Tag: Cleaving

Just wanted to say thank you for posting the whole of that huge chapter, rather than splitting it. I really needed that dose of warm fuzzies today. It was literally the best present. <333 ~Loves-pie

You’re very welcome, my dear!  It really is one chapter…I just allowed the length to get away from me because I wanted their perfect day to be really full, and indulged myself if every single thing I love about Pittsburgh.  But in the end, even though it means I only have 500 words of the next chapter and you all probably have a long wait again, I felt it needed to all be posted at once.  Without the end, it just feels like “and they did stuff.”

Bleary readers, I was wondering…

I’m working on what is probably the last chapter of Cleaving, which is probably the last time we see the Bleary boys except in a brief epilogue.  I don’t have plans for another fic (though to be fair, I didn’t have plans for Cleaving when I finished Bleary).

I’m trying to wrap up all my hopes for them in this chapter and the epilogue, and tie up anything that I’ve left dangling in previous fics.  I know what I want for them, and what I think needs to be tied up, but it got me thinking of what you all might want for them.  Mind you, I’m not asking for major plot points…those are laid out.  But details—especially things that tie back to the earlier fiics— do you have ideas?  I can’t promise I’ll incorporate them, but you might think of something I’ve forgotten or not focused on, and if I can, I’ll throw it in.

Ideas?

Also, do we know Zach’s favorite poets?

Few Words Wednesday

On this darkest of Wednesdays, let there be fluff:

They headed across campus to where the Kresge Theater stood among some older buildings.  

“It’s mostly used for music performances now, but during the construction it was shared with the School of Drama, and pretty much all of the Scotch ‘n’ Soda Club productions were done here, too,” Zach explained.  The stage was smaller than the new Purnell center, but the theater was beautiful in its way, with wood-paneled walls and curved rows of seats.  And was the site of many firsts for Zach, including, he explained, what he considered to be his first really good kiss.  He took Chris backstage, behind the white velvet curtain that hid the dark, narrow space that was the scene of that memory, only to have Chris crowd him and kiss him senseless.  And that was fine, though after a moment he realized that he would never be able to think of the first memory without appending this one.  And that was probably Chris’ intent.

“I didn’t say the best kiss,” Zach managed to whisper with a laugh as Chris took a breath.  “Just my first good one.”

Chris’ mouth descended on him again, much to his amusement.  The kiss ended a moment later, before things got inappropriately heated.

“Just wanted to make sure,” Chris said with a final nip. 

“Like there’s any doubt,” Zach said, steering Chris back toward the wings.  

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

He sat in one of the benches at the end of the room, thumbing through the book and occasionally using his phone to take pictures of Chris taking pictures.  Because really, he loved the way Chris threw himself into photography.  The way he craned his neck to look for different angles, crouching or stretching to frame the composition the way he wanted.  He made his way across the floor slowly, doubling back once when he missed an ornately carved chair that looked almost like a throne.  Finally, he reached Zach and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I love this place,” he whispered, cognizant of the students working nearby.  

Zach rose and took his hand.  “There’s one more thing I want to show you before we move on to CMU.  Come over here.”  He led Chris to the edge of a large semi-circular alcove.  “Now stand right here, facing this way, and listen.”

Confusion was clear on Chris face as Zach backed away, moving across to the opposite wall.  He kept watching Chris as leaned toward the wall and whispered Chris’ name.  Chris startled.

“What’s happening?” was the whisper that came back to him.  He grinned across the room to Chris, signalling he’d heard him.

“It’s a whisper room,” Zach answered.  “For telling secrets from a distance.”

Chris smiled.  “I love you,” he whispered back.

“That’s not a secret.”

Chris looked down for a second, chuckling, then answered,  “Well, not to you.”