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azoteas · 2 years

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How to write a character turning to the bad side

☑ think about all the feelings you would feel if you felt like your friends and family were wrong about everything and you felt you had to leave them: guilt, anger, sadness, etc.

☑ build a backstory explaining why they have changed and in what ways (how they think of different people and how they act).

☑ pick a flaw about them that they might want to change or might define who they are but can't: arrogance, obsession, hatred, hurt, selfishness, etc.

☑ make them a bit of a protagonist: they fight themselves on stuff, don't trust themselves, etc.

☑ keep the stakes high when the character turns evil, they tend to have lots of emotions and urges to do bad things, they're very confused and that forces them to lash out.

#creative writing #writers block #Writing tips #creative writing ideas #plot twist #plot summary #story plots #story plot #story plotting #story ideas #creative ideas #original idea #writing advice #writers advice #writing inspiration #story inspiration #creative writing inspiration #writing inspo #azoteas on: how to write

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #229

“You don’t want safe. You want fun and dangerous.”

#creative writing #story ideas #creative ideas #original idea #funny dialogue #random dialogue #dialogue snippet #writing dialogue #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #story prompts #prompts #dating prompts

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #228

“𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔... 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅, 𝒊’𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.”

#writing prompt #story prompts #funny dialogue #random dialogue #dialogue snippet #writing dialogue #dialogue prompt #otp dialogue #character dialogue #incorrect dialogue #storytelling #character development #writing challenge #original character

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #227

As you shut the dirty window that points towards a dark ally-way to no longer feel the cold chill of the dark night.

You slowly turn around to see a person tied to a chair, bound by the ankles and arms, watching them squirm to try and break free of their restraints.

“Trying to leave so soon?” You say “you only just got here after all” state with a dark tone

You see the fear in the persons eyes as they land on you “what the fuck is going on?!” They shout. “You don’t know?” You say with a smirk and a sarcastic ring to your voice.

“Well let me refresh your memory”

“I’m looking for our...little hero if you will, I need to find them and teach them a lesson, they fucked with the wrong person. I want to find them and you’re gonna help me with my little problem” you say while smirking

They look at you in shock, they see you’re not playing around but they’re loyal to their hero and refuse to tell you anything, this makes you snap.

Your fist connects with their face and you hear the split of their skin and the crack of bone. Before they can even talk you reach for the knife that’s on the table next to you and slam it into their thigh.

You feel the muscle wrap around the blade and smile, they scream in pain but it only surges you on. You tilt your head back in a bliss like state and close your eyes to really take it all in.

“You and your loyalty to your hero that doesn’t even come to your rescue, how pathetic” you say and laugh

This, this feeling of being completely in control is like a fire that burns in your stomach and it satisfies you, your hunger for pain and suffering.

You twist the knife that’s in their thigh, they scream out in agony, blood spills onto the floor and all over your hand. You look up to them and smile at the absolute terror on their face.

“Wanna answer me this time, friend” you say

But still they hold their tongue.

“fine we’ll do this the hard way”

you say to yourself and reach for the other blade that’s on the table next to you

“Let’s have some more fun then”

...hours later the guy in the chair is dead, covered in blood and so are you. Nothing but the ghost of his screams echo off the walls.

But you got the information you wanted. “They always crack eventually” you say to yourself.

You’ve officially become insane and insanity is just so freeing.

#creative writing #creative ideas #escritura creativa #creative writing prompt #creative writing ideas #hero x villain #villain x reader #villain x hero #villainess #heroine #antihero #storytelling #story ideas #plot twist #story plot

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #227

"Sometimes the world doesn't need a hero. Sometimes it needs a monster."

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #226

The cold metal circlets were smooth against my wrists. The air was icy against my cheek.

My eyes were closed.

No, not because I was scared—I just liked looking at darkness more than the pitiful cell with barely enough furniture other than a chair and a small bed in the corner that was extremely uncomfortable to sleep on.

A male voice interrupted my thoughts, "Hello, I'm Alec, the person who is going to question you today."

I paused for a moment, confused. I couldn't tell if I imagined the voice or if it were real. Judging by the fact that the voice seemed to come from in front of me, I decided it was real for once.

I opened my eyes slowly and raised my head slightly. I guessed that he was another one of those people who'll attempt to help me and eventually give up when all their efforts end up fruitless. This was what? The 6th? Every once in a while they would send a therapist or a detective to question me or try to help me. How many people would it take for them to give up?

My eyes followed his hand as he fiddled with the lock on the bars before opening it and stepping in. He turned around to latch the door shut with one calloused hand. His gaze was guarded and his posture stiff, as if still wary of me. I felt a hint of satisfaction at that and a manic grin fell onto my face as I continued watching him.

He pulled a chair in front of me and sat down carefully before saying, "I suppose you're aware of your charges."

"Oh? What exactly did I do?" I asked, widening my eyes innocently.

He shifted uncomfortably, "You know what you did."

I smirked at his reaction, my sharp eyes not missing the slight tremble in his tanned arms, "Hm, well I think I forgot?"

He sighed heavily before bringing out a booklet which I was sure contained a full background information check on me, "You are charged with assault, murder, attempted murder, robbery, and multiple other crimes."

My eyes lit up like a kid at a birthday party, "You mean those accidents?"

He stared at me silently as if in disbelief but I continued rambling:

"My hand slipped," I shrugged casually as if I wasn't talking about taking people's lives, "You know, it was for a good reason right? I would be totally down for accidentally doing those things again."

"So, you're saying that your hand accidentally slipped and killed 14 people including your ex and burned down a house," He said dryly.

"You're absolutely right," I giggled. My laugh sounded painfully insane even to me. That thought made me laugh even harder for some reason. Before long I was doubled over laughing.

"You done yet?" He glanced over at me with a look I was incredibly familiar with: Disgust. I couldn't blame him though, he just saw me laugh about killing people.

I ignored his question, "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm not crazy." I leaned forward, hushing my tone to a soft whisper as if I were sharing a secret with him. It had started with a pretty little secret disguised as a truth. It was only fitting for it to end with one. "I'm just you."

#storytelling #story ideas #story plot #scenarios #plot summary #plot twist #story plots #story planning #horror prompts #prompts #writing prompt #story prompts #creative writing prompt #story prompt #dialogue prompt

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #225

"You know," his jaw clicked, a tell of his hesitation, "in this lighting you look much more like a woman who could kill a man in a dozen ways with her bare hands."

You can't help the smile cutting through your lips, "rather than?"

"Rather than the sweet lady who gives men the time of their lives one night at a time." He digs in his wallet and hands you bills, which you grab and set on the bed.

"Trust me, darling," you straddle his lap and pull out his knife, the one you've had your eyes on since you met him, "I'm both."

You leave the room with a smile, a wad of cash, and a new knife.

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #224

"You know, I think, we could have been real lovers, my queen, Only had it been different conditions."

In front of the world, the King and the Queen were perfect. They were strong and fierce, had the best tactics. Little did anyone know what happened inside the four walls of the huge castle.

"You are delusional." That was the first thing that came to her mind, but what her heart said is a different story.

Even she knew the King wasn't lying. There were moments when she saw the real side of him.

He never showed his feelings but at times he couldn't suppress them. Like when she went out of her way to save him from a sneak attack. The surprise in his eyes was mixed with something different, something that felt like trust.

Or the day when they were in each other's arms, dancing as King and Queen, as man and wife, for the first time. The way he was holding her, gently, as if she was important to him. And as they swayed under the chandelier, looking in each other's eyes, she felt a sense of longing in his eyes. They danced like there was no past, no future, submerging in each other, losing their selves.

Only when the waltz came to an end were they snapped back to reality.

She cursed herself that day, loathing herself for feeling affection towards the man who made her people suffer. She stayed up the whole night recalling all the dreadful memories of seeing the people of her kingdom being slaughtered mercilessly, of her being locked up in a dungeon, and of her dearest little sister in pain.

He could have prevented that from happening. Every single day she kept on resenting him. She wanted nothing more than a painful death for him.

"Do I disgust you that much? Couldn't you, even for a second, imagine us being in love?" He had a pleading look in his eyes. He knew what he did was terrible, but he did everything just to protect her.

He could slay a thousand lives for her. He couldn't tell her that though. Maybe if he did, he could have made things simpler, he could have made her love him just as much, but he was a man of his word.

Her stony eyes gave him the reply he didn't want to hear.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes were glassy. Never in a million years did she think a man like "His Highness" could feel sorrow, and that too for her?

While she was still contemplating her next move, he swiftly pushed her away and pulled out his dagger. She got back in her fighting stance. She felt stupid to even consider that he felt something for her.

"It's not for you my Queen. Do you really think I'll hurt you? I've loved you from the moment I saw you. You're the only person I've ever loved. I'll keep on loving you till the end of time. I did what I did because I had to, not because I wanted to. Please forgive me, my Queen," He plunged the sword straight to his heart.

He gave her a last smile before he dropped to the floor.

#creative writing #creative ideas #escritura creativa #creative writing prompt #creative writing ideas #royalcore #royal aesthetic #royal prompt #story ideas #writing ideas #original idea #interesting ideas #plot twist #plot summary #story plots #story plot #story plotting #writing inspiration #story inspiration

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #223

"You think it's that easy to kill me? You need to put in some more effort than that, honey." The king said, pulling out the dagger from his shoulder. Even after the gruesome fight and all those cuts, he still had his cocky grin on.

Her hatred for him knew no bounds. She was going to end it tonight. It didn't matter even if she didn't make it to the next morning.

She returned his grin with a sinister smile and dropped her weapons. Not once did they look away from each other's eyes. She walked up to him terrifyingly. She walked with confidence, slow and steady as she knew that she was gonna get out of there without a scratch.

She snaked her one arm around his neck and the other on his waist and embraced him. "I want to savor your last breaths," She said in barely a whisper in his ear. "Your agony screams are a melody for my ears darling."

#creative writing #creative ideas #escritura creativa #creative writing prompt #creative writing ideas #enemies au #enemies-inspo #enemies inspo #enemies prompts #mortal enemies #story ideas

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #222

She smiled when she noticed her target kept on glancing her way. She shifted her chair so her skirt would inch up higher to her thigh, exposing her bare pale skin. Her target excused himself from his group and made his way to her. "Predicable" she muffled under her breath.

"What a lovely sight you are" he said as he approached her. She smiled as she tucked her dark auburn hair behind her ear. "Really? you wouldn't mind if I was the last sight you'll see tonight right?" He laughed " No. No I wouldn't. I'd be pleased" a smile played on his lips "Would you like to dance?"

He held his hand out and she took it. The crowd was huge and the party consisted of the elites therefore the security was tight. It would be a hard mission, she thought but she trusted her gut, one which she trusted for the past 10 years as she did her job being a professional hitman.

He led her to the dance floor, all eyes were on her. She was a beauty. He held his body close to her. As the song changed to a seductive tune, she offered him a sultry look and began grinding her body on him.

Lust was apparent in his eyes. She was like a serpent, dangerous but angelic at the same time. She tilted her head to him and he kissed her. The kiss was intense. It sent him over the edge and he wondered how can a kiss be that tantalizing. She bit his lip as she withdrew from him and she disappeared into the crowd as he was left dumbstruck.

She immediately went to the bathroom and quickly drank the antidote that was kept strapped around her thigh. She should drink it within minutes after the poisoned pill she bit from the insides of her cheeks was released. She made sure that her target's mouth was soaked from the poison.

As she exited the bathroom, a shriek was heard from the ballroom.

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azoteas · 3 years

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Nemesis’ POV.

I watch her from the shadows of the archway. Her movements are delicate, refined. A princess who was brought up in the comfort of luxury. She sweeps in and out of the crowd, their forms melding reds and golds along a pristine white floor. I don my black mask, lined with silver, and tread down the steps.

Surveying the vicinity, I spot her form, bedecked in the very same red as everyone else. Her long hair is nestled atop her head in an intricate braid, the edge of her dress rising a few inches off the ground as she spins. Who does she think she is?

The music quiets, leaving only the din of chatter and applause. Before the next piece can begin, I saunter over. I give my best smile, and hold out my hand, "Your Highness! I'd be honored if I could have the next dance."

She turns to me, and I can tell by her posture she's surprised to be so approached. The man who was her partner leers at me, "I asked her for--"

"No, it's alright," she replies, holding up a hand. "I'd be pleased to dance with you."

Once he leaves, I smile down at her. She returns it, a polite, frail thing that barely tilts the corners of her lips. Bowing to one another, she takes my hand, fingers twining over mine. A melody starts, almost lilting, as she takes measured steps. I hold her lightly, enough to be distant, enough to be secure.

"What kingdom are you from?" she asks, making conversation.

"One that's far from here, by the sea," I lie, easy.

"The sea? Really?" she asks, surprised. "It's not a simple journey to travel from there."

I give her a small laugh, "It was worth the trip to come to such a marvelous kingdom."

"You're too kind," she tells me. "I am glad to see that what my family has done has been for the good of everyone!"

Her response makes my heart lurch. Is she naïve, or cruel? The red swirling around the room tints my periphery, as red as the stains in the city's streets. I fight back a grimace, "Your subjects are content?"

"I would hope so," she says. "A kingdom's only as prosperous as its people."

Flashes of red cross my vision--

"I shall be queen one day soon," she says to me, a feathery whisper. "I want to do what's right."

My hand tightens at her waist, on her hand. I lean forward, my lips at the shell of her ear, "Do you?"

"Yes?" she says, her breath warm on my neck, unsure of what I'm saying, I know. She doesn't know who I am. No one does.

I am every faceless civilian who has been neglected by their leaders. I am every faceless father called to die by a king who sits above strife. I am every faceless mother whose anguished screams pierce the skies for her loved ones. I am every faceless child who is told their country will defend them, only to be needlessly killed to uphold the status quo.

I hear these lavish parties from the streets, as I listen to another neighbor tell me of someone's passing. I watch these lazy, contented beasts gorge themselves as my stomach twists with hunger.

With this mask, there is no difference between these people and I. A reminder that we are all equal under the stars and their unyielding silence: no one is above them. Yet we continue to believe that some humans should lord over others.

I lean back from her, staring at eyes shadowed by the mask, but I know their color. I've seen her before.

"I'm sorry... but..." she says, voice even quieter. "Do I know you?"

Who does she think she is?

The music swells to a powerful crescendo, "No, Your Highness. You do not."

As it ends, I bid her a gentle goodbye, my mouth tasting of iron, and melt into a crowd where I am no different from them. I dart past guards towards the highest floor, continuing my mission, and find who I'm looking for. My thumb brushes over the pommel of my knife, familiar and heavy.

She will be queen sooner than she thinks.

Close [snippet]

People say he’s a divine dancer. You don’t know what that means. But they say it about you, too, so it must not mean much at all.

That’s what you think, at least, until your hand slides into his, and he leans in with the fingertips of his other hand gliding along your back. That’s when you know. This is dancing. And this is what it means to be divine.

The torch flames flicker in their metal sconces as everyone else around you stops to watch. And you almost wish you could, too - that you could stand by with your hands clasped in wonderment like them, staring and staring and staring as he leads you in sweeping arcs across the ballroom floor.

You take the lead at times too, because if two gods meet in the middle of a battlefield, how can they not fight? but somehow it only makes it more enchanting, more ethereal, more everything, and the waltz is smoother than melting ice slipping along marble.

Your cream-colored dress that you chose for its plainness is suddenly a bright beacon, flaring and billowing with each turn. Sometimes it blocks your vision of the gawking crowd, and for fleeting seconds, you can almost believe that you’re alone with him, that there’s no one else in the world.

All you would have to do is close your eyes, and that could be real.

But you don’t want to close them. You want to see. You want to see everything, every part of this divinity that you create with this man in the mask. You want the divine. You are the divine.

You want this dance, again and again, and you wouldn’t close your eyes to it for the world.

When the music builds to the crescendo and nears its end, you know it’s time to cut the enchantment with one vicious stroke. You can’t afford to be kind to yourself. You can’t afford to revel in the divine anymore.

So you tug your hand away, ready to end it, cleanly, savagely. And you finish it with a flourish, pulling away in theatrical fashion - only for him to tug you back before you can escape. He drops you into a heart-stopping dip, catching you with an arm around your waist and his fingers laced so tightly with yours that you think you can feel the vibrations of the musicians’ strings strumming through his skin to yours.

You can’t breathe. He’s so close he could kiss you. He’s so close you could kiss him.

But that’s not the way this goes. You slide out of his grasp to the applause of the crowd and find your footing, elegant as ever. No one notices how you pushed him away.

For what it’s worth, it’s true what they say; he’s a divine dancer. But there’s something about him that reminds you of knives and poison-tipped arrows, of whispered treason in the night. Your instincts have never led you astray; you should trust them.

So you slip out to the balcony where no one will be watching you, and you test the slim, hidden hilt concealed by your thigh. It’s still there. Good. And your white swan feather mask? It’s stifling. You rip it off your face and clutch it in your hand.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t know,” says a masculine voice behind you. “While we were dancing.”

You whirl around, eyes narrowed. It’s him. The dancer. And now that he speaks, now that you hear his voice - suddenly, every second of the waltz haunts you all at once.

“But it’s too late,” he continues. “Now I have to wonder what it’s like to dance with you, instead of trying to kill you every time we meet in the darkness.”

You don’t smile. “You should leave,” you say. “I’d rather not make a scene, but they’ll forgive me quickly enough even if I spill your blood from one end of the hall to the other.”

“I’m sure they will. You’re most beloved to them, since they think you’re but a sophisticated lady who spends all her time embroidering and improving her penmanship. But we know the truth.” He cocks his head. “The scars you’ve left on me ache every night.”

“I only regret that you’re alive to feel it.” Your fingers stroke the hilt of your short blade. “If you won’t take the warning, then come closer. I can rectify that tonight.”

He watches you for a long moment, and unbidden, the memory of his fingers sliding between yours and his hand pressed to your back rises inside you like a heavy shadow. You will it away. Some of it. A little of it.

“I should have kissed you when I had the chance,” he says, then disappears.

#azoteas: snippets

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azoteas · 3 years

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Close [snippet]

People say he's a divine dancer. You don't know what that means. But they say it about you, too, so it must not mean much at all.

That's what you think, at least, until your hand slides into his, and he leans in with the fingertips of his other hand gliding along your back. That's when you know. This is dancing. And this is what it means to be divine.

The torch flames flicker in their metal sconces as everyone else around you stops to watch. And you almost wish you could, too - that you could stand by with your hands clasped in wonderment like them, staring and staring and staring as he leads you in sweeping arcs across the ballroom floor.

You take the lead at times too, because if two gods meet in the middle of a battlefield, how can they not fight? but somehow it only makes it more enchanting, more ethereal, more everything, and the waltz is smoother than melting ice slipping along marble.

Your cream-colored dress that you chose for its plainness is suddenly a bright beacon, flaring and billowing with each turn. Sometimes it blocks your vision of the gawking crowd, and for fleeting seconds, you can almost believe that you're alone with him, that there's no one else in the world.

All you would have to do is close your eyes, and that could be real.

But you don't want to close them. You want to see. You want to see everything, every part of this divinity that you create with this man in the mask. You want the divine. You are the divine.

You want this dance, again and again, and you wouldn't close your eyes to it for the world.

When the music builds to the crescendo and nears its end, you know it's time to cut the enchantment with one vicious stroke. You can't afford to be kind to yourself. You can't afford to revel in the divine anymore.

So you tug your hand away, ready to end it, cleanly, savagely. And you finish it with a flourish, pulling away in theatrical fashion - only for him to tug you back before you can escape. He drops you into a heart-stopping dip, catching you with an arm around your waist and his fingers laced so tightly with yours that you think you can feel the vibrations of the musicians' strings strumming through his skin to yours.

You can't breathe. He's so close he could kiss you. He's so close you could kiss him.

But that's not the way this goes. You slide out of his grasp to the applause of the crowd and find your footing, elegant as ever. No one notices how you pushed him away.

For what it's worth, it's true what they say; he's a divine dancer. But there's something about him that reminds you of knives and poison-tipped arrows, of whispered treason in the night. Your instincts have never led you astray; you should trust them.

So you slip out to the balcony where no one will be watching you, and you test the slim, hidden hilt concealed by your thigh. It's still there. Good. And your white swan feather mask? It's stifling. You rip it off your face and clutch it in your hand.

"It's a good thing we didn't know," says a masculine voice behind you. "While we were dancing."

You whirl around, eyes narrowed. It's him. The dancer. And now that he speaks, now that you hear his voice - suddenly, every second of the waltz haunts you all at once.

"But it's too late," he continues. "Now I have to wonder what it's like to dance with you, instead of trying to kill you every time we meet in the darkness."

You don't smile. "You should leave," you say. "I'd rather not make a scene, but they'll forgive me quickly enough even if I spill your blood from one end of the hall to the other."

"I'm sure they will. You're most beloved to them, since they think you're but a sophisticated lady who spends all her time embroidering and improving her penmanship. But we know the truth." He cocks his head. "The scars you've left on me ache every night."

"I only regret that you're alive to feel it." Your fingers stroke the hilt of your short blade. "If you won't take the warning, then come closer. I can rectify that tonight."

He watches you for a long moment, and unbidden, the memory of his fingers sliding between yours and his hand pressed to your back rises inside you like a heavy shadow. You will it away. Some of it. A little of it.

"I should have kissed you when I had the chance," he says, then disappears.

#not a prompt #story snippet #azoteas: snippets

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #221

“Care to explain what happened?”

"Well, the stripper had a knife."

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #220

"Are you going to kill me?" the boy said, quivering under her. Naked.

"No honey. I kill men, I play with boys" She said as she kissed him.

#femme fatale prompts #creative writing #creative ideas #escritura creativa #creative writing prompt #creative writing ideas #funny dialogue #random dialogue #dialogue snippet #writing dialogue #dialogue prompt #dialogue inspiration #otp dialogue #whump ideas #whump prompt #whump writing #whump tropes #story ideas #story plot

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #219

No one is dancing, their faces are tattooed with expressions of cold dread as their eyes casually scan the person walking through the middle.

Even the highest of prestige refuse to mutter under their breath as you walk through. You’re walking up to a throne where the king, who was once your one and only love, now lays breathless.

Your shoes are tapping along the marbled stairs as you push him off his throne, watching his dead body roll away as you sit down casually and look over to a platter with two cups of red wine on it.

Carefully, you turn the platter and drink from the other cup and then smirk, “I guess he was never good at picking the right one, was he?”

#femme fatale prompts #writing prompt #story prompts #creative writing prompt #creative writing #creative ideas #escritura creativa #creative writing ideas #true crime #enemies-inspo #enemies au #whump ideas #whump prompt #whump writing #whump tropes #whump scenario

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #218

The hero feeling oh so lucky and confident, tracks down the hated villain to a place so secluded that not anyone could save him.

On arrival, the hero kicks down the door imagining to see the villain sitting there unprepared, but he steps into the dark small room realizing no one is there. The door behind him slams shut and locks automatically.

To his horror, the hero realizes he is trapped; gasoline falls from the ceiling coating the room, creating a two-inch puddle of pure flammable gasoline. The villain appears above him on a catwalk

"You should have just given up but here you are, you know the world will miss you but it’s too late now you did this to yourself."

And with a smirk, the villain flicks the cigar he was smoking into the pool of gasoline, igniting the room as the hero screams in terror and begs for mercy. The villain just laughs and walks off, closing the door behind him, lights shutting off behind him.

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azoteas · 3 years

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Prompt #217

A hero will choose the world over you, a villain would kill the world for you.

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