#there's just a point where i'm chucking it in the fuck it bucket

[chocobothis]

I’m at the point that Axe Woves now is a mix of human and Arkanian Offshoot. A little bit is because I want to diversify the Mandalorians from just humans. Mostly it’s because I spent too long developing him as Pre’s bff to scrap that now. 

Congrats bud. One of your parents was genetically engineered to live longer and age slower because the Arkanians created them for specialty work. Which honestly can explain part of the Axeness he’s got going on.

[yoori-ya]

Emotionally charged situations still overload my circuits. This is the--what, the tenth surge? My nerves feel a little crispy, blog, but thankfully nothing seems to have broken off yet. Thankfully, I'm holding it together.

you've changed, is what I hear, but I never noticed until things came full circle. I guess for the last few months, there's been no reason for me to go on attack mode. I'm also a little startled by me and my own reaction.

Processing processing:

I spent years letting those two dummies run recklessly around my house. Kid Lori thought it was fun--she liked the attention. They did it because they loved her (she told herself). The dysfunction was normal. Then, one of them--a known pyromaniac--gets drunk and sets fire to the entire thing. When he realizes what he's done, he flies off the handle in panic and runs around like a headless chicken, causing even more destruction as he screams about how sorry he is. I snap, and give him the boot. The fire is raging. It consumes the house. Kid Lori is crying. I'm throwing buckets of water at it. It's like taking a squirt gun to a wildfire. My friends are trying to help with their own buckets of water. Nothing is working. I'm thinking, maybe this is it. Finally, I dial in for professional help. It's a long fucking process, but we manage to smother the flames. I spend the next eight months rebuilding the house. My friends contribute. It's still sparse, but coming along. Things are peaceful. Kid Lori is safe and happy in her room--no one's bothering her. It's going to fucking stay that way.

Then out of the fucking blue, J comes crashing through the wall like the Kool-aid Guy. "Ohhhhh yeahhh." Ohhhh no, you fucking jerk, do you know how long it took me to put that up? The front door is right there, fucking knock. How fucking dare you. My friends behind me are horrified. "What the fuck is that, Lori?" I have no fucking clue, but House Fucking Rules: you want a seat at my table? You learn some fucking manners first.

Sheepishly, J sees himself out and tries the door, seeing if he can sneak in with his old shit, and Boom he comes face to face with a three-headed watch dog that even I didn't know was there. The dog takes a vicious chunk out of him, and I'm sure he's shocked. We both are. He been trying to get around it (you're important to me! I care about you!), but there is no fucking way it's gonna be that easy. He tells me about D, who is still out on the front porch crying not knowing why he was given the boot. Kid Lori is sad about this, so for her, I chuck 3-pages of instructions for the passcode at his head, give J his marching orders ("just be his fucking friend through this"), then close the door on them.

End of a chapter.

.

.

.

"I  was ripped in two (even more stress to the trauma!), because there was a time when I wanted to inflict as much pain as possible on him, but on the other hand, I knew I would regret it deeply. I felt so trapped it got to the point where I thought about ending it for myself. So, yes, Josh, I guess I would rather fucking die than hurt the people i love. But, since I also have a sense of self-preservation and money on hand, I put myself through therapy instead, hoping I’d find the answer there, and largely it’s worked. I was responsible and took care of my hurt and my problems to make sure I wouldn’t bleed all over my people—that is fucking caring."

Proud of you, Kid Lori. I guess that's really what I wanted to say to myself.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Just Call Me Cupid

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader(Platonic)

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List:

Prompts: 15, 24 & 25

"Could you be anymore annoying?"/"Maybe I can make it up to you by...taking you roughly in the barn."/"[Y/N or Character] DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!"

Warnings: Swearing (always)

-Part One-

You know how the story goes. Three mischievous Gryffindors bonding over pranks and countless detentions. Becoming inseparable during their first year, and sticking together through thick and thin. That was the relationship between Y/n y/l/n and Fred and George Weasley. She fit into their lives perfectly. Her humour was exactly like theirs. She liked the same sports. Had the same classes. The same friends. Although one would wager that y/n held all the common sense of the three, always sure to rein the Twins in if they were edging too close to a line they shouldn't cross.

They used to joke she were the "Missing Triplet". Unknowingly separated from them at birth. They'd even gone as far one year to dye her hair fire orange, referring to her as Y/n Weasley for months.

With every passing holiday the Twins would bring y/n home with them. Her home life wasn't particularly grand, it was adequate in a way but had nothing on life at the Burrow. Molly welcomed her everytime with open arms. It wasn't uncommon for her to stay the entire holiday, start to finish, as she got along so well with the family, all of whom loved her like their own sister and, in Mr and Mrs Weasleys case, own daughter. So of course this Summer would be no different.

As the second week of their holiday came around; Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Y/n and even Hermione found themselves left to their own accord for the day as Percy and Mr Weasley had work and Mrs Weasley had errands to run.

The group woke to a fully prepared breakfast waiting for them and a completely chore-free schedule, a rarity in this home.

"Morning all" y/n greeted cheerily as she entered the kitchen. "Someone's happy this morning" "I'm happy every morning, Georgie." She replied as she made her way around the table with a spring in her step. "Oo, toast!" She exclaimed reaching for a single piece balancing on the edge of Ronald's plate, which earned her a stern slap across the wrist from the boy. "Damn. Relax! It's not like I went for a piece of bacon..." "Careful, y/n/n" began Harry from beside her, "that's a sure fire way to lose a hand." He joked. "Oh, right! I'm so sorry I forgot!-"

"RONALD, DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!" everyone, aside from Ron, shouted amusedly before falling into loud laughter. This had been a long running joke amongst the friends and family after Ron had yelled the line at dinner one night years ago. Y/n had to grip the back of Rons chair to stop from falling as he scowled at the groups mockery. "Oh sod off. HEY!" Y/n stole a piece of bacon from Rons otherside while he had been distracted. "Payment for one viscous assault on your favourite sister." She goaded taking a bite from the crispy piece of meat. "You're not even related." "Not yet." Smiling across the table she shot George a wink. George grinned, tongue pressed to cheek as his brow raised amused by her insinuation, in response he pursed his lips blowing her a kiss.

Y/n finally made her way around the table to a vacant seat by Freds side, chuckling lightly at Rons uncomfortable expression.

"Wow y/n, can't believe you'd really settle for the less-attractive Twin." Fred feigned insult as George threw a piece of crust at him. "I didn't. Otherwise I would have chosen you, wouldn't I?" She smiled innocently.

Fred's jaw dropped open in shock at her words. Though he fought hard to contain the smile and laugh forming on his lips, Fred was unsuccessful, cheeks grinning as a chuckle made it's way from his throat.

"WOW!" he placed a hand to his chest, "wound me why don't you?" He looked back to his gathered friends and family, all of whom were laughing at his dramatic reaction. "That's my girl", George spoke fondly, leaning back in his chair, hand hung behind Fred to y/n as they low-fived.

"Some 'best friend' you are." Fred continued, "and GINNY! I can't believe you would laugh at such a heinous lie! I thought we were closer than that!" Ginnys face were so red it near rivalled her hair at this point. Fred turned his attention back to y/n to find her face a similar shade, light joyful tears brimming in her eyes. He stuck his bottom lip out in a fake pout. "Awwe...Freddie..." she tried to speak, "come on, you know you're my favourite" she leant into his side - hugging his arm - placing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"OI!" her 'future husband' protested, "I'm right here!" "Sorry Georgie, gotta keep my options open. You know how it is."

The remainder of the meal was spent discussing how to fill in their first day home alone for the holidays. Everyone was excited at the prospect of a potential Quidditch match, except Hermione - the only one who doesn't play the sport, and the sloppy ground outside from the past days rain didn't appear very inviting in her opinion. Their plan was thwarted regardless as Ginny reminded the Boys of their current grounding.

Fred, Ron and George had all been forbidden access to their brooms and Quidditch equipment for two weeks, after accidentally breaking a kitchen window with a bludger - released too soon near the house. In the end everyone simply parted into their own groups.

Ginny and Hermione disappeared to her room, Ron and Harry to his, while the remaining three spent the day outside.

Fred, George and y/n were partaking in some 'friendly' bits of competition to occupy their time. It started innocently enough; "let's see who can throw a Garden Gnome the farthest". But naturally, as all three individuals were highly competitive, it escalated. It was all out War by the afternoon.

Basically, they were now running around, breathless and sweaty, chucking mud cakes in their "opponents" direction. A total free for all.

As a cramp set in y/ns ribs she sought shelter behind a shrub by side of the Burrow, trying desperately to spot either Twin and failing. She was thankful however for the opportunity to catch her breath. That was untill...

"Tired are we?" Startled by the sudden voice y/n jumped eye's locking with those of George who stood far too confidently before her, hands tucked behind his back, as he smirked. Y/ns eyes widened, this couldn't be good. Her eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area. No sign of Fred. That definitely isn't good. She began stepping away slowly from the redhead infront of her who cocked his head at her movements slowly following. Smile only growing as he lowered an arm revealing a metal pail filled with sludge.

"Oh God. George, please no!" Her arms came out in defence, "I'm begging you...Georgie, please don't!" Though worried and pleading she couldn't help the nervous smile and giggle that came to the surface. Eyes staring into his "I'll do anything! Mate, please just...put. down. The bucket."

George let out a long sigh, contemplating, as he swung the pail loosely in his hand staring to it's contents. With a dramatic roll of his head and a groan he dropped the bucket by his feet. "Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" Y/n repeated, relieved. "Had you done that I'd never get my chance..." Georges brows furrowed, "chance for what?" "THIS!" Y/n scooped up a large mud patty from her feet, hurtling it directly across the side of his face, laughing maniacally. Though as George slowly scooped away the gathered muck on his eye, flicking it off his fingers, she couldn't help but feel bad. A little anyway. Offering a half-hearted apology as he wiped away the dirt by his mouth.

"Oh you're sorry, are you?" He began advancing on her again, "to think I took it easy on you, my 'loving' wife-to-be." He added sarcastically. Y/n gulped as she noticed the new found determination held in his gaze. Laughter turning nervous as she backed away. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you by...taking you roughly in the barn?" "Mmm tempting. But I have a better idea" he smirked wickedly. Y/ns face dropped as she made to run, but she wasn't fast enough, George wrapped his arms around her body holding her tight in place. "Not so fast, love." He lifted her from her feet walking blindly back towards the house. "No! Please no!" She whined through giggles, "Geoooorge" "It's not me you should be worried about, sweetheart." He whispered to her ear. Huh?

"Oooooh FREDDIE!" he called over his shoulder. FUCK! Where was Fred!?

George turned sharply on the spot and y/n suddenly found herself face to face with one Fred Weasley, complete with bucket. Only this one wasn't the same from earlier, it was bigger. And filled with...what was that? Oh god. Ice.

"Woah y/n/n, you look really flustered. Reckon you might need to cool off." He grinned. "Freddie, I was thinking exactly the same thing." Georges grip on y/n tightened as she began to squirm furiously. Pleading them not to. Fred raised the bucket in his arms as she slipped to the ground, George pinning her down and tugging back the side of her shirts collar.

Fred leaped into action, pouring the buckets contents over her exposed shoulder so the ice would fall down her back as well as down her chest. Y/n squealed at the brisk temperature change. Breath hitching and shuddering in response. The boys jumped back as she scrambled to her feet, shaking the material of her shirt to lose the ice still clinging beneath it. Various curses and insults being shot to the twins whilst doing so.

"Prats." She shivered, "the both of you. Prats." All three couldn't contain their laughter at this. George excused himself for a moment to rid his eye of a few pesky grains of dirt under his eyelid.

He dunked his head under the tap of the kitchen sink in order to rinse his eye, and face while he was at it, clean before filling himself a glass of water having become quite hot from all the running he'd done this afternoon. A sudden yell pulled his attention out the window.

Chuckling as he watched Fred frantically running from y/n who held the bucket of mud George had threatened her with earlier.

Fred was running backwards with his arms raised trying desperately to bargain his way out of his punishment. George could only just make out the conversation carrying on in the moment.

"Come on, said I was sorry didn't I?" "Why don't you put the bucket down and I'll run you a bath" "I have a stash of chocolate frogs upstairs you can help yourself to!" George was amused by that line in particular as he knew for certain that stash was well and truly gone, days ago, as he and y/n had helped themselves to it whilst he showered.

Fred were a fairly safe distance away as he out manoeuvred his friend easily with such long legs and lack of bucket. He probably could have kept up their little dance for some time, enough for her to admit defeat, if he had not tripped back over his own feet. George snorted at the sight, water nearly shooting from his nose, as his brother fell flat on his back. Y/n seized her moment. Standing above him with bucket raised smiling.

Many 'please's, and 'y/n's and of course countless 'no's falling from Fred mouth, all in vain as the bucket tipped above him. Contents hitting directly to his chest and covering him in filth. George really wished he had a camera right about now.

"What are you laughing at?" Ginny had appeared, grabbing a glass of water for herself. "Y/n getting revenge." "Why aren't you out there?" "To avoid exactly that happening to me." The two watched as Fred stood, wrapping himself around y/n to smear mud over her body as well, swaying them side-to-side dramatically as he did so. Muffled shrieks came from her mouth which was pressed tight against his chest.

"Mum's going to have a field day with you three." Ginny commented, placing down her cup as she ascended the staircase. George inhaled sharply as his jaw clenched at the thought. His eyes scanned the yard...they had made quite the mess. He wondered if they'd ever be allowed to play Quidditch again. Or even be allowed out of the house for that matter. His thoughts were cut short as his attention fell back to his brother and best friend.

They'd stopped rough-housing. Y/n pushing back from him with a huff. She stood before him with a pout, covered completely in muck. Fred was laughing haughtily at the sight as he took a step forward, sweeping a dirty piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers delicately traced her cheek bone and down toward her lips which had parted slightly as she stared at him. His head was hung towards her as he gazed back, hand now resting just below her jaw. Both slowly leaning closer...

The moment was over as quickly as it'd began, by Fred clearing his throat and dropping his arm, both hands finding his pockets and standing back a pace. He had said something about needing a shower to which y/n laughed awkwardly, avoiding any further eye contact.

"Ho-ly FUCK!" George exclaimed to himself as realisation hit him like a bag of bricks. "They fancy one another" his eyes were wide. How hadn't he noticed before?

The way their eyes seemed to linger on one anothers a tad longer than two friends would. The shameless flirting. The "innocent" light touches. How Fred always had his arm over her shoulder if he could. The quick kisses to their cheeks. The blushing. The way Fred tensed, white knuckled, when boys were 'too friendly' with y/n. The way y/ns teeth would grind as girls would fall over Fred. It all seemed so obvious now.

Without a second moments thought George bolted up the stairs.

Hermione and Ginny sat cross-legged on her bed, chatting casually about the upcoming school year and what excitement it may hold, when the bedroom door violently swung open. Slamming into the wall, one hot, sweaty and very much out of breath George clung to its handle.

The girls stared wide-eyed at the sight. "...yes?" Ginny asked curiously. Her brother was a sputtering mess, attempting to speak through deep burning breaths. "F-Fre-and y/...Fred and y/n!" He gasped, arms waved and flailing dramatically trying to make them understand him in his frantic state. "They-they're...they fancy one another!" He finally exclaimed before clutching his side painfully, "Oh, cramp".

Ginny and Hermione looked at one another with identical blank stares before shrugging simply, "We know" they spoke. "You KNOW!?" "It's pretty obvious." Said Hermione. A deep, frustrated, sigh left Georges throat, his head rolled and he flopped heavily into the small space between both girls, the action causing them to bounce.

"Could you be anymore annoying?" Ginny groaned but George ignored her, "This is unbelievable." "Is it though?" His sister questioned. "They're always all over one another. Always staring when they think the other's not looking." "Not to mention they're perfect for one another." Hermione giggled " "He stops her from stressing too much over school work, keeps her out of her shell when she's struggling. And she very well may be the only person on the planet capable of settling him down when he gets worked up."

"Do you think they know?" George asked, eyes fixed to the ceiling. "Not a chance" "Absolutely not." The girls answered. "Look how long it took you to realise, and you're their best friend." Added Hermione causing Georges brows to furrow. She had a point. They'd spent nearly every day together since they met in their first year. Practically attached at the hip and yet it only clicked now.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around how he was feeling at the moment as too many thoughts flooded his mind.

Was he worried? Excited? What if they dated? Would they hang out with him less, as a result? Would it work out? What if they broke up!?

"My best friend and my brother..." he wondered aloud, tone sceptical. The girls remained silent as George thought, chewing his cheek. The atmosphere was tense as they worried over his reaction. That was until a wide smile crept its way across his face. "My best friend and my brother." He spoke louder, more assured, with a curt approving nod. "I'm gonna make it happen." He stated matter-of-factly as he lifted himself from the bed, making his way to the door.

"And how, pray tell, are you going to manage that?" "Easily, my dear sister." George looked over his shoulder as he grabbed the doors handle, "Just call me Cupid." He winked, quickly shutting the door as he left with a smirk.

[luthorao3]

I forgot I sent in the Selkie!MC thought! But thank you for reminding me and also thanks for the Nadia thought because now all that's in my head is this following idea of how she finds out about MC (if you have your own idea please share, I'm just chucking mine out because I'm a mess for these characters and the myth and folklore genres).

Also forgive the length of it, I started typing and the idea grew much, much further than intended. I should not be as invested in mythical and folklore creatures as I am, but once I start thinking it does. not. stop.

Anyway, here's the initial idea I had:

Nadia's not a fan of hypocritical behaviour because, fine, some people have moral codes but at least have the strength of character to stick to them. So she's annoyed about the Poppy having a pet seal, so maybe she decides to be petty about it and give them the metaphorical finger.

How does she decide to do this?

By kidnapping the seal and releasing it back into the wild of course!

She figures out quite quickly that the seal in question isn't always in the pool, but for the life of her she can't find out where they keep it indoors. Is there a hidden water tank inside she doesn't know about? If there is she can't find it, which leaves the pool as the only viable option to take the "poor, trapped animal" from.

And sure, MC loves being (as you perfectly put it) a menace in the pool when others are around, but sometimes she just likes to swim yk? So she goes swimming on her own sometimes.

And during one of Nadia's checkups on the spot, she sees the seal splashing around unsupervised and sees her chance.

MC does not expect the net.

She thrashes, of course, but at first thinks it's an ill-advissd, not very sensitive prank and is just like "I'm gonna kill them" until she realises exactly who has just pulled her out of the water.

The plan for Nadia had been to use a seal-carrier bag usually used by rescuers after getting the seal out of the net.

The plan absolutely had not included the thrashing seal to almost immediately shift into an infuriated MC because she recognises the bag Nadia's holding and it might not exactly be a cage but it's pretty close and she doesn't know what the hell Nadia wants with a seal so she's at least going to get into a form where she can defend herself.

Nadia's of course frozen in shock and barely avoids getting her nose broken again.

The Poppy hear MC shouting and come running, and Vivienne nearly kills Nadia the moment she sees the net, the bag and MC clinging to her sealskin. The rest of the Poppy are fully ready to throw down but it's Nadia's shock that saves her because she just blurts out "You're a SEAL?" And the Poppy pauses because they're like "...you aren't trying to take her coat?"

"Wtf would I do that? You think I need sealskin?"

And they really don't like this situation, they don’t want to be in a position where they have to trust Nadia because, yk, it's Nadia, but they can't kill her either (Vivienne does ask again if they can reconsider their no killing rule, but this time she's only half joking) so they don't really have a choice. They chuck her out as fast as possible because they are not explaining anything that could give her leverage and also they don't want her around MC, and Nadia's more than happy to book it out of there because she needs more information but her mind is still reeling (MC, seal, MC, seal, MC is the seal, what the-). The Poppy move to another penthouse and are gearing up to dispell any rumours that might "crop up" about MC in the Underworld, practicing scoffing in people's faces like "Selkies? You mean like magic? That doesn't exist!"

But Nadia doesn't spread any rumours, there's just total silence, nothing to indicate that anyone's heard anything about Selkies or seals.

And nobody's going to, because once Nadia's done her research and worked out that, yes, MC is an apparently not-so-mythical Selkie, she knows she isn't going to tell anyone (aside from looking insane if she did so, she also does want to win the Poppy over and stealing a pet seal is one thing but this is on an entirely different level).

Of course her research of Selkies inevitably raises the point of how important MC's sealskin coat actually is, and it clicks in her brain exactly what the Poppy thought she was doing by attempting to kidnap MC, and Nadia's a terrible human being, okay? Absolutely terrible, she would kill a man without hesitation, she would wreck someone's life in all kinds of ways, but she wouldn't do that. She gets the implications of what taking the coat would mean immediately, what it looked like to the Poppy by the pool before they realised she didn't know, hadn't worked it out.

And the Poppy don't hear anything, not for a while, as Nadia tries to work out how to approach the situation, until she gets wind of Vivienne punching a man who hadn't known that MC was a Selkie, but had thought that the sealskin coat looked very nice and tried to steal it.

He ends up dead in a couple days.

please never never apologise holy shit also please tell me you write??? please tell me you have fic somewhere that i can read because oh my gos your mind???? i’m about to go zombie weird on you and your beautiful brain lmaoooo this had me laughing out loud!! nadia ‘releasing the poor, captive seal back into the wild’ ajdjdjfkfkfk.

all i could imagine when i read that, though, was— you know that one scene in the parent trap? where the twins take meredith (??) camping, and as she’s sleeping they drag her blow up mattress out into the middle of the lake? like either THAT or the fucking aristocats, with MC waking up in the middle of the wilds hearing a toad croak directly beside her ear like ‘MAMA? D:’

but oh my GOSH!!!!! at nadia understanding the implications of her rescue attempt looking like she’s trying to steal MC’s coat. oh god. i can’t tell you how much of a sucker i am when it comes to ‘yes, i will do unquestionably evil acts, but i don’t fuck with kids/animals/vulnerable people’ villains. you sexy piece of shit. 😔👌

also can we just for a second appreciate after everything calms down nadia rocking up to mc with like a bucket of fish or smth equally awful because she is still, alas, a rat bastard. <3

[luckystarchild]

first off i just wanna say i love lucky child, it's definitely one of my favorite yyh fics of all time! i'm just wondering how you got the confidence to write something like this? i mean, i've had a Kuwabara x oc fic in my head since 2008 and though i'm obv better at writing i'm still nervous about putting myself out there. even with lucky child to inspire me

(*I apologize for taking your Ask WAY OUT OF PROPORTION andturning it into an extended metaphor about buckets and stage fright, but I amNOT a confident person and this is the only thing I could think of that wouldaddress my feelings about confidence, nerves, and just digging deep and gettingyour work out there. Sorry again! It’s long, and I hope it’s not terrible,haha.*)

Confidence is a tricky thing. And the secret is that no oneis as confident as you think they are.

In high school I performed in musicals and plays (h*ckinyes, theater kids). In my very first musical, I idolized one of the older performers.Her name was Chelsea, she was a senior in high school, and one day backstageduring a dress rehearsal I asked her how she combatted stage fright. I hadterrible stage fright. Where did she get her confidence?

She looked at me a minute. Then she nodded at the stagemanager.

“See that bucket?” she said.

A red bucket sat by the wall, at his feet. When the stagemanager saw Chelsea looking, he pointed at the bucket and raised a brow. Sheshook her head. He turned away.

“That’s my bucket,”Chelsea told me. “I throw up every night before a performance, because I get sonervous. But I love theater. I have to push through if I want to do what I love. So every night I just throwit all up and get out there, because Ihave to.”

Then her cue came and she waltzed onstage to play the batty,brazen, beautiful Lina Lamont in Singin’In the Rain. She stole the show. And every night before curtain, she barfedinto that red bucket. The audience was none the wiser.

I’ve carried Chelsea’s red bucket in my head for years. LikeI said: I have terrible, terrible stage fright, and my anxiety is the stuff oflegend. When fright and fear threaten to choke me, I think of Chelsea. She madeit look easy, but inside, she was as anxious as I was.

Chelsea and her red bucket made me realize even the mostconfident-seeming people have their insecurities, and that sometimes, you justneed to get out there, because you haveto.

Every time I post a LuckyChild chapter, I have to do a breathing exercise. I get incredibly nervousto post—doesn’t matter how many people review, or how many people follow thestory. I will always get a pit in mystomach when I see a review alert, or when I have to unveil a new chapter. Rejectiondoesn’t feel good, and I admit I have a deep-seated fear of it.

But…I have the red bucket in my head. And like Chelsea said,I get out there, because I have to.

Lucky Child cameto me in a weird moment, at a weird time. I started writing it shortly after mygrandmother’s cancer diagnosis. I fell into the story as a distraction, and asa means of working through loss, anger, sadness, fear, you name it. It becamethis deeply personal thing, and I have to tell you…I was afraid to post it at first. I was afraid people would take thisstory of mine, in which I shared vulnerabilities and pain, and reject me. Makefun of me. Say the idea was bad and I should feel badly for writing it.

But there I was. Writing it anyway despite the fear—because therewas a story in me I just had to get out. It was a story that could help me, anda story I felt I just needed towrite. And I found I was loving writing every last word of it.

I posted it after giving myself an enormous pep-talk, inwhich I vowed to flip the naysayers the bird and give a big “fuck you” toanyone who came at me.

It wasn’t confidence that let me post LC. Rather, it was pigheaded gall and a contrarian streak a milewide that let me post LC…not tomention the memory of a red bucket I dumped all my worries into.

I knew that if I didn’t just throw the worries aside, justhaul off and write, that I’d neverget to write this thing I was starting to love.

Looking back, it seems silly to fear rejection the way I did(and silly to fear that to this day, which I do). People have accepted thestory with such kindness. I know now I had little reason to be afraid, but atthe time, the fear was overwhelming. Now I’m infinitely glad I didn’t listen tothat fear. I’m infinitely glad Chelsea let me borrow her bucket, in a way, so Icould chuck my worries into it and just getout there, because I have to.

You’ve got a story in you. You’ve had that story in yousince 2008. It’s begging to be written—and I absolutely promise you that theanticipation is one hundred times worse than actually going through with it.And I also promise that every author on the goshdarn internet is just asnervous to post their work as you. They’re just all actresses like Chelsea,barfing into buckets backstage—and their audience is none the wiser.

Basically what I’m saying is, you’re not alone in feelingless than confident. I’m with you. Writing is hard. Sharing that writing is harder. But if you want to do what you love, you’ve just gotta get out there and do it, confidence be damned.

I know you can do it, andyou can borrow my big red bucket any time you like.

Now get out there, because you have to. :)

(Also I’d read the shit out of a KuwaxOC fic, btw, so WRITETHAT FIC, WRITE THAT FIC, WRITE THAT FIC—I’m serious, we NEED more stories likethat and I am behind you 100% of the way.)