chairs ought to be.

Things that are in between in their level of remarkableness: very many things. For instance....

( Read more... )

You are hereby invited to the wedding between:

Victor Allen
Cole Dover
and James Crane

May 7th, 2011 -- noon Central Nexus Time

[_] fish
[_] steak
[_] vegetarian
[_] fruitarian
[_] vegan
[_] kosher

Coordinates below.

The cliffs rise in front of them, straight up, white stone, with holes in it like lace, and it's hard to tell where the houses begin and the cliff face ends because it's all made of the same rock.

The air is warm and balmy, and it smells like salt and something coppery that needs getting used to in the nose, like water you step into that's too hot at first.

The grass is springy and blue under their feet, and they will find that they'll stick out the way particularly achy thumbs do, because they're the only mammalian humanoids on the entire planet.

The lab is one of those ridiculously shiny places that must have cost about a bajillion dollars (not really a bajillion, but quite a lot). There's the light whir of machinery already in progress, lengths of gurneys that probably shouldn't be asked about. This lab is the great bit about being friends and also friends with people who own their world, and that probably shouldn't be asked about either. This is one of many labs, in a mansion.

It's a private lab, and she has access, which is precisely why she's using it. It's not nearly as shady as the narration makes it out to be, it's really shining and state of the art, and pretty much enough to make a scientist melt into a puddle of knowledge and lab protocol and a crumpled version of the periodic table.

"Welcome to the lab," she says, attempting an ominous voice that comes out less than ominous.

Victor is in a pair of knee-long rainbow unicorn swim trunks. Victor is so subtle it hurts a little sometimes, with the gigantic aviators that cover up most of the face, the loose black t-shirt, and the big burgundy robe.

Vic's about to go jacuzzing with Malcolm, a new friend from far away. Vic is barefoot, legs also bare, appropriately SPFed, feeling really rather naked, which will soon prove to be an ironic feeling indeed.

((Drag-'verse!))

This year will be the year I get a tattoo.

I need to start on my Valentine's day cards.

Plans: I'm building the girls a dollhouse eventually, except that it'll be the coolest dollhouse of all time.

Victor's sent her boyfriend off to a spa planet, which means that today is a working day, just like the day before was, and the day before that. She's sectioned off a small corner of the Nexus as her workspace, and while she's not using a blowtorch anymore, she was a moment or so ago, if you judge by the blowtorch set off to the side and the protective gear that's piled right next to it. She's wearing a shirt that says 'I'm good, is that bad' on the front and 'I'm bad, is that good' on the back.

She's been working, when she hasn't been sleeping, eating, showering, or patrolling, and she has a lot to show for it. On the table she's been working on (really two tables pressed together), there are upwards of a couple hundred pieces of cut metal, and a whole metal arm, from shoulder joint to wrist, and half of a hand. The hand is what's taking up much of the time. There's also nuts, bolts, screws, hinges, and various thingamabobs in glass jars.

Now she's draped over a Nexus couch like she's been built into it, rocking out to Radiohead (she thought it was appropriate, considering what she's building).