Haven

wwc

2009-07-06T03:30:11Z

Tart: 300 words
The Novel: 350 words
Random C/R: 1,000 words
Other C/R: 2,750

TOTAL: 4,400

Original fiction fail this week. But I may have hit on something with HSMBB. Or not. It's not really plotted and I already know what I've got has to be edited down because they keep repeating themselves, but whatevs. We'll see if I get bored with it.

[Chad is looking through Ryan's DVD collection, including exercise videos]

"Flirty Girl Fitness? Please tell me this is Sharpay's."

"It, uh. It teaches you moves from dance videos! While you work out," Ryan said. "And there's the bonus chair dance video."

"Chair dance."

"Yeah." Ryan grinned. "If someone was sitting in the chair, it would be a lap dance. Obviously, a life skill."

"Uh huh, and are you going to install the stripper pole?"

"It's a fitness pole."

"Dude." Chad laughed. "So then -- " He stopped, seeing what other DVDs were on the shelf. "Um, Jocks and Cocks?"

"What?" Ryan's eyebrows shot up his face. "Oh, fuck. Sorry, I -- I'm not used to having people over. I should probably have put those somewhere, huh?"

"Jocks and Cocks, huh," Chad mused, and looked at the other few titles. "Straight Guys Exposed." He laughed and picked that up, as he skimmed more titles. "You actually own something called Monster Cocks?"

"Please, please tell me this is some sort of horrible nightmare…"

now what?

2009-07-01T03:10:21Z

Hmm. Okay. So I've decided to toss out the 10,000 words I'd written on my HSMBB, because I hated it. Love the concept, detested my execution, and it wasn't working out to be small, fix-in-the-edits things. It just wasn't working at all. So moving right along.

Now what do I write? I've got, off the top of my head, four ideas in various states of plotting: the Cinderella fic (super shmultizy, 99% plotted), the future fic (about 80% plotted), the baseball AU (not quite what it sounds like, and about 50 - 60% plotted), or the Evans family reunion fic (also 50 - 60% plotted)? Or something else entirely...?

The issue with all of these, and the now-abandoned one I was working on, is that the reason they are mentally outlined but not written is because I love tossing around wacky ideas and situations and dialogue, but there are very few things I like enough to spend the time with to actually write. If these four were more compelling, then I'd probably have already bothered to write them. (This is also why there are so many abandoned fics on my hard drive, and why I don't post WIPs unless the rough draft is done, so I know I'll have the attention span to finish them.)

So that makes me think that I should go with a new idea entirely. But I don't have a new idea at the moment. Decisions, decisions. Hmmmmmm.

grump.

2009-06-30T01:59:05Z

I don't know. Maybe I'll scrap my entire HSMBB and write something else. I have plenty of other workable ideas, and I detest every single word I've written.

wwc

2009-06-29T03:44:32Z

This week...

- The Novel: 800 words
- Tart: 1000 words (almost half of which were deleted...)
- HSMBB: 800 words (all of which *will* be deleted, sigh)
- Tweenage post: 900 words on SK (not counting anything cowritten with Jess today!)

TOTAL: 3,700

Hm, well, not as much as I'd have liked, but I was pretty freaking busy AND, more importantly, all the stuff I wrote on the novel was actually good, which I have been striving for. It's nice to have at least some writing I won't be deleting. This week, I'd really like to finish the Tart chapter, while I'm concentrating on boybands elsewhere anyway. Beyond that, we'll see.

weekly word count: vacation edition

2009-06-22T03:18:34Z

The Novel: 600 words
Fun New Project: 2,100 words
HSM Big Bang: 2,600 words
Off the Clock: 1,500 words
TOTAL: 6,700

Do I really have to go back to work next week?

(Actually, I could have been way more productive, but at least I feel things vaguely resembling creative juices flowing for the first time in awhile, which is nice.)

for my own benefit

2009-06-21T23:37:12Z

Status list of stuff I'm working on now:

HSM Big Bang: I'm almost 10,000 words in (of the 10,000 minimum, heh) and maybe a third of the way done. I love the story and hate everything I've written; most of it has just been small scenes, many of which need to be actual large arches. So hopefully I'll actually get around to rewriting those bits. They aren't bad; they just aren't enough to convey the emotion a story this sweeping needs. (Yeah, it's sweeping. Isn't that the point?)

Fun New Project: This actually has a title, but I'm keepin' it to myself. This is mired in transition, but still actually going decently when I work on it. The characters are a lot of fun, and hopefully soon I'll get to the bits that are actually about them. I really like the voice of this one, even where the writing hasn't held up.

The Novel: Oy fucking vey. I hate it. I'm going to rewrite the first chapter again. See, this is the hard part: I can write a first draft pretty easily, because I don't have to go back and make it good, actual polished writing I'm satisfied with. Rachel spitballed with me for awhile today, so I'm temporarily optimistic, but just, ught. I'm at a point when I hate the whole project and want to throw it out the window, and if I hadn't spent a year just to get it this far, I might. Deep breathes.

And I've decided to move the sucker back into the third person. It just doesn't feel first person-y to me, and I don't want the POV to just be masking weak characterization. ARRRRRRRG.

Fic: Off the Clock

2009-06-19T18:35:43Z

Title: Off the Clock
Pairing: Chad/Ryan (at least, heavily implied...)
Rating: G-ish
Warnings: None
Note: I revised this one in July, to clean up some screwy tense issues. IDEK what happened originally.
Summary: Fulton's job isn't easy, and it never ends.

Technically speaking, Thomas Fulton's job title was General Manager of Lava Springs. In reality, for the eight years since the Evans family purchased Lava Springs and inherited Fulton as the manager, he had two jobs. He ran the club's day-to-day business, and he kept the Evans twins happy.

Catering to Ryan and Sharpay Evans was, by far, the harder job. Especially this summer. The club was short-staffed when it came to competent employees, and when he had asked The Board -- his well-meaning but slightly scatter-brained employer -- she provided him with a gaggle of untrained, ill-mannered, incompetent teenagers. So for the last six weeks, he not only had to put up with a high-strung diva heiress as she tried to seduce the local golden boy, and not only had to provide her with myriad expensive distractions to keep her from wrecking havoc after her scheme collapsed (said distractions ranging from the best imported chocolate he could find to the most shameless, attractive masseur he could hire from the greater Albuquerque area), but he had to do it while trying to make sure the children he was stuck with occasionally remembered to actually serve the people in the dining hall. He spent so much time chasing around the local riff-raff, trying to keep the kids from stomping on flowers in the garden, writing memos about the importance of tucking in one's uniform shirt, and trying to convince the junior staff that they were not entitled to member privileges, that he's barely been able to get orders filled and see to his normal daily routine.

But was somewhat conflicted.

Most summers, Ryan Evans was little more than his sister's blonder, paler shadow. Fulton always felt a mild affinity for the boy, probably because he himself had spent all of adolescence labeled a mama's boy, and certainly his classmates made some assumptions about him. And of the twins, Ryan was always the lesser annoyance -- oh, he had his quirks and has thrown his share of tantrums, but he wasn't that bad at the end of the day. No worse than most of the club members' children.

So on the one hand, Fulton was quietly rather proud of Ryan's coup at the Midsummer Night talent show. On the other hand, Ryan's defection made Sharpay more irate than usual, which was saying something. Further, since then, Ryan had taken to... Well, covering for the junior staff.

Fulton had spent the whole summer making vague threats at the Wildcats, reminding them about the three strikes rule, writing reprimands for being late, and trying again and again to drill rules of decorum into their adolescent brains. But in the last two weeks, no matter what illicit activity he caught the staff at, Ryan showed up too, and he'd simply smile and suggest they be let off the hook. The basketball team ate half of the club's pastry spread, and Ryan swore his mother had sanctioned it. When the nervous one who washed dishes had to work on waitstaff for an afternoon and he not only got every single order wrong but he also spilled an enormous carafe of lemonade all over Mrs. Talbot, Ryan laughed the matter off, promised Mrs. Talbot that he'd take the matter straight to The Board himself, and then pouted until his mother smoothed things over. And while Fulton had more or less given up on the concept of ever, ever convincing anyone under the age of 18 to clock in on time, he caught the curly-haired one -- Danforth, that was his name -- clocking in nearly an hour late after his lunch break. Twice. That he would not have overlooked, but Ryan had apologized profusely, claimed he'd needed Chad's help with something or other, and so of course nothing had come of it.

If Fulton had had enough hair to tear out, he would have. The junior staff was enough to frustrate even the most patient manager, and since Ryan had begun making sure no one ever faced any consequences, they'd been worse than usual. So Fulton was not feeling particularly charitable when he saw Chad Danforth at the end of his shift, slinking not towards the dilapidated car he bragged so hard about purchasing, but rather towards the pool. But he hardly had time to deal with it -- Sharpay was having some sort of crisis, and he had payroll to deal with, and a million small matters. He put it out of his mind and settled in to his office for a depressingly long night of catching up on paperwork.

It was almost 10:30 when Fulton finally completed everything that needed to get done; far later than he'd have liked, but it seemed like his job was never done. In an attempt to get out as quickly as possible, once he finished, he took a shortcut past the pool on his way to his car.

And he heard that distinct laugh, a splash, a much higher-pitched laugh, and then noises he could only call general shenanigans. Part of him wanted to just leave; Danforth probably wasn't actively destroying club property, or bothering any of the members at that time of night. But on the other hand, there were rules. And he didn't want Danforth to think he really could get away with anything he wanted. And he certainly didn't want to allow adolescent canoodling in the club's pool.

So he quietly walked into he pool area and gazed into the dimness. And yes -- there. Danforth lounged near the lagoon end by the waterfall, staring at something behind it. Someone, more likely. Fulton sighed. If it was Taylor McKessie, he'd be genuinely disappointed. That girl had more sense than this, and if she really had fallen for Danforth's smiling jock routine, more the pity. She deserved someone more responsible, if nothing else.

"Excuse me!" Fulton thundered, heading over towards the water. "It is after pool hours and you, Chad Danforth, are not a club member!"

Danforth turned in the water, froze, and stared up at him. He looked panicked, genuinely panicked, probably realizing that he had no one to get him out of this. Fulton smiled grimly.

"Um, Mr. Fulton," Danforth said finally. "I didn't know you worked so late."

"I do. And you do not, so what do you think you are doing?"

"Um. Just. Hanging out?"

"Mmmhmm." Fulton paused to stare at the waterfall and could just make out movement behind it. "And who are you 'just hanging out' with? I know there's someone back there."

"No! No one!" Danforth yelped, not very convincingly.

He was doubtlessly trying to cover for his girlfriend -- a sweet, if pointless, gesture. "She'll have to come out eventually, you know. You are both in big trouble, but rest assured, this will be Ms. McKessie's first infraction. You, however -- "

"It isn't Taylor, she wouldn't," Chad said quickly. "I mean, she's so smart and responsible," and boring, he didn't say, but Fulton heard it regardless.

"Then who -- "

"No one!" Danforth insisted, even though he'd as much as admitted it already. "No one. It's just me. I -- "

"It's okay."

They both looked over at the waterfall, to see Ryan slowly making his way towards them. His hair was plastered to his face and he moved slowly, walking through the deep end, arms held firmly -- awkwardly -- below the water. He looked almost ghost-like in the moonlight, a pale blur above the water.

"Mr. Evans," Fulton said, suddenly exhausted. Of course. Everywhere Danforth went for the last two weeks, Ryan Evans had been right behind him, laughing and egging him on.

"I, uh," Ryan said awkwardly. "That is, I invited Chad to spend the night. We just... Went for a swim. And I know you hate when people swim without a lifeguard, but it's such a nice night! But we'll get right out, and go right to my condo, and won't bother anyone at all, I promise."

Fulton sighed hugely. What could he do? Technically speaking, it was Ryan's pool. And Mrs. Evans wouldn't care about the flagrant rule-breaking; she'd back anything Ryan said, so there was nothing Fulton could do anyway.

"Of course, Mr. Evans," he finally managed. He looked back at Danforth, at the edge of the pool. "You. This is not an excuse to be late clocking in tomorrow!"

"Yes, sir," Danforth said quickly. "I mean, no sir. I mean -- "

"Yes, I know what you mean," Fulton interrupted. "Very well. I will see you then -- and I will be watching you very closely. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Danforth said again.

"Good." And with that, Fulton strode away.

He was almost, but not quite, out of earshot when they began talking again. But when he heard Ryan pout, "It isn't funny! Where did my Speedo end up? Chad!" (followed, of course, by gales of laughter) he hurried on, deciding it was really, truly, none of his business what Ryan and Chad got up to after hours. He was finally, after all, off the clock.

wwc

2009-06-15T03:25:49Z

This week:

- Slight work on Fun New Project: 500 words
- Very slight work on Tart: 300 words
- HSM AU: 1,600 words

TOTAL: 2,400 words

I've been really unproductive lately, clearly. It's for a variety of reasons, but I'd really like to snap out of it. I'm on vacation this week, so hopefully that'll help.

wwc

2009-06-08T03:33:25Z

That thing where I was going to write more this week, uh, didn't happen. I was super busy with reading (first two books I had to finish before bookathon, then, on the weekend when I usually do the bulk of my writing, well... Bookathon).

What I did manage was about 1,000 words of fic -- right, because with HSMbigbang happening, what I need is another semi-epic AU. Whatever, it'll be awesome, once I figure out what actually happens. It's a good bunny; it'll grow big and strong.

And at AV, the various bookathon reviews totaled about 1,700 words.

So that's 2,700 total. SIGH. Better next week...maybe?

Fic: Disco Ducky

2009-06-02T03:22:33Z

Title: Disco Ducky
Rating: G-ish
Dedicaton: This was hastily written just for ienablu. Happy birthday, you!
Notes: Technically, this fic is before any actual relationship between Chad and Ryan...
Summary: Chad and Ryan joke around backstage during a rehearsal, and Ryan revels in the power of being a choreographer.

Ryan was totally oblivious to the fact that Chad was standing next to him, until Chad murmured, "Don't tell anyone this, ever, but your sister is completely right."

That was enough to get Ryan's attention. He'd been listening to Troy and Gabriella rehearsing Just Wanna Be With You around the piano, trying to envision it so he could really begin choreographing, so he'd been pretty focused. The fact that he hadn't turned to greet Chad was proof enough of that -- not that he'd admit it, but he still got a bit of a thrill every time Chad talked to him, and he pretty much always knew when Chad was in a room, let alone near him.

Let alone standing pressed against his side, whispering in his ear.

But Chad admitting Sharpay was right about something? That was even more rare than Chad dancing. Definitely worth Ryan's undivided attention.

Or maybe it was the fact that Chad's ridiculous t-shirt was a size too small that was worth Ryan's attention. One of those things, anyway.

"What?" Ryan gasped. "Are you feeling okay? Should I call the nurse?" He took advantage of his barely-exaggerated surprise to press a hand against Chad's forehead, as if feeling for temperature. Really, he just liked touching Chad. Not that Chad's forehead was particularly sexy or anything.

Not that his forehead any less sexy than other random pieces of Chad's body. Except the pieces that were particularly sexy, like his upper arms and shoulders (god bless Chad's sleeveless basketball jersey) or his abs (and god bless Chad's tendency to go shirtless in gym class) or his -- well, Ryan had only fantasized about the rest, but he was pretty sure it was sexy.

Chad laughed and stepped back, swatting Ryan's hand away. "I feel fine, thanks for worrying. But everyone in the entire building -- probably everyone in Albuquerque -- heard her bitching that Kelsi only writes boring love songs, and this song is a little..." He faked a yawn and a snore, and Ryan laughed. "I'm just sayin', none of you are getting into Juilliard if the judges fall asleep."

"Then I guess I'll just have to spice up the choreography..." Ryan said, and, because he was camp enough to pull it off, he shimmied, gyrated his hips, and winked at Chad. And got one of Chad's larger-than-life grins in return.

"Doesn't quite fit the music, though," Chad noted.

"Ah, well." Ryan shrugged. "Anyway, this is nothing -- you should've heard the song before it went up-tempo. I don't know why Sharpay bothered to fight that one out, since it's not even her song, but..."

"She probably was pissed that it wasn't her song," Chad said. "I mean, until a year ago you two were the only ones in any shows, so... Hey, it would have been your song, too."

"Yeah, the love song to my sister. A staple of the East High Drama Club, back in the BG era."

"BG?"

"Before Gabriella." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Ahhh. Also BC, then." Chad grinned again. "You know: Before Chad. 'Cause let's face it, I make this show about a hundred times more awesome."

"This from the guy who insisted all summer that he wouldn't dance," Ryan mused.

"Hey," Chad said. "I don't like dancing, but if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna make it look good."

"Oh, because you make everything look good, right?" Ryan teased, trying to keep it heavy enough on sarcasm that Chad wouldn't realize Ryan was pretty sure it was completely true. Chad somehow managed to make completely mundane things -- like sitting in class, and walking down the hall, and talking with his mouth full -- look good. Well. Maybe not the last one. Ryan was in lust, but he wasn't in love.

But Chad said, "You know I do, Evans." And he did a laughably bad imitation of Ryan's shimmy, and yes, it somehow looked good. Not that Ryan would admit that aloud.

"Oh, lord, what am I going to do with you? How am I supposed to choreograph around that?" he said instead.

"What, my awesome moves? You want to put together a whole dance of 'em?"

"No, your massive ego. It'll barely fit on stage, I'm not sure where the rest of the team will stand..."

"Oh, hardy har," Chad said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I know you're way too worried about your own number to care about the team's. I also heard Sharpay shriek something about an entire chorus line, in pink wigs...?"

"Yes, well, I need to impress the Juilliard people somehow," Ryan said.

"I just assumed you secretly want to be a Rockette."

Damn it, if Chad didn't stop smirking like that, Ryan was going to have to do something about it. But he answered, "Be nice to me, or I'll make you disco. Don't think I won't."

"Please tell me you don't know how to disco," Chad answered.

Ryan struck a pose, and Chad laughed so hard that after a few seconds, the music around the piano went silent. "Everything okay back there?" Troy called.

Chad staggered out of the wing, towards the edge of the stage. "Ryan is threatening me with disco!"

"He deserved it," Ryan answered, trailing after him. "Sorry to interrupt, Kels."

Kelsi looked back and forth between him and Chad for a second, smiled knowingly, and said, "No problem."

"You can disco?" Troy asked incredulously.

"It's like the gay man's mating dance," Ryan said. "Of course I can disco."

Chad laughed again, a noise which, if he weren't so very masculine, would probably have been properly called a giggle. "Silly me, Disco Ducky," Chad said.

Ryan turned on him and pointed in mock anger. "That's it, Danforth. You brought this on yourself. And when everyone else complains, I'll be sure to let them know who to thank. Kelsi! I'll need the finished version of A Night to Remember as soon as humanly possible."

"Sure thing, Sharpay," she chirped.

Ryan deflated a little. "Sorry, wow, yeah," he acknowledged. "But I still need it as soon as humanly possible."

"I'll finish it up tonight," she said. "But only because I love you."

"As does everyone," Ryan said.

"Who had the giant ego?" Chad asked innocently.

"You adore me," Ryan said, smirking at him.

"I wouldn't go that far," Chad said, and started to walk away. "Well, I'm going to the gym, Bolton, since I still have priorities." He hopped off the stage.

"Yeah, yeah," Troy said, rolling his eyes.

"And Evans?" Chad looked over his shoulder. "If you make me disco, you know I'll just make it look good." And he smirked, and swaggered off.

Yeah, Ryan was going to have to do something about that smirk. Ideally kiss it off, but he'd settle for tormenting Chad via choreography.

Though he was willing to bet Chad would make disco look damn good.

wwc

2009-06-01T04:02:33Z

You know what's weird? I thought I wrote a lot more this week than I actually did. Huh.

- Big Bang: 2,300 words
- The Novel: 600 words
- AV review: 600 words (not yet posted)
- Ridiculous Crossover: 800 words
Total: 4,300 words

The ridiculous crossover, by the way, is HSM and -- for the few people who know what this -- Suzanne Brockmann's Troubleshooters series.

And if you don't know what that means, go pick up a copy of Hot Target immediately. You'll be glad you did; don't let the hot pink cover deter you. (It features an out and proud FBI agent! And a closeted, alcoholic movie star! A totally kick ass chick! A hot Navy SEAL! And a gay WWII veteran! You know you want to read this.)

Hopefully, more words next week, I guess.

this is predictable

2009-05-28T03:21:48Z

My HSM Big Bang is currently 5,547 words long.

Do I even need to say it is not even close to half finished?

My super rough guestimate is that it'll end up in the 15-20k range. We'll see. Heh.

unproductive wwc

2009-05-25T04:38:08Z

I wasn't very productive this week; all I managed all week was about 2,300 words for my hsmbigbang fic. I have no idea what happened, but I shall strive to be more productive next week.

My big bang fic, though, for the record? Will give people spontaneous tooth decay. You've been forewarned.

abandoned fics

2009-05-22T03:02:09Z

I was digging through my random fic folder looking for something or other (I don't even remember what) and found some random fics I've given up on, some of which I'd forgotten had ever existed. Mostly they were terrible, or just didn't work for some reason, but I found a few enjoyable scenes. Here, have random snippets of Chad and Ryan with little to no context!

From something labeled "Evil Evans.doc" which I think was an alternate beginning to Ryan's Three Rules before I was totally clear on where that fic was going:
"Chad?"
Chad stood and turned, recognizing the voice and trying not to get flustered. Ryan stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe.
"What's up?" Chad asked. Okay. He didn't sound flustered, that was good. Not that Ryan had that effect on him, except… Well, he did, actually.
"I…live here," Ryan said slowly. "I was just going out to the cottage, you know, where I…live." He gave Chad a confused look. "Why are you still here?"
"Oh. Um." Chad shrugged. "Troy -- I forgot I needed another ride, and I'm a little bit stranded. Only for a couple hours." He shrugged.
"So you were just going to… What, stare into space?"
"I guess. I mean, I figured Fulton would yell at me for practicing." He twirled his basketball. "Like, it would disturb someone this time of night or something."
"You know Fulton doesn't actually work 24 hours a day, right?" Ryan grinned.
Chad recoiled inwardly. He always sounded stupid around Ryan. But he managed to say, "Does that mean I can? Because I'm a little bored."
"Sure. By all means." Ryan gestured at the path that led behind the main lodge to the courtyard between buildings, where the hoop was set up. "But if you want to go, I can give you a ride."
"What, all the way into town?" Chad asked. That would mean, like, half an hour alone with Ryan.
Ryan shrugged. "I'm not doing anything."
"You were going… Well, it's kind of early for bed," Chad said, thinking aloud. "So just to… Sit around?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Shar's having a girl's night out, so."
"Without you?"
Ryan gave him a dirty look. "I am very definitely not a girl."
Crap. He'd said something stupid again. "Yeah, but you're…"
"Oh, please finish that sentence," Ryan said.
Chad flushed a little. "I just meant, you know, it's always Sharpay, you, and those three…Sharpettes. That's all. Not that you're… Like, gay, or whatever." Nice cover, he thought, wanting to sink into the ground and disappear. It had been both a stupid thing to say and untrue. Of course Chad thought Ryan was gay. If Chad didn't think that, talking to Ryan would be, oh, 99% easier, at least.
"I am, like, gay, or whatever," Ryan said, then, "No, not whatever; I'm gay. Still not a girl, though."
"Oh!" Chad gaped, then began to speak in a rush, feeling even stupider, somehow. "I didn't mean -- I'm just going to keep digging myself deeper, aren't I?"
"Sounds that way." Ryan chuckled. "But please. Go on."
"I just, um. I didn't mean it like gay was a bad thing, I just didn't want you to think that I was making assumptions about you." Ryan didn't say anything, so he kept going, even though ever instinct he had said he should stop talking before he said something complete, utterly unforgivable. "Because… people gossip and all, but most of it is all made up, totally stupid stuff."
"Ah." Ryan lifted himself from the doorframe. "That was a decent answer."
"Oh, thank god." Chad let out a breath. "I really -- I didn't want to offend you."
"I'm not offended." Ryan gave him a slight, smile. "And my offer still stands. If you want a ride home. Or…" He paused, considering. "If you want, you can crash for the night."
"What?" Chad asked, going rigid with shock and dropping his basketball. He was pretty sure he'd just insulted Ryan, and anyway, while they kind of got along now, they'd never spent any time hanging out just the two of them. Not that Chad didn't want to -- actually, Chad really, really wanted to, especially now with those suspicions about Ryan confirmed -- but it just had never ended up working that way.
"If you want. I've got about 900 premium channels, and five-star quality food on room service," Ryan said, as Chad retrieved his rolling ball.
"I…" He hesitated.
"If not, that's cool," Ryan said quickly. "I didn't -- I swear, I don't usually invite cute boys to spend the night five seconds after I come out. That's not what I was -- I mean, I don't usually have to come out, but… Shit. Did I just call you cute out loud?"
"You totally did." Chad laughed.
"Okay. And now I'm just going to go kill myself, so, uh… Have a nice night."
"Ryan," Chad said, as Ryan actually started to turn towards the path. "You're not -- I'm not offended."
"Well, why would you be? I called you cute, that's a compliment. This is the point where most guys freak out, and where a fair amount of jocks would -- " He stopped quickly and shrugged.
"Well, I'm not freaked out," Chad said quickly, then smirked. "You think I'm cute. That's…"
"Mortifying, I know." But Ryan was smiling.

This one is technically finished, but I really hated it; I was going to rewrite it at some point, but lost interest. Basically, for various reasons, the boys are denying one another sex and waiting to see who breaks down first.

“Ry?”
“Yes?” Ryan asked, checking in the hall mirror to figure out if his hat looked better slanted to the left or the right.
“Is there a reason you’re dressed like a very high-class rentboy?”
Ryan looked down at himself. Okay, so maybe his jeans were so tight they’d have made a 80s hair band member wince, though unlike the 80s, he’d gone for dark wash. He offset the dark pants with light pink shirt, which was so thin and light—allegedly because it was warm out—that it was almost see-through. He’d also left the top three buttons undone. Given that the first thing Chad usually did was start unbuttoning, he hoped that would get his mind thinking in that particular direction.
“And…are those my fuck-me boots?”
“Maybe.”
“Ryan.” Sharpay put her hands on her hips. “Boys do not generally wear fuck-me boots.”
“I think I pull them off nicely.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Ryan smirked. He hadn’t been sure until Sharpay confirmed it, but he definitely pulled the boots off.
“I don’t mind you borrowing my clothes,” she continued, “though I didn’t know crossdressing was your thing. I just wish you’d ask.”
“I am not crossdressing.” He finally settled on his hat cocked to the left.
“Fine. I’m not sure I want to know, but should I assume Chad Danforth is getting mindblowing sex tonight? Because I think he’ll assume that when he sees…” She gestured at him. “Well, when he sees everything, because those pants don’t leave anything to the imagination, Ry.”
“On the contrary.” Ryan gestured at himself. “Chad Danforth gets none of this tonight. He gets to stare at it and drool.”
Sharpay grinned. “I love it when you’re mean, Ryan.”

(later)

“Okay, spill,” Sharpay said, letting herself into Ryan’s room without warning.
“Shar!” Ryan sputtered. He’d only just gotten out of a nice, long shower (the after-effect of his fairly uncomfortable post-gym-class day) and was pretty sure Sharpay had reasoned why. “I have to do my hair; it requires zen. Can this wait?” He crossed his legs as though he were about to start meditating, and she rolled her eyes.
“Look, Maharishi, something’s going on. Obviously your yoga hadn’t been helping you out, so spill. Did you and Chad break up?”
“No!” he yelped. “God, no. We just haven’t been having sex.”
“For how long?”
“Why are you so interested? I don’t ever, ever want to know about your sex life,” he pointed out.
“I’m not interested in your sex life; I’m interested in your well being,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And you obviously aren’t happy. And I know you well enough to know it isn’t about being denied sex for a few days.”
“I’m not being denied, I’m denying him, and…” He sighed. “Being denied sucks.”
“We aren’t used to being denied anything,” Sharpay pointed out.
Ryan was surprised she actually had that particular insight. She rarely seemed to have an inkling of exactly how spoiled she was—well, they were. And she was right; of course, Ryan had wanted to have sex with Chad because he liked having sex with Chad (and because he liked Chad, period), but he was also aware that he wanted to have sex with Chad because Chad was telling him no. He hated being told no.
“I’m not worried about that. Chad’ll give in,” he said confidently.
“Mm…no, don’t think so,” Sharpay said, as if musing. “He’s much more used to denial than you are. I mean, he must have known he was gay for ages before you two got together, and he never screwed around with a guy. You, on the other hand…”
Ryan didn’t say anything. He’d lost his virginity at the tender age of fourteen, and had been pretty consistently having sex since. He wasn’t any more used to dry spells than he was to being told no.
“Anyway,” Sharpay said, “look, maybe it’s none of my business, but all I’m saying is, well…Ryan, you’re not happy. It’s not because of the lack of sex, it’s because of the fight that caused the lack of sex.”
“There wasn’t a fight! Not really,” Ryan said, thinking back. Then frowned. He hadn’t meant for it to be a fight, but Chad had seemed awfully irritated to begin with, so…maybe there was more to it. And he didn’t know what. That was a problem.
Sharpay raised an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t like seeing you sad, Ry. You should apologize to him.”
“Are you—you—seriously recommending that I apologize to Chad and…lose?” he sputtered.
“Only if you’re wrong.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“That you know of.” She shrugged. “Look, you know I don’t like Chad that much—it’s not a secret—but he was making you deliriously, irritatingly happy for awhile there. And now you’re not happy. So…either break up with him and we’ll get you through the sad phase and back to your pre-Chad awesomeness, or figure out what’s wrong and fix it, so you can get back to your obnoxious happiness.”
“You find it obnoxious when I’m happy?”
She smiled. “I find it obnoxious when other people make you happy. That’s supposed to be my job.”
“And that’s why you hate Chad?”
“No, I hate Chad because he is a classless jock who isn’t good enough for you.” She patted his arm. “Why a classless jock who isn’t good for you makes you happy is one of the mysteries of the universe.”

(later)
Chad walked into the living room half an hour later. Sharpay didn’t give up her seat next to Ryan, so he awkwardly sat in an armchair. “Sorry I didn’t dress up,” he apologized, smiling. “Ryan didn’t mention this to me until this morning.”
“Dress up?” Sharpay scoffed. “You mean wear something other than a T-shirt?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I mean by it,” Chad agreed.
Ryan sighed. Sharpay’s plan evidently didn’t involve abruptly being nice to Chad or anything.
“Oh, Chad, you know you never have to dress to impress,” Mr. Evans said.
Mrs. Evans smiled at him. “As long as Ryan likes you, so do we.”
“Good to know,” Chad murmured. “I should be safe, then.”
“For the moment,” Sharpay chirped.

This one... IDEK. I remember I had planned something about various rumors going around the school, and it was going to end with smut, but have zero idea how it was supposed to get from point A to point B. But I enjoy

Ryan Evans had never really registered on Chad's radar before that summer. Chad had always known who Ryan was, but mostly regarded him as a sparkly blur that followed where Sharpay went. But after the summer, the baseball game, the Star Dazzle award, everything, Ryan was actually there. And Chad was stunned that he didn't just vanish back into obscurity when school started again.
But then, maybe Ryan had never really been obscure. Not to some people. Which was why, three Fridays into the school year, Chad frowned at him as he unloaded books from his messenger bag and into his locker. "Do you have any idea what people say about you?"
"Yes." Ryan shrugged, unconcerned.
"People think you're high in class."
"Do I look high to you?" Ryan asked. "Eyedrops only do so much, you know, and they don't cover the smell at all." He reached for a water bottle and thrust it into Chad's hand. "And that's actual water, not vodka or gin or whatever. Sniff if you must."
Chad did so, then handed it back. "I know you partied over the summer," he said.
"Yes. And I still do on the weekends. We're in school, Chad. I'm not drunk. Or stoned. Or anything else."
Chad considered. "I didn't think you were. Just -- "
"People think a lot of things about me. Some of them are true." He gave Chad a mischievous look. "But I bet you won't be able to guess which ones."
"Well, you're not fucking your sister."
"Good call."
"And I doubt you give head to half the football team."
"Indeed." Ryan smirked.
"So your dad's a mafia don?"
"You got it." Ryan laughed. "Didn't you get that impression while you were caddying? I find pastel green really makes his 'don't fuck with me' statement clear to other families."
Chad laughed. He couldn't picture Vance Evans successfully menacing a kitten, let alone anything else. "I'm going to figure it out."
"I bet you're not," Ryan said. "But good luck." He shut his locker. "I'd say ask your teammates, but none of them would tell you, anyway."
"Wait, what?"
But Ryan sauntered off.

And I know I've mentioned this one before, because it was the first Chad/Ryan fic I wrote, but I didn't post it because it was seriously lacking in the "having a plot" category. The following (R-rated!) takes place the night after Chad accidentally walks in on Ryan getting head from a Lava Springs masseur.

There were certain things Chad did not like to think about when lying in bed at night. Not that he’d really ever considered it, but if he made a list, he was pretty sure Ryan Evans would be somewhere on it, and some stupid masseur going down on Ryan Evans would have been even higher.
And yet somehow as he lay in bed, one arm wrapped around a basketball like usual, his brain insisted on replaying everything in detail. The slight dip above Ryan’s hipbone, his delicate fingers clenching his drink, the line of his shoulder and neck… Eric kneeling in front of him.
Chad’s fingers itched his stomach, ran across the elastic of his boxers.
He remembered Ryan in his robe, Ryan in just his boxers. And Ryan on the baseball field, and Ryan showing him choreography for the talent show, and Ryan blushing.
And, goddamnit, Ryan naked again, and Chad’s brain filled in the details of what had happened after he’d walked away. And halfway through the fantasy, Chad realized Eric had never been part of it to begin with, just him and Ryan, and even as his hand slid beneath his boxers, he tried to tell himself he wasn’t fantasizing at all.
Because goddamnit, the occasional weird thoughts he’d had about Troy aside, Chad did not jerk to fantasies of boys, and even if he did, he sure as hell wasn’t going to get off to imaging himself going down on Ryan Evans, of all people.

And then, near the end, things are awkward for various reasons, and Troy obliviously invites Ryan to come play basketball, and Ryan immediately accidentally injures Chad, because that's just how he rolls.
The group gathered for a two-on-two game after they clocked out. And Chad was irritated with himself to realize that when all he saw was a pale figure walk by in his peripheral vision, he knew it was Ryan, probably on his way to the sauna.
“Hey, Ryan!”
Troy was his best friend, so Chad suppressed the urge to kill him.
“Uh…hey, Troy.”
The game froze and everyone turned to see Ryan, wearing track pants and an undershirt, carrying a water bottle. Ryan was obviously doing his best to look at Troy and not at Chad, which Chad told himself he didn’t mind.
“You wanna play?”
Ryan laughed, then straightened up. “You weren’t joking?”
“Why not?” Troy grinned. “Come on, we’re just playing for fun.”
“I was actually on my way to...” He sighed. “I don’t play basketball, Troy. I can manage baseball, where there’s no physical contact, but the whole…pushing, shoving, getting other people’s sweat on you thing? Not really my style.”
“Aw, it won’t hurt you.”
Ryan held up his water bottle. “Also, this is gin. Which does not improve my hand-eye coordination any.”
“Well, you aren’t drunk yet.” Troy shrugged. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I thought it might be fun. Like, you taught everyone to dance, and now we could teach you to play basketball.”
Ryan looked at Troy, then past him. At Chad, who shrugged a little.
So Ryan said, “Okay, but go easy on me.”
Troy grinned widely and Ryan dropped his water bottle and walked self-consciously onto the court. “Okay. So. You guard Chad, okay?”
“I what?”
Troy tossed the ball to Chad. “He’s going to go towards the basket.” Troy pointed, as if to illustrate, “and shoot the ball. All you need to do is get in his face and try and make him miss the basket. And if you steal the ball, that’s a bonus.”
“Uh…” Ryan took a deep breath. “I feel a little ridiculous, Troy.”
“I just want to see what you’ve got, then we’ll play,” Troy promised.
“Okay. Um.” He turned to Chad, who dribbled the ball.
“I’m going to go left,” Chad told him.
“Really?”
“Promise. I’ll start screwing with your head later.”
“Gosh, thanks.”
Chad chuckled and broke for the basket, and Ryan took a second to catch up. He seemed to be able to keep up, at least in terms of running, but Chad didn’t have much of a problem ducking under his arm. He came up and made the jump shot. To Ryan’s credit, he did try to block it; he jumped up, flailing a little. Unfortunately, that flailing didn’t come anywhere near the ball, which bounced off the rim. He did succeed in walloping Chad in the nose with elbow, however.
“Ow!”
“Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Chad reached for his nose and felt blood on his fingers. Ryan pulled out a purple handkerchief and handed it to him. “It’s clean, I swear, try and stop the blood…oh, man, are you okay?”
The whole group crowded around. Chad pressed the handkerchief to his nose. “Is this silk, dude?”
“Uh…yeah?”
“I’m bleeding on silk.” He laughed. “Oww.”
“Chad, I am so, so—“
“Hey, these things happen. You know blood stains, right?”
“Yeah, I do. Don’t worry about the damn handkerchief. Your nose could be broken!”
“My nose isn’t broken.” Chad pulled the waded up fabric away from his face. “Barely bleeding anymore, see?”
“Hey, I’m gonna go get you some ice,” Zeke said. “And there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, I’ll bring it out.”
“Here, come sit,” Ryan said, and led him over to the side of the court to sit on the grass.
“Seriously, guys,” Chad said, “it’s not that bad. Just a little sore. See, bleeding has stopped…well, almost.”
“Do you need to go to the infirmary?” Ryan asked. “I can go get the on-call nurse—“
“Ryan! I am really, really okay. I promise.”
Zeke returned with an ice pack and first aid kit, and while everyone hovered around him, Chad wiped the remaining blood off, applied the ice, and Troy opened a packet of painkillers for him. Ryan handed him his waterbottle, and it wasn’t until Chad had downed half of it that he realized it wasn’t gin.
“Bad hand-eye-coordination while drinking, huh?”
Ryan flushed. “It would be nice if I had an excuse for concussing you. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” Chad put down the ice and realized that Ryan had seated himself next to him on the grass. “I mean it, man. I’m okay. You don’t need to worry.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay.”
Chad could feel Ryan’ body next to him; their thighs were touching. He swallowed hard and put the ice back on his face.
“So much for our game, huh?” Jason mused.
Ryan bit his lip, then said, “If you guys want to play, um, I can open up the member court for you once Chad is recovered.”
The staffers stared at each other. The cement court behind the kitchen was nice enough, but small; inside the activities building was a real, full, professional-grade court.
“You’d do that for us?” Troy asked.
“Well, I did almost kill one of you, so it only seems fair.”
“I’m recovered,” Chad said quickly. “See? No more blood.”
Ryan laughed. “That was quick.”
“The member court is sweet, man.”
Troy offered them each a hand up and turned to Ryan and commented, “You were trying really hard, man. Definitely Wildcat spirit.”

Okay. Done now, methinks. (There is a reason I have a "self indulgent" tag.)

on writing

2009-05-19T00:35:03Z

I just mistyped "Chad's frat" as "Chad's fart." Frankly, I'm surprised it's the first time I've made that typo.

Carry on.

wwc

2009-05-18T02:38:48Z

Less productive this week:

- Novel: 500 words (but chapter 1 finished!)
- Misc fic: 1,100
- Meme for tweendom_anon: 3, 100

Total: 4,700

Maybe better this week. I'm getting geared up for hsmbigbang; I basically know what I'm going to write, but I need to put together a real outline, because right now it's a sketchy plot and a lot of individual scenes in my head, and I need it to gel a bit more. I'm pretty psyched, though, the seeds of this have been in my brain since February, I just needed an excuse to write another long one.

I'd like to work on the novel and Tart this week mostly, though.

Ehrm, this is the anon fic I wrote; it's long and het and Zeke/Sharpay. If you're interested. I might clean it up into actual fic someday. Maybe. Is it weird that I find writing het sex from a male POV infinitely more weird than writing gay sex?

WWC: scattered productivity

2009-05-11T03:35:46Z

- The Novel: 750 words
- Anon meme: 1,200 words
- Fratverse #1: 2,700 words
- Fratverse #2: 1,000 words
- Other: 1,800 words
TOTAL: 7,450 words

Neither of those fratverse fics are actually the one I posted earlier. I wrote it in January, decided I hated it and that it was unsalvageable, and let it languish on my hard drive. In an attempt to get back into the 'verse, I dug it out and realized I liked bits of it, so I cleaned up (mostly edited out) the rest, and voila, instant fic.

The two I actually worked on were the next big arch (tentatively titled "Scenes from a Summer" because I am uncreative) and a random snippet from an OC's POV that popped into my head. As that may never see the internet in finished form,

Friday night, after Jersey had schooled them all at skii-ball at some student events-sponsored carnival, the Pike freshman all trooped over to the house for a pizza party. It sounded very third-grade, but it was part of the Pike pledge bonding thing; for the first couple of months, apparently, they were required to give up their social lives and sit around the house, even when nothing else was going on. Gooey, who was walking over with them, suggested they could clean if they got bored.

Jersey and Womper pushed their way in, and created an instant bottleneck, because they stopped short. Gooey shoved past them and broke into laughter. Adam was tall and lanky enough to squish in and stand on his tiptoes to see.

And what he saw… Wow. He had not expected that.

Corky -- Chad, who actually went by Chad most of the time -- was sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. With a guy. A guy who was sprawled over *Chad*, and not in the casual way the brothers had of piling on each other. In fact, Adam caught his glimpse just in time to see the blond lying across the couch, head in Chad's lap, and definitely not facing the TV. But he straightened up instantly and gave the gawking freshman the bitchiest look Adam had ever seen on anyone with an XY chromosome. And as he sat up, Chad reached for the nearest couch pillow and pulled it on to his lap where Blondie's face had been.

"Jesus Christ, you two," Gooey said. "What are you *doing*?"

"Watching a movie, obviously," Chad said, as his blond friend crossed his arms and looked irritated and aloof.

"Really." Gooey sounded skeptical.

"I wasn't paying that much attention," Chad admitted.

"You two couldn't have taken -- *that* -- to the bedroom?"

"An excellent idea," the blond said. He stretched, lithe and languid, as if he was utterly unconcerned about the fifteen guys who'd just walked in on him, obviously minutes away from giving a guy head on the frat common room couch. He stood, and Adam noticed his pants were really *very* tight. Adam could suddenly make an educated guess at the guy's religion.

"Um," Chad said, and his grip on the pillow tightened visibly.

The blond cast his eyes down and then laughed. "Modesty, really? You?"

"Shut up," Chad told him.

He shrugged. "Well, I'll be upstairs. You're welcome to join me, you know, if you want." And he turned and swaggered to the staircase and up. Every set of eyes in the room watched him go. Adam's throat went dry. Whoever that guy was, he knew how to walk. It was… Distracting. Disconcerting. Disorienting. Something like that.

"I take it I'm sexiled for the weekend," Gooey mused.

"You think?" Chad shook his head. "You guys had to come in now?"

"You *had* to get it on on the couch?" Gooey shot back. "And what are you waiting for, anyway?" He nodded at the stairs.

"Take a wild guess." Chad groaned.

"Ryan's only in town for two days," Gooey said slowly, "and you're letting *that*," he gestured at the couch cushion, "stop you?"

Chad hesitated.

As if to punctuate the conversation, someone -- presumably Ryan, who Adam had to figure was the blond -- yelled, "Chad!" in an extremely irritated voice.

"Yeah," Chad said. "Screw it." He stood, and tossed the cushion aside. And that was the problem with loose jeans: the very obvious tent in the front. He hurried to the stairs and up, but paused partway. He half-turned and said to the still gawking group, "Oh, I'm gay," then dashed the rest of the way up and out of sight.

Well, that was fascinating.

Fic: Something New

2009-05-10T16:39:03Z

Title: Something New
Pairing: Referenced Chad/OC, Sharpay/OC
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sexist frat boys. Gratuitous Chad abuse.
Summary: Chad gets hazed and comes out. Sharpay meets a boy.
[Frat!verse prequel type thing: "Did you know he introduced me and Matt? By accident, of course, I would not have been talking to Chad Danforth intentionally."]

Chad had always figured outraged women only actually slapped men across the face in movies. He hadn't really thought about it or anything, but he'd never even seen Sharpay Evans unleash a real slap on anyone, and she was by far the most dramatic (and easily outraged) person he'd ever met. So it came as something of a shock when Melinda's palm cracked against his cheek. It was loud, and it stung like hell, and by the time he actually processed what had happened, she had turned and stalked away in a huff.

He raised a hand to brush his fingers against his cheek, then turned and stalked back to where two of the active frat members -- Snorts and Matt, his older brother -- were laughing. Snorts broke into applause as he walked up, arms crossed.

"Looked like you were doing okay there, actually," Matt said, grinning widely. "I mean, until she slapped you. How'd you manage to screw it up?"

He held out the hand Melinda had been poised to write her phone number on. Some girl named Tammy's number was already scrawled across his palm. "She figured out I wasn't super sincere," he said simply. "And I guess she was very offended. By the way, ow."

Snorts shook his head. "Close, but no cigar. You've still got to get two more numbers."

Chad sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Okay."

Matt leaned over towards Snorts and they held a hushed conference. Chad let his mind wander while they discussed which unsuspecting girl who wandered by he should hit on next. He'd already managed eight phone numbers over the last few hours -- not bad. But then again, he had it easy. This particular bit of hazing was designed to make shy pledges squirm by making them talk to hot girls, and Chad was really not shy. And anyway, he saw no reason to stress out about asking girls for their phone numbers, since he had zero interest in calling any of them. But he hadn't actually mentioned the fact that he was gay to any of the active frat members yet. He'd get around to that eventually.

"Oh, oh, I got one!" Snorts yelped, and Matt looked where he pointed. Chad looked, too, since he was the one who was going to have to go be charming at her.

And he froze.

"Blond," Matt mused. "Mini-skirt. Pink. Is -- is that a dog in her purse?"

"Yes," Chad groaned.

And that was a mistake. Because Matt and Snorts both turned on him, suddenly looking way too cheerful.

"That," Matt said, "was definitely an unhappy noise."

"Don't tell me we finally found your type," Snorts added gleefully. "Two hours and you haven't squirmed at all. That's, like, a record or something."

"Go get her, kid," Matt said.

Chad debated arguing. But on the other hand, the worst that could happen was that Sharpay slapped him, and that was preferable to whatever torture his future brothers would cook up for him trying to get out of hazing. So, steeling himself for what would doubtlessly be the most unpleasant few minutes since he'd arrived at college, he jogged towards Sharpay.

She saw him coming right before he caught up with her, but didn't break stride as she made her way across the quad and towards one of the buildings. "Hi," he said.

"Oh, it's you." She kept walking, didn't even glance at him. "Let me make this very, very clear, Danforth: you and I are not friends, we're not going to hang out no matter how homesick you are, and I don't have the slightest interest in ever speaking to you."

"Uh huh, ditto," he said. No point in lying. "Thing is, I'm pledging to this frat, and at this exact second I'm being hazed. I'm supposed to get your phone number. I assume the brothers chose you because, you know, it's supposed to be torture. So if you'd please give it to me -- or a fake one, since I'm never going to call you -- that would be awesome."

"I'll bet you never call me," she answered, and actually stopped walking. "But then, to hear Eric tell it, you're not big on calling people in general. And he'd know."

Chad gaped.

He only knew one Eric at U of A. They'd met during orientation week, and... Well, Chad had gone from "never intentionally flirted with a guy" to "no longer a virgin" in a matter of hours, thanks to Eric. And, to his surprise, he hadn't even freaked out or anything afterwards -- he'd really, really enjoyed it, in fact. But Chad hadn't thought Eric had expected him to call, since it wasn't like they were friends or they'd gone on a date or anything. Not a lot of actual talking had happened between smiling at each other across the refreshments table and taking each other's clothing off.

"You know Eric?" he finally said, sounding a little pathetic, even to himself.

"Naturally. As it happens, I'm in the market for a gay sidekick with great fashion sense, preferably who wears a lot of hats."

Yeah, that described Eric pretty well. On the other hand, it also described --

"Out of curiosity, is there a reason your first gay hook-up was with my twin brother's doppleganger?"

"Wouldn't you be your twin brother's doppleganger?" Chad said, ducking the question. "Like, isn't that the whole thing about being twins?"

"At least you're not denying the gay thing," she said, ignoring him almost entirely. "I hope you meant to be out at college, because Eric is a gossip. I doubt I'll be the only person who put together 'freshman basketball player with the hair,' with..." She shuddered. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

"I'm not denying the gay thing," Chad agreed. "I'm not exactly out to everyone yet, but that was the eventual plan. I just..." He glanced over at where Snorts and Matt were trying unsuccessfully to act like they weren't watching. "It hasn't exactly come up in conversation."

"But you want it to?" She looked amused. "That's easily done, Danforth. Should I assume the two jackasses who are pretending very hard not to stare at us are the ones in charge of torturing you?"

"Yes, but -- " He broke off as she started to stride purposefully towards them. He caught up with her easily. "You can't just go out me!"

"Relax, I'm not going to. I'm just going to give you an excuse to do it yourself, if you're really going to do it." Which I doubt hung in the air, unsaid.

Chad groaned. This was going to be bad on so many levels. But there wasn't much he could do about it; she was like a force of nature when she was determined, and Matt and Snorts were about to get hit by Hurricane Sharpay. He wondered if it would rain pink glitter or something.

"Excuse me," she demanded, coming to a halt in front of them, hand on hip and glaring. "Your pledge is bothering me. Do something about it."

Matt and Snorts exchanged looks. Matt said, "Bothering you? That's not what we sent him to do at all."

"Danforth," Snorts said, pitching his voice with mock anger, "drop and give me ten." To Sharpay, "Will that cover it?"

"Oh, you are kidding me," Chad mumbled.

Snorts raised his eyebrows.

"I hate you," Chad informed Sharpay.

"Now that wasn't very nice. Make it twenty," Matt said.

Chad gave up arguing, resigned himself, and got down on the ground to do pushups. He kept listening, though.

"Will that about cover it?" Matt asked Sharpay.

"That is delightful," Sharpay agreed. "But not really the point. First: it is ridiculous that you use girls as a way to test your pledges at all. We're people, not tally marks."

"Three," Chad said loudly, dipping towards the ground. "Four."

But to his surprise, Matt said to Snorts, "She does make a point. I mean, we've literally been tallying them."

"You want to ask her for her number, don't you?" Snorts answered, sounding mildly disgusted.

Chad glanced up. Matt looked suitably guilty.

"Ha," Sharpay snapped. "As if I'd ever give my phone number to an idiot frat boy."

"What about a reasonably intelligent, well-meaning frat boy?" Matt asked.

"Seven!" Chad half-yelled.

"And anyway," Sharpay continued, "it's not only sexist, it's incredibly heterosexist. What makes you think all the girls you're using are even attracted to boys? For that matter, what makes you think all of your pledges are attracted to girls?"

That was her idea of giving him an opening? Chad froze, his arms extended.

"We hope that any of our pledges would be open with us about something like that," Snorts said after a startled second, but he sounded pretty dead serious.

"I'm so sure. With you pressuring them about getting girls' phone numbers, yeah, I'm sure you're all real open to hearing about it. I mean, do any U of A frats have gay members?"

"No one gay has pledged," Matt said. "That's not our fault. We wouldn't have a problem with it."

"I'll bet."

"Hey!" Snorts half-yelled. "I don't know who you are, okay, but don't make assumptions about our frat when you don't know anything!"

Chad looked up. Snorts actually looked outraged, hands clenched into fists. Matt put a hand on his shoulder, looking shaken and defensive. Sharpay, for her part, looked taken aback.

"So prove me wrong," she said finally, but the edge was gone from her voice.

"Not that it's any of your business," Snorts snapped, "but my dad is gay. And I wouldn't be in a frat that wasn't totally open to gay brothers."

"Oh," Sharpay said.

Matt repeated, "We don't have any gay brothers because no one gay has pledged."

"And if any of our pledges turn out to be gay," Snorts said, "we'd be cool with it."

Chad didn't need Sharpay to tell him that was his cue. He still had six pushups to do, but stood, cleared his throat, and said, "Um, actually?" And they turned to look at him. "Um, yeah. I am. Gay. I'm gay."

"Oh," Matt said.

Snorts turned to Matt. "You owe me fifty bucks." To Chad, "It's about time you got around to telling us, Danforth. Come here." Chad stepped forward awkwardly, and Snorts wrapped his arms around Chad and hugged him quickly.

Chad flushed. "I was going to tell everyone. But, you know... The team, and..."

"Dude, I get it," Snorts said. "I have two daddies, remember? Me and Matt will take care of the team and the brothers."

"Really." Sharpay didn't sound too impressed.

Matt gave her a smile. "We have a little influence with important people."

"Important people meaning some drunk guys and the basketball team? Is that supposed to impress me?"

"Can't hurt, right?" Matt shrugged and turned to Snorts. "This all brings up a very good question, though. What do we do about the phone numbers?"

Snorts laughed as he shifted, leaving an arm slung around Chad casually. "Well, obviously, the eight girls don't count. I'm thinking his count drops back to zero and we have Danforth start asking guys."

Chad groaned.

"That sounds good to me," Matt agreed. And to Sharpay, "So you know Chad?"

"Unfortunately."

"How would you like to help us pick out dudes for him?"

"Well, I do like the idea of torturing him," she mused.

"Did I do something to you at some point?" Chad snapped at her.

She turned to Matt. "Your pledge is bothering me again."

"Danforth..." Matt said.

Chad sighed. "Another ten?"

"Yup. And make it snappy; I'm thinking the phone numbers are going to take you a bit longer this time. Just a gut feeling I've got." He gave Chad a wide grin, but shifted it towards Sharpay easily. "My name is Matt, by the way."

Sharpay gave Matt a disdainful look, though it faded and was replaced with mild interest as her gaze swept down his body. Finally she returned his grin with a predatory smile of her own and answered, "Sharpay Evans. Nice to meet you."

wwc

2009-05-04T03:38:55Z

Umm. I wrote a lot this week, but none of it was related to the novel. Oops.

- For tweendom_anon: 2,200 words
- Other HSM porn*: 5,800 words (WHAT.)
- Frat!verse fic: 400 words
- Nerdblog entry: 900 words
TOTAL: 9,300

Now that I've gotten that all out of my system a little, back to the novel this week. (And also Tart.) And if I feel inspired, more work on the next fratverse fic.

* It will never see the light of day. IDEK how that happened.

wwc: whoops!

2009-04-27T03:24:45Z

I was going to work hardcore on the novel this weekend, but got distracted by tweendom_anon. As you will. Stats:

-Novel: 2,400 words
-Anon ficlet #1: 1,300 words
-Anon ficlet #2: 1,600 words
-Anon ficlet #3 (unposted): 900 words
TOTAL: 6,200 words

YOU GUYS. I WROTE HET! Smutty het! I've never done that before! (Both of the anons were het, in fact, and one was even about Chad, despite the fact that I think he is gay gay gay gay gay.) Um. Possibly both involved girls being dominant and on top. Those were the two requests that spoke to me. I wonder what that says about me.

Here's part of the unposted one; I couldn't make it work (read: make it smutty, it just didn't want to).

Zeke rang the bell and Ryan gave him a confused look. Ryan had always thought Zeke was a pretty decent, if pathetic, guy; but it wasn't like they'd kept in touch or anything, especially since Zeke never bothered to update his Facebook or anything. They'd seen each other, what, once over winter break? Ryan only remembered because Zeke had gotten drunk with Troy and his merry band of idiots, and rambled something about being over Sharpay. Ryan had never thought he'd see the day, but good for Zeke. Maybe next he'd find some dignity somewhere.

"Sharpay's not home," Ryan greeted him.

"I know," Zeke said, and held up a zip-locked bag of cookies. "These are for you."

Ryan blinked. On the one hand, weird. On the other hand, Zeke cookies. "Um, 'kay," he said finally, and accepted them. "Did you want to come in, or something?"

Zeke nodded and awkwardly followed Ryan into the living room. Ryan sat on the couch. Zeke sat at the other end. Ryan ate a cookie.

"So did you have a good year?" Zeke finally asked. "I mean -- you must have, right? Juilliard's a great school, so."

"Yeah," Ryan said. "It is. I did." Then, because it was only polite, "How was your -- "

"I'm gay," Zeke blurted.

"Funny," Ryan said, to buy time as he processes that. "I had figured on Troy, not you. Maaaaybe Chad, but that was wishful thinking." He leaned back on the couch and regarded Zeke. "So you … Wanted to talk?" he guessed. "Not out to friends and family yet? Figured I'd be moral support?"

"No," Zeke said, then, "Um. So. I -- um." He tapped his fingers against the arm of the couch. "The thing about Sharpay is she's… You know, hot, and no one ever asked me why I was in love with her when she was a psycho diva and all, so I just sort of let everyone think that I was, you know, um…"

"Straight," Ryan surmised.

"Right." Zeke nodded. "And don't get me wrong, she's very… Very," he said. As if that meant something. "I mean, you know."

"Uh huh." Ryan paused. "You know I'm not just Sharpay, with a dick, right?"

"Yes," Zeke said. "I know. I didn't think of you like that. If anything, I thought of her as you. With tits."

"That's not actually any better."

"I know," Zeke said. "It wasn't like that. It wasn't -- I didn't -- mostly I was just following her around, because that's where you were, and being in love with Sharpay was a great excuse to be near you."

"Oh," Ryan said. He looked at the bag of cookies, which were delicious, and remembered why Sharpay had generally let Zeke follow her around. Zeke could bake. And open jars, and carry heavy things, and reach the top shelves. Useful guy. Also, not exactly hard on the eyes.

Ryan let his gaze flit down Zeke's body. And somehow, Zeke in worn, old, faded jeans? Wicked hot. And the t-shirt. Ryan was pretty sure that it was a size too small. And that was so okay with him.

"Oh?" Zeke repeated.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Oh. That about sums it up." He scooted over on the couch enough to kiss Zeke. Which he expected to be awkward, because everything about the conversation was awkward, and because Zeke didn't sound terribly experienced or confident.

But Zeke kissed like freaking Casanova. Ryan melted just a little bit, and more so when Zeke wrapped an arm around him to tug him closer. "Ryan," he panted, when Ryan finally pulled away to breath. "I want to…"

"What?" Ryan asked, thinking that if Zeke could do anything else half as well as he kissed, there was very little Ryan would say no to.

Only one of my anon requests has been answered. I kind of knew that one would be. Heh.

wwc: rereading and revising

2009-04-20T04:24:07Z

This week, I reread The Novel. And it was bad. In some parts, it was even worse than I thought (I had forgotten that at one point, my protagonist climbs a tree, sits there for five pages while she mentally recaps the plot, and then climbs down. whut.); in others, it was not as bad as I thought, but still pretty bad. (One of those places is the climax. "Not as bad as I thought" isn't saying much since what I thought was "the worst thing ever written in the english language.")

But I reread it, and got a pretty good feel for what needs to be done in rewrites, I think. Today I wrote about a thousand words. This was difficult, because -- unlike my first draft -- I actually care and want to make it, like, good. I really hope I am capable of that.

One thing I've never mentioned here, but that makes me really happy: despite the fact that I have not let anyone read a word of this stupid thing, a lot of people (online and off) have been really supportive. Every time someone asks me how it's going or tells me it sounds like a neat idea or whatever, I get a happy little high; remembering those helps when I think I'm a talentless hack who has for serious been faking it for a long, long time on the writing front. Which is often. So: thanks!

wwc: editing

2009-04-13T03:21:25Z

Fun New Project: ~5,000 words
Random Thing: ~1,200 words

Total: 6,200 words

PLUS. I have begun editing The Novel, though at this point that pretty much just means reading through it and wincing. So I'm going to attempt to continue that, and whatnot.

writing survey meme

2009-04-13T00:14:33Z

Have you ever seen/filled this meme? Not until arieswriting did it, no.

Ideas: Where the hell do they come from? I haven't got the vaguest idea. The idea for The Novel happened when I was sick and doped up on cold medication, driving through a storm on a roadtrip (good times, good times); the idea for FNP was originally something I had for a Valentines fic years and years ago, but never wrote. No clue where it came from.

Wild horse-bunnies: When a story just gets pulled right out of you. Do you get them? Hmm, well, two weeks ago I pulled Rachel aside for spitballing ideas for FNP; a couple days ago I sent the first 12,000 words to a few friends. So yes. Heh.

Writer's block: Have you been scourged? That depends on what you mean? I never can't write, though I'll sometimes -- rarely -- but horribly uninspired for a specific project. I can often force my way through that, though the stuff I write as I'm working on it tends not to be high quality.

Clean up duty: Do you like editing? I'm intimidated by editing, more so than anything else. I'm just starting the process with The Novel, and feeling a bit overwhelmed.

The ending: Is it hard for you to find the ending? Finding the ending, no; I generally know what plot point to go out on, so to speak. But actually writing a last few paragraphs that are emotionally satisfying and sound like a stopping place can be pretty difficult. (In fic, I tend to just have people drive off into the sunset, trufax.)

The title: Where do you get yours? Do you have yours when you start the story? They aren't my strong point; I was chapters in to The Novel before I had anything, and I still don't love it. On the other hand, I adore the title I came up with for FNP.

Plot: If you plot out your stories first, raise your hand. *raises hand* I always know what my beginning, rising action, climax, and resolution are, at least generally, before I start. Otherwise, I'd be wandering, not writing to something, you know? I hate doing that. /(FYI: outlining in Scrivener > outlining in Word, is what I've learned with FNP.)

POV: How do you choose your POV for a scene? For a story? I'm a little bitter about this right now, actually. I've always been a third person omniscient girl, and wrote 3/4 of The Novel that way. Then realized that one of the main reasons it wasn't clicking for me was the POV, and I wrote the final quarter in first person. Now I need to go through and rewrite the whole first three quarters. OY. As for FNP, I want it in first person for the narrator's voice -- it's wacky! -- but a few scenes that will have to be included are things the narrator doesn't witness, so I've decided to do those in third, probably omniscient. I think I've found a smooth way to make those transitions, but we'll see.

Challenge: Do you like them? Do they inspire you? No. Blehhhh.

Sex: Do you like writing sex? Only in fic, and even then it's not that I like writing it, it's that I like the end result. Heh.

WWC

2009-04-06T03:14:19Z

Fun New Project: 6,600 words

HELL yes. I know I'm still in the honeymoon phase, and that's why it seems so fun and exciting, but FNP is pretty awesome. I just went through and fleshed out my outline some; I'm still missing some crucial details, but I'm confident it'll all work out. I love most of my characters, who have all finally been introduced. I'm just about done with the establishing stuff and about to get into the real plot, which I'm super excited for. Srsly. \o/

BTW, this icon is oddly appropriate for FNP, since FNP basically imports Blink and Smurf from HISMSV, and Chad and Ryan from R3R (with about 80% less angst). In case you were wondering why I'm SO psyched. Heh.

wwc

2009-03-30T02:34:52Z

Fic: ~ 300 words
Tart: ~900 words
The Novel: ~2,900 words

TOTAL: 4,100 words

More productive than it seems: I finished the novel AND I finished the chapter of Tart. And somehow I outlined a new novel to work on. I hadn't been planning to do that, but I'm pretty psyched. It features lots of wacky hijinks, a girl who totally hates the guy she secretly loves, and boys smooching. I will probably start that this week.