chamber by chamber

But you know, it's more than six sentences

From a texting fic I've been working on :))

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Simon: My mind wasn’t really on her which is just so rude, and I tried to make jokes that all landed flat. She didn’t even order dessert, that’s how much she was looking forward to leaving

Simon: So now I’m home alone. On a sunday night, after a first date that definitely won’t lead to a second one

Simon: Maybe I’m unlovable

Baz: Are you trying to be funny or are you genuinely bummed by this? I need to know in order to match your mood with my answer

Simon: Lol only you would ask that, I love it

Simon: I am in fact being a little silly

Baz: I'm sure you're cute enough for the right person to get past your terrible jokes. All the unfunny men I’ve met had good looks as devastating as their sense of humour

Simon: Haha, haha, haha

Simon: That’s rich coming from you. You don’t even try to make jokes

Baz: I don’t need to. I’m naturally funny

Simon: Sure you are, babes. Whatever you say

It's not at all what I should be writing at the moment, but this scene from my 80s fic just wouldn't get out of my head. So here's a bit of that

(and it's going to be much more than six sentences because I hate that rule and also the scene I wrote is an argument and arguments are just too fun for me to cut too much of this one)

The scene is between Baz and my OC Thomas

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Baz

“I have a job," he says, as though that answered anything." A good job, that I like and that I want to keep doing.”

“So…?”

“So the answer is no. I can give you legal advice in private all you want but I’m not… That’s the most I can do,” Thomas says, and I have a sinking feeling that he’s got that same look in his eyes at his good job when he’s facing another attorney. 

But I won’t play that game with him. That’s what he wants, because he knows he’ll win a negotiation. He has years and years of practice finding turns and phrases to make himself sound undeniably right and twisting people’s words until he gets the last one. 

I push myself away from the counter and walk to the table. I lean on it, my eyes now on the same level as his. We’re close enough that I can see the ring of brown in them. “You’re not… what? Finish that thought.”

“Baz,” he answers, rolling his head back with a sigh. “Don’t be difficult. I said no. Conversation’s over.”

The bastard reaches inside his jacket for his pack of cigarettes. I snatch it from his hand. He tries to take it back, but I slam my hand against the table, crushing the small box and its content.

He glares at me. I glare right back. What right has he got to be pissed right now?

“No it’s not. I want you to be honest and say what you fucking mean.”

“I’m not publicly defending a bunch of hysteric gays. Is that what you want to hear?”

I walk a few steps back, slowly, as I scoff. I rub my hand over my mouth, staring at the crushed cigarettes on the table. At the straight grain of the wood and at the tiled floor of the kitchen.

“You’re a coward, Thomas. A coward, and a goddamn traitor" I murmur. The shock in my voice sounds like another, familiar voice telling me I told you so. "I can’t fucking look at you.” 

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Good Omens: God killing people and replacing them with shiny new people is wrong, those people should instead be saved no matter what (the Job story from season 2)

From a texting fic I’ve started working on :)

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Simon: Ok so I have to come clean and admit to you that I was completely stoned when I answered your texts

Simon: But my offer still stands, stranger in my phone

Baz: What was the purpose of picking a fake name if you are going to refer to me as the stranger in your phone?

Simon: Eh, the name could come in handy later

Simon: You replied, I take it you’re still okay to text?

Baz: Sure

Baz: Friendly piece of advice: you should not admit to doing drugs to a stranger in your phone

Baz: I might be a cop

Simon: Ooh, we’re getting friendly already? ;)

Simon: Are you a cop?

Baz: I might be!

I started writing a new little something because I need a project on the side when I'm procrastinating writing my dissertation, but I need that project not to be too big that I do not get any uni writing done. So. I thought a texting fic would be perfect! And if you're read some of my work, you know I love those aha

This is from the beginning of the story. The person texting is Baz:

*Call sent to voicemail. ‘Hello, this is Harry. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Please leave a message!’*

…

Harry

Thu 21 Aug at 11:22 PM

I’ve been looking at flats. I don’t even really want to move but people seem to think it’d be better for me. What would I do in a place that doesn’t have your fairies on the walls?

I’m never getting the deposit back with your bullshit. Good job, Henry

Mon 25 Aug at 1:05 PM

Mordelia’s boyfriend is taking her on a little trip before uni starts. It’s so sweet. My father looked like he was going to be sick when they drove away

I wish I could drive away