Case (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
case) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomsecrets2019-01-10 06:36 pm
case) wrote in fandomsecrets2019-01-10 06:36 pm
[ SECRET POST #4389 ]
⌈ Secret Post #4389 ⌋
Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.
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Notes:
Secrets Left to Post: 01 pages, 09 secrets from Secret Submission Post #628.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.
Re: Writing Thread
It's so frustrating. I wanted to write so much while the WIP was being slooooooooowly finished, but I felt guilty if i didn't work on it....
And i had all these ideas and snippets of stuff....and now i'm sort of just floundering around. ARRGH.
Here's a snippit, if you like - a Bucky/Steve post-Avengers apocalypse AU that messes with timelines and such (the Winter Soldier made an appearance years earlier, etc.)
"Fuck," he spits, and the word is - that is - that's a good word, that's …. "Scheisse, ублюдок, diu nei lo mo!, he says, panting, feeling a weird sort of impending doom with each curse. But he can, he's allowed, he's a grown man, I can say what I want, damn it, don't be such a putz, Ssss…..
"Fakakta," he mutters, but the fall of the water is drowning him out. It’s drowning out everything, even the constant hum of the lights, the throb of the generator. The water is falling clear, now, strong and steady. He's standing naked in a - fucking - latrine, knife in one shaking hand, too - damn - scared to stick his head under the water.
No.
He moves, deliberately, under the spray. It's warm - warmer than his body, at least - and he swears he can feel each individual drop as it impacts his skin. His now-sodden pants and socks are lumped near the drain, and he pushes them away a little before tipping his head forward and then back, the water pushing his hair away from his face. It feels strange, to be barefoot. To be wet, all over. Strange to feel water coursing over his face-
He snaps his head down, gasping, but the latrine is still empty, the doorway a bright rectangle that shows the deserted corridor and nothing else. He stands there until he's soaked, until his hair is flat to his skull and the water is steaming, humid in his lungs, soothing.
The knife transferred to his metal hand, he crouches down, slowly, stealthily, and reaches for the soap. He snaps the lid open with his thumb after a moment's confusion and then stands up, fast, scanning the room. He’s breathing too hard and too fast; the heat and steam are dizzying.
He lifts the bottle overhead and squeezes; feels the cold, thick gel glop down onto his head, his shoulder, his back, running down. He keeps squeezing until the bottle is crushed, and then he lets it drop. It's squished flat in the middle, the bottom and top still holding some pale-green soap. It bubbles as it slowly reinflates.
He scrubs at his hair with his flesh hand, foam crackling in his fingers. Scrubs the strange, dead-numb edges of skin that disappear under the metal of his arm. Scrubs across his chest and down to his belly, to his thighs, then back up to his neck, his jaw, and chin. A cautious, fast swipe over his face and instantly he's blinking, blinking, his eyes tearing. It hurts.
He tips his head back, letting the water flow over his face, into his half-open eyes, blinking and blinking while his hand continues to scrub. The sting eases, and he jerks his head down. He watches water bounce off the metal of his arm, off the knife; watches foam cascade to the tile, swirling, running in thin lines down the sealed-shut plates of the arm.
He cups between his legs, rubbing; reaches back and then forward again. A little shivery frisson of sensation makes him dart looks wildly around the room, but it goes away, it's fine, he has to get...between his toes, behind his ears (grow potatoes back there, did you even use soap), until he's rubbed and scrubbed and sluiced everywhere. His skin is pinking, the water is so warm, and it's hypnotic, to stand there, as the water falls and falls, rumbling, hissing, numbing-
Re: Writing Thread
(Anonymous) 2019-01-11 12:39 am (UTC)(link)Yep, this is me after NaNo. I actually finished it and felt so proud of myself and had a million ideas and now I'm just back to my old slump!
I'm not in the fandom but I like your excerpt.
Re: Writing Thread
I really wish i could just get the *energy* back - i hate how my brain just won't *brain*.
*flails*
Thanks! :D
Re: Writing Thread
(Anonymous) 2019-01-11 12:50 am (UTC)(link)hope we both get over this soon!
Re: Writing Thread
My job isn't, in the sense that it's super-hard or super-busy, but i do stress over it, since i'm trying to do something I have no real clue how to do. So that's...unfun.
I hope we do, too!