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    Avogadro1001
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

D for Dylan - 9. Chapter Nine

Hey guys! Things will take a very steamy, “Cruel Intentions” kind of vibe in this chapter. Just a heads up, definitely 18+ content here.

“You look tired,” Elle noted, as I poked the food on the tray with the plastic fork.

We were eating lunch and I did everything in my power to keep my eyes on the salad, careful not to look at Liam. His bruises have mostly faded away. Somehow, I wasn’t able to inflict much damage even armed with a baseball bat, which felt both pathetic and alleviating at the same time. I knew he was watching me, his gaze was almost burning my skin. I wasn’t going to do him a favor by paying attention.

“Did you have too much fun with Jake last night?” Elle asked, once again flapping her lashes in an innocent gesture and prompting Pete to choke on his chili.

“Elle, I’ve told you a million times already, we aren’t having sex yet.”

“Really?” she gasped theatrically. “You look like somebody was shagging you all night long.”

“Elle, you’re making him uncomfortable...” Pete butted into the conversation.

“Oh, don’t you dare stopping my emotional abuse!” she brushed off. “Our baby needs to get laid!”

“Can you at least let him finish his-” Peter muttered, but Elle cut him off.

“You can agree with me, or join him in celibacy,” she threatened.

She winked at her boyfriend and Pete nervously gulped, glancing at me.

“You need to get laid, man.” he copied.

“Traitor.” I came back.

To be perfectly honest, Elle wasn’t too far from truth when she assumed I was worn out. I haven’t had a good sleep in over a week. I couldn’t stop thinking about Liam, I spent nights playing out the events of last Saturday, trying to calm down the roller coaster of emotions still swirling in my brain. Hurt, guilt, anger, lust… It was all so incredibly confusing. Memories from the past drowned me, steering up old feelings that I’ve spent years dampening, only to have them resurface in the most uncomfortable of moments. I felt like a heroin addict, struggling to get clean, only to wake up with a needle in my vein. Liam Henderson was my single most addictive narcotic, personally crafted to alter every neurotransmitter in my brain. I thought I got over him, but there he was again, dominating my thoughts with uncontrolled surges of dopamine.

I squeezed my fists, feeling pulsating warmth making its way across my groin, despite titanic efforts to prevent it. The smell of his aftershave left a permanent mark in my conscience, I still shuddered at lingering memory of his strong scent, as if I was still back in that billiard room, with his mouth on mine, his cheek rubbing softly against my nose. I almost moaned out loud, recalling his lips pressing into mine, forcing them to yield to his shape. His cool, wet tongue sliding past my lips, brushing against my own, rubbing my gums. I still felt his warm hands holding my neck, fingers digging into my hair...

I bit my lip in shame and slipped a glance at him. Our eyes met. He winked at me. I wanted to walk up to his table and wipe that grin off his face. Who the hell did he think he was? He didn’t have an ounce of power over me, he was a nobody, all I wanted was for him to leave me alone.

As luck would have it, on that very moment, Jessica sat on his lap and kissed him.

What a fucking slut Liam was. I could see their tongues wresting, sucking mouths parting with a camera snapshot sound, only to merge back together. He was groping her, they were making people uncomfortable. These two were smearing spit all over each other for the better half of last year, never shying away from the audience. Jess knew how obsessed other girls were over Liam, he was her trophy, her greatest achievement that she shoved and rubbed into their faces. The girl was manipulative and cruel, but then again, that’s exactly how he liked them. They resembled an unlikely union of a lion and a hyena. Whatever the case was, they were constantly making out in public and I prayed they’d stumble across the kind enough soul to lead them in a direction of a sign up page for OnlyFans.

Chills were running down my spine, muscles tensed in the back of my neck. He was looking at me, even through their kiss. I saw the corner of his lip twitching while he was rubbing her tonsils with his tongue, as though he wanted me to look. I gritted my teeth in anger, failing to remain unprovoked. When they deepened their make out session and wrapped their arms around each other, I grabbed my pudding, stood off the table and stormed out of the cafeteria, scaring the hell out of both Peter and Elle.

“Fuck him,” I whistled angrily, hyperventilating and struggling to find something to kick.

‘Why the fuck was he doing it? This had to be on purpose! Just another stupid joke he was trying to pull on me!’

I couldn’t stop ruminating, ignoring phone calls from my friends.

I knew the bastard my entire life, I knew exactly how his brain worked - in a world where tons of people landed on a spectrum of bisexuality, his position on that line was very rigid. Completely straight. There was no way he liked guys, no way he could actually feel something for me. He wasn’t anything like Sebastian, there wasn’t a slightest chance, not a single point in the multiverse of scenarios, leading to such royally fucked up outcome. It was just another fucking trick, a goodbye prank he planned to pull on me before graduation, to make sure I’ll remember him for the rest of my life.

He thought he could play me so easily? He thought I’d throw myself at him just because I used to have feelings for him? What a hopeless, pathetic loser. For a moment, I regretted not hitting him harder last Saturday, to knock out any remaining gunpowder he was saving up for me. He must’ve been so sure, so fucking convinced that I still loved him... His baseless arrogance, that sickening ‘You’re mine’ bullshit he pulled that night… God, that asshole had no idea what was coming for him. Two people could play this game. If he was so sure of himself, if he thought he’d be the one setting the rules and pulling the strings, he was in for a big fucking surprise.

Unclenching my fists, I exited the school building and went for a walk around the premises to clear my mind.

I did my best to avoid Liam for the next few days, but it proved to be a difficult task. He was constantly following me everywhere I went, he watched me during classes, on breaks, even as he ran the training with his team. More so, I saw his car stalking my driveway on more than one occasion. I knew what he was doing, he was priming me for his next move, looking for an opening to stay alone with me. I wasn’t going to fall for that trap. I ignored his phone calls and texts, every time he tried to approach me I went in a different direction. I attempted to clear my mind from intrusive thoughts about him and focus on my relationships with Jake and my friends instead.

Another aggravating factor was my upcoming 18th birthday. It was right around the corner, I knew Jake was preparing something and whatever it was, the outcome was easy to predict. I had no grand expectations about losing virginity, but every time I closed my eyes to picture us together in bed, I was back at Jason’s party, kissing Liam instead. Liam Henderson has smoothly morphed into my excruciating obsession. An obsession that had absolutely nothing to do with love or affection. That hatchet was buried a long time ago, no amount of persuasion would ever be enough to bring it back. There was, however, an issue I was struggling with. I was disgusted and ashamed to admit it to myself, but my body had a very strong, almost innate response to him. Could it be a sickly, over-boiled unresolved teenage lust for him that I repressed for so long? Was it a Stockholm syndrome? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t turn it off. It was wrong and dirty, made me feel like a dog in heat, surrendering to my most basic instincts. I couldn’t stop thinking about his muscular body, his big arms and full lips, his green eyes, his strong posture and his intoxicating body odor. You could call him a million nasty things, but the guy was fucking gorgeous. Disturbingly handsome. Objectifying people might’ve been wrong, but if there was ever a person more deserving of being objectified, it was him. He spent years treating people like shit, fucking girls left and right and leaving them heartbroken just because he lacked basic human decency and capacity to love. He wanted to own, to be on top and dominate, it was giving him the thrill and high that money simply couldn’t buy. He knew everybody wanted him, knew they’ll do anything for him.

Maybe it was time for him to get a taste his own fucking medicine.

Just one day prior to my birthday, I stayed late at school for an evening swimming practice. Jake, Elle and Pete were awfully quiet, running ‘errands’ all day, preparing whatever surprise they had in store for me for tomorrow. Mom was acting weird too, and I suspected she was in on their little scheme. Thankfully, Liam laid off me for a couple days, giving me a necessary break. By then, I managed to calm down and fully recharge, finding some ways to cope with my inappropriate emotions. One could say that the space he provided by stepping back, certainly helped.

My skin was cutting through the jets of water as I counted my laps. Throughout the last year I’ve certainly got better at swimming, it helped me get more lean and feel much better and lighter overall. I preferred to swim after hours, coach Jenkins was nice enough to trust me with the keys to the pool. Water helped me relax and unwind. The weightlessness and comfort it provided released all tension in my muscles and eased my mind from intrusive thoughts. The illumination was great, the pool was glistening in soft blue light, sending bright glares to bounce on the ceiling. The water was warm, echoing in splashes in the quiet emptiness of the room, soothing me.

When I resurfaced and swam towards the border, I suddenly froze in place. Liam Henderson was sitting on the bench, shrouded in darkness, staring at me. I didn’t know how and when he walked in. He was wearing his red shorts and a pair of white Nike sneakers, his dark blue shirt was soaking with sweat. Duffle bag was sitting on the floor beside him, he spread out his legs and leaned backwards, eyes fixed on me.

“Enjoying the show?” I asked.

“You have no idea...” he replied with a smirk, biting his lower lip.

I chuckled. What a fucking hypocrite. I decided that I won’t let Liam Henderson ruin my perfect evening and dove back into water, erasing him from my reality. He could watch me all he wanted, he could jerk off for all I cared. I’ll be strong enough to respond with serenity of an enlightened monk.

After completing a few more laps, I got out of the pool and grabbed a towel from my backpack. Liam was sitting on the opposite side of the bench, watching me.

“I can smell your stench from here.” I complained, taking off my swimming cap and goggles.

He stood up and slowly walked towards me.

“You can take a better whiff, if you’d like.” he offered, stopping a few feet away.

I chuckled, barely holding myself from laughing. Did he think it was sexy? Please.

“Yeah, right.” I said, bumping his shoulder on my way to the showers, “Better luck next time, fuck-boy.”

For a moment, I felt pretty good about myself. I got into a shower stall and stepped out of my swimming trunks. Hot streams of water hit my face and I felt radiant warmth spreading down my back. It felt nice. Tiny jolts of electricity tickled tips of my fingers and toes, I stretched under water, moaning in pleasure.

I don’t think it really bothered me, when he walked in. There was nobody else inside, just the foggy white tiles and moldy wooden planks. And us. I never pulled the blinds over my stall and he could see me standing there, completely naked.

I wiped my face and moved out of the way of the shower head. The boiling hot rain poured over my back, as I looked him in the eye.

“Dude, you’re pathetic…” I whispered, with a soft chuckle.

Liam let out a heavy breath. He was eating me with his dark green eyes, looking everywhere, unashamed and unwilling to restrain himself. I knew what game he was playing. He wanted to make me feel uncomfortable. In a situation like this, the old Dylan Moore would’ve spontaneously combusted and ran off in shame. Instead, the new Dylan turned around and kept on showering.

I heard his clothes dropping on the floor behind my back. A few quiet steps in my direction followed. Peppermint shampoo stung my eyes and I hurried to wash it away. It felt like the temperature of the water was rising, the air was getting more humid and harder to breathe, the clubs of steam were trailing on the floor. I didn’t want to turn around. I heard his breath, felt his eyes on me. I had no idea what he expected, but if he thought I’d be drooling over him like those silly girls, he should’ve thought again.

“You really are a creep, aren’t you, Lia-”

I swallowed half of my sentence and almost choked on my own spit, gulping down and immediately diverting my eyes. I don’t think anything ever managed to shut me down this quickly before. I felt my heart sinking to my feet, cheeks turning red, tiny hair at the back of my neck standing up in a primal, instinctive response. For a second, I just wanted to run away from him. The last thing I needed was for him to read me like an open book.

“You were saying?..” Liam whispered with a hoarse voice.

I felt my brows coming together in guilt. He was naked, standing right next to me. Shower droplets were hitting his muscular chest, dripping down his abs, bouncing off the mounds of hard, sharply defined cubes. A dark trail of trimmed pubic hair stubbled below his umbilicus, leading down to…

I looked away. It couldn’t be. It fucking couldn’t.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, cupping my cheek with his palm. “Dylan…”

He rubbed my wet lips with his thumb, forcing me to look down and swallow again. A few years ago, during the annual school trip to Washington, I overheard some girls chatting about him. They were sitting in front of me, I don’t think they could hear me, or maybe they just didn’t care… In the many hours of our ride, I felt uncomfortable on more than one occasion, namely when one of them blabbed about having sex with Liam a week before. She bragged about it, but what caught my memory was how she complained about his size and said she couldn’t handle him. ‘I’m never climbing that mountain again,’ she said. They couldn’t stop giggling for the rest of the trip.

I wasn’t blind, or deaf. Everyone in the school knew what Liam Henderson packed between his legs. It was fucking distasteful, but people still talked, so who cared? Not much else mattered in high school, apparently, especially a shitty high school like ours. Whispers and giggles aside, hearing about it was on one end of the spectrum, but seeing it with my own eyes proved to be something I was completely unprepared for.

To be honest, I simply couldn’t believe it. For a moment, it felt like an optical illusion. It was hanging down along the side of his left thigh, the length of my entire forearm, and thicker than my wrist.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Poor thing…” I exhaled compassionately and involuntarily.

It came out like a vomit, but it took him by surprise.

“Why?” he asked.

“Can you even fuck with this thing?” I asked.

“You’ll be surprised.”

My eyebrows had a mind of their own, I could only guess my own facial expression. For some reason, I genuinely felt sorry for him. It almost felt like a disability, in a way.

I was certainly taken aback by the sight, and Liam used my moment of confusion to his advantage, stepping inside the stall and joining me under hot streams of water. His hands landed on my waist and softly pushed me against the tiled wall. He leaned forward.

“You’re driving me fucking insane…” he whispered into my ear.

Our bellies touched, and I felt the column of his penis rolling against my groin. The bare skin-on-skin was definitely pushing it too far, and I wondered where he would actually draw the line. His fucking prank couldn’t last much longer, I grew so tired of it, that I simply couldn’t wait for a punchline.

So unless he actually planned on fucking me, I wasn’t going to stop him. In fact, I was about to make it even more unbearable.

I pressed my fingers on his abdomen and slid my palm across his wet abs. I looked him in the face and he feigned a thoroughly lust-filled gaze, devouring me with his eyes. He tried to kiss me, but I swiveled, massaging his torso and carefully studying his expression.

“What is it, big guy?” I spoke softly into his lips. “You wanna fuck me?”

He growled, took a firm grab of my ass and lifted me in the air, pinning me against the wall with the weight of his body. I gasped in shock. Motherfucker was showing some hardcore dedication, but I wasn’t made of dough and certainly wasn’t going to yield. I weaved my arms and legs around his back, he tried to kiss me again, but I didn’t let him. Instead, I felt his tongue on my neck, lips grazing clavicle and jaw, kissing my earlobe.

“What about Jess?..” I exhaled. “Don’t you feel bad, cheating on your girlfriend?”

“Fuck her…” he groaned, kissing the side of my neck.

What a fucking asshole, I thought. He lapped on my skin, licking dimple in the center of my neck, burying his face lower to suck on my sensitive nipples. I drew a sharp breath when he bit them with his teeth. His fingers kneaded my ass, crawling in the cleft between my cheeks and rubbing the sensitive rim of my hole. I gasped again, this was getting out of control. I was looking at our faint reflection on the opposite side of the wall, water hitting me in the face, burning my contacts and blurring vision. He was everything I imagined him to be and more, an ultimate wet fantasy, the very guy I lusted over for so many years…

Despite that, I never got hard. On the contrary, I felt fucking dirty. The confusion swirling in my head for so long had finally fizzled away. The fog cleared up.

Liam Henderson wasn’t sexy. He wasn’t really all that hot. I made him feel that way in my mind, but in crude reality, the only emotion he elicited in me, was nausea. No matter how hard he tried.

I think it was my laughter, that got him to stop. He probably thought that his lips were too ticklish, but it wasn’t really that. He stood me up on my feet, cupped my face and planted a forced kiss on my lips. A kiss I didn’t return. His dark green eyes were tearing up in what could only be described as a truly unbearable lust. When I looked at his massive erection, poking me in the belly button, I laughed even harder.

“Dylan?..” he asked in confusion.

It was just now that it started to get to me. The shocking truth, all-encompassing, absolutely inconceivable and almost poetic in its irony, has finally sunk in. The leaking, glistening head of his huge cock rubbed it in me, in a way.

He wasn’t pretending.

“Why are you laughing?” Liam asked, looking concerned. “What is it?..”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to answer. This was the exact opposite of anything I expected. On my list of the most probable explanations for his behavior, this was at the very bottom, buried underneath meticulously crafted murder plots. It was simply too good to be true.

But yet, it became clear as a day. I could finally see it in his eyes, his body language, even in his enormous erection, threatening to spear me through my belly.

“I need you to say it.” I uttered, smiling at his face.

Emboldened by the sudden rush of power I felt over him, I pressed him against the wall and grabbed his jaw with my hand.

“I need to hear it.” I repeated. “Say it.”

I encircled the shaft of his cock with my hand. His pulsating flesh burned my skin, fingers barely wrapped around two thirds of his girth, but it never stopped me from squeezing him. I never held somebody else’s penis in my hand, but I had to admit - it felt fucking exhilarating.

“Oohhh… Oohh…” he groaned, writhing like a snake.

“I need you to fucking say it, Liam…” I pressed on, stroking his throbbing meat.

“Dylan…” he gasped. “Dylan, please… Please…

My hand was sliding back and forth, feeling up the wooden crust hidden underneath the softness of his foreskin. His large, tortuous veins were bulging in between my fingers, precum smearing the side of my arm.

“Say it…” I insisted.

“I…” he moaned, suffocating at the precipice of orgasm. “I love you… I love you…

I let go of him and stepped back, jumping out of the shower stall. He was huffing and puffing, face red, eyes watery, raging erection throbbing with pent up, unreleased tension. He was confused. I could see he still didn’t fully understand what was happening. Poor fucking idiot.

“Dylan?”

“You know what’ll happen tomorrow?” I asked, with a beaming smile on my face. “I will get to fuck the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Not immediately, but his face turned pale.

“Shit, I can’t wait...” I moaned, biting my lip. “He’ll fuck me so hard... I can already tell, you have no fucking idea, Liam.”

His breathing got faster, I could see the turmoil on his face. It was only then, that I noticed a tattoo on the side of his groin. It was just a single letter. A capital “D”.

“Oh fuck…” I gasped comically, pointing at it. “Did you?.. Did you really?.. For me?..

He didn’t answer. I could see he barely held up tears.

“A fucking tattoo? As in, ‘D’ for Dylan?” I pushed on. “Jesus man, that’s intense!”

I just couldn’t stop myself from laughing. I also couldn’t stand to see his face anymore.

“I hope you’ll figure your shit out, you’ve turned into your most pathetic self, Liam,” I murmured, brushing him with a demeaning look, lingering on the shiny tattoo on his groin. “Would you look at that… Just as I thought you won’t stoop any lower.”

Hot tears fell off his eyelids as I turned around and left, leaving him to suffocate in the steamy bathroom.

Copyright © 2020 Avogadro1001; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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@Cane23 I have pondered when reading several of the prior chapters how "cleansing" it would be if Carrie made an appearance at Montgomery High School. She would soon sort Jessica out for starters; her "snatch" would be toast in no time. Elle would have a great laugh at that burning Fire Down Below

Speaking of Jessica's snatch (OMG what a repulsive thought),"Whatever the case was, they were constantly making out in public and I prayed they’d stumble across the kind enough soul to lead them in a direction of a sign up page for OnlyFans." brought to mind two wonderful lines from the lyrics of Vicki Waiting from the Batman album by the late, great Purple one,"Who asked her lover "Why is your organ so small?" He replied, "I did not know I was playing' in a cathedral". I suspect Jessica may be the San Fernando Valley and Mojave Desert combined, and from the following observation made later by Dylan, she would need to be,"To be honest, I simply couldn’t believe it. For a moment, it felt like an optical illusion. It was hanging down along the side of his left thigh, the length of my entire forearm, and thicker than my wrist.". I laughed so much I snorted @Avogadro1001 when Dylan remarked "For some reason, I genuinely felt sorry for him. It almost felt like a disability, in a way.". It appears Liam may be John Holmes, Jeff Stryker and Chad Douglas combined.  Quite possibly fascinating to look at in a WTF manner, but in reality what could most people do with it other than maybe pet it, kiss it and just hope that it does not hiss or spit at you, unless of course you are Jessica, the San Fernando snatch.

This chapter was "educational" too @Avogadro1001. I have been wracking my brain for the last several chapters at least trying to remember the condition where a captive or victim of abuse falls in love with their captor or abuser. Lo and behold you revealed it in this chapter, Stockholm syndrome. Shame on me that I could not remember this given my absolute adoration of ABBA.

And now for something shamefully pathetic. I found myself having some sympathy for Liam again. I truly believe he loves Dylan and is powerless to do so. I am still puzzled and revolted by the violence he has inflicted on Dylan, but feel absolutely no sympathy for trash like Jessica and Trish whom Liam has treated poorly. They are kindred spirits and have gotten no more or less than what they deserved.

And finally, a comment I have been meaning to make previously, but keep forgetting to do so. It is testament to the quality of your writing and the detailed character development and event description that I find I cannot afford to "skim" over even one sentence in this story. The story is so dense that one has to absorb every word for not to do so could result in missing a vital nuance which changes the very meaning of what has been stated.

Edited by Summerabbacat
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5 minutes ago, Summerabbacat said:

Speaking of Jessica's snatch (OMG what a repulsive thought)

You might stumble across her snatch in one of the later chapters @Summerabbacat, and rather intimately, if I dare to say so myself.

7 minutes ago, Summerabbacat said:

I laughed so much I snorted @Avogadro1001 when Dylan remarked "For some reason, I genuinely felt sorry for him. It almost felt like a disability, in a way."

Our dear boy, as a future doctor, is smart enough to know how dangerous a ruptured rectum could be.

8 minutes ago, Summerabbacat said:

Quite possibly fascinating to look at in a WTF manner, but in reality what could most people do with it other than maybe pet it, kiss it and just hope that it does not hiss or spit at you, unless of course you are Jessica, the San Fernando snatch.

Ahahahahaha

9 minutes ago, Summerabbacat said:

given my absolute adoration of ABBA.

ABBA is the GOAT, as kids say nowadays.

10 minutes ago, Summerabbacat said:

And now for something shamefully pathetic. I found myself having some sympathy for Liam again. I truly believe he loves Dylan and is powerless to do so. I am still puzzled and revolted by the violence he has inflicted on Dylan, but feel absolutely no sympathy for trash like Jessica and Trish whom Liam has treated poorly. They are kindred spirits and have gotten no more or less than what they deserved.

Oh, my dear friend… Please don’t feel ashamed. Guilty pleasures tend to be the sweetest, even if they leave us with a bitter aftertaste in the end.

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1 hour ago, Summerabbacat said:

And finally, a comment I have been meaning to make previously, but keep forgetting to do so. It is testament to the quality of your writing and the detailed character development and event description that I find I cannot afford to "skim" over even one sentence in this story. The story is so dense that one has to absorb every word for not to do so could result in missing a vital nuance which changes the very meaning of what has been stated.

🥹☺️ I appreciate your kind words! Truth be told, I’m not a writer by any stretch of imagination (I’m pretty sure everyone can easily tell haha), and this is very obviously the first story I am trying to give birth to. I feel like if I there is a gift (a talent? a consequence of countless hours of movies/books/TV shows consumed?) in me, it lies primarily in storytelling - that I’ve been good at since I was a kid. Even though writing is a polar opposite of my actual field of work/study, I realize how important it is to spend good time and make sure that whatever comes out in the end wouldn’t ruin the plot of the story. This is how low my bar is set at - I try to wtite it well enough for it not to distract the reader from the events taking place. Hence, I try to go over each chapter at least 4–5 times (with frequent iterations) before I actually release it. I feel like if I had been more experienced, there would’ve been more beautifully written “ water” in the body of the text, and it wouldn’t feel so dense (which I think would’ve been great).

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6 hours ago, Avogadro1001 said:

🥹☺️ I appreciate your kind words! Truth be told, I’m not a writer by any stretch of imagination (I’m pretty sure everyone can easily tell haha), and this is very obviously the first story I am trying to give birth to. I feel like if I there is a gift (a talent? a consequence of countless hours of movies/books/TV shows consumed?) in me, it lies primarily in storytelling - that I’ve been good at since I was a kid. Even though writing is a polar opposite of my actual field of work/study, I realize how important it is to spend good time and make sure that whatever comes out in the end wouldn’t ruin the plot of the story. This is how low my bar is set at - I try to wtite it well enough for it not to distract the reader from the events taking place. Hence, I try to go over each chapter at least 4–5 times (with frequent iterations) before I actually release it. I feel like if I had been more experienced, there would’ve been more beautifully written “ water” in the body of the text, and it wouldn’t feel so dense (which I think would’ve been great).

Dense is good @Avogadro1001, just like Emily Bronte's masterpiece Wuthering Heights, my favourite novel. 

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