So, in part I was avoiding reading through my PBB because I was sad about it coming to and end, and in part I was avoiding it because I was afraid I’d get halfway through it and go “this sucks, I hate it”, and OF COURSE, the latter is happening. GAH.
I think I’ll just to skip to the parts that I know for sure need tweaking and then send it off to my betas, because otherwise I might end up setting my computer on fire.
I’m feeling you! I’ve been scared to open mine for two weeks, and I’m cringing at certain sentences and thank god for betas.
Chris stood up, intending to head back home. A sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, and he staggered, falling to his knees on the shearling rug. He pitched forward onto his hands and retched as his entire torso spasmed.
“Buddy, you ok?” Elvis asked, alarmed. He got down beside him and took his arm.
Chris reached for him but another wave of what he could only call pain wracked his frame and he retched again, but of course nothing came out. It was another agonizing minute before whatever it was subsided enough that he could move. He looked up at Elvis with eyes streaming with tears. “What the hell was that?”
Elvis helped him to the couch, where Chris sat doubled over, cradling his aching stomach.
“That, my friend, was reintegration, though I’ve never seen anyone have such a violent reaction.”
“Reintegration?”
“It’s the feeling you get when someone in your cohort arrives. Someone close to you has just died.”
Chris rose, despite still feeling like shit, and stepped toward the door. “I have to find out who, I have to go to them.”
“You know you’re not supposed to.”
“Yeah, but they’re gonna wake up all alone and not know what the hell to do. I can’t make them go through the same hell I have, the confusion, feeling lost all the time?”
“Everyone’s supposed to find their way,” Elvis said.
“You sound like Virgil,” Chris spat. “Now tell me how to find out who it is.”
Elvis raised his eyebrows. “Mind yer tone, mister.”
“OK fine. Please, oh great King of Rock and Roll, will you help me find whoever it is who’s died.”
“You’re a sarcastic little shit, you know that?”
“I didn’t used to be.”
Elvis rolled his eyes, but his face softened and he looked at Chris kindly. “Fine. The power to do it lies in the feeling, but you have to act now before it fades. Let it pull you to them, it’s easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“That’s all?” Elvis nodded. “Thanks,” he said, grasping his friend’s hands and projecting as much gratitude as he could. “So much.”
“Whatever. Get outta here, you’ve got maybe an hour.”
Chris left hurriedly, resisting every urge he had to lie down and writhe quietly on the ground, and let the feeling draw him along. It didn’t take long.
GO ALL OF YOU! YOU CAN DO IT! I AM SO EXCITED TO READ ALL THE THINGS.
Also I vicariously feel your pain because writing is hard and deadlines suck and life is lifey and fuck it’s almost holidays why did you do this and editing and fic drops and anxiety and fear. BUT REST ASSURED WE WILL WAIT PATIENTLY AND LOVE ALL OVER YOU WHEN YOU FINISH. YOU’RE ALL SO AWESOME.
Raise your hand if you know PBB writers can do it!!
GO ALL OF YOU! YOU CAN DO IT! I AM SO EXCITED TO READ ALL THE THINGS.
Also I vicariously feel your pain because writing is hard and deadlines suck and life is lifey and fuck it’s almost holidays why did you do this and editing and fic drops and anxiety and fear. BUT REST ASSURED WE WILL WAIT PATIENTLY AND LOVE ALL OVER YOU WHEN YOU FINISH. YOU’RE ALL SO AWESOME.
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