#writters block

So I sat down and started writing a fanfic.

For a long time, this story existed anonymously. I decided to run a little experiment: I wanted the story to live on its own — without my name, without expectations, without “this is the author you already know.” Just the text.

And honestly, I didn’t expect it to get so much attention.

Thank you to everyone who found this story, read it, left kudos, wrote comments, and experienced everything with Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. Thank you to those who waited for updates, who cursed at the cliffhangers, who smiled during the tender moments and suffered during the painful ones. You made this fanfic truly alive.

"Red Silk of Destiny" is a story about how scary and beautiful it can be to love. About the masks we wear, about the fear of being seen, and about how sometimes the man in red turns out to be closer than you could ever imagine.

Now that the story is finished, I can finally take off the mask.

This is my fanfic: [AO3]

If you felt warmth, sadness, sweetness, or pain while reading — then I did everything right. Thank you for staying until the very end. I love you all very much 💕

and when they say stuff like “her beautiful doe eyes”? some of us don’t have that. so what are we supposed to do? imagine we do? Please not everyone has those features, so why assume that’s the default?

and don’t even get me started on the skin tone. “her pale skin”? lord have mercy. not every human being on this planet has one skin tone. most of us have melanin! and you’re out here writing “her pale white skin,” “she’s blushing” i know for sure i can’t turn red, i’m lightskin! Many of us have melanin, and humanity as a whole includes people of every complexion dark-skinned, brown-skinned, light-skinned, people with vitiligo, albinism, brown people and so many other variations. The same goes for hair textures and colors, eye shades, and facial features. people with straight, wavy, curly, coily hair blue, green, hazel, gray, brown, or dark eyes hair that’s blonde, black, châtaigne, yellow, whatever

What I’m advocating for is inclusivity in writing. On my own account, I intentionally avoid describing YN’s physical traits, hair texture, skin tone, body type, or height because I want every reader to see themselves reflected in the story. When someone asks me to write about YN being insecure, I don’t specify what the insecurity is. Why? Because insecurities differ. Some people may feel self-conscious about being chubby, while others might struggle with being too thin. Some are insecure about being too short, others about being tall etc.... So if I were to write a story about one type of insecurity, it could alienate everyone else. And if I have to be specific about the insecurity for example, the reader is insecure about being chubby, which is a very common insecurity sadly I’ll just write chubby!reader, plump!reader, or curvy!reader, that’s it. Or if the reader is insecure about having a darker skin tone (from fair to darkskin), oh hell yeah, I’ll mention it as skin-colored!reader. Or if she’s insecure about her curls taking coils in the term, because coils are curls, tight curls I’ll just write curlyhaired!reader. That’s it. It’s specific, not hard, is it?

Haechan and you curled up on the couch, the gentle hum of music playing in the background. The room was dimly lit, with fairy lights casting a warm glow that made everything feel cozy and inviting. A fluffy blanket was draped over both of you, and you felt the comforting weight of it as Haechan settled in beside you.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked, scrolling through the streaming options. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked in his oversized hoodie.

“How about that new series everyone’s talking about?” you suggested, nudging him playfully.

“Only if you promise not to judge me if I get too invested,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Deal!” you said, leaning in closer as he hit play. As the opening credits rolled, you found yourself getting lost in the moment, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

Halfway through the first episode, Haechan turned to you, his expression suddenly serious. “Okay, but what if this character makes a really bad choice? I’m going to need your commentary,” he said, looking genuinely concerned.

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’ll be your guide through this fictional chaos,” you promised.

As the plot thickened, you both leaned in, fully engrossed in the story. Between sips of hot cocoa and bursts of laughter at the absurd moments, you felt a sense of comfort that made the world outside fade away.

When the episode ended, Haechan turned to you, a soft smile on his face. “This is the best way to spend a night in,” he said, his voice warm and genuine.

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling grateful for these little moments that felt so big. You snuggled closer, both of you ready for another episode, knowing that as long as you were together, every night felt special.

Haechan and you were still curled up on the couch, the warmth of the blanket cocooning you both as the series continued. With each episode, the tension between the characters started to heat up, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Haechan, who was fully engrossed in the drama unfolding on screen.

“You’re really invested, huh?” you teased, nudging him gently.

“Can you blame me? This is getting intense!” he replied, feigning innocence. But you could see the way his cheeks flushed at the romantic moments, his excitement infectious.

As the story progressed, the atmosphere shifted. The characters were now tangled in a love triangle, and Haechan leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “What would you do in that situation?” he asked, eyes glinting with mischief.

You thought for a moment, biting your lip. “Honestly? I’d probably make a bold move,” you said, matching his playful tone.

“Bold moves, huh?” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I like the sound of that.”

Feeling a rush of courage, you turned to face him, your heart racing. “What if we tried making a bold move right now?” you suggested, your gaze locking onto his.

Haechan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

Before you could answer, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against his. The kiss was gentle at first, but the moment he responded, heat ignited between you. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body and the rush of electricity that shot through you both.

He pulled away slightly, breathless, a playful grin on his face. “Wow, that was definitely a bold move.”

“Guess we’re just following the storyline,” you quipped, heart racing.

Have been suffering for the last 4 weeks from a writter block.

My brain only allow me to read classical littrature, not even allowing me to read One Piece fanfictions, even the stories / authors that I've been following for weeks / months.

It's not even that I don't have any ideas anymore. I have that story that I began to write few days before my writter block began. I want to finish this story, but I just can't. And when I force myself to write this story, I feel like that's the worst thing anyone on this planet ever wrote.