I need something fannish because it's been too heavy around here lately.
I have 3 charity fics and 1 birthday (belated! Ugh!) to go and AM SO CLOSE TO FINISHING LIKE ALL OF THEM OMG. Having this on-hold portion of my life bites but I'm going to do eet anyway. Give myself a brain break and get back to writing proper.
Anyway, here's a snippet of one of my TW charity fics - this one is for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oxoniensis and is the furthest from finished hence the posting of the fic bit because it's going to take me a while. I have PLANS.
--
"So, I'm thinking of taking the GC exam."
Scott stumbles to a halt, catching Stiles by the elbow so he's nearly pulled over too. Stiles pulls a face at him, half-turning and taking the opportunity to lean over his knees and breathe for a while. He's always been told he's built for running, but his body just hasn't gotten the memo and he continues to struggle while Scott thumps along beside him, not even winded.
"No way, dude. Ground Crew? Everyone makes fun of Ground Crew. We make fun of Ground Crew. Greenburg is Ground Crew."
"I'm aware," Stiles sighs, standing upright again and pressing his fists into his lower back to try and push away some of the ache. "I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do. In a month I age out of Intake and I want to stay with the program."
"There's gotta be something else," Scott says, forever optimistic which is one of the things Stiles loves about him.
"I'm all ears," Stiles invites, and he waits, watching Scott shuffle mentally through options and discard them. Stiles knows the feeling, he's done the same brain dance himself. When Scott starts looking like he's going to break something concentrating so hard, Stiles claps him on the shoulder with a rueful grin. "It's fine, really. I'm sure I'll get used to Harris screaming at me and shovelling dragon shit. I'll be... contributing."
Stiles swallows hard, not wanting Scott to see just how disappointed he is but they've been friends for three months now and Scott is scarily astute when it comes to reading people. His face crumples a little and Scott fists a hand in the bottom of Stiles' shirt, tugging like a kid wanting attention from their parents.
"Maybe they could bend the rules, just this once," Scott says. "We were picked up late. We didn't get the three seasons to try like everyone else."
"Eighteen's the cut-off," Stiles sighs, plucking the bottom of his shirt out of Scott's grip so he can wipe over his sweaty face with it.
"But-"
"I checked already. In about a week I'm going to be given my marching orders unless I can find another slot."
Stiles and Scott had become fast friends when they'd both ended up at the DRP facility under pretty much the same circumstances. They'd both taken the PCR test when they were fifteen like everyone else, and had both had negative results. A mandatory college rescreen as part of the application process and a more sensitive protocol and it took four weeks for the guys to turn up on his doorstep.
Stiles had been like any other kid growing up in the era of dragons. He'd watched the cartoons, the news stories, had the lunch box. When his screening in freshman year at Beacon Hills High had come up negative, he'd been disappointed but unsurprised. His positive results were returned three years too late for it to be in any way convenient or cool, but Stiles had still been hanging on to the hope that in some, still to be discovered way, he was special and for just a moment, it had seemed like that was true.
Except he'd attended three hatchings and hadn't sparked with a single dragon, unlike Scott.
Scott eases his backpack off his back carefully and unzips it, digging Tharmika out of her dark hiding space. Scott has to keep in constant contact when Tharmika is this young and they'd found she hadn't minded being toted around at all in the bag at all, in fact went promptly to sleep whenever the backpack was involved. Scott proffers the small dragon to Stiles now, probably in an attempt to cheer him up.
Stiles kind of wants to cling to his morose mood, but he can't quite manage it when he's got Tharmika cuddled against his chest, rubbing her rough snout against the underside of his jaw. Stiles won't be able to touch her when she's full grown because of the Rider bond, but as a hatchling she's fair game for anyone that wants a snuggle and Stiles has been taking full advantage of it.
"Oh, I almost forgot! I totally taught her to fist-bump!" Scott says, eyes sparkling with excitement. He makes a clicking noise that gets Tharmika's attention and then holds his fist out to her. She uncurls one paw from where it's tangled against Stiles' belly and reaches out to tap her claws against Scott's fingers.
It's freaking adorable.
"Yeah, that's cute now, but it might be a different story when she's the size of a winnebago."
I have 3 charity fics and 1 birthday (belated! Ugh!) to go and AM SO CLOSE TO FINISHING LIKE ALL OF THEM OMG. Having this on-hold portion of my life bites but I'm going to do eet anyway. Give myself a brain break and get back to writing proper.
Anyway, here's a snippet of one of my TW charity fics - this one is for
oxoniensis and is the furthest from finished hence the posting of the fic bit because it's going to take me a while. I have PLANS.--
"So, I'm thinking of taking the GC exam."
Scott stumbles to a halt, catching Stiles by the elbow so he's nearly pulled over too. Stiles pulls a face at him, half-turning and taking the opportunity to lean over his knees and breathe for a while. He's always been told he's built for running, but his body just hasn't gotten the memo and he continues to struggle while Scott thumps along beside him, not even winded.
"No way, dude. Ground Crew? Everyone makes fun of Ground Crew. We make fun of Ground Crew. Greenburg is Ground Crew."
"I'm aware," Stiles sighs, standing upright again and pressing his fists into his lower back to try and push away some of the ache. "I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do. In a month I age out of Intake and I want to stay with the program."
"There's gotta be something else," Scott says, forever optimistic which is one of the things Stiles loves about him.
"I'm all ears," Stiles invites, and he waits, watching Scott shuffle mentally through options and discard them. Stiles knows the feeling, he's done the same brain dance himself. When Scott starts looking like he's going to break something concentrating so hard, Stiles claps him on the shoulder with a rueful grin. "It's fine, really. I'm sure I'll get used to Harris screaming at me and shovelling dragon shit. I'll be... contributing."
Stiles swallows hard, not wanting Scott to see just how disappointed he is but they've been friends for three months now and Scott is scarily astute when it comes to reading people. His face crumples a little and Scott fists a hand in the bottom of Stiles' shirt, tugging like a kid wanting attention from their parents.
"Maybe they could bend the rules, just this once," Scott says. "We were picked up late. We didn't get the three seasons to try like everyone else."
"Eighteen's the cut-off," Stiles sighs, plucking the bottom of his shirt out of Scott's grip so he can wipe over his sweaty face with it.
"But-"
"I checked already. In about a week I'm going to be given my marching orders unless I can find another slot."
Stiles and Scott had become fast friends when they'd both ended up at the DRP facility under pretty much the same circumstances. They'd both taken the PCR test when they were fifteen like everyone else, and had both had negative results. A mandatory college rescreen as part of the application process and a more sensitive protocol and it took four weeks for the guys to turn up on his doorstep.
Stiles had been like any other kid growing up in the era of dragons. He'd watched the cartoons, the news stories, had the lunch box. When his screening in freshman year at Beacon Hills High had come up negative, he'd been disappointed but unsurprised. His positive results were returned three years too late for it to be in any way convenient or cool, but Stiles had still been hanging on to the hope that in some, still to be discovered way, he was special and for just a moment, it had seemed like that was true.
Except he'd attended three hatchings and hadn't sparked with a single dragon, unlike Scott.
Scott eases his backpack off his back carefully and unzips it, digging Tharmika out of her dark hiding space. Scott has to keep in constant contact when Tharmika is this young and they'd found she hadn't minded being toted around at all in the bag at all, in fact went promptly to sleep whenever the backpack was involved. Scott proffers the small dragon to Stiles now, probably in an attempt to cheer him up.
Stiles kind of wants to cling to his morose mood, but he can't quite manage it when he's got Tharmika cuddled against his chest, rubbing her rough snout against the underside of his jaw. Stiles won't be able to touch her when she's full grown because of the Rider bond, but as a hatchling she's fair game for anyone that wants a snuggle and Stiles has been taking full advantage of it.
"Oh, I almost forgot! I totally taught her to fist-bump!" Scott says, eyes sparkling with excitement. He makes a clicking noise that gets Tharmika's attention and then holds his fist out to her. She uncurls one paw from where it's tangled against Stiles' belly and reaches out to tap her claws against Scott's fingers.
It's freaking adorable.
"Yeah, that's cute now, but it might be a different story when she's the size of a winnebago."
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(I know this is far from finished, but should I let you know about a wee typo?)
From:
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