if corporate has rolled back storebought pride, homemade is fine.
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@helenish
if corporate has rolled back storebought pride, homemade is fine.
Not news to anyone but consider it replication of known findings: the most productive writing time of your life is three minutes after you were supposed to be out the door and on your way to work.
He’s here with all his friends.
losing the courage of my convictions what am I even doing, this is 1000 words of guys saying "yeah," to each other but, get this, sometimes they DON'T REALLY MEAN "yeah" at all, never mind, I got this, I've herded my convictions mostly back into the henhouse #myyeahs, #myconvictions
Forgot the real Oilers existed and was just living in my head with the pretend Oilers and then I’m perusing the Edmonton Oilers reddit and they’re all upset about scapegoating the coach and writing all this frankly juicy as hell stuff about McDavid and Draisaitl “calling him out” and how he needed to “hold players accountable” (mm-hmmmmm) and how fucked up management is and I’m like damn this is real good stuff is anyone else experiencing this??? Love your work oil country reddit, frankly I’m normally too tender-hearted to deal with it but sometimes you just want something gritty and raw.
I am at the UPS store to drop off a package and the woman who runs it has had surgery, her arm held immobile away from her body with a plastic brace, a thin plastic tube dangling from beneath her shirt.
"I had surgery yesterday," she says. She's bustling around, trying to straighten floor mats with one hand. She can scarcely bend down. "oh I look terrible."
"Yesterday!" I said. "No, you look great, are you kidding? I'd still be on the couch." We don't know each other really but I recognize her in the way you recognize someone who notarizes all your documents. Good grade in social interaction, I tell myself.
"Can you throw my hair up for me before you go?" she says, to the tall young woman who's behind the counter. "Sorry," she says to me.
"Don't worry about it," I say. "It's really tough when you can't--" I gesture vaguely, meaning, "do anything for yourself."
"She can't take a shower for three days," tall young woman whose name, I have learned, is Lena, says.
"Oh no," I say.
"And she takes five showers a day--"
"It's not five," she protests. "This is my son, by the way," she says, gesturing at the college age guy who unlocked the door.
"Hello," we say to each other. He says to her,
"You're gonna be stinky."
"Sometimes it's five, but--" I'm feeling like part of the family. I'm smiling about how funny it will be that this woman can't take her showers.
"It'll feel great when you finally can," I say, and we all agree yes it will. Everyone--even me--is vaguely surprised when I hold up my package and say, tentatively,
"so can I--"
"oh! right," she says. The son scans my QR code.
"Feel better!" I call as I leave.
"You take care now," she says.
Look at this woman--older, ugly in an unremarkable way, raspy voiced, ratty hair--surrounded by love. Lena's gentle hands combing down through her hair, looping it up. Her son's voice, quiet and fond.
Don't let them tell you love is hard, hard to find, hard to keep. Don't let them tell you to stay perfect or else. It's not true.
I'm posting from here
if you approach it with an open mind, almost anything (work meetings; decluttering your basement; emails you’re being a big baby about for no reason) can be a type of predicament bondage and thus fun and sexy.
must feel good as hell to ride on the conveyor belt and then fall into blackness and get crunched in the can return machine
Flowers burst forth, trees green, summer beckons, yet malaise troubles me this day. Oh, no, it's nothing really, the duties of my rule, the dark forces that mass beyond the citadel, these shadows fall over you as well, I know. But trouble yourself not over such matters now—bring forth my court jester to raise our spirits and join us in merriment with his performance of one of my favorite epics of comic poesie--
connor mcdavid always kinda looks like a guy who’s quietly dying of bond sickness because he thinks the guy he’s bonded with rejected him and he doesn’t want to make a fuss. when actually the guy just doesn’t realize they bonded because he’s kind of obtuse
Sounds like a delicious @helenish fic 🥰
slander, because Connor McDavid would not ever jeopardize the integrity of his play and betray his sacred duty to his team by allowing bond sickness to take hold and weaken him, he would just figure out exactly how much skin-to-skin contact he needs to appropriately manage his condition and maintain his level of play and maybe that's not really enough to feel good, ever, but it's not about feeling good, it's about performance, and a few studies suggest that moderate bond hunger can actually increase reaction time so it's not all bad, it's really not all bad, he's fine, it's just a hookup every 3-6 weeks and that's not enough to really bother or inconvenience anyone, right? Not if he pays attention and makes sure to do what Leon, uh, the person likes in bed. That's not enough for anyone to get annoyed or notice how much he needs it. Don't stay for breakfast.
part 3: OT
Silver Linings Playbook (7212 words) by Helenish Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid Summary: ANAHEIM, CA — Back with the team and back in the lineup.
Part 2: Puck Drop
Silver Linings Playbook (4796 words) by Helenish Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid Summary:
Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid Summary: So much for international cooperation.
PS I have fixed the huge continuity error, Leon is NOT wearing a heavy black Team Germany hoodie but instead is looking tuff in (checks notes) a pale buttery yellow. carry on.
I hope this is okay to ask. What do you think happens to Arthur and Eames at the end of Here is a Thing That Isn't Happening? Not like, do you plan on continuing a story you wrote a decade and a half ago, more like the helenish headcannon headlines. Thank you
omg yes!!! I know exactly what happened and I even wrote a bunch of it but then I didn't finish and THIS STORY is actually the reason I am very stern with myself about not publishing WsIP because it's just too easy to walk away. (Although I think this one is perhaps maybe a gray area because they were self-contained episodes???? Asking for a friend who maybe has some more self-contained episodes of hrpf floating around that are refusing to turn into a story.) ANYWAY, straight from a working doc named "Drinks!" I can tell you that THE final beats of the story were:
oh Copy of Working Title Final Final This One we're really in it now.
Thinking about song that is a commentary/counterpoint to a story and/or a song played on repeat while brainstorming Scenarios, selecting the Lyrics, formatting them in html, using tables, feeling aware that this is probably an outdated way to manage this, changing the table percentages again but it still looks wrong or wait that looks good but it’s fucked on your phone, so back to the drawing board, maybe a different font? and honestly the fact is whether a song hits is very specific and it’s vanishingly unlikely to actually work in the same way for the reader and might even hit wrong and so okay the story can stand on its own wait can I mess around with the rich text setting to get it to look how I want OOF no that’s bad, how do I use align tags again you know what this lyric doesn’t quite seem the same written out like this you know what forget it, I’m taking it out, yeah that’s better—
Is this not also writing?