#Edit I have a first draft now five months later fuck yeah
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I wrote out the plot to an entire novel a few months ago but the problem is its a romance and I didnt want to start writing a novel about two guys falling in love when i am finnicky about the romance media I consume but the motivation hit and I just wrote twelve pages feeling great
#Its about a guy whos miserable because hes just sure hes about to die at any given moment so hes a depressed prick to everyone#X the guy who calls him out and helped him stop feeling so depressed#The first guy to be fair has a valid point to be so sad he has a chronic illness#And everyone does actually think he is dead for a second there#But they have a sort of enemies to lovers arc#So far i wrote the beginning of the book which includes their meet cute and then i wrote a scene from the middle of the book a while ago#where the healthy one uses a wheelchair to sneak out the sick one and they have a midnight date in the park#Lets hope the motivation carries on and I wont live with this twelve pages of content for the next six months#I think if I finish it I’ll go ahead and get it published#But if I finished it is a huge “if”#Anyways im just having a lovely time over here#Edit I have a first draft now five months later fuck yeah#Mine
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Chop It Like It’s Hot
A Worst Cooks in America O’Knutzy AU
The Sweater Weather Discord group helped me come up with this idea like two months ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. All credit goes to @lumosinlove for her amazing characters!
Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist
Chapter 1: Don’t Go Bacon My Heart
The Day Before the Competition
Interviewer (off camera): Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay for their introductions.
Logan: * taps on microphone* Is this mic working?
Finn: How do you still not know how to work a mic? You deal with them all time.
Logan: I signed up to compete in a cooking show, not to deal with your chirps.
Finn: You love ‘em. *winks*
Interviewer: So basically all we want from you guys is a brief introduction for the viewers. I’ll ask some questions, but most of this should be you guys just talking. We can edit things out later, so don’t worry about anything like that. Why don’t you guys start with your names and careers and we’ll go from there.
Finn: Yo, I’m Finn O’Hara, and I’m a terrible cook. *finger guns* Although I guess that’s a given, seeing that I’m on this show.
Logan: *mumbles in French, head in hands*
Finn: This asshole – shit, no – fuck! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be cussing. This is a family-friendly show.
Logan: Dear God, please stop talking. I’m Logan Tremblay, the unfortunate boyfriend.
*Finn pouts*
Interviewer: And you guys play hockey?
Logan: Yeah, we play in the NHL. Gryffindor Lions.
Finn: That’s how we met, actually. Through hockey. We played together at Harvard, then got drafted to the Lions about a year apart. We’ve known each other for eight years and have been together for three of them. Can’t seem to get rid of this one.
Interviewer: And you’re not worried about being rivals on this show?
Finn: Rivals is a strong word… I mean yes we’ll be competing against each other instead of being teammates, but we know going in that it’s not personal. Just a little healthy competition.
Interviewer: So what made the two of you sign up for this show?
Logan: We didn’t. Our teammate Dumo and his wife Celeste did. They thought it would be funny. *pause* They’re probably right.
Interviewer: Out of the two of you, who is the worst cook?
*Finn and Logan point to each other*
Logan: You can’t be serious.
Finn: You once cooked pasta so much that it turned into literal paste!
Logan: You tried to cook pizza rolls in a toaster.
Finn: That’s what it said in the instructions!
Logan: It said toaster oven, you - *more French*
Finn: English, Tremz. How many times do I have to tell you that? I guess we’ll find out once and for all who the better cook is by the end of the next eight weeks, right? *mouths “it’s me” to the camera*
Logan: Whatever, Fish.
Interviewer: I think we’ve got all we need guys, thanks. Start time for tomorrow is 10:00 am, but plan on being here forty-five minutes to an hour early to get ready. We’ll see you then.
Competition Day
“Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” Finn stated, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the studio they’d be in and out of for the foreseeable future. There were cooking stations everywhere and he could already see tools and machines that he had no clue how to use. There were twelve other contestants that he didn’t know and the crew scattered everywhere, running back and forth trying to get everything ready. “God, how am I sweaty already? Is this normal?”
Logan rolled his eyes but still reached over to grab Finn’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Relax. It’s not so bad.” Finn smiled down at him, glad that they were at least here together. How in the hell did he get so lucky?
“Besides, you’ll be sent home soon enough. So don’t stress too much.”
Finn laughed. “Wow, I hate you so much right now.” He betrayed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re going down.”
Those green eyes flashed at the challenge, but right as he opened his mouth to respond-
“Good morning, recruits!”
All heads turned towards the voice. Three figures stood towards the front of the room: one they both recognized as the producer, who was flanked by who Finn assumed to be the chefs, seeing that they were wearing chef’s outfits. Chef’s uniforms? Did their uniforms have a technical name? Finn made a mental note to google that later.
Anyways, one was a short woman with dark ringlets tied back in a ponytail and an undiscernible expression on her face. The other was tall, blond, and had legs for days Jesus Christ-
“Welcome to your first day of boot camp! This is chef Dorcas Meadowes and chef Leo Knut; they’ll be your team leaders. We’re going to start with some footage of you all walking into the kitchen, so if you all would wait out there until you’re allowed to come back in. Cameras will be rolling, so be ready! After that, our chefs will explain the first challenge and then you’ll start cooking.” He clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get this show started!”
“Why did they make us come in here just to send us back out?” Logan grumbled, following the other shuffling contestants out into the hall.
“Probably easier to give directions to the main studio instead of saying ‘hey, just wait out in the hall.’”
Logan hummed noncommittally. “I guess.” He wasn’t overly excited to be here; most of this (besides the initial push by Dumo and Celeste) was Finn’s idea. And god knows he could never say no to Finn. One look at that pout and brown puppy-dog eyes and he was done for. Logan didn’t like cooking, but he did like Finn. And they’d probably remember this for years to come. It didn’t matter what he was doing, as long as he was with Finn and making memories with him he’d do just about anything.
“Wonder what the first challenge is.” Finn mused, his eyes locked on the doors.
Logan laughed. “Always so impatient.”
“I’m a New Yorker,” Finn grinned, leaning into his accent. “It’s in my blood.”
The doors opened and contestants began filing back into the kitchen. Finn made sure to wave enthusiastically at the chefs with a wide smile. Logan noticed the tall one (god, he’d already forgotten the guy’s name) give a little wave in return as the other chef commanded the attention of everyone else in the room.
“Good morning, recruits, and welcome to boot camp! I’m chef Dorcas Meadowes, and this is chef Leo Knut. He’s the rookie of our crew, but don’t worry – he’s still qualified to teach all of you. Even though that’s not saying much.”
There was a smattering of laughter and chef Leo smiled, revealing dimples Logan could see from where he stood. “Hey, y’all. I’m very excited to see what makes all of you qualified to be put on this show. Who knows? Maybe you’ll give me more gray hair.” Dorcas laughed and ran her fingers through the tuft of gray hair at his temple.
“When did you get this? I don’t remember seeing it when we were in culinary school. Is it from Iron Chef?”
“Nah, this is from having Gordon Ramsay come to my restaurant.”
“Truly a terrifying man.” She shuddered. “Anyways, you guys be nice to this giant ball of sunshine. Even if he’s new, he’s still able to eliminate you from this competition.”
“In order to pick our teams, we need to see what kind of skills you have.” Leo winced. “Or don’t have. So today, we want you to make your favorite dish. Easy enough, right?”
“Oh god,” Finn murmured into Logan’s ear. “What’s my favorite dish? Do I even have one?”
“Finn.”
“You all have an hour to complete this task.” Dorcas said, glancing down at her watch. “And your time starts… now!”
“Fuck.” Finn stated emphatically, dashing off to the pantry.
Fuck was right. God, what was Logan going to make? He was wracking his brain for something while he grabbed two aprons from the back. He tossed one to Finn and took the station beside him before hurrying to the pantry. Chicken was always a safe bet, right? Celeste made a barbeque chicken recipe that was to die for. That couldn’t be too hard. It was just chicken and barbeque sauce. And maybe green beans on the side? He could get those canned ones and they’d taste fine if he rinsed them. This was fine.
He guessed on the temperature for the oven. 350 seemed good. Then he dumped two chicken breasts into a pan, poured the barbeque sauce over them, and put them into the oven.
“What are you making?” Logan startled at the soft voice, turning to see chef Leo at his station.
Blue eyes.
Logan blinked, Leo’s question forgotten. “Quoi?”
“You speak French?”
Why was his brain refusing to work all of a sudden? Get it together, Tremblay. “Uh, yeah.”
“What are you making?” Leo asked for the second time, but now it was in French. Weirdly worded French.
“Barbeque chicken.” Logan responded in French, then switched back to English. “What in the world was that?”
Leo flashed him a grin. “New Orleans, born and raised. We speak French there, too. Now tell me how you’re making that chicken.”
“Uh.” He had never said the word ‘uh’ so much in one sitting. Merde. “I put it in a pan, spread barbeque sauce over it, and I’m cooking it at 350.”
“How do you know when it’s done?”
Was this a trick question? It felt like a trick question. “Uh.” Fuck. “It has to get to a specific internal temperature, right?”
The chef nodded. “And what’s that?”
“145?"
Something in Leo’s expression flickered, but Logan couldn’t figure out what it meant. “Well, good luck. Logan, right?”
“Yeah.”
“See you at the judging table.” He said with a dimpled smile before moving to Finn’s station, which was already a mess. “Oh my. How are you doing over here?”
Finn laughed a bit hysterically. “Not good. Not good at all.”
“Ok. What’s going on?”
“Well I’m trying to make carbo’hara, and –“
“Really, Fish?” Logan called from his station. “That’s what you’re making?”
“What’s carbo’hara?” Leo asked as he watched Finn put bacon in a pan.
“Oh,” Finn waved a hand carelessly. “It’s just carbonara, but a pun on my name, O’Hara. Get it?”
Leo laughed, crossing long arms over his chest. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, but it makes me happy. My parents used to make it every night before my brother or I had hockey games.”
“Oh, that’s right. You guys are hockey players.”
“Go Lions!” Finn cheered, taking a spoonful of butter and throwing it into the pan with the bacon.
“Are you putting butter on bacon?” Leo asked with a raised eyebrow.
Finn responded with full confidence, “I didn’t want it to stick to the pan.”
“Ok. Got it. I… I look forward to seeing what you make.” Finn watched as Leo bit his lip and tried his hardest not to laugh.
Cute.
Finn felt his cheeks flush and blamed it on the steam from the pasta.
The last thirty minutes of the task were absolute chaos, but both boys got it done. Finn’s looked messy, which accurately summed up his cooking style. Logan was pretty proud of how his looked; he just hoped it tasted good. He gave Finn a smile and a fist bump. “Ready to be judged?”
Finn laughed, looking down at his plate. He grimaced. “Not really.”
“We’re all bad cooks. Chances are someone else’s dish is worse than yours.”
“That… actually helped. Thanks.”
***
Finn was chosen to be judged before Logan. He brought up his plate with a sheepish smile and placed it on the table in front of the chefs. Dorcas raised an eyebrow while Leo prodded the pasta with his fork.
“It’s carbo’hara.” Finn stated with pride.
“Well, Finn…” Dorcas met his eyes. “This looks like a mess, but let’s see how it tastes.”
Finn cringed as they both took a bite of his food. Dorcas frowned as she chewed and Leo tilted his head, a confused expression on his face.
“I don’t know how you did it, but this solidifies in my mouth like glue.”
“Oh god, please don’t eat any more.”
“You definitely put a lot of effort in and you have a lot of potential,” Leo said with a small smile. “I think you were just a little too ambitious for this first round and it got away from you.”
“That’s fair. Thanks for the input.” Finn grabbed his plate and made his way back to his station. He wasn’t too upset by those reviews – he already knew he was a bad cook. But he had potential, so at least he had that going for him.
Logan grinned at him back at his station. “I can’t believe you served the judges glue pasta.”
“At least I’m not serving them canned green beans.”
“They taste just fine, thank you very much.”
“Lo, they’re professionals. You’re not getting away with something lazy like that.”
He definitely got in trouble for using the canned green beans. Dorcas looked down at them like they were worms. Leo gave him the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ look, which was even worse, please don’t look at me like that.
“Canned food is a no-go, huh?”
“Definitely.”
“And this chicken isn’t cooked all the way.” Leo said, showing him the pink meat. “You said earlier that you’d cook it until it reached 145 degrees, but chicken needs to reach 165 at a minimum.”
“I’m sure it tasted fine, though.” Dorcas added. “You can’t really go wrong with pre-made barbeque sauce and chicken.”
Ouch. Logan grabbed his plate. “Right. Thanks.”
Finn was predictably cackling at his station. “Tremz, they couldn’t even eat yours. Celeste is going to be so disappointed in you.”
“Shut up.”
***
As soon as they were back into their hotel room, Finn kicked his shoes off and faceplanted into the couch. “I can’t believe that took so long.”
“Yeah,” Logan sat down and grabbed his take-out. “Who knew cooking all day would make us so hungry?”
Finn made grabby hands at the other food container. Logan laughed and handed it to him. “I haven’t been this hungry since playoffs, fuck.”
They ate in silence and were finished in record-setting time. Finn collected their trash and stood up to throw it away. “So blue team, huh? I’m kind of surprised they put us on the same team.”
“Me too. But Leo seems like a good teacher, so I’m glad we’re on his team.”
“Yeah, he seems so young, too.” Which sounded ridiculous to say; Leo couldn’t be that much younger than them. “If he’s already winning competitions and starring in cooking shows at that age, he must be pretty good.”
“Winner of Iron Chef America, Chopped, Guy’s Grocery Games…” Logan read off his phone with a low whistle. “He graduated culinary school early and opened his own restaurant a year later.”
“Damn.”
“There’s a video of one of his competitions on here.”
“Play it!” Finn said excitedly, flopping back down on the couch and peering over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Logan gave him a strange look. “What? Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”
“I think this is going to be way too complicated for us, but ok.”
So they sat on the couch watching cooking competitions for hours, learning skills and techniques that went way over their heads. Logan wordlessly switched to Leo’s cooking show Cajun Cooking, watching episode after episode of the blue-eyed chef teaching traditional New Orleans recipes.
Little did they know that halfway across the city in his own apartment, Leo Knut was watching Youtube highlights of the Gryffindor Lions, keeping a sharp eye out for number seventeen and number ten.
#lumosinlove#Sweater Weather#Coast To Coast#finn o'hara#logan tremblay#leo knut#o'knutzy#chop it like it's hot
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@the-wip-project day 46:
What does your editing/revision process look like?
GREAT QUESTION LOL (ʘᴗʘ✿)
It's a mess. It's a god damn shit ass mess. I can slam down 1k words in an hour if the mood strikes but I will, without question, second guess the everliving fuck out of every last word.
So I write a scene and then spend like 1 week minimum nitpicking it.
Editing fanfic! Its a thing I do until it makes me literally sick. Sometimes I know I'm done with something when I just can't fucking stand to read it anymore. Holy hell you guys just don't have any idea how heavily edited all of my work is.
The method is: draft first, fix later.
So usually my WIPs are stuffed into Tumblr's drafts thing. And I pick at them a few minutes at a time, multiple times a day.
While I'm at work
When I get home
Before bed
When I wake up
When I'm taking a shit
You know, downtime lol
In fact I often start editing the work before I even finish writing all of it.
The number one thing I find myself doing when I'm revising work, is taking the second half of a phrase/sentence/paragraph and cut/pasting it in front of what was once the first half. I don't know why but most of the time, when I rearrange words like this, I like them better.
I also keep the fucking thesaurus handy. Because I'm not confident in my vocabulary. One of the shitty things about writing a lot of smut is this oppressive feeling of "sameness" that permeates each work. It's all smut. Mouths, hands, genitals, sensations, feelings, intimacy. There are only so many words to describe how it feels to be touched. And I don't want to reuse the same idioms from scene to scene cause then it just feels like "I wrote the same smut but remixed." I'm trying to incorporate a heavy focus on dialogue these days and that's helping a lot, but wordplay is challenging when you're writing oral sex for the third time in two months. At that point I often find myself banging out a non smutty scene just to like, loosen up a little.
Side note: I found this "sexy thesaurus" online that listed "heart of her arousal" as a way to say vagina and I'll be honest I've never heard this one and I really love it so yeah expect to see that more lmao
And one of the biggest things I do when I'm editing is distance. I have to take breaks from the work, to write something else, or just to do anything else at all. Sometimes I read other fanfics which is a double edged sword because it's inspiring but also makes me think "fuck why didn't I think of that???" But I'm trying to distance myself from the notion that I can't "borrow" from other works. I can borrow. Borrowing a "train of thought" is not plagiarism. Borrowing one word used near another word is not plagiarism. If I don't try out new words, I will never grow as a writer.
And don't even get me started on dialogue. It's funny because I find Shepard's character a pain to write but her dialogue is very easy for me. She speaks with my voice (not literally but in terms of words). Thane I find easy to identify but harder to dialogue. I revise his words a lot. There's a fine line between his ample vocabulary and his direct way of speaking. For instance in Taste of Victory, I revised these lines at least five different ways:
"What do you hope to gain by poring all night over strategic data?" - I struggled with what exactly Shepard was looking at. I wanted her to be doing some small, pointless thing that made her feel like she was still contributing to the war while tired as fuck, but I didn't want to use the words "war assets."
"The whole galaxy could be on to us and I could not find it in myself to care." - I wanted him to say "I have no fucks to give" in the most Theloquent way possible. I just made up the word Theloquent - Thane + Eloquent. I'll see myself out LMAO
"Ah, the legend herself, assassinated in the fortified heart of her own warship?" - this line was originally way too long. I wanted to keep the words 'legend,' assassinated,' and 'warship.'
Thane in particular is very easy to "overdo," in my opinion. It's easy to put too many big words in his mouth and even easier to tack "Siha" on to every single line of dialogue. In my headcanon, he calls her Shepard just as often, usually saving Siha for more private moments but not always. Actually he sometimes calls her "Dess" too, as a shortened version of "December" (thank you spookyvalentine for that nickname!) but I don't use my Shep's name as a general rule. But yeah I don't want Thane to sound like a thesaurus.
The absolute hardest thing is second guessing the "plot." I'm dealing with a lot of that now. If I change an idea for something that hasn't been written yet - while simultaneously working on a scene that comes AFTER that event - oh my god it just makes my stomach flip with anxiety. I could fix this by actually writing in a linear fashion. But that's so fucking hard to do lmao. That's one reason I haven't finished my long ass WIP yet. I'm happy with the interlude scene but I keep thinking I want to slow burn it more - it's important because both Shep and Thane make direct references to events that happened previously. Events that I haven't written yet. This is me clutching my fucking head in my hands and screaming into a pillow lmao (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
So TLDR my editing process is extremely nonlinear, time consuming, and exhausting. I have this ingrained idea that "there's always room for improvement." But often by the time I'm done editing I can't see what's good about the work anymore. I know which moments I like but I can't see it from an objective standpoint anymore. Coming back to fanfic after years was an incredible experience because it was the first time I ever read my own work from a completely clueless perspective. It gave me inhuman confidence to write again, and I have to remember that because I'll second guess myself into the ground if I'm not careful.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I should maybe try and calm down a bit lol
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2020 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza
Boy howdy, but it has been a year. So much so that I felt the need to dig up this meme so I can lavish myself with a little TLC, ‘cause you know what? I deserve it! And so do you. This year has been tough, and even in the best of times it can be a real struggle to remember that, instead of being your own worst enemy, you should strive to be your best cheerleader. Remember to be kind instead of cruel, to forgive rather than condemn yourself. Creativity is hard, and it is always a journey, never a final destination, so let’s take a moment and sight-see where we’ve been this year, yeah???
Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3
I was tagged by @bubblesthemonsterartist!
1.) With Ribs Laid Open - As many of you know, way, WAY back in 2018, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child, I hit 500 followers and decided to make a raffle for requesting fics which were supposed to be posted during my February-May hiatus after giving birth. This was a great idea pretty much right up until after the raffle winners was announced, since only a week or two later, my grandfather got massively ill, I got EVEN MORE heavily pregnant, and the great complex of shitty 2019/2020 occurred. I’d managed to finish Tender Concessions right at the turn of the new year due to Winter Challenge, which handled two of the promised fics, and this one ended up being the very first raffle fic I promised without a challenge helping me along. I’d been working on it off and on since the request was made, never quite getting it to sit right up until I started working on it at the end of 2019. It was not only a great personal accomplishment, but the daemon AU is really one of my favorite ones I’ve done, and getting to write Obi and Od Ana’s backstory was something I’d been dying to do since I posted Creatures of a Brief Season.
2) Sic Semper Monstrum - I started this fic in 2018, and it’d actually been an idea I’d had way back in 2016 when I first watched Pac Rim. It’s an AU I’ve always really enjoyed, and I really love how it’s turned into this ensemble piece, rather than strictly a ship fic (and I’m sure anyone who has read Seven Suitors knows how much I really love getting to do ensemble elements). But this year it had sort of an added meaning to me-- I’d promised vfordii I’d write this fic for her birthday at the end of December, but December is my MOST PACKED month, so she’s used to getting her present late...and then it got later. And later. And suddenly I was in the hospital because OH YEAH, I’d just been actively dying for about a year. It was actually when I was in the hospital recuperating that I realized my issue with the chapter I was working on-- I’d been trying to make it Zen POV, when it was very, very obviously meant to be Kiki’s. And when I got out, this ended up being the first fic I posted post-recovery. And then I added another chapter to it only a few weeks later! And it’ll be one of the first fics posted in 2021 (sorry, v). So this one really holds a big place in my heart right now, if only because it really came with me on my whole medical journey.
3) Seven Swipes for Shirayuki - As I’m sure plenty of you are aware, Seven Suitors was the fic I was known for for about...forever. It’s actually only within the last year or two that people have read something else of mine first, and the sequel tends to be the first thing most people ask about. But it was also my first posted fic EVER, and the first long form story I’ve completed in years, and so it holds a very special place in my heart. So trying to tell the modern version of it was utterly nerve-wracking. After all, a lot of Zen’s shenanigans wear a lot better on a prince than an American billionaire. It’s been slow to start, but I have to say...I’ve impressed myself with how the adaptation is going. I have a LOT of funs plan for it, but the biggest hump was really getting through the break up scene since it was always going to be...intense. And then I did it, in a way I really liked! And going forward, I’ll get to do a lot more tinder shenanigans, and a lot less heartbreak (mostly >:3c).
4) The Daisy Chain - I have...an embarrassing amount of fics that are sitting, untouched, with only one chapter left to go. Or at least, I pretend they do. But it was ACTUALLY true for Daisy Chain, so getting the opportunity to wrap up one fic I’d been working on since 2017 was...amazing. It was a lot of blood sweat and tears to get this finished, but I’m so happy to have completed something I started so long ago.
5) The Lone Wolf Survives - This is the fic I did not want to write. I’m not a fan of A/B/O; in fact I’m generally annoyed by it because it uses WRONG WOLF DYNAMICS and like, BAD SCIENCE, and though when it’s done good it’s GREAT, it’s usually done terrible and UGHHHH. So when I realized I needed to do it for bingo I...complained. A lot. The most. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. But I eventually settled on the plot of this fic, letting it be canon-but-not, and it just...worked. And I’m ultimately proud that I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and now may torture you with the smut that has not yet happened, ah ha ha ha >:3c
For tagging, I choose... @claudeng80, @infinitelystrangemachinex, @aeroplaneblues, and @k-itsmaywriting
#meme#writing meme#Man it was hard to cut down this list#i had so much fun stuff I wrote this year#Documented for Posterity and Knock Three Times#The Sword Between...#so many fun WFB pieces#SIGH
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Let's go for 9, 10 and 11 on the Meta ask game!! :D
9 - Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?
i mean,,,,, Olympus Inc started off as a fun one-off mystery to distract myself from my camp nano project and now it’s a five-book cyberpunk-noir science-fantasy series with about six concurrent character arcs and So Much Lore even i have a hard time keeping track, so,,, yeah i’m gonna go with longfic dsfkjshjdsfs. As for plotter vs pantser,,,, somewhere in the middle?? i tend to write scenes as they come to mind, so very much non-chronologically, but the biggest reveals/twists/character moments will generally be the first scenes out of everything to exist, and i’ll work out from there. i do kinda wish i was better at writing short stories, but considering how fun developing all the cyberpunk-myth lore for Olympus Incorporated has been,,, i don’t think i’d ever trade it for the original concept.
10 - How would you describe your writing process?
...messy?? sdjfhsdkjfs i haven’t actually been seriously writing for very long, and i’m still trying to figure out the way that best works for me, but right now - the main way i actually try and get words on the page is to set some kind of stupid-high daily goal (think,, nanowrimo but Always), because that forces me to just panic-write to get to the word goal without thinking about how awful what i’m actually putting down is and accidentally switching into Editing Mode. It’s the only way i’ve found so far of getting my brain to actually listen when i tell it that my first drafts are allowed to be bad
11 - What do you envy in other writers?
hey how the FUCK do people write so goddamn fast. i swear i have friends who write like 2k words a day every day meanwhile i’m here with a story concept i’ve had since last april only barely starting the first draft nine months later. what the fuck you guys
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Just Another Day at the Office - The Sexperiment
George MacKay x Reader Series
Part Five: Make It or Break It
Masterlist
Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?
a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) IM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG I’m here to finish this shit once and for all... I know it’s been a while, but I hold this series so close to my heart and I still have the same love for it as I did when I wrote my last chapter (I know it’s only been a few months but STILL) if you’re reading this, I just want to thank you for sticking around, you’re the best <3
Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackay x reader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. Also angst :/ srry this is kinda short
I was in the worst possible situation I could have ever imagined: I had to choose between my dream job and my dream man.
Bree arrived home about twenty minutes later by herself. My bedroom door creaked open, signaling her arrival. She frowned at my appearance, which seemed to be mascara smudged all over my eyes and cheeks and swollen, bloodshot eyes.
She sat down beside me, pulling me into her. “Y/n, I am so, so, sorry.”
I let out a croaked sigh, “I-it’s fine, he was going t-to find out eventually.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she rubbed my back soothingly. “I think he’s in love with you.”
“It doesn't matter if he’s in love or not!” I exclaimed, pulling out of her embrace, my emotions arising again. “He’ll never forgive me for this.”
Hot tears began to stream down my face and I felt my bottom lip tremble. Bree took it as a cue to leave me be, so she quietly exited to her own bedroom.
What the fuck was I going to do?
This job was the job I’d been looking for my entire life; it was the job I’d dreamed about working at.
But, George...
George was everything. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that George would have ever fucked up the way I did. I wouldn’t ever have to question his loyalty, he’d proven to be trustworthy and honest. He treated me like a princess, a way I’d only ever been treated by my father. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt more without him or without a job. He never failed to make me smile or laugh, and he’d ensure that I always felt safe. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fall in love again, until I met him.
I could get a job anywhere, but there was only one George MacKay.
I had to delete the article.
I headed to the kitchen and made myself two cups of coffee before cracking my knuckles and getting to work.
Dean,
This is an emergency. If you don’t reply now or tomorrow, I’m going to be in deep, deep shit.
I didn't have time to wait for his response; I got right to work.
What are people into nowadays, I thought to myself. Sex.
Ping. I clicked on my email.
Y/n,
What?
Well, anything’s better than the fucking Sexperiment article.
Dean,
I have to write a new article. George found out. BAD. Can’t release it, I have to fix this.
Also, would you say your penis size relates to your shoe size at all? It’s for the article.
Promise!
Well, I thought, here goes nothing. My fingers began typing immediately. The caffeine made my fingers shake slightly, but I was determined to write anything. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get George back, but I knew I had to. This was a start, at least.
Ping.
Y/n,
Knew that was going to happen. I’ll help you out, but you owe me. Can we do this tomorrow though? It’s Friday night. Uhhh and to ur other question: I don’t think so. Not going to elaborate more than that. Hope that’s good enough.
I rolled my eyes.
Dean,
Fine. I’ll send you my drafts and you better respond as soon as you can.
I prayed to every possible higher power that this would work. I began conducting research, reading articles and articles about the relationship between the size of a man’s penis and the size of a man’s feet. I wrote down statistics, quotes, and scientific evidence–making sure to exclude any personal experience. I spent hours explaining the theory and science behind it and citing every single quote.
I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but I prayed that Connie wouldn’t be too pissed at me and George would hopefully see how genuinely sorry I was. I knew I’d fucked up, I got too caught up in trying to impress my boss that I practically sabotaged my own relationship in the process. I hadn’t received a single text message or call from him. I missed the way he smelt of sandalwood and vanilla, I missed entangling my fingers in his soft, sandy locks. I missed the way his skin felt against mine and his velvety voice when he called me “love”.
Tears ran down my cheeks once again as these memories lingered in my head. I stared at my computer screen, my eyelids drooping; I needed a break. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I decided that I was going to be entirely committed on staying up all night. Making a sandwich for myself, I sat and watched television for a moment, attempting to distract me from my obvious thoughts. And once I felt slightly more energized, I resumed reading articles, highlighting quotes, and writing. I continued this until Bree woke up, yawning as she swung her bedroom door open.
“Jesus, Y/n,” she observed, my figure at the kitchen table still hunched over, staring at my screen. “Were you up all night?”
“Yeah,” my voice was raspy from exhaustion. “There’s a pot of coffee waiting for you.”
She smiled softly, walking behind me and wrapping her arms around me. “All couples fight, you know.”
I sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore; I need to get this article done.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re writing a new article?”
“Of course I am,” I defended, my eyes not leaving my screen.
She poured herself a cup of the hot liquid.
“You love him.”
My eyes began to water and I fought to blink it away.
“Damn right I do,” I muttered to myself, though I was sure she heard me.
After finishing the draft of the article, I sent it over to Dean. Bree suggested that we go see our friends to distract me, but I wanted to stay home. I needed to write the final draft, and see George...both as soon as possible. Bree stayed around to make sure I’d be okay, watching television with me until Dean responded back with the edits. Once he finally did, I was rewriting the article and using his edits to perfect it. Once I’d finally finished it for Monday, I shut my laptop, grabbed my keys, and began driving to his house.
After parking, I climbed up the stairs until I reached his apartment door. I knocked a few times, nerves churning inside my stomach as I pondered all of the possible reactions he’d have. My biggest fear was that he’d never want to see me again. The door opened, revealing himself in a t-shirt and pajama pants, eyes puffy and bloodshot; I was sure my eyes looked the same.
“I-” I began, letting out a sigh. “I rewrote the article.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“It’s still sex-themed, but it doesn’t have any connection or correlation to you,” I explained, my voice beginning to croak. “I can email it to you, if you’d like. You can read it, see if it’s okay first.”
He shook his head silently. It was apparent that he didn’t know what to say either.
“I know I fucked up,” my voice broke and my bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have come up with an article like that, it was so fucking awful of me to embarrass you in front of your coworkers.”
Tears began to run down my face and I couldn't help but hiccup.
“P-please, George,” I whimpered.
His eyes began to well with tears of his own, and he pulled me into his arms.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you outside of the restaurant,” he whispered, hugging me close to him.
“Oh, George,” I sobbed. “That was nothing; all you’ve done is treat me like gold, and I nearly exposed our fucking sex life to the world.”
He pulled away, cupping both of my cheeks with his palms, his blue orbs staring into mine, his eyelashes thick from wet tears and the whites of his eyes red.
“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking, “don’t lie, nor do something behind my back ever again.”
I pressed my hands against the backs of his, still holding my face in his palms.
“Never again,” I confirmed, throwing my arms around him to feel the warm embrace I thought I’d never feel again. I could inhale his scent, hear his heartbeat through his chest, stare into his ocean blue orbs, and feel the soft sandy curls on his head.
He read the article, and though it made him slightly uncomfortable that I was writing about penises, he designed simple art that would make the article pop in the magazine. Then, we laid in his bed for hours, listening to each others heartbeats, listening to our breathing rhythms, staring into each others eyes as if we were silently communicating to one another.
We decided to take a shower together, stripping each other of our clothes slowly and meaningfully. Once the hot water was running down our bare skin, we washed each other; shampooing each others hair slowly and washing our bodies tenderly, leaving kisses on wet shoulders and necks. Once we got out and dried off, we got back into his bed and maintained a spooning position, his bare torso against my bare back, as we dozed off to the warm, comforting feeling of our bare skin touching.
Monday morning, I sat down at my desk and sent the new article to Connie, anxiety making me bite my nails as I waited for a response back.
Ping.
Oh, no, I thought to myself.
Y/n,
Meet me in the conference room with Dean.
Connie
I sighed, exchanging looks with Dean–whom was reading the email over my shoulder–before we made our way to the conference room. She stood, her arms crossed, as we entered the room. I gulped, heart racing and sweat starting to form at my palms. The two of us sat ourselves, waiting for her to begin.
She joined us in a chair across from us, her elbows resting against the table.
“Well?” she began, her voice questioning. “What happened to the article?”
Dean looked at me, waiting for me to speak for myself. I braced myself before talking.
“The Sexperiment article wasn’t working for me, Connie,” I explained nervously, “I wasn’t having much luck writing it, and I wasn’t confident that it’d reach the magazine’s standards.”
I had to lie; I couldn’t tell her that the article nearly jeopardized my relationship. Dean sat next to me, silent.
She sighed, “I hope this one will reach the ‘magazine’s standards’, then,” she mimicked, before standing up and flattening her skirt. “I’ll publish the article, but this is a warning: do not change your article without contacting me first.”
And with that, we were dismissed, panic still swimming in our stomachs. Well, I thought, I chose George over my job; what else was I expecting?
#george mackay#george mackay x reader#George Mackay smut#1917#1917 schofield#1917 cast#dean charles chapman#x reader fic#x reader
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cielo rojo/red sky, short story update.
Hey, everyone! So today I want to talk about Cielo Rojo/Red Sky, the first complete short story I wrote not only this year, but in a long time. If you read my introduction to the community, I commented on how (thanks to perfectionism) I stopped writing for four or five years.
Reading about a “writer block” that takes more than a few weeks may seem scary af to a lot of people, but I'm kind of glad. I feel more confident now. Also #OvercomingMentalIllness, even if I wasn't a perfectionist, my focus was on other stuff.
State: complete... for now. Probably in a few months I'll read it again and clean it a bit more
Wordcount: 4888 (love the number idk why)
Genre/category: adult, dark fantasy, paranormal (vampires)
Premise/concept: A young woman accepts to be bitten by a vampire in an illegal vampire-party but she really isn't sure if that's what she wants, especially because she has the rarest blood type in the world.
Characters:
Urbana
the MC
a woman in her mid twenties with cool hair, who works as a stylist
a anxious and obedient golden retriever (literally in my notes about her)
Reyes
the vampire
we can't know much about him
but he seems pretty human... and boring
Begonia
our MC's best friend
the crazy one who convinces her to go to the party
I wanted her to have more screen time but I couldn't :(
Playlist:
Show it 2 me (by Night Club)
Gossip (by Night Club)
Dear enemy (by Night Club)
Miss negativity (by Night Club)
Your addiction (by Night Club)
Scheizophrenic (by Night Club)
Die in the disco (by Night Club)
Give yourself up (by Night Club)
Bad girl (by Night Club)
Scary world (by Night Club)
Sad boy (by Night Club)
Need you tonight (by Night Club)
Strobe light (by Night Club)
Tonight is the night i die (by Payale Royale)
Song for planning: (I have a specific song I put on repeat when I plan characters, and other stuff. Usually the vibes don't match that much, but credit where's needed) Little somenthing (by Melody Gardot and Sting)
Years ago I got this idea of a world with vampires and... let me clear up: I always wanted to write about vampires (and all that kind of creatures) but for obvious reasons I thought it wasn't a good idea. I think the Twilight and Twilight copycats era has passed and vampires can be cool again. Thanks.
So years ago I got this idea of a world with vampires, not like a secret world. In this universe, vampires are part of normal life like a bunch of goth kids... okay, no. My take was more political. I thought a lot about it: I wanted them to have power and privilege in society thanks to their... condition but I also wanted them to be seen as an other by no-vampires. To be marginalized in other aspects. I also wondered how law would work with them.
I wanted to write a short story collection in this world, and maybe some day I'll do it (not right now). One of the core ideas was seeing giving blood as similar to sex work (but not the same because it wasn't just the same). And later on I got the idea of Tinder (or a similar app) asking information such as blood type.And later of course I asked myself: which blood would taste better? (as yu do) And who has that blood?
But, besides writing only at night, I'm not a vampire so I don't know, so it changed to what type of blood would attract vampires? Probably a rare one.
Presenting to you: Rh null, the rarest blood type in the world. Only 40-50 have it.
Oh yeah, everything was perfect... except writing after five years of not doing so.
I ignored it for weeks. Specially because I was trying to rewrite an old short story with an interesting concept (the one I'm writing right now). It didn't take much to accept I wasn't ready for this other story. I didn't even told people I was leaving this story again and would want to write other, because I felt ashamed for not sticking to it.
At the moment, I've decided Cielo Rojo would take place in a party full of vampires, so imagine my surprise when YouTube, out of the blue, recommend me a 1 hour mix of “vampire electro/house”.
what the fuck
I didn't told anybody, I don't listen to that kind of music, I don't watch those videos, and I didn't search for ANYTHING related... only the bloodtype, but that doesn't equate with vampires and electro.
Anyways, for me: a sign. Write that shit. The universe screaming at me to stop fooling around and just do the damn thing. So I did.
My first draft took me a few days. Maybe two or three, I can't remember. And I hated it. I was proud and knew it was going to be difficult and I would be able to improve it. But I was still feeling really insecure.
Writing fantasy short fiction is hard: there's a lot you have to explain for the concept to make sense, but I didn't want to bore people or make the story too long.While drafting, and after ending it, I made a list of things that I needed to change or put. In my second draft I mostly restructured some things.
Not much really. Structure wise was better than I thought, specially for pantsing it. Somehow I only wrote useful scenes that happened during moments that traditionally work like that. Like a midpoint! I didn't even plan on putting something similar to a midpoint in my short story but not only it works: somehow it wouldn't ever work without.
Oh, and the second draft was a rewrite, not an edit: one document on a side of the screen, and a new one on the other. That helped a lot.
The third draft was me crying while paying attention to my writing and tearing the prose apart. Filters, abuse of -ing and -ly words (in Spanish are -mente and -ando/-endo), a lot of to-be verbs and a lot of them in unnecessary places or vague language/weasel words.
The fourth draft was the same but after a longer period of time and also polishing the dialogue. The characters had voices but I knew I could do better.
Reyes was so difficult to write. Usually I start with a vague idea of a character, almost as an archetype. But not with him, I just didn't see all of him until the last draft.
I really liked Begonia—I was going to use her more but in the second draft it just didn't made sense. She has a deeper story and personality that would be hinted at... but I didn't.
The prose was a nightmare.
I was trying to get equilibrium with a lot of little details: general stroy details, plot, characters, worldbuilding.
I'm the kind of person who like to suggest myself a theme to use as a compass. Usually when the story is done, I discover more, but a base one is cool. But this story didn't have it. The draft itself didn't took much but between those writing days I couldn't understand what I was going for with this... until I did.
I can't get over the structure. It made sense. And I wasn't even trying (that hard).
That midpoint. I didn't know what I was doing and it worked beautifully.
I thought the dialogue would be worst. Didn't need to change that much.
When I found the theme (to give you an idea, usually for me theme go hand in hand with internal conflict/desire) everything made sense.
The music was perfeeect. Ironically I didn't used the YouTube mix, but thanks to listening to it, it recommended me Nightclub and they reaaally got the vibes.
There's a bunch of details I didn't know why I was putting them (it just felt right or logical) and when you see the big picture they make sense and create layers in the story. Reyes only made sense to me after noticing that. Not only him... but specially him lol
#writing#fiction writing#writeblr#writing update#short story#dark fantasy#vampire#short stories#spanish#new writerblr#vampires
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What Real Support Looks Like, Part 1 (Mat Barzal)
Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8
A/N: This originally started out as a happy story about Mat Barzal and Jordan Eberle’s bromance, but it turned into something far more important. I was heartened to see Jacob Trouba support his fiancé’s career to the point where he was willing to move to another country for her. For that, I deeply admire him, and I wish more hockey players would support their S/O’s like that. To everyone who reads this story: don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. Pursue your dreams no matter what. And you deserve true love, so don’t settle for anything less.
I also created a playlist of songs that have influenced me throughout the series.
Warnings: Swearing, angst, alcohol, sexism
Word Count: 2.8k
Gemma Sullivan smiled as she put the last touches of makeup on her face.
She had been dating Mat Barzal for almost two years now, and she couldn’t be happier. They were each other’s best friend, and they supported each other in everything they did. Gemma lifted him up when he had a bad game or when the Isles were losing, and Mat had been her biggest cheerleader through college and supported her career aspirations. Gemma was going to graduate from college in three months, and then apply to master’s programs to earn an MA in history. Before she could even apply, though, she had to finish her senior thesis. She just took a major step forward this morning when she handed in her full draft for her advisor to edit. Today was also her 22nd birthday, so Mat was going to take her out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate.
Honestly, Gemma was happy that the draft was done because this past month, she had been writing so much that she’d barely been able to spend quality time with Mat. She couldn’t wait to get back a semblance of normalcy, and tonight would be the beginning of that.
Gemma walked out of the bathroom and into hers and Mat’s bedroom, where her red dress was on a hanger. Red was Mat’s favorite color on her, and she bought the dress for that reason. She wanted to surprise him. Gemma slipped it on and zipped it; thank God the zipper was on the side and not the back.
She looked at the clock on the night table, and it read, to her surprise, 8:30PM. Their reservations were at 8:45, and Mat was supposed to be home at 8, so she didn’t bother setting an alarm to make sure she stayed on schedule. Was it possible that he forgot? Gemma immediately shut down that thought. There was no way he forgot; he was probably just running late from hanging out with Tito. She grabbed her heels and sat on the bed, putting each shoe on. As soon as she was done, she heard the front door open.
“Babe?” Mat called, but his voice wasn’t clear like it normally was.
“Where are you?” he called again, and when Gemma heard his staggered footsteps coming towards the bedroom, her heart dropped.
“Hey, babe, there you are!” Mat wasn’t just drunk: he was absolutely hammered. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glazed over. He approached the bed and gave Gemma a sloppy kiss on the top of her head, and she smelled his breath, which reeked of vodka. This kind of behavior was completely out of character for him, and she could barely believe her eyes (or her nose).
“Babe, what happened? We have dinner reservations in 15 minutes,” Gemma said, concerned.
“I was out with Tito and some of the boys,” Mat replied, “And it was totally epic!” He dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter and stumbled into Gemma’s lap. Not wanting to smell of alcohol, she shoved him off and onto the bed next to her.
“You look so sexy. Is this all for me?” Mat asked.
“We’re supposed to go out to dinner in 15 minutes,” she repeated.
“Why?”
Gemma’s heart sunk even further.
“It’s my birthday, Mat,” she said.
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He looked at her, expecting an answer, but she was silent, trying to keep herself from crying. Presumably to fill the silence, Mat said, “Whoops, my bad,” and started laughing again.
His laugh set Gemma off.
“You forgot? You fucking FORGOT?” she exploded. “I’m generally easygoing, but today of all days? Really?”
“Jesus, Gem, relax. We celebrated it on another day last year, so we can do it again this year.”
“Are you saying that you’re bailing on dinner tonight?” she asked.
“I’m not bailing, I’m rescheduling. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” she yelled, “No big deal? Are you kidding me right now? It’s not just my birthday; I handed in my thesis draft today. But you probably forgot about that too,” she added bitterly.
“That goddamn thesis is the reason I haven’t seen you for weeks on end!” Mat yelled back. “You’re always busy writing, or reading, or whatever you’re doing. Sometimes I wish you weren’t going for your master’s.”
Gemma’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe he just said that.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
His eyes widened. He must’ve known he crossed the line, but that didn’t stop him from opening his mouth again. “I don’t know, you just work so hard, and you don’t have to worry about money because I’ll take care of you.”
If Gemma wasn’t seeing red before, she was now.
“This is not just about money, Mathew. Yes, I want to be able to make some of my own money, but if I wanted to be rich, I would’ve gone into computer science or finance. I’m really passionate about history, and I need to be fulfilled intellectually. You said you understood that when we first met; you even said that you love how driven I am!”
“I do, but…”
“But what? There are no but’s. You either support my career or you don’t, and you clearly don’t, so we’re done!”
Gemma took her heels off and threw them on the floor before retrieving her backpack, overnight bag, and a pair of sneakers from the closet. She shoved the sneakers on her feet and started ransacking the drawers. As she took out essential clothing and stuffed it in her bag, Mat just sat there on the bed.
She started to zip up the bag when Mat said, “Where are you going?”
“Where am I going?” she parroted back, incredulous. “Oh, so now you care. How generous of you,” her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“This is our home,” he replied.
“No, it’s your home now,” she said with a calm and even tone that surprised her. “You promised that you would support me and my career no matter what, but you clearly didn’t mean it. Don’t bother trying to call or text because I don’t want to see you.”
And with that, she picked up her two bags, walked out of the bedroom, picked up her car keys on the table in the foyer, and opened the door, slamming it as she exited.
Gemma ran down the stairs as fast as she could. As soon as she stepped outside, she was greeted with pouring rain.
“Oh, this is just perfect!” she muttered to herself. She forgot her umbrella in the apartment, and there was no way she was going back there, so she raced to her car, hopped into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She threw her bags on the back seat before turning on the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.
She drove down the road to the next intersection, and after turning right, she pulled over. As soon as Gemma stopped the car, the floodgates opened. Her life was in tatters. The man who she thought would always be there for her stabbed her in the back. She felt so alone, and when she remembered that she was homeless now, she cried even harder. Where was she going to sleep tonight?
She restarted the car and began driving to the Eberle residence.
When Gemma first started dating Mat, she didn’t expect to get a best friend out of it, but that is exactly what Lauren Eberle became. Right from the start, she and Lauren hit it off due to their mutual low tolerance for bullshit, and an epic friendship was born. She had been her rock through everything, and Gemma knew that she could ask her for advice on anything, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Lauren’s husband, Jordan, was Mat’s closest friend on the team besides Tito, and Gemma was fond of him as well. He taught her how to play the guitar.
She could only hope that now that she broke up with Mat, they would still be there for her.
Gemma came to a stop in front of Lauren and Jordan’s house less than five minutes later. It was still raining heavily outside, so she grabbed her bags and walked to the house. She already looked like a drenched rat, so why bother running?
She reached the door and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, it was, to her intense surprise, Jordan standing at the threshold. She assumed that he was with Mat and Tito when they went out.
“Gemma? Happy birthday! What are you doing here?” Jordan said.
“Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you, but is Lauren home?”
“Yeah, she’s inside. Come on in.” He held the door open wide, and she entered the house.
“Lauren, Gemma is here!” Jordan shouted, and then said to Gemma, “You’re soaking wet! You should take off your shoes and socks, they’ll make you feel even colder than you already are.”
“You’re right, thanks, Jordan,” she said, holding her tears back with great difficulty.
“No problem,” he replied, and he left as Lauren entered the foyer.
“Gemma, happy birth…” Lauren stopped talking as soon as she saw the dripping girl. “What happened?”
“Mat and I, we…we got into a fight,” Gemma started sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry! Let’s get you some dry clothes and we can talk about it, yeah?” Lauren said.
“I brought clothes with me,” Gemma managed to choke out and gesture to her bags in between sobs.
“Let’s go get you dry.” Lauren put her arm around Gemma and led her through the house to hers and Jordan’s bedroom. Gemma opened her soaked bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, an old Trinity College Dublin t-shirt from her semester abroad, and a thick pair of socks. Lauren sat on the bed patiently as she went into the bathroom to change. She emerged, and the two of them walked back to the living room and settled into the couch. Gemma could see Jordan in the kitchen due to the open layout, and he was rustling through the cabinet where they kept their glasses and cups.
“What happened?” Lauren asked. “I thought you two were going to dinner to celebrate your birthday and thesis draft.”
“We were supposed to, but Mat showed up 15 minutes before our reservation completely drunk. He said he went out with Tito and some of the boys.”
“That’s odd. Jordan has been home all evening, and he generally goes with them when they go out.”
“Well, they went out without him, and Mat forgot my birthday. He said we could go out another day, and when I protested, he went on a rant about how he hasn’t seen me in weeks due to my thesis and…and…” Gemma started crying again.
Lauren put her arms around her, and Gemma sobbed into her shoulder.
“What did he say?” Lauren asked when Gemma pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“He said that he wishes I wasn’t going for my master’s degree, and that I don’t need to have a career because he can ‘take care of me,’” she formed air quotes with her hands for emphasis.
“What the fuck?” Lauren said.
“I’m going to kick his ass when I see him tomorrow,” Jordan chimed in, walking into the living room with two mugs. He handed one to Lauren and one to Gemma, and she saw that he made tea.
“I figured you were going to be talking for a while, and you were so wet when you got here, Gem, that hot tea seemed to be in order.” Jordan said, sitting in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, giving her and Lauren a little space.
For the first time since her fight with Mat, Gemma’s heart felt warm and fuzzy.
“Thank you, Jordan. Seriously, what would I do without you? Either of you,” she said, turning to Lauren. “I’m not going to lie, I thought after I told you we broke up, you might not want me here.”
“You’re my best friend, Gem,” Lauren said, “You are always, always welcome here, and it doesn’t matter who you’re dating.”
“I second that,” Jordan interjected. “You’re like a little sister to me.”
“Guys, you’re going to make me cry again,” Gemma said, putting down her tea on the coffee table before hugging Lauren.
“We’re always going to be there for you, Gemma. You can stay in the guest room as long as you need.” Lauren said.
“I already put your bags in there,” Jordan added.
“Thank you, both of you. God, I sound like a broken record.” She laughed, and they laughed with her.
“So what happened after he said that?” Lauren asked.
“I broke up with him, took as much as I could carry, and left,” Gemma replied, and she picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea.
“I just can’t believe it. He always talks about how proud he is of you, that you’re going somewhere in life, and that he loves how passionate you are,” Jordan said. “But if he’s so threatened by you, you did the right thing breaking up with him.”
“You think he’s threatened by me?” Gemma asked.
“I don’t know what exactly his problem is, but that’s the closest thing to what you described,” he answered. “I know you’ve been busy this month, but every relationship gets tested that way. You deserve to know what real support looks like and someone who isn’t going to get scared when the going gets tough. You are the smartest person I’ve ever met, and you truly are going places, Gemma Sullivan.”
“Aw, Jordan,” she said before she stood up, walked over to the armchair, and hugged him tight.
“Thank you, for everything,” she said into his shoulder.
“No thanks needed, it’s the truth.” Jordan replied, pulling away and hitting her arm playfully.
“He’s right, Gemma,” Lauren said. “Everyone admires how passionate and determined you are, not to mention your brains. Someone is going to treat you like the queen you are, even if it isn’t Mat. Speaking of him,” Lauren continued, “What did he do when you were packing to leave?”
“He just sat there on the bed, but when I was about to leave, it seemed to hit him that I was leaving. He tried to say it was our home.”
Lauren and Jordan listened intently, thinking she had more to say, but she didn’t.
“That’s an odd thing to say after one hurts their girlfriend’s feelings so badly,” Lauren said.
“Yeah. I guess he was too plastered,” she muttered, and then she yawned.
“You look exhausted,” Lauren commented.
“It just hit me all of a sudden,” Gemma said, looking at her watch, which read 10:01, “I guess you really can cry yourself out.”
“Why don’t you go to sleep?” Jordan suggested. “You’ll feel a lot better in the morning. Well, physically, at least.”
“It’s 10 o’clock, I don’t go to bed this early.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Your body needs to recover from today,” Lauren advised.
“You’re right,” Gemma said, “Good night. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Jordan replied.
Gemma turned away and walked down the hall towards the spare bedroom, but she stopped and turned back around, only to watch the couple in the living room. Jordan was now on the couch with his arm around Lauren, and he kissed the top of her head. Gemma smiled; she really didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she had to address one more thing.
“Hey guys?” Gemma said, and they looked up at her.
“Yeah?” Lauren said, furrowing her brow.
“I don’t expect Mat to get his shit together tonight, but if he comes here or calls to ask where I am, could you please tell him that I’m not taking him back and will pick up the rest of my stuff when I figure out a new living arrangement?”
“Of course, Gem! We won’t let him get anywhere near you, I promise,” Lauren said.
“Thanks.” She smiled at them and walked into the spare bedroom.
After she got into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, Gemma realized that today wasn’t completely horrible. Lauren and Jordan had shown her what real support looks like—putting a roof over her head when she showed up on their doorstep and giving her great advice. Sure, she suffered a nasty breakup, but in the process, she realized just how amazing her friends were, and she couldn’t be more grateful to have them. She knew the days, weeks, and months ahead were going to be really difficult, but she was ready to face every challenge that came her way.
@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject
#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal x reader#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#new york islanders#jordan eberle#mat barzal#mathew barzal#imagine#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#nhl#new york islanders imagine#what real support looks like#mathew barzal imagine#hockey#nhl fanfiction#hockey fanfiction#mat barzal fanfic#hockey fanfic#nhl fanfic#mathew barzal fanfic
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Rain, I ask you: ALL the quarantine asks!
Animated character that was your gay awakening? not really an ‘awakening’ so much as a ‘hint’, but Azula from Avatar: the Last Airbender ... yep
Grilled cheese or PB&J? GRILLED CHEESE
What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on? I don’t really experience this mood, but my go-to watch is the vlogbrothers YouTube channel
Your go-to bar order, if you drink? if it’s a low-key/work outing, lager or cider (esp the ones with non-apple fruits too); if it’s getting more serious (lol) or with closer friends or a more celebratory mood: vodka with sparkling apple juice
What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own? these Doc Martens that are white with red hearts got ’em with my first ever full time design job paycheck. i did not take care of them well so they’re super scuffed/beat-up and very much not Perfectly White ... but they’re still comfy as heck, i still love the design, and they’ve lasted 3 years so far, let’s see how much longer we can make it ... also i think they’re a limited edition so i likely won’t get my hands on any replacements...
Top three cuisines? my cheap-ass answer would be, like: East Asian, South-East Asian, Western European ... but my non-shit answer is... Japanese, Chinese, Italian (ftr i’m not a seafood fan ... i just love the ramen and non-seafood stuff that japan makes hehe)
What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)? i have no clue
What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had? cold-calling strangers to ask them to do market research phone surveys (y)
Look up. What’s directly across from you? the kitchen
Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? i have a messenger bag that i got signed by Jeph Jacques of the Questionable Content webcomic that i once adored ... and I think my boyfriend has gifted me a signed Matthew Reilly hardcover.
Preferred way to spend a rainy day? curled up indoors wearing something cosy, reading and eating something delicious. playing animal crossing lol. aaaaand listening to music, a good podcast, watching stand-up comedy, drawing, getting intoxicated...
What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? occasionally the standard smoked salmon and cream cheese, but i slightly prefer the meat to be, like, prosciutto
Brunch or midnight snacks? ehh fuck it, both???? both!!
Favorite mug you own easter limited edition waitrose mug, squat and round and yellow, painted/shaped like a very round chick. a Borb,,,,
What coffee drink would you describe yourself as? i actually thought about this and, uh, peppermint mocha. not for everyone, slightly weird, never fitting in with the regulars/being a default, but???? obviously awesome?? also: about 65% on the mainstream/hipster scale
Pick a song lyric to describe your current mood (and drop the name and artist!) The Wombats is the artist. lyrics are either “Let's dance to Joy Division / and celebrate the irony / Everything is going wrong, / but we're so happy” from Let’s Dance to Joy Division or “the edge of nowhere’s such a beautiful place” from Emoticons
Fruity or herbal teas? herbal but i agree with @queenofslime, black tea is the best
What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless? ...do i experience embarrassment about what i like to watch on TV? i don’t know if i do, because i watch relatively few shows ... and have relatively little shame? maybe???
That book you were forced to read for class but actually ended up enjoying? ftr i wasn’t bitter about this before reading, i had no preconceived biases against, and i was pretty open to liking it -- The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
Do you match your socks? if they’re of a really nice design then yes always, if they’re of a more standard/generic design then ... not necessarily
Have you ever been horseback riding? yes a few times ... on the last time which was like five years ago ... the lady said i was a natural and asked if i’d ridden much before, which was. flattering. and yes this is a Brag.
What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) didn’t have much of a hardcore phase but i was pretty much always into fantasy ... oh wait yeah i did! i had a spy phase :)
Have you ever been to jail? to closed-down ones, yep
What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)? pretty great idea unequivocably, right?
Puzzles? i tend to enjoy riddles/lateral thinking puzzles, i am impartial about jigsaw puzzles. i enjoy escape rooms.
You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it? apple ... but elderflower if i’m feeling reckless (y)
What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore? young adult ... or stationery
What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now? Russian language :( it’s going не так хорошо
Who’s your go-to musical artist when you’re feeling upbeat? not sure if i have a go-to artist so much as go-to playlists i’ve made but some good ones are The Wombats and Bastille
Where could someone find you in a museum? mammals/birds in natural history
What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to? i swear i was talking about this recently but i clean the fuck forgot what it was ... oh yeah, i have this short-sleeved black minidress festooned with silver buckles/buttons and also featuring decorative suspenders ... which, yes, does make me look like a sexy military officer,,, anyway it’s pretty badass and somehow it hasn’t occurred to me till now that i can just wear that every day now if i want? ftw i do get the chance to wear it, it’s just a little bit Extra so i get self-conscious. i’ve worn it a few times though. including to work. because fuck it, right? i didn’t become a graphic designer to be shy about sometimes looking like a prototypical emo/scene kid-turned-adult??? (ftr i was never an actual emo/scene kid. i lacked the requisite guts, commitment of feeling, and permissive parents.)
Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds? sunset-coloured clouds :)
If you could own any non-traditional pet (dogs, cats, fish, rodents, etc), what would it be? how about a shapeshifting feathered dragon that could range from, like, two thirds of a foot long (20cm) to sit on your shoulder, to ... the size of a massive draft horse? (but longer and thinner)
Do you have more art on your walls or more photographs? photos, though if i didn’t live with a partner, it might be art
You have to get one meme tattooed on your body, what meme is it and where does it go? i’ve already got a meme tattooed on my body ... a private meme i have with my boyfriend, one on each leg (left: outer side, just above knee; right: outside, a few inches above the ankle)
Pick a superhero sidekick to hang out with ?????? is this a sidekick to a known superhero, or a superhero to act as your sidekick? also i don’t know? who are the standard heroes? i’m not up to date on this.
Lakes, rivers, or oceans? rivers or oceans
Favorite mid-2000s song i can’t decide a favourite, it’s too stressful, but one that i like is Rob Thomas’s Little Wonders
How do you dress when you’re home alone? either a t-shirt and PJ pants, or a dress (usually short-sleeved/sleeveless minidress)
Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? on either side of the couch haha
Knives or swords? BOTH but ok swords.
A song you didn’t think you’d enjoy but ended up loving hmmmmm like all of Linkin Park’s first three albums with some exceptions? hahahah
Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie i don’t think i.....know any????
Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? explanation, though on instagram quite often the photo and caption are unrelated
Name a classic Vine there’s only one thing worse than a rapist...
What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? dumplings! as in the gyoza type.
How do you top your ice cream? that ‘magic’ chocolate sauce that hardens into chocolate. that stuff. i watched those ads all childhood long but my parents were immigrants and therefore very thrifty so we NEVER bought it iirc and then in my adulthood i got it a bunch of times. but now i live in the uk and can’t find it. and forgot it existed. and have never seen it anywhere.
Do you like Jello? the kind that’s served on a plate as a dessert? meh. the kind that are found in asian grocery stores as individual fruit-flavoured serves in little plastic cups? YES
What’s something that you don’t have a picture of that you wish you did? future stock prices? LOL ... or i’m gonna go with @queenofslime‘s answer again -- how others see me. it’s a great answer.
How are you at climbing trees? not............ good. i mean, i like climbing, but i have absolutely terrible upper body strength. i did bouldering for a couple months but only stuck to the first like... three out of nine difficulty levels.
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Broken Hearts Club
⚤ pairing — reader + Oh Sehun (exo)
✎ word count — 6.7k
✦ genre — slight angst, smut, porn WITH a plot
✗ warnings — graphic description of sex, alcohol use, strong language etc
[ A/N ] !!PART TWO COMING SOON!!
SO I actually really worked hard on this. I made an outline, wrote a rough draft, edited this sucker and everything. I really hope you enjoy it. :)) (ps idk why I used Seokjin in this? he just felt like such a great crush to have idk sldkxduo)
Requested — “Could he make you feel as good as I do?” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it”
As you sit in silence on Sehun’s bedroom floor, you look over at him. Tall and handsome, his limbs stretched out on his bed, taking up so much room you briefly wondered how he ever managed to fit a girl in there.
The intrusive thought was followed by a brief line of questions in your mind; what kind of girl he liked, how many different girls he’d had in that bed that seemed way too small for his big frame, and lastly you briefly thought to yourself that Sehun was probably a good fuck.
It’s nothing you hadn’t considered before. He’s gorgeous and he carries himself with this sort of quiet confidence that was definitely intimidating at times. Each movement from him seemed graceful and deliberate, it was easy for anybody to see that Oh Sehun was an attractive man.
Plus, you knew him very well. Having been friends for a couple of years, you had shared so many conversations that lasted late into the night - you knew he was supportive, intelligent, passionate, and that he valued your friendship. So when your brain conjured up a random, fleeting thought about Sehun trying to fit a woman into his bed that seemed too small, and then you thought about sex, your next thought pattern led to you skirting around a confession to your long time friend.
“Sehunnie…” You said carefully, attempting to gain his attention away from his phone. He lifted his eyebrows to acknowledge that he was listening, eyes still on the screen.
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to judge me?”
This caught his attention, and he looked over, sitting up slowly on the edge of the bed so he could focus on you. “Of course.” He replied simply.
Taking a deep breath, you let out the words you’d been holding on to for weeks, “I think I’m in love with Kim Seokjin.”
For a long while, Sehun was unreadable. You had hoped saying it out loud would somehow help you make sense of the way you felt, or figure out what to do about it, but looking at your friend’s unreadable expression you couldn’t help but regret ever having told him this in the first place. Besides, it wasn’t like your friendship together had any sort of basis in sharing these types of things with one another. He had never told you about any girlfriends or crushes or dates. It just wasn’t a topic either of you ever brought up and now that you realized it, you felt a little bit ridiculous for blurting it out.
You were about to apologize, to tell Sehun to forget you ever said anything when he finally spoke up.
“Why him?”
You hesitated, not really quite sure how to answer him. “Um. Well…he’s handsome but it’s…more than that. My heart kind of feels really warm and I get all tingly when I’m near him. That’s what love feels like, I guess. Right?”
Sehun laid back down in his bed and said in a bored tone, “I wouldn’t know,” before he grabbed his phone once more, “You hardly know the guy, though, I do know that.”
“I know him well enough.” You countered, “We’ve hung out.”
“Fine. So you’re in love. When’s the wedding?”
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.” You told him with a frown. “I was hoping you’d be supportive.”
“What do you want me to do? I don’t care if you have feelings for Kim Seokjin. Tell Kim Seokjin and let him do something about it. It’s none of my business.” And with that, he lifted his phone back in front of his face.
Clearly the subject made him uncomfortable. You attempted to apologize a bit later, but he dismissed your apology with a kiss to your forehead, a tender sign of affection that a man like Sehun reserved for special women in his life - you’d seen him kiss his mother and grandmother the exact same way, and it warmed your heart.
“Don’t worry about it.” He told you. “It’s just weird to think of you…never mind.”
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You told him, “I just trust your opinion and I’ve just been feeling down because of this stupid crush.” There’s a moment of hesitance before you decide it couldn’t hurt to ask, “Do you think he could like me back?”
Sehun sighed heavily, “He’d be an idiot not to.”
A small group of mutual friends were having dinner and you overheard Chanyeol telling Minseok that Sehun had canceled at the last minute.
“What’s wrong? Is he ok?” You asked Chanyeol.
“I’m not sure.” Chanyeol admitted, “I think he’s having dating troubles or something. He’s just been quiet and kind of down lately.” He shrugged, “Whatever it is, you know how he gets when he’s down - he doesn’t open up easily, but he can handle it on his own.”
“Yeah.” You mumbled, “I hope so. I had a horror movie marathon by myself last week...normally Sehun joins me but he didn’t respond to my texts.”
“Next time text me.” Chanyeol nudged you with his elbow. “You never invite me over anymore.”
“Sorry, Channie, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” You sigh.
“Are you coming to Namjoon’s party this weekend?” Chanyeol asked excitedly, “It’ll help take your mind off of things.”
“Actually, yeah.” You nodded, “I’d love to.”
Chanyeol texted you the info to Namjoon’s surprise birthday party later that night, and you found out the party was being thrown by Seokjin at his apartment. Work was stressful for the rest of the week, and in your spare time you started to think the party that weekend would be a good opportunity for you to confess your feelings to Seokjin.
You texted him to let him know you were coming and casually asked if he needed any help setting things up or maybe buying drinks or food. He replied back that he had everything under control, but he was looking forward to seeing you.
With your confidence boosted by his text, you decided to get yourself a really cute new outfit for Namjoon’s party. The night of, you were holed up in your bathroom for a solid two hours getting ready, but by the time you arrived at Jin’s apartment, you looked good, you felt good, and the atmosphere was perfect.
The place was packed with a lot of familiar faces as well as some people you didn’t know. You sought out Namjoon first, gifting him with the present you had gotten him and congratulating him on his birthday. Around you, people were dancing to music, voices were chatting, people were singing and laughing and drinking.
“Here,” Namjoon said, offering you a red plastic cup. “There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. You look great tonight, by the way.”
“Thank you!” You smile, “Wow, Jin really went all out for your party, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I was so surprised. I thought I’d get maybe a cake and six guys loudly and badly singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, I definitely didn’t expect all of this.” Namjoon said with a laugh.
“You deserve all of this and more.” You said, “You’re one of the nicest people I know, Kim Namjoon.”
He blushed, smiling shyly, “Thanks, Y/N.”
“I don’t want to keep you from mingling with your guests,” You said, nodding over his shoulder at someone you didn’t recognize approaching to get his attention, “Happy Birthday again, Joonie.”
“Thanks, Y/N! Have a good night, come and find me if you get hungry, I think I’ll mainly stick to the kitchen.” He laughed, “Taehyung bought the biggest cake I’ve ever seen, it’s like five tiers!”
Laughing, you watch as Namjoon heads to the kitchen with the person who approached him across the room, bragging about the aforementioned cake with big, exaggerated hand gestures. Shaking your head fondly, you turn and briefly scan the faces around you before you head out of the room to look around for the host of the party, the broad-shouldered man who had been running through your mind so frequently for the last few months.
Your stomach is in knots and your head is a little dizzy already, a side effect of your nervous state but the alcohol definitely wasn’t doing you any favors. You finish your first drink and are nursing your second before you find Seokjin. He was out on the balcony with a few others, and you begin to approach him when he spots you and excitedly turns to the person next to him.
“Hey! Babe, I want you to meet my friend!” Seokjin motioned you over, and gestured to the woman on his right. “Y/N, this is my date, Jiwoo, Jiwoo, this is Y/N.”
Your heart sank. Your throat constricted. You reach forward to shake hands with the attractive young woman that Seokjin was proudly introducing you to. “H-hi,” You managed to choke out, “How are you?”
“Hi, I’m fine, and yourself?” She replied, smiling pleasantly at you.
“You two would be really good friends,” Jin told his date before you could stutter out a reply to her. “You remind me of each other.”
Jiwoo smiles sweetly at you, and she chuckles when she speaks to you next but you don’t hear her. Whatever she said made Seokjin laugh and he tucked one arm around her waist. “Ah, really, that’s why Y/N has always been such a good friend, her sense of humor reminds me so much of yours, babe.”
You were spiraling, the alcohol in your bloodstream was probably making this whole situation a lot worse than it actually was, but all you knew for sure was you needed to get out of there, to get away from the two of them, and now. Jiwoo spoke again, teasing Jin and asking if he had a crush on you, but before you could even attempt to try and listen to him respond, you interrupt.
“E-excuse me.” You stuttered, “I-I have to…to…” Unable to form any more coherent words, you rush back inside the apartment. The buzz of the party-goers around you was giving you an instant headache. Tears were welling up in your eyes and your throat was so tight it felt like your breath couldn’t escape your lungs. Your vision seemed to be tunneling, and you worried for a moment that you might actually pass out. Scrambling past the people in your way, you made your way up the stairs and into the farthest bathroom, away from the noise.
You shut the door and immediately slumped over the counter, sobbing so hard your entire frame was shaking. The sorrow made your ribs ache. Seokjin could have liked you, but you were too late. He compared you to his date, and was so enthusiastic for you to meet her. If you had stayed long enough to hear him respond to his date’s joke about having a crush on you, it would have ruined your self-esteem to hear his denial. Or even worse, if he had admitted he had a crush on you and that you really had been too late, you would never forgive yourself. The hurt was piercing you so deeply that you wondered if you could ever be friends with him after this. Your knees weren’t strong enough to hold you, and you sank onto the edge of the tub, burying your face in your hands, and you cried your heart out.
Sehun had only just walked in the front door when he spotted you weaving through the crowd, tears welling your eyes, the expression on your face easy for him to read, but even still he didn’t imagine he would open the bathroom door to find you perched on the edge of the tub, shaking as heavy sobs left your frame. The sound of the door alerted you, and you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. He saw the pain in your eyes, bloodshot and puffy, your makeup smeared all over your face, your hair in tangles.
“What happened?” He asked, shutting the door and dropping to his knees in front of you, “Did someone do this?” You weren’t answering his questions fast enough, sniffling, wiping your cheeks off on your sleeves, “Talk to me.” He encouraged you gently, fear beginning to well up inside of him.
“I was going to confess to Seokjin.” You told him regretfully, “He’s here with someone else. She was teasing him about having a crush on me and I-I just…I had to get out of there.”
For a few moments, Sehun just sat there in front of you, staring up at you while you attempted to wipe your face clean on your brand new clothes, angry you spent money on a confession you never even got to follow through on. After a while, you meet his eyes, feeling vulnerable.
“What?” You ask him quietly.
“You’re really up here hiding away in a bathroom, looking like a complete mess, because you didn’t get to confess a crush to some guy you barely know?” Sehun asks you, and when you stare at him sadly and don’t respond, he pulls away from you, standing and pacing to the other end of the bathroom, “Jesus Christ, you cannot be this stupid?”
Frowning, you tell him defensively, “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”
“Oh, princess, trust me, I’m not being mean. This is not mean. This is me asking you, sincerely, if you’re a fucking idiot or not.” Sehun pointed a finger at you, “I followed you in here because I thought something bad had happened. I thought someone hurt you! I didn’t know you’d be in here throwing a little cry-baby temper tantrum because the boy you like has a new girlfriend.”
“Stop being so mean!” You snap at him, “It hurt my feelings, and you’re making it even worse, ok? So just stop!”
“Aw, are your feelings hurt? Well I’m sorry. But guess what? You hurt me the same way that Kim Seokjin hurt you, but I didn’t run off to the bathroom to hide and cry like a little brat. I still showed up tonight, didn’t I? I was hoping to put it past us. I’m being mature and trying to move on. I was hoping you could see that I’ve gotten over it, that I’m over you, that I-”
“Wait, woah, stop.” You cut him off, holding up your hands, “What the hell are you talking about? You’re over what?”
Sehun scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, ok.”
“Seriously.” You insist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, how did I hurt you? It wasn’t on purpose, Sehunnie, you should know that…we’ve been such good friends for so long, I would never intentionally hurt you-”
“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Sehun snaps, this time cutting you off before you could finish. You stare at him with big eyes, sadness still evident in them, and as he looks back at you, he realizes one big mistake that he’d made. You were looking up at him with sadness and tenderness in your watery eyes, realizing only at that moment how you felt was how Sehun had been feeling since you admitted your feelings for Seokjin to him. Everything suddenly made sense - his attitude and his absence since that night, the way he was upset with you now. And you feel like a complete idiot for not having figured all of this out sooner.
“I thought…” You begin, your voice small and cracking a bit, so you clear your throat. “I thought we were best friends.”
“I never wanted to be your friend.” Sehun tells you, “I always wanted to be with you.”
Feeling guilty for assuming the worst, for being bitter and angry thinking that you knew all along of his feelings for you and simply didn’t care about hurting him, Sehun moves to sit on the edge of the tub with you, and he gently takes your hand.
“We are best friends.” He assures you quietly. “I love the time we’ve spent together. I’ve been missing you a lot lately, even though hearing you were in love with someone else was really…hard for me to deal with.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you.” You tell him, fresh tears falling down your face now but these ones weren’t for Kim Seokjin, these ones were for Sehun, and he feels the full weight of each droplet fall heavy on his shoulders.
“I really didn’t know.” You insist between sniffles, “I mean, you never really, like, flirt with me or anything. You’ve never told me how you feel. I’m so sorry, Sehunnie, I feel awful.”
He turns and lifts your shoulders, preventing you from slumping down and crying harder, and he cups your cheeks in both hands, swiping under your eyes tenderly with his thumbs, “Don’t cry.” He tells you, “You’ve done enough of that.”
“But I feel so bad.” You tell him, sniffling and trying hard to fight back your tears as his hands move to tuck your hair behind your ears. “I really am stupid, aren’t I?”
“No, no, no, don’t say that. I shouldn’t have said that...I was just angry. I’m sorry.” He sighs heavily before he continues with a defeated tone, “I didn’t flirt with you. Not because I wasn’t into you, because I was...so, so much. I was just trying to show you that I was interested in more than just hooking up or whatever. Do you think I treated all of my friends the way I do you?”
You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it. I just…enjoyed your company. I never second guessed your actions or your words. I always took everything at face value and…god, Sehun, you should have told me.”
He laughs lightly, easing the tension some, which you’re grateful for. “I wouldn’t stay up all night long talking to Junmyeon on the phone.” He points out, “I don’t let Jongin lay in my lap, I don’t try to braid Chanyeol’s hair.” You laugh at the mental picture all of that conjures, and Sehun smiles sweetly at you. “Ah, you really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?”
You shove his chest lightly, “Give me a break.”
”I have!” Sehun insists , “So many times!” He tosses his hands up exasperatedly, “Other than out right yelling directly in your face that I’m in love with you, I tried everything I could think of to make you feel special to me, because you are.”
At this, you stare at him in awe, nearly on the verge of tears again. Sehun looked vulnerable for the first time since you met him - maybe he hadn’t meant to let that word slip out, but you could tell that he meant it, and even though it made your heart soar, it was breaking, too.
“You love me?” You ask him quietly, unable to form any other coherent words, and he looks down, glancing away from your face nervously.
For a while, he doesn’t answer you, and you were feeling the guilt piling up. It was clear that you had hurt Sehun deeply, obviously much more than this silly, immature encounter with Seokjin had hurt you. You were about to start apologizing all over again when he spoke, under his breath and without looking up at you.
“Do you remember that day I had off last year, when you needed a ride back from the airport? I was exhausted. I had been working hard the whole time you were away, it was my only day off, and I picked you up from the airport and took you to dinner?”
You nod your head, remembering that day very clearly. Sehun had been so tired, physically and mentally, but you hadn’t been back home to Seoul in over a month and the two of you had been so excited to see one another, despite your late arrival, you went out for dinner and stayed up almost the whole night.
“I must have tried to kiss you a hundred times that night.” He recalls with a soft smile, his eyes lifting to meet your own, to gauge your reaction. The regret was clear in your eyes, the subtle, natural pout to your lips was tempting to kiss away, but Sehun held back. Instead, he gently reaches out and strokes your cheek, his thumb lightly trailing down to brush your lips instead, unable to resist the plushness.
“You should have kissed me.” You breathe, wishing more than anything you could somehow turn back time and change things.
“I guess so.” He sighs, his hand dropping from your face and back to his side. “I’m not the kind of man that easily opens up about the way that I feel.” He says, “You know that already.”
“I know.” You murmur sadly.
“What I tried to do, all along, was show you with my actions how I felt. Feel.” He says carefully, “How I…have felt and still feel…about you.”
You gulp, feeling stupid and small that this whole thing was playing out like this. It was your fault, you could see that now. You knew Sehun well enough, after all the time you spent together, that if you had really been paying attention, you would have noticed. Looking back on it now, it’s clear to you how oblivious you had been and how negligent you were of his feelings and the way he treated you.
“I can’t take it back,” You tell him regretfully. “I feel like the worst person in the world because I couldn’t see it, but I can’t change that. I’m sorry.”
For another long moment, you’re both silent, shyly and almost mournfully regarding one another. Neither of you knew what was coming next, but you were certain that Sehun could see your heart pounding in your veins, you were so nervous. Would your friendship be ruined by this? Could you return to normal somehow, or were you expected to find a new normal to adjust to? If so, what did that entail?
All these thoughts were swimming in your head, fueling your anxiety, making you want to cry all over again, but there was only one thought in Sehun’s head in that moment. He was staring directly at your lips, the way they turned down and looked especially full and pouty. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you, but he was holding back, afraid he would drive you away.
“You’re the best person I know, Y/N,” Sehun tells you gently, cupping your cheek softly, his heart bursting with warmth when you nuzzle into his touch slightly. “Maybe in the beginning, I was too afraid to make any real moves, I’ll admit it. After some time, I subconsciously was trying not to ruin our friendship. We both made the same mistake. You were too late to confess to Seokjin and I was too late to confess to you.”
“It’s not too late.” You tell him, your chest aching like your ribs were going to open up and offer him your beating heart. “You told me, I know now. It’s not too late.”
He starts to argue with you, but you cut him off, shaking your head, “It took us this long because maybe you were too afraid in the beginning and maybe I was too clueless this whole time, but it’s not too late if I know now. It can’t be...please don’t let it be too late, Sehun, I-I don’t think I could bear it.”
There’s a fire igniting in his belly, and Sehun sees the way you’re looking at his lips, and he doesn’t make the same mistake he made countless times in the span of your friendship - this time, he cups your cheek, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, drawing it down and pressing gently into the softness, and then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is gentle and hesitant, coupled with your trembling hands reaching for his shirt, clinging to the bottom hem desperately. Just the slightest pressure from his lips, no movement, no tongue, but he takes a breath in and it feels like he’s drawing it directly out of your lungs, and you shift forward just a little closer, trying to mold against him.
You part your lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss, but instead Sehun pulls away. He looks down at you with all the love and adoration in the universe shining out from his eyes before he moves back in, his eyes falling shut as he meets your mouth again. This time, he moves. Soft as silk and slow as he can stand. He smooths his lips repeatedly over yours before he finally deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue past your lips.
With his hands gently cradling your face, he tilts your head to the side a little, and you moan into his mouth as you taste the beer from your tongue and the passion on his lips. Your hands, now fisted and twisting the bottom of his shirt, were just about to trail down and feel the smooth skin of his stomach when Sehun pulls away from you again.
He chuckles because you groan in protest, but he still holds onto your shoulders to keep you steady and hold you an arms length away from him. He’s struggling already to catch his breath, but he’s looking at you intently, trying hard to focus.
“You’re drunk.” He states regretfully. “This isn’t the way I wanna do this, Y/N.”
“Sehunnie, I’ve barely had two drinks, and anyway, we’ve already wasted so much time.” You remind him, tugging lightly on his shirt and he gives in easily, letting you press up against his chest again, “Kiss me.”
He indulges you for a moment, pressing his lips firmly to yours in a chaste kiss before he looks down at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “I’m not trying to hook up with you tonight, Y/N. I don’t want that.” For a moment, your heart sinks, and as you stare up at him, nodding softly, you realize he wasn’t finished. His hand comes back to your cheek, cradling your face. “I want to be with you.” He said.
Your face is burning, and you couldn’t have hidden your 1,000-watt smile if you had wanted to, so instead you beam up at Sehun, someone you trusted, admired and you were certain now someone you had loved for a very long time. It was the sort of love that always existed between you, comfortable, never leaving you with questions or doubts. Your friendship had come naturally and, as you stand up on your tiptoes to take the lead and capture his lips, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest as you hoped that the next step of your relationship was starting right now.
Sehun doesn’t pull away from you this time. He lets you kiss him however you want, relishing in the feel of your silken lips and the insistence of your tongue exploring his mouth. You need to map him out, to memorize every detail of his mouth, now. This was someone you had known so intimately for so long, and yet these minute things, like the way his teeth feel bumping into yours or the very slight scruff on his chin rubbing into yours were new, and it filled you with excitement.
He hums into the kiss, the vibration against your lips makes you smile and your eyes flutter open briefly to see he’s looking back at you, and you burst into giggles.
“What?” He laughs, “Is this weird?”
“No! Not at all.” You insist, “It feels…good. It feels really good..”
The smile he gives you is brighter than the sun and warms you up from the inside out. He comes back to kiss you again and you smooth your hands up his chest, laying them flat, feeling his heart pounding under your right palm. It soothes you to know that his heart is racing just as fast as yours.
The distant, faded sounds of the party downstairs are drowned out, muffled by the sound of his heavy breathing as the kiss you share now grows into something more. His hands move from your waist to your back, pressing you more tightly against him than before, and he slips one hand under the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your lower back. It doesn’t take long before soft sounds were leaving your lips, swallowed up by Sehun’s hungry mouth. He wants to hear you whimper into him more and more, and he keeps pushing further, eventually moving one hand around and gingerly palming your breast through your shirt.
You gasp, arching your back and thrusting your breast into his hand, and in a desperate attempt to feel his skin, you began to claw at his shirt, pulling it upwards and panting against his mouth.
“Take this off.” You breathe raggedly against his lips.
Sehun untangles from you long enough to discard his shirt on the bathroom floor, desperate to press against you with less clothing on, walking you backward until he could lift you and sit you on the counter by the sink. Your legs wrap around his waist and you tug his hair to keep his mouth on yours, even as his hands push up your shirt and he holds you by the ribs, moaning against your tongue as you pulled at his hair lightly.
“Wanna touch you.” Sehun mumbles into the kiss, breaking away from your mouth to catch his breath and look down at you seriously for a second, “I promise I can make you feel good.”
“I know.” You pant, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side, “I want you to touch me, Sehunnie.”
You thought with nothing but your bra standing in his way, that Sehun would want to go for your tits but instead, he drops to his knees in front of you, so he was staring at the ridiculously skimpy skirt you had bought just for this evening. You felt exposed and just a little bit ridiculous as his hands bunch the material up around your waist, exposing the front of your panties. Blushing hard, you watch as Sehun licks his lips and his eyes flicker back up to meet yours. He was asking for permission with his eyes, gentle and caring. You nod your head, and he looks back down, his hands reaching for your thighs first, rubbing smoothly up and down your soft skin.
“You got all dressed up tonight.” He points out, causing you to blush deeper and hide your face in shame.
“Yeah, I did.” You say, gasping because Sehun chose that moment to run his fingers very delicately down the front of your panties, tracing your slit through the material.
“Did you wear these for him?” He asks you, but his voice is calm and curious. You falter, unsure what he wants you to say. When he looks back up at you, he smirks, “Yeah, of course, you did. You wouldn’t wear sexy panties and a matching bra like this unless you wanted somebody to see it.”
“That’s not true.” You murmur a half-developed argument, “Maybe I wanted to wear it for myself.”
“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You’re a bad liar.”
You start to say something back, but all thought is wiped from your brain when Sehun pulls the material of your panties to the side and suddenly his fingers are grazing your bare flesh. You twitch, sensitive, and he’s looking at you so carefully that you almost want to hide, it feels so intimate.
“But he didn’t make you wet like this,” Sehun says, parting your lower lips and taking in the sight of your glistening sex. “Who made you this wet?”
“Y…you did.” You stutter, face burning white-hot with embarrassment.
“That’s right.” Sehun smiles up at you, tugging your panties even more firmly to the side, “I did.” and with that, he leans down plant a kiss at the cleft of your pussy, his eyes locked on yours.
You gasp, thighs jerking, and Sehun grips them firmly to keep them spread, and he kisses you again, and again until you aren’t so sensitive anymore. You watch him with your mouth agape, nearly drooling at the sight of his lips on you like this. Then he licks. Gently over your outer labia at first, but then he licks deeper, moaning against you when he tastes the slickness of your arousal pooling against his tongue.
Sehun’s mouth is hot and greedy, licking deep against your hole and flicking insistently against your clit, sucking and swallowing and groaning against you all the while. Your head is spinning and you can’t look away from him. His mouth was intoxicating against yours but to have him between your thighs like this was something far more addictive and something all together cosmic.
You’re already about to cum when he inserts the first finger into you. You buck your hips into his face and feel him smirk, and his eyes focus on yours again and you know that he knows. And then he stops.
You’re about to protest weakly, to accuse him of being a tease when he stands up and his hands move to the button and zipper of his jeans. It shuts you up in a hurry and you sit there, legs spread, cunt dripping, and watch with your mouth practically watering as he pulls out his thick, heavy cock. Sehun strokes himself a couple of times as he looks you over.
“God, Y/N, you’re so beautiful. Do you want me to fuck you?”
Nodding eagerly, you swallow past a lump in your throat, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him. “Yes, Sehunnie, please.”
“Scoot a little closer to the edge.” He tells you, gripping your thighs and tugging you slightly to aid in your movements. He steps between your thighs and then reaches into his pocket for a condom before he shoves his jeans off the rest of the way so they don’t inhibit his movement. You trace his abs lightly with curious fingers as he rolls the condom down the length of his erection, and he tells you in a low whisper, “I’ve wanted this for so long, Y/N.”
You feel compelled to tell him that you’re sorry yet again, but he kisses the words from your lips and without wasting any more time, pushes himself inside of you. Sehun groans with you when he’s inside, and he thrusts in deeper, bottoming out while you gasp and cling onto him. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, and Sehun kisses you slowly and keeps himself still, letting you adjust. You feel impossibly tight, clenching around his cock and trembling. When he does start moving, he pulls back from your mouth and looks down between you at where you’re joined. He’s already coated in your arousal, sticky and wet with each plunge back inside your depths, and even though he hasn’t had a single drink tonight, he feels drunk on the sight alone.
“Fuck.” He hisses, squeezing tightly your waist and drawing you further off of the counter. He’s practically holding your weight on his own now, only using the counter to balance himself, and he’s slamming into you deeply. “Fuck!”
Shaking and moaning uncontrollably, you’re on the edge of orgasm again and you begin to claw at Sehun’s back and shoulders, trying to keep him pressed tightly to you while your hips roll to gain friction on your clit. It’s only been a couple of minutes and Sehun can feel when you start to cum around him, your inner walls rhythmically squeezing and pulsing around his cock, and he feels victorious.
“Could he make you feel as good as I do?” He asks as you cry out at the peak of your pleasure. “Could he fuck you so good you cum for him in two minutes flat?” Sehun asks, his thumb finding your clit despite your orgasm beginning to slow, driving it right back up to another peak, “Look at you.” He says, voice thick with adoration and amazement, “You’re soaking my cock, you’re cumming all over me. Fuck, you’re so good.”
“Oh, my god, don’t stop..” You cry out, tears spilling down your face as one orgasm leads directly into another and your whole body is trembling under Sehun’s.
“I’m not gonna stop.” He grunts, fucking you through your orgasm and continuing on, pounding you rough and fast, “I want to be with you, Y/N,” He groans, “I want to fuck you like this all the time. Always.”
“Always.” You echo back automatically, head thrown back, eyes watering and vision blurry. “I love you, Sehunnie. Oh, god…I love you so much.”
Sehun meant to draw it out a little bit longer, he meant to see if he could make you cum a third time, but as the words left your lips in the throes of passion, his hips stuttered against you and his cock throbbed and released, spilling himself inside the condom. Your tryst had lasted all of ten minutes, and he maybe would have been disappointed if he had been with anybody else, but he was with you, and when he stilled and looked down at you, you were grinning up at him, satisfied, your makeup smeared and your hair a mess, and Sehun was happier than he could remember being in his life.
He’s apologetic as he helps you get off the bathroom counter. Shy as he hands you a wad of toilet paper and turns away to give you privacy to clean up while he removes the condom. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”
“You weren’t too rough.” You assure him, “It felt amazing. I loved every second of it.”
He winces a little at your choice of words, “Shit. I’m sorry it was so quick…next time I’ll be more thorough and I’ll take my time. I mean, if you want there to be a next time. We don’t have to.”
You laugh, coming up behind him as he stuffs himself back in his jeans and closes the zipper. You hug him from the back, pressing a kiss between his shoulderblades, “It was perfect, Sehunnie. And of course, I want there to be a next time. I meant it when I said I love you, you know?”
“You don’t love me.” He chuckles, turning to face you. “All this time I’ve been in love with you, you never noticed.”
“I didn’t notice because I thought what we had was special and different than any other friendship. Regardless, of course, I love you. I love you for being supportive of me, for being there for me when I needed you, I love you for coming after me tonight to check on me, for caring about me, for being concerned for me, even though I hurt you. I love you for coming over to watch scary movies and eat junk food when we’re bored.” You laugh, and he smiles back at you. “I just didn’t realize what kind of love this was as I was feeling it. Not until now.”
“What kind is it?” He asks you curiously.
“Not the kind where you have a stupid crush and it makes your heart flutter and you end up crying in the bathroom at some party. My love for you is comfortable and easy, and I’ve never doubted it or second-guessed it because I always felt it so strongly. I’m sorry that I didn’t question it, though... I should have analyzed our feelings sooner. I should have paid closer attention. But I’m not sorry at the same time, because our bond is very strong and for that, I’m thankful. Thank you for sticking around, Sehun.”
His chest is swelling with pride and affection as he looks down at you. There’s a lot more he wants to say and a lot more he wants to ask, but for now, he feels at peace. Sehun presses a kiss to your forehead and slips his arm around your shoulders, and he leads you out of the bathroom.
As you walk together down the short hallway to the stairs, he mutters under his breath against your ear, “Let’s literally never tell Seokjin that we hooked up in his guest bathroom.”
#oh sehun#exo#sehun smut#sehun oneshot#mine#LISTEN....editing is rly hard for me so pls forgive any mistakes#i read through this so many times and tried to fix any errors I saw#maybe i need a beta reader or editor sdlfkjosie nah i'm too nervous#i'll just continue posting things until I Get Good#i'm happy with the practice i've had the last few weeks and the progress i've made already#this is my favorite oneshot so far
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Out of curiosity, why do you write as a hobby. What do you feel when writing? Do you see the whole plot first and details later?
You’re about to get a whole ass answer complete with childhood trauma. Mild trigger warning for child abuse?
So, tumblr ate the first draft of this and I’m annoyed. Today has been very annoying. But I digress. The easiest thing to talk about is the process. I start everything with a small idea. It can be a few lines of dialogue, a character prototype, or a “what if” question. One of the first scenes I thought of for IAL was the “Jack making bad sandwiches” and Lucky asking “Are we poor?” And I realized I really wanted to write that relationship dynamic. Obviously that scene came much later in the story, but it was one of the first building blocks. And then, I have to take that idea and build it into something that can stand on its own. Because alone, it’s just the ramblings of a maniac. Great, some OC made a joke about Jack’s cooking skills? Who really cares? Well, you do, by that point in IAL. (I assume you do if you made it that far...)
Feng’s an AU version of my main character from a novel series I really need to rework. Spoiler: the conceptual question was, “what happens when heroes/adventurers settle down and have kids? What kind of family life do they have?” And then it turned into an in-depth examination of unhealthy family dynamics and the difficulty of being halfway between worlds both metaphorically and sometimes literally. Second spoiler: Just because you’re an awesome monster-killer/mercenary duo, doesn’t mean you’re going to be great parents.
So it’s usually some kind of idea, that I just keep building on till it becomes something that could be a more concrete story. But it takes time to foment. I’d been two months into the Overwatch fandom before I started writing IAL. I had all kinds of ideas, mostly for the Angst!AU and the current timeline. I’d written a few teaser scenes for that, but on a whim, started IAL instead. And it grew so much faster than I expected.
So it’s taken me awhile, but I’ve gotten to the point with ideas (and drafts!) where I can be excited about the shininess of a new thing, but also know that I’m really going to have to work on it to make it better. It’s rarely just “poof!” and “awesome.” I have to take an extra step to ask what makes this idea/character/scene stand out from everything else that is out there. What am I really adding? And you know, sometimes stuff isn’t better/different/greater than everything else out there. But it’s still enjoyable. And I’ll take that too.
When I write, it’s planning and creativity. On good days, I’m entranced in what I’m doing, really planning/living the scene in my head, and really pleased with my progress. (Heavily focused daydreaming?) On bad days, it’s a slog to stay on track, nothing feels good/inspired, and I feel like a hack. I’ve learned that how I feel while creating doesn’t actually guarantee the quality of the work. When I go back to edit, sometimes the stuff is really good, sometimes it’s not, and the stuff I write when I feel bad can actually be really good and vice versa. But it always needs to be edited.
On a side note, all my internet friends groups I made because of writing. Sometimes we shared fandoms, but it was always the writing/reading that connected us. (Sometimes, that was bad, because writers are neurotic and sometimes egotistical. Shocking, I know.) Put us all together and the insecurities were numerous. :P
Now, onto the heavy shit. In my case, I don’t know if I can call writing a “hobby.” It’s a coping mechanism. I know that sounds a little pretentious, but bear with me. I would write even if there was no one else left to read it, because I’ve grown my brain in that direction. It’s easier for me to work out shit on paper than it is to talk about. (Or at least, I can make it sound cooler and more coherent on paper than just putting it in stream of consciousness sort of blather.)
I started writing when I was 12. I have loved reading all my life, but up till then never considered myself that creative. I did some fiction writing before that, never very seriously and never with any intention to be a writer. It might have never caught my interest, but I have immigrant parents who had good intentions and terrible parenting skills.
In middle school, things were pretty terrible at home. I didn’t have outlets. I will flat out say they were abusive and crying got the response “I’ll give you something to cry about.” I was kind of crybaby when I was five (yes, even for a five year old). I had an excellent poker face by eleven.
I used to draw, but I wasn’t very good at it, and my parents didn’t encourage it, because I wasn’t very good, so what was the point? (Yes, I know that logic is wrong, but that’s what I got told.) And also, even if I was good, I wasn’t going to make any money. So don’t bother. I wasn’t allowed to play sports. I had no musical talent or inclination. I wasn’t really allowed to leave the house very often. If I wanted to go anywhere, I had to take my younger sisters (four and eight years younger than me) with me, because I was the oldest and what kind of sister was I if I went out with people and left them at home? (Ahem. More bad logic, I know.) No, they were hardcore serious about this. And if they didn’t want me to go somewhere, they’d just say that they didn’t trust those people with my sisters. And let’s not even get into the power dynamic with my sisters and how that worked. It wasn’t pretty, for any of us.
My parents, like the Asian stereotype goes, were obsessive on schoolwork. So if I was doing “homework,” they left me alone. And if I wanted to use the computer, I had better be doing homework. I started journaling, for both therapeutic and legal reasons. It was depressing as fuck recording the nonfiction events of my life. One day, I wrote a little fanfiction scene from Sailor Moon in crappy script format. It was so terrible. But I liked it. I reread it so many times. It was empowering. So I wrote another one. And then started a whole damn series. It was baaaaad. I filled multiple notebooks with this saga, in pencil, so it’s probably illegible now, though I have them in trunk somewhere. I wrote a more polished (but still bad) version for a Sailor Moon fanfic archive and was thrilled when people actually read it and kind of liked it. (...they had terrible taste, lol) But that’s how I passed the time. At home. At school. I just started writing when I was upset, or bored, or just because. It was melodramatic, self-indulgent, and a coping mechanism. My teachers encouraged it. (English teachers usually liked me.) And gradually, I got better at it. I stopped writing scripts, started writing proper stories. My characters became better, more fleshed out. I expanded into original fiction.
Now seriously, I’m not going to say that I don’t have issues because of it. But sharing this stuff doesn’t hurt me. It’s uncomfortable in the sense of “oversharing with people you don’t know super well should be uncomfortable...if only the person in the cubicle beside me would learn that.” It’s mostly just weird. So there’s no need for obligatory comforting comments. It’s cool. I talk to my parents every few months in a civil fashion, once a month if I’m unlucky. And it’s not anything to brag about, but there are boundaries in place and I’m good. So kind of a happy outcome.
But yeah, that’s why I started writing. It was that or kill real people.
*insert serial killer joke because I'm too tired*
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2018 Year End Writing Review
Even though I haven’t been posting much fic around these parts, it’s become something of an annual tradition to look back on the year’s progress, writing-wise.
The short version: I wrote 500,206 words this year, and spent about 364 hours doing it. Since I wrote 500,017 words last year, I fully expected this year to be kind of a dip year, but instead, I’ve written a million words in the last two years. That is...pretty damn neat, honestly.
The long version, if you’re interested in a load of stuff I couldn’t post here:
What I worked on:
More of that 2013 NaNo novel. The whale, as I called it in my last year-end report. It is still that. I still love it, I still hate it, I will keep chipping away at it. I did a huge re-outline of it earlier this year and began redrafting, but late in the year I largely shelved it to focus on another project that I felt was closer to being “done” (see below).
A second draft of the novella whose first draft I finished near the end of 2017. Is it still going to be a novella when it’s done? Fuck if I know. We’ll find out eventually. This is another project I stalled on and ended up shelving near the end of the year, but I’m hoping to pick it up again in 2019 and push forward.
An old romance novel concept that I’d dropped a few years back. I picked it up again, gave it a bit of a polish, a new outline, and got some chapters written. I’m planning on pushing forward with this, too, so that the next time a certain publisher sends out their open call again that I’ll be ready to submit.
Writing the recaps for our group’s first Pathfinder game, which I was a player/recordkeeper for. They were narrative recaps. They were detailed. They took a lot of time. But I’m glad to have the record.
Worldbuilding and story prep for the Pathfinder game I started running in late September. I started working on this in March, for an introductory one-shot that I ran in May, and then continued working on it throughout the summer--and beyond, of course, because even while the game is now being played, there’s a whole wide world to develop. This is my happy sandbox place, where I get to put things like villages with sod roof houses and vast cities built into an ancient forest and twisty pantheons. Sometimes I feel crushed beneath the anxiety of actually running the game--I would probably do better with a system like 5E, with less goddamn crunch--but just creating for this place is usually a joy.
Fic. I revisited Inquisition and Mass Effect; branched into Star Wars: Rebels; and got really, really into Stardew Valley (more fic definitely to come on that front). I’ve really allowed fic to become my happy, easy place this year; it’s not something I do unless I’m really just feeling like relaxing, and that’s really nice. But I don’t necessarily post it, unless I feel it’s ready to face the world...and sometimes, I write things that just won’t see the light of day. I’m becoming more comfortable with that. Sometimes it feels like writing without a purpose, but sometimes the purpose of entertaining myself is enough, yeah?
There was a real variety in what I wrote this year. I always felt like I had something I could work on, and this list doesn’t even really encompass the random new ideas that I scribbled down during weekly prompt sprints/while on walks/shower thoughts/etc. I had a lot of options, a lot of things in various stages of creation (brainstorming, outlining, first draft, second draft, eighth draft, whatever). So even when I was stuck on one thing, I could progress on another.
But how well did I stick to the goals I set last year? Ehhh.
Last Year’s Goals
Spend a little time writing every day: This was probably the smartest of my goals. Committing myself to spend a little time--even just five minutes--writing daily leads to me writing more, overall. And I did a fair job of it, writing somewhere between 2/3 and 3/4 of days every month. This is the goal I did best with, and it’s one I want to keep.
No word count goal: I’m pretty sure I set this goal and forgot all about it. I crave word count goals. I love them. They feed me. I set a bunch of them, month by month. I’m not sure they’re totally nutritious, though. More about that later.
Permission to write ficlets, drabbles, and even multi-chaptered fics as I want to: I did write--and post--more fic this year than in 2017, 35,221 words to AO3 and much more that didn’t get posted. But still hardly any, compared to my previous output. There was a different category of writing that kind of sucked up the time I would usually use for polishing fic, I think: building a world/campaign for a new Pathfinder game.
Get back to These Chains: I did not. *the world’s longest sigh* I was so optimistic when I first started posting this thing. I had it pretty much fully outlined and a draft halfway written, so I figured I would have no trouble keeping up a posting schedule, but. That didn’t happen, and then the thing has languished, and given everything that happened in 2018 I just didn’t have time to get back to it. Someday. I hope.
So. What have we learned?
Well, there’s a thing I’m good at, and a thing I’m comfortable with, and a thing I like doing above all else, and that’s churning out a first draft. Working on a new thing. Spitting out words haphazardly. That’s how I, personally, wrote a million words in two years. I love it. It feeds my soul.
But something needs to change if I ever want to really finish these six hundred projects I’m juggling with increasingly frantic speed. And fuck, do I. I feel like my 2013 NaNo novel has potential, but for five years now that’s all it’s been--potential, locked up behind five additional drafts which have not been so much refined as have been entirely new drafts. I don’t like editing. It’s hard and annoying and at the end of two hours I feel like I have pretty much nothing to show for it. No nice numbers I can plug into my fancy spreadsheet. Maybe less words than I began with. Probably less words than I began with, actually.
But editing is probably hard for me because it’s not something I like to practice, so I haven’t. Not with any real dedication. And with that in mind...
Goals for 2019
Write, brainstorm, or edit a little bit every day. I’m starting off easy in January with a totally attainable goal of 5 minutes per day, which I will surely overshoot, but toward the end of last year I really fell out of the habit of writing or writing-adjacent activities, and it showed in how my word count and time spent dropped. Habits help me, so I’m going to re-establish some good habits.
Learn some different editing techniques, and practice them. In particular, I try to do everything at once when I edit, and I want to try that top down method of: one pass for worldbuilding, one pass for plot structure, one pass for character arcs, one pass for dialogue, etc., etc.
Remember to do your fun writing when you need it. There could always stand to be more fic in the world, after all.
And that’s that! Here we go into 2019. I hope all of your creative endeavors, whatever they may be, meet with much success.
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⭐star⭐ waffle at me about your favourite lines youve written
ohhh friend you have opened a pandoras box and i hope you are ready also thank you aha
so i started…….. picking some lines and made the Executive Decision to just do one fic because i was planning on doing a couple from a handful of fics but turns out im far too prone to waffling about this kind of stuff because i love picking things apart and figuring out why they work because i love fuckign words and the things they evoke and stuff so yeah this is just some fave lines from most recent fic, requital.
this was part of a ‘directors cut’ writer thing and if anyone has any more prompts, feel more than free to send them my way!
Requital, Chp. 1:
His honesty, wrapped tightly underneath a chivalrous act; a throwaway comment to soften the exposure of such a question, draws her closer.
She kisses him, and hopes that even though the motion is countless in the amount of times they’ve come together, that the answer is plain enough. A claim, she hears her own words in her head, tasting the tobacco of his morning cigarette on her tongue, the warmth of the pull at his hands on her hips.
so whilst i cant say this section was directly inspired by the ecdysis book, what i can say is that there is definitely some influence going on here, in particular these two lines from the page ‘synesthesia’:
“Wu Ming is a bonfire in the darkness, and she crawls toward his warmth.”
“Wu Ming leaves his questions by the wayside as he is drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty.”
and thats not something i realised until i was writing the final draft, and im pretty pleased with myself considering not only is requital going to examine some of the similarities between avia and drifter, but also the fact that ecdysis is probably my favourite book. i mean…… ‘drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty’ what the FUCK KIND OF LINE its gorgeous i cant deal with it or this book or this page or how desperately gorgeous the tragedy of drifter and orins relationship is
also…… look. im a hopeless romantic. always have been, probs always will be, so when i say avia and rook are soulmates i mean it in the cheesiest way possible. right before this is rook feeling a bit self-conscious about the whole awoken engaging thing, and theres no way avia can actually put into words how irrevocably in love she is with rook. so she kisses him, and hopes beyond hope that she can put those feelings into motions if not words. i also enjoy the small bit of possessiveness that came out of her too, because the whole ‘claim’ thing with the awoken was there since the first draft but this section came in the final edit, she thinks of it so casually but when she goes on to say that she’d actually duel anyone who came between them i…….. would not put it past her to be 100% down to do that.
rook isnt a bonfire in the darkness, he’s an anchor in the deep, a solid tether when the sea becomes a storm.
(ayyy where the FUCK WAS THAT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS)
Requital Chp. 2:
Here’s the thing, if you’ve gone through the trouble of decrypting this (a fortified certain-eyes-only encryption that took me a couple of hundred years to perfect, thank you very much), it at least means you’re interested, so hear me out.
i like this line a lot, for a few reasons. drifter knows avia well enough at this point to be well acquainted with her temper and lack of time for dealing with his nonsense. it’s the first flick of the coin between the two of them, drifter laying the proverbial gauntlet down and at the end of the day, its up to her whether or not she picks it up.
and she does, avia asks levi to decrypt it, and the first thing she sees is drifter acknowledging that shes done so and asking her to at least hear him out. he’s kind of caught her out, and she can respect that even if thats not at the forefront of her mind. avia also has her own brand of curiosity when it comes to people like the drifter, so this is kind of the first inkling of that. and it also (i hope) makes you wonder if drifter is aware of that curiosity that she has, if he sent the message decrypted on purpose to get her interested.
She smiles at the note, throws her legs over the bed and stretches around a yawn. Five minutes later, Levi puts her in her armour.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?” The Ghost asks. “We don’t have anything urgent to do. There’s breakfast here.”
Avia hums, considering. She moves into the kitchen, glances over the fridge, the cupboards. She looks then onto the sofa, the sprawled pillows, untidy blankets. Suddenly the armour on her body feels heavy, out of place, like the metal has no right being somewhere like this.
“No. I’m not hungry, let’s go.”
“Okay,” Levi says in that tone of voice that lets her know they aren’t buying it. “Should we walk, or transmat?”
Avia notices the balcony door is still open. She walks over and closes it, the streets barely alive as one or two civilians walk to and fro, glancing idly at each other as they pass. “Transmat.”
avia immediately makes an comment about being all domestic with rook in chapter 1. its just not something that suits her in her own mind, and that line (even though i havent waffled about it bc dear god theres too much here already) was something i immediately knew i wanted if i was going to write a day of domestic bliss with her and her fiance, because i knew it’d be a hard thing for her to just get on with like a normal person aha.
so, we get this part in chapter 2. the domestic bliss is over, and what avia knows best, what shes always known best, is a set of armour and getting back to work. however this part of herself contradicts that which she’s experienced for the past day, and especially the line ‘Suddenly the armour on her body feels heavy, out of place, like the metal has no right being somewhere like this.’ i put in to really reinforce that idea. its not the metal that feels out of place in this scene, its the person in the metal. and her eagerness to transmat straight to the tower rather than walk through the peaceful city streets shows her tendency to run from such thoughts.
this part came really naturally, actually. its a small snapshot into a bigger struggle avia has with herself (especially given the dreaming city, the reef, petra and now potentially going back to the worst part of the shore with drifter) of where she belongs, and more importantly, if she deserves to belong. which is why levi talks to her in that tone because they know what shes doing, theyve seen it so many times before – avia in a scenario that resembles something normal and running from it with no one around to stop her, because in her subconscious she doesnt believe she deserves it.
“Ada-1, I believe, has fully settled into the Tower. She becomes more and more tolerable of the Guardians by the day. And with the discovery of Niobe labs, her mood has been favourable.”
i had no idea how fun scarlet was to write until i got to this part. she almost has her own language, really. writing ‘im really proud of ada because i spent all morning with her and she was only snippy with like two guardians and shes been really uplifted and im really happy for her since they found niobe labs’ in scarlets own ‘okay but heres the relevant information’ way of explaining things is a challenge but FUN. like, really fun??
because scarlet wouldnt be mentioning adas mood if she didnt care, ya know? and its not that she cant say that longer thing about being proud and stuff, its just that she doesnt see the sense in it and its not important information. like, if avia and eden were to spend a dedicated amount of time whittling her down she would absolutely say ‘i am so proud of ada and also i wanna smooch her face how do i do that as an exo’ but its just not a thing for her. but part of the reason why ada and scarlet being together was an idea that i had was because i imagine that line of thinking probably suits ada.
“It was at Ada’s request. I had more knowledge of the area in its current state, and felt more comfortable talking to Ikora and her Hidden agents than Ada did…”
supportive exo girlfriends. that is all. man ive gotta write more about these two
“Hmm,” Ada wears a concerned stare masked behind a formal rigidity that Avia knows her Warlock teammate best for.
if im being honest, i just really enjoy this line. i imagine its hard for exos to show concern, esp a character like ada and my girl scarlet, so avia has spent a lot of time dissecting certain facial cues and yeah im proud of how this description came out aha
…as if she hadn’t spent the past few months clipping sidelong comments and threatening him when his Gambit veered out of the realm of her control.
avia is a control freak. plain and simple, and i wanted to make that as obvious as possible considering this sentence is only a few away from avia choosing to go and talk to drifter.
there’s a certain amount of ‘i need to understand this thing that i have limited knowledge on so i can predict/control/plan for it in the future’ in how avia views drifter in general, its a kind-of warlock way of thinking about things but the big difference is avias need for control in these situations is a) selfish and b) only applies to things that she knows she has a good chance of understanding/taming. shes not going around learning about the hive because she has a good understanding that thats a cosmic threat that can only be defended against until it comes. drifter on the other hand is on her doorstep.
i also really loved the contradiction in putting ‘gambit’ and ‘control’ next to each other in a sentence, i kinda hoped it showed how conflicted avia is about going and talking to drifter, and maybe even how naive it is of her to think that it could turn out okay.
She was incensed, maybe, at the way he spoke to Ada, needed to go and stomp the idea out of his head but he got her talking, like he does
i like this line bc its avia acknowledging that she knows how shes viewed. she knows everyone sees her as a hot-head, she knows her anger veers away from her sometimes and whilst she’s gotten better at getting a handle on it, it’s still an aspect of her that people who dont know her well enough find it hard to get past.
i also enjoy how new people to this fic/avia in general might not know that this is a big part of her? so she’s trying to use it as an excuse, ‘well no one can blame me if i say i got really mad because thats what i do’ and it (hopefully) tells new people about that aspect of her character without having to show the worst part of it, the convo with ada being an introduction to it i guess – especially since the past few scenes have seen her a lot softer than im used to writing aha.
“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. And walks towards the Drifter before she can make a better decision
fun fact – this line was originally ‘and walks down the corridor before she can make a better decision.’
i changed it because i wanted to make it more obvious that avia is making a conscious decision to choose drifter, that she’s walking towards a path that she knows is not a good idea. it provides foreshadowing for the allegiance quest and referring to him as ‘The Drifter’ cements it as an idea that she’s walking towards and not necessarily a person.
#ask thing#thanks buddy!!!#this was really fun#im such a fucking nerd someone put me in the bin honestly ahahaha#jadeisadork.txt
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hello wisconsin!
Okay, I'm garbage and have been putting this off for ages. I finished binging That 70's Show like a month ago and have been building this post for just as long.
I started this post at the beginning of season 6. Read it as such. I'll let you know when the part I wrote at season 6 ends and where I pick it back up in the present. If that makes sense.
I'm starting at season 6 mostly because I'm pretty sure the shark is going to be jumped at some point soon. Just like MASH, which lasted longer than the Korean war, 70's stretches 2 years of high school into 5 seasons. Plus another 3 for some reason.
And that's my first point. New rule: if your TV show appreciates in time and the events in the show don't line up with that, you've fucked up. I just watched 5 seasons of the kids in high school. You're telling me this shit goes on for another 75 fucking episodes?
Look, MASH I can give a pass to because they don't mark specific points in the war to give the watcher any time reference. MASH gives no dates - it's feasible that a 5-year war could span 10+ seasons, if we guess that each season is 6 months long. (That's not how it really works, but you get the point).
70's STARTS THE SHOW at the end of grade 11, and we know this. To a rational person, that means "One season of grade 11, 2 for grade 12, maybe another for summers." Then. They. Graduate. And. Leave.
But that's... not happening. For ANY of the main characters. They just decided to extend a show about high schoolers into their *supposed* college years. Which I wouldn't even have minded much - if ANY of them ACTUALLY WENT TO COLLEGE.
If they hadn't made things so cut-and-dry regarding timeframes, They could've kept being 12th graders for 10 seasons for all I care. But they CHOSE to follow defined timespans. And I think that's what's got me feeling that season 5 might've been the last "good season".
So everything you've read, I wrote before I finished the show. And, well, turns out I was right. This is also from before I finished the show (with a few things I’ve thrown in now):
There's a lot to disect from 70s, but there's one I want to focus on: Red Forman.
Why? Well, these characters are static and uninteresting: Donna, Fes* and Bob. They're pretty useless in terms of character development. These ones have simple character arcs: Hyde, Eric and Kitty. They change and grow, but in pretty predictible ways. In terms of change, Jackie obviously takes the cake, with Kelso at a close second.
*It is actually spelled Fes, because that's not his name. It's an acronym for Foreign Exchange Student.
But there's only one character that never seems to change or grow at all: Red. I said "seems" because he does change and grow, but it's instantaneous and doesn’t come for a looooong time.
It takes place immediately after returning from fishing, after Eric tells him he and Donna are engaged. He reaches a very sound, strong position: he made Eric run the gauntlet on everything he shit his way, but Eric never gave up. So he gives Eric the blessing to marry Donna. (There's another very pivotal change in his character, but that's later.)
I would've called that a nice wrap-up to the series.
But then they had to give him a damn heart attack to keep all the kids here. Why? Fuck if I know. (Jackie's still in high school and Hyde has a job he likes at home, but there is literally no reason for any of these other kids to still be here.)
The stupid heart-attack got Eric to push back college. I was fine with that. Then the whole Casablanca shit with Donna not getting on the bus, well, it kinda pissed me off (like, girl, don't let a fuckin weak ass ferret man determine your future) but it was a pretty sweet, moving moment. Another one that would've been great to end the show on.
But they didn't. So now we have Kelso, future cop; Fes, unemployed illegal immigrant with ZERO CHARACTER TRAITS THAT PEOPLE CARE ABOUT; and Eric “Dog Food” Forman.
Anyway, back to Red. It was that one heartwarming moment when he came back from fishing that made me realize that, while this is obviously fiction, Red is the epitome of a psychologically abusive parent. And THAT'S when I realized that literally not one of the characters HASN'T gone through significant trauma. Red's a vet; Kitty's an alcoholic who lost her father; Eric has an abusive father and alcoholic mother; Donna has a mentally retarded ball of pubic hair as a father and her mother ran out; Hyde's parents split; Jackie's dad's in jail and mom fucked off. I refuse to talk about Fes anymore cuz he's just the stupidest, most irritating "character" on the show, Randy notwithstanding. "He's brown! And has a funny accent! Hahaha" - nobody, ever.
It's when I realized that we NEVER see ANY of Kelso's home life did I realize that he was likely the sanest of the group. And, like him outscoring both Hyde and Eric on the SATs, that's very, very sad.
Back to Red. We know he became traumatized and hardened by serving in two wars. We know he's treated Eric like garbage his entire life... yet Eric is pretty well-adjusted. And that is where, 5000 words in, we get to my point: abuse is played for laughs and it's fine because Eric has a snappy comeback to Red most of the time.
Eric Foreman's a sarcastic wit with great comedic timing. So that, according to the show, cancels out of all the times Red's told Eric he was stupid and degraded him in front of his friends.
Of course, conflict has to come from somewhere, and one's parents is that major source for most teens. But to an extent.
"Red's a hardass," as the kids say regularly. But no, being a hardass is refusing a kid candy till he finishes his broccoli. Not telling him he's worthless over and over and over for 17 years
And I don't care what anyone says: that amount of abuse over a child's life does not a snappy, well-adjusted Eric Forman make.
It makes me. A crumbling, shattered, fragmented person with no sense of self-worth or accomplishment.
And now, we’re caught up. Back in the present, having finished the show.
My point ended up being made.
If the show had ended at season 5 with Donna missing her bus, we would've missed a lot.
Look, I still firmly believe the show itself would've been better if it had ended earlier, but my complaints about the effect of Red's abuse of Eric would've gone unanswered.
I spent the next 3 seasons mildly annoyed that they existed - first, Eric doesn't go to college. Then neither does Donna. Why are they still around? Why do we still care? The whole point of the show was to show us high schoolers graduating and going off to college. To me, it felt like how it would feel if MASH continued after the war ended.
I was absolutely irrate when Eric announced the theme of season 7 would be "I'm taking a year off to eat and watch TV and sleep!" There was a great scene that's often seen on tumblr in gif form: at breakfast, Red asks Eric what he's going to do about: moving out, Donna, his job, and his future. He replies "I 'unno" to each question. Red tells him to have a plan by the end of the day if he wants to eat. And I said "Finally, some good fucking Red Forman." Then, at the end of the day, Eric announces: "Donna? Hanging out. Job? Quit. Future? None. When am I moving out? Make. Me."
To which I said, "THAT'S WHAT YOU DID LAST SEASON BITCH!" Only apparently I was wrong; Eric Forman could and did become even more useless than before.
But at least it gets us to my absolute favorite point in the entire series. Season 7, episode 9, 18 minutes in. (Thanks to Reddit for helping me locate this scene). Red is bitching at Eric for not knowing what to do with his life. Let's go straight to the transcript (with side jokes edited out):
E: Did it ever occur to you guys that I don't know what I'm doing? I'm scared, okay? Look. My whole life, I've been trying to please other people. So I feel like I don't know who I am. Or know what I want to do with my life. I just don't want to wake up in five years and hate my life.
R: That's unavoidable.
E: Okay, I just need more time to think.
R: You know what I got for my 18th birthday? A draft notice and a Malaria vaccine. I never had time to *think.*
E: Yeah, but Dad, don't you think it would've been helpful if you did?
Then the camera zooms in on Red, and no laugh track, no jokes, he thinks for a good 20 seconds. Then he says, "Okay. I'll give you six months."
It's my favourite scene. Even more than the one we get after fishing or the one before leaving for Africa. Because unlike those few heartfelt scenes, this one relies on Red. Being. Wrong. And admitting it.
There's a reason Eric's spent his whole life trying to please others: Red. There's a reason Eric doesn't know who he is: Red.
Throughout the entire series, Red's been a Conservative Republican veteran who, as Kitty puts it, "Thinks the only way to become a man is to DIE." Just 500 words ago, I called him abusive. And, let's be real, he is.
But I also had an abusive father. That's why I picked this direction for this post to go. I saw Scott in Red Forman. But they are NOT the same.
Red Forman will admit to being wrong. And that makes up for a whole goddamn lot. Going through abuse is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy. But if they did and their abuser ADMITTED HE WAS WRONG, that is NOT nothing to the abused. If my dad had admitted he was a dick, my life would be a LOT different.
And Eric is the epitome of that feeling. His eyes light up when Red says he'll give him six months. Because Red knows he's done Eric wrong. He knows he owes him at least this much. At various points throughout the series it's been pointed out that Eric is who he is because of Red. It was inevitable that Red, too, would eventually reach this conclusion.
Anyway. That's that.
I do want to talk about other things than Eric and Red Forman, so let's play all the hits: fuck Jackie and Fes, fuck Randy with a chainsaw, the moment the show jumped the shark was when Eric bailed on the wedding, fuck Randy with a hot curling iron, Fes is the most annoying and useless character on the show, LOVED the episode where they finally Green Out™ and Kelso calls the White House, and FUCK RANDY WITH A CEREMONIAL JAPANESE KATANA.
Look. I can't in good conscience indulge in a 70's review without talking Randy.
But I hate him so much I don't want to waste energy on him so let's get this over with: useless, Gary Stu, want to put his hair through a blender, fuck him for being in the cirle in the theme song.
Okay, but let's play one last one: Tommy Chong.
I was curious as to why he was absent for 3 seasons so I Googled it. Dude was in prison for selling bongs. He said, upon getting out and returning to the show, "I thought they would've made that a part of the show!" I think that says it all about Leo and why he's my favorite character, with Hyde as a close second. But FUCK Danny Masterson and FUCK Scientology. Look it up.
Well, to finish off, an interesting tidbit: at the end of the theme song, it is Hyde who shouts "Hello Wisconsin!". The entire time, for 200 episodes, I would've sworn on my life that it was Kelso.
Stay Greater.
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what r some good long sterek fics pls help
Indelible Marks by billtheradish
The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)
Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn’t old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn’t stop him from being interesting…
(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn’t mean it’s riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven’t had a chance to be edited in full yet–but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn’t your cup of tea, just come back later.)
Home by TheTypewriterGirl
January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.
The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.
So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?
Put Down in Words by paintedrecs
“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”
“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.
“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.
*
When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.
Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.
Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch
Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.
Well, except for the fact that he’s a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica’s epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there’s this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.
Oh, and the murders, of course.
But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.
The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis
In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)
Love Thy Neighbor…He’s Hot by Triangulum
Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he’s so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.
OR
The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.
The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam
It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.
After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.
Permanent Fixture by linksofmemories
Derek is Scott’s older brother. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.
Wild Horses by thepsychicclam
Derek’s a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family’s failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn’t expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff’s shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn’t expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.
Play Crack the Sky by WeAreTheCyclones
Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014“Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”
Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015“Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale.“
Three Marks by sanam
"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off—And suddenly it was done.Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”
Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.
Windows by dr_girlfriend
Derek has a new neighbor who won’t stop looking.
Excerpt:
“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.
“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”
“Fuck, I…I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.
“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”
“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”
“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”
Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi
“Three weeks,” Derek says.
“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.
“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…
“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“
“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”
“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.
Dating Backwards by RemainNameless
Pornstars Derek and Stiles work for the same company. Derek only shoots with werewolves and Stiles only shoots with humans. That’s not going to change after they meet. It’s really not.(It might.)
Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt
Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.
He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.
Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?
No Homo by RemainNameless
Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:3 FourLokos+ 1 peer-pressuring cat- 1 best bro to end all best bros= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.Derek is the fool who replies.
There’s Monsters at Home by calrissian18
“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.
The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”
Derek despised him.
Prince Among Wolves by tylerfucklin
Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.
Between Men and Lions by standinginanicedress
“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.
“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.
“Yes, friends.”
Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.
What’s Best For Everyone, Isn’t What’s Easy by gatergirl79
Derek is gone and Stiles is left holding the baby…well, a cheery three year old named Leah actually. While Derek searches for her mom, Stiles plays daddy. When the sour-alpha wolf returns with his ex in toe, things get strained between Stiles and Derek. Especially now that’s they’ve realized just what they mean to each other
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100 Days of Writing
[Day 12] Discovery Writing
So @the-wip-project pointed us toward a truly revolutionizing concept: discovery writing.
And y’all, I am so excited.
I feel like this has turned everything on its head. But in a good way. And it’s been galvanizing. I’ve already done that thing when you take a first draft and make it readable (what is that called? It’s not editing, is it? Because I write a lot more when I do that part… like, I don’t just cross things out and change words… I add whole sections and rearrange dialogue and… hell, maybe it is editing, idk) for one chapter of a WIP I haven’t touched in years and also finished the first draft of a scene I started a few months ago.
You know what it’s done? It’s given me permission to get back to the crazy, haphazard, mosaic way I usually write. I’ve been trying so hard to write linearly because … I don’t know. I got more attention for that story and attention is a hell of a drug. But maybe I need to trust that the story is what people are coming for, and also trust that I’ll do it better if I just write in my own way.
We were given a prompt for discovery writing, which I would dearly love to do, but I am mentally exhausted from the last few days of writing. I’ve neglected my family and other responsibilities terribly and as fun as it’s been, I need to focus on those two scenes so I can put them up on Ao3. It’s not like I’m really all that proud of them - and I’m certainly frustrated that the pieces are going to be so disjointed up there, but I need to see how a piece works if I just do it organically versus how I’ve been trying to write THE WIP of last year (and now this year I guess; how the ever loving fuck are we halfway through June?)
Instead, I’ll just take a few lines to show what discovery writing looks like for me. It’s absolutely chaotic, and truth be told, I would have written so much more so many years ago if I’d understood that this is perfectly legit. Now, for people who use screen readers, I’m so sorry to use a screenshots, but I’m not typing this garbage out, lol. Just imagine a lot of weird symbols and terrible grammar, zero structure, and four or five words in a row that mean the same thing because I can’t decide which one “tastes” right. Oh my god, I sound insane, don’t I?
And that’s legit.
Here goes:
SO yeah, this is actually one of the cleaner versions… I tried to find a version of any WIP that was just that first wild dump of words and ideas, but TIL I really must develop a naming convention for my writing files. Frankly, though, this is pretty representative of a first draft for me.
Notice how it’s almost more of a description of the story rather than the actual story. Maybe some would call this an outline? It’s not how I picture outlines, though. Also, it’s in present tense. I almost always write the first messy wordspew in present tense because it gives me a kind of immediacy - an intimacy - that the more formal past tense doesn’t let me have. But I do eventually “translate” it to past tense because I feel like present tense is too immediate for a reader, if that makes any sense? I need to be inside the words and what’s happening, but for a reader to see it, they need to be standing just outside it. In my humble opinion, anyway.
What I have a lot less experience with is turning this jumbled mess into a seamlessly readable, relatable piece that has the right pacing and really gives the reader the feeling I want them to have. I want the words to take shape in their mouth and lay themselves in layers in their hearts where they sink in and leave an imprint that will surface years later in a song, or a poem, or a sentence spoken aloud in the dark that makes someone stay instead of leave. But I’m working on it.
And by the way this whole post was written discovery-style. I am hooked. This is what I’ve been missing all this time.
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