#first chapter edits are done...and my hopeful goal for tomorrow is at least two more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

The Five Stages of Grief

Stage five: Acceptance (5/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Thanks to @zhuzhubii who helped me so much with this series and made this gif for me 🥰

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage five is acceptance.

A/N: Can’t believe my first series on here is done!!! I’m not gonna lie you guys this chapter is super emotional for me- I no joke cried the whole time while writing it and while rereading to edit. I basically have been going through the same thing recently with my Nana. This chapter is very close to my heart and is definitely the most personal chapter for me. The whole series is actually heavily inspired by season 3 episode 19 -one of my favorite episodes of criminal minds- and I also used elements from season 3 episode 15. This also kinda helps explain a lot of my writing choices throughout the whole series if you’re curious. I did my first real attempt at foreshadowing in this series, I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for all the love and support on this series- with a special thanks to @spencerreidsmiles and @andiebeaword -you all have been so lovely and amazing.

Warnings (All warnings for the whole series are on series Masterlist): Sad Spencer, References to past drug use, References to past suicidal behaviors, Small panic attack, Hopeful Spencer, Unreliable narrator (much less so in this chapter)

Main Masterlist | The 5 Stages Masterlist Word Count: 3.5k (longest chapter)

It’s been a year; One full year since they had died in my arms. One full year since they had been shot so cruelly by a heartless unsub in an alley. One full year since I had been graced with their presence and the sound of their voice.

The elements of my emotions were extremely complex according to my therapist, and surprisingly I found myself starting to feel the benefits with them more every time I went to an individual session or a group session. It was hard for me to realize that I would have to learn to accept my situation.

It was hard to learn how to understand my own emotions when I had been so willing to shut them out, to try and convince myself that they didn’t exist.

I had begun to learn that I carried around the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday. But, now I somewhat accepted the fact that they would always be with me, or at least I was trying to.

I had to learn to accept.

Even if it hurt I had to learn to at least try.

The next goal I had been given by the therapist was the most daunting of my tasks yet in my opinion. Trying to convince myself to open the boxes in the corner of the bedroom I had once shared with Y/N was harder than trying to get clean. The thought that had propelled me forward into getting clean was that I felt as though I would be disrespecting Y/N by not staying clean. They had been the reason all those years ago that I had spilled the clear liquid down the toilet and I needed to do it again, if only for them.

The boxes were something that were easier to ignore. I could ignore them by turning my back to the stack of boxes, choosing instead to stare at the painted walls of my apartment instead. There was no reason for me to stop ignoring the boxes, no one was trying to pressure me to open them besides my therapist. Everyone else in my life had no expectations for me to open them at any time, if ever, including Y/N’s family.

But, it had begun to feel like maybe I could try to attempt to open the boxes. I wasn’t sure what had finally prompted my brain into thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing to stop ignoring it. I stopped trying to understand why my mind works the way it does long ago, I had poured enough time into my life thinking about that.

I had felt this overwhelming urge to be able to look back at things that once belonged to them with some semblance of peace. I wanted to enjoy the memories we had together once more. I was tired of letting the memories get soiled by the unsub, I deserved to still think back on the one that I loved with a smile. I deserved to be able to preserve their memories with happiness and not let them sour with sadness. I wouldn’t let the unsub be able to kill something else while he was behind bars, my memories.

I was ready.

I was ready to open those boxes.

I was ready to at least try.

I was ready to try and look back at the memories.

I wasn’t going to let their memory die too.

My first attempt to open the boxes in the corner of my bedroom consisted of me staring for two hours at the stacks. I knew that I at least wanted to try to attempt to open a box, even if it was the smallest of the bunch.

That day I had gotten the lid of one of the boxes open. That was as much as I could handle emotionally in that moment. There was a small part of myself that wanted to push myself to look inside the box, but I couldn’t do it that night. That night I laid down on the bed, again facing the wall, unwilling to look at the boxes. I knew if I did I’d feel as if I had failed and I had to keep trying to convince myself that small progress was still progress.

I tried again despite the swirling anxiety in the hole in my chest.

I was still willing because I still wanted to have my memories unsullied by sadness.

I still knew that I deserved that despite my volatile elemental emotions threatening to push me into another toxic loop.

The next time I tried to look in the box I had previously opened just a little I immediately got choked, recognizing the contents sat at the top surrounded by other smaller insignificant items. I only managed to grab one of their old tchotchkes that used to sit on their desk in the bullpen. It was insignificant enough of an item that it didn’t make me fall into an endless loop of my emotions. I clutched it all night while I tried to sleep, though I still faced away from the boxes.

I hadn’t given up yet I still wanted to try, if only for them.

I would still try for them, even if I didn’t succeed, I still felt better for trying.

It had taken me awhile to muster up the courage to look at the box again, even though I still wanted to try I was scared that the contents would be too much for my fragile psyche. What I had gotten a glimpse of at the top of the box was something that used to be important for Y/N.

The next time I tried to look I successfully managed to pick up the item that had triggered the painful memory in my mind. It was ironically, it was another box.

The box wasn’t something that was explicitly tied to memories that we shared together. I knew it to be a music box from their childhood, given to them by someone that had meant so much to them. Out of curiosity I cranked the knob on the side and slowly opened the lid, wondering if I could handle the sounds of a song that I had often heard every time they had opened it to listen to the twinkle of the box they cherished.

As soon as the beginning notes of Swan Lake floated into the air I slammed to top shut, unwilling to open up the box of my emotions all the way just yet. I knew I couldn’t get rid of it, it was too important of an artifact in Y/N’s life. Though I knew that this wasn’t something I could keep to myself, this belonged to Y/N’s family. I clutched the box for a second in my arms when I came to the realization that the trinket should be with someone else as if it would be cruelly ripped from my arms right then and there. I felt a little fire being stoked in my belly at the thought of people taking it from me, even though there was no one there in my lonely apartment with me.

I started a breathing exercise that my therapist had told me to use when I felt like this. No matter how much it pained me to admit it, it did help immensely in snuffing out the emotions when I could feel them begin to spiral out of control.

I couldn’t let myself fall into an endless loop of volatile emotions again. I had worked hard to get clean after I had started to write my amends. It had been a hard uphill battle even after I had written down my amends, my grief hadn’t magically gone away that day. Getting clean had been much harder without my rock and the person who had helped me get clean the first time around. I wouldn’t disrespect their memory by going back to dilaudid again.

Once the initial fear began to fade and my breathing had grown steady I forced myself to loosen my grip on the music box. I then carefully set it down in a place that would be suitable enough for a stack of things I’d pass off to other people that had been important to them. I hoped I’d soon be ready to make a donation pile despite that I despised the mere thought of giving something away that belonged to them to a mere stranger.

It was already too much for today, I could only bear looking at the one item. I didn't know how I’d be able to handle it if the box was filled with more trinkets that were important to them. I did however find myself thinking when I laid down on my bed for the night after a hot shower to relax my mind. I found my mind thinking about the trinkets they’d had an affinity for collecting. It still brought tears to my eyes to think about giving away their stuff, even if it was to people who also mattered in their life. But, I found myself thinking about their old cute little trinkets without as much pain, though it was definitely still there.

Maybe tomorrow when I try, I’d do better.

The small box that I had begun to unpack over a series of days didn’t hold anything else seemingly important to Y/N’s life. Besides the music box I had found prior, the small box was only filled with unimportant trinkets that thankfully didn’t spark much meaning in my mind. It was obvious that when the team had initially helped me to put their stuff away until I was ready that things had been put away in a slight haste. They must’ve done it so quickly as a way to try and help me. The animosity that I had held towards my team for the last year because of Y/N’s death had been slowly melting away over time. I still wasn’t as friendly as I had been before, but I knew my frigid nature after the event hadn’t been justified. I knew now that they had only my best interests at heart, even if they didn’t always pinpoint what they were correctly. I had even begun to regain some of my desk duties once I had gotten clean. It had felt good to feel somewhat normal even though the sight of their desk directly across from mine and their still empty round table chair still made my heart pang with grief.

I had even begun texting them more frequently again, though I was still aversive to text, so I guess it still wasn’t that often. Some things really do never change despite the fact that my life had turned on its head in the past year. I had even begun to write letters to my mom again.

I knew I was lucky to still have people by my side, even if it wasn’t the one I knew deep down I still wanted with me.

I thought I could have at least done the box without crying anymore.

That was until I found something at the bottom of the box that made the dam holding my memories back in my mind break to flood my mind. The book would probably seem inconsequential compared to the rest of the items that I knew sat in the other boxes. Most people would assume after just looking at the surface level what items of Y/N’s meant most to me, the ones I wanted to keep. The black paper back was well worn around the edges, almost like if I read it too frequently and I wasn’t too careful that the spine would break. I ran my fingers up and down the battered book as I began to willingly reminisce. To other people the book would’ve looked beaten already beyond repair, maybe as if it had not been loved enough, battered perhaps because of neglect.

But, just like me I knew that Y/N had loved the book more than most people would be willing to.

I knew that I wanted to keep this book, no matter how painful I knew their contents would be for me. I hoped that I’d be able to read it so much that I’d be afraid for the binding of the book, just to be able to feel close to them again. Though I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to dig up this particular memory, it might still be too painful for me.

I remember they had bought this book for us after I had connected with a grieving father on a case. He had specifically quoted a poem to me that stuck with me for weeks after. Once I had told them of the excerpt quoted to me they had immediately grabbed a copy of where it had originated from, a long Wordsworth poem. The book “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” became their favorite quickly, in fact it used to take residence in the top drawer of their nightstand. They had often loved to read me their favorite excerpts at night just before bed when my eyes couldn’t stand to focus on the pages anymore.

When I opened the well worn book it flipped open to where they had set their bookmark last, I recognized the excerpt immediately. My breath got caught up in my throat when the words danced around in my vision. I wasn’t sure if I could face this specific excerpt quite yet, or even be able to read any part of the poem. The book held so many memories of them. This specific poem held so much meaning to the both of us.

However, there was something in me that wanted to try. I wanted to be able to read the poem again and remember the memories we shared fondly. I wanted to be able to enjoy my memories with them. I had come to realize over the past year that their memory deserved to be nurtured with fondness not overwhelmed with sadness.

So, I decided to try.

The memory’s attached to the excerpt immediately began flooding back even as soon as I read the beginning words. The bookmark had landed on the page that had been quoted to me by the grieving father, the words holding even more meaning in my life now than ever before.

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my-“

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, so much so that I had to stop reading for a moment to wipe my eyes. I didn’t know if I wanted to continue, just those first few lines were already weighing heavily on my mind. I was already focusing on the radiance that had left my life forever. A radiance that was once so bright, but was now snuffed out, forever taken from my sight. My sorrow was creeping in with small little waves in my mind, I just had to hope that it wouldn't drown me. I didn’t want to get stuck on an endless loop of emotions again, I had just gotten fully clean a little while ago.

Even though I was feeling intensely emotional over just the first few words I wanted to keep trying. I wanted to read this poem and smile. I wanted to be able to look back at our memories with love, to take back what had been polluted by the acts of a heinous man. Once I had somewhat collected myself and my thoughts I began to read again from the beginning of the excerpt-

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,”

My entire being could not help but ache as I read the words, still aching for the presence of the one who had been forever taken from my sight. When I reached that part that I remembered asking the grieving man about all those years ago, the words held an even deeper meaning to me now than I ever thought possible. There was nothing I could do to bring back the hour where I was still in my lover’s embrace. I wanted to be back in the moments of splendour in the grass and glory in the flower, I knew that soon I’d have to fully accept that it wasn’t possible.

Again I had to wipe tears from my eyes before continuing to read the stanza. This time a few tears dribbling down onto the pages, marking them with my sadness forever no matter if it dried into the parchment or not. I continued to read the page despite the saltwater that continued to drip down my face,

“We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind”

I felt a small watery smile creep onto my face, it had been so long since I had remembered to smile with sincerity. I was thinking about some of the times they had read this to me as I tried to drift off into a most likely restless sleep. Though I had always slept better when they read to me. At the time the words hadn’t meant as much to me as they did now, I now had a permanent connection to the feeling of grief that would never be erased. For the first time in a long time thinking about them didn’t hurt as much for a moment, I actually smiled, even though it was rather watery. No matter how small or sad the smile was, I was still smiling. And, I knew in that moment that Y/N would’ve been proud of me.

I pondered on the stanza’s meaning in a deeper way than I had done before. The things stated in the stanza about how I would gain strength from this situation made me contemplate what Y/N would’ve wanted me to do after their death. They wouldn’t want me to give up as I had done before, they had always wanted the best for me. They would want me to gain strength from the situation.

They would want me to grow from the pain that sat in my chest.

They would want me to move on, to accept.

I didn’t know if I’d ever find someone else that I’d ever love as much as I loved them. I didn’t really ever want to, I had found my true love already. Maybe one day I’d find someone to fall in love with again and if I did I knew they would be happy that I was able to move on with someone else. Even if I ever did move on with someone else there’d always be a part of my heart that belonged to Y/N. For now I was ready to move on in a different way. I was ready to live my life without them, by myself.

The trauma of losing them would always weigh heavily on my soul, I’d carry that with me until I rejoined them in the earth. But, I was now ready to keep living, if only for them. I felt less guilty now since I had grown to realize that they’d want me to try and live the rest of my life as fully as I could. They’d want me to try and find happiness. I didn’t know if I would ever truly find it again, whether it was on my own or with someone else.

They may have been forever taken from my sight, but I found comfort in the fact that the radiance they brought into my life would always reside in me. Instead of letting the deep hole in my chest gape until the hour of my death, I’d let it fill with the radiance of their memory.

I was ready to try.

I was ready to try even if I knew the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday would sometimes take ahold of me again no matter how hard I tried.

I’d always carry those emotions with me, but I knew I was ready.

“Nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.”

I knew I was ready because their memory would always be with me to give me strength and to guide me. They’d always be there to help me try to live the rest of my life peacefully.

When I slept that night I faced the boxes while clutching the book to my chest.

Even though it still would always hurt on some level, I was ready to live in a reality where I could accept.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens @day-n-night-dreamer @reidbuck

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid series #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #5 stages of grief series #5 stages of grief

111 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N Well, here it is. The last chapter of Ginger Snap. As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out. There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me! This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways. The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it. Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own. To stand on my own two feet, as it were. Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February. This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time. As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying. The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air. Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass. It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed. It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed! I fucking passed!” An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster. Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan. I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.” My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare. Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not. The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely. “Ye’re gonna do great. When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.” The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands. Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season. Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms. The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple. I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home. There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home. With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process. It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately. Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi. How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother. Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice. I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not. Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian. We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic. Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.” I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly. “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams. Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal. As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands. At my left hand in particular. Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?” I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied. “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well. It was the most I could hope for, really. Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother. Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him. I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed. Says the right woman is worth the wait.” She paused before adding, “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester. It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support. For once she didn’t reply immediately. There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts. I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you. I think about you every day.” A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send. At least I hadn’t woken him up. A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist. Hello. How are you?

I tried to picture him. Was he at home? Working late? Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright. Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry. Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass. Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man. I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end. And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text. Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie. I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good. I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow. It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass. It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone in this. Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?! It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie. The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one. Not a second longer. I’m just... what if I fail?

And there it was. The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did. What if I failed? What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me. You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef. It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you. I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right. But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright. That helps. I should let you get to bed. Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire? Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat. Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze. I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass. Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken? I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area. Jenny was on the phone. She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in. I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting. I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk. I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves. Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber. He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet? There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it. I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me. Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils. You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.” More sigh than word. He slowly turned. It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him. It was still there, after all these months. That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began. “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor. This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued. “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am. How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed. This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another. Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret. Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods. My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart. Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There. It was said. A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free. Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist. Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

77 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter. This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out. Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night. Again.

And she shouldn’t be. She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake. Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror. She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her. She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it. She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy. “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was. The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?” Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.

That brought her back down to earth. She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter. “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone. She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine. “Did they sneak girls into the hotel? Prostitutes? Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant. They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue. They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity. How’s that for a scoop? “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again. She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve. “You want something? Okay, here’s something. Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice. “I can’t lie, Alec. I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here. They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story. If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life. That’s it,” he said, hanging up.

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back on her morals. She couldn’t just…betray her friends. Her family. Her work family, but her family nonetheless. She had to stay resolute. She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not. She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not. She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not. She was going to prove him wrong. She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent. She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast. She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait. “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it. But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass. “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed. “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began. “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal. He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding. He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from. “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it. I can’t write it. None of it would be true. Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow? I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled. “And he doesn’t get that? How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon. “But…that’s my issue. I’ll figure it out. I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled. “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon. She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast. He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table. Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers. Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second. “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye. “You can say the words Aberdeen. It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do? Like, how should I act? What should I say? I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed. He set down his flatware and brought his hands together. “I think being there physically is good,” he began. “Like, just being a presence. Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk. Don’t bring it up unless we do. Some guys are more open. Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it. You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support. I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys. I know how important this is for all of you. I know how hard you guys are working to get it done. I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently. “And I’m not just saying that. Trust me. They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call. They were lying in bed together. Virtually. As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed. Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble. It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered. “I got a call from Alec today. He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him. I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine. He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought. Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare. Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes. “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip. “But enough about me, Willy. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” he said, giving his own shrug. “I’m not nervous or anything. I just…I know what I need to do. I know what we need to do. We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here? That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked. William nodded his head. “That still stands. Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly. “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week. Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her. “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious. “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me. I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah. Same shit, different day. I’m always the scapegoat. I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday. I just don’t want you getting upset. I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy. I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly. “But none of that matters. All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play. It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™. It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed. She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion. Everything in her was just…empty. She couldn’t feel a thing. That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.

That was when the tears started. She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him. It was Jason that she cared about. Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching. And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down. Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her. She couldn’t discern his voice. He wasn’t giving a command. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry. But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy. He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow. But they didn’t. She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming. She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel. Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them. Of course it was. The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves. She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet. That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise. It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her. When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s. He looked so defeated. So broken. For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now. Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill. After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech. She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say. “Pack your bags tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season. A wonky start. A shitty coach. A coaching change. A loss to their own Zamboni driver. A fucking worldwide pandemic. A bubble. The media was never on their side. And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low. “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability. We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him. Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team? “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze. So he was angry. And he was taking it out on her. “Fine,” she huffed. “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel. There was no point. Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her. “What? You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated. “It stays between us. In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am. It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him. She’d have to give up. Not that she wanted to. “Well, I love you. I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject. “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too. This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. She rose up immediately from her bed. “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped. She took her phone off her ear. “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed. She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall. “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears. She took a deep breath before she opened the door. When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room. She was shocked. “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern. The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth. He stopped when he noticed her. “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said. “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen. Meaning the players. You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful. My entire life. I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win. And growing up, I adored this team. And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing. I love them, too, but in a different way. Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs. And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted. And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory. And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said. Aberdeen understood completely. “None of…this is about you, of course. This is about the team. This is about promises that we make to each other. Promises that we make to ourselves. Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land. This is about the integrity of our character. The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent. Brendan was bearing his soul to her. Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart. She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say. She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen. I think you always will be to these boys. You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently. “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said. “It’s still there. They still have it in them. Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags. Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus. She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.

Fifteen days in the bubble. And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her. She spun around to face him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you. Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen. She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen. Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed. She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway. “D’you want to go out? You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested. “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows. “Do you think I’m the soul of someone? Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless. “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone. You know I believe in the concept of soulmates. Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face. “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone. “Jen would love to have you over. I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone. Jason Spezza was deflecting. This was not part of their original conversation. “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively. There was no beating around the bush. “But you will be. At your own pace. And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over. And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh. “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call. “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said. “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s. He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other. Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest. Hockey was still on in the background. Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him. Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere. She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her. “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said. His comments were still on her mind. “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head. “I do. I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first. Needy. William needed her. He needed to be comforted. His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night. So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch. There to console him. There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time. Such a long time. It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him. But who was she kidding? He always did. He always savoured his time with her. It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time. By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too. So puffy. So soft. In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it. She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh. She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story. I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him. “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm? I love you no matter what happens in there. I love you Willy. I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I need you. Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question. She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss. “I need you. I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth. This is what he loved most about their physical relationship. They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time. They could have regular sex. They could explore a new position. They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble. They could have close, intimate sex like right now. Each time was incredible. Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him. They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth. The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears. “I need you, Willy. I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she. Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear. “I need you more than anything,” he whispered. “You’re my entire life. You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke. She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day. They played video games. They watched Brooklyn 9-9. They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies. It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket. She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother. Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah. He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again. She was shocked. Shocked. She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen. Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts. For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends. She knew it would hurt William to see him leave. That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today. He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up. “Why? Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute. To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade. She let him think so. “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone. “Let’s just go. You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone. PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too. Another Swede. Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it. She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street. A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up. “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door. And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea. “There you two are,” her mom smiled.

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up. He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself. It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask. And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden. I don’t want to have to quarantine again. I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie. “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam. That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner. When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up. Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying.

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry. They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time. It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade. I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off. Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft. “I love your family. They make everything better.”

She smiled. “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said. “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares. It’s Cam being so cute. It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas. It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating. But she didn’t, because she wasn’t. She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy. “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly. “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up. “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly. “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm. It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey. “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you. Who’s Saylor Greene? Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside. “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.

Camden handed it over. She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh. Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her. Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough. Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name. How the hell was she being dragged into this? She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations. Saylor was naming her without naming her. Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about. Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video. She felt sick. She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know. She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen. She looked at him. “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said. “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head. “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled. “Now you really can’t go on there again. Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal. Now come here,” she extended her arms.

Camden went in for a hug. “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her. Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message. I’m taking care of it. And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck. “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated. TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his. “I’ll be done within the hour. I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss. “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [[email protected]] Cc: Beth Zadakis [[email protected]] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [[email protected]] 23:15 08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience. Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text. I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article. If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life. I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected. However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.

186 notes · View notes

kurodachimagic · 3 years

Text

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fic #mine

6 notes · View notes

st-agatha-city · 3 years

Text

St Agatha Gazette, Issue #2 🐇

Hello, citizens of St. Agatha - we meet again! Welcome to our second ever weekend update! Things have been choo-choo-chuggin' along! 🚂 Been taking it a little easier the past couple of days (though not on purpose, and not by choice >:P) due to finally getting my second vaccine and coming down with symptoms disorder.

On a bittersweet note, I just had a job interview that went well! So yay~! I might soon again be able to work, and worry less about rent and other fun things! ^^ But this could mean updates will be slowing a little - and I do mean as little as I can help it! Working on St. Agatha City has been such a positive force in my life!

Alrighty, on to the updates!

Traffic

With the exception of yesterday, the usual three hours per day have been successfully spent plugging away at St. Agatha City! A lot of the usual writing, coding, and art, but also researching the more complex features I hope to implement! A map system (which I will be showing off a little tomorrow~), an inventory, and a phone with a basic call function, so you can contact characters you bond with throughout the game, and maybe instigate events that way. Out of those three, though, the latter is on the lower end of priority, but the first two are confirmed and in development :)

I've been making use of the developer communities, as well as Ren'Py (the software I'm using to make St. Agatha City) forums to reach out with my questions to more skilled (and very kind, patient) users, who have been an absolutely huge help!

And thanks to alpha testers like my boyfriend, and our very own community member, @sugarcoatedsadism, things have been progressing nicely! Edits are being made, and new content is being added almost daily.

Weather

Enjoying the sun, citizens? I know I have! From inside, coding, at least ^^ It looks like it's due to be cloudy this upcoming week, at least through this weekend. But good news! With the map mentioned last week being slowly but surely being implemented, I will happily be turning my focus to an inventory system, as the new navigation system develops.

And, most excitingly, with more places to go, there will be more characters to meet! Expect, as my time allows, new character intros, art, and places around St. Agatha to be revealed!

Sports

The end of last week marked a big play, sports fan, and a big win! You'll be hearing more about this tomorrow, at noon, but I can show you a messy little sneakpeak of the basic design!

Now, it looks... a little rough at the moment, as it is only a placeholder example for me to experiment with, but with new research happening shortly, I'll be designing something that resembles the intended product relatively soon, which will be a lot closer to what is released with the finished game :)

You will be able to preview some of the locations that will be available to you to explore, interact with other characters, and answers to the different questions Pixy's time in St. Agatha causes.

I am super excited to go over it with you guys, with a more detailed fly by! See you at the game! Go... team...!

Closing Thoughts

I am happy to say that, after a week, I am still at it! St. Agatha City is progressing consistently, and just earlier this week I was able to release enough content to do an Alpha Demo Test with some friends, and get Chapter 0 looked over by an editor. It's small, but I am proud. I admittedly have a history of instability that has caused finishing projects to be difficult - but commitment to St. Agatha City is a point of pride to me. Creating it has helped me feel a sort of peace I really haven't before.

Speaking of Chapter 0 - once the map is done, all that's left is some writing, sprites, art fixes, and some final touches! Maybe, after some editing, I could release it as a demo for the public to try! :) that would be an amazing stretch goal. I think then I could feel confident opening a ko-fi perhaps, as I would now have an actual product that has been delivered, and more on the way!

Thanks again, for all of your kindness, support, and excitement. Stay safe out there, citizens! And have a great weekend!

~ Fairyfly

#st agatha city #st agatha gazette #visual novel #dating sim #game development

8 notes · View notes

merinnan · 3 years

Text

Fic Tag Game

Grabbed from @hils79, because it looked like fun.

Name: Merinnan, which I’ve gone by for... fifteen years now, I think? Prior to that, I mostly used Calicia (and sometimes Zoi).

Fandoms: Like Hils, I’m only going to list the fandoms I’ve actually written fic for.

Star Trek: My very first fandom, and the one I’ve written the most fics for (so far - I suspect that DMBJ will overtake it. It certainly already has in terms of word count). I was (and am still) primarily a DS9 fan, and was a huge Kira/Dukat and Garak/Bashir shipper back in the day. Most of my Trekfics are DS9 fics, but I also dabbled a little bit in TOS and TNG, and had one or two crackfic crossovers that involved Voyager characters. Discovery has tempted me with a few fic ideas, but I haven’t written anything for it yet.

Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon: aka, the show that first had me seriously questioning my sexuality. Look, Haruka and Michiru are #goals, don’t judge me. This is also where my Zoi name came from, after the first season villain Zoisite, whom I cosplayed several times. Unsurprisingly, my main ships are HaruMichi and KunZoi. Despite this fact, neither of my published Sailormoon fics are HaruMichi.

Bubblegum Crisis Tokyo 2040: A short-lived fandom, but one I still liked enough to write a fic for and get the OST CD.

World of Warcraft: I wouldn’t say I’m really part of the fandom, per se, but I’ve been playing since the dying days of Burning Crusade, am a huge lore nerd, and started writing a crossover fic that is currently on indefinite hiatus. I do plan to come back and finish it, but first RL got in the way, and now I have to try and remember where I’d actually been planning to go with it.

A Court of Thorns and Roses: That crossover fic I just mentioned? Yeah, this is what it’s a crossover with. ACoTaR fandom went sleepy for awhile, but it’s back up and kicking now that A Court of Silver Flames is out - if any of you are still following me, it’s great to see everyone active again! To the surprise of no-one who knows me, I’m a big Nessian shipper.

Mo Dao Zu Shi / Chen Qing Ling / The Untamed: I came to this fandom via ACoTaR, actually, after a certain person (hi, @rhysand-vs-fenrys!) wouldn’t stop gushing about it :-) This is the fandom that really and seriously got me back into regular fic writing again after 15-ish years. I’m a multishipper here, and have written / am writing WangXian, NieLan, XiCheng, XuanLi, and XiSang.

Guardian / Zhen Hun: MDZS fandom led me to Guardian, which, along with DMBJ, has devoured my life in a way that hasn’t happened since my Star Trek days, and I love it! WeiLan is my major ship, but I’m also quite fond of the DaMian life raft.

Zhu Yilong: Yes, I’m going to list a person as a fandom. Zhu Yilong is one of the stars of Guardian, and is both incredibly pretty and an incredibly talented actor. So much so that I have suffered through some truly terrible dramas just to watch him in them. I do not write Z1L-fic, since RPF of living people is a personal squick of mine, but I am working on a massive crossover fic of most of his characters.

Mo Du: Guardian led me along to more of Priest’s works, such as Mo Du, which is now officially my favourite book, and I adore the main WenZhou ship. The Mo Du fandom right now is pretty tiny, and I’m still working on my first fic for it, but I hope that it will grow with the donghua due out this year, and the drama having just started filming.

Daomu Biji / The Lost Tomb: I initially came into this fandom because of Zhu Yilong, who played Wu Xie in the Reboot / Reunion / Chongqi drama, and then I got sucked into the fandom pit of all of the books and dramas and spinoffs, and it’s wonderful and fantastic. I have written so much for it, and have so much more planned. PingXie and PingXieSang are my main ships here, but I’m also a HeiHua fan, and very much enjoying the RiSang pool noodle that @kholran created.

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort and crack are my major ones.

Fic I spent most time on: A toss-up between Endings and Beginnings and Reunion, both DS9 fics. Endings and Beginnings is an alternate ending to the show, while Reunion is a Gul Dukat-centric fic set around, oh, season 5ish? Both were written for and initially published in print fanzines, so in addition to time spent writing, there was a lot of back and forth for editing, etc.

Favourite fic(s) you’ve written: Look, I honestly couldn’t say. I like most of the fics I’ve written, and there are several that I’m really proud of and really like.

Fic I spent least time on: Silent Graves, a super angsty DMBJ/Lost Tomb Xiaoge fic. I think I wrote it in like 15 minutes.

Longest fic: Cat’s Paw, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang canon rewrite fic I co-wrote with @xantissa, at 247 826 words. For fics written by just me, not with a co-writer, then that would be Nevermore, my WIP MDZS/CQL XiCheng Pacific Rim AU, at 22 276 words and counting.

Shortest fic: Every entry in my DS9 Drabbles series, with each one at exactly 100 words. Although if you count them as a quintdrabble, then Indiscretion (a DS9 missing scene vignette about Gul Dukat, set during the episode of the same name) at 169 words.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks/subscriptions: The answer to all of these is either Cat’s Paw or Nevermore, so I’m going to give the next highest.

Hits: Those who fear darkness have never seen what light can do, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie supernatural AU fic co-written with xantissa.

Since this fic also takes the highest kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions after Cat’s Paw/Nevermore, I’ll skip to the next fic along on each of those.

Kudos: Stars fall like diamonds, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie missing scene fic from Reboot/Reunion/Chongqi.

Bookmarks: A Knight in Bloody Armour, another DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang supernatural AU fic (but a different supernatural AU) co-written with xantissa.

Comments: Ears and Other Related Calamities, yet another DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang supernatural AU fic (of a different again supernatural AU) co-written with xantissa.

Subscriptions: The Rescue Job, a Guardian WeiLan Leverage AU, currently at one chapter complete and posted out of a planned five chapters.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: We have plans for a prequel and a sequel to A Knight in Bloody Armour, and a spinoff fic for The Zhang Identity (a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie AU that is complete but not yet posted. It will be posted in April as part of the Small Fandoms Big Bang).

Share a bit of a WIP: This is from an as-yet-unnamed post-canon fix-it fic for the Guardian drama:

It was hurting again. Zhao Yunlan curled up into a tight ball under the hospital blankets, trying to ignore it enough to try to get back to sleep. He knew it wouldn't work, because he couldn't remember a time when it ever did, but it was always worth a shot, right? He squeezed his eyes shut and held himself tightly for a few...moments? Minutes?...before grabbing his stuffed cat and clutching it while he forced himself to breathe deep, slow breaths the way the doctors back in Spring City had taught him.

Eventually, the pain died back down to its usual dull ache, the one that was bearable and let him play, and watch TV, and do school lessons with his mother. One day, she said, they'd find a doctor who knew what was wrong, why he hurt all the time, and the doctor would give him medicine that would keep the worst pain away so that he could go to an actual school and meet more kids than the ones who lived in their apartment block or who frequented the same playground that he liked to go to.

Zhao Yunlan tried closing his eyes again, seeing if he could go back to sleep, but he was far too awake now. He sighed, sitting up in bed and looking around the room. Again. It was just like the hospital rooms in Spring City, and in Kiyota City. He figured that if the doctors here in Tomorrow Mountains couldn't help, his parents would take him to yet another city, and the hospital rooms there would probably look the same, too.

Then, over the faint beeping of hospital equipment, and the quiet murmurs further down the corridor of nurses at the nurse station or seeing to other patients, he heard a soft sniffling sound, like someone was trying not to cry too loudly. He picked up his stuffed cat and looked at it.

"What do you think, Dead Cat?" he asked it. "Should we go and find them?"

Dead Cat didn't answer, of course, but that didn't stop Zhao Yunlan from assuming that it agreed with him, and slipping out of bed. His feet touched the cold tile floor with barely a sound, and, still holding Dead Cat tightly, Zhao Yunlan padded over to the door. He looked up and down the corridor, then left his room to track down the sniffling noise.

He wasn't surprised that it came from the next room. He was surprised that it came from another kid, a boy who looked to be about his age, huddled in bed and wiping his eyes.

"Hi," Zhao Yunlan whispered. The other boy looked up in surprise, then stopped to clutch his chest as he began to cough. Once he'd finished coughing, Zhao Yunlan and Dead Cat were perched on the end of his bed.

"I'm Zhao Yunlan, and this is Dead Cat." He held up Dead Cat, moving one of the paws to wave hello. "What's your name?"

The boy wiped his eyes again. "Shen Ye."

I tag: ALL OF YOU! Are you a writer who hasn’t done this yet? Consider yourself tagged if you want to be.

#fanfic meme #dmbj #daomu biji #guardian #mo du #star trek #ds9 #bishoujo senshi sailor moon #sailor moon #mdzs #cql #acotar #bubblegum crisis #world of warcraft #zhu yilong

18 notes · View notes

deardragonbook · 3 years

Text

A quick life update

So, I came onto to Tumblr today to edit some of my drafts (I currently have 13) and throw them into the queue. It’s the first time I’ve allowed my queue to go down to zero in a while so I thought I’d take advantage of this moment to give you all a quick update of where I’m at.

So, still managing the daily uploads! I thought with uni it’d be harder but I’ve managed to stay on top of things for now.

However, it’s worth mentioning this week will be my last week of just uni, because from next week as well as uni I have a paid internship (it’s for a research center specialising in ethical economics and I’m so amazed that I have been given this opportunity!) but of course that’s going to take a lot of time away.

Currently I have 13 drafts, plus several ideas, including a post about covers and the process I had, one about your character’s outfits, a couple of list ideas... trust me, ideas aren’t my missing resource.

I’m really happy to see my followers and interactions are slowly growing here on Tumblr, but as an author who has to prioritise self-promotion, if I have to prioritise a daily upload it’s got to be on TikTok (because it’s the bigger site and people are more often moved to action, don’t ask why, social media magic is it’s own kind of witchcraft).

My story Oppida Institute for Reformation still hasn’t missed an upload, but I don’t have tomorrows chapter ready, so after twenty three weeks tomorrow might be my first miss. Just know I’m not abandoning it and it will get there soon. Again, priorities.

Sales for the first book have staggered, as expected, haven’t sold a copy in about three weeks, haven’t had any unlimited reads in two. But I have received my first ratings which is very exciting!

I had my first beta reader to finish the entire second book and I definitely have to touch up the beginning a little to help newer readers, but she really enjoyed it other than that and it was a huge boost in confidence!

Especially her pointing out in several occasions how much she love done of my own fave characters who I wasn’t sure would resonate with others. Or being told my protagonist is a well done balance between strong, feminine with complex emotions, the way she said it almost bought me to tears, I was so happy.

A lot of beta readers straight up haven’t shown up yet, so I’ll probably be searching for a couple more soon because otherwise it’s going to be really difficult for me to do a summer 2022 release like I plan. But, goals will be goals.

I think that’s all.

Sorry if this came out a bit rambly, or if it came out on the less positive motivated side, I’m extremely tired so things are what they are.

I’m not going to edit this post as it’s not advice, it’s just... update.

But things are really cool right now, I’m really enjoying writing about writing. I’m looking forward to having time to read a bit more, looking for having the money to support fellow indie authors, looking forward to a lot of things, some will come sooner than others, but that’s always the way.

As usual, check out my socials and book here.

How are you doing? I hope you have time to write or at the very least read. But if not, I hope it’s because everything is going really well and that’s keeping you busy. If still not, I hope things calm down soon. I wish you the best of luck, and remember, life is full if ups and downs but, even lightning strikes can be beautiful and the calm comes both before and after the storm.

#rambling #ramblings #lifeupdate #life update #author life #author #authors #indieauthor

2 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 3 years

Text

I am very sleepy. I didnt sleep great again last night and while I was able to hold it together all day, I seem to just fall apart at night. It sucks. Im trying my best but it is hard. I just want to get the most out of my days you know?

I did have an alright morning though. I woke up a little before 8 and laid in bed for a long time. I got up and washed and dressed and felt alright. James had made me breakfast. He decided not to sign up for any teaching shifts so he could do chores here. So he was doing some laundry this morning. I sat in the livingroom and had my breakfast sandwich and watched some videos.

What I really wanted to do was some art. I got a sock loom in the mail last night so I started to attack that idea. At first I was not doing it right. Its slightly different then the circle loom. And I thought I was using the wrong yarn for it but eventually after I watched a few minutes of video I got the hang of it. And my goal is to finish my first pair of socks by the end of the week. I really hope I can figure it out. I would actually spend most of today working on that. Mostly the kids were in class or otherwise preoccupied. So I could just have my little hand work project going and it was all good.

So I spent my morning doing that. I tried really hard not to have leaving early anxiety. Its hard. When I got over to the site I would have a conversation about it with my manager and she said she doesnt think she can make the 1pm shift change, but 2 days a week we could work with with eventually moving me to a noon start time. So well see how that goes. Im a little more confident. Honestly even just starting at 1130 might help me. I dont know. Well see. It felt good to have the chat about it though.

The actual work day was honestly pretty excellent. We had two new kids and the one was a complete sweetheart. He's 6 but we have a lot in common. Well more I was aware of more internet things that he liked. And at one point he told me that he had never met someone that like the same things as him. And when he got back on his class he told his teacher he made a friend and I honestly could have cried. Both of the new boys, they are brothers, were a little fragile and quick to big emotions. But I got them. And it was nice to be a good force and a positive adult for this little guy.

He kept saying I was his bff and I helped him make a bracelet with his name on it, and he said it was beautiful because I made it. And he said I looked like the daughter from Hotel Transylvania and I was like yes but a little chubby and he got all serious and said "No. You're perfect." So he's my best pal now.

There was a lot of art happening today. I think the kids like the art table a lot. I have like 3 or 4 projects for them to try and they just do their thing. And We played in the gym for a bit too. At the end of the day we watched a movie about a super powered squirrel and that was fun. I got a lot of my sock done then. Its honestly just about done and I will figure out how to finish it tomorrow and get started on the second. Im pretty excited about this new skill. I hope to make everyone socks for christmas this year. So at least Ill have a lot of time to work on them.

At the end of the day it felt like we had a lot of kids. We brought them back to the gym to run out some energy. Ended up having some neighborhood kids join us. James was waiting for me in the parking lot so I was like. Itching to leave. But I tried to be present by talking to one little girl about the dragon fanfiction she's writing and helping her edit her first chapter. Which honestly, is pretty good already. I hope she lets me read the whole thing.

Once the kids were gone I got my stuff and met James outside. I was hungry but we had plans to go buy some gardening thigs. So off we went to the rite aid.

We got potting soil and some pots for the plans that have gotten to big. And some little snacks for the house. And then it was home for dinner.

We had a frozen pizza for dinner. I kept working on my sock. It was a good time.But it was also really cold in here. So we had a space heater going and I started having an upset belly. I think its cause I have a little bit of a headache. So now that it is late and this is done, I am going to take a shower and get in bed. And I hope that I can just sleep easy.

Tomorrow I hope to have a productive morning. Wish me luck because its hard for me still. I hope you all have a great day though. Take care of yourselves. Goodnight!

3 notes · View notes

theastrophilearchitect · 3 years

Text

Reworking the plot & getting my hands dirty.

Writing journey #2.

Sat 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 19.38 So, a month ago, today, actually, I started writing a book. For context, I've sorted out scenes and planned my plot; I'm now simultaneously writing my first draft and outlining scenes in more detail - I'm just into act two of my draft and just into act three of the outline.

I included today in my first writing post, which you can find here, but, while outlining, I realised something that will result in a major plot change (even though I probably should wait until revisions, it sorts out the climax I'm currently incredibly vague on, and will help me actually be able to complete the draft), and felt it was time to start a different post, because the other one was long, and already had its own focus.

Previously, I've been setting mildly insane word count goals, and even though I'm sticking to vague targets, I'm going to drop that, because I need to do a major plot change, and that'll mean the word count isn't going up that much for a while.

So, I have my first and second acts good, but while outlining act three, I've realised the event at the start of act three would work better as a climax than the vague battle idea I have. It just seems more original, more effective, but it means I need to shift events around and re-figure the first block of act three. I'll begin tonight, but it's already 8pm, so I'll probably do most of it tomorrow.

Sun 07/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,365 08.24 I'm reworking act three, and I think I may just drop drafting for the moment and focus on incorporating the edits I have in mind, then start drafting over. I know all the advice says not to go back and edit, but this is a big change I can't wait to do, so it seems opportune to just make the others, too.

08.31 I've now finished reworking act three, and I'm much more satisfied with it than I was before. I do now need to go through the scenes again, however.

13.57 Still re-scening. This is frustrating, but I've decided when I'm back to drafting, I'm going to drop my daily minimum to just 500 words - even though I'll make very little progress at that pace, it's more realistic considering I'm about to be plunged back into the world of homework and commuting, and it's something I'll always be able to meet to help me keep in the habit of daily writing. Word count isn't applicable when I'm doing re-scening like today, though.

Something else I've noticed, when I'm writing literally anything, I'm just scribing the words I'm literally hearing in my head, which is a little bit of a problem because where I wrote 'meet' just now, I meant 'meet' but heard 'eat' in my head and wrote 'eat'.

17.07 I feel like I'm finally making some progress - I've been writing on-and-off all day. My word count has actually decreased a couple hundred words since yesterday, but Scrivener is convinced I've written 42,000 words today, which I obviously haven't. I've typed a lot of words, but not that many, not all of which added to that since deleting words takes words off that number. It thinks I've written so many, however, because I duplicated my act one folder twice (then deleted it, obviously, because I don't need three copies of the same act) but Scrivener doesn't take off the words when you delete the file, only when you literally hit backspace.

17.50 Sorting out my climax, I'm realising how bad it was before. Which I guess is good, because it shows internal criticism and growth...? Or something...?

21.04 I've totally planned out the majority of act three, but I haven't finished it because where I'm up to ends with my characters essentially making a game plan, and since I'm not yet sure what that game plan is, I can't outline the bit where they carry out the plan, but I'll do that later. I've incorporated some of the edits I wanted to make, though I've left a couple out because they're less drastic and I'm not sure whether or not to include them, so I'm going to sort that either during or after my first draft.

Since I've made quite a few changes that will affect the parts I've already drafted, I'm going to start my draft over, and reset my word count, but I'll do that tomorrow. For now, Scrivener thinks I've written 42,385 words today, which I absolutely have not, and my word count is currently 28,365, but I'm going to remove every outline and drafted piece I've done so I can start from zero for what I'm going to call draft #1.4, because I already wrote a version of about 40% of it.

God, my word count has gone back to 0 of my minimum 50,000. That hurts. It really hurts. My actual goal is more 70-90K, but 50K is my minimum, so that's what I'm going with for now.

Anyway, goodnight, and good luck me.

Mon 08/03/2021 - Word Count: 820 So, I wrote 820 words before school, then got home, attempted to do some homework and lost all motivation and will to do... anything. Which means I'm very glad I did over my 500 words this morning.

Tue 09/03/2021 - Word Count: 1,367 15.07 I called this a #1.4 draft, but it's more like a #1.3. Anyway, writing is so much less stressful when I'm working from something I've already written - with the first section, so far, at least, I'm basically just editing the writing itself rather than the events because I'm pretty happy, at least at the moment, with my first couple chapters. Very little thinking required.

Also, it's been over 30 hours since I've written because I did my writing before school yesterday, but haven't written yet today because I've got so much work to get done for school. It feels like it's been forever.

16.17 I've finished rewriting chapter one, and still have a lot of fuel in my tank (that's a hideous metaphor) but I think I'm going to cut off today at 547 words, just because I have quite a lot on my plate this week, and I'd like to invest some time in actually reading the book I started eight days ago, and am only 200 pages of the way through.

Wed 10/03/2021 - Word Count: 2,082 I could write significantly more than 500 words most days, but it really is easier to set a minimum that doesn't feel like a strain, so that's what I'm sticking with for now.

Thu 11/03/2021 - Word Count: 2,801

Fri 12/03/2021 - Word Count: 3,405

Sat 13/03/2021 - Word Count: 32,211 07.40 I've just had nothing extra to say the last couple days, which is ironic considering how much I wrote each day of the last post, which went up yesterday! Anyway, it's finally Saturday, and even though I have exactly zero motivation to do anything this morning, I've been awake for two hours already (I recently discovered I like mornings??) and I think it's time to get going. Still sticking to my 500 word minimum, but since it's Saturday, I'm going to invest most of the day in writing, so I should surpass that.

08.20 I don't think I've mentioned yet that I dubbed this WIP Bay Tree in this post. Sorry if I have, but I skimmed this post and can't find it. So, this is about to get messy. I'm basically just cleaning up my prose, but there's so little point doing that when I'm not certain each scene will stay. There's no point editing a chapter unless I know it's sticking around.

So we're reverting, and this is about to get messy. I didn't quite finish my initial draft of chapter seven, because I wasn't sure how exactly the event at the end of it would happen, but I think I'm just going to delve into it. I'm going to add everything, including outlines, back to my word count, finish writing chapter seven, then pick up where I left off in chapter nine. Okay. That's why my word count is jumping around.

And, just like that, I've gone from 4,074 to 28,864. Well, 500 words accomplished. Surpassed, in fact, by just 24,290.

I'm going to aim to just hit 30K by the end of this weekend. I can easily do 1,136 words in two days.

As I've mentioned before, I haven't outlined all the way to the end and through the climax--I have a fairly clear idea of how I want it to do go down, but I'm not sure what I want the characters' plan to actually be, so I currently have 21 chapters, but I'm projecting 23-26, which, at about 3,000 words each, is pretty damn good, especially when it'll just get longer as I redraft (she says optimistically).

Already feeling more motivated now my word count's higher.

09.54 Oh! Also, I logged onto Tumblr today to find someone reblogged my last writing post with a really positive, encouraging comment. It's nice to think I'm bringing someone else a little joy with this.

11.13 And we hit 30K! I'm not quite done for the day, but I do need to go pack. Also, I've been operating under the impression the minimum word count for a novel is 50K, but it's actually 40K, which, though I'm only about 40% of the way to my projected total word count, I'm officially 75% of the way to being able to say I've written a novel.

I'm so glad I've gotten as far as I have, and I just hope I can keep myself going to the end.

12.27 This post is going to look really strange to read - if you're only looking at the word counts, it looks like I've written nearly 27K words today. That makes sense.

Oh, and I finished chapter seven. Like an hour ago.

13.52 At this point, I have literally no idea what continuity things I've already established, so I'm just going by a let-my-future-self-suffer philosophy.

14.36 That's chapter nine done. That leaves chapters 10 to nobody-knows. I'm going to stop writing now, but I wrote nearly 4,000 words today (plus recounting about 20K) so I don't exactly think this cut-off will be detrimental.

Sun 14/03/2021 - Word Count: 35,548 07.58 I’ve written over a thousand words already, and it isn’t even 8am yet. Being a morning person is genuinely the best thing ever as an introvert--I’m asleep when people want to socialise, and awake when no-one else is. That makes me sound like a hermit. I love it anyway, and feel like I’m stacking up for a good writing day. 35K is probably a little overambitious, but what’s life without aspiration?

09.04 As I’m going, I’m realising my plot is actually coherent, and being surprised that I can actually make a story without plot holes (as of yet.)

09.21 And that makes the first eleven chapters drafted!

...And, Houston, we have a problem. Dammit. Eleven chapters, and I haven’t established one of the most important world-building points. Which is especially irritating because it needs to be established by chapter twelve. Unless I can establish it at the start of chapter twelve? We’ll go with that, so I don’t have to go back, then I’ll sort it out in edits or draft two or something.

I’ve just started writing chapter twelve, but I think, having written 2,600 words today already, I need a break. I have less than 500 words until I hit 35K, but I’m going to leave it for now, and come back this evening. I should be able to hit 40K this week.

18.19 And that makes 35K. Chapter twelve is only two scenes, and I’ve written one, but having written 3,000 words so far today, I’m going to leave it until tomorrow.

Mon 15/03/2021 - Word Count: 36,337 17.19 So there’s a crucial plot point just after my midpoint, and I’m not completely sure what to do. I mean, I know what I’m doing--I just wasn’t sure exactly how I wanted it to go, but now I know. The issue is other stuff needs to be pre-established, and I’ve worked out where it needs to go, but I don’t know whether or not I want to go back and write those bits now, or just make note of it and add it in draft two.

I think I’m just going to make note, plough ahead, and deal with it in draft two. I’m trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to operate after this draft: things generally say put it down for a few weeks, come back for edits, then go into your next draft, but I feel like I’m already going to have so many edits gathered by the time I reach the end of this draft, I should just go back into it, but time will probably be beneficial. Not that it actually matters now. I’m only just halfway through an under-draft (by that I mean it’s going to get a lot longer). I’m going to add new scenes in my next draft and generally fiddle with plot aspects, but as quite a linear writer, I think I’m more naturally inclined to just incorporate aspects in a draft rather than as edits. I’m not sure. Does that even make any sense?

Depending on when I finish this draft, I think I’ll plan to pick it back up May 1st, and just see how I’m feeling. But, again, this all depends on when I finish the draft, and how I’m feeling when that time comes.

Tue 16/03/2021 - Word Count: 37,025 I bought my Scrivener license today! Yay!

Wed 17/03/2021 - Word Count: 38,408 08.04 This is mostly irrelevant to my project, but I just wanted to mention the odd fact that I’m definitely a plotter when it comes to longer pieces, but when I do shorter pieces, creative or essays, for school, I hate planning, and just start immediately, then go back and edit. Huh.

Thu 18/03/2021 - Word Count: 38,950 I’m going to edit this, but writing the date just now I noticed I’ve put 2019 for the last three days. It’s absolutely not, and I know why I did that, but still.

14.31 Also, Oxford commas? Found out what they were. Granted, that was actually a few days ago.

Fri 19/03/2021 - Word Count: 40,139 06.55 Even though I wrote 500 words yesterday, I didn’t quite reach my goal of 39K, just because I had to stop writing 50 words off, and by the time I had the opportunity to go back, I just wanted to go to bed. So, today, my goal is to hit 40K words, and officially be able to say I’ve hit the minimum word count for a novel.

Honestly, I’m starting to lose my love for this project. I’m still enjoying working on it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m anticipating finishing it because I know exactly what I want to write next. I feel like I’m mostly still working on it as a lesson, and I know it’s not what I ultimately want to write--mostly because it’s not super high-concept, and high-concept stuff is what I want to be writing. I am still enjoying working on it, I’m just not sure I’ll get to the ‘final line-edits’ stage. But who knows?

10.19 And that marks 40K. We’re in novel terriority, people. And, yes, I could correct that spelling, but I’d like to draw attention to how bad I am at spelling when typing. I’m excellent at spelling in writing, and wrong spellings bother me, but when I’m typing, my fingers are just trying to keep up with my mind, which means I try to type a letter and the one after it at the same time, and often end up with letters in the wrong order and punctuation in the wrong place. Or I just hit halfway between two keys instead of the key I’m going for, and type a wrong letter. Anyway, that was meant to say territory. See? I can spel..

Or I just double the punctuation instead of the last letter.

So I’m definitely not meeting my old goal of 80K words or a finished draft by the end of the month--that’d be another 40K words in just 12 days--but I’m definitely on track to finish by the end of April.

Sat 20/03/2021 - Word Count: 40,692 15.30 God, second acts are hard. I hate being in the middle. At the start, you have novelty, and at the end (not that I would know from experience) you have the knowledge you’re near the end, that you’ve already written most of it.

I’m currently operating the reminder, ‘You’ve written an act before, why not again?’, in hopes that’ll eventually extend to, ‘You’ve finished a draft before, why not again?’ and ‘You’ve written an entire book before, why not again?’

I’ve literally written 243 words so far today, and I just don’t want to. Normally, I sit down, I slog through the first hundred or so words, then pick up momentum. Maybe it’s just because chapter 13 is a boring part to write. Ha. 13. Just my luck.

I’m being nice to myself because a lot has happened in my life over the last few days, but I still want to write a minimum of 500 words, even though most Saturdays I can write more like 3,000.

21.41 I’d like to be asleep. That sounds like fun. Today slipped through my grasp, and I haven’t even written 300 words, but I am going to try to at least hit 500. And then maybe write thousands and thousands tomorrow, but I’m also going to bake a cake, and I’m notorious for being able to make cooking and baking take at least three times as long as is necessary.

21.57 So I got just past 500. Relatively speaking, that’s not that impressive for me, but it’s more words than most people in the world added to their manuscripts today, so I have to give myself some credit. (I’m working on crediting myself for productivity rather than degrading myself for not being productive--I could go on for hours about how much it pisses me off that capitalism teaches us productivity=worth in everything, not just business, but I’m going off on a tangent.)

Sun 21/03/2021 - Word Count: 41,466 08.08 Cakes baked! And I’ve come to a conclusion about how irritating I am to myself--I didn’t fully outline the latter half of act two (by which I mean I have each scene and a purpose of each scene, but virtually no detail) which I can absolutely cope with, but it does slow me down. Anyway, I’m waiting for my cakes to cool, then I can ice them.

14.28 I wanted to write up to 42K this weekend, which I don’t think is going to happen. I’ve written 774 words, so passed my 500-word minimum, but haven’t yet reached 42K, and don’t think I’m going to this weekend. I just don’t have much motivation, which may just be because of the part I’m on, but I’d rather work through this part really slowly then pick up the pace when I get to the part I want to be writing, than force myself to write this section quickly and poorly, then not want to continue into act three. So, sticking to 500 words a day; I may do more later, but I’m leaving it for now.

Mon 22/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,006 17.56 God, I don’t want to write today. I’m going to anyway, because I haven’t yet failed 500 words. They can be a shitty 500 words, but they have to be 500 words. Also, the scene I wrote yesterday? Absolutely getting deleted. But I’m leaving it for now because I refuse to lose those 800 words.

I really enjoy putting edits at the bottom of scenes in brackets and making them unnecessarily wordy so Scrivener thinks I’ve written significantly more words than I actually have.

18.31 Yay, did it. I’m really hoping I can just work through this low spot and don’t have to take a break. I’m on the penultimate chapter of act two, and the first few chapters of act three are really exciting, so I’ll know if I need to take a break based on whether I get motivated when I get to that part.

Tue 23/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,124 16.37 GOD, I need a break. I don’t have motivation, even for 500 words. You know what? I’m just going to make a note of the scene idea I had earlier, and I’m going to take a week’s break. Unless I get antsy, in which case I may end it earlier, but, I’m not going to write again until Tuesday the 30th. Unless I get antsy. FUCK.

I’m just reminding myself breaks are good and important, but I still hate that I’m taking one without finishing my first draft. Tue 30/03/2021, I will be back! Though my word count may increase between now and then as I note down any ideas I have, which I will update with. Okay. Just leave it.

Sun 28/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,150 10.47 Since Tuesday, I’ve made some notes on my phone of little things I want to change, but haven’t added them to my project file, so the word count hasn’t gone up.

Last night, I was just thinking about how badly I wanted to get back to this project, but this morning, I just... don’t. I’ve been thinking it through, and I’m not ready to drop this project yet, but I’m just not happy with what I have at the moment. So, I’m going to add my notes to the file, and then leave it for a few weeks, so I can return with edits in mind, apply them, and then start what I guess will be like a 1.7 draft, because I didn’t finish this draft.

In the meantime, however, I do want to keep writing, so I’m going to start another project in the meantime, which I can work on a lot in the next few weeks because, in a few days, I get a couple weeks off, which won’t be completely free of work, but will give me a lot more time to dedicate to this.

I think I’m going to say I’ll return to Bay Tree (or at least review, if, say, I just want to dedicate a little more time to whatever phase of the new project before I move on) on May 10th, because that’s basically when I get to relax after my exams finish.

So I’ll add the notes I have so far, keep making notes on my phone, and return on May 10th.

Which wraps up this writing update--a new one will come with my new project!

1 note · View note

firjii · 5 years

Text

Alternative goals/approaches to strict NaNoWriMo that might be obvious but I'm saying them anyway in case they’re not

Yes hello again, it's your friendly neighborhood "wild horses couldn't drag me back to writing and yet I do still write sometimes" recluse.

Given how often I've talked about the physical (not just psychological) toll that extreme amounts of writing can take, y'all can probably guess my opinions on NaNo: it's an admirable concept but no way in hell would I ever participate. Aside from a joke or two, I usually go a bit quiet when that special time rolls around again because a) I'm not your mother, and b) my specific personal experience is a fairly extreme example of burnout (so for all I know, there are people out there who cheerfully finish NaNo without incident).

But I know that setting goals, practicing an interest/hobby/skill, and making progress are still, y'know, important and very human things. NaNo is very serious business to some people. To some of us, it can even tread somewhere near a pseudomeasurement of job skills (the jury’s out on that in practice, but since some of y'all do actually write or edit for a living, I get it).

So instead of trying to dissuade people from trying NaNo, I humbly suggest these alternatives (especially if you haven't done this event before).

Do a "half nano."

A lot of people start strong and can manage until the halfway mark but get stuck or tired after the first 2-3 weeks. Variant: stretch the halfway goal out over the whole month.

As someone who actually has plenty of free time to write, I promise that 50k words in a month is really, really pushing it even in the most optimal circumstances (when I was completely unemployed, I'd commonly spend at least 5 hours a day 5-6 days a week on writing and still only got anywhere near that kind of number...maybe twice in 5 years??). I understand that the minimum length of a finished novel does tend to be at least 50k words and the hope is to basically write a whole book in a month, but a lot of people don’t hit 50k anyway. Some of us can deal with 25k in a month just fine. 25k is still a hell of a lot of words and a hell of an achievement.

Still look like too much? Try 10k in a month. You'll still be participating in the spirit of the challenge and you'll have more opportunities to really step back and think about the words you’re writing.

Make a daily or weekly writing goal for the month, but don't also lock yourself into word counts.

Have a bunch of unfinished chapters? Make finishing a chapter your goal. Have unfinished scenes or ones that don't connect to each other? Make connecting the dots your goal. This might mean the finishing touches or it might mean a big slab of words, but chances are that it's more manageable than starting from absolutely nothing. Personally for me, reconciling unrelated ideas was usually a lot more satisfying than mindlessly bloating my progress with words that didn't really serve much purpose.

Here's a wild one. Do you really, really, REALLY struggle with outlines or planning on longer fics? Take an entire month just to plan a longfic out.

It'll still be an achievement (ngl there's a chance you won't finish it if it's that detailed or you're like me and genuinely have that much trouble with that aspect of writing, but you'll still probably get an excellent start on it). You'll be doing yourself a great service for some other point down the road when you want to actually write the fic.

If you have writing/editing experience and want to get involved with NaNo but don't want to write, consider being a beta or hanging around a community where you can give your advice/experience/support during NaNo.

One tiny comment or pinch of encouragement can go a very long way. (Obviously doesn’t need to be limited to NaNo but I’m wording it like this in case you’re easily stressed and don’t want to/can’t commit to anything beyond that one month a year for whatever reason).

Do a full nano but don't also lock yourself into daily/weekly word count averages.

That should be obvious, but for some reason it isn't. This is indeed a way to chip away at the big scary beast, but it's actually super unrealistic for a lot of people and IMO it can just make you fear word counts. 300 really crafted words mean more than 5k of disorganized rambling.

Did you write 3k (or any other number that's big compared to your average output) yesterday? Great, so take today and maybe also tomorrow off, you earned it. Even if you're really fueled with inspiration, it's not unusual to feel absolutely hungover the day after a big writing session. That feeling tends to compound after a few really productive days in close succession. The human brain does try to sort out problems 24/7 but it still needs a decent chance to do that and sometimes this means skipping a day or two here and there.

Or if you need extended amounts of time for writing or rest, do alternating weeks instead. This does mean doubling up in the weeks when you're writing, but some people work very well with having longer breaks in between like that.

#writing advice #fanfic woes #nanowrimo #writing problems #writer problems

4 notes · View notes

akhuna · 5 years

Photo

12.06.2019

Update!! It’s raining a lot right now, so the picture is dark - but today was really really great work-wise, and I wanted to share this, because yesterday was so bad.

Over the past few months, I always set myself a monthly goal which I wanted to reach, to make sure that I wouldn’t sit down at my desk for half an hour and then call it a day if I wasn’t really motivated to work. While that worked fine in the beginning, it became a considerable stress factor over the last month due to the personal stuff that is going on currently. After thinking about how I could improve my work on the PhD, I consulted with the man yesterday, and we came up with the following solution. The solution was to work “up” instead of down, so focusing on what I wanted to do with the dissertation - for example, I’d like to hand in the current chapter next week, so I want to have it done by Monday the latest. I will then work on getting that done. Working “up” has always been working better for me than working “down” (i.e. ‘another half hour’), but the challenge was that I a) wouldn’t do enough and call it a day too soon and b) that I would never be satisfied with what I had managed to do.

I tried it today, by starting early, despite not getting much sleep last night - and it worked. I edited 10 pages, at least a third of which were heavy editing, because it was from a first draft - and I worked for two hours and 46 minutes. And, what is more important - I could concentrate. At this rate, reaching my goal has become possible again, and I hope to continue this tomorrow. I haven’t managed to work as much in quite a while.

Never be discouraged by a bad day!! Trust yourself to do better on the next. :)

#studyblr #studying #PhD #studyspo #motivation #study methods #Akhuna gets a PhD #personal #my desk

21 notes · View notes

aenariasbookshelf · 6 years

Text

Darcy and Jane’s Post-Apocalyptic Road Trip, part six

The continuing road trip adventures of a Jane Foster attempting to avoid the US Government and a heavily pregnant Darcy Lewis just keep expanding.

Technically this fic takes place in an alternate universe offshoot of The Incrediblesverse, but you don’t have to read those fics to understand this one.

(parts one and two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

At some point I’ll edit this thing up and post it properly to AO3 (and get a proper title...and chapter breaks...you know how it goes. This story seems to have taken on a life of its own). Until such time, however, this story will live here on Tumblr…

I’ve started posting the story on AO3 here. I’ve only got the first part up there, but it’s been expanded greatly, so I do recommend checking it out. Someday soon I’ll put the rest up there as well.

Infinity War spoilers ahead…

Part Six: in which the women spend some time on the road, ask a few questions, and maybe a little explosion or two.

I’ll admit, I’m not as thrilled with this chapter as I’ve been with others, but it’s at the point where it’s not worth holding back and fiddling with anymore. And, if I post it now, then I can move on to the next chapter which is where things are going to get a bit more interesting...

This chapter does refer to something about Darcy that’s been brought up in the Incrediblesverse numerous times, though not in this spin off...until now. Any questions, you should probably refer back to the original story line, or ask me - I’m more than happy to answer your questions. :)

**********

It's hard to talk with a stranger camped out in their backseat, even if that stranger has been vetted by Steve and was specifically sent there to keep them safe. Still, she did get Darcy out of a sticky situation back at the store, and she trusts Steve's judgement. "Soooo...why archery?" Darcy asks, twisting around in her seat to look at Kate.

Kate's busy sorting through her cache of new arrows, sorting them into stacked piles that mean something only to her. "It's one of the few acceptable rich kid hobbies," she replies, not looking up from her handiwork. "At least according to my dad. Not like he paid much attention anyway. He barely even blinked when I told him I was heading out to Iowa to train with the best archer around." She looks up, rolling her eyes rapidly. "Actually, no, what he asked was why the hell would I even want to head out to Iowa? Said that there's nothing out there but corn." She shakes her head. "Yeah, he's one of those."

"Is bodyguarding something you do often? Or is this just a side job for you?" "How much of an answer do you really want to that question?" Darcy sighs, pressing her fingertips against her temples as her eyes fall closed. "Oy vey." Kate leans in closer, poking her head between the two front seats with a smirk. "All right, my turn to ask questions - how do you know Captain America?" "I bought him a slice of pie once." **********

Of course, of course one of the tires on the SUV has to blow, right after sunset, in what's probably the most middle of nowhere place Darcy's ever seen. Even the tumbleweeds seem lonely, she thinks, exiting the car and stretching her legs a bit, staring off across the gloom, towards the rainbow of colors lining the far off horizon. It's surprisingly warm out, even though there's still a chill in the air. Desert nights are very strange, she's learned over the years. "Please tell me we've got a spare," she asks, peering around the corner of the car where Jane and Kate are attempting to clear a space in the trunk compartment. "Just one, but it should be enough." Jane wipes some sweat off of her forehead, and readjusts the little headlamp perched there. "We'll be fine as long as we don't lose any more tires." Kate hops onto the back bumper so she can get a better look at the roof rack. "We can probably stash a few spare tires up here, if we can find a place tomorrow that still has any." "We can put the dead one up there first - I've got more than a few bungee cords back here." Jane grunts, then there's a scratching noise and a solid thump, the sound of the spare tire hitting the ground with a cloud of dust puffing up after it. "There we go. Do you see a jack in there also?" "I think so? I hope so." "Well, you two have fun sorting that out. I'm going to go find a boulder to pee behind." Darcy knows not to wander too far into the desert, not at night and especially not after the apocalypse, but it's good to get out for a bit. To shake the dust off of her feet and her skin and soak in the night air. She turns her face up to the sky - out here all the stars are visible, twinkling down like everything on Earth is as usual and all they have to do is shine on. But she knows that's not the case, from the tale that Steve had told her and the feeling inside of her bones that something is deeply, profoundly wrong in the entire universe right now. A lazy elbow from her baby glides across the inside of her stomach, pulling her back inside her body, and she runs her fingertips over the little protrusion, feeling him push against the pressure. "We're gonna get through this, baby," she murmurs. The baby kicks at her again, and Darcy shakes her head, smiling. "All right, let's find a place to pee before you kick my bladder open." ********** "So, what makes you so special?" Jane doesn't startle or drop the wrench at Kate's blunt question, though it's a very near thing. "Excuse me?" Kate taps her fingers on the tire that she's holding upright, and shrugs nonchalantly. "It's not every day that Captain America reaches out to a retired fellow Avenger to get two people out of the country, especially when the world's gone to even more shit than we've ever seen before. So...why you?" Jane continues loosening up the lug nuts of the tire, taking her time to think about the question. She likes Kate well enough, but they've only known each other for a few hours, and Jane's not one to trust easily, not after everything she's been through. And nobody but Darcy and Steve really needed to know just yet that she'd had one of those damn stones inside of her once upon a time and lived to tell the tale. "I'm an astrophysicist," she settles on. "I specialize in Einstein-Rosen bridges; wormholes that will let you travel between two otherwise unconnected places in space. Given that this whole shitstorm was caused by crazy aliens from outer space, I guess the Captain thinks I can help them get out there to figure out more of what happened and get the Earth back to some semblance of normality."

“If we can even get back to what we once had,” Kate says with a heavy sigh. “This may be our new normal.”

“Not if I can help it,” Jane says, grunting as she removes the final lug nut. “All right, I can do this,” she mutters under her breath. “I can build high tech, sensitive equipment to monitor the outer reaches of space, I can change a damn tire.”

**********

Darcy doesn’t go back to the car, not just yet. Out here, under the desert night sky, it almost feels like the world hasn’t changed from a few weeks before. Like if she just turns around and goes home, her mother will be there waiting with Steve so they can go to her next ultrasound appointment. But that’s not the world anymore. Hell, given the state of the world she doesn’t even know if her baby will have the opportunity to grow to adulthood, which is the scariest thought of all.

A shiver goes over her skin, making her feel even more unsettled than usual. The sky’s gone fully dark now, but the moon is there, a glowing partial circle that manages to illuminate things here in the middle of nowhere. And it looks...so innocuous. Happy little stars and wispy little clouds that flutter past the moon. But the rest of the universe is dealing with the same shit that Earth is also, if she understood Steve correctly.

Half of the entire universe was obliterated in the blink of an eye.

Maybe there’s a universe next door that they can escape to for a little while.

There’s a rustling off to the side of her somewhere, low and alarming. Darcy stiffens up, head whipping around to try and pinpoint where the noise is coming from. Dammit, shouldn’t have lingered, she thinks.

The rustling happens again, and before Darcy can even think about running away she feels energy swell up under her skin, and a bright light flashes behind her eyes.

**********

“What the hell?” Kate says, spinning to try and see where the flash of light, followed quickly by a small cracking noise.

“Darcy?” Jane calls out, dropping the wrench and straightening up. The tire’s mostly done anyway, so she runs out into the desert, headlamp bobbing along, trying to follow where she’d last seen Darcy wander off.

“Dammit, Foster, wait up!” But Jane’s got bigger things to worry about, namely making sure that Darcy hasn’t been injured by whatever they just saw out there. If her suspicions are right, however, Jane’s fairly certain that light wasn’t something that was harming Darcy. A minute later Kate catches up with her, arrows in one hand and bow in the other, ready to kick the ass of anything that gets in their path. “I can’t,” she pants as they run, “protect you if you don’t wait for me!”

“Too bad!”

They run behind a boulder and then skid to a halt, because Darcy’s there, one hand on her belly and the other over her heart as she breathes heavily. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?” Kate asks.

“Yeah.” Darcy waves her hand at the scrubby bushes, motion at the twisty little tracks in the dirt. “I got spooked by a snake. Sorry for freaking you out.”

Kate shakes her head, hefting her bow up high. “That still doesn’t explain the flashy thing, or the noises.”

“Just drop it,” Jane sighs.

“But - “

“Let it be.” Jane shakes her head. “We don’t have time to linger. Our goal is to get to Alice by dawn.”

The look Kate gives her is highly suspicious, but she doesn’t say anything because Darcy begins walking back to the car, leaving the other two to scramble after her. Just before they reach the car, however, Jane pulls Darcy to the side, out of the earshot of Kate (she trusts her, she really does, but there are some things that Kate doesn’t need to know just yet. “That was a flare up, wasn’t it?” she asks in a low voice.

Darcy nods, chewing at her lower lip. Both women were all too aware of the sudden onset of Darcy’s explosive energy issues after their adventure with the Dark Elves, and while Jane hates to use the word magic because that implies there’s no cause or rationale behind what has happened, they haven’t found a satisfying scientific explanation yet. Not even Thor knew what had really caused this in Darcy, though he was able to give Darcy some of his mother’s books on magic to at least help her channel the energy as needed.

“There really was a snake,” Darcy says. “I got spooked, and then bam.” She flicks her eyes in the direction of the car, where Kate is settling down in the backseat. “Once she’s asleep I’ll look at some of Frigga’s texts to see if I can find anything to help with this.”

“We can ask Thor once we see him also,” Jane points out. “Maybe he’ll have some new ideas.”

“I hope so.” Darcy runs a hand back through her hair, then over her stomach where even Jane can see a slight rippling where the baby’s moving inside. “I feel better, but I can still feel the energy inside me wanting to come out. It feels like...like it likes what’s happening in the universe about as much as the rest of us do right now.”

“So in other words, not much.”

“Yep.” Darcy takes another deep breath, like she’s trying to center herself back on Earth and come down from the stars. “Okay, you drive, and I’ll see if I can meditate so I don’t blow up another damn tumbleweed.”

#fic #Darcy Lewis #Jane Foster #Kate Bishop #darcy x steve #the incrediblesverse #avengers: infinity war spoilers #my fic #mcu #shieldshock

73 notes · View notes

funkymbtifiction · 6 years

Note

Hi there :) I’m an ENFP that leaves dozens of unfinished projects in my wake. I know this and i feel terrible for never getting anything done. I really want to change. I’ve tried setting a schedule, bullet journaling, not allowing myself to not do anything until i finish a project... i haven’t found anything that actually consistently helps me. You’ve said you always finish things— what helps you get through the agony of working on something you’ve lost interest in so you can finish it?

Part of it relates to me choosing not to start anything I don’t think will hold my interest. If I’m super selective in what I commit to, that narrows down my things to finish considerably. Sometimes I’ll halfheartedly tag along with something for awhile and then realize, “This isn’t just me procrastinating, I actively DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS,” and I’ll bow out before I even start.

Me always finishing things is a slight exaggeration; I have a cross-stitch stuffed in the back of my closet from twenty years ago that I still have not finished. ;)

But writing-wise, yes, I finish what I start. I’ve thought a lot about WHY, and I think it relates to my Fi. I have known I was intended for a writer since I first started writing at eleven years old. It’s all I’ve ever REALLY wanted to do and be (not at all like those superficial childish indulgences of “I could be a lawyer,” or “I could be a dolphin trainer!” that came and went). If you want something bad enough, you will work hard to become good at it. You will show up every day to do it, even when you really don’t want to. It’s the same for anyone whose heart is truly in something – if you are a dancer, you dance, and dance, and dance, even when you don’t feel like it, because you can’t NOT dance. If you’re a musician, you play and compose and practice, because it means so much to you. Writing means everything to me. It means so much to me, I actively plan my week around it. I leave myself enormous chunks of time to do it. I have, on occasion, turned down social engagements because I knew I’d be happier at home, writing.

So for me, not writing, and not finishing what I am working on, is not optional – because I write not for my own benefit alone (though I love what I write)… I write to share it. And you cannot share something until it’s done… or at least, I don’t. I know that I have to work on nothing else except that one writing project at a time. I can’t let myself get distracted. So I obsess over it, I fill my mind with thoughts of it, I watch stuff related to the time period for ideas, I listen to music that keeps me in that mindset… and I set myself very short timeline goals to stick to, in order to get something done, because my brain, my Te, NEEDS TO SEE PROGRESS.

I have had friends tell me I should slow down, take more time off, write slower… I can’t. If I do, my intensity, my focus, will go away; I will become less interested in finishing and more interested in other things, and I’ll lose my mental focus. This is what works for me. I have trained myself to write (on that one project, whatever I’m working on) at least four days a week. Sometimes, I sit there for 5 hours at a stretch. Sometimes it takes me two hours to do a chapter. Sometimes it takes me 6. But I force myself to keep going. Because I want to see this story become REAL. Tangible. Something I can hold in my hands. Something I can send my friends. Something they can talk to me about. If it is never finished, I can never discuss it. I can never move on from it. It haunts me, like a half-painted wall.

Best thing you can do for yourself, if you’re a habitual starter but never finish anything is to figure out how long you can hold your interest, and aim for that. A week? Great. Make sure you can finish your project IN a week. 6 hours? Better make that a short story instead of a novella and sit there until you’ve finished it. As a Ne-dom, your brain moves fast. You are capable of putting out a lot of ideas in a very short amount of time. USE it. Taking 10 years to write a book is for other types. Do it in two months. You want to have some fun? Set a time limit and race yourself. How fast can you do this? How quick can you get it done?

How much do you really want to do it?

How much do you think you’ll really want to do it… next week?

How much do you think you’ll really, really want to still be doing it, next month?

What do you want to do, be? Your tendency as a Ne is “a little bit of everything,” but every single success book I’ve ever read says, “Figure out what you love most, and do that, pursue that, focus on that.” Which means, don’t waste your time on things you don’t love.

My father frequently complains that I do not have enough hobbies; it’s true. I don’t. I am 90% writer. Almost every single one of my hobbies ties in to writing. That’s who I am. I’m not ashamed of it. Nothing else interests me as much. Nothing else offers such a litany of words. Nothing else fosters ideas.

As for how to keep yourself motivated: find ways to make it interesting. If I get up and don’t feel like writing that day, I ask myself, “What would make you feel like writing this chapter? What needs to HAPPEN in it, to MAKE you excited to write it?” Ne likes discovery. Don’t think too far ahead, and if an idea makes you go “meh,” find another one. The best ideas always come back to you. I do not really lose interest unless I have left something alone too long; since Ne processes things so quickly, a few days can seem like ages to a Ne… so I combat that by sticking to it, and working on my projects each day.

Something I had to do over Christmas, I had no real interest in; I had gotten roped into a project by my mom for someone else, and I coped with my lack of interest by seeing how fast I could throw it together and get it done. Maybe it wasn’t spectacular, but it was FINISHED.

You wanting to finish things is your tert-Te shouting at you. Here’s my advice:

Look at all your unfinished projects, pick the ONE that you still have the most interest in, and chuck the rest in the proverbial or literal garbage bin. This is almost 2018. Time to start with a brand new clean slate. Then dedicate one hour every three days to that one project. It’s much easier to see progress with one project, than to spend your time running around between 23 projects. Do not punish yourself, reward yourself. (Punishment: I cannot watch Stranger Things until I work on this, which makes your task ‘negative’ in your mind. Reward: I am really excited to work on this, because it means I get to do [insert something exciting about your project here] and then I am going to reward myself with Stranger Things!) And, I know this will be hard, but… start writing down other ideas that don’t go with your project, and sticking them in a mason jar. Why? Because it will get them out of your head, so you can focus.

Here’s the thing: you train your brain’s cognitive processes. If you follow the same mental patterns, you create a brain rut. But if you continually bring your thoughts under control / focus them, you create in yourself a stronger ability to do that next time… and over time, it becomes natural to you. I have spent twenty-odd years training my brain to work on one project at a time, to channeling all my Ne in specific directions at once, and now it’s fairly easy for me – to the extent that I find it hard to switch mental tactics sometimes; but I always, ALWAYS plan my day the night before, so I am mentally prepared.

For example, the other morning I had off from work, so the night before I said: okay, gonna edit two chapters, write these six profiles for the queue, and write one movie review. Did the profiles first, then the movie review, then started feeling ‘meh’ about the chapters, but I told myself: no, you said you were going to do this, you’re on the home stretch, literally 2 hours away from being DONE with major edits for this book, before 2018! This was your goal! As a reward, tomorrow you can marathon X show on Netflix and literally do nothing.

So I did. I sat there and edited, and found… I quite like my own story. ;)

I have no idea if any of that can help you; I hope so. I know that a lot of NFPs find their inability to finish things frustrating. I think the secret lies in being selective about what you choose to do, in agreeing with yourself to a preset short amount of time to finish it in, and in rewarding yourself for finishing. :)

My track record is much poorer with things I don’t care about, or that I’m ‘required’ to do for my job; if my Fi-heart isn’t in it, I find it much harder to commit and self-discipline to finish it. :P

- ENFP Mod

#question #enfp #mbti

56 notes · View notes