fav lines game
rules: share your favourite lines or paragraph you've written from one of your fics, posted or wip.
tagged by @lover-of-mine @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus
so ofc suddenly I'm forgetting everything I've ever written lol but here's some of the most recent ones idk
from I wanna breathe you in
“Both.” Buck nods, so confident and sure in this. “I want- I want my family, my friends to know that I’m- that I’m bi.” he says, a smile splitting his face. He’s taken a minute to label himself, but when he found this one, it felt right. Bisexual. That’s what he is, that’s what feels like him, like Buck, like Evan. Like all the parts of himself that felt scattered and chaotic and weren’t making any sense are finally settled in the right place, glued together by this realization, by this one simple word – bisexual. The only person who knows so far is Maddie, and he wants to tell everyone else, wants them all to know, and wants to share how happy he is. Besides, he thinks she’s going to explode if she keeps it from Chimney any longer – and once Chim knows, well, even with the best intentions, he sucks at keeping secrets. He doesn’t want Tommy to be his secret. “And I want them to know you’re my boyfriend.” he adds confidently.
from I'm comin' back, don't let me go
He feels like every single action, just getting up, getting dressed, pouring a glass of water, getting something to eat, just anything takes much more effort than it should, than it used to. Living takes much more effort than it used to. Sometimes he thinks maybe it’d be better if he-
He doesn’t want to die, not again, not really, but he can’t help thinking that he’d rather not be here. Not when he feels the way he feels. He doesn’t feel like himself, he’s just putting up a front, a Buck-shaped mask in front of people. He feels like a hollow, empty vessel. He just- he doesn’t want to be here.
from you can see it with the lights out (you are in love)
It’s sweet and soft, and it makes Buck’s stomach flutter even more, but at the same time it feels like everything is finally as it should be, like relief, like coming home after a long trip, like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a smoke-filled burning building. It feels familiar, like home, like they’ve been doing this forever, like maybe they’ve been in love through multiple lifetimes, always finding their way to each other. It’s a ridiculous thought, a little bit, that he knows Eddie would fondly roll his eyes at and tell him there’s no such thing as past lives or fate. Buck believes what he believes, though. He feels like he’s loved Eddie for an eternity, and he’ll love him for another one, or a hundred, or a thousand eternities, as long as the world keeps turning, and if there’s anything after that, then even longer. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.
also this from my most recent fic bc for some reason i just love this little moment haha - we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)
“I know.” Evan chuckles, his gaze settling on Tommy’s. “I just- I really want to.”
“Okay.” Tommy repeats, smiling, and waiting. It’s fine if Evan changes his mind, but this is his to initiate. Tommy will wait. He’d wait forever, is the thing, and it’s scary, with how short they know each other.
“Okay.” Evan echoes, and then he’s grabbing Tommy’s chin, similar to how Tommy grabbed his during their first kiss. His thumb nestles into his cleft, and Tommy sees a flash of an endeared smile before Evan’s lips are on his, fingers not letting him go.
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck
@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life
@diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway
@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks
@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @tommykinards
@honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33
@steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @tizniz @daffi-990
@fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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Ever since hearing about/watching the 2021 Awdry Christmas lecture, I’ve been thinking about how Awdry’s notes refer to Duke as both a “he” and “she.”
In my headcanon/AU, I imagine Duke hearing that typo. Maybe it’s in a monograph that’s going around. Maybe it’s still a YouTube video in that universe, streamed on a laptop for the SKR’s engines. Regardless of how, Duke blinks at being called a “she.”
The others ask if it bothers him. He tells the truth: no, it doesn’t. There’s no harm behind it. “It was simply an accident,” he says. Yet he feels a pang in his cylinders.
Soon, he realizes that he didn’t want it to be an accident.
All his life, Duke assumed that he was only a “he.” His builders and managers told him so. He did feel like a “he” a lot of the time, and he didn’t have the space or energy to probe any deeper on the MSR.
But he’s on the SR now. He knows nobody’ll kick up a fuss, trusts everyone here. So he asks them all to call him a “she” some days — on days when “he” doesn’t settle quite right.
And it feels wonderful. It’s the same joy she felt when Stuart and Falcon called her Granpuff for the first time. “I’m not one for sentimentalities,” she says one evening, “but I truly feel… fuller, in a sense.”
Later, Rheneas and Rusty suggest the idea of different lamp irons for Duke. On days when Duke’s a “he,” he can wear a lamp with a copper handle. On days when Duke’s a “she,” she can wear a lamp with a brass handle. Duke loves this, taking it up once the works have the lamps ready. It’s quick and efficient communication.
“For once, ye’re plain-speakin’,” Duncan says once he sees the lamps. But he’s smiling. Duke smiles back, chuckling at Rusty’s eye-roll.
The only real bit of angst Duke feels over this whole thing is her name. She wants to keep it because she’s very proud of it, but she worries that His Grace wouldn’t think it proper anymore. “I couldn’t bear it if he asked me to be ‘Duchess’ on those days,” he admits.
“He won’t do that,” Skarloey tells him. “And even if he asks, you don’t have to give him anything. This isn’t a train to pull, after all. It’s something entirely yours.”
“We’re with you, Granpuff,” Peter Sam says, soft and gentle.
Sir Handel sits up tall. “He’ll have to get through us.”
In the end, Sir Robert expresses happiness on Duke’s behalf. “A title is supposed to empower you. If you feel strengthened by it, emboldened by it, then I’d say it’s the right fit!”
Duke is grateful. (So are Sir Handel and Peter Sam, who shelve their plans of vengeance on Sir Robert for saying anything different.) And life goes on even brighter and richer than before.
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