shifting to ilya’s pov in a fic where shane’s been going through it is so fun. it’s like here’s shane’s anxiety spiral, and now here’s ilya being sad he can’t kiss shane because they have a hockey game… also his dick is hard.

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shifting to ilya’s pov in a fic where shane’s been going through it is so fun. it’s like here’s shane’s anxiety spiral, and now here’s ilya being sad he can’t kiss shane because they have a hockey game… also his dick is hard.

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you’re writing heated rivalry fics without any hockey knowledge, i’m drawing out plays and doing the box score for my fic.
we are not the same.
excited to be a part of @missingsceneszine !!! here’s a little sneak peak at my wilson family focused fic 🥰
pre-orders are open now! so make sure you check it out
hi tumblr peeps, have a little snippet of a fic im working on that is slowly killing me
~~
Eddie can hear every single beat of his heart in his chest. Thump, thump, thump, as it picks up speed. His mind hasn’t heard the words yet, but his body knows what’s coming. “What is it?”Â
“Buck’s dead.”
No.
Chim has to be joking. This is like the time he told Karen Hen was dead to get them to get their shit together, right? It's like that. It has to be because there is no way that Buck is dead. That would be a cruel twist of fate that the world hands him. Buck is not dead.
"Chim," Eddie wants to call him out on whatever bullshit charade he's trying to pull to get Eddie to come back to LA, but doubt quickly creeps in. "Come on, man." He can feel the strain in his voice, his throat starting to swell.
"Eddie." Chimney says his name sternly.
No. Eddie knows that tone. It's the victim tone — the spouse tone. This isn't happening. It can't be happening.
"Buck is dead."
~~
writing is fun because i can be like oh let me write a little to deal with this thing going on in my life. then suddenly i have an outline, wrote over 2k words about eating lasagna, think the fic will be 20k, have 13.6k words in total, and there’s still at least 5 scenes left to write and 20k seems like it’s definitely not long enough

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actually weeping for little evan buckley as i put him through the horrors as a kid in my daniel buckley lives au. truly the saddest child i’ve ever seen. i just need to hold him in my hands and tell him everything is going to be alright
Writing Patterns
tagged by @rainbow-nerdss
rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!
Eddie wakes slowly. [nirvana]
Summers in Texas are oppressively hot. [in the heat of july]
“Aliens!” [the light grows darker down below]
The damp and discolored corner of the ceiling takes Eddie’s gaze. [when adam first came]
Over the years, Bobby began to trust Buck in the kitchen more and more. [(dis)illusion of me]
aita for cutting my hair like my bf’s dead wife so he can get closure? [dead woman walking]
Everything felt wrong. [put me back in it (i would do it again)]
“What’s this?” [buck up to bat]
If there truly was a god in the world, or even any kind of external force that pulled the threads of fate, Buck must have done something to anger them. [help, it's again]
It’s been five days. [no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to him)]
i really don't know if there's a pattern here. i guess i tend to start things in the action, but there's also a bit of just introspectiveness going on here
i hate tagging people, so go wild if you wish to do this <3
i love that i planned a big fight between buck and eddie in this fic, but when i actually wrote the scene they were too in love with each other to actually fight