Second Check In Post!!!
This is the second check in post!!! Much like the first all you have to do is post a comment with the form. It's not mandatory but you should remember that rough drafts are due soon. You do need 7000 words in less than a month! So if you need some encouragement or motivation or just want to talk about it this is the place to do it. Don't worry if
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Title: Alt 8/Before Oliver/Morning After
Genre: Rom/Com
Brief summary: I tend to work on two stories at the same time. The first story is the main focus of my attention. The second story is usually a throw away that I work on when I get stuck on the primary story. Confusing? Maybe. It's my process. It makes sense to me. Morning After is the first story I started on with the 12K word count. I wanted to write something fun within the structure of the S9 framework. I still like it, but it is coming along slowly. Alt 8 was supposed to be an unsticking story going off the rescue from Black Creek with Oliver and Chloe teaming up to hunt down Lex behind Clark's back. Unfortunately, the characters just refuse to do anything but sell their fake relationship and flirt with each other (damn them!). They haven't gotten around to looking for Lex or figuring out that they are not on the same page about what to do about Lex when they find him. Before Oliver was meant to be angsty and full of conflict (thus, forcing me to write what wasn't coming in Alt 8) and really, really goes off script with an accidental marriage storyline that occurs before Oliver is shipwrecked. Alt 8 and Before Oliver are in the 15K word count territory, but problematic because of the timeline.
Something you're having trouble with: Deciding which story to focus on
An excerpt of your story (sentence or paragraph is fine): Morning After
“What we really need around here is another desk. For guests. Or for emergencies,” Oliver said, and he only sounded a little testosterone addled.
Chloe’s nose scrunched up. “There’s something stuck to my back.”
Oliver checked. “Post it note,” he announced with manic cheer. He read the note, frowning. “It’s a bunch of numbers and dates,” he said.
Chloe snatched it out of his hand. “It’s . . .” she waved the note impatiently. “It’s . . .”
He just shook his head at her flailing. “It’s one of your top secret projects,” he guessed. “You’d tell me, but you’d have to kill me, or have me kidnapped and stuffed in a pine box-oh wait,” he snapped his fingers and pointed to her. “We’ve done that one.”
Her post coital glow was red-faced and sweaty, and ridiculously appealing.
She frowned at him. “You are never going to let it go, are you?” she complained.
“If I kidnapped you and stuffed you in a pine box, would you let it go?” he countered.
She made a face and tilted her head. “Been there, done that,” she admitted. “Wow. You really are bucking for sainthood with the Zen-like calm and forbearance,” she marveled as he handed her the cardigan that she had been wearing earlier. “Panties?” she asked hopefully.
He held up a plain white cotton pair. “Let me guess. Because white cotton and blue jeans are a classic.”
Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Great minds, huh?”
She snatched her underwear out of his hand and shooed him off. “Go to the kitchen and get paper towels. This is going to be messy,” she predicted with dour humor.
He brought the whole roll of paper towels back and the carton of spring rolls. “Ollie? Don’t eat all the spring rolls,” she warned as she tore off a couple of sheets like she was getting ready to mop up a major spill.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s barely two tablespoons of-“ he caught her horrified look, and rolled his eyes, “What?”
“Don’t call it something gross.”
“Seminal fluid?”
She made a face.
“Starts with ‘s’ and rhymes with junk?”
She shook her head. “Ew! No. I don’t like that one either.”
He took another bite out of a spring roll. “Interesting,” he said as she finished cleaning herself and the desk off before slipping back into her panties. “You don’t fuck like a prissy girl.” His eyes widened at her expression. “What?” he teased.
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