#'post a snippet' me: posts half a fic

[sparklingbinjuice]

For the WIP meme: Puppy Love, please! I want to read more of your Torres so bad. Also Oeznik’s Big Day Out, because that sounds adorable.

Thank you for asking <3. More about Oeznik's Big Day Out (should be Big Night Out) here!

Sweet bebe Torres. It's been too long. The premise of Puppy Love was: (set in the nebulous Zemo parole universe) Zemo notices that Torres has a big crush on Bucky and manipulates the situation to get them both in bed with him. There's potential for it to be fluffy, but it definitely will not be lmao. I've planned 3 chapters with switching POVs, which I don't normally do so we'll see how it turns out.

It had started out innocently enough – Joaquin watching James intently during briefings, barely blinking, a mixture of awe and adoration in those sweet doe eyes. Then there were the jokes, addressed to all three of them but clearly directed primarily at Barnes. The crestfallen expression when they were pointedly ignored. It was sweet really – the new puppy pestering the old dog, always hopeful that this time he would want to play. At first, Zemo had thought it was nothing more than a young soldier’s admiration for his superior (in every way but rank), in years and strength and experience. But then they had been in the cabin of the jet, hurriedly changing into their combat gear after receiving intel that a friendly contact was now a hostile contact. And Zemo, observing the scene with a glass of warm champagne in his hand, had caught Joaquin sneaking furtive glances at James’ naked back, at the scarred shoulder where skin met metal, at the unnecessarily tight black briefs and tighter ass beneath them.

some first draft Torres POV. this is more than a snippet but i'll probably never do anything with it so i might as well put it here!

It was weird without Sam or Sergeant Barnes. Like being left home alone with a stepdad for the first time. Not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar.

The living space of their latest, luxurious base was large and open plan – a single room containing lounge, library, kitchen, and dining area. Nowhere to hide. No escape from his gracious host slash parolee.

Joaquin perched awkwardly at the end of the long leather couch, opening and closing the same five apps on his phone while Zemo puttered about in the kitchen, humming to himself.

He could always head up to his small bedroom for an hour or two of precious privacy. It was sparsely furnished, though, with only a cot and closet, and Joaquin was embarrassed to think what the baron might imagine he was doing up there. The bathroom posed a similar problem.

He wanted to take a walk, get some air, but he was meant to be playing guard for the day – keeping an eye on the prisoner. He looked up from twitter at the wrong moment to find said prisoner watching him, head slightly tilted.

“You mustn’t take it to heart,” Zemo said suddenly, “The things James says. He’s a very troubled man.”

“I don’t think I’m meant to, you know, talk to you.”

“Please, Joaquin. Have I done anything to indicate that I can’t be trusted?”

He opened his mouth to list one of the many, many incidents of Zemo’s blatant insubordination but the baron continued, undeterred.

“I’ve become unfortunately invested in the success of your little trio... fighting the good fight. I only wish to ensure that the team continues to function effectively.”

“And we appreciate your help. Really, the jet and the houses and stuff. It’s... It’s been great. I just don’t think...”

“My hospitality is the only gift I have left to offer.”

He poured a second tumbler of the clear liquid and offered it up. Joaquin accepted, unsure what else to do.

“Have you ever tried Mastiha?”

“Is that a vodka, or..?”

“It’s a liqueur made in Chios using the resin of the mastic evergreen. It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”

“Sure. I... OK.”

“As I was saying, the tension between yourself and Sergeant Barnes is beginning to concern me.”

“Tension? I don’t... I don’t think there’s tension. We disagree sometimes, but who doesn’t? I mean, we’re still getting to know each other and I... I know he’s been through a lot, so I try to make things...”

“Easy,” Zemo finished for him, with an understanding nod. “Of course. It’s kind of you. Only, I don’t enjoy seeing you allow yourself to be treated unfairly, talked down to and lectured as though you were a child.”

“I’m not... That’s not what I...”

“I see you, Joaquin. Your ambition. Your strength. Your potential. Super-soldiers,” he gestured vaguely with his glass, lips thinning disapprovingly, “They can never see us mere mortals as equals, only as lambs to be rescued or wolves to be slain, never as fellow shepherds capable of doing our part to protect the flock.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“No. Forgive me. The Mastiha brings out the poet in me. I only mean to say that I believe you are an invaluable member of this little squad. Sam was right to pass the wings down to you.”

“Oh. I... Thanks.”

“Of course. I’m sure Sergeant Barnes will come to recognise this too. Given time.”

#'post a snippet' me: posts half a fic #i'm sorry #my stuff #my fics #ask games #the-ravening #i also have no idea what to do with sam for this fic and i feel bad

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @hippolotamus

sooo bucktommy won me over, i couldn't resist anymore 🙈 so here's a bit of them after their date lol just to be clear, im still 10000% about buddie but im gonna enjoy this while it lasts bc I feel like this is exactly what buck needs rn lol I just wanna write him be giddy and stupid and flustered about a boy even if that's not eddie haha (also, I didn't get the Tommy hype before but after seeing him everywhere for two days... I get it now 🥵)

___

"(...) We should do this again.” Tommy says, turning fully towards Buck, and Buck’s eyes immediately find his lips. He can’t wait to kiss him again, and this would be the time, at the end of the date, wouldn’t it?

“We should.” Buck nods, licks his lips, eyes darting up to Tommy’s eyes. He’s smiling softly, just looking at Buck. “I-” he starts, and then thinks, fuck it, and this time he makes a move, as he leans across the console to grab Tommy’s chin, like he did Buck’s in his kitchen, and bring him in for a kiss. Tommy immediately reciprocates, and Buck melts against him, and then when Tommy’s calloused hand covers his cheek, it just feels so- so different, in the best way possible. This kiss lasts longer than the first one, each of them constantly coming back for more, but it’s as gentle and tender as that one. Buck loves it, and can’t help smiling into it. He wants more. “Hey.” Buck says, finally pulling away, licks his spit-covered lips nervously. “Do you- do you maybe wanna come in for a beer?” he asks shyly, and at Tommy’s surprised expression and raised eyebrow he realizes it might sound like he’s inviting him for more than a beer, and he panics again. “I- I- I mean, just a beer. And maybe- maybe more of this.” he pecks Tommy’s lips again, not able to resist a smile. “But just a beer. I don’t think I’m- But who knows, maybe-” he stumbles over his words, because the truth is, he wants Tommy, he wants… he wants so much, he wants to experience so much for the first time – it’s just that he’s not sure if it’s not too quick for this relationship, and for him.

“Evan.” Tommy interrupts, bringing his other hand up, now cradling Buck’s face in both, thumbs moving soothingly along Buck’s cheeks. “Your pace, remember? No pressure, no rush.”

“You’re really cool, you know that?” Buck whispers.

“So I keep hearing.” Tommy chuckles, and it’s adorable. He kisses Buck again, and the butterflies in Buck’s stomach go crazy. Fuck, he doesn't remember the last time he felt this giddy and excited and just light. “I’d love to come in for a beer.”

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @tizniz @your-catfish-friend

#seven sentence sunday #no one look at me i gave in i'm officially boarding the bucktommy ship lmao (as in for now lol my heart will always belong to buddie ofc) #ngl i kinda hate like half of what i wrote so far and really wanna rewrite it but we'll see haha #also i still have mixed feelings about tommy calling buck evan but it's growing on me ngl #this is insane what is going on why is tommy/lou just taking over and changing my whole mind rn lmao #I just want buck to be all giddy and flustered and explore this and just be excited about it aahhh im obsessed lol #fic snippet #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips #911 fic #911 abc #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy post-date fic #idk how to tag this lol #btw the beer will lead to some heavy making out bc buck deserves to make out with a cute guy lol

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

~

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 

That’s not. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing. 

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table. 

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT #except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages! #ohhhh this was so cozy to write #i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk #its been too fluffy in here. #this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction #WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY #i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!! #this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing #my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on.... #but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3 #bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other #snippets from the bog #i will repeat what i have said multiple times before #i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character #i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have #but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam #and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3

[burnthatbridge]

yet another snippet for you since i have an active wip (even if i'm currently neglecting it...)

from the illicit affairs chapter 5 draft:

Frank nods, flips his pen over in his fingers. “And how are things with Marisol?” Eddie thinks for a moment. Things are… they’re– “Fine,” he says, then immediately winces. “Sorry, I know you hate that word. They’re great.” Frank lets out a breath that’s almost a sigh, allows his pen to rest against the notepad in his lap. “I only dislike that word if it is used as a mask,” he states. “If things are going great, i.e. very well, excellent, super, then I would prefer you say that.” He tilts his head at Eddie, considering, in that way Eddie knows means he’s seeing more than Eddie’s aware he’s displaying. “But if things are going okay, all right, not bad, then I would say fine is a fitting description.” “Okay,” Eddie says, “Then, yeah. Things are fine.” The very corner of Frank’s lips curl on the left side of his mouth. It’s a tick that took Eddie weeks and weeks of therapy to pick up on. One that, now he’s identified it, understood it, always makes Eddie feel like Frank is having a proud teacher moment, one where he gives Eddie a gold star and himself a firm pat on the back. It’s kind of endearing but it also makes Eddie want to roll his eyes and slouch in his chair, a moody teen reacting to praise with hostility.  “Do you want to elaborate on that?” Frank asks. And he is asking. If Eddie doesn’t want to, he will let him move the subject on. Maybe if Eddie had said things were going bad — or more likely still said fine but meant it as a cover for not good, poorly, awful — Frank would dig, but now he’s not going to.  “I mean, there isn’t much new to tell,” Eddie says, honest. “Nothing’s really changed since our last appointment.” Or the one before that, or the one before that, he thinks. And maybe that’s precisely why things aren’t any better than fine.  Frank lifts his pen, scratches something onto his notes. Eddie wonders if it’s the exact same thought he’s just had, almost wants to cross the room and peer over Frank’s shoulder at whatever he’s writing.  Once he’s written a short line, Frank flips the pen in his grip again. “And how is Buck?”

read chapters 1-4 on ao3

#i uh... have written one and a half scenes of the four i need for this chapter #please forgive me if i have to post it later than usual #canon bi buck kind of blew up my life #infidelity fic #buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 abc #911 fic #snippets

[gggoldfinch]

The Order of Death

Teaser Trailer...

The Order of Death Public Image Ltd. || I Saw Her Standing There The Beatles || Selbst, Fotovernähung, Annegret Soltau

#I’m so totally normal rn #literally half of the writing snippets are about tommy help 💀 kill that man fr #tua the swedes #goldfinch writes #something good fic #order of death fic #once again refusing to use fandom tags on this post because the actual fandom scares me and we have beef

[astrobei]

finally had time to write after the most hellish week ever (and bc i missed wip wednesday :/ ) so here is a snippet from fake dating fic that literally zero people asked for

#im sorry if ur sick of these snippets #i will Not stop posting them however bc i love attention #and also i missed wip wednesday this week #this fic is taking me forever to write but that is because all my classes went 0-100 in a week and a half. #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fic #atp i will end up posting the whole fic here before it's even done but whatever

[total-serene560]

Okay first draft of ch.3 is officially done

#what's on your mind fic #it's 2k words of half-scenes and just entire scenes of only dialogue but it's done and it exists #and it got me out of my writer's block #well okay I had to rework the outline a bit to get out of writer's block but hey #also the level of these guys being boyfriends without even dating is just insane #may post a snippet of the second draft lol #my writing ramblings #my posts

[waywardsalt]

uuuhhhhh wrote a segment of the ganonbeck thing on my phone (this whole thing isnt written on my phone i just have future scenes hashed out on phone) so i figured id share it for: giving a snippet of it bc why not, and to maybe get some feedback on writing ganondorf and the specific concept he talks about?

(this isnt indicatives of the whole fic just a scene delving into ganondorf’s personal conflicts and a little bit of worldbuilding or something. would appreciate some feedback or tips or whatever on this since im not sure if. i wrote this idea well. also hope its generally interesting/fun to read)

#salty talks #tbh tho i think this does kinda set up the dynamic between them and why ganondorf is drawn to linebeck maybe #linebeck is. hes funny in a good mood. he helps lighten ganondorfs mood and helps him disengage from serious stuff #he is also supportive of him fucking killing the king of hyrule. but hes mostly someone that helps ganondorf loosen up #ganondorf is this cunning wise man who holds lofty ambitions and is influenced by the history of his people and lets it motivate him #and linebeck is the image of the cat with the label ‘father i crave violence’ hes a lil ooc and chaotic but he thinks the hylian king sucks #this fic is mostly a lighthearted gay little thing where theyre both in lighter moods exploring the desert #but does have snippets like this about ganondorfs discontent with the hylian kingdom and linebeck struggling with his mental health #making it so it doesnt really exist in a vacuum and can feed into a possible future longer au fic idea #tbh been leaning into linebeck having a similar distaste for the hylian monarchy to ganondorf and carrying it into post ph #which fits in neatly with the headcanon that he is half gerudo so. pieces fitting together #this is mostly unedited btw so if it comes off as rough then yeah. its a first draft #topical with people talking more about the uncomfy way the zelda games approach imperialism n stuff #so i mostly worry about how i write about it here cuz its a concept im still new to and not sure how to really approach #if you saw the version with the images in the wrong order no you didnt #but seriously please let me know how i did writing what ganondorf talks about handling him is scary to me and i want to do good #ganonbeck #linebeck #ganondorf #they are tagged now rejoice

[theshippirate22]

what if i were to tell you I had a 17.5k word Steddie fic that’s the plot of All Too Well™️ but with a happy ending just. sitting in a document. ready to be dealt with.

#steddie #does anyone even want to read that 😂 #let me know if you do #the imposter syndrome is strong with this one #it’s pretty good if i do say so myself #it took like a month and a half to perfect #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #taylor swift #steve harrington is a swiftie truther #all too well (10 minute version) #all too well taylor's version #music #stranger things #robin buckley #i’ll even post a snippet if y’all really want it #steddie angst #steddie au #steddie fic

[altruistic-meme]

WIP FILE GAME

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

nobody tagged me in this but with the large influx of capri fics in my head i want to do it anyway :) for the sake of my sanity, im only naming the wips that I haven't started posting yet

Erik re-lives AU (young royals)

i see you, you see me (young royals)

Sunset Dreams and Sunrise Desires (young royals)

dare(d) to do it (young royals)

not supposed to know (young royals)

yr fic oops (young royals)

Go Low (all for the game)

laurent stabs damen (captive prince)

even under ashes (i've got glory) "a different brother falls at Marlas" inspired (captive prince)

Carpe Noctem (captive prince)

Time Travel AU (captive prince)

based on "monster" by ahawn mendes and justin beiber

"women be fantasizing about waltzing in an ancient castle under the starlight" fuck yeah i do (captive prince)

Disappearing :D (captive prince)

i also have no chance of tagging 14 people and also i need to go to sleep so i am going to leave this as an open tag <3 do it!! it's kinda fun just to see what wips you have!!!

#do send asks though i would love to talk about these #rip to (wit)jitp and fuck he said a pronoun but you aren't options today :( #but so many capri ideas and wips. more than half dfgdhg. #some of them are much more of an idea then a wip ig but i'm including them anyway #also some of these have names/possible names but unless it was in the name of the doc then i didn't count it #even under ashes name is so funny to me here bc i DO have both of these in it #i mean tbf though most of the capri wips are in one doc and just separated by their notes right now #only the 2 im actively working on have their own docs #also im pretty sure i posted go low on here but it's not on ao3 so im including it anyway #if you land on the right fics i will give you snippets AND info!! #and also feel free to ask specific questions ig <3 #(and by the right fics i mean the ones i actually have written ksdhfkhf) #ANYWHO #captive prince #aftg #young royals #shh ac

[wikiangela]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 💖💖

after waaay too long - the alive shannon fic is baaaack! my beloved <3 finally got through a scene I was stuck at (more or less, it'll get improved when I edit lol) and made quite a bit of progress! so here's a few sentences from the ladder truck bombing! (Buck's POV has been fighting me so hard, Eddie's is always easier bc he just takes over and does his thing, and Buck apparently doesn't wanna cooperate with me lol) this is very rough and needs lots of editing - but at least I'm finally making progress so here it is 🤣

prev snippet

___

It all happens so quickly he barely remembers the actual explosion. But he knows that there’s a split second, somewhere between sitting in the ladder truck, and lying on the ground, covered in blood, ears ringing, in excruciating pain and unable to move his leg – there’s a second between all that where he genuinely thinks he’s going to die. That’s it, the end, without so much as a chance to say goodbye to Maddie, to Bobby, to Hen and Chim, to- to Eddie and Christopher. To anyone he loves. For a second he’s convinced he’ll never get to talk to any of them again, that he won’t get to talk to Bobby, eat his delicious cooking during a family dinner, that he won’t get teased by Hen and Chim for something dumb he does for a hundredth time in a week. That he won’t get to see his sister heal and find happiness and love again, that he won’t get to see Chimney treating her like she deserves, like Buck knows he will. He’s scared he won’t get to hang out with Eddie, the best friend he’s ever had, that the short time they had together was all he’ll ever get. That he won’t get the privilege Eddie’s already granting him of watching Christopher grow up, of being there for him whenever he’d need him. A split second, and he thinks his life is ending, that’s it for Evan Buckley, leaving this world forever, not even leaving a mark behind, probably getting forgotten by everyone but his family, sooner or later even them. For a second he thinks, maybe it’s okay, maybe it’s better that it’s him than anyone else.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @pirrusstuff @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @steadfastsaturnsrings @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @honestlydarkprincess @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @disasterbuckdiaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @spotsandsocks @giddyupbuck @fortheloveofbuddie

#the alive shannon fic #seven sentence sunday #shannon diaz #buddie wip #buddie fic #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #took me like 2 months to get back on track with this fic lmao #left a half finished scene and multiple half finished paragraphs with so many notes and highlights #and it was painful to look at how disorganized it was 🤣 #shes back tho 😍 #ngl im never as nervous to post snippets as with this fic 🤣 and also never as excited haha

[jamietxrtt]

i read my old wip ideas and i’m like yes this ROCKS but i know i’m never ever going to finish them

#sometimes i wonder if i should just post my snippets as is #im so bad at finishing things but i have SOOOOOOOO many 500-1k word snippets of fics #just little half-finished scenes that i like but i will never give a coherent ending #should i do another wip game? that might give me an excuse to post some of them #tho are they really wips if you know you're never going to finish them

[yellowlaboratory]

Are you participating in Jiara bingo?? I miss your writing, you are the queen of writing Kie. PLTC was the only thing that got me through my post s2 hangover. I love that fic so much, like I will listen to songs and think about that fic. Most recently, 'Clean' by Taylor from Kie's pov about Sarah, and that lil epilogue scene, ugh so good. Anyway, went off track, love your work <3

YES and I am SO EXCITED!! i just got my bingo card this morning and I have so many ideas!! that, and the bts, has rendered me completely feral. shout out to @onlyhereforangst for putting this all together!! she deserves several bottles of wine akljdfhlksjdf

also you are FAR too kind!! I'm so glad you liked pltc (also pls, I might cry if you call me the queen of writing kie alksdfhlaskdjf). and clean is such a pltc kiarah song!! it's, like, THE song of chapter 20 of pltc. @yougivemebutterfliessss pointed it out when she first read it and I was like *oh my god yes*. if you want any more PLTC songs, I actually have a full PLTC playlist here. There's one song for each chapter, and although they aren't always directly related, I like to listen to it and reminisce. Sometimes the songs are based more on general vibes (or even just the song title) than anything else, but it all works out (and it's the easiest way to remember what happens in which chapter 💀)

#obx #jiara #jiara bingo #I already started 3 fics based on jiara bingo andklafjhskdfjhlaskdfj #I'll share my card if anyone is curious (and if that's allowed lmao) #the first of the fics I have planned will be posted soon-ish #(take that promise with a grain of salt lmao) #and!! it's actually mostly JJ's point of view askldfjhsakfj #change of pace #right? #also I can't believe the last time i posted for jiara was DECEMBER #what????? #I had to go back and check and it shocked me #look I know realistically that it has been that long but like #I write little snippets and half-finished fics for them constantly so I hadn't actually realized that it had been that long. #I'm in a phase of my life and hopefully bingo pulls me out of it #also also #some of the PLTC playlist songs aren't my favorite #but they are the best i could find to relate to that chapter #if anyone has any recommendations #i am all ears

[notebooknonbinary]

Moving day is tomorrow, which means a bitch (me) is about to have spotty internet for a few days (to about a week).

So in preemptive apology would anyone want me to post a dialogue scene from near the end of my fic? It’s not plot relevant so it won’t be spoiling anything and since the fic is only about half (2/3rds maybe?) done, dialogue is all I have for it. But it’s a (potentially?) funny little chat between Will and Dustin.

(Also if u don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, the fic in question is a sequel to This fic that I wrote about a month ago /shameless plug😌)

I hope you’re all doing well!!

#Vee asks a question #tbh this scene is one of the first bit of dialogue I wrote for ST #so I really want Someome to see it #*someone #in truth this trip is gonna take about two and a half weeks bc of all the stops but after the first week internet should improve #I’m hopeful that the internet-less time will help me to finish my fic but I’m also not crossing my fingers #but at the very least it will give me time to Rewatch stranger things so #i have absolutely No Clue how long this fic is bc again halfway done and it stands at 9k #but I refuse to post it until it’s finished I won’t make the same mistake I made for my last two chapters fics i wrote #shut up vee #vee attempts to write #also idk who is even awake bc Timezones #so even if this post doesn’t get much interaction I might still post the snippet #it’s pretty short so #long post #byler #bc it’s relevant

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by @junypr-camus to find a specific set of words in my WIPs. Thank you for the tag and the challenge! I found some of these in old fanfic WIPs I haven't paid enough attention to in awhile, and they were fun to revisit!

My Words: bold, chaos, silence, freeze, and spark.

These excerpts ended up being mostly fanfics from various fandoms (YoI, Sk8, DP, Given) with only one original (To Be Honest), so for those who want to skip reading them I'll put my tags and words here. I'm tagging @houndsofcorduff, @eternally-lame, @the-inkwell-variable, @starlightscribe, @crossroadcrow, and anyone else who wants to participate can use these words and say I tagged them!

Your Words: process, essential, effort, flat, and return.

I found bold(ness) in an old rough draft for a multi-chapter Yuri on Ice Soulmate AU fic titled "Worthy":

This is the moment Victor falls in love. He doesn't even register that hearing Yuri's voice means they're Soulmates until a little bit later. He falls for Yuri's boldness and passion. He falls for someone who wants to improve so much and feels so confident deep down, that he just assumes he can make it to a Pro's level if he has the right teacher. Victor falls for the man who grips him tight and says they'll sing together one day.

I found chaos in the rough draft of a Sk8 the Infinity CherryxJoe smut fic titled "Flipping a Switch", although the passage I found it in is just a little suggestive, rather than explicit:

Now, getting back to work seems more like an idle hope than an actual plan. Just a text. Just a few words, and his entire day is thrown into chaos. Like always. The suggestion of watching movies is new, but Kaoru knows this man well enough to read between the lines. A specific brand of vintage Parisian wine. Parler D'amour. Kojiro isn't asking him to taste test some alcohol or spend a casual night in front of the TV at all.

I found silence in an original work, one of my current novel WIPs, titled "To Be Honest":

He knows that Asher had transformed because of him. He remembers the sight of Asher's face and the sound of his bedroom window shattering whenever he's alone. The whip of David's scarf around his neck as he'd recklessly jumped out the window after Asher is still as clear to him as the day it had happened. He hears their footsteps in the dirt and asks himself why he hadn't moved even as they'd disappeared, running as fast as either of them could, vanishing into the forest until Micah had been left with nothing but silence and the horrible awareness of his own blood in his skull and limbs.

I found freeze in my current Danny Phantom fic "Lingering Scars":

Both intruders freeze once they notice him. He tilts his head to see if he can get a clearer angle now that they've stopped moving, puzzle together a picture that makes some kind of sense, but it doesn't work. It's still just Danielle standing firmly on his laundry pile to try and get the high ground, while Jazz digs her feet into the carpet for all the leverage it will give her. His clone who's basically a little sister and his biological older sister. The only family members who know the exact reason why he needs this specific time for sleep. Standing as still as if he'd actually pressed pause on a TV show. Staring at him in a mix of surprise and half-hearted remorse, with one of Danny's shirts stretched out almost comically between them.

I found spark(les) in my soon-to-be-rewritten Given fic "Present Tense" – the excerpt is a bit long, but it felt necessary:

As the rest of their fingers curl to cup the air, something starts to flow into the empty space. It's something he's never seen before. Not with his eyes, at least. The way it sparkles feels like a million things at once. Like stage lights. Guitar pegs. Effect pedals. Trees. Swings. Park benches. School gyms. Bicycles. The inside of Yuki's apartment. He almost forgets to breathe, but the flow of the glittering thing in their hands pulls his breath along as it shows him more and more things. Things like music. White noise made visual. Suddenly, he can see all the little pieces that go into the whole. The song materialized and liquified into something he's seen in his own chest before, at a time he can't remember because it spans so much of his own life. Colors. Shapes. Textures. Grains of sand on a beach. Golden and silver and blue and green and white and red and black. The colors of Yuki. The colors of Ritsuka. The colors of Mafuyu. The colors of a Gibson Hollow-Body guitar. He leans forward, his whole body falling toward the bottomless pool of things.

Friends and mutuals are encouraged to join in, but there's no pressure!

#writing #find the word #sonder stories #sonder snippets #the ratio of fanfic to original #it's sure to change as I keep writing #but still #it reminds me that I really do enjoy fanfiction #I've posted so little #for fear of having written these stories wrong #but I've still wanted to write them #enjoyed writing them #in a lot of ways #it's reassuring to see #also #bonus fact #half my motivation for writing the smut fic #Flipping a Switch #is to have trans rep in a smut story #starring characters I ship in that way #since I headcanon Kaoru as a trans guy

[milkovski]

ty as always for nice tags!!! very nice to read 🥺 on both art and writing!! 

#clutching them in my hands like a baby bird #tags on my writing are especially affecting just because i havent really posted writing in a long time #looking at my ff dot net account and some of the first art i ever posted online (basilmarket GSDSDF) #and like i guess i very strongly veered towards art instead of writing some time in the latter half of 2011 #(i think i started posting odd snippets on twitter in 2020 but) june 2011 was the last time i officially posted a chapter of fic online #naturally writing is kind of harder and posting it is more nerve racking #that said while writing these tags im like are you kidding me?? drawing is so hard GSDFSDF #anyways thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!! ☺