Everything That's Wrong Ever With Writing

THESE ARE ALL THE THINGS WRONG WITH MY FANFICS. I am making a post because at the point where I start hating the story I am currently writing (this point is inevitable) the things I hate are always exactly the same things and then I bore everyone by whinging on twitter. So I will now have a helpful list here to refer back to instead! :D

- all of my fics are hurt/comfort
- I literally don't care much about genre or plot beyond hurt/comfort
- this is terrible with zero literary merit and I should Be Ashamed
- my hurt is so melodramatic. Increasingly melodramatic. Absolutely without-semblance-of-realism melodramatic.
- all of my comfort scenes are essentially the same and first involve heart-felt conversations and then the characters falling asleep to end the fic
(- thank fuck I'm now in a fandom where no one is ever sensible enough to go to the hospital because I got so sick of writing hospital scenes which were even more the same scene)
- I write Shen Wei as waaaaaay too much of a woobie
- I write Zhao Yunlan as literally having the patience of a saint in regards to his boyfriend and this is a bit unfair to him to keep making him put up with so much
- I have discovered/remembered a new kink which is "characters magically exhausting themselves" and I have started overusing it to a ridiculous degree
- I use too many italics

I let Ellie read this in draft and she says it's the most ridiculous DW post she's ever seen and also that she finds it very useful knowing that when I start whinging about my current fic it means that it's ready to post in the next couple of days, so she takes it as a trailer of sorts. Thanks, supportive wife.

Feel free to share your own fic whinges. This is a whinge post.

Sunday Six

Posting this early in the day because I might have actually finished this story by this evening and then I would have nothing to put here.

---

"You're feeling better?" Shen Wei asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Zhao Yunlan said, and then paused. Went rigid. "Shen Wei, what have you been doing?"

Shen Wei didn't pretend not to understand. "Your fever was dangerous," he said. "I had to do something." He struggled to sit up, and found Zhao Yunlan helping him. He was grateful for the darkness.

Zhao Yunlan was quiet for a moment. "You could have asked me first," he said.

"But you might have refused," Shen Wei argued. "And you needed —" He had a sudden intuition about how Zhao Yunlan was taking his words, and stopped talking.