(no subject)
Hello, internet. I seem to have forgotten how to fandom. Apparently I haven't posted in a month? I also haven't been...fandoming at all, lately. I try to check DW/LJ every other day, and tumblr once or twice a week, but I'm just not feeling it right now. Work is pretty good, but it's draining, and I'm obscenely busy with the Gay Geeks in my downtime, and the combination leaves very little energy left over for fandom. I miss it. Or I guess I miss wanting to participate in it. The MCU fandom's response to Age of Ultron really soured me, and since that was my primary fandom, I've kind of disconnected entirely. I've had writer's block for months and I can't even muster up any vidding mojo lately, so 2015 has been kind of a dead year for me fannishly. Oh, well, this too shall pass.
azewewish tagged me in a WIP meme, though, so here we go: Pull seven lines from the seventh page of your WIP, then you're supposed to tag seven other writers.
The only WIP I have that's longer than 7 pages is of course the shitty Steve/Bucky fic of perpetual unfinishedness, so here you go. I'm fudging a little, since halfway through page 7 is a scene break, so I'll do the 7 lines leading up to it:
Steve slumps down into the chair. The shield drops to the floor at his side with a faint clang. He props his head up in his hands and stares at the video feed of Bucky's room. After a few long minutes, he feels a hand on his shoulder.
"Have you called Sam?" Natasha asks him in a low tone. "You should call Sam."
He shakes his head slowly, not taking his eyes off Bucky. "I'm not gonna bother him at this hour."
"I'm calling Sam," she says firmly. "You are staying put until he gets here, and then he is going to explain to you in terms you can understand why it's a really terrible idea for you to go charging in on Barnes right now. In the meantime…" She pauses, then slides a pad of paper and a pen across the desk to him. "We have a guard stationed down on his level. If you'd like to write him a note, I can ask him to leave it somewhere Barnes will see it when he wakes up."
Steve stares at the pad in front of him. What could he possibly write? His mind feels as blank as the paper. "I just want him to know I'm here, if he -- just that I'm here. Could you just…" A thought occurs, and he reaches down to grip his shield. "Can you put this in the room with him?"
Bucky had saved the shield from the Potomac himself, unprompted. He'd carried it with him for a month before their paths crossed again, and he'd been holding it tightly when Steve found him mid-breakdown. The shield obviously meant something to him. It's a better message than any words Steve could possibly write down.
Natasha hesitates, then accepts the shield from him. He doesn't think she's ever actually held it before. "Okay," she says. "I can do that."
Tagging anyone who has a WIP they'd like to share with the class.
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth. Comment wherever you'd like.
azewewish tagged me in a WIP meme, though, so here we go: Pull seven lines from the seventh page of your WIP, then you're supposed to tag seven other writers.
The only WIP I have that's longer than 7 pages is of course the shitty Steve/Bucky fic of perpetual unfinishedness, so here you go. I'm fudging a little, since halfway through page 7 is a scene break, so I'll do the 7 lines leading up to it:
Steve slumps down into the chair. The shield drops to the floor at his side with a faint clang. He props his head up in his hands and stares at the video feed of Bucky's room. After a few long minutes, he feels a hand on his shoulder.
"Have you called Sam?" Natasha asks him in a low tone. "You should call Sam."
He shakes his head slowly, not taking his eyes off Bucky. "I'm not gonna bother him at this hour."
"I'm calling Sam," she says firmly. "You are staying put until he gets here, and then he is going to explain to you in terms you can understand why it's a really terrible idea for you to go charging in on Barnes right now. In the meantime…" She pauses, then slides a pad of paper and a pen across the desk to him. "We have a guard stationed down on his level. If you'd like to write him a note, I can ask him to leave it somewhere Barnes will see it when he wakes up."
Steve stares at the pad in front of him. What could he possibly write? His mind feels as blank as the paper. "I just want him to know I'm here, if he -- just that I'm here. Could you just…" A thought occurs, and he reaches down to grip his shield. "Can you put this in the room with him?"
Bucky had saved the shield from the Potomac himself, unprompted. He'd carried it with him for a month before their paths crossed again, and he'd been holding it tightly when Steve found him mid-breakdown. The shield obviously meant something to him. It's a better message than any words Steve could possibly write down.
Natasha hesitates, then accepts the shield from him. He doesn't think she's ever actually held it before. "Okay," she says. "I can do that."
Tagging anyone who has a WIP they'd like to share with the class.
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth. Comment wherever you'd like.