#hopefully the next prompt will not include that and also it won't be late at night

[homosociallyyours]

Hii! Hope the writing is going well?

These are the questions i want to ask if you're still answering: 5, 20 (related to 20, whichever answer you choose i would love details on this WIP)

Hiiiii it went well, I finished my draft!! WHEEEEE

my reward? answering this ask! so thank you :)

5) Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Ummm not necessarily a superstition, but I do write in comic sans bc I read that it tricks your brain into thinking you're doing something very silly/not actually serious. And I believe it works for me!! So it must be true, right?

20) If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it-- which would you choose?

I know this is supposed to be a hard choice, but. Love. For sure, no hesitation, I'll pick someone supportive sitting next to me on the couch and encouraging me to work on a new fic or an old WIP.

It doesn't hurt that I don't really have a WIP that's a darling to me at the moment. I have a couple that I really wanna finish, though. The next one I'm gonna tackle (hopefully for the end of next month, fingers crossed) is something that was supposed to be written for the reverse bang before last. It's got art by @becomeawendybird and UGH it's gonna be great once I actually write the last 2000 words or so. Details below the cut :)

So the prompt/art is girl direction and basically tax preparer Marcel/stripper Louis-- Marcel works for a big tax company that tweets about being able to help strippers with their taxes (in a cheeky, cute way) and Louis works at the Lusty Lady, a worker owned, unionized peep show in SF. Marcel helps Louis, and the two of them later go on a date and fall for each other. There's some good awkward moments in there and some sexy-ish ones too, imo.

I honestly think I could've finished it in time, but some outside pressures really got into my head and made me scared to finish. Basically I have a lot of sex workers in my life who I love and care about, including people who worked at the Lusty Lady, and someone on here heard that I was writing a stripper fic and got very upset with me, telling me I shouldn't write it bc it's disrespectful and harmful to sex workers.

My beta at the time was literally a sex worker? She is open about this, just to be clear, and I'm not going into this thoughtlessly. While I know I'm not gonna write something that perfectly portrays the experience of All Strippers with a story about someone working at this (pretty unique) spot in a very liberal city like SF, I was hoping to write something cute and fun but also respectful and informative.

ANYWAYYYY i valiantly pretended that i wasn't listening to this one person and did keep working on the fic, but it really got in my head and once I missed the deadline I had to limp over to something else. In case it's not obvious, I'm *still* not over it, and my only hope is that this person (with whom I'm in a mutual block, though I do know they're still active) doesn't know when i publish it and won't go after me for it.

so. uh. late April! hopefully! maybe finishing the WIP is all it will take for my one true love to find me??

** usually i like gossiping a bit, but i won't reveal the name of the person who came after me, so please don't ask. i didn't tell anyone at the time and i'm not starting now **

[allsassnoclass]

hi hazel! for the prompts how about "67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More", i wanna say for mashton but if you want to write some muke that works as well i think! -taylor<3

@squishmichael I looooooooooooove mashton. just in case anyone forgot lol

mashton: when one stops the kiss to whisper "I'm sorry, are you sure you-" and they answer by kissing them more

"Michael?"

Michael blinks, then forces himself to look up from his computer and the seemingly endless code on displayed onscreen. Ashton is standing in the doorway, dressed for bed with boxers, a big t-shirt, and his glasses perched on his nose.

The only thing Michael needs less than the mistake in this program is the sight of Ashton in his glasses with his legs on display.

"Hey, Ash. What's up?"

"How long have you been working?" he asks rather than answering. "I called your name a few times before you looked up."

Michael sighs and rubs at his eyes. His own contacts should probably come out soon, but he knows that if he gets up now he's not going to want to sit down and do more work.

"I can't figure out where the error is," he says. "The client wanted the website done by Monday and I really didn't want to have to work this weekend."

Ashton hums and comes to stand behind him, putting his hands on Michael's shoulders and beginning to rub out some of the tension there. He's probably looking at the computer in an attempt to help even though he knows nothing about programming. Michael doesn't know how he got such a great roommate, but in his current state he might cry about it if he thinks on it too long.

Michael exhales, submitting himself to a brief break to let Ashton work his magic.

"You know," Ashton says, voice low and gentle, "you'll be more likely to catch the problem tomorrow when you're awake and rested verses now when you should be asleep. It's past midnight and you've been at it for hours."

He digs his thumb into a knot in Michael's shoulder. Michael lets out a sound before he can stop himself, leaning into the touch, feeling his muscles unravel under Ashton's hands.

"I don't want to," he groans. "I was going to sleep in tomorrow, then we have that thing with Calum later, and I need to do laundry. I'm running out of acceptable clothes."

"Don't worry about that," Ashton says. "I can throw your stuff in tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"And we're not meeting Calum until mid-afternoon. You can sleep in, then work a bit after lunch. If you still don't manage to find the problem, you have all of Sunday."

Michael hums. He doesn't want to admit that Ashton is right, but it's getting harder and harder to argue with him the longer this massage goes on. He feels like he could melt into a puddle right here in his chair, but he'd much rather do so in his bed, possibly while curled around Ashton.

"Come on, Michael," Ashton coaxes, leaning more into Michael's space. If Michael didn't know better, he'd say that Ashton is fully aware of the affect he has on him and using it for evil, but there's no way he would continue their easy-going intimacy if he was aware of Michael's true feelings.

Well, maybe he would. Ashton's cool, so he probably wouldn't ruin their friendship if he found out. Sometimes, Michael even lets himself read a little too far into things and consider the possibility that Ashton feels the same.

"Michael?" Ashton asks, hands stilling and jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he says automatically. "Just thinking."

"Yeah, I think it's time for bed," Ashton says. "You weren't thinking, you were zoned out. I could feel you drifting off under me."

Michael fights down a blush, thankful at least that Ashton can't fully see his face.

"It's your fault for giving me a massage," he tries to protest. "You know how relaxing your massages are."

"All part of my evil plan to get you to stop working and come to bed," Ashton says, rubbing his thumbs in hypnotic circles on the back of Michael's shoulders. "It's for your own good."

Michael sighs again. He really should keep working, but Ashton's right. At this point he's probably overlooked the mistake five times without realizing, and he's not in the best mindset to continue now. The most effective use of his time would be going to bed, even if that means losing Ashton's attention until he wakes up tomorrow.

"I don't want to move," he says in a pitiful attempt to elongate this moment. Ashton snorts, leaning down to wrap his arms around Michael's shoulders in a hug. Michael hopes Ashton can't feel the way his heart speeds up with him draped over his back.

"Come on, Michael," he says, gently rocking them back and forth. "Moving is good for you! Moving means you get to go to sleep in an actual bed!"

"I can't," he says. "You'll have to carry me."

Ashton hums like he's actually considering it.

"I could try to fireman carry you, but honestly I don't think it'd go over well," he says. "Besides, I doubt it'd be very comfortable for you."

"Damn," Michael sighs.

Ashton releases him, pulling out Michael's chair and offering both his hands to tug him up. If Michael spends a bit longer than necessary drinking in the sight of him up close, he can blame it on being tired and a little out of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he groans dramatically, taking Ashton's hands and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Ashton doesn't release his hands immediately nor back away, so they're standing really close, closer than is properly acceptable for two roommates. It takes everything in Michael's willpower not to take one more half-step forward and lean against him.

"I don't hate you, Michael," Ashton says. "Not even close."

Ashton smiles, a gentle and private thing between the two of them. His eyes are soft, an emotion in them that Michael thinks he recognizes, one that takes his breath away.

Ashton's eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. Michael inhales, because he didn't hallucinate that. He knows that he's tired, but he's not that tired.

"Are-- did you just--"

He doesn't know what he's trying to ask, but thankfully he doesn't have to complete the thought, because Ashton is kissing him.

Michael has thought a lot about what it would be like to be kissed by Ashton. Would his lips be chapped or smooth? What would he taste like? Where does he like to put his hands? Would he be gentle or rough? Does he like to lead the kiss or does he prefer to follow his partner? Would Michael enjoy it because Ashton is particularly good, or just because it's Ashton?

Michael doesn't think about any of those things when he feels that first press of lips against his. His first immediate thought is holy shit, then his mind goes completely blank and he kisses back. There's no space for him to form cohesive thoughts because everything inside him kicks into overdrive. He might have been dead on his feet a second ago, but now his whole body is lit up like a live-wire, right down to the nerve endings in his fingers, which have somehow tangled themselves in Ashton's hair. It's beautiful and wonderful and he can't get enough, which is why he doesn't understand why Ashton is leaning back.

"Wait," Ashton says, breathless in a way that definitely makes Michael's heart skip a beat. "Sorry, are you sure you--"

He doesn't even dignify that with an eye-roll, just kisses Ashton again, letting out a pleased noise when Ashton pulls him closer by his waist. When they eventually have to take a breath neither of them go very far, foreheads almost touching.

"So," Ashton says, then clears his throat. "I don't hate you. Obviously."

"Yeah," Michael says. "I kind of got that."

Ashton giggles, genuinely giggles, and Michael can't resist kissing him again.

"You're supposed to be going to bed," Ashton says when they part again.

"I don't want to," he says. "I want to keep kissing you."

"Okay, what about this: you go take out your contacts and brush your teeth, then meet me back in my room. We can keep kissing right up until you fall asleep, then if you're still into it we can continue in the morning."

"I'll still be into it," Michael says. He leans back a bit more, waiting until he's fully caught Ashton's eye again to continue. "I've liked you for a long time, Ashton. I don't think I'm ever going to get sick of kissing you, but I definitely won't after only one night."

Ashton's smile leaves him just as breathless as the kisses did.

"Go get ready for bed," he says. "I'll wait for you."

Michael smiles and takes one more kiss with him for the road.

[theoriginalladya]

Writing Round Up - 2021

So, let's take a look at what happened in 2021 as a whole with the writing.

I did manage to write every single month - not unusual for me. In fact, it would be more unusual to NOT write at all in a month, so right on track with that.

So, let's see what's going on here: (under cut because it got long! lol what're the odds, right? ;) )

New Projects/Postings - completed

Young & Proud - Caleb Shepard (sniper school)

Slán leat (Goodbye) - Caleb Shepard

May The Road Rise To Meet You - Caleb Shepard (Akuze)

No Rest for the Wicked - MEBB 2021; Caleb Shepard, ME/WWII

A Constant Wish - Caleb Shepard

Gaia's Chosen - Caleb Shepard - Werewolf: The Apocalypse crossover

Express Orders - Kristofer Shepard

Hello There, Handsome - Kristofer Shepard

Home - Kristofer Shepard

Firestorm - Kristofer Shepard

Next Stop... - Alenkoats

Breathless - Alenkoats

MER Week 2021 - Alenkoats

As Cold As Ice - Alenkoats

A War That Needs Winning - Abboats

Shut Up and Dance - Abboats

Greatest Reward - modern day mshenko

Dinosaur Brain - Rhys Shepard

The Barn - Rhys Shepard

New Projects/Postings - ongoing

Found Family: A Collection of Drabbles - Caleb Shepard

Keep to the West - Caleb Shepard - ME/WWII

Gaia's Blessings - drabbles for Werewolf Caleb Shepard

Cadenza - Lachlan Shepard

Nerf Gun Wars - mshenko shenanigans

A Lone Light From Shore - modern day mshenko - drabbles

A Beacon of Hope - modern day mshenko

If London Falls... - Abboats

Late Night At the Vortex - drabbles for Rydenko

Dribbles & Drabs - Caleb, Michael, Kristofer Shepard and Abboats drabbles

Ostinato - Lachlan Shepard drabbles

Heiwa ni - Takao Shepard

Never Close Our Eyes - Rhys Shepard - drabbles

Destiny's Fate - ShepShep

The Dye Is Cast - Dragon Age drabbles

These are all the major ones - I'm sure I've forgotten a few of the continuing ones that house certain drabbles, but this'll do.

As I look at this list, I'm remembering some of the ones from earlier in the year I'd forgotten about. It's a good way to remind myself I did more than I thought.

My total word count for the year was: 543,233. Over half a million words. (for comparison, the last time I did a full year's worth of writing (2017) I wrote 668,228 for the year. But the next year, I fizzled out by the time I had 150,000 words (around April) and stopped tracking it. It wasn't until April/May 2020 when Caleb Shepard was born that I got back into writing and I didn't start tracking how much I was writing again until 2021)

My Daily Average word count was 1488. Almost on par with Nano for the year.

Highest Month/Wordcount: April - 70,866

Lowest Month/Wordcount: December - 23,849

So, assuming I can keep on track writing wise, what are my goals for 2022?

make substantial progress on Destiny's Fate. I am almost to the halfway point on that story, but even if I posted once a week from here out, it still won't get done until 2023, but I'm okay with that.

God, Caleb Shepard has been in my brain since mid-2021 and unrelenting! LOL I have a number of AU projects (Werewolves, Celtic, WWII, etc.) going for him that I would like to make progress on or complete, plus a couple of new ones.

I also want to make progress on some of Caleb's mainstream stuff. If I go in order of his timeline, I have an interlude piece for between Akuze and when he's N7 I want to get done, plus a story for once he IS N7 where he and his battle buddy, Rosa Morales-Minton team up (and an unsuspecting Kaidan walks into things...), plus I want to get his post-war fics started and (hopefully!) posted. I have a LOT of writing planned for him, and that's outside of prompts and drabbles!

I'm going to see if I can't get caught up on all my Christmas/Holiday prompts I wanted to do in December and get them posted in July for a "Christmas in July Celebration". That includes another AU story for Caleb and a ton of prompts. Some of my other boys are included too.

I would like to start would like to start exploring Rhys Shepard's experiences at BAaT with Kaidan in more depth and maybe get their story moving forward.

Lachlan... sigh My Scottish/Colonist boy has been so patient with me. He's tossed a TON of ideas at me this past year which I've gotten down, but Caleb's refused to let go of my brain to focus on them. Hopefully this year, it'll happen!

Nerf Gun Wars - I need to add a few more chapters to the ongoing shenanigans there...

As of December 30, 2021, I have a new project idea for 2022 (assuming I can get it going). It may or may not be a contender for MEBB when that rolls around (depending on how developed it is). It has the potential to be REALLY FUN but it may turn into one of those HUGE projects that takes far too long to plot out and plan. Still, it's already underway, so there's always a chance actual writing will begin...

I'm sure I'll adjust my goals and set new ones as the year goes on. I may or may not track my numbers again this year. While I'd like to - there's a certain sense of achievement when I hold myself accountable like this - I also know that with the way things are at the moment, my stress levels may make writing difficult and the lack of numbers can be discouraging (no matter how I tell myself it's okay to not focus on them). Eh, we'll see how it goes.

[mewtarot]

Month of Spreads, Day 2

today's prompt calls for us to shuffle our favorite music (or interact with other media) and then draw some cards to ask what this song is saying to me today.

all things considered, if I'm getting advice today, I want it before I get off work because of where I'm going immediately after (and the social interactions I will have there) so I'm using all mobile tools and in downtime at work. not perhaps the most professional, but I won't necessarily write it up on work time, just record the song and cards that come up

even though I saw the prompt before i left for work, and instructed myself to bring my ipod, which has the exact playlist i immediately thought to use (i occasionally use it for shufflemancy) I promptly forgot to grab it, so I used Spotify instead and since I'm on mobile with a free account, my only option is shuffle.

I clicked on my favorite band and only once the song started did I realize I'd meant to decide before any songs started whether i was using the first song or whether i was skipping 3/5/7 songs and using the 4th/6th/8th. but it is very hard to re-shuffle Spotify so I decided to use the first one so I'm not second guessing myself all day.

I'm... really not at the top of my game this week, to no one's surprise.

anyway, so the song is Analog Kid by Rush. I promptly put it on repeat on YouTube so i could internalize the song and the message from it

I have the Golden Thread Tarot app and while it's excellent for daily readings and pretty good for the spreads it already has programmed in, it doesn't have a general "pull x cards for some other question" mode. so i decided to use the "individual card" option multiple times to pull as many cards as "feel right" rather than try to interpret "what does this song have to say to me" through a past-present-future lens. and if the same card comes up multiple times because the app re-shuffles, I'll accept that as part of the reading.

I started with three cards because so many spreads use exactly three cards, and i do find three to be a good balance of enough information and not overwhelmingly many to interpret.

I had to resize my screen after drawing the first one, in order to see it properly, and then i mistook the just-drawn card for my already-complete daily reading and inadvertently threw it away by going back to the "choose reading" screen. but after that I drew:

and I kind of panicked because this is intense even without looking deeply at the meaning of each card and I couldn't decide whether the impulse to keep drawing cards until i get a Minor Arcana card was real tarot intuition or just morbid curiosity.

okay yeah so much for waiting to write this up until I'm home late tonight - i need to properly interpret the cards to hopefully figure out whether I still need to draw more.

the song on its own merits gives me a strong sense of the stress and chaos of young adult life but also coming of age and finding your place (and peace) in the rush of the adult world

the moon (and a line in one of the verses) reflect on how illusory dreams can be. like dreams are good to have but if I don't know what i want in the real world how can I ever hope to achieve it?

the tower (reversed) and the tempo of all the verses and half of each chorus seem to be calling me out on anxiety again which is.... not surprising. I got a voicemail today while at work that averted something I was panicking about as future disaster. it's just not going to happen.

and temperance (reversed) reminds me to find balance in my life, or hints that something is out of balance. the slower parts of the chorus, which hints at both the need and the ability to find peace.

anyway these all make sense together and it might be a complete reading after all but I'm going to go see how many more cards I'll draw before getting a Minor because I'm still strongly feeling the urge to. if it comes up seeming like the future cards also belong in this reading I'll either reblog or edit this post to add them. and I'll almost certainly include the minor that eventually comes up to identify what the first step out of this chaos-intense part of my life might be

oh and for what it's worth the next song on Spotify was Xanadu. which definitely reminds me of the card The Moon. hmmm

[helmes-deep]

Prompt: Sue's car won't start, so Sean helps her out.

I kind of took this a different way, but here you go!! :D:D

Sometimes, Sean wasn’t sure if he was being nice, or really, really stupid.

Having been raised a Donahue, Sean understood his duty to mature into a wise, beneficial, responsible, and respectable adult. For Sean, that mostly meant that, throughout his life, he’d been told to be carefully mindful of all his life choices, to always uphold the Donahue family name and to never tarnish it, and to serve as the neighborhood’s paragon of moral excellence among the local youth. Such big responsibilities, of course, included the supplemental task of “being nice” to people: to always keep an open heart and mind that was willing and ready to help others.

Truth be told, Sean didn’t mind having grown up the way he had. He saw the reasoning and sense behind his parents’ habitually meticulous and scrupulous ways (although it could be over-bearing at times, he was never going to deny that). Doing copious amounts of “nice” acts for others, such as helping to take the trash out for a sick old lady two doors down, volunteering at every food drive, and spending hours shoveling snow from all of his neighbors’ driveways – all of them: his mother Nancy had insisted that he knock on every door on, next to, or within foreseeable walking distance of their street – had shaped Sean into the very gracious, thoughtful, well-mannered, amiable, and respected young man that he was to hopefully become someday.

It wasn’t like Sean didn’t like to always take the time and energy needed to help others. On the contrary, Sean not only liked, but rather enjoyed, doing nice things for others, and he was always “open” enough and “willing” to offer up his hand to save or relieve someone else. Shoveling for all those hours out in the frosty, icy snow had not only allowed Sean to build some “character,” but also instilled something else within him – the desire to be good, helpful, and a benefit toward and for others, as well as to experience the inevitable joy that came with it. As far as Sean was concerned, “being nice” had its benefits: it allowed him to not only feel the bliss of knowing he’d made the right choices in life, but it also provided him with some necessary dignity, pride, and self-worth, fulfilling part of his life’s purpose. It was one of the reasons why he had wanted to be a doctor when he was younger in the first place. Doctors toiled through med school, worked long hours, and dealt with all kinds of people – including their loved ones – because they wanted their patients to feel not only healthy and physically well, but also happy, content, and safe.

It’s just that, at times, Sean questioned whether his out-going desire to help and fiercely “nice” ways could actually be interpreted as such. He was human after all, and “being nice” had its limits. By “limit,” Sean didn’t mean the point where one no longer had the “open heart” or “mind” to give (although he’d admit there were times when he’d arrive at such a point, occasionally; “being nice” could be exhausting), but in regard to the act of “being nice” to others itself. Like that time his mom had told him to scrub through their neighborhood and ask every single person whose door was still standing if they needed any snow to be shoveled off of their driveway. He’d done as she’d asked, ending up at an old lady’s door at 6 in the evening, about 2 miles away from his house. The old woman had been clearly grateful and completely touched (she had made him a cup of hot cocoa afterwards, and even gifted him with a small bag of Christmas cookies, to boot).

But, at some point, he had also sensed her disbelief. From her wheelchair, she had watched him vigorously dig up and pile out all the ice and snow that had accumulated on her driveway – then her front porch, and then backyard. And as he continued to robustly work at the chilled white dust, attempting to carve out with his spade a clean and clear pathway that reached from her back porch all the way to where the road met her driveway, Sean couldn’t help but think that a small part of her was slightly taken aback by his gesture. Shocked – maybe even a little disturbed – that a boy of his age had walked this block and more to simply ask if anyone wanted to have snow shoveled off their driveway, and was even trying to excavate her entire house of the stuff, at this hour. That his great “act of kindness,” on some scale, could be considered outlandish, excessive. Insane. A thought had then occurred to him: could making the right life choices end up playing you for a fool? Was it possible to be too nice?? Was that even a thing???

And that’s when he would start to feel stupid. A fraction of embarrassment; a twinge of doubt. That maybe he wasn’t being entirely truthful with himself when he was trying his hardest to deliver others out of a pinch. Not that he’d lost the ability to be genuinely “nice” to others, necessarily, after being told too many times to do so – but that’d he’d mindlessly mastered it. That he was always willing to help and had a ready mind to do so, regardless of the circumstances. Worse: he didn’t know when to stop. That he couldn’t tell when “enough” was enough, or “too much” was too much. Regardless of anyone’s personal or sensible reservations about having him help them out.

He didn’t always have this conflict when he was going out of his way for someone. Just sometimes. The feeling of uncertainty would only occasionally form in the back of his mind when his supposedly overly-courteous and gracious nature intersected with certain people in his life. Especially when it came to his current girlfriend. Especially when it came to Sue.

A sudden, low-vibrating ring came from his back pocket. Sean quickly moved to take out his phone, momentarily pausing from reviewing last-minute for a bio final he was supposed to have in about an hour.

“Hi, Dad?” he could hear as the caller on the other side of the line responded. It was Sue. Her voice was slightly hesitant, and she sounded a little worried.

“Hey, Sue, what’s up?” greeted Sean. He hadn’t been expecting a call from her right now.

“Sean? Oh, sorry, I must have speed-dialed the wrong number,” Sue apologized quickly. There was an odd pause at her end.

“What’s the matter?” Sean asked, flinching uneasily in his seat as the other students present in the study area gave him a look, reminding him that they were last-minute cramming for their exams, too.

“Oh, nothing; it’s just my car,” Sue explained. “It… somehow broke down in the middle of the highway on my way back to East Indy after I’d made a quick stop home. I don’t know what’s exactly wrong with it, but for some reason, it won’t start…” Sean could hear Sue’s voice fade out for a second, as if she were turning to take a look at something some distance away. “I’m about 30 minutes away from Easy Indy,” Sue continued as her concerned voice returned through the speaker, “Halfway between it and Orson. Ugh, I didn’t really want to miss class for this, but oh well.” He heard her sigh briefly over the phone. “Thanks for picking up, Sean. I’m going to hang up now and call my dad– “

“Hang in there for a bit; I’ll meet you in about half an hour,” Sean responded, checking the library’s clock against the time on his own watch. He wasn’t sure if Sue was about to protest, thank him, or both, but he had already ended the call before he could hear her response. In a moment, Sean had quickly gathered all of his books and studying materials into his bag, put on his jacket, and headed out of the study hall door – keys in hand.

Perhaps “being nice” meant, Sean thought, as he took the nearest exit headed to Orson, that you only went as far as the other person wanted you to. That you were only as “nice” or “helpful” as the other person’s desired level. And that was it. Because anything above that limit would be uncomfortable – had the potential to turn awkward. Or strange. Whatever. All Sean knew was that, at this moment, he didn’t seem particularly bothered by whatever it was he was about to do. Rather, it felt like the right thing to do, and he felt good about it. So he did it, taking his car and heading down the highway toward Orson – away from his school and farther from his school’s study hall – looking for Sue.

While such thoughts kept running through his head as he pumped the gas and was on the look-out for a bright pink jacket, Sean’s thoughts completely passed away once he’d spotted her – about 35 miles from her university, standing alone and anxious on the side of the road. New thoughts, new feelings – the kind he felt when he was reaching out to help someone – came pouring into him as he hastily parked his car on the side of the road and jumped out of it. Those feelings heightened when, after running up to and warmly hugging her, he’d asked if she was okay (she was), took a look at her car, made a call, and offered to drive her back to East Indy as a truck came by to tow the car away. Her smile was all he needed: he felt good; he felt like he had done the right thing. That certainty, however, seemed to steadily fade as he began the drive back to his girlfriend’s campus, dropped her off with a quick kiss, and started leaving for his own school’s campus as well.

He decided he was entirely and utterly stupid when he had finally arrived at the right school building and was rushing into the exam room where he was to take his bio final, already 45 minutes late. His feelings of lunacy were solidified as his professor gave him an oddly questioning, slightly judgmental look – probably for the first time that year – and reluctantly handed Sean his exam to be completed with the remaining allotted time (1 hour). It all felt like that time he had driven for hours and miles before arriving at his then-crush’s door to ask her to the ball – only to be rejected – or the time before that, when he’d basically re-arranged his entire universe (that time, he had to re-schedule an entire exam, among other things) just to ask Sue to her senior prom. She had been grateful, yes, but also a little bit disconcerted, as he could tell by the weirdly surprised look on her face.

It wasn’t the best grade he would ever end up getting on an exam – although it was still enough for him to pass the class, as he would later note to himself with (some) relief later. But as Sean hastily scooted into his seat and took out his pencil, organized his exam papers – and mentally prepared himself to take his biology final – he decided that he didn’t really care whether his kind gestures or overly helpful nature ended putting him on the list labeled “stupid,” rather than the “nice” one.

Sure, he conceded that whatever he had been compelled to do for the past hour, instead of mindfully preparing for this exam, made him feel like a complete idiot. No doubts about that. But, for whatever reason, Sean Donahue himself felt no remorse for his actions, despite the foolishness. No regret. In fact, he felt rather energized and inspired to complete this test, if anything.

Perhaps, Sean thought, as his pencil went to bubble in the first answer to the test, “being nice” did have its limits. Sometimes, people weren’t expecting your help and didn’t quite know what to do about it. Sometimes, you could overdo it and didn’t know when to stop. But, it was okay to feel foolish about it (generally-speaking). Because, despite pushing those limits, you’d never broken them for yourself in the first place. Rather, you’d gone beyond your own capabilities and expectations – and perhaps anyone else’s, for that matter – because you had wanted so desperately to please and satisfy that other person. To create the most joy, happiness, security, and well-being for someone else.

Someone you cared for, someone you loved.

It was fun writing in Sean’s perspective for once, instead of mostly Sue’s. Also was a bit more introspective, but I hope you enjoyed it!!

Send me a prompt and I’ll write a short Sue x Sean fanfic about it leoool