i write fanfic on my other blog, but this blog is for original works (mind dumps, ideas, isolated scenes, writing help/discussions while i work through writing my own stories) 💜💜💜
i have two current wips, i’ll update once they are more fleshed out and i can talk about them!
em’s masterlist 💜
i do not reply to dms unless we are mutuals and you say something other than “hello” or “hey there”
you may notice i kind of fell off the wagon— three things happened:
1. life came at me hard again, it’s a rollercoaster of emotions these days. i usually don’t write when i feel like that.
2. i started writing fanfiction again. now i never said i’d stop (comforting myself). i have made some great steps towards my original stories, and for that i am so proud of myself 💜
3. THE BOTS OH MY GOD. i’d rather get zero notes, honestly. any post i make that gets notes IT’S ALL BOTS.
recently noticed that most of my female characters have curly hair. I think it’s because when I was younger all the books I read didn’t have any heroines with curly hair, which made 8 year old me kinda sad..so now I compensate with all my girls having some type of curly hair
i write girls with brown eyes and brown hair a lot because growing up there was a lot of colored eyes and bright hair and i hardly saw myself represented 🥹
Ryan Bailey, a man that has never been able to feel emotions, feels emotions for the very first time and gets swept away by them.
Ryan Bailey can’t remember the last time he felt… anything. For as long as he can remember he has lived his life through others, emotionally speaking. Although it wasn’t too bothersome not feeling emotions (as a businessman it was actually useful), at times Ryan found himself wondering how his life would be different. He wouldn’t have to practice normal facial expressions in the mirror or study people so closely. Sure, with time it had become a lot easier to ‘express’ himself normally, but it still required him to constantly observe those around him.
That is until recently.
Ryan looks down at his hands and makes them into loose fists before opening them again. A few days ago, while shaking hands with a possible investor, he experienced emotion for the first time. It was strange at first. He wondered if maybe he was suddenly able to feel, but soon after other man- somewhat awkwardly- removed his hand from his, he was back to emptiness. Ryan shook his head and flashed the man a practiced smile and then walked him out of the office. Once the door was closed and he was back in his chair, Ryan looked down at his hands. Then, without any further thought, he called his secretary into his office with the excuse that she bring him some coffee. A few minutes later she walked in with a red mug in her hands and placed it on his desk. Before he realized what he was doing, he had reached out and touched the young girl’s hand. Her face had turned a light pink as she looked up at him, but he’d hardly noticed her. His mind had suddenly been flooded with a strange, soft feeling. I small smile crept up onto his lips, and he’d quickly pulled his hand back from the girl and dismissed her. Her smile had slowly vanished as she turned to leave.
Once again, he looked at his hands. Ever since the moment he discovered this strange power, he had become obsessed, no, addicted. He found almost any excuse to lightly touch others’ hands. While getting his coffee in the morning, while at the store, at the office— anywhere. It became sort of a game. He would watch the person, try to guess at their emotion, and then confirm it. It was amazing that he was correct so many times.
Now he sat at a small coffee shop, looking at a young barista with long brown hair and soft eyes. He watched her as she prepared his drink and then as she walked over to him. She’s feeling tired, probably hoping to go home to her family, he thought to himself as she placed the cup on the table. He smoothly reached for the cup just before her hand left the mug and touched the tips of her fingers in a now practiced move. She turned to leave not noticing what happened and he was washed over by a soft feeling… something like happiness, but… sad along the edges. He stared at his cup, as the feeling slowly faded. He blinked a couple times and then looked up at the girl, who was now cleaning a table. She did not look particularly happy, or sad. He frowned. Maybe… his mind worked and worked, trying to solve the puzzle—not having ever truly felt emotions himself, it was hard sometimes to understand when they were mixed.
He shook his head and looked down at his hands. Maybe this strange ability was starting to fade, only meant to work for a few days? Ryan did not want to go back, not now that he knew how this felt. He liked feeling, even if it was only for a few seconds. It was a hunger he never knew he had and now was unwilling to let go of. He got up from his seat, picked up his cup, and walked over to the counter where the girl was now standing by the register. She smiled politely as he approached and he flashed yet another practiced smile.
“Excuse me, my coffee was a bit cold,” he said softly as he placed the cup on the counter.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she picked up the cup, “I’ll make you another one,” then she turned around.
Ryan watched as she once again prepared his drink, trying to think harder this time. She smiled at me, he thought, so maybe she is not tired, but happy. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize she was back.
“Okay, here it is.” She smiled again. Ryan could never understand how people gave away smiles so easily and so often. He had to practice, observe, and guess at the right moment, while others seemed to do it without so much as a thought.
He reached out for the mug just as she reached out to place a napkin next to it. Their hands touched and Ryan felt something… hot. Frustrated, he thought to himself, she must be frustrated with me because I let my drink get cold. But when he looked up, she was smiling, light pink dusting her cheeks, her eyes reduced to small lines.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” she said, her smile faltering slightly as she pulled her hand back.
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” he answered, still lost in his thoughts.
This girl was strange. Her emotions did not align with her expressions. Or perhaps he was the one that was strange. Well of course he was strange but… he shook his head. This is pointless, he thought. He drank his coffee and then left the shop, waving at the girl on his way out.
He looked down at his hands; he had been doing this a lot lately.
Ryan found himself at the cafe almost every day after that. Every time he challenged himself, and every time he failed. For some reason he could never figure the girl out. She always seemed to be friendly on the outside but frustrated and sad on the inside. Then it hit him one day, as his fingers touched the tips of hers. She smiled warmly at him, a regular customer, and yet the feeling that washed over him was frustration- as usual- but this time it had softer edges, and he found himself with an almost unnoticeable smile on his lips. He blinked and looked at the girl’s back as she turned before looking down at his hands again.
He could not believe it. He would have laughed- this seemed like something to laugh about- but it would have been too strange in the quiet of the shop. But suddenly, a frown crept up on his face. Why was this different from the dozens of hands he had touched before? He turned to the girl again. Was it just her? He thought, for a second, maybe he would get up and ask her something, maybe even slide his hand towards hers, just a tiny bit.
He wanted to challenge himself once more.
Instead, he finished his coffee, said goodbye to the girl, and walked out into the cold.
a note from em: hello, love! this is where you will find links to all of my posts on writing and my stories 💜 they are separated by category and then by story 💜 if there is no link, this means that i have started the wip but have not actually posted anything about it. any questions or comments my inbox is always open 💜
💜 chaptered stories:
—
💜 short stories:
our place
pt .5: prologue
pt 1: a quiet morning
💜 writing tips:
quirks/traits to give your characters to make them feel more realistic
you can also look through my recycle bin 💜 (currently empty)
In a tiny town called Mossfield, where everyone knows everyone, there is a family-owned coffee shop called Our Place that many of the locals believe to be magical. The only magical thing about it, though, is the amazing and unique coffee blend served there simply called The House Blend.
It is at this non-magical coffee shop that: an elderly couple have their 2,704th coffee date as they reminisce about a lifetime of love and hardship, a middle-aged woman gives love another chance, a young man takes his baby daughter out for her first hot cocoa of the winter season, a group of teenage friends solidify friendships that will last a lifetime, a young girl makes a tough decision, the head baker next door visits the cute barista but is too shy to tell her he makes the blueberry banana muffins extra early just for her, and many other sweet moments in the lives of those who walk through the door.
so come one in, have a cup of coffee, and enjoy your time at Our Place.
In a small town called Mossfield, on a very early morning, a young woman makes her way from the local bakery to Our Place— a family-owned coffee shop that many of the locals believe to be magical. The only magical thing about it, however, is their coffee blend—the recipe, perfected over decades of trial and error, can perk up even the most bitter of patrons. Fancy little jars of sugar and spices line the counter, but rumor has it not a single one has ever been used on said coffee, one single sip being enough to convince any customer that the coffee needs nothing else.
Alyse steps into the empty shop, taking a long, deep breath before turning to lock the door behind her. One of her favorite things in the world is the hour of quiet and peace she gets every morning when she comes in to get ready for the day. Having practically grown up at her family’s coffee shop, every step, from grinding the coffee beans to preparing The House Blend, is so ingrained in her being that the steps are done almost entirely from muscle memory. The shop is almost entirely silent, save for the sounds of the coffee grinder and the birds outside that are starting to wake, singing their morning tunes.
Once finished, Alyse looks over at the clock—4:45 am, right on time. She pours herself the very first cup of the day—as she does every morning—and takes out her blueberry banana muffin, pulling back the wrapper to take a big, mouth-watering bite. She closes her eyes and chews slowly, savoring the explosion of flavors. Another one of her favorite things in the world is the fifteen minutes before Our Place opens, in which she gets to enjoy her muffin and her coffee, before jumping into the morning rush. If she knows anything, it is that Mossfield runs on Our Place.
She gathers up the crumbs left from her muffin and tosses them into a nearby trashcan on her way to open the door, the headlights from her first customer’s car already shining through the large windows at the front of the small building. She takes one more deep breath, already looking forward to the end of the day, and clicks the lock before flipping the sign to ‘open’.
every year i do a writing challenge in february where i encourage myself to write something daily (and post it) since it is the shortest month of the year. this year i wanted to write my short story series (i use the term 'short story' loosely here since i just mean a short story not like the actual definition with specific number of words, btw) but i was not keeping track of the days and now it is february first and i have nothing. so instead of pressuring myself, this year my goal is just to write daily, even if i don't finish a story every single day.
i have the big points of my outline set!!! this story has been a folder titled “mind dump” for YEARS. it has been a collection of ideas and isolated scenes for so long but now it is taking shape!!!
now i’m doing the medium points (chapters) and once i finish those i am ready to start writing ❤️🩹❤️🩹🙂↕️
and i have my short stories series in the works too 💜
I see a lot of writers deleting scenes they don't like, and it hurts my soul!
One of the best habits I’ve picked up is keeping a dedicated folder for everything that didn't make the cut. Bad scenes, boring chapters, even entire abandoned novels, I don't delete any of it.
When I'm stuck on a current project or feeling uninspired, I raid that folder.
i actually remember some parts of stuff that i KNOW i wrote but can’t find anywhere and now i’m pretty sure i deleted them. i am literally going crazy trying to find them or at least remember more than just the idea of it
I have been writing fanfiction for over 10 years (i discovered it in high school, and started in the kpop fandoms). and through the years i have had many story ideas-- most of which never saw the light of day. as i look through my drive, i have decided to take some of those ideas and turn them into original stories.
my goal for this year is to write more original stories than fanfiction, regardless of interaction. this goal both scares me and fills me with excitement i have not felt in years.
i will note i am basically coming full circle with this thought. when i first started writing fanfiction, i wrote stories for one friend exclusively. i had a notebook in which i would write stories for her in class. i wrote fanfiction about her and her kpop bias (before i really knew fanfiction was a thing) and then when my parents finally got me a smart phone i would text them to her.
what i'm trying to say is: i started with an audience of one, and as i dip into an audience of none (for now) i am trying to tell myself that it is okay to write just because you love doing it.
this is a whole lot of nothing hahaha i was just sitting here thinking instead of actually writing.
quirks/traits to give your characters to make them feel more realistic
♡ neat/clean person-- they are constantly washing their hands and cleaning the area around them. hate getting anything on their hands, clothes, shoes, car, etc etc.
♡ hobby addict-- they are constantly looking at and for little things that relate to their hobbies, sometimes even getting sidetracked. for ex: touching fabrics while talking to you, "one second" before speed walking to look at some yarn/books/shoes/etc etc.
♡ takes forever to finish drinks-- literally always carrying around a watered-down drink they are still working on. adds ice after a while instead of just putting that poor drink out of its misery
♡ alternatively-- drink fiend. doesn't use a straw because they'll sip too fast. CEO of "are you gonna finish that?" and "I'll drink it if you don't like it".
♡ collects something a bit uncommon-- the bottlecaps from every soda/water they drink, little things that are the exact shade of their favorite color, lost earrings (they disinfect them, don't worry), perfect leaves, miniatures of random things (that they then place on the life-sized versions), 'ugly' things (they feel bad that nobody else likes them), etc etc
♡ runs their hands over different textures. if they touch one that they hate, they will quickly touch one they like 'to balance it out'
♡ dislikes certain numbers (ex: odd numbers. or even specific numbers, like 4 or 9) and so they go out of their way to avoid those
♡ can't stop buying something specific even though they already have a lot of them (ex: pens, lip glosses, mugs, etc etc) because they just love them so much
♡ only drinks coffee/tea if it is piping hot. will rather chug it than warm it up because 'it ruins the taste'
♡ alternatively-- does not care if a hot drink goes completely cold, they will still drink it. 'Iced coffee is a thing too, you know"
♡ talks during movies/shows because they like to analyze everything and point out stuff they notice in the background. probably pauses to be polite (if they can)
♡ changes their style with the seasons. example: once summer starts, they exclusively wear dresses.