#fragment friday

[upennmanuscripts]

Many - most - manuscripts survive only in fragments. Here we have three adjacent fragments from a large antiphonary leaf. Text on both sides is from Psalm 138 and one side also includes musical notation. Written in a large Gothic hand with red and blue initials. Because the style of liturgical manuscripts didn't change much through the mid to late middle ages, we can't say any date more exact than between 1300 and 1599.

🔗:

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Fragment Friday!

My sweet friend @romirola tagged me in a fragment chain! Here’s a few paragraphs from the first chapter of my Redacted firefighter AU!! (Which I promise will be posted soon!!) this is from Freelancer’s POV who has recently dropped out of Med school and become an EMT. Enjoy!!

—

Station 10-19 was nice, very nice. A huge locker room, individual shower stalls, full sized beds with pressed white sheets. The kitchen had two ovens, a huge fridge, and the biggest pantry you’d ever seen. The firehouses you’d visited while getting certified were much smaller, much less impressive. All of this must have cost a fortune.

“Shaw’s a master of budget balancing,” Vincent had told you that afternoon during your tour. “I swear, the dude spends hours sitting in his office crunching numbers. It’s honestly a little worrying.”

You’d met David Shaw in your interview, but Sam Collins was your direct report. Shaw was a big dude, but after meeting a few of the other firefighters, you just started considering yourself scrawny. The whole firehouse was full of mutant giants.

Everybody was nice, but Vincent acted like he’d just gained a new best friend when he’d introduced himself that afternoon. He was a tall, slender man with bright gray eyes and a sharp smile. You recognized his last name, Solaire. His dad was the chief of surgery at Daliah General, the only level one trauma center in the area. It was your top pick for your residency.

Solaire wasn’t a common name, but if Vincent was the son of a two time Harper-Avery winner, he didn’t show it. He moved with a cool confidence, and seemed to have that same confidence in you. He spoke to you like you knew what you were doing. Which, to be fair, you did. You just weren’t used to people treating you like it.

“Don’t let Sam’s grumpy attitude fool you,” Vincent grinned as he led you towards the ambulance. “He’s a softy. A bit rough around the edges, but soft for sure.”

You couldn’t imagine Sam Collins being soft, but you smiled and nodded anyway. Vincent showed you where everything was on the bus, and then reiterated the few things that you would likely actually use. The compression machine, the heart monitor, the AMBU bag.

When the first code blared in your ears just as Vincent finished shoving everything back into their assigned cubbies. He grinned and patted you on the back, jumping up to the front and hopping on the radio as he revved the bus’s engine.

Sam made his appearance a few seconds later, hopping into the bus and pointing you towards one of the two passenger seats in the back, strapping himself in. He nodded for you to do the same.

It was quiet for a long time. Vincent called a few things into the radio before shouting back to Sam.

“Single vic, third story apartment. Not sure the extent of the injuries. Landlord just found a blood trail.”

“Let’s prep for a GSW and a laceration.” Sam replied. He grabbed for a few things within reach and threw them into his jump bag. “BleedStop’s over your head, Probie, grab me a few.” He held out his hand. It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. You jerked and reached up blindly, coming back with a few red and white packages.

“Are these standard issue?” You asked softly, flipping one over in your hand. You heard Vincent laughing from up front. Sam grinned.

“You were in medical school?” Sam asked after a few minutes. You nodded. “Internal medicine, peds…”

“Surgical.” You answered his unasked question. You ducked your head, looked away. Sam was quiet for a long moment.

“I was four years into my residency when I called it quits.” He said. When you looked up, he was focused on the computer output, a pinch in his brow. You didn’t dare ask a question, break his concentration, but something in your chest eased.

[cyanbugremix]

✨️Fragment Friday (Saturday)✨️

Tagged by the amazing @romirola!

Here is a little sneakpeek for my fic Welcome to the Pack, Darlin'. Open tag for anyone else that wants join in :)

(For extra context: Darlin' got in a fight)

~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey! Back off, Joseph– I will get the principal out here,” Milo threatened.

Joseph’s face darkened and he used his newly gained height to his advantage, towering over Milo.

“They started it!” He growled back. “They’re lucky I didn’t shift!”

“Joseph,” Asher coldly said, sidling up next to Milo, and resting a hand on Joseph’s shoulder to keep the two apart.

Darlin’ caught their breath and looked up from their spot on the ground. Backpacks had been discarded at some point. They rested a hand across their torso and inched further away. They observed the stand-off, and realized that Asher was almost as tall as Joseph. When had that happened?

“I think the buses are leaving. Don’t want to miss the only way home, right dude?”

Joseph wiped blood from underneath his nose and glanced over at the parking lot. The flow of kids getting on had trickled down to a few still hopping on. He angrily grabbed his backpack and glared at the group before rushing towards his own bus.

Asher huffed out a sigh as soon as Joseph was out of earshot. “Man, what a dick. . . Hey you okay?”

Milo had crouched down next to them and was fully examining their face. Darlin’ looked at the ground, embarrassed at the close proximity.

“Obviously not! Maybe we should take them to my ma,” Milo hastily observed Darlin’. “Their face is swelling.”

“No- shit- It’s fine,” Darlin’ uncomfortably smiled through a beginning ache. “I need to get on the bus.”

They shakily got up from their spot, Milo rising with them. One of them offered their backpack to them, but just as they grabbed it they heard the shriek of the bus doors closing and the whines of the buses leaving the parking lot.

Their eyes widened, as far as they could, and their stomach dropped watching the buses leave. A small wave of nausea, from their injuries and new predicament, made them sit back down in the grass.

Their parents were going to be so pissed.

Darlin’s breath quickened.

They had to make dinner tonight and their daily chores needed to be completed. Sure their parents wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, but what if they didn’t get home soon enough? That would just add to their scolding once they saw Darlin’s face busted up and how they weren’t a perfect kid, and how they worked so hard to give Darlin’ a good life– and that this was the second time within a month that this happened! But the first wasn’t even their fault– and fucking OW! Everything hurts and it’s going to suck doing chores like this–

A gentle hand on their shoulder broke them out of their thoughts. “Dude, c’mon. We don’t have basketball practice tonight, so I’m getting a ride home with Milo. I’m sure Marie would be totally cool with you tagging along as well and able to drop you off at your place.”

“Will she drop me off at my house immediately?” Darlin’ frowned.

“Uhm,” Asher paused and looked at Milo, before shrugging. “We’ll have to ask, won’t we?”

~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for the tag!! 💖

[lizzie-bennetdarcy]

Fragment Friday

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

Tagged by @mallpretzles thank you love 🥰

Some of these are definitely... closer to fruition than others 😅

"Well, I know my husband will appreciate it." Her eyes widen and drop to his ring finger, and she turns bright red. He saves them both any further interaction by giving a little wave, and then turning on his heel and striding out the door.

"Trust me, I'm still trying to convince myself this is real. He's so hot, Rach. Like 'so far out of my league we're not even playing the same sport', hot.

Patrick has no idea what that means, but he laughs anyway. He can't help it, the man is enthralling. "While that does sound like an absolutely criminal offense, I was actually plotting the best way to get him to let me take the piano for a spin."

"Ah, yeah," Patrick does that thing where he rubs the back of his neck when he's nervous. "I kinda had a crush on David. I didn't realize it was a crush at the time? But, yeah. Big time."

Marcy is at the grocery store when her phone starts buzzing in her purse. She checks the caller ID, and answers immediately when she sees who it is.

Tagging @hippolotamus @wordthieve @legalgal421 @alysiswriting @mostlyinthemorning

[pers-books]

So, I discovered Taylor Swift’s song ‘Begin Again’ as a result of The Piano Guys (which is how I’ve been discovering a bit of pop music lately - either they mash it up with something classical, or they just do a piano+cello instrumental version. In this case they’ve done the latter and also a version featuring Megan Nicole and Alex Goot. (Both on their album The Piano Guys 2.)

Anyway, after listening to it multiple times, it sparked an idea for a Berena fic (loosely inspired by some of the lyrics) and it just hit 7k words (though it’s not finished yet).

So here’s a few hundred words for Fragment Friday (which is not a thing except when it is!):

Serena can’t help smiling as she sees Bernie across the café getting to her feet as Serena walks towards her. She has a rather old-fashioned, gentlemanly habit of doing such things, like pulling out Serena’s chair once she reaches their table and helping her into it. It makes Serena feel taken care of, in a way she never did with her ex, Robbie. 

“What can I get you?” Bernie asks. “Besides your usual ‘medicinal’ pain au chocolat.” She smirks a bit at that, it remains their little inside joke, after Serena had once said she needed such a thing when they’d gone out to dinner the night before to a lovely little Italian restaurant with an extensive wine list. 

She rolls her eyes at Bernie, then asks for a macchiato. 

“Late night?” Bernie asks sympathetically. 

Serena nods. “I’ll tell you later.” 

“Okay. Back in a few minutes.” Bernie strides across to the counter and joins the mercifully short queue. They’ve worked out that this is the best time to come to the café to meet up as it’s in the lull between the workers coming in to caffeinate before they head off to start their days and the lunchtime rush. 

Serena can’t help watching Bernie: she’s got legs that go on for days, a slim, athletic figure, and is one of the most caring and compassionate people she’s ever met. She’s also gay and Serena’s beginning to accept that she’s got a crush on the trauma surgeon, despite never having been more than friends with a woman before. 

They had met in this café about six weeks ago, Serena had been enjoying doing some shopping on her day off when the heavens had opened and she’d slipped into The Hideout, amused by the name, and found herself in the queue behind Bernie Wolfe. The woman’s figure had caught her attention first of all, then her astonishing laugh in response to something the young woman at the till had said to her. Bernie had turned around a little too quickly in search of somewhere to sit, bumping into Serena and knocking one of her shopping bags to the floor. She’d blushed pink along her cheekbones, apologised in a flustered fashion, then got down on her hands and knees to pick up the spilled contents of Serena’s shopping bag, before handing it over with a less flustered apology. Serena had been instantly charmed by Bernie’s manner, accepted the apology, then suggested that the two of them sit together. Now they meet up once or twice a week, depending on their shift patterns and scheduled days off, since Bernie works in the ED over at St Mark’s hospital.

[filet-o-feelings]

Fragment Friday

Thanks for tagging me @mallpretzles 💛

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

There was something about David keeping Patrick tethered to this plane. Something beyond the deal they had made.

Because of his catastrophizing brain; he’d imagined the worst that could happen, and they’d ended up here all because of David and his stupid negative thoughts.

Patrick slid into the booth and immediately started chatting with Ted about sports while Alexis sighed at having her boyfriend’s attention taken away from her.

“That doesn’t feel like a community offer,” Stevie whispers, leaning a bit closer to Ruth.

“Ugh.” David groans, rolling out of bed. “I hate you.” "You love me. You hate mornings."

tagging: @hippolotamus @rosebrewerj @treluna4 @wordthieve @celeritas2997

[carolrain]

Fragment Friday

Thanks for tagging me, @mostlyinthemorning

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

—

Okay, I dug deep into my notes for these, and I’m not sure what’ll become anything. Also, they are too long, but if this is all you're getting, here, have the complete paragraphs:

I

It will be okay in the end. If it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end. David hoped that meant, like, they’d be able to sort things out by the end of the week. Or month, maybe. Not that, like, Earth would be okay once the humans died out and moths the size of dinner plates and skyscraper ferns took over again.

II

When the others stopped for a moment to get their water bottles, Patrick had bolted for the hammock. He thought everyone would want to be there, and they’d end up fighting over it and flipping it, all of them landing in a pile of limbs and bruises. Instead, he found himself swaying alone for a moment, then suddenly joined by the birthday girl, pawing at his side impatiently until he picked her up and lay her facedown on his front. He remembered her laughter, her hot breath on his neck, her ponytail making his face itch, her sweaty back that he didn’t want to touch, but he had to so she wouldn’t slide right off of him and on to the ground. 

III

“I don’t think I have any opinions on menopause, Mom.”

“Come on, David, you have opinions on everything.”

“What’s there to have an opinion on? It exists. Like climate change, or rabies. It’s not controversial."

IV

One of the best things about being a mother to a daughter is that you can talk to her about anything. That’s what Jocelyn had told Moira, anyway. Jocelyn herself didn’t have a daughter, but she taught a lot of daughters at her school and she knew their mothers. Also, Jocelyn watched a lot of Lifetime because it empowered women. Moira had been a daughter to a mother once, for a few decades even, but she didn’t remember them sharing a lot of secrets.

V

She and David had gotten off to a rough start. He was born early, unexpectedly, before they’d bought a crib or picked out a name. Johnny had inked in the “David” on the birth certificate form and then left it by her bed. She was still groggy and unsure, even though he was a couple of days old. They had taken David to the NICU and then, a day later, to another hospital with a better NICU. Moira was left behind waiting for her blood pressure to go down, oscillating between two middle names. Her first acts of parenting, she thought, if she let herself think about it, were acts of failure. She failed to keep him safe inside her, she was not in attendance when he was packed up for the ambulance and driven off, and she forgot about the blank line on the paperwork. Johnny was the one who sat by David’s incubator and watched him breathe, encouraging him with stories and pets on his patchy dark hair. Moira thought of him as Johnny’s child, not really her own yet.

—

That last one is more just my head canon than Moira's voice. <shrug>

—

Tagging @mammameesh @rosebrewerj and @jamilas-pen

[hippolotamus]

Fragment Friday

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

Tagged by @apothecarose and @lizzie-bennetdarcy Thank You, loves 💙

Only five fragments? Does this game know how many WIPs I have lurking around???

Patrick almost doesn't hear David when he finally asks, “Why did you do that?”

“You mean hit Andy?”

David nods as if to ask 'shouldn’t it be obvious?'

*****

“Hi.” David greets him softly, with a touch of nerves, similar to the morning after their first kiss. Nearly the same and yet completely different. The reserved salutation isn’t the coy variety from the first boy Patrick kissed, rather the tentative kind from the man he inflicted heartbreak on.

*****

Agent Brewer was supposed to be a personal conquest, a challenge. There was no room for a next time. David took one look at the cocky sonofabitch and wanted to take him apart, ruin him. Just once. The flaw in his plan, the critical piece he chose to ignore, is that things so rarely go the way David wants.

*****

I never wished to revisit these moments, nor transcribe them. However, it is at Lucy’s insistence that I am reluctantly doing so. She seems to have this notion that it will help quell the ache, and perhaps ease the nightmares. Both the result of losing my beloved, the other half of my heart and soul. 

It is of little consequence to you as the reader, I suppose, but I still feel it necessary to explain the arrangement Lucy and I have agreed upon. The conditions we choose to live with because of the circumstances we could not.

*****

“I mean, I guess it depends on the person.” Buck fidgets with the cuffs on his hoodie, adding more quietly, “I thought it was romantic actually.”

Eddie can sort of understand that, but it’s still an image of two skeletons. How could it be perceived as anything other than mildly grotesque?

It's now technically Saturday but WTH... tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @blackandwhiteandrose @vanillahigh00 @alysiswriting

[stereopticons]

Fragment Friday

Tagged by @hippolotamus and @celeritas2997 ! It’s no longer Friday and I’m in bed but I can’t sleep so here we are.

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

1) Patrick is sixteen years old the first time he kisses Rachel. Or really, the first time she kisses him. They’re at an end of the summer bonfire, just days before the start of Grade 11. They spent the summer as they have for years, attached at the hip, but something’s been different.

2) “I have to tell you something,” she finally says. Stevie certainly isn’t known for her cheerful demeanor, but there’s something in her tone that concerns Twyla.

“Okay,” Twyla replies slowly. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

Twyla sets a mug of coffee on the counter in front of Stevie, who takes it and gratefully wraps her hands around it.

“I got a text from David,” Stevie says after a while.

3) Maybe it was the town sign, declaring Schitt’s Creek as the place “Where everyone fits in!” which was encouraging. (It also declared, “Don’t worry, it’s his sister!” which was…concerning.) Maybe it was the fact that he had no plans when he got to Toronto, which terrified him, so when Ray offered him a job twenty minutes after meeting him, he couldn’t see a reason to say no.

4) “Oh, um, hi. Rebecca, right?” David says, twisting at his rings. Patrick catches his hand and takes it in his own, all too familiar with David’s anxious tell.

“So weird, right? It’s been what, five years?” Rebecca responds eagerly. “I didn’t know you were still living in the city.”

5) Stevie groans and collapses back onto her bed. This is impossible. This is why she spent so long avoiding being in an actual relationship. There’s just so much pressure. And she loves Ruth, which is new for her, and only makes this whole thing worse.

She allows herself exactly five minutes of panic and staring at the ceiling before she sits up and considers her options.

If you want to share your fragments, please consider this your tag!

[upennmanuscripts]

Today's #FragmentFriday is LJS 438. The book is a collection of translations of Greek works in the traditions of Plato and Pythagoras, ca. 1475; parchment pastedowns are fragments from a large 14th-century theological manuscript.

Online:

[mostlyinthemorning]

Fragment Friday

Thanks to @lizzie-bennetdarcy for the tag!

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

Will any of these ever see the light of day? Unclear.

I.

“It’s no problem.” Patrick claps him on the shoulder in that way that straight guys, or maybe just guys who’ve gone to business school, like to do. In David’s imagination, Patrick’s hand lingers longer than is strictly necessary. “I’ll let Ray know you’re coming for dinner.”

“Um, okay? I didn’t know you and Ray were close.” Does Patrick have a relationship with Ray that David doesn’t know about? The thought pinches somewhere near his heart, a sharp, unexpected pain that’s inappropriate when thinking about one’s business partner.

II.

“Of course.” The man grins at David, he has no right having a smile as nice as he does, especially some 400 years before the advent of modern dentistry. “I mean—I wasn’t born here, obviously, but this is my home. For now.” The man gives him a cheeky grin. “But you’re not from here, are you?”

“I—” Talking to the locals is definitely against the rules. Telling them that he’s from a 21st century country that doesn’t exist yet is playing with fire. “Not as such.”

III.

The movie is nearly over when David’s head drops onto Patrick’s shoulder. Trying to keep perfectly still, he tilts his head, but there’s no way to tell if David is asleep or if this is his subtle way of making a move. Not that anything about David screams subtlety. Beneath the soundtrack of the movie, a tiny snore whispers in his ear. David is asleep. 

IV.

David is so pretty. But not soft. There’s an edge to him that only makes him more beautiful.

David smiles at him, dimple popping. “Well, thank you.”

Oh. Oh, damn. He’s said that out loud. Clumsily, he lifts his hand to David’s face, touching the tips of his fingers to one sharp cheekbone. David sucks in a breath, frozen as Patrick presses his palm to his cheek. 

V.

David had pressed the key into Patrick’s hand yesterday, his face twisting as he mumbled something about ‘early mornings’ and ‘Patrick not needing to wait on the stoop like a lost puppy.’ David held back the other words that Patrick was pretty sure he wanted to say like ‘I’m trusting you’ and ‘this store is really important to me, so don’t fuck this up.’ So the key is heavy in his hand, carrying the weight of David’s trust.

Tagging @missgeevious @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 @weathereyehorizon @blackandwhiteandrose @carolrain

Blaze

[cricketnationrise]

Fragment Friday (actually on a friday!)

So @indomitable-love tagged me last week and I was insanely busy and then @cha-melodius tagged me this week and I am less busy so here we go! The first three are from active wips, and the last two are eventually going to get worked on, so get pumped to see some of these relatively soon!

i'm tagging @weneedtotalkaboutfic @parvuls @the-lincyclopedia @clottedcreamfudge and @everwitch-magiks because i'm nosy 💜

RWRB Mummy AU:

“Face it old bean, if we don’t find someone in the next ten minutes, I’m going back to the hotel. There was an angel masquerading as a bartender and I’ll be damned if I miss my shot because you were skulking around looking for a guide to Hamunaptra.”

“Would you keep your voice down? We don’t need everyone in the nearest square kilometer to know what we’re up to.”

“Absolutely not. My voice is the perfect volume for every situation!” Pez booms, ignoring the dirty looks of the market vendors he had drowned out. 

“I’m deadly serious, Percy,”

“—oooh, full name—”

“—we need to find a guide to the City of the Dead, today, or this whole expedition—”

“You’re looking for the City of the Dead? Why on earth would you want a guide to a fucking myth?”

2. OMGCP March/April snowed in prompt:

She reads the email canceling classes and makes the decision to ignore her inbox for the day, and goes back to sleep for another hour.

Well, she tries to.

“APRIL WE HAVE A SNOW DAY APRIL SNOW DAY!” March’s yells are loud enough to wake the dead, not to mention the rest of the volleyball house. Giving up on the extra sleep, April heaves herself out of bed and yanks the door open.

“Oh good you’re up!” chirps March. “Get dressed, I have a whole plan for us today.”

“It couldn’t have waited an hour?”

March just grins. “Absolutely not, I’ve been planning this since the season ended.”

3. RWRB sentient brownstone AU:

It’s a very odd sensation, having half of It’s occupants not present half the time. Sometimes it’s like part of The Brownstone is missing – original flooring pulled up during a renovation. Sometimes it’s like part of It is numb – a nursery closed up before witnessing new life.

When Alex is here, The Brownstone feels like It’s foundations have just been poured, like the bricks just got repointed, like a fresh coat of paint in every room. Henry and Alex fill It’s rooms with laughter and kisses and piano music and Mexican aromas and sex and comfortable bickering and celebrations and comfort and books and just – love.

But inevitably, Alex has to leave and It and Henry are left alone again. When Alex is gone, The Brownstone feels every one of It’s one hundred and fifty-two years pressing down. His absence feels like warped floorboards, like crumbling grout, like peeling wallpaper.

4. Tortall/Emelan Kel/Daja Tattoo AU:

As she pushed open the door, Kel was greeted by a welcome rush of cool air and soft tones from a wind chime just inside the door frame. The lobby was vastly different from what she had expected from a tattoo parlor. It had honey-colored wood floors, seating covered with cozy looking blankets, a huge tapestry of a thunderstorm behind the counter, and plants on every available surface. The counter itself was a piece of art: at least two different kinds of metal that had been painstakingly worked and twisted to look like the roots of a giant tree, and a dark walnut wood top, polish gleaming under the lights. In any other space it would dominate the room, but somehow everything seemed in harmony. Kel instantly felt at home, lingering nerves about getting a tattoo leaving her as she moved further into the space. 

“Hi there! Welcome to Winding Circle Tattoos, how can I help you?” asked the blonde girl behind the counter. 

“I’ve got a consult with Daja Kisubo? I’m Keladry Mindelan.”

5. OMGCP offseason 🍑 🍆 series zimbits (Explicit):

“Crisse, Bits,” Jack pants, “I think I’m dead now.”

Bitty giggles helplessly and hides his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. “That would be a shame, sweetheart, we haven’t even started on your wish list yet.”

Jack groans and Bitty can feel Jack’s dick twitch in interest, still inside him. “If I hadn’t just come, that would have done it.”

Bitty snickers and carefully lifts himself off Jack’s cock, cringing a bit at the empty feeling. He grabs a few wipes from the nightstand and starts cleaning both of them up. He knows he’s the one who brought it up, but Bitty’s definitely going to need something to do with his hands to get through this conversation.

“Lord knows you gave me that list and I sort of just pounced on you once I got to the end, but we should probably have a real conversation about it.”

“And you picked now?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“Well, I guess we can at least shower and get dressed before gettin’ into the gritty details of the highly kinky off-season sex you want to have.”

“That’s the least you can do.”

[nights-at-crystarium]

✧✦✧ "Fragments" - episode 50 ✧✦✧

Frank.

New reader? episode list on tumblr | webtoon Read 4 more episodes: patreon | kofi

[pers-books]

Since I just hit 15k words in my Taylor Swift-inspired Berena fic, here’s another Fragment Friday:

Bernie turns up at Serena’s a little before 10.30pm on New Year’s Eve, to her not so secret delight. 

“Hello you,” she says fondly, daring to kiss Bernie’s cheek. 

“Hi,” Bernie says, eyes bright. “I can’t believe I got away on time.” 

Serena chuckles. “Neither can I, but I’m so glad that you did.” 

“Me too.” Bernie steps across the threshold, then says, “You look very nice.” 

“Thank you.” Serena can’t help doing a little spin, just to show off her dress, which she bought specially for this evening, despite not even knowing if Bernie would be able to make it. 

“Gorgeous,” Bernie breathes, then ducks her head, almost as if she hadn’t intended to say that. She sets down the kitbag she’s carried in from her car, then proceeds to remove her hat, gloves, and scarf, slipping them into her coat pockets, before taking off her coat and boots. 

“Oh,” Serena breathes, taking in Bernie’s attire: she’s wearing formal tailored trousers, with a mid blue button down shirt with sterling silver Caduceus cufflinks in the sleeves, and a navy blue tailored waistcoat. 

“Nice cufflinks,” Serena manages. 

Bernie gives her a half smile. “Christmas present from Cam,” she says. “I thought they’d make a change from the RAMC ones I usually wear.” 

“I like them.” I like you, she thinks, but doesn’t quite dare to say aloud. “You’re looking very dapper.” 

“Thanks.”

This is quite the slow burn fic!

[rainbow-neko-artblog]

My friend @ShaeTheMenace asked me if i wanted to make the Bf for their AU, Fragmented Memories, and i said "say less" and gave them a living booger.

He changes form when it's important, anime style poof.

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @housewifebuck @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @forthewolves 💖💖💖

here's a little more of the possessive fic, I'm so close to finishing this fic fr, I don't wanna make promises but it might be by the end of this week 👀

prev snippet

___

They’re both silent for a while, as they try to get their breathing under control, Buck’s hands gently caressing Eddie’s back, and, honestly, Eddie could just fall asleep right here, right now. He has to fight himself against it, to not trap Buck on this hard floor. He looks up, leaning his chin against Buck’s chest, and smiles softly, watching Buck’s blissed out face. Then, suddenly, Buck gasps, his eyes widening, and Eddie hears a quiet and horrified:

“Oh god.” his eyes meet Eddie’s. “I can never have your kid sit at this counter again. Or step into this kitchen, actually.” he says, sounding genuinely worried, and a chuckle bubbles out of Eddie.

“Our kid.” he corrects, and sees that awed expression come back on Buck’s face, and his lips shift into a sheepish smile. “And you won’t have to when you move in with us.” he adds without thinking, and Buck’s eyes widen. “I mean, eventually. Whenever we’re ready- I mean, as far as I’m concerned, it can be tomorrow, but- you know, up to you.” he stumbles over his own words, not wanting to go too far too fast, and, shit, he thinks his brain’s not fully functioning yet.

“Yeah. I- yeah.” Buck nods, smile widening, almost blinding. “But we can talk about it later. After we get some sleep.” his hand runs through Eddie’s hair.

“Mhm.” Eddie’s eyelids feel heavy. “I think you’ll have to carry me to bed, though, I can’t move.” he teases, and Buck laughs.

“Of course, baby. Anything you want.” he pauses, just looking at Eddie. “Holy fuck, you’re unbelievable, you know? I imagined a lot, but I never expected… all this.” he shakes his head with a soft smile. “I love you.”

___

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