The following poem belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.
Fandom: Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Wild Card: 307. Magical/Soul Bond
Summary: Pat's connection with his car gets considerably closer.
Content Notes: This is what amounts to an interspecies relationship.
It began as a tickle at the back of his mind,
like the crackle of static on a soft summer night
when he was sitting outside but the car windows were down
and he could just make out the sound of the radio.
At first Pat thought he was imagining it,
but the feeling grew, the same way
a radio station slowly came into focus
as he cruised down the highway
toward its distant antenna.
The faint crackle became a hum,
became a murmur, the merest hint
of a woman's voice, suggestion of painted lips
and cardinal red fingernails with curved tips, hair
in windblown curls of wild auburn, eyes like burnt oak,
skin as soft and pale as linen,
body sleek and sexy and built for speed.
Well, Pat had seen stranger things,
seen the Teflon Tesseract light up
and fling colors in the sky like the strings
of a carwash mop across a windshield,
then let out monsters or invaders
or some other mayhem once or twice a month.
There was, after all, the sentient coffee table
that had taken up residence in Ash's room;
and if one inanimate object could have a mind of its own,
perhaps others might acquire it, even if
sentient objects were only the norm
in that distant andervector, not here.
So Pat grabbed his keys and walked to his car.
Scarlett sat in her usual space,
a beautiful red Bentley with a custom dash
and a few unique additions courtesy of Alex and Bailey.
Pat trailed a warm brown hand along her taillight
and up the curve of the rear window.
Quit dawdling and get in me!
Scarlet said quite clearly in the back of his mind,
flicking the driver's side door open.
Grinning, Pat hopped into the seat
and turned the key in the ignition.
The engine purred under the hood
as he gripped the steering wheel,
his hands at ten-and-two,
shaping themselves around the leather.
"Hello, honey," Pat said, "I'm home."