writerofshit - Tumblr blog

[writerofshit]

reworking an old fahc idea into something resembling original fiction is a fitting way to spend my april fool's day i think

[writerofshit]

[writerofshit]

I saw these in work today, I don’t know if it’ll help your situation but it made me think of your post lol

I also should have answered this sooner, but alas.

So i guess generically they're 'splash balls'??

I grew up always calling them 'splash bombs' because I'm pretty sure that was the brand we had, but also we called them all that??

[writerofshit]

So I just had the vague memory of something you’d written a while ago and went through your archive looking for it, and I’ve now spent like 30 mins reading through almost all your posts because I forgot how much I love all of your ideas. So I just wanted you to know you’re still one of my favourite writers 💜

I absolutely should have responded to this sooner, but truthfully I've needed to revisit frequently, and i didn't want to lose it.

I've been writing 200 words a day based off advice i saw I'm a Tumblr post. Basically it's enough to feel like I've done something, but also not too much that it feels overwhelming. But there's days when it is anyway, and there's days when I wonder how much it even matters whether I write the words or not.

But then i remember this message and it genuinely helps get my brain out of the loop. You are such a kind, wonderful person, and if my silly ideas make you happy then of course they matter.

Thank you, you have no idea how many times you've helped me. 💜💜

[writerofshit]

For the fanfic writers post, 🥺,💔 and ✅?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I don't know that this will make a lot of sense, but I'm a big fan of Character A thinking a relationship is one way right up until the point that Character B spells it out for them. It's not even a romantic thing, necessarily. It's them thinking that it's a working relationship, just professional, maybe they're even being used in some capacity, but then here comes the other person to inform them that no, they couldn't give a shit about the job, actually. Fuck the money, fuck the power, fuck all of it. B only cares that A is happy. Did A not realize that they're family now? Because they are, goddamnit.

In other words, scenes that go like

A: You only care about [monetarily important thing]

B: Do I?

B smashes or otherwise destorys monetarily important thing.

B: I care about you, A

I just love characters being kind of blindsided by other people loving them both because of who they are, and in spite of it. I love giving them people they cannot make turn against them. I love letting them be loved unconditionally.

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I think we all know that my track record for finishing stuff is less than stellar, and a majority of shit I did finish has since been privated, so I don't really have anything to point to. I think maybe anything thats been disclaimered as being personal to me in some way. That's less about the fic than it is my own self pity, though.

Some of what I'm writing now gets to me. I won't spoil it much, not that its anywhere close to done anyway. But part of the backstory is someone dealing with a loss and needing to be reminded that while loss is a part of life, it is not the only part. At one point they simply say "It's not fair." and everytime I re-read it I have to take a moment. Because they're right, and there's nothing we can do except live with it.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Dumb references that I'm pretty sure no one else catches. Current project is chock full of one-off quotes and sneaky reasons for stuff that probabaly only make sense to me. Yes, this is the same project that makes me cry when I think aout the unfairness of death. On occasion, I am multi-faceted.

Unrelated but I also always seem to end up with at least one scene involving deep conversations while lying in bed. It's generally platonic, too. There's something about the combination of intimacy, vulnerability, and anonymity that comes from sharing a bed with someone. Confessions come easier, I think.

---

This is all much longer than I'm sure anyone expected from me, for which I deeply apologize. Also pretty sure all of my answers boil down to 'love makes me cry'

[writerofshit]

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

📈 How many fics do you have?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

[writerofshit]

there are three kinds of fanfic:

i can fix it

i can make it worse

horny

[writerofshit]

This is absolutely unfinished, and is 100% my own memories that i, apparently, really need to let go of. I don't think they belong to me anymore, and their other handlers let go a long time ago.

Present

The sun is hot, soaking into the shoulders of Michael’s t-shirt. He readjusts his baseball cap, smashing his curls down even flatter. He fiddles with the key ring in his hand, running his thumbnail along the groove in the old penthouse key. it comes away dark and dirty. He should have given the key back when Geoff sold the place, but he could never bring himself to let it go. Besides, no one knew how many copies there really were, and the new owner had surely changed the locks. He can’t remember their name.

He glances up from his spot, leaning against Fredo’s latest passion project. It’s an old chevy something or other. Doesn’t mater much. There’s an older white guy heading his way, hands buried in his pockets.

“Can i help you?” Michael asks. he doesn't move from the car.

“You got a lighter?” The man’s voice is deep and gravely. Instinctively, MIchael reaches for his front jean pocket, and it isn’t until his hand comes up empty does he remember.

“Sorry dude, no.”

The guy tilts his head curiously at michael. “Should’ve asked you a couple years ago, huh?” He asks with a smile. It’s not so much a question as an assumption. Michael nods.

“Hell, six months ago I’d’ve been your guy.” Part of him wishes he still smoked, could still have an excuse to be standing out here isolating himself. Truth be told, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Fredo’s bound to roll his eyes at Michael regardless.

“good for you, kid.” THe guy says, nodding. “it’s a goddamn rotten habit.”

MIchael huffs out a laugh. “Worse than some, better than others.” He considers the myriad of other ways he used to pass the time. Cigarettes had been the least of his concern. All behind him now, though, so what difference does it make?

“A-fucking-men, kid.” tHe guy tilts his ehad towards Fredo’s door. “good luck.”

“With the car or the addiction?” He misses this too, unloading on strangers he’ll never see again.

“Both.” The guy says, smiling. “But especially the smokes. Quitting ain’t easy, believe me. Done it too many times to count.”

Michael’s heard this speech before, doesn’t care too much to hear it again. He doubts even this time will be his last time quitting. But that’s fine. He’s doing better for now. He’ll take what he can get.

“Thanks.” Michael says. He wants this guy to leave so he can sit here, wax poetically about his car. The guy salutes him and wlks away, and Michael’s back to waiting alone.

Double-O-Mog is in the shop, or the closest he can get it to these days. The car is old, and the crew has garages full of shiny new ones. it’s not high on the priority list, doesn’t need to be fixed. If Trevor had his way, it would’ve been junked years ago. BUt Double-O-Mog holds a lot of sentimental value to Michael, and Fredo’s got more free trime than sense to say ‘no’. So here they are.

The door dings open, and Michael looks up.

2016

“This genuinely sucks, doesn't it?.” The windows are down, and the trees are speeding by in a green blur

“Seriously! And I’m just saying this song makes no sense.” The windows are down, blowing Gavin’s douchey hairstyle in 12 directions at once. He’s smiling broadly, one hand dangling out of the window, the other reaching for the dial.

“Touch that knob and lose a finger.” Michael says flatly.

HIs left hand is hanging out his own window, pushing against the air presure of the highway. He has no particular attachment to the song, some one off from some band Jeremy had sent him. Mostly it’s fun to argue with Gavin, call him an idiot and hear him squeak in indignation.

“Michael.” Gavin admonishes, laughing. He flips the channel, landing on a Top 40 station. “So much better.” He says, grinning smugly at Michael.

Michael’s pretty sure the singer is Justin Timberlake. it’s kind of terrible. Gavin belts out the lyrics, horrifically off key. “Can’t stop the feeling!” He draws out the ‘ee’ in ‘feeling’. He kind of loves this.

A car pulls beside them, glancing over obviously. Gavin waves, and the driver, a twenty something with dark hair and darker bags under his eyes, waves back. “Shit!” Gavin says, leaning toward Michael. He points at the other car. “I worked with him years ago. Glad he’s still around.”

Michael presses harder on the accelerator, and the car lurches forward and past the man Gavin used to know. “Can we go anywhere in this fuckin city without running into somebody you know?” He asks. He flips the turn signal, easing Double-O-Mog into the right lane. He’s 80% sure they need to get off at the next exit.

“Excuse me for being popular.” Gavin says, sitting back in the seat. He glances out the window. “Are we close?”

“I think?” It doesn’t really matter. Either they’ll get off and be right, or they’ll be wrong and have to get back on. Or not. Truthfully, Michael could keep speeding down this highway for forever, keep bickering back and forth with Gavin until they run out of gas. He’d be happier doing that than going to work.

“Rumor has it Chris is working out here now.” Gavin says, turning the volume on the radio down. it’s moved on to a Chainsmokers’ song.

“Oh yeah? And the odds of running into him?”

“With me here?” Gavin grins at him. “Pretty damn good.”

2017

He’s drunk. So goddamn drunk. He’s not sure how they’ve ended up here, squished into the backseat, Jeremy’s body warm where it presses into Michael’s. The AC in Double-O-Mog stopped working years ago and they never figured out why. Michael drives with the windows down and it’s fine. But now it’s April and global warming has fucked spring straight into summer. The air feels heavy and humid, like it might actually choke him if he doesn’t take his shirt off.

“you are one of my best friends.” He says instead of disrobing. He means it, too. They’ve been on the edge of this, have spent too many nights drinking together and sitting too close. The whole crew knows there’s something there. Something Michael has allowed himself to dream of at night but never say aloud. He’s wondered, in a desperate longing sort of way, if Jeremy feels it too. Maybe he has before the other night, when they leaned against the hood and Jremy wrapped an arm aorund him.\

“I think you might be my only friend.” Jeremy says. His face is turned into the side of Michael’s, but Michael won’t turn. What happens if he does? Will it be the beginning of the end? If he turns and they kisss and maybe they have sex, what then? Do they stay friends? Become more than that?

“I’m telling Gavin you said that.” Just keep making jokes, keep trying to sober up. The moment will pass and the cat will stay ambiguous.

“I don’t talk to Gav like I talk to you.” Jeremy says, huffing a laugh into his ear. “Definitely not like we are tonight.” He slips a hand to MIchael’s knee, slung over Jeremy’s lap.

“To his great dsappointment.” Michael jokes. His eyes are closed, he still won’t do it.

“Michael.” Jeremy says softly. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not 100% on board with doing. We can go home. I’ll drive, if you want.”

How does he explain to Jeremy that this, snuggled in the back seat of his car, is almost too perfect? That yes; he’s 110% into wherever it goes. He wants it. He wants to turn and kiss Jeremy. He wants Jeremy to kiss him back, to push him into th leather seat, let his hands unbuckle MIchael’s jeans, let his hands wander farther. He wants Jeremy’s mouth on his body, wants to touch Jeremy in all the places he’s never been privvy to. He wants Jeremy to press into him and place kisses into his collarbone.

He wants to go home, to one bed, to wrao his arms around Jeremy and fall fast asleep. He wants to wake up with sleepy smiles and gentle kisses. He wnats to make Jeremy’s coffee the way he knows he likes it.

How does he explain to Jeremy that he is 100% on board with all of it, but he’s terrified he’ll only get tonight?

“Do you want me to drive home?”

Michael turns and kisses him.

2018

The parking lot is dark but warm, mugginess making Michael’s t-shirt cling to him uncomfortably. He’s leaning on the hood of Double-O-Mog, Gavin beside him, for what feels like the millionth time of his life. He half expects bells and whistles to go off, mark the occasion as something special. Gavin’s saying something about a trip he took, about Alfredo and competitions, sniper guns and one hundred dollars. It strikes Michael that he should be worried, that any place on earth the story would turn heads. But not here.

Here is safe, and fun, and it feels like they’re on top of the world.

He flicks his thumb against the filter of his cigarette, ashing it into the air. A small speck floats down onto the toe of Gavin’s converse.

“Michael.” Gavin whines. He doesn’t move his foot, doesn’t shake the ash away. “Didn’t anyone teach you it’s not polite to ash on people? Who raised you?” He puts his own cigarette to his lips, blows the smoke into Michael’s face almost immediately. Michael turns his head away but takes a drag anyway.

“Dick.” He looks back to Gavin, their eyes meet. “For the record, no, she never tld me not to ash on people. She just told me not to smoke at all.”

Gavin nods as if he understands. As if their childhoods are even remotely comparable. As if if he heard the same message, hadn’t been caught smoking at 13 and been sneered at because they were menthols and not reds. “Yeah, I can see that.” He flicks his cigarette butt and it sails three spots away, landing in a puddle. He whistles in satisfaction. “Can I guess her stance on premarital sex?” He asks, smirking at Michael.

“Firmly against.” Michael says, and his laugh has no real humor to it. He puts his cigarette to his lips but withdraws it. “But hell, even if we were married, it’s not like she’d recognize it.” It’s weird to say out loud. It hurts. He takes another drag, ashes the cigarette again.

“THat’s fine.” Gavin says, shaking his head. He reaches back, picking up MIchael’s pack from behind him. “We’d never get married anyway.” Michael eyes him. “You mind?” Gavin asks, but he’s already pulling one out, already moving past the potential conversation. Michael shrugs. Gavin reaches out and digs for the lighter in Michael’s jean pocket. Michael doesn’t portest, doesn’t push him away. Just laughs and shakes his head. He can’t remember a time they weren’t like this.

Far before they slept together it even made out, Gavin never could keep his hands to himself. It was always a oint of pride for him, and indication of how much their friendship meant. 'Im so into dudes' he'd say, lying on top of Michael. 'But there's nothing going on here, because we're friends and I respect you too much.' It hadn't mattered, in the end. They'd still made out that one time, and they'd ended up fucking anyway. Four months prior, if his math is correct.

Lighter extricated, Gavin cups his hand gently around the cigarette in his mouth. it lights, he puffs, smoke billowing out of his mouthy after a beat. He wrinkles his nose. “God, since when do you smoke reds?”

“Since a few months ago.” MIchael says, flicking his own cigarette away. It doesn’t even come close to Gavin’s. He remembers the look of surprise on Trevor’s face when he’d pulled 305’s out of his pocket. He’d shrugged, told him the same thing he'll tell Gavin now.

“I thought you hated them.” Gavin says. They watch the smoke curl up toward the stars. Gavin taps the top of his cigarette and the ash falls to the ground.

“I do.” MIchael confirms, slipping one frfom the pack. The admission is on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know if Gavin will understand, the feeling or the reason. “Only smoke ‘em when I hate myself extra.” he says, putting the cigarette to his lips. Gavin blinks at him but hands the lighter over.

“Well that makes no sense.” Gavin looks away from him, tip of his cigarette glowing cherry red as he inhales. “If you’re gonna have a bad habit you might as well enjoy it.” He says quietly.

There’s the click of the lighter and then, spoken around the smoke-

“Exactly.”

The word hangs in the air, but neither of them acknowledge it. Michael could explain farther, tell Gavin that honestly, it’s them these past few months, feeling like he’s betraying everyone, but especially Gavin’s ‘not technically ex because they never actually called it dating’. But they were. Everyone knew it, had accepted them like one of the crew. Everything had been great.

ANd then it fell apart.

Gavin got cagey and broke it off, and then- well, they’d always been on the cusp too, hadn’t they? Drunken confessions of mutual attraction, a kiss, then nothing. Gavin got serious until he wasn’t, then they picked back up. By that point, Jeremy had had Matt in his bed, and lads nights always did end in sharing blankets and sitting too close. But there was technically no one to feel guilty about. it was good, great, even. Michael liked sleeping with Gavin, liked the way he liked to cuddle after, liked the way his hand felt around Michael’s throat.

He still hadn’t switched back to menthols, though.

“So.” Gavin says, instead of addressing the elephant. Just as well. Michael has no interest in talking about feelings, especially not with Gavin. He nods back at the car. “You wanna have sex tonight? We can drive out to the middle of nowhere, like we used to.” he says with a grin.

the smoke settles in his lungs, harsh and suffocating. The cherry glows, bright and hot, racing toward his knuckles. He shouldn’t, should make better choices than fucking his best friend in the backseat of his car.

He flicks his cigarette. “Yeah.” He says finally. “Sounds like a plan.”

[writerofshit]

I know ive said it before but like... The thing wouldn't be done, or edited much, or anything really. It would just be my raw goddamn emotions on your screen, and lacking context that make them hurt

I know i said this mooooonths ago, but what if i put out the thing I wrote that's just... My real life memories placed loosely on the Lads? Michael specifically, because goddamnit if i didn't make loud and angry my personality for a few years too.

It's just... They're some memories i both want desperately to revisit and also to bury like I've never even heard of them

I kind of want to add to them, but they're supposed to involve the car but the new ones don't..... There's ways around that though, I guess

Also it's like 3:30 Am and i am still Drunk

[writerofshit]

I know i said this mooooonths ago, but what if i put out the thing I wrote that's just... My real life memories placed loosely on the Lads? Michael specifically, because goddamnit if i didn't make loud and angry my personality for a few years too.

It's just... They're some memories i both want desperately to revisit and also to bury like I've never even heard of them

I kind of want to add to them, but they're supposed to involve the car but the new ones don't..... There's ways around that though, I guess

Also it's like 3:30 Am and i am still Drunk

[writerofshit]

Like let me ask y'all this question:

I meant what i said but does that make it true?

Like if you tell someone you love them, or for instance, that you're one of two people you could ever see yourself spending your life with, and you mean it in the moment but also you're fairly drunk in the moment, does that make it true? Or did you lie?

What if, for instance, you said, roughly a month later, that actually youll never be in a relationship with that person because you've never ever seen them that way- does tjat mean you're a liar then?

And if that person kept both of those moments in the back of their head for at least five fucking years, and over those years you've slept together multiple times, and time and time again they've expressed that you mean so goddamn much to them, and they've hinted at being in Love with you and you've suspected it but neither of you have ever said it out loud- what then? Have you both lied?

Or have you both been honest because at no point did you think you could speak the truth out loud without damaging your friendship? Although god only knows what you think because they seem to remember a hell of a lot more than you do. And you can blame it on being a stoner, years Ago, or you can blame it on being a drunk for every goddamn year youve known each other, but honestly? They think it's because you don't want to remember.

You don't want to remember shit because then you'd be held accountable. you'd have to answer for why not them? Why you say, to this goddamn day, that'd youd only ever connected with with one person the way you connected with them, and it IS them, your fucking best friend, and yet you're marrying someone goddamn else.

And yes, maybe they should say congratulations, if you're happy then they're happy- but why did you wait to tell them? Why keep it to your goddamn self-

They'd do anything for you, you know that right? You worry about them wanting to kill themselves but the truth is they'd find a way to love living, for you. They'd find a way to be ok, for you.

But it doesn't matter, does it? Because in a year, you're going to marry someone else. And for tonight, they're going to lie on your goddamn futon and hope anyone at all will distract them from the spiral that has been created.

Hey, so, i am super in my fucking feelings and also pretty fucking drunk, who wants to chat about some FAHC shit???

[writerofshit]

Hey, so, i am super in my fucking feelings and also pretty fucking drunk, who wants to chat about some FAHC shit???

[writerofshit]

These bitches

Like what's your go-to name for them?

What do you call foam balls that you soak with water and throw at one another in a fun water fight?

[writerofshit]

What do you call foam balls that you soak with water and throw at one another in a fun water fight?

[writerofshit]

You know, casual plotting of some events. #justwritingthings

[writerofshit]

I suck at temporarily naming projects because it's always something meaningless that I came up with at 2 am to stop Untitled Document (37) from haunting me the following day

But then i get attached to the temporary name and it travels from program to program and i begin to think of the project as that title for real

And it's not even GOOD I don't even like it but it's there and it probably will be for good. The second i say it out loud to another person or post in anywhere I'll think of something better but it will be too late.

I know all of this but i am powerless to stop it

[writerofshit]

In other news, the first chapter is sitting around 3600 words.

*insert This Is Fine meme here*

Me: I'm going to write through all of this dialogue in my head, I'll figure out the rest later. Just get words down

Also me: spends 5 minutes staring at the screen, desperately trying to think of a clever fake AC company