They get closer after everything with Sinestro. Guy’s not dead and Kyle’s not Parallax. These are good things. Also, Kyle’s in love with Soranik Natu. Guy can’t quite put his finger on why he’s always kind of a dick to her–she’s saved his life more than once now and she’s just the kind of hardass soldier Guy loves best. Whatever. She’s probably going to eat Kyle alive, but Kyle always did love a challenge.
This week’s word is…
✨ ALIVE ✨
Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.
136 notes
·
View notes
Kyle laughs, full and loud, dimples coming out. “Dweebs rule the world, Gardner. Haven’t you seen Revenge of the Nerds?”
Guy sure has. It’s got a lotta tits in it. “Well the girls sure like you now, kiddo.”
Kyle shrugs, watching a pickoff attempt at first. “So says Mr. Cool. Mr. Football Jock, right? I bet you did okay.”
“What, you got a problem with jocks?”
"Didn't have much luck with them.” Kyle’s posture stiffens just a little, and Guy feels a little sick inside; he knows locker room trauma when he sees it.
“If it makes you feel better, in high school I was just a pizza-faced fullback with a C-average who didn’t know how to talk to girls yet. I just kinda grunted at them until they told me to fuck off.”
This week’s word is…
✨ SICK ✨
Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.
161 notes
·
View notes
Gary Neville is a REF
So inspired by this. Working on a WIP, another which may it see the light of day someday. An AU where Gary gets kicked out the the United youth academy and becomes a referee instead. Carra has his Liverpool career.
[[Absolutely inspired by this marvelous fic here as well, where both of them became refs instead of footballers, please give it love: PLAY THE WHISTLE by saltstreets ]] credit: @zevons
Snippet of my WIP here.....
-----------------------------------------------
“It’s a fuckin’ shambles, Gaz.”
Gary should’ve known better than to answer his phone. It’s a beautiful day for football. Which has fuck all to do with Gary. Gary’s on holiday. At home maybe, but it still counts. He’d even had a lie-in ‘til nearly half seven.
He doesn’t, won’t, can’t hold back a weary sigh, soul-deep. He’s got a headache already. Worse, he already knows he won’t say no in the end.
Still.
“I can’t fuckin’ do it, Stuart. I’m on holiday.”
“What, in fuckin’ Bury?”
“How d’you know I’m still in Bury? Maybe I’m in Ibiza!”
“Fuck you are, you boring cunt. You’ve probably been in the back garden, tellin’ the daisies which way to grow.”
“Fuck off.” They both laugh, it’s fucking true innit.
“Fuck me.” He can’t do it. He will do it.
“Already got me lad on the way, son. He’ll scoop you up, you’ll be on the pitch in thirty. Lovely day for it.”
“They’ll not go for it, Stu.” For fucking obvious reasons. “Raffa won’t, anyways.”
“Already had it out with ‘em, you mong, ‘course I have. Sir Alex and Raffa are well up for it. Talked you up, didn’t I? No one I’d trust to do the job right. Sterling lad, absolutely professional he is, our Gary Neville, no one else for it.”
“No one else stupid enough to take it on, you mean.”
“Right you are, son!”
Stuart laughs some more at Gary’s pain. It’s a thing they do. “It don’t hurt you’re a short taxi ride away, either.”
“This is mad, this is.” Gary shakes his head. “If the scousers even let me off the pitch in one piece, I’m gonna get absolutely killed by the fans, no matter the result. Both sides, probably.”
“Yeah. But you’ll be golden in my books, Nev, don’t you worry about that.”
Gary feels a bit sick. “This is me fucked, you understand that, right?”
“Listen,” Stuart actually sounds worryingly sincere. “I wouldn’t ask it if we didn’t need you, Gaz. Really. I know it’s unorthodox, but I’ve made everything absolutely crystal with the managers. The press is being made aware. It’s the wrong time of year for a re-play, innit. Everyone wants to play today. I’ll protect you, lad, I swear it. It’ll be alright.”
He can see it now: Ex-Academy Player Officiates Derby Match, Ripped to Pieces By Former Teammates and Blood-Thirsty Scousers Alike!!
Gary tries to grasp at anything to make the situation better in his mind. “It’ll be Keane and Gerrard to captain, I assume?”
There’s a suspicious pause. Stuart sounds mildly apologetic.
“Err, well. Gerrard’s out today, actually, knee’s acting up again. It’ll be Carragher in his place.”
Oh, well, fuck Gary Neville then. Just fuck him all day long.
“Oh, well, that’s more good news then, Stuart. The only moderately sane man in Liverpool is out on injury, in his stead an Actual Fucking Lunatic.” He is absolutely insane is Carragher. “Between him and Keane, it’s gonna be sunshine and fucking daisies. I can’t wait to be spoken to with nothing but dignity and respect for ninety minutes.”
Suddenly, Gary hears the desperate honks of a car horn idling impatiently just outside the kitchen window. Stuart must hear it over the phone, he sounds absolutely elated to ring off.
“That’ll be our Dave, then. Off you go, Gaz, that’s a good lad! Don’t forget your whistle, you’re gonna need it today, sure!”
Christ.
It’s gonna be a fuckin’ shambles.
28 notes
·
View notes