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inspired-by-the-music · 3 years

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For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california

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Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 7: The Girl Who Cried

Sehun POV

Lei had no idea how famous she was just a year after debuting. Somehow, she didn’t seem to feel all of the eyes on her. She danced like nobody was watching.

I guess I shouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t until everyone performed together at the SM Town concert that I realized that nobody saw her as a nine-year-old gap-toothed kid anymore. She wasn’t that kid anymore. She wasn’t just the little girl who liked me too much anymore. She wasn’t just my friend anymore.

I feel like an idiot writing these things down because it always should have been obvious that she wasn’t ever just any of those things. She, like everyone, was a complex person. She was always more than my perception of her. I just didn’t realize it before she became an idol, too, and— although this is wrong— I wanted to close my eyes and keep her as the figure in my mind and memories that I was content to never understand.

Suddenly— overnight, it seemed— this girl who I always thought was special because of our connection was special to everybody. Not just to me. Not just to Super Junior. Not just to the sea of roaring audiences who, at least, would never know her and see her and care for her away from the stage like I did. Other idols were taking an interest in Lei, and they didn’t care to be quiet about their budding admiration.

Baekhyun was not least among that growing group of admirers. In front of everybody, he knelt before her, and— giggling stupidly at the surprised smile that spread across her face— he kissed her hand and addressed her as “Your majesty,” into his microphone.

Of course, the audience screamed, and everyone around them cooed because (although Baekhyun looked like a moron) Lei was adorable. For the briefest second, I couldn’t control any muscle in my face, and I could only passively hope that nobody filmed the grimace that preceded my forced smile that didn’t come close to reaching my eyes.

I would have to talk to Baekhyun later, I decided while walking backstage. Lei was only fifteen, so his behavior was not appropriate. It wasn’t right to kiss her— not even on her hand, not even to amuse fans, not even to make her smile the way she did.

Everything was changing. Nobody likes change. Even when it’s necessary or the result of growth, change is hard to embrace fully without fear. And I guess if you want to know the truth that I never wanted to admit even in the darkest, quietest recess of my mind, I will admit it now that enough time has passed: I was afraid that Lei was right that day at Puroland. I was afraid that one day— probably soon— she would find herself unable to look at me the way she had every day in the past.

Don’t ask me why it was so important for her to love me when I didn’t love her back. I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter why.

Lei didn’t follow far behind me. From where I stood secure in the stage’s wings, I heard Jongin, who rarely complimented people he didn’t know well, cheer, “You have really good stage presence, Lei!” I heard her giggle.

My shoulders tensed, and although there was no hint that any eyes were on me, I tried to conceal my reaction by crossing my arms over my chest. I should have been happy to witness her receiving the praise she deserved, but I wasn’t. I was uncomfortable.

Was I worried that she would also look to me to compliment her only to be disappointed when, despite the desire to uplift and encourage her, I could say nothing? Was I worried that as she met more people like Jongin and Baekhyun (who followed Jongin’s compliment by boasting, “You were so cool out there!” and giving her a high five), she would altogether move on from me?

Yes and yes.

I know that I’m a hypocrite and an idiot. Every time I’ve held Lei’s attention, I’ve wished it away. Then, when I think that I’ve finally succeeded in convincing her to look elsewhere, I swear that I would do anything to turn back time. It’s a foolish cycle. Even if I should turn back the clocks, I would never find a time when we appreciated each other in the same way at the same time.

Our entire relationship— even still— has been one mistake, one misstep after another, and somehow I have always felt that I am the expert on how to treat Lei properly. Stupid. Immature. Clumsy. Hypocrite.

If ever you’re frustrated with me, just know that I was almost always aware of the fact that I was being stupid. I just didn’t know how to break the cycle. I didn’t know how to break the habit. And as much as I liked Lei— as much as I wanted her to be happy— as much as I wanted to somehow be a part of that happiness— I almost resented her for making me reflect on myself so often. I almost resented her for making me think about feelings, which— I’ve told you before— never mattered much to me.

That’s not true. People can easily develop the habit of saying, ‘That doesn’t matter,’ when they really mean, ‘I don’t understand. No matter how hard I try, I can’t understand.’ I am somebody who would rather say, ‘That doesn’t matter,’ than admit a shortcoming. I don’t like that about myself, but I don’t know how to change it.

That’s my problem. It always has been. It was never fair to blame Lei for any of my discomforts, but I often thought that if she wasn’t always trailing so closely behind me, then I wouldn’t always have to monitor the nature and extent of my attachment to her, and then my headache would have gone away.

Of course, the headache never could have fully subsided when Chanyeol was so determined to speak into my ear. After Lei joked on some variety show that I was her ideal type, Chanyeol developed an annoying habit (which he has not shaken to this day) of calling her my girlfriend.

Evidently oblivious to my tense mood, Chanyeol laughed while driving his elbow into my ribs. “Here comes your girlfriend!” The veins in my temples throbbed. “She’s really growing up, huh?”

His jokes— especially the ones about Lei— were never funny, so I cut my eyes at him. “No.” I shook my head. “She’s not that grown up. She’s only fifteen.”

Because I had never before bothered to respond to his jokes, Chanyeol blinked his widened eyes at me. He probably would have told me to lighten up, and — despite feeling all too aware of my overreaction— my scowl would deepen, but neither of us had the opportunity to resolve our conflict.

Blissfully innocent, Lei approached me with her smile that wasn’t dim even away from the stage lights. She would have looked nothing like the child who was my first friend at S.M. were it not for the dimple that formed in her chin as she rose her hand to wave at me. “Hey, Sehun.”

I wanted to say that she had performed well; that I wished we spoke more often (and less frequently in these dark, stiff, professional settings where I couldn’t quite breathe or feel much like myself); that I was proud of her for becoming a star who demanded everyone’s appreciation; that I was honored to share a stage with her because (aside from being a star) she was my friend; that I, somehow, deeper than words could ever convey, regretted how much had changed— even if change was inevitable, even if change was only temporary, even if these growing pains would someday be forgotten.

I couldn’t say anything over the lump in my throat except something stupid that I wish I had never said at all. “You can’t keep following me like this, Lei.” My arms were still crossed over my chest. I must have looked like such a jerk.

Lei’s smile didn’t fade at first. Maybe she was too shocked to understand what I said. Maybe she couldn’t quite hear me over the backstage chatter. Maybe she was too willing to forgive me even when I hadn’t apologized.

“What?” Her tone was still bright, and I could have pretended that I said any of the many praises I held in that innermost— or was it outermost?— part of my mind.

I probably justified my cold tone with the thought that I was teaching her an important lesson. “You can’t follow me here. Somebody is always watching.”

That was true enough. I should have bit my tongue then. Her jaw dropped just slightly, and I could make out the formation of her blush in the dark, but Lei nodded as if she believed me. As if she trusted me.

Although it wasn’t true, and I had never once felt this way, I tore my eyes from her and said again, “You can’t keep following me. It’s annoying.”

That’s when she wheezed, and Baekhyun pouted, and Jongin’s brow furrowed, and Chanyeol’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and I dropped my jaw. I couldn’t understand why I said that. I couldn’t understand how my voice could so easily say something that I didn’t mean.

All I can think is that I was somehow trying to illegitimize Chanyeol’s stupid joke about her being my girlfriend, but that’s stupid. This is one of those cases where ‘why’ really doesn’t matter. No reason would have been good enough to justify the look I put on her face.

Instantly, I wanted to apologize, but suddenly— too late— I couldn’t speak. My throat was too tight. I couldn’t even look at Lei; with each glance, my heart plunged deeper into my stomach and knocked my breath away.

Selfishly, I prayed for her to break the silence. Without considering her discomfort, I was content to let her cross most of the distance between us if that meant I didn’t have to hurt myself to learn how to say sorry.

Seconds that felt like eternities passed. So quietly that I almost thought I was imagining her voice, she said, “Okay, Sehun.”

I wished she would have argued like she always did because— then— I probably would have crumbled and said anything I thought might set things right. It wasn’t right to expect her to break my pride, but I was disappointed that she only bowed without saying another word.

It made me sick to realize that Lei bit her tongue (at least in part) because she knew that somebody is always listening. Somebody is always hoping to catch us at our most vulnerable. Her lips trembled, and that dimple in her chin deepened, but she said nothing to convey her wounded emotions, and I—

I couldn’t tell myself that I taught her something she didn’t already know unless I wanted to start believing lies.

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Baekhyun steered her away. His voice was softer, kinder than usual as he cheered, “Come on, Lei! I hid some snacks in EXO’s dressing room!”

And she didn’t flinch from his touch, and she didn’t look back at me, and I don’t know why I was dumb enough to expect that she would.

I tried to release my remorse through a sigh, but no matter how many times I filled and emptied my lungs on the aimless walk through backstage halls, I could not forget the way Lei sounded so— so unlike herself when she, for the first time, accepted my words without argument. Why had she chosen then, of all moments, to be obedient? Why, when she had every right and reason to debate, had she turned her cheek with no fight?

Nothing was her fault, yet I explored every avenue of thought that would deny me accountability until the nagging desire to apologize became an urge, a compulsion, a dire need that sent me running to the dressing room where I wouldn’t find her. I only found Baekhyun sitting at his vanity with earphones plugged into his phone.

Never before had I succumbed to the boyish instinct to throw things in rage, but I — at the adult age of twenty— yanked a metallic round brush sitting atop the nearest vanity and hurled it at a mirror. Miraculously, the mirror hadn’t shattered, and Baekhyun didn’t look up from his phone or flinch at the crash.

I could have pretended that moment never happened had Chanyeol not burst into the room right then, bulging eyes burning through me as he demanded, “What the hell was that about?”

Whether he was talking about the brush incident or the Lei incident, I had no answer. I didn’t worsen matters by stuttering excuses. I just shrugged.

“That kid liked you!” Chanyeol said— past tense— as if I hadn’t known. “And I thought you were friends or whatever, so why the hell would you put that look on her face?” Tugging at his hair, he dramatically cried, “God, I’m going to have nightmares about her sad face for weeks!”

“You’re really not the best person to lecture me about how to treat Lei.” I glared at him. “You’ve put that frown on her face more times than I can even count—”

Chanyeol yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” and he was right. “I get it. I’m not nice to that kid. I never have been. Maybe I should be a little nicer.” I nodded my head, and he jabbed an accusatory finger at me. “But I couldn’t turn the light off in her eyes like you just did even if I tried. You know why?”

Turning away from him, I shook my head because I didn’t want to have this conversation. I knew exactly why I could influence Lei more than Chanyeol ever could. I just didn’t understand it.

“Because she doesn’t like me! She likes you!” Chanyeol’s voice cracked. “She probably thought— like I did— that you would protect her feelings even though you can’t return them!”

I stared down at my hands pressed flat against the vanity, careful to avoid my reflection. “Why are you so invested in something that isn’t your business?”

As if he had always been Lei’s protector, Chanyeol roared, “You made it my business when you humiliated her in front of me! It’s not okay, Sehun! Even if you were right about people always watching, what’s wrong with them seeing that you’re kind to a kid who, for whatever reason, thinks the world of you?”

Never in a million years would I have wanted to discuss my feelings— especially the ones about Lei that, for some reason, seemed far too private and deep and tangled— with anyone. I especially wouldn’t have wanted to discuss them with Chanyeol, who didn’t even like her, while he was angry. I would have said or done anything to end the conversation.

I rounded on him and raised my voice. I hated raising my voice. It was exhausting. “You’re the one who made shit weird and awkward by calling her my girlfriend! I don’t even want to be around her anymore because of the weird shit you say!”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Chanyeol retorted instantly. “If you’re having some kind of issue with your friendship, don’t pin that shit on me!” Then, when I faced him, he softened his voice. “I don’t know why you’re being so weird about a joke—”

“Because it’s not funny!” My face burned as I tried to make him understand, “My feelings for her are nothing like that! Lei is a sweet, innocent kid, and everybody is forgetting that because she’s getting more famous and more beautiful by the day, but I—” I swore— “she will always be that funny, honest, gap-toothed kid to me.”

Unsure of what to say as my gaze dropped down to my feet, Chanyeol blinked once and then twice. He probably wanted me to explain why it was so important for Lei to remain the child in my memory, but I wouldn’t have told him even if I understood it well enough.

“If you love her so much,” Chanyeol said, “then why would you ever say anything to hurt her?”

I couldn’t answer. Instead of admitting that I didn’t know— that I was an idiot— that I was sorry— I lashed out at him. “I don’t love her! I just— I care about her a lot.” I sounded like such a moron.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed, and I squirmed because I knew that he was seeing me clearly, flaws and all, for the first time. He looked away, picked at a button on his shirt, and probably felt like the wisest guy on the planet as he said, “I’m not sure who told you what love is or how they convinced you that it’s bad or wrong or scary, but they lied.”

Making my way to the door as my pulse quickened, I lied. “I’m not afraid of love.”

Maybe I didn’t know it then, but I was afraid of intimacy. I was afraid of needing somebody. I was afraid of wanting somebody. Maybe I didn’t know it then, but the reason why Lei couldn’t grow up was because then— then what would I say when she looked at me and told me that I was handsome? If she grew up, and she still wanted to hold my hand in the dark, I could no longer push her away, saying, ‘You’re too young. It’s inappropriate.’

Lei couldn’t grow up because, once we stood on even footing as adults, I knew that she would realize that I wasn’t special. I had never been special. Once I disappointed her by admitting that even when she was old enough, even if we felt the same thing at the same time, I wasn’t good enough, everything she ever thought of me would be chalked up to some childhood imagination.

Once or twice or every moment of those days, I almost managed to convince myself that the best choice was to stand some ways away at least until I learned to be okay with the inability to live up to her daydreams. I almost believed that, to preserve the memories that were too precious to tarnish, it would be best to part ways before I could disappoint her. It was too late to enact that plan, though, I realized as I again walked through the halls.

All my life, I told myself that it didn’t matter what others thought of me, but it always mattered what Lei thought. Even when she was nine and I was fourteen, I didn’t really want her to stop liking me. Did it matter because of who she was? Or was I— like everyone— too afraid to wonder what happens when she, who always admired me, changes her mind?

Something in my chest deflated when I found her leaning into Max outside of TVXQ’s dressing room, rubbing at her eyes. I understood by then that she knew everybody, so I wasn’t shocked to see her with him. I just couldn’t quite breathe because I had always been the one she ran to. I had always been the one she trusted with her feelings. And being as stupid as I was, I understood then that she would probably never again trust me so fully, so innocently, because a.) she was no longer a child, and b.) I had broken some facet of our bond.

Nobody wants to believe that they have broken something beyond repair, so I told myself that our friendship was indestructible. I don’t know if I ever believed myself again after that.

Something like rage coursed through my veins when I heard Max ask, “Now, are you going to tell me what made my little wife cry?” He smiled at her, and she mirrored his expression.

Rather than embracing my guilt— rather than feeling grateful that somebody kind had been there to lift her spirits when I couldn’t— I decided to glare at Max for calling her his ‘little wife,’ knowing well that it was a harmless nickname and that he had known her longer than I had.

Still grinning, Lei lifted her head, and— unable to budge from my place around the corner— I braced myself to hear her new opinion of me, but she said nothing. Graciously, she shook her head, and Max didn’t press her for information.

Even after I had been cruel and careless enough to publicly scold her in front of my group members, Lei wouldn’t privately paint me in an unfavorable light. I think I might have felt better if she had told Max that I was the most insensitive person on the planet even if she didn’t believe it— even if she was just speaking from embarrassed anger. The fact that she stood from his side, bowed, and walked away, forcing a smile even as she passed by me— tears refilling her eyes as I met them— made me feel worse.

I still can’t understand why I didn’t follow her. I guess I didn’t want to see her cry. I know how selfish that sounds, but you should believe me when I say that I wouldn’t have been able to say anything to dry her tears. If anything, I would have made matters worse.

While I lacked the courage to follow Lei, I somehow had the nerve to storm up to Max, my senior who I swear I respected. I somehow had the nerve to tell him, “You shouldn’t talk to her like that,” as if he hadn’t tried to clean up my mess.

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” His head went aslant, and his eyebrows met between his eyes as he noted my short tone. I still think it’s a miracle that he didn’t knock me out the moment I opened my mouth.

This might sound stupid, but I think I almost wanted Max to beat my ass. It seemed that maybe a few slaps would knock some sense into me or that my guilt might subside if somebody would punish me for being an idiot.

“You shouldn’t call her your ‘little wife,’” I said, using air-quotes, earning a pointed stare from Max. “She’s very impressionable, and she’ll get the wrong idea from things like that. You have to be careful with young girls’ feelings, especially when they trust you.” My voice made me want to vomit. I was really one to talk.

After drawing a deep breath and carefully studying me, Max nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said even though I wasn’t right; I was an idiot. “I should be careful about what I say, but sometimes— sometimes you’ll say anything to get someone to stop crying. Sometimes, you’ll say anything to make someone smile.”

Doubting that I would ever be willing to say anything to make Lei smile, I sank.

Max flashed his teeth, smiling as he patted my shoulder. “I’m glad Lei has somebody like you looking out for her.��

Somebody like me? What did that mean?

“She deserves every happiness, you know?”

I nodded because I did know.

That day planted the seed of a realization that dawned on me slowly over the years and then— suddenly— all at once when I sat alone on a frozen December night: I was the worst person for Lei to entrust her feelings to.

A selfless person would encourage her to find somebody who could warmly embrace her every joy and pain. Somebody who could easily string together the words she longed to hear. Somebody who would boast to the world that they loved her instead of running and clinging to privacy in the dark. Somebody who wouldn’t be too embarrassed by romantic gestures to give her flowers. Somebody who would watch the moon and stars with her while gently dispelling her every fear.

I knew well that I would never be anything like that person. Daily, I told myself that it was foolish to be jealous of somebody who didn’t exist, but—

He did exist. The issue was just that, even as years passed while I held my breath, she had not yet met him. The day when she would find everything she wanted in him was the day I dreaded most because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to him.

And I— I wasn’t a selfless person. I was selfish enough to pray that day would never come.

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1000-directions · 6 years

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Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

tagged by @imlouisaf <3

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

o jeez, they were all really short but i published 14 stories on ao3 altogether

even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right

spinning on that dizzy edge

a praise chorus

lay your hands over me (written before everything else on this list but posted to ao3 months later as a backdated work)

baby, here we go again

i don’t care, i’m not scared

amsterdam without you

show me you can handle this

girl crush

she’s a good girl

see where this thing goes

boy, make me believe

are you that somebody?

part of your world

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

this is hard because i’m proud of different stories for different reasons. some of these i just never would have thought i was capable of writing, and that feels awesome. but i’m going to go with even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right. writing this felt like torture sometimes, and by the time i published it, i’d spent so much time up close inside it that i couldn’t tell if there was anything good or redeemable about it at all, and i was embarrassed to even show it to anyone else. but when i read it now, i’m really pleased with it. i like the different relationships in the story, i like my use of flashbacks to sketch in backstory, i like the way louis and eleanor use sex in different ways to illustrate the complexity of their relationship. i love the interplay between past and present, and i think overall it has more emotional complexity than anything else i’ve written. i poured a lot of myself into it, and it sucked, and it was hard, but i’m so happy with how it turned out. also, i got some really amazing feedback about it, especially from people who were not sold on the idea of real-life elounor but found this portrayal sympathetic. i really loved being able to change some people’s minds and get them excited about louis’ real relationship.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

lol fuckin spinning on that dizzy edge 😩😩 my most kudos-ed work currently and probably forever, rip me. it’s not even a story, it’s literally just me describing louis in two different outfits, i think it took like an hour to write, it’s just...not...anything? i know that i’m too hard on this story, but actually, i’m nOT!!!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

i do like this little paragraph from boy, make me believe, part of the louis/bebe truckstop au.

She didn’t know it could be like this. When she’d imagined her sexual future, she always thought it would be the same sort of adequate sex she’d been having before, just with progressively older guys, until she married one of them, and then they’d get older together. She’s only ever been with boys, is the thing, and Louis is such a man that’s she giddy with it. He has a job and a family and a kid. He knows a trade, and he lives alone in his own house, and he can fix mostly anything. He’s muscular and strong, and he smells like beer and cigarettes most nights. He’s all grown up and self-sufficient, and he knows who he is and what he wants. And he wants to worship her, and he knows how to do that, too. She didn’t know there would be gentleness. She didn’t know there would be selflessness. She didn’t know that being manly could still leave so much room for being soft.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

you know, it’s so funny to look at the kudos counts for the truckstop au, because they’re so much lower than i realized. and that’s because every comment i’ve gotten on that series has been so thoughtful and excited and loving and kind that it makes me forget that that series is SUPER NICHE and almost no one read it. but the people who did read it were just amazing and supportive, and even just a handful of people buying into that world and getting excited about it and talking shit out with me in the comments and helping me develop that world more and consider things differently than i had before, it was really just the best most rewarding thing.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

every second of writing that pig dog story was torture, especially as the deadline loomed closer and i still had almost none of it written. and also especially because i was really inspired at that time to work on my louis/briana story, but i didn’t have time, and i resented having to work on this one instead. i reread it today, and i swear it’s the first time i’ve actually even liked it. writing that story was brutal.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

writing two stories with harry as a narrator was a weird surprise. i really love writing through or about louis. i’ll read lots of different pairings, but it’s hard for me to get excited about writing a story that doesn’t involve louis. so i really didn’t expect to enjoy writing my hamille stories so much, but that’s been such a fun relationship to explore, and i expect i will write more of them next year.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

my philosophy this year has mostly been to only write what i want to write, and i mean both in terms of pairings and in terms of actual content. i don’t like writing plot and backstory and worldbuilding and all that shit, so i just...stopped. and i really focused in on the bits that i do like, the internal monologues and little scraps of dialogue and emotions and sensations, and i think it made my writing sharper and more concentrated. i think i reduced a lot of filler this year and really focused on writing undiluted, strong emotions and metaphors. if something was boring or dragging, i skipped it. i know that’s not for everyone, but it many writing much more enjoyable for me personally.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i would like to try some new pairings. this is weird, but i’ve never really written a true nouis story? it feels like i should have, but i haven’t, and that’s something i wouldn’t mind tackling next year. also, when i first started out, i didn’t feel comfortable leaving canon behind because i worried that i didn’t have a strong enough grip on my characters yet, and i feared that if i started writing AUs or whatever, my characters would become unrecognizable. but i’d like to keep venturing out and trying new worlds and tropes. i want to write more trans characters. i’d like to write an ace fic. i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

jeez, everyone? you know what, i’m gonna go ahead and single out @alligatornyc as someone who doesn’t write but is such a positive and uplifting reader. if you get on her good side, she will make you feel like the greatest person who ever wrote a single word, and that is such a rare and wonderful gift. @mildlymaddy is also really phenomenal about showering her friends with amazing comments and feedback. @queerlyalex more than anyone else i’ve ever known is just...super positive about encouraging people to be creative and do whatever makes them happy, and they are so celebratory about whatever you end up producing.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

louis’ depression in even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right is my depression. also, this from see where this thing goes is 100% me dropping out of school and being ashamed to tell most of the people in my life:

“Do you figure you’re going to head back home?” Jay asked when they were both finished eating, and Bebe imagined what that would be like, to give up after so much planning. She remembered the going away party they had thrown for her at the old diner, the balloons and the cake and the card they’d all signed for her and the gas station gift card they’d all chipped in for, only forty bucks but it melted her heart that they’d all believed in her and wanted her to go off and be a big star. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face those people again until she became someone, and her eyes welled up with tears just thinking about it.

“I can’t go back there,” Bebe had said.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

there is room for you to write the kind of stories you want to write. you don’t have to follow those “avoid these writing mistakes” posts that drive me fucking crazy. show don’t tell? who cares. if you wanna tell, then tell, it’s your story. people get very focused on word count and writing every day and forming proper habits, and if that works for you, good, and if that doesn’t work for you, that’s good, too. if forcing yourself to write every day makes you feel shitty and inadequate, then don’t do it. if writing when you’re uninspired feels bad, don’t do it. you don’t have to do this the way everyone else does. you’re doing this FOR FREE. it should feel good. if you’re not enjoying it, figure out a way to do it differently.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

louis/bucky barnes is a thing, and it is happening, and i am getting really excited about it. louis/briana is happening. cis girls hamille is probably happening. more truckstop au will hopefully be happening. trans louis is theoretically happening, but that one is only just starting to coalesce in my mind. and once louis’ album drops, i’m sure way more elounor will be happening.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

i hATE TAGGING 😩 if we are mutuals and you wanna do this, tag you’re it! please tag me in your response. if we aren’t mutuals are you wanna do this, tag you’re it! please tag me in your response. fair warning tho this thing takes F O R E V E R to do

#goodbye 2017 #year in review #writing #me me me #tag i'm it

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