textfic
The last little while, Steff and I started trading little ficlets via text while she's away. They are random and short, and we enjoy them. Here are some of mine:
Turnbull hadn't stopped blushing like a stoplight since the call.
God only knew how a couple could carry on an argument still dressed like that, but it hadn't seemed to slow them down.
"Didn't know they made fishnets in that size," Chase said mostly to himself.
Turnbull turned redder.
"Didn't know you could do that with a--"
"No," came the rare and rushed interruption.
---
It was one of those long days of Thatcher breathing down his neck and overtime stretched on to cover understaffing. Turnbull walked home, hopes of seeing Ray for the evening too late to come to fruition. He was more than ready for bed, but instead found a Ray. Waiting for him.
Looking sheepish.
All right, so the... culinary creation in the garbage wasn't... the worst disaster ever known to man. But the smell was interesting. And permeating the room.
"Sorry, Ren. It was supposed to be a surprise."
Renfield offered back a smile, searching his cabinets for air freshener. "It was that, Ray."
---
This was fun. Wasn't a bad way to pass the time, when TV was boring and none of the other kids were out. The kid carefully crafted his spitball, crowning the straw with it, and trained the end on the Mountie guy, preparing to fire.
It would've been right on the bullseye, too, if some guy hadn't swiped it clean out of his hands.
"Hey!"
"Shut up, kid, before I hollow you out and use you for a straw." The lanky guy that screamed Italian crumpled his straw and pocketed it before making shooing motions at him. "What, you got nothin' better to do? I oughta duct tape you to the sidewalk and get all your little brat friends to play marbles upside your head. Get away from him! Go set something on fire or shoplift or something so you can come back and mug me in ten years! Brat."
---
The stray gave a grudging wag of its tail at Turnbull's careful pat. He wondered how anything with scars like that didn't snap at the touch.
--
(co-written with slwatson)
Longfellow had no idea why that particular "FUCK YOU" out of many before it got a funny look from Guy, but he figured if he kept on drinking, he'd forget to wonder.
Guy wondered if Longfellow remembered more than he should have, given that Guy was fairly sure he had actually hallucinated what happened between them.
Guy considered the LSD a long time the next night before opting for the safety of hard liquor.
Turnbull hadn't stopped blushing like a stoplight since the call.
God only knew how a couple could carry on an argument still dressed like that, but it hadn't seemed to slow them down.
"Didn't know they made fishnets in that size," Chase said mostly to himself.
Turnbull turned redder.
"Didn't know you could do that with a--"
"No," came the rare and rushed interruption.
---
It was one of those long days of Thatcher breathing down his neck and overtime stretched on to cover understaffing. Turnbull walked home, hopes of seeing Ray for the evening too late to come to fruition. He was more than ready for bed, but instead found a Ray. Waiting for him.
Looking sheepish.
All right, so the... culinary creation in the garbage wasn't... the worst disaster ever known to man. But the smell was interesting. And permeating the room.
"Sorry, Ren. It was supposed to be a surprise."
Renfield offered back a smile, searching his cabinets for air freshener. "It was that, Ray."
---
This was fun. Wasn't a bad way to pass the time, when TV was boring and none of the other kids were out. The kid carefully crafted his spitball, crowning the straw with it, and trained the end on the Mountie guy, preparing to fire.
It would've been right on the bullseye, too, if some guy hadn't swiped it clean out of his hands.
"Hey!"
"Shut up, kid, before I hollow you out and use you for a straw." The lanky guy that screamed Italian crumpled his straw and pocketed it before making shooing motions at him. "What, you got nothin' better to do? I oughta duct tape you to the sidewalk and get all your little brat friends to play marbles upside your head. Get away from him! Go set something on fire or shoplift or something so you can come back and mug me in ten years! Brat."
---
The stray gave a grudging wag of its tail at Turnbull's careful pat. He wondered how anything with scars like that didn't snap at the touch.
--
(co-written with slwatson)
Longfellow had no idea why that particular "FUCK YOU" out of many before it got a funny look from Guy, but he figured if he kept on drinking, he'd forget to wonder.
Guy wondered if Longfellow remembered more than he should have, given that Guy was fairly sure he had actually hallucinated what happened between them.
Guy considered the LSD a long time the next night before opting for the safety of hard liquor.