#learning how to navigate my own creative process without getting burnt out has been a challenge and im really trying to not care as much

[jjbemakingthings]

Hi, this is your consistent reminder that creatively speaking, you can do whatever the fuck you want.

You don't have to follow rules to a T.

You see that monthly prompt list? You don't have to follow it directly. You can adapt it to what you are able or simply just want to do.

Just because you aren't pumping out a pristine piece every single day doesn't mean you aren't participating, sometimes even something as small as writing down the concept can count if you want it to.

Just because it SAYS you're supposed to write a mini fic, or not be associated with prior works that doesn't mean you HAVE to listen to that.

Creativity is magical and whatever you want it to be.

It still inspired you regardless.

Work at your own pace and don't let "rules" scare you.

If you want to create, create.

[sixmorningsafter]

Did She Really Love Me?

Okay, so. Without getting into too much detail, here’s how the past couple of months (in regards to SMA of course) have been: I started the review for the most recent chapter as soon as it came out, but it was too emotional (and boy, I was too emotional) to even try. I tried again maybe a month or so later, but writer’s block and Emotions were not about it. Then, I thought, let’s be creative with SMA crack, and I started doing wedding drabbles + moodboards because ya know, I’m planning a wedding (remind me to show you The Dress). I finished the steroline one, but then my laptop crashed. Violently. So, that was fun. Idk if I can recover anything off my laptop, but it seems like I may not be able to. That’s another story and drama entirely.

Now, I have a new laptop, so that’s good. But then, I heard Did You Really Love Me by Jeff Carl:

Did ya really love me? Did ya even know how much I cared? Did ya really know me? Oh, I’m feelin’ so unprepared. It’s getting harder to breathe. We had such good, why did you leave? What did you think that you need that you couldn’t find it in me?

So, I wrote this Stefonnie, post-Stelena drabble/one-shot whatever. Enjoy the angst.

“Wow. Okay. Um…”

Stefan isn’t even concerned by Bonnie’s sudden presence in his apartment. If he’s honest, he’s been seeing and hearing things for the past three weeks, barely functioning on a minimal amount of sleep. He knows she’s referring to the whirlwind of his apartment, things he’s tossed and toppled, but he is unbothered.

Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.

“Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”

A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

She looks like she’s navigating a booby-trap. She sits next to his contorted body on the sofa. The way his arms wrap around him, you’d think he was a mummy. Petrified by shock and loss.

“I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare. Stefan…”

She pushes hair away from his forehead, and he knows it’s dramatic when he flinches, but he can’t help it. Physical contact hurts. Everything hurts. He catches a glimpse of her frown, but he knows under the worry is anger.

“Okay, first things first.” She pops up. “We’re going to get you some food. Then, we’ll…” She surveys the room—then frowns. “Is this an e-cigarette?”

He doesn’t smoke, so he understands the confusion. He doesn’t even have the courage to even look in her direction. Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.

She ignores it and orders Chinese food. Their favorite—now his favorite—is right across the street. His stomach whines, but he won’t be able to keep it down.

“Don’t order from there,” he rasps as she’s almost done. She startles at his wrecked voice. “Order from the one by you.”

Understanding, she nods. She cancels the order and speed-dials her Chinese restaurant. She orders the same food. As she listens to the employee read the order back, she studies the room. He knows she wants to clean it—that’s how she usually gets out of her own funks—but she would need his help. Help he is unwilling to give.

“Thanks.” She hangs up and looks at him. They make eye contact, and he knows her heart goes out to him. She inhales deeply before clapping her hands together. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you into the shower. When you’re all clean, the food will be here by then, hopefully, and then we’ll eat, and we’ll see about cleaning this—”

Her perky singsong tone strikes something, and he heaves a sob he didn’t know was still in him.

“Oh, hon—”

“What did I miss?” he croaks. Bonnie’s optimism crumples into pity. He knows all her faces. He knew all of her faces. “What did she need that I didn’t give her? That I couldn’t give her? I gave her everything.”

His fingers curl into his palms. He did give her everything—every part of him, anything she asked. What did he do to drive her into the arms of another man? He could scoff—how could he even call this other guy a ‘man’? What man steals another’s love?

His lungs burn.

How could he have been so blindsided? God, he thought they were on the same page. Love at first sight, a true love, damning how young or how little they knew about one another—it was an epic, long-lasting love that learns every secret, every tic, everything as the long, beautiful years go on.

Love? Beauty? He does scoff. Fallacies he’s bought into, he’s fed on all these years.  

When Bonnie seizes him in a strong embrace, he realizes she’s the only one who can keep him grounded right now. Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).

Muffled against her chest, he manages, “We were perfect.”

“No couple is perfect.” Her reminder is gentle. It stings less coming from her. “No one is perfect, not even you.” It’s a hook for a joke, but she recognizes he’s not biting. “People are selfish, and people mess up… monumentally.”

“Did she really love me?”

Bonnie squeezes his shoulders, and they sit. They sit and sit, listening to the sounds of life right outside his window, of the city and of the birds and the wind. Listening to sounds of life right in the room, of the thundering silence surrounding their own breathing and heartbeats.

Someone knocks on his door. It’s the delivery guy. Bonnie presses an uncharacteristic kiss to his temple and leaves. Symbolic, really. The apartment smells of salt and savor. She returns and gently untangles his arms.

“You’re going to shower—no sad music video renditions—” she tries to garner a laugh, but he barely lifts the corners of his mouth. “Then, we feast.”

He knows she means well, as she shuffles him into the bathroom. She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart. He knows she means well, as she blasts 90’s hip hop and rap on his stereo, no doubt trying to bring order back to his living room.

But under the running water, in the overwhelming scent of a generic shampoo and not the warm vanilla he was used to, he is still crushed by his unanswered question.

Did she really love me?

–

this year’s been rough in many ways, one of which is the first full piece I’ve written since April maybe? feels good to write again. hope your holidays were fun and restful <3

A/N below the cut:

OKAY, so to begin with: I have a theory that sometimes, even though it defies all that ‘practice makes perfect’ shit we’ve been hearing our whole lives, taking a lengthy break from writing can actually make you better. Dunno if it has to do with a chance to break from your routine and then come back with a fresh voice, or if you just come back on less of an autopilot than you were in before, but one way or another, it happens sometimes, and THIS IS TOTALLY THAT. I know you feel rusty but GIIIIRRRLLL, this was LOVELY.

Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.

AHHHHH.

His chest caves around his sad heart.

AHHHHH.

 Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.

I cackled.

Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).

Lexi was the not-gonna-say-I-called-it-but-I-highkey-called-it sister and Rebekah was the ‘omg I know let’s use this opportunity for a much-needed makeover’ sister. 

She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart.

AHHHHHH.

Okay, before I just quote the shit out of this whole thing, I’ll reign it in: you captured Stefan and Bonnie’s relationship so friggin’ perfectly. Bonnie would absolutely be a blend of empathy, humor, and tough BFF love, and Stefan would absolutely be that balance of wallowing drama and genuine heartbreak. You did such a marvelous job toeing that line - it’s so easy to just take the humor route and trivialize his theatrics when it comes to this breakup (I do it all the time, lololol), but between the humorous bits of melodrama, you genuinely made my heart break for him. I could feel his devastation. Devastated Disney prince. Also, you did such a fantastic job capturing the tension in the room and the quiet, desolate atmosphere. It felt like the aftermath of a natural disaster, like some bomb had detonated a few weeks ago and Stefan was just still sitting in the wreckage of it all, resigned, ash and burnt-edged debris settled all around him. The beats of silence and processing during their conversation gave it such a realistic pace, and I loved all of Stefan’s thoughts throughout it. Especially loved this one: 

Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”

A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.

Just felt so genuinely human. Also loved the detail about the Chinese place and how he had her order the exact same food from a different one. Very real. 

Anyway, I miss the crap out of you and your writing (PLEASE GET BACK TO WRITING, AND IF YOU WANT TO USE SMA AS AN EASY WAY TO EDGE BACK INTO IT, I CAN’T THINK OF A BETTER REASON FOR SMA TO EXIST). Also, your wedding dress is a legit DREAM. I don’t even really get too into weddings and stuff but gah, I’m so excited for yours. It’s definitely been a tough year for me too, but I’m beyond thrilled for the good things coming ahead for you and I want all the updates re: you and Ryan. 

LOVE YA GIRL.