Well?

Well?

It's been an awfully long time since I was so affected by a character's emotions that I struggled to continue working on a piece of fanfiction. I'm pretty good at not letting fictional anything bleed over and actually harm my mental health. Avoidance is always a valid option, just... this is my own damned fanfic!

I was in a really vulnerable place when I wrote what's published of My Bonds in Thee, and I'm in a much, much better place now. So why I could tackle these issues and feels then but struggle to face them now is a bit of a mystery. It's not as if I don't know it's going to have a happy ending, all's well that ends well, kissy happy couple off to kick the arse of the second apocalypse. I've been nopeing out of rewriting the next chapter for months.

Am I getting squeamish about angst in my old age? Have I lost my tolerance for fictional owwies after a lifetime of craving them? Am I going to have to start writing fluff now?

(If any of the characters I've ever dabbled with could appreciate being turned to fanficcy fluff, it's Aziraphale and Crowley. They could be so obnoxiously happy together if everyone would just leave them in peace to get on with it.)

I've become bogged down, blocked, or plain stuck on WIPs before now; I've run out of physical energy to get the writing done; I've walked away from pieces that were generating wanky fandrama or other unwanted attention. I've never (yet) just wimped out of finishing something because it gave me feels. I can't believe I'm even asking myself if that's what's holding me up.

Send help. And possibly a supply of raw fluff.

DOCTOR WHO | 73 YARDS

"Cas, look, if Sam calls, you answer." ↳ 6.03 - THE THIRD MAN

The Marvels (2023), dir. Nia DaCosta