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thecrazyalaskanKARR was a little embarrassed to admit he liked poetry—it wasn't exactly something he and those to whom he was cl… people he knew saw eye to eye. KITT liked poetry as well, yes, but his distaste for KARR rendered that common interest irrelevant. Miss Barstow and Mr. Miles didn't care what he thought, and Michael simply didn't like to read. No, the black and silver Trans AM was on his own on this one.
At first, it was something to do to pass the time—while Michael was away, KARR would settle himself in a parking place, be his unassuming self and pull up a poetry file, mostly sorted by poet or period. Eventually, KARR found it to be a relaxant—poetry made him feel better after a long day, or when he was feeling down.
By the time he was given his human shell, KARR was something of a connoisseur, and had started to wonder what writing poetry was like. He had all these thoughts in his CPU, many of them confusing and about his emotions, his place in the world; perhaps if he tried writing them down, he could better sort them out…?
On their first sweep to find Garthe and KITT (who it seemed was his little sister, and not his little brother as everyone had presumed), Michael had thrust a fifty-dollar bill in KARR's hands and told him to go buy whatever to kill some time. KARR had looked down at the bill, folded it over and stuck it in his trouser pocket, and looked around him. There was a little office supply store, and he felt himself being drawn to it. He still had poetry on his mind, and now that he was human and had the hands to do so—well, why not invest in a cheap notebook and Bic pen?
He ended up choosing more than that—a journal with heavy, cream colored pages and a black leather cover, and a pen with navy ink. It was expensive (in KARR's mind, nearly twenty dollars after sales tax), but it was too nice to simply walk past it in favor of a notebook and a barrel pen.
He quickly rejoined Michael, who huffed at the purchase but didn't say anything more about it. That night, in the hotel while Michael was in the shower, KARR wrote his first poem, about the painting of a fly fisherman that was hanging on the wall over his bed. It was a sort of test, just him trying his new hand at it… and he was very proud of his handiwork. He almost showed Michael, but decided against it at the last moment. He wanted to improve his craft before he offered it up to another human's eyes.
In the weeks that followed, KARR wrote several more poems of varying lengths. Occasionally, he would scribble down a few lines in the car as they drove to follow a new lead, but mostly he wrote when he was alone—waiting for Michael to return from investigating, while Michael was getting them food for the road, while Michael was showering…
Although he didn't write in Michael's presence, he certainly wrote about him. Over time, he found many of his poems discussing Michael were starting to have more and more romantic overtones. The realization almost surprised him—he knew he was developing feelings for Michael, and badly at that, but he never dared try to discuss them with Michael, or anyone else. It was something he didn't even feel comfortable telling April, and he told her nearly everything. So he contented himself with his journal and pen, letting his poetry do the talking for him.
Eventually, one afternoon, Michael addressed this—"So what do you write in that thing all the time, anyway?"
KARR lifted his head from his work, his pen poised over the page, and glanced over at his companion. "Just… it's nothing."
"Uh-huh," Michael replied, clearly not believing the words. "You've been writing a hell of a lot of nothing in that journal, then."
"Well, I guess 'nothing' isn't the right word," KARR quickly amended. "It's… I've been writing some poetry."
"Poetry?" Michael repeated, looking over at KARR, his eyebrows lifted slightly. "You write poetry?"
"I try to," KARR admitted.
"Let me see." So saying, Michael reached over and pulled the journal from the AI's hands.
"It's not very good," KARR weakly protested.
"Shut up," Michael replied, flipping the journal open to the last page that had been written on and laying it on the steering wheel like it was a desk.
KARR nodded mutely, then angled himself away from Michael to stare out the window. Oh Lord, Michael was going to read what he'd written? He could already feel his face burning up from embarrassment.
Michael fixed KARR (or rather, KARR's back) with a look of mild confusion, then looked down at the last thing he had written:
Quite the pair, we—
Mute and deaf.
Me, mute—
Unable to describe
How much you mean to me,
How much I care.
You, deaf—
Or is it blind—
To how I feel?
The poem looked about half formed, or it could have been finished for all he knew. "You wrote this?" he asked, looking over at KARR again.
KARR glanced over his shoulder, and straightened himself slightly in his seat. "Y-yes," he mumbled.
"What, are you trying to be some kinda Shakespeare or something?" Michael pressed.
"Not really," KARR answered.
"Good—because you aren't." Michael flipped the book shut and pushed it back into KARR's hands.
The AI looked down at the journal in his hands. "Do you think I could improve?" he asked softly.
Michael grunted slightly in response as he turned onto the freeway. To anyone else, it was just a sound; to KARR, it was Michael's way of saying, "Perhaps."
-.-.-.-
Title: Some Kind of Shakespeare or Something
Author: TheCrazyAlaskan
Fandom / Setting: Classic Knight Rider, mirror universe
Characters / Pairings: light / one-sided Michael x KARR, mentions of several others
Rated: T
Genre: General
Summary: KARR tries his hand at poetry.
Christ I love writing KARR in a human shell. <3 And hey look, legit male!KARR.
Michael, KARR, Knight Rider © Glen A Larson
At first, it was something to do to pass the time—while Michael was away, KARR would settle himself in a parking place, be his unassuming self and pull up a poetry file, mostly sorted by poet or period. Eventually, KARR found it to be a relaxant—poetry made him feel better after a long day, or when he was feeling down.
By the time he was given his human shell, KARR was something of a connoisseur, and had started to wonder what writing poetry was like. He had all these thoughts in his CPU, many of them confusing and about his emotions, his place in the world; perhaps if he tried writing them down, he could better sort them out…?
On their first sweep to find Garthe and KITT (who it seemed was his little sister, and not his little brother as everyone had presumed), Michael had thrust a fifty-dollar bill in KARR's hands and told him to go buy whatever to kill some time. KARR had looked down at the bill, folded it over and stuck it in his trouser pocket, and looked around him. There was a little office supply store, and he felt himself being drawn to it. He still had poetry on his mind, and now that he was human and had the hands to do so—well, why not invest in a cheap notebook and Bic pen?
He ended up choosing more than that—a journal with heavy, cream colored pages and a black leather cover, and a pen with navy ink. It was expensive (in KARR's mind, nearly twenty dollars after sales tax), but it was too nice to simply walk past it in favor of a notebook and a barrel pen.
He quickly rejoined Michael, who huffed at the purchase but didn't say anything more about it. That night, in the hotel while Michael was in the shower, KARR wrote his first poem, about the painting of a fly fisherman that was hanging on the wall over his bed. It was a sort of test, just him trying his new hand at it… and he was very proud of his handiwork. He almost showed Michael, but decided against it at the last moment. He wanted to improve his craft before he offered it up to another human's eyes.
In the weeks that followed, KARR wrote several more poems of varying lengths. Occasionally, he would scribble down a few lines in the car as they drove to follow a new lead, but mostly he wrote when he was alone—waiting for Michael to return from investigating, while Michael was getting them food for the road, while Michael was showering…
Although he didn't write in Michael's presence, he certainly wrote about him. Over time, he found many of his poems discussing Michael were starting to have more and more romantic overtones. The realization almost surprised him—he knew he was developing feelings for Michael, and badly at that, but he never dared try to discuss them with Michael, or anyone else. It was something he didn't even feel comfortable telling April, and he told her nearly everything. So he contented himself with his journal and pen, letting his poetry do the talking for him.
Eventually, one afternoon, Michael addressed this—"So what do you write in that thing all the time, anyway?"
KARR lifted his head from his work, his pen poised over the page, and glanced over at his companion. "Just… it's nothing."
"Uh-huh," Michael replied, clearly not believing the words. "You've been writing a hell of a lot of nothing in that journal, then."
"Well, I guess 'nothing' isn't the right word," KARR quickly amended. "It's… I've been writing some poetry."
"Poetry?" Michael repeated, looking over at KARR, his eyebrows lifted slightly. "You write poetry?"
"I try to," KARR admitted.
"Let me see." So saying, Michael reached over and pulled the journal from the AI's hands.
"It's not very good," KARR weakly protested.
"Shut up," Michael replied, flipping the journal open to the last page that had been written on and laying it on the steering wheel like it was a desk.
KARR nodded mutely, then angled himself away from Michael to stare out the window. Oh Lord, Michael was going to read what he'd written? He could already feel his face burning up from embarrassment.
Michael fixed KARR (or rather, KARR's back) with a look of mild confusion, then looked down at the last thing he had written:
Quite the pair, we—
Mute and deaf.
Me, mute—
Unable to describe
How much you mean to me,
How much I care.
You, deaf—
Or is it blind—
To how I feel?
The poem looked about half formed, or it could have been finished for all he knew. "You wrote this?" he asked, looking over at KARR again.
KARR glanced over his shoulder, and straightened himself slightly in his seat. "Y-yes," he mumbled.
"What, are you trying to be some kinda Shakespeare or something?" Michael pressed.
"Not really," KARR answered.
"Good—because you aren't." Michael flipped the book shut and pushed it back into KARR's hands.
The AI looked down at the journal in his hands. "Do you think I could improve?" he asked softly.
Michael grunted slightly in response as he turned onto the freeway. To anyone else, it was just a sound; to KARR, it was Michael's way of saying, "Perhaps."
-.-.-.-
Title: Some Kind of Shakespeare or Something
Author: TheCrazyAlaskan
Fandom / Setting: Classic Knight Rider, mirror universe
Characters / Pairings: light / one-sided Michael x KARR, mentions of several others
Rated: T
Genre: General
Summary: KARR tries his hand at poetry.
Christ I love writing KARR in a human shell. <3 And hey look, legit male!KARR.
Michael, KARR, Knight Rider © Glen A Larson
