I wrote this fanfiction piece - my first and, probably, last one ever - for an early morning panel at LeakyCon. I was going through my stuff today and found it and thought I would share. Ignore the bad grammar and punctuation. What you get is what I wrote at like 3am the night before the panel.
Dirty and sad - that’s my brain - and now it’s in your brain - like a dirty/sad worm tunneling through your grey matter.
And if you don’t enjoy then blame Maureen Johnson. It’s all her fault ;)
"Missing The Pile Years"
(Portal Fan Fiction)
––Dedicated to Sarah Pitre & Henri Mazza who taught me the ways of the pile, or at least taught me the term ‘pile party’
The companion cube sat on the cold tile floor freezing its bottom off––at least its bottom of the moment. It was like a Rubik’s Cube: Lots of sides that were constantly changing position. Sometimes heads up. Sometimes bottoms down. Sometimes they were just plain old sides. It was random. The companion cube never knew which way it would land, not once it’d been dropped.
And dropped it HAD been. Released from the warm embrace it had––up until only a few seconds earlier––been wrapped up in. It was a shock. The loss of all the heat, and the special, intimate feeling that came with being manhandled––or womanhandled, really.
Because it was always a woman. Always female hands that scooped it up, and fondled its sides.
The companion cube loved being touched. Human skin had an aphrodisiac quality to it. Something in the human skin oils that made the cube feel as if it was a flesh and blood creature being (manually) stimulated in all the anatomically correct places. Not just a weighted companion cube made of Space Age polymer with zero ability to procreate.
If anyone had cared enough to ask, the companion cube could’ve told them all about its longing to have a baby. A little square. With tiny pink hearts all around. The spitting image of its parent companion cube.
Space Age polymer really screwed the companion cube over on that front.
There was a time long ago when the companion cube had been a normal weighted cube––no hearts, no companionship––and those had been lovely days. All the cubes would get together and sing karaoke and have a big old pile party.
The companion cube had liked being on top.
Top of the heap. King of the cubes. Master of the pile––those wild days were over. Now the companion cube was often alone. Childless, solitary…never invited to join in the pile partying.
And it damn well knew that hedonism still went on behind closed doors.
The depressing life of a companion cube.
A cold bottom and no future.
Having a heart wasn’t at all what it was cracked up to be.