Entry tags:
assorted scraps from the last reds ficlet
I mentioned that the last Reds ficlet underwent some rewrites. A common problem I think I have is I get too hung up on trying to set things up, which you don't always have time for in a short piece.
Here was my first attempt at the intro.
---
“You’re kidding.”
Brick nudged Blossom aside with his good shoulder so he could see. “What? Is it bugs? Don’t tell me it’s fucking leaking.” Thunder and lightning punctuated his statement.
She moved out of the doorway. He took in the single queen-sized bed, framed by yellow walls, a popcorn ceiling, and a carpet straight out of The Shining.
“I’ll go talk to them,” she said, avoiding his eye as she turned to venture back out into the pouring rain. She grazed his other shoulder and he hissed.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, going motherly. Some blood had started to seep through his shirt.
“It’s fine,” he said, and edged past her into the room. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
Her throat seized. She wasn’t sure if he meant the rescue or the bed.
He sighed as he gingerly shucked his shirt, careful to avoid his wound. “Come on. It’s clean, it’s pissing rain out there, and it’s fucking two am.”
She stared out at the rain, water cascading down the street like a river. A line of trees swayed in the storm. It was coming down so hard that she couldn’t even see the mountains, save for when the lightning struck.
She closed the door.
“Do you need a hand?” she asked, pulling out the bandage dressings from the bag the woman at the front desk had given them.
He took the gauze and tape without looking at her. “No.”
The door to the bathroom shut. She sighed.
---
The other thing I don't love about the early intro I wrote is it doesn't quite set up the right tone; it's a little too heavy and bleak.
I also suffered from not having read the prompt correctly; for some reason my brain dropped the "school trip" aspect during my initial writings so I insteadwasted spent most of my early words on the idea that the Reds were coming together as adults long after a tortured on/off again relationship, culminating in them sleeping together. Blossom's discovery of the condoms in their room (her room in the finished draft) was originally much more drawn out - like, she winds up checking them and discovering some jackass has stuck a pin in a few of them and throws those out, hence the bit later on down where she has a moment of panic after grabbing one.
You might also notice that heavy/bleak tone carries over here, too.
---
“Why did you break up with me?”
“You broke up with me first.”
“All we ever did was fight each other.”
“People fight all the time. It’s normal—”
He closed his eyes and sighed. She wanted to kiss him and hated herself for it.
That was the problem, they each wanted to be the most important thing in the other’s life. But that was part of the problem. Brick eclipsed everything, so much so that she couldn’t even see herself.
“We were poisoning each other. It was a tragedy in the making. We were a disaster.”
But we were together.
This was the most contact they’d had since, probably. This was the closest they’d gotten to each other. Brick was less than a foot away from her and yet, staring at him, she felt impossibly lonely.
When they had been together she had always waited for him to be the first to say things, to express something, anything to her. She thought she had wanted to push him to be a better person. But maybe it had been because she was proud.
Well. Hard to feel proud here, laying in a bed with an ex who had at times felt like the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her, simultaneously. Hard to feel proud when not two minutes ago she had pressed her cheek to his back and wished, wished, wished.
“I miss you.”
It was like letting a little poison leave her.
She wondered if anyone else had ever seen this trick that still took her by surprise—Brick’s eyes widening imperceptibly, just before that hardness left them.
His jaw clenched a little when he swallowed, and his attention went to her hands, laying between them. He reached for them, and she let him trail his hand along her wrists, his touch reverential.
“I miss you, too.”
His hands wound themselves in hers, their foreheads touching. She could still smell the toothpaste on his breath, and then she was tasting it, the sharpness of mint that lingered in his mouth. Her hands pulled away from his to tangle in his hair, drawing his face closer so she could kiss him, hard.
His body felt familiar under her hands, and cotton was such a flimsy barrier, easy to shed, throw aside. He hissed a breath when she touched him, and she rolled over on top of him, her hair curtaining around them, and it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared.
She pressed her hips to his and delighted in his gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
You shouldn’t, her brain thought, dimly through the fog of lust and longing and pain. We shouldn’t.
I don’t care, she thought back, always fighting herself. She could still remember the heartbreak. It was a pain she’d never forget. She didn’t want to lay here next to him and let it haunt her all night.
She fumbled for the nightstand drawer and the unexpected treasure it held, worrying for one panicked moment that she had missed one, that she had made a mistake and thrown the wrong ones away. But still she fumbled with the package, hands sweating too much to get a good enough grip to tear it. Brick took it from her and flipped her onto her back, and in the next instant it was on and he felt so familiar and right and perfect.
He stared down at her in a way that she had never seen enough, had always wanted more of. No anger or malice, just this look that made her feel like she was his entire world. It filled her heart so much, so much that she felt like it would burst with joy. She drew the covers up over their heads, and then he was doing that thing, that thing where he eclipsed the moon, the stars, the entire night sky. The entire universe. Brick eclipsed it all.
Their respective burdens stopped existing, all they could see was each other. Poison, he had called it. They kissed again and she drank it in. A river of it. She’d drink the entire polluted river tonight as long as they could be together.
---
Oof, maudlin as hell. Is it too late for me to say this is an early draft? There's good bits and pieces but the whole of it is too, too. Just so overwrought. Ugh.
It carried over into the ending, which, with some cuts/edits, I was able to salvage for the final draft. I really liked the idea of the two of them pretending to be asleep just so they could have a little more time together.
---
They lay wrapped up in each other’s arms, pretending to be asleep. The covers had slipped past their shoulders as they slept.
She thought about how their last fight had ended, the one that had made him leave. He had told her that she made him want to destroy the whole world and everything in it, until all they had left was each other and there was no longer anything to fight about.
She had been horrified and had told him so and so he had left.
That was the problem. They each wanted to be the most important person in the other’s lives, above everything else—family, friends, the world. And neither of them had been willing to budge.
She stared at the line of his shoulder, rising and falling with his breath, for what felt like hours, but when she heard the rattle of the housekeeping cart, still several rooms down, time had seemed to pass so quickly.
She gave it a few more rooms, waiting to see if he would move.
“Brick,” she said, finally. The cart was two rooms away, now. They had to find the bus, or go home, whichever. They had to leave this room, this bed. She blinked back tears.
“Brick,” she said, a little louder now, because he hadn’t stirred. “We have to go.”
His arms tightened around her. She wondered how long he’d been awake.
“Wait,” he whispered, and it was the smallest sound she’d ever heard him make, in all the time they’d known each other.
She stared at that popcorn ceiling and thought about the things he had told her last night that he had never before said to her and might never say to her again. It clotted her throat.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice impossibly small as he squeezed her closer. “Not yet. Just… just a little longer.”
---
Did I mention this was overwrought? Ugh, yeah. I spent a couple of weeks very into this version, then, upon reading it over, I felt like it was just sad breakup porn for the sake of bad breakup porn, basically. I stepped away from it for a few weeks. Sometimes what happens is I work on a thing so much that I hate it, then come back and go "Wait, this is Not Terrible," but when that didn't happen with this one and my re-read consisted of me cringing at the Melodramatic Purple Prose Painyness of it all, I knew I needed to rework it. And then I reread the prompt and went Oh wait this wouldn't have worked anyway lol.
Part of the problem I had was with the nature of the Only One Bed trope itself - it's popular for a reason, but I didn't want to play to the usual hijinks, I wanted to try and play it straight. I thought it would be more interesting for the tension to come not from "We're attracted to each other and now we have to share a bed, OH NO," but from "We're attracted to each other but have a long history of things Definitely Not Working Out Between Us Despite Trying To Make It Work and now we have to share a bed, well great," but that just resulted in this mess.
I also did not like how passive Blossom came across in this early attempt. While she does make some choices, too many things just kind of happen to her here, and I never love her being so hung up and desperate for Brick's attention that she makes bad choices, especially for the sake of drama. I wanted her choices in this story to have more neutral-to-positive consequences, the one exception being the end when everything culminates in BOTH of them not being ready to face the prospect of making this relationship they both want real.
I'm happy with where it wound up - them in separate rooms, and Blossom being the one to make that choice and open the door and share the bed. I think the final version is more sweet and hopeful while still maintaining that sadness that I can't ever seem to not write for this pairing.
On a final note, here is the song that was included in![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
otakuspirit's original prompt:
I also drew heavily from this one for them sharing the bed (I know I've posted it before, but w/e idwiw). For some reason this kind of EDM really puts me in a sappy, romantic mood.
I've got some scrapped bits from the Greens ficlet that recently got posted as well, though it's not nearly as much. Just a few lines that served as general inspo. Next week! For everyone who's celebrating, have a Happy Turkey Day in the meantime 🦃
Here was my first attempt at the intro.
---
“You’re kidding.”
Brick nudged Blossom aside with his good shoulder so he could see. “What? Is it bugs? Don’t tell me it’s fucking leaking.” Thunder and lightning punctuated his statement.
She moved out of the doorway. He took in the single queen-sized bed, framed by yellow walls, a popcorn ceiling, and a carpet straight out of The Shining.
“I’ll go talk to them,” she said, avoiding his eye as she turned to venture back out into the pouring rain. She grazed his other shoulder and he hissed.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, going motherly. Some blood had started to seep through his shirt.
“It’s fine,” he said, and edged past her into the room. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
Her throat seized. She wasn’t sure if he meant the rescue or the bed.
He sighed as he gingerly shucked his shirt, careful to avoid his wound. “Come on. It’s clean, it’s pissing rain out there, and it’s fucking two am.”
She stared out at the rain, water cascading down the street like a river. A line of trees swayed in the storm. It was coming down so hard that she couldn’t even see the mountains, save for when the lightning struck.
She closed the door.
“Do you need a hand?” she asked, pulling out the bandage dressings from the bag the woman at the front desk had given them.
He took the gauze and tape without looking at her. “No.”
The door to the bathroom shut. She sighed.
---
The other thing I don't love about the early intro I wrote is it doesn't quite set up the right tone; it's a little too heavy and bleak.
I also suffered from not having read the prompt correctly; for some reason my brain dropped the "school trip" aspect during my initial writings so I instead
You might also notice that heavy/bleak tone carries over here, too.
---
“Why did you break up with me?”
“You broke up with me first.”
“All we ever did was fight each other.”
“People fight all the time. It’s normal—”
He closed his eyes and sighed. She wanted to kiss him and hated herself for it.
That was the problem, they each wanted to be the most important thing in the other’s life. But that was part of the problem. Brick eclipsed everything, so much so that she couldn’t even see herself.
“We were poisoning each other. It was a tragedy in the making. We were a disaster.”
But we were together.
This was the most contact they’d had since, probably. This was the closest they’d gotten to each other. Brick was less than a foot away from her and yet, staring at him, she felt impossibly lonely.
When they had been together she had always waited for him to be the first to say things, to express something, anything to her. She thought she had wanted to push him to be a better person. But maybe it had been because she was proud.
Well. Hard to feel proud here, laying in a bed with an ex who had at times felt like the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her, simultaneously. Hard to feel proud when not two minutes ago she had pressed her cheek to his back and wished, wished, wished.
“I miss you.”
It was like letting a little poison leave her.
She wondered if anyone else had ever seen this trick that still took her by surprise—Brick’s eyes widening imperceptibly, just before that hardness left them.
His jaw clenched a little when he swallowed, and his attention went to her hands, laying between them. He reached for them, and she let him trail his hand along her wrists, his touch reverential.
“I miss you, too.”
His hands wound themselves in hers, their foreheads touching. She could still smell the toothpaste on his breath, and then she was tasting it, the sharpness of mint that lingered in his mouth. Her hands pulled away from his to tangle in his hair, drawing his face closer so she could kiss him, hard.
His body felt familiar under her hands, and cotton was such a flimsy barrier, easy to shed, throw aside. He hissed a breath when she touched him, and she rolled over on top of him, her hair curtaining around them, and it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared.
She pressed her hips to his and delighted in his gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
You shouldn’t, her brain thought, dimly through the fog of lust and longing and pain. We shouldn’t.
I don’t care, she thought back, always fighting herself. She could still remember the heartbreak. It was a pain she’d never forget. She didn’t want to lay here next to him and let it haunt her all night.
She fumbled for the nightstand drawer and the unexpected treasure it held, worrying for one panicked moment that she had missed one, that she had made a mistake and thrown the wrong ones away. But still she fumbled with the package, hands sweating too much to get a good enough grip to tear it. Brick took it from her and flipped her onto her back, and in the next instant it was on and he felt so familiar and right and perfect.
He stared down at her in a way that she had never seen enough, had always wanted more of. No anger or malice, just this look that made her feel like she was his entire world. It filled her heart so much, so much that she felt like it would burst with joy. She drew the covers up over their heads, and then he was doing that thing, that thing where he eclipsed the moon, the stars, the entire night sky. The entire universe. Brick eclipsed it all.
Their respective burdens stopped existing, all they could see was each other. Poison, he had called it. They kissed again and she drank it in. A river of it. She’d drink the entire polluted river tonight as long as they could be together.
---
Oof, maudlin as hell. Is it too late for me to say this is an early draft? There's good bits and pieces but the whole of it is too, too. Just so overwrought. Ugh.
It carried over into the ending, which, with some cuts/edits, I was able to salvage for the final draft. I really liked the idea of the two of them pretending to be asleep just so they could have a little more time together.
---
They lay wrapped up in each other’s arms, pretending to be asleep. The covers had slipped past their shoulders as they slept.
She thought about how their last fight had ended, the one that had made him leave. He had told her that she made him want to destroy the whole world and everything in it, until all they had left was each other and there was no longer anything to fight about.
She had been horrified and had told him so and so he had left.
That was the problem. They each wanted to be the most important person in the other’s lives, above everything else—family, friends, the world. And neither of them had been willing to budge.
She stared at the line of his shoulder, rising and falling with his breath, for what felt like hours, but when she heard the rattle of the housekeeping cart, still several rooms down, time had seemed to pass so quickly.
She gave it a few more rooms, waiting to see if he would move.
“Brick,” she said, finally. The cart was two rooms away, now. They had to find the bus, or go home, whichever. They had to leave this room, this bed. She blinked back tears.
“Brick,” she said, a little louder now, because he hadn’t stirred. “We have to go.”
His arms tightened around her. She wondered how long he’d been awake.
“Wait,” he whispered, and it was the smallest sound she’d ever heard him make, in all the time they’d known each other.
She stared at that popcorn ceiling and thought about the things he had told her last night that he had never before said to her and might never say to her again. It clotted her throat.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice impossibly small as he squeezed her closer. “Not yet. Just… just a little longer.”
---
Did I mention this was overwrought? Ugh, yeah. I spent a couple of weeks very into this version, then, upon reading it over, I felt like it was just sad breakup porn for the sake of bad breakup porn, basically. I stepped away from it for a few weeks. Sometimes what happens is I work on a thing so much that I hate it, then come back and go "Wait, this is Not Terrible," but when that didn't happen with this one and my re-read consisted of me cringing at the Melodramatic Purple Prose Painyness of it all, I knew I needed to rework it. And then I reread the prompt and went Oh wait this wouldn't have worked anyway lol.
Part of the problem I had was with the nature of the Only One Bed trope itself - it's popular for a reason, but I didn't want to play to the usual hijinks, I wanted to try and play it straight. I thought it would be more interesting for the tension to come not from "We're attracted to each other and now we have to share a bed, OH NO," but from "We're attracted to each other but have a long history of things Definitely Not Working Out Between Us Despite Trying To Make It Work and now we have to share a bed, well great," but that just resulted in this mess.
I also did not like how passive Blossom came across in this early attempt. While she does make some choices, too many things just kind of happen to her here, and I never love her being so hung up and desperate for Brick's attention that she makes bad choices, especially for the sake of drama. I wanted her choices in this story to have more neutral-to-positive consequences, the one exception being the end when everything culminates in BOTH of them not being ready to face the prospect of making this relationship they both want real.
I'm happy with where it wound up - them in separate rooms, and Blossom being the one to make that choice and open the door and share the bed. I think the final version is more sweet and hopeful while still maintaining that sadness that I can't ever seem to not write for this pairing.
On a final note, here is the song that was included in
otakuspirit's original prompt:I also drew heavily from this one for them sharing the bed (I know I've posted it before, but w/e idwiw). For some reason this kind of EDM really puts me in a sappy, romantic mood.
I've got some scrapped bits from the Greens ficlet that recently got posted as well, though it's not nearly as much. Just a few lines that served as general inspo. Next week! For everyone who's celebrating, have a Happy Turkey Day in the meantime 🦃