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Finished the epilogue 💪👏🙌
Next steps:
Break into chapters
Fix timeline issues
Final full read-through + line edits
Post chapter one
GET READY
Happy FFWF! What're you working on right now? Could you share a snippet??
Happy FFWF! We missed you Marko ♥️♥️♥️
OKAY so I'm working on my Not Spider-Man 4 fic that I've talked about here. The short of it is this is canon compliant through No Way Home (Tony dead, May dead, the blip blipped), Harley-centric gen fic (no romantic parkner this time), and Harley has been using the Iron Man armor he made to steal a la robin hood style in order to keep what's left of Rose Hill post-blip from dying out. Oh and he's trans 😏 for flavor.
Here's the latest! Tagging @myarmsaretoolong since you're interested :)
Below, Peter drops to a knee and rests his forehead on his forearm, back heaving as he catches his breath. Harley lands a few steps away and turns to ensure the area is clear and stays clear of any threats while he does.
"You alright?"
Peter sucks in a deep breath and lifts his head. He wipes blood and sweat from his forehead with his palm. "Been worse. You didn't find Evrett and Abbie? I sent them toward—"
"The railroad tracks," Harley says. "Yeah, I found them. Think you're up for a short flight?"
Peter looks at him then, surprise on his face. "Oh."
"Oh what? You'd rather run?"
"No, I just…" He takes in Harley like he's something new. Or unexpected. "I didn't think you'd come back once you had them."
It stings even though it shouldn't. He's given Peter no reason to think anything different. He had to have his arm twisted into every moment of heroism before, so why would this one be any different?
"The plan hasn't changed," he says eventually. "Two idiots in, four idiots out. I was short an idiot."
"Right." Peter pushes to his feet with a wince. "Care to fly this idiot out of here? I'm sick of this place."
"Miss your concrete jungle?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"Sure. Hang on tight. I'm told it's a miserable experience."
Peter steps atop his feet without being told and wraps his arms around Harley's middle. "I remember."
Have an excerpt from the fic I'm working on! It's Harley-centric and takes place some time after No Way Home. More importantly, it's fucking good.
That cinches it: Harley hates New York. It's fucking cold and rainy for no reason. There's no crops to grow. No hills to keep in healthy bloom to waylay erosion. No goddamn reason for it. And he's not dressed for it, no umbrella, just him and his heavy fucking suitcase trudging down street after street unsure of what to look for, but sure as shit he can't be seen flying around in his suit.
He hasn't forgotten the way Spider-Man watched him fly off and he's no fool.
Once he's wasted half an hour wandering and his arm is near ready to fall off from dragging his suit along behind him, he stops in at a homeless shelter. Half to get out of the rain, half because maybe Abbie and Jaimey needed somewhere to crash after driving all this way, and a tiny negligible, too small to measure bit because he might find a lead.
It's not until he's standing beside the plaque commemorating the deceased founder, talking to one of the staff, that Harley recalls F.E.A.S.T. is the non-profit he stole that donation from. He loses his train of thought, suddenly too cognizant of the suit sitting behind him leaking a puddle on grubby tile. He tries not to look around, to see the people he robbed.
Then he remembers what Chrissy said about the donation being from Stark Foundation and he breathes a little easier. Pepper would have insured it. Even if she didn't, she would send it again. Bigger and better, even. He didn't rob anyone in this building; he robbed a deceased hero's widow and child. Totally different.
The woman with the clipboard says, "They've been advertising it all day."
"Sorry, what?"
As soon as he says it, his brain back-fills what he missed while he was panicking. He asked about the search for the Iron Man impostor and she said it might be over soon, they're doing a live interview in about half an hour that's going to explain everything. The. Interview. The one Abbie and Jaimey came here for.
She's repeating herself when he asks, "Who has been?" He's had that stupid radio station playing since he left Rose Hill but it's been all top 40 pop and pandering to the office hour commuters.
The woman has an irritated slant to her mouth now. "The Daily Bugle. They put out the request for information."
"Where? Where's the interview?"
"Well…" She blinks, nonplussed. "Wherever you listen to podcasts, I guess."
He decides to google The Daily Bugle's office address and retreats with a hasty thanks.
Have I mentioned I HATE the way I outline??
Why do I always have to figure out the plan? Why can't past Sarah figure out the plan for once???
Writing Pride Tag Game
📝 Post a snippet you are extra proud of having written.
@mauannacreates thanks for tagging me! You've actually tagged me for this game twice and (to my shame) I'm only just now getting to them so I'm going to share TWO snippets I'm proud of and encourage my tagged list to do the same.
These are both from Not SM4: Bring it on Home:
ONE:
“What the hell, Evrett.”
Evrett jumps to the floor and tosses his slingshot onto the mattress. “Took your fuckin’ time, didn’t you?”
Harley closes the door and pulls over the desk chair to sit. “I had other shit on my list well before you put your little plan into motion. Couldn’t you have waited a couple days?”
Evrett sits on the edge of his bed and crosses his arms. “While everyone was hustlin’ ‘round getting ready for your big run was the perfect timing.”
“Obviously it coulda been better or you’d be gone.”
His glare intensifies. “You’re such a dick. I don’t get why everybody acts like you’re a fucking saint.”
“Cuz I know when to hold my tongue and mind my manners, dumbass. If you didn’t always tip your hand with your rotten attitude you could miles away from here by now.”
“D’you want me gone?” He seems offended somehow.
“I want you to shut up and ride out a couple more years without trying to fuck us over every time I turn my back.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to fuck nobody! All I want is a means to survive out—"
“You’re trying to take our means of survival to—"
“I only wanted a week’s food and one four-wheeler! You’ve got four.”
“We’ve only got four and if one breaks down, we’ve only got three. We use those for hunting, construction, maintaining pastures and fields, the orchard, and hauling—"
“God, whatever, I get it.”
“Do you?” Harley demands. “We’re constantly running the clock against depreciation and decay. We can’t go like this forever. It just ain’t gonna work. We need every resource we’ve got and then some. The last thing we need is someone inside fucking us over.”
“I’m not—" He growls and flops back to glare at the ceiling. “I hate you.”
“I don’t care.” Harley stands. “Keep your head down, quit pissing on everything we’re trying to build, and I’ll personally give you a lift to wherever you wanna go the second you’re old enough.”
Evrett continues to glare upward, grinding his teeth, seething in silence.
Harley opens the door, prepared to stop in and visit with Mamaw for a short while before he's off to the library to get the latest from Chrissy about their run tomorrow.
“Take me with you.”
Harley turns around. “I just said I would.”
Evrett is sitting up. “No, tomorrow. I wanna go on the run.”
“Fuck, no.”
Evrett leaps up, hands in fists. “You want me to integrate into the community, don’t you? So show me what we’re up against. Give me something to do.”
Harley stares at him. “Since when do you want to have to do anything?”
“I’m bored, man! There’s nothing going on in this place except your little organized crime ring. Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll learn whatever it is that you love about this place enough to sell your soul for it.”
Harley works his jaw. Part of him wants to say no just so he doesn’t have to deal with Evrett any more than strictly necessary. Another part wants to say no because he doesn’t trust him. And another part warns that he’s insubordinate, reckless, and he’ll jeopardize everything on a lark.
But there’s a kernel of hope flickering deep in the shadows of his heart. What if a little trust now, a little slack on the leash, solves the problem? He doesn’t want to spend the next two plus years wrangling this kid. They can’t keep him under lock and key, they can’t surveil him 24/7—it’s only a matter of time before he makes off with something vital and leaves them in the lurch.
TWO:
“Enough,” Harley snaps. It’s been a day. All he wants is to go home and rest his aching bones after over an hour holding himself taut and exact to keep from tumbling out of the sky. Instead, he has to deal with a jumped up punk that thinks he knows the world.
He jerks his chin at the park, a lawn of green that ends in trees that climb up, up, up, to the rounded top of one of Rose Hill’s mountains. “What is it you think you’ll do out there if we let you run how you want?”
“I’d be fine on my own. It’s not like anyone here’s lookin’ out for me.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“No one with my best interests. Y’all only want to trap me here so I can labor for you the rest of my life.”
“Better that than let the mountains have you.”
“I could make it,” [Evrett] insists. “If you’d let me have tools and supplies I’d—"
“Those mountains would spit you out like yesterday’s tobacco. You know why? Because you think you’re invincible. You don’t respect—"
“Oh but you can zip around in that armor like your fucking untouchable?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t knock over anyplace I don’t know for sure I can get away from without getting pinned, because I’m nowhere near the biggest player out there and superior numbers could still overwhelm me, armor be damned. That’s why it’s important that everyone sticks to the plan.”
Evrett laughs. “Bigger players? You mean the Avengers? Dude, open your eyes. They’re washed up. They’re done. We’re on our own. Nobody’s lookin’ out for—"
“I am!” Harley snarls. “You could be too if you’d get your head out of your ass! Actually, since you mentioned it, labor’s a great idea. Let’s see how a few months helping Ms. Olive run the laundry treats you.”
“What?! That’s fucking—"
“I can’t trust you on the runs, your poor Mamaw don’t know what else to do to keep you out of trouble, so laundry’s what’s left for you. Keep burnin’ bridges and you’ll end up on dish duty at the diner and grave diggin’ at the cemetery after that.”
“This is slavery! This is—"
“Oh grow up already!” He looks at Elmer with a touch of desperation. “Would you— Get him somewhere— Not here.”
He can tell by deep frown on Elmer’s face that he don’t agree with the way he handled any of this, and Harley’s sure when he gets his temper under control he’ll agree, but for now he needs Evrett well away from him lest he make this worse.
“You piece of fucking shi—"
“That’s enough outta you, I think,” Elmer says. “Ask me, you’re gettin’ off light.” He nods at Harley then ushers a snarling and stomping Evrett back to the Jeep.
Harley thanks the small gods that Evrett gets in rather than run off because today has spawned enough headaches, thanks.
He waits for the taillights to turn onto Main past the bank then drops his head in his hands and fights for control of his temper. He should have kept a cool head. He should be teaching Evrett, not sending him away to be someone else’s problem, but he sacrifices everything to keep this town alive: his time, sleep, his whole life is wrapped up in Rose Hill. He needed one thing from this run, one selfish thing to keep him sane, and thanks to Evrett, he didn’t get it.
Tagging: @myarmsaretoolong @wyxan @generictrashblog @writer-or-whatever @physalian @zerolostwalks and whoever else wants to play!
Guess who made words happen today!
Now let's see if I can get all 7½ pages typed up before bed
Get a Word + Share a Snippet Tag Game
Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!
Thanks for tagging me @zerolostwalks! My word was ALONE. Which is fucking perfect I gotta say. These are from Not SM4: Bring it on Home
A - “Aw c’mon, don’t turn me over to bumpkin Jesus.”
L - Later, he’ll wish he would have ponyed up and had the difficult conversation.
O - One less person to witness the cost of keeping Rose Hill afloat.
N - Now there's only Abbie and she's too pissed at him to even come out of her room.
E - Evrett is standing on his unmade bed, slingshot in hand, and glaring with all the animosity a teenage boy can muster—which, as Harley knows from experience, is a lot.
Tagging: @myarmsaretoolong @wyxan @generictrashblog @writer-or-whatever @physalian and whoever else wants to play!
Your word is: ESCAPE
First Line/Last Line
Rules: in a new post, show the first/last line of a WIP you wrote or drew, and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).
Thanks for tagging me @zerolostwalks! This is the first line of Not SM4: Bring it on Home (I'll title it eventually I prommie)
The whine of a trio of four-wheelers grows in a crescendo that competes with the katydids, crickets, and cicadas for air space until the machines round the crown of the hill, dirt clouding behind them and obscuring the fields of sun-gold wheat that dance on either side of the twin tracked path.
Oof hefty. Gonna need to break that down a bit. ANyway, here's the latest!
Jaimey is whole and hale and touting a brand new insulin pump Harley only kind of stole (there's not a chance in hell they're paying that hospital bill).
Tagging: @myarmsaretoolong @wyxan @generictrashblog @writer-or-whatever @zerolostwalks and whoever else wants to play!
