Bea Evans
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bea-evans.bsky.social
Bea Evans
@bea-evans.bsky.social
46 followers 27 following 200 posts
Writer stumbling into self-publishing.
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bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Brain

More from my 3rd world fantasy.

Drip’s been stressed and has a bad dream. It’s different than his usual bad dreams.
White text on a black background reads: But the dream he found most disturbing, the one he felt he couldn’t escape until he was panting after shouting himself awake, was about his magic. He had no magic, rather. Something was trying to get him. He couldn’t see it in the dream. But it was there and he knew that if it found him, caught him, that he would die. He’d tried to pull up a blessing to cover himself and there was nothing. No stirring behind his heart, no tug in his gut as he tried again and again. He muttered quiet words to concentrate his thoughts, but still nothing happened. Except the thing closed in on him. The horrible thing. Thinking if a blessing would not come, maybe a curse would, Drip racked his brains for the worst, most powerful curse he could remember. Just as the thing was about to reach him, he hurled the curse from his lips, but nothing happened. Again his magic failed to rise. The thing was about to reach him when one of Gal’s hounds shot past him into the dark, snarling and snapping at the thing. He screamed because he knew the animal was no match for the thing. It would die because Drip couldn’t find his magic. The scream woke him up. Beside him, the hound Gal had sent to lay next to him crawled up onto his chest and whined in his face. Its nose pushed into his chin. Drip worked a hand out from his cloak and pet the animal, whispered reassurances he wished someone was giving him. “Just a dream. We’re safe.”
January 16, 2026 at 7:35 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Reflex

Didn't have refelx so I went with "instinct" instead. Third world fantasy.

Gal's people are semi-nomadic. Their herding dogs have started producing a blind pup in most liters. Most of them are killed. Gal takes them, when he can, to train.
Black text over a picture of a dog with a long, skinny face. The text reads: Leni lifted two sacks that wriggled. He handed them to Gallif. When he opened one, two heads popped out. “Babies?” Drip asked. He untied the other sack and two more noses shoved through the opening. “They’re weaned,” Leni said. “The two Drip have are a little older. These were the only blind ones still alive at the Gathering.” “Thank you,” Gallif said. He hadn’t had a chance to look for them himself. He whistled for his hounds. They trotted over from the edge of the tent to inspect the pups. Gallif let them out of the sacks. With whines and yips, they swarmed the adults. A few nips soon had them in order. “Gives the grown hounds something to herd.” “Besides me,” Drip said, making the crowd chuckle. They didn’t know how true that was, but they knew the instincts of a hound without a flock.
January 13, 2026 at 6:40 PM
Reposted by Bea Evans
londonpriceauthor.bsky.social
My kid made a napkin and a pillow on my sewing machine today and my wish for you is that you experience even a tenth of the joy she felt at making a thing to her own specifications for the first time. ❤️

Go make something badly. It'll still be fun. 🧶🧵
January 11, 2026 at 1:56 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Fifth

This one I've been calling "Little Birdie". It's... I don't know what it is. Contemporary fiction. Queerplatonic maybe eventually? Definitely about friendships, anyway. Here, Helen is showing Robin, a young art restorer she's befriended, her art collection.
Black text in front of an abstract painting as described in the text, which reads: She pointed to the paintings, telling Robin about the artists. “Do you have a favorite?” Robin asked when Helen finished telling her about each painting. Helen blew out a breath. “Well. That’s a tough question. I feel like you’re asking me to pick which friend I like the most.” “People have best friends.” “True.” Helen considered her response for a moment before she pointed to a small painting. “I’ve always loved this one. My husband gave it to me for our twenty-fifth anniversary.” Robin examined the painting. It was abstract but the colors reminded her of fire. Or maybe lava. Dark reds and oranges with lighter yellows and whites that looked incandescent. “I thought the traditional present for twenty five years was silver.” “Yes,” Helen said. “But that was a very hard year for us. We lost our youngest, our son Matthew, to cancer. Our marriage… Frank and I… it was very difficult. We barely made it through together. He gave me this to symbolize that our silver was tested by fire.” “That’s beautiful,” Robin whispered. “Though, modern refining processes use…” Helen laughed and lay her hand on Robin’s arm to cut her off. “It’s a symbol, dear.”
January 10, 2026 at 3:08 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Lock

From a short historical MM romance. Dormont is a widower exploring attractions he'd ignored during his marriage. Philip is only too willing to help him.
In the background, a fancy suit with vest and cravat. In the foreground, text reads: Dormont stepped through the door, his eyes roaming until he found Philip. “Oh,” he said. Philip thought he sounded disappointed. “Is something the matter?” he asked. Dormont shook his head, then dropped his eyes to the floor. “Please tell me.” Dormont shook his head again, but murmured, “I’d hoped to help you undress.” “I could do up my knot, if you wished,” Philip replied with a bit of humor in his voice. He was teasing, but Dormont nodded, still not looking at him. Was this part of the man’s fantasy? He’d wanted to be the one to free Philip from his clothing last night. Philip tied a careful knot. Nothing too complicated as the linen was not crisp enough to hold shape, but not merely a hasty knot as a sop to the man’s request. “There. I believe I am repaired.” Dormont slowly raised his eyes to Philip. His face was red, but his eyes flashed when he observed Philip’s attire. Philip watched him carefully and saw him sway towards him. “Please lock the door,” Philip said. Dormont did not turn, just reached behind him, fumbling with the lock until it clicked audibly. “Now come here.”
January 7, 2026 at 7:24 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Low

Uhh, so there's a couple of NSFW options but I went with a sweet one from towards the end of this --still unnamed. ugh-- dual couple historical MM romance.
Black text on a background of a peach chrysanthemum. The text reads: “We have time,” Jonah said. “Don’t we?” “All we need. I only want you to know there are options,” Theo said. “You won’t lose me, if you want more.” Jonah pulled back and examined Theo’s face. Theo wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “You won’t lose me, either, Theo,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “As long as you want me, I will be here.” Theo swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. He nodded once.
January 6, 2026 at 7:48 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Calm

I like this word. I like the scenes where it appears. Staying in the same world as last time.

Drip and Gal wake in his sister's tent.
White text over a darkened picture of prairie grass and a blue sky. The text reads: The next time Drip woke, he was plastered against Gal and the cool of the morning was gone. He held still, feeling Gal’s chest rise and fall with his even breaths. He wondered how long he might be able to stay like this. He was too warm. He could feel a slick of sweat between them. But he felt safe, calm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up and felt no rush of worry or fear. He knew nothing bad had happened to him while he slept because Gal wouldn’t allow it. He felt a rumble before he heard Gal speak. His hand skimmed over Drip’s head, his fingers massaging his scalp. “You’re awake now.” “No,” Drip answered. He turned his face into the muscle on Gal’s chest. “Hmm,” was Gal’s response. He continued to caress the back of Drip’s head. “I have a lazy husband, I think.” “Not lazy,” Drip murmured. “I don’t care for mornings.”
January 3, 2026 at 6:34 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - End

I think writers generally like the words “The End” but I’m not there yet with this one. Instead, a middle.

Drip tried to steal from Gal and ran away. Gal caught up and confronted him, but things went sideways when Drip reveals his secret.
White text over a darkened photo of prairie grass and a blue sky. The text reads: The boy was still sitting on the ground, cowering from the hound. Gallif whistled it off, releasing them all to go hunt their supper as he approached the boy. Gallif thought removing the perceived threat would have relaxed the boy, but he curled himself up tighter, rolling onto his side as Gallif stood over him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Please, don’t.” Gallif reached down to try to pull him upright and the boy attacked. Or Gallif assumed he was trying to attack. His flailing arms hit Gallif’s forearms as the boy came out of his ball. His legs tried to kick out, but Gallif was on him in a moment, had him flipped onto his stomach and pinned in a breath. The boy was so small, it was no contest. “No-no-no-no,” the boy ground out. He tried to trash, but Gallif pushed him harder into the ground. There was a keening sound like a dying animal and then the boy just stopped. At first, Gallif thought it was a trick. The boy, the witch, wanted him to let go so he could attack again. But Gallif knew that would end with Drip’s face in the dirt once more. Ready for a move, he lessened his hold, but the boy didn’t so much as twitch. He pushed himself up, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He turned the boy over and flinched away. The boy’s eyes were open but they didn’t seem to see anything. They were vacant in a way he’d only seen once before, on a girl rescued from the Phatan raiders who had stolen her some days before.
December 31, 2025 at 7:27 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
The noise the snow falling off my roof is making is A LOT.

It’s not so much the slide but it lands on my front porch.
December 17, 2025 at 7:29 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Smash... I went with "Crushed"

From "A Feathered Thing" - This is kind of the big moment in the middle of the story. I don't know "Acts" but this definitely has a curtain drop.

Ethan knows who Kabuk really is and wants him to be what he should be, even if that means risking himself.
Black text over a picture of white feathers. The text reads: “Kabuk,” Ethan said clearly, “I wish for you to be whole and free.” Kabuk jerked away from him, his eyes wide and liquid. The whites were bloodshot and tears spilled down his cheeks. “Ethan?” “You heard me,” Ethan said. “Whole and free.” “Are you sure?” Kabuk asked. Ethan leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” “You’ll be free. It’s what I want,” Ethan said. Kabuk sat up. He lay one hand on Ethan’s chest. He raised his other hand to the magic. It surged closer. Kabuk closed his eyes as he made the wish. Ethan felt… something… in his chest. He whispered, “I love you, Kabuk.” Kabuk’s eyes flew open just as Ethan’s chest was crushed with pain. Ethan cried out. The pain worsened and his vision went dark. As he lost consciousness, he thought he heard an answering cry.
December 12, 2025 at 6:12 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Full

Back to "Silence" for this one. Massie and Hern are sent to investigate vandalism that involves Hern's mentor.
White text over a picture of a man in a security jacket. The text reads: He turned the video backwards. “We can pick them up at the edge and follow them back to this doorway. It’s a chicken yard. Probably where they got their ‘paint’.” He kept scrolling backwards. “But so far we haven’t found where they came in to trace them back.” “And the tags?” “ID was stolen, according to Tina. They got picked up by a couple of scanners along the hall, but the owner of the ID was at work with a hall full of witnesses.” Massie could tell Hern was frustrated at the dead ends. He did have one helpful bit. “This is the clearest picture we got.” “That’s the best?” “Yes.” It wasn’t much but it showed a dark-haired man with light skin in an orange maintenance uniform. His hair was long and pulled up in a braid. His face wasn’t visible, but someone might recognize him from the video. “Let’s start canvassing here, see if we can find any witnesses,” Hern said. “Ask the eyes in the sky if they’ve identified any of the people closest to him.” “Got it.” Massie typed out the request as Hern stepped up to the bar.
December 11, 2025 at 9:58 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Dominant

Couldn't talk about handedness anywhere, could you, Bea?

So I went with "dominate". I really need to get a title for this one. Historical dual-couple MM romance. James promises Theo he'll find someone perfect for him, but he's having some trouble picking a candidate.
White text over a picture of a fountain pen laying on a leather portfolio. The text reads: He’d made lists, crossing them off and burning them carefully. He’d eliminated a great many possibilities. Few men of his acquaintance were interested in leaving London for any length of time. Some of the men James could remember had expressed interest in Theo when he was in town had moved on. A few were obviously unlikely candidates, drunkards or idiots. James had nothing against a vacuous, pretty face. Well, sometimes he put something against one. But Theo needed someone thoughtful, intelligent, discerning. When James factored in Theo’s needs, it complicated matters. Many of the men James knew who enjoyed inflicting pain also had a need to dominate. Theo would not stand for that. And Theo didn’t, exactly, enjoy pain. Not like some. He needed it, but it wasn’t the pain itself he craved. He and James had discussed this to death when they were younger. Theo had come to him worried that there was something wrong with him. James had enough experience at that point to convince Theo that people took their pleasures in many ways. His was just another.
December 3, 2025 at 10:48 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Dedicate

I had "dedication" in my SF WIP "Silence". Massie is working a job fair. At changeover, people can move between pods. Some do because they're looking for a better living situation, some for better jobs, some because they can't afford anything else. Ox Pod has a bad reputation.
White text over a blacked out picture of a man wearing a black jacket with the word Security on the back. The text reads: Behind the man, a display showed pictures of Ox Pod. Or what Massie assumed was Ox Pod. Smiling people on their way to work by the looks of them. A wide view of fields. Children playing at a playground. Massie grunted. He supposed there had to be children in Ox Pod. He’d just never thought about them. From everything he’d heard, it wasn’t anything like these pictures portrayed. The man in the booth noticed Massie’s interest. “Sir, are you interested in exploring your opportunities come changeover? Ox Pod can always use a good security officer. Competitive pay. Good benefits.” “Like what?” Massie asked. “Housing subsidy, meal stipend, higher pay rate for over-shifts,” the man said. “So you live in the security office, eat crappy food and get paid an extra couple of credits when you can’t get off-shift because they’re short staffed?” The man laughed. “You’ve been misinformed, my friend.” “Are you from Ox Pod?” “Well, no. But I did live there,” he said. “And I can tell you, Ox Pod is more than you’ve heard. They’re making major improvements. They have new leadership with a dedication to positive changes.” Massie didn’t know if that was true or not, so he nodded. Bringing in Parke definitely pointed toward attempts to improve the situation.
November 29, 2025 at 3:08 PM
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#WIPSnips - Crystal

Not a ton of these around, which is weird because I like shiny stuff! But here's a snip from "Silence", my SF WIP.

Hern is looking for his patroness who's in some kind of trouble. Enough trouble that he's there under his official capacity as a security officer.
White text over a picture of a small apartment with a table and two chairs, a small kitchen area, a couch and lamp with a painting on the wall beside an open door through which you can see a bed under another painting. The text reads: Hern turned off the recording. “Celia, it might not be safe for you here. If someone is looking for Anise, and they knew she was staying with you, they might come after you.” “But I don’t know anything! I don’t know where she went.” “They might not believe you,” Hern said. “Do you have friends you could stay with for a couple of days? Somewhere else you could crash?” “Yeah, I suppose,” she said. “You really think I’m in danger?” “I don’t know, but I’d want to play it safe if I was in your place.” She nodded and Hern stood to go. “It was good of you to help her out.” Celia shrugged. “She said she could get me an audition with the creative director at Crystal.” Crystal Theater would be a great gig for a dancer like Celia. Hern’s mother had worked there when she was younger. “Good luck. And thanks, again.” “She’s a mess, huh?” Celia asked as he reached the door. “Aren’t we all?” He let himself out.
November 22, 2025 at 4:38 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Retrograde

I went with ”reversed” because I didn’t have anything close.

From A Feathered Thing

Usually Mike greets Ethan when he gets home. Mike is a Great Danoodle (Standard Poodle and Great Dane mix).
Black text in front of a picture of a Great Dane dog that’s looking at you. The text reads: Ethan ran to the door. It was closed and the dog leash was missing. Kabuk was walking the dog? How was that going to look? Would someone try to grab Mike, thinking he was alone? Shit. Oh, yeah, that, too. Did Kabuk know he had to pick that up? Ethan ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. Forget a watch. He needed to get Kabuk a phone. Why would he just leave with the dog? As he was standing by the door trying to figure out what to do, it opened and Mike barked at him. Ethan greeted him. It was kind of funny. They’d reversed their roles.
November 19, 2025 at 5:40 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips -Shirt

Sneak this in here while I can’t sleep.

After a hard day’s work, they go to the baths.
White text over a browned-out picture of a towel hanging on a hook. The text reads: Bonn was ready, so Gallif handed him a token. With a grunt of thanks, he moved toward the baths. The boy watched him go, his eyes constantly dropping to the ground and then flicking back up. Gallif almost chuckled. Yes, Bonn had a beautiful body. He wouldn’t mind the boy noticing—he was arrogant that way—but that was as far as he’d let that go. Bonn reserved his bed for women only, even on the long trails with the herds. “Are you ready?” Gallif asked. The boy was still wearing his shirt, holding his pants instead of hanging them on a peg. His eyes swung to Gallif and he made a sound like a chicken disturbed on her nest. Gallif wasn’t going to touch the boy’s eggs. “Bonn’s going to use all the hot water at this rate.”
November 13, 2025 at 8:01 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Penultimate

Second to last? I don’t have that anywhere. So I went with “last”.

Drip looks small and starved to Gal.

I’m kind of proud of his friends. Even though I wrote it.
Black text in front of a picture of thick slices of bread. The text reads: Gallif was surprised that the boy finished before the others, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been. Who knows the last time the boy had had a full meal, looking at him. Gallif tore his bread in two and set one half on the boy’s plate. The boy looked up at him, then stared as Sifen pushed a tuber from his plate onto the boy’s and Bonn scooped the jam off of his plate. “Never cared for havenfruit,” Bonn said. “Too sweet.” The boy searched each of their faces. When he reached him, Gallif nodded. The boy’s head dropped and he slowly finished the extra food as the men resumed their talk.
November 7, 2025 at 1:07 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Steel

Going back a ways on this WIP. It's definitely stalled. I get an idea without a goal and get to a point I can't really continue until I know what comes next. This one's going by "Strange Sect".
White text over a background of a red steel door in a red-painted wall. The text reads: Sid took Niklas to a cafe on the edge of a park. The route had been as circuitous as the morning’s trek to the library had been straight. Niklas was not sure he’d be able to find either the library or the shelter again from the cafe and hoped Sid didn’t abandon him there. “Okay, I have a friend here,” Sid said as they edged into the alley beside the cafe. Sid walked them to a steel door across from a dumpster. He knocked and they waited. The door screeched open and Sid started talking. “Laurie, my friend! How’s it going. You got anything for us to do today? I brought a friend. He’s hungry. He can’t read, but we can work.” Laurie was a tall man with a sharp nose and a shaved head. His thick eyebrows drew close as he studied Sid and Niklas. Sid kept smiling at him but Niklas shied away, taking a couple of steps toward the street, ready to run. “Not a lot to do today,” Laurie said before Niklas could escape, “but why don’t you come in and grab a sandwich. You guys can help clean up from the lunch rush.” Sid stepped through the door, right past Laurie who was still holding it open. Niklas hesitated. Laurie leaned down, grabbed a cement block and propped the door open before stepping back inside. Niklas followed him in.
November 4, 2025 at 6:19 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Ancestor

From "Silence" wip - They're on a generation ship. I don't know how many it's been already, but genetics is a concern in a closed system. But this ship is pretty darn big. The concept is each pod is a self-contained city and once a "year", the pods align and people can move.
White text overlaid on a starfield. The text reads: Massie had stopped for a drink or two with a guy from maintenance who was at the bar celebrating his first child. Massie wanted kids. A boy like Hern or Parke would be perfect. He didn’t think Hern wanted kids, but Massie knew he’d be a great dad. He’d raised Massie and Parke and they turned out okay. And, going by what Parke had said, he wasn’t going to be having kids. He’d have to participate in the genetic bank. Not everyone had to have kids, but it was part of the contract their ancestors had signed. If you didn’t reproduce, you had to donate material to the genetic bank. Massie imagined another Parke wandering the pods some day. Of course, it wouldn’t be exactly Parke, mixed with the maternal DNA. Cloning was forbidden except for scientific experiments where they needed a controlled environment. The whole goal was genetic diversity, not just replication. He and his siblings were a perfect example of that. The same mother and three very different children.
November 1, 2025 at 3:20 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Spell

Had to include a scene from my WIP with an actual witch, right? I think I’ve shared parts of this scene before.

Working title Witch On Water - Lee’s hauled in front of the captain when the visiting doctor realizes what kind of witch Lee is and confesses to some extracurriculars.
White text on a blacked-out scene of a ship’s deck and railing looking out over a calm ocean with a sky full of puffy white clouds. The text reads: “We have an excellent safety record,” Captain Bailey said. “But every ship has incidences. People taking one last trip. They don’t want to leave a mess for their family,” Dr. Lane said. “And accidents happen.” “Not if I can help it,” Lee said softly. The doctor turned, his face skeptical. Lee shrugged. “I added some protective spells for the crew. Mostly in engineering. A few in the kitchens. Some of the stairwells.” “You used unofficial spells on the ship?” the detective broke in. Until then, he’d been standing quietly in the corner. “Captain, were you aware of this?” Captain Bailey was looking at Lee. Lee couldn’t quite interpret his expression, but he nodded. “Yes, I knew about the modifications Granding made. The crew appreciate them and Granding maintains the seals as contracted, so I never worried about it. Was that a mistake, Doctor?”
October 31, 2025 at 5:17 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Broomstick

Not surprisingly, I did not have broomstick, but I did have broom.

Continuing Davis & Dunn's Halloween celebration. Luke's grandmother loved Halloween--she used to give out full-sized candy bars to the few kids she saw--so they made a big deal out of it in her memory.
White text over a dark background where a jack-o'-lantern with a grinning face glows amongst other pumpkins. The text reads: Luke and Davis had carved pumpkins and had them sitting on the porch with real candles flickering in their scraped-out fleshy caverns. Luke’s was a traditional pumpkin with a gap-tooth grin and rectangular eyes. Davis had carved an intricate design into his with some woodworking tools that he’d promptly cleaned and oiled. A witch on her broom flew across the crescent moon. The town trick or treat had been the weekend before in the afternoon. They hadn’t handed out full-sized candy bars because the neighbors warned them of the swarms of kids who would be carted into the neighborhood. Instead, they’d stocked up on bags of candy and had still run out before the two hours were up. “Greedy little shits,” Davis had complained as he shut off their porch light and closed the door. “Aww, I thought the kids were cute,” Luke said. “I meant their parents.”
October 29, 2025 at 9:59 PM
bea-evans.bsky.social
Little late but I had the word so I’m sneaking it in here.

#WIPSnips - Costume

Totally typoed that as “coatume” and decided that’s what you call it when you grow up in a cold climate and have to wear a winter coat to trick or treat.

Anyway, Davis & Dunn — The guys host a Halloween party.
White text over a blackened photo of big and small pumpkins. One pumpkin is white. The biggest and smaller pumpkins are orange. The text reads: Before long, people started arriving with their chairs. Luke and Davis had added a kitchen table and four chairs to their furniture collection, so if more than four people wanted to sit, they had to bring their own. Some people were in costume, some not. Luke and Davis were both dressed up, but they hadn’t gone all out. A little monster makeup and some torn clothes with a bit of fake blood transformed them into the undead. Luke had wanted something more elaborate, but time had gotten away from him. He thought their makeup job looked pretty good, though.
October 29, 2025 at 6:43 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Lottery

Early morning. Trouble sleeping. Why not get one of these out for the day?

From A Feathered Thing: Ethan can’t afford to go see his brother who has had a medical emergency. Kabuk offers an option.
White text over a background of colorful rugs. The text reads “You could use the magic.” “What? Magic carpet ride us to Chicago?” Ethan joked. “Oh, man, is that racist? I didn’t mean because you’re,” Ethan waved his hand at Kabuk. “Just, the Genie, you know, from that movie.” “I meant to get money. That is a common use of my magic.” “How would that work?” Ethan asked. “Like Rumpelstiltsken, spin gold from straw? Or like, win the lottery? Maybe a little blip in a bank record.” “I have never seen that first thing. How do you spin gold from straw?” Ethan laughed. “Magic. Duh. But, I don’t know. That sounds like cheating.” Kabuk smiled. “The people that call me don’t worry about such things as fairness.”
October 25, 2025 at 8:33 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Second

Second grade was my favorite. Tyler found some help from his 2nd grade teacher.v
Black text on a browned-out background image of school desks with supplies on them. The text reads: “I struggled to read, did I tell you that, yet?” “No.” Thomas kissed the side of his head. He wanted to know everything about Tyler. He liked that word, “yet.” Like Tyler thought he’d get around to sharing, that he had time. “Well, I did. It wasn’t until second grade that my teacher figured out I had a learning disorder. Before that, everyone thought I was just a bad kid. Or stupid. I got frustrated, I just kind of quit trying. My parents weren’t…” Tyler shrugged.
October 22, 2025 at 12:04 AM
bea-evans.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Dodge

Not sure I'll ever finish this one, but I enjoy the character interplay.

Ian and his boss break down on their way to a meeting. Walter is the only one at the garage where his brother Scott works when they walk in. Ian's boss is a dick to Walter, but Walter crushes fast on Ian.
Black text over a picture of a man in a seersucker suit with a bowtie in a red herringbone pattern. The text reads: “I just feel more confident when I wear bright ties. Though, maybe this one is a little too bright.” “It dances in the fluorescent lights,” Walter said. He stared at it for a long time. Scott cleared his throat. “Walt, you with us?” Walter blinked. “What?” “Ian, maybe you should lose the tie,” Scott said. “Oh my,” Ian said. “Did I cause his seizure? Can bright colors do that? I’m so, so sorry.” He pulled the knot apart and yanked the bow tie from around his neck. He stuffed the fabric into his pants pocket. “I don’t know if the tie could have done that,” Scott said, “but it seemed to be bothering him. Better to avoid any stimulus like that. Sometimes patterns mess with his head.” “I can’t… wow, you guys just won the lottery with the two of us walking through your door today.” “I’m glad you broke down here,” Walter said. “Would you like to go get a hot chocolate with me? You could have coffee if you want. Or tea.” “Walt.” “You should get back to work, Scotty,” Walter said. “Page said the parts came in for that old Dodge. Come on, Ian. I’ll show you some more of this shithole town.” He reached out and took Ian’s hand. Ian looked over his shoulder at Scott as Walter pulled him toward the door. Scott shook his head, then waved him to go
October 18, 2025 at 2:24 PM