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multiversstuff · 1 year

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Chapter One - Death Version One

A/N - I finished the chapter sooner than expected! For the concept of where the chapter takes place; click me!

Warnings — 18+! Violence, kidnapping, blood, weapons

WC: 1315

Death. You get taught that everyone experiences it at one point in their life; whether it’s someone they know or witnessing a death.

But what no one tells you, is that you can experience more than one type of death – there’s the normal type that everyone knows, then there’s the type where you, yourself, die; spiritually, mentally and physically.

No one taught me that. But I know it, because I’ve experienced each and every one.

My name’s Danielle, and this is my story on how I died, again, and again; and how I survived to tell the tale.

It was supposed to be a normal day – wake up, go to work, go home, and do whatever. So, what happened? How did I end up in a warehouse tied to a chair across…eleven?…eleven people with bags over their heads. I’m assuming that, just like me, they’re all gagged because a few of them are awake and screaming; at least, they’re trying to. It kind of sounds like they’re screaming into pillows.

The only light I can see is from the lightbulb dangling above me; from that light, I can see the eleven others in a similar situation as myself – tied to their chairs by the hands, behind their back, and their feet, against the two front legs of the chair. Looking around, I can see a white-ish counter covered in rust, the light isn’t bright enough for me to be sure; but it’s to my left. There’s what I’m going to assume to be, a counter to the right of me, and right next to the counter (on my left) is a sink, and another, longer, counter. The eleven are seated in a way where I can see each and every one clearly; one slightly to my left and one slightly to my right. I may not be able to see their faces, but judging by what they’re wearing and by general, and obvious, anatomy; I can see that there are five women and six men.

I’m crying – I don’t know when I started crying, but I am. Noticing the tears got me out of my head, which made me realize that I’m also hyperventilating.

I need to calm down…this isn’t helping anything, and it certainly won’t help when, whoever brought us here, comes back. Trying to put my head between my legs to help my breathing…my restraints are too tight so, I lean my head back slightly and look at the dim light; focusing on my breathing.

Inhale for three seconds…hold for four…exhale for five. I repeat that breathing sequence until the tears stop flowing.

After I get the tears to stop, I go back to looking forward; at the woman who’s sitting right in front of me. Almost immediately after, I hear what sounds like a door opening behind me, to my right. I whip my head towards the sound and, sure enough, a door is wide open letting a room-full of light pour into the room I’m in. There are two men – one holding the door open and one in the doorway. My eyes follow them as they make their way towards me.

One stops behind me, the other places both of his feet in front of me. I can’t make out what he looks like; my eyes trying to adjust to the change of brightness.

Keeping my eyes forward, the man in front of me bends down by the waist to make eye contact. I can now see his facial features.

Short, close to a buzz cut, sandy blonde hair.

He’s white with a slight, but very noticeable, orange tint to his skin. A tan gone wrong.

Thin lips.

His eyes are light blue…but with the way he was looking at me made them look as dark as the sky when the sun is in its last stage of setting.

He’s tall. I don’t know how tall, but enough to have to bend his knees slightly when he lowers down by the waist.

I keep my breathing calm.

“Hi, Dani,” he speaks in a low voice, “remember me?” I don’t recognize him in the slightest, so I shake my head. “Take a moment,” he cocks his head to my left, “think about it; rack your brain, we just met a few hours ago.” A few hours ago I was at work…getting the mail…I said hello to a man coming out of the stairwell before turning to the elevators – immediately before someone hit me over the head…THE MAN! He’s the man!

My face had to show that I remembered because the next thing he said, before standing straight up, was “there it is. You remember.” Now that he’s fully standing, I can see that he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt, with dark blue jeans and tennis shoes; white tennis shoes.

I tried to say “what do you want?” But what came out was “mmm…mmm…” The man takes out my gag and I take in a large breath.

“What was that?” He said in an annoyed tone.

“I said,” inhale, “what. Do. You. Want?” Exhale.

The man sighs exaggeratingly and starts walking towards the woman who’s sat in front of me. He doesn’t stop in front of her; he stops behind her, grasping onto the bag he says “I want what you know.” My eyebrows knit in confusion. “And you’re going to give it to me…every little piece of information you have, you will bestow to me.” I’m even more confused now, but before I get the chance to say anything, he rips the bag off of the woman’s head and now I can see her face.

She’s not just any woman…she’s my mom. My wonderful mom who has helped me work my way out of my own personal hell. Who helped me recover from the worst moment of my life. The woman who’s had to deal with my attitude, ungratefulness, and my short-temper. My mom who’s supposed to be in Arkansas.

I have so many questions; why is she here? Who are these guys? What information could I have that they would want?

The man pulls out a knife and puts it to her throat. The other man, who hasn’t left his spot behind me, puts a ripped piece of duct tape over my mouth and grabs ahold of my head to make sure I don’t look away. At least that’s what I’m assuming; after watching so many true crime shows, movies and documentaries, I’m going to stick to my assumption.

I, finally, begin to struggle against the restraints and, now, the other mans hands. No screaming comes from me, but muffled words do; trying to get one of the men to take the duct tape off so I can, at the very least, get a question out. All I want is to know what he thinks I know so I can convince him that I don’t know anything and they can let us go…or take the knife off of my mom’s throat, at least.

But it doesn’t work. Neither one of them move and I’m stuck looking at my mom’s tear-stained face, gagged, and a knife to her throat. I increase the volume of my muffled words when he doesn’t make a move or a sound.

That doesn’t help either; in fact, it made things worse. He moved slightly back, grabs a hold of her hair and moves the knife to his left.

My muffled begging increases in volume. No…this can’t happen.

Mom’s eyes widen. The knife starts to move. Blood starts to pour. My begging turns to screaming.

I was right. The other man is holding my head to make sure I can’t look away. They want to make sure that I watch as this man, the man I have only seen once, slice my mom’s throat; taking a part of my heart, my soul, and my life away from me.

#writing #projects #fanfic #chapter 1

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multiversstuff · 1 year

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Chapter One of my upcoming project is in the works…should have it out by no later than the end of the day tomorrow

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multiversstuff · 1 year

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“Let’s get started” (upcoming project teaser)

So…I’ve been working on a really big project that’s been a goal of mine for YEARS and well, here’s a teaser for the first part of the project. Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3. Not beta’d; all mistakes are mine.

WARNINGS; 18+ ONLY!!!! Mentions of blood, language (i think?)

WC: 616

Three walls. The wallpaper looks to be from the early 1900s, maybe older. Although, there’s no way to be sure; it’s rotting away. Little flowers appear to be on the wallpaper…dandelions, possibly. It seems to be peeling, almost melting off with each tick of the clock that’s hanging to the right of the doorway.

The doorway. That damned doorway holds a dark mahogany door. Shut and locked at all times. Except when he’s ready to…it’s not like clockwork. It’s always random. And that makes the ticking worse.

The clock. A circle with a white background, black Roman numerals, and a black border that protrudes out just the slightest bit. Brand new in the rotting room and right there with its loud ticking. The ticking is maddening. Never knowing when he’ll come and watching how long he stays until he leaves…knowing that leaving just may not happen, even if he does get what he wants. It doesn’t help that he intentionally put his tools right beneath the clock…he’s despicable.

The tools…as clean as he wanted them to be; which isn’t very, they have a tiny bit of rust on them, it’s nearly imperceptible. They’re laying on a thin cloth on top of a table, which looks to be a coffee table. It’s funny. The room isn’t a living room…at least it wouldn’t be constituted as one, it’s more like a bedroom. Thinking of him having a coffee table on hand is almost laughable. If only it wasn’t holding both unused tools he has yet to utilize, but also the tools he has been using each time he comes in; various sizes of scalpels, knifes, tweezer like things, needles, and so much more…so many tools – all covered in blood. He’s going to die soon enough…that thought alone has kept me surviving.

Chains. The things the keep every part of me accessible to him. Two chains, one for each of my arms, connected to the ceiling to keep me suspended. The ceiling was already breaking down as it was before the combined weight of the chains and my limp body; it can only hold for so long before it crumbles and crushes me. Two chains, one for each of my legs, connected to the floor in order to avoid my fighting back. I lost feeling in my limbs a long time ago…that’s not necessarily true, I can still feel the pain he inflicts onto me; but I just know I wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone kick.

The longest he’s been gone was for twenty-seven hours, forty-seven minutes and five seconds, while the shortest was four minutes and sixteen seconds. It’s been twenty hours and seven…teen minutes since he left. He’s due to be here anytime.

The longest he’s been in here, before losing his patience, was exactly ten hours and four minutes. Fourteen hours, thirty-six minutes and fourteen seconds was the longest he stayed after losing his patience. I have begged myself to just pass out, but apparently, living a life in constant pain can help build a tolerance…who knew?

He has his little minions bring me water, feed me and tend to the wounds he inflicts just so I don’t die. Because God forbid that the one person who has information he wants, dies.

My head snaps to the door upon hearing the knob and hinges squeak, finding the door already open with him standing there in the darkness, silent and staring at me…those eyes are so bright and yet so full of darkness, there isn’t a shred of light within.

*Tick*

He closes the door without breaking eye contact. I slightly rotate my hands to grasp the chains.

*Tick*

“Let’s get started, Y/N.”

———————————————————————————————————

Please let me know what you think, any ideas, any mistakes…anything’s welcomed 🥰 Have a beautiful weekend!

#fanfic teaser #fanfic project #i hope you like this #sending love ❤️

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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I’m going through my requests & masterlist to keep up on my new schedule I set for myself and I’ve never realized how difficult it is to actually start the smut part of stories. I’ve always had a lot of respect for writers, but now, it’s increased sky high for the smuts that they write. I bow down to all you beautiful writers😭❤️

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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you write headcanons?😋

I sure can! 🤗

#answered #requests

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Hey I was wondering if you had any Sara Lance X reader fics up?

Hiya! Not quite yet, but I am working on it :)

#answered #requests

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Hey same girl again about that lee prompt with black y/n. You don’t have to worry about putting in anything racism or something. Just that when she goes to sleep she has a bonnet on. She puts lotion all over her body after she takes a shower. She can braid hair. Please don’t describe her skin tone or any of her features with food (ex: her chocolate skin) . Her kids are biracial . She uses a washcloth when in the shower. And she uses seasoning beyond salt and pepper in her food like paprika.

A/N - I’m SO SO sorry this took forever! I went through a terrible writers block & had a health crisis so that was fun lmaooo. This is my first, but I hope this is at least somewhat what you were hoping for. Notes are welcome! I hope you enjoy this❤️

WC - 2553

Yandere!Lee Bodecker x Black!Reader

Warnings—smut (first time writing smut, please be nice), language maybe

6:30 AM

“Mommy!” Kendra, my 6 year-old, comes running into the kitchen, where I’m putting together her and her brothers’ lunches.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I can’t find my shoes!” I tape down the opening of the paper bag and turn to face her.

Ray, my 11 year-old son, and Johnny, my 8 year-old, are sitting at the table eating their breakfast and Kendra is standing behind them in the archway with a sandal in her left hand and a ballet flat in her right. “You have shoes in your hands dummy.” Johnny speaks up before I could respond.

“J, don’t antagonize your sister.” I walk to her and bend down to her level. “Key, what shoes can you not find?”

“The pink ones!” That’s not a lot of help; she has multiple pink shoes.

“Which ones?”

She throws down the shoes in her hands, stomps her foot and screams; “The pink ones! My favorites!”

“Don’t you yell at me, I’m just trying to help. You have a lot of pink shoes and your favorite changes.” She looks down with her lip trembling, like she’s about to cry, when Lee walks in dressed in his work uniform.

Once he notices his little girl is about to cry, he squats down to her height, “what’s wrong, sugar bear?”

Kendra looks up to her dad and throws her tiny arms around his shoulders. “I can’t find my pink shoes and mommy’s not helping me!” That little—I love my daughter, I do; but, I’m always the bad guy, no matter what I say or do, I’m the bad guy while Lee is her hero. Ever since she was born, Kendra’s had an attachment to Lee. I went through 16 hours of excruciating pain just to get her into this world and yet the moment Lee holds her in his arms, it’s like I didn’t exist; except for food, clothes, and bathing. Straightening back up, I look down at the scene unfolding in front of me.

Lee holds his little girl. “Oh princess, your pink boots are by the door.” He lets her go, cups her small head into his large hands; “why don’t you go put them on, get your stuff and I’ll take you to school?” She jumps and squeals with joy and runs off to her room; Lee stands up to his full height and looks at me with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I turn around to get the kids’ lunches and put them in front of the boys. “Okay boys, here are your lunches; now, go get your stuff.” I turn to look at Lee, who still has a smirk on his face, with my own little smirk. “Your dad’s taking you school.” And just like that, his stupid smirk is gone. The boys grab their lunch and go off to get their stuff, while I take their dirty dishes.

Putting the dishes in the sink and preparing to wash them, I feel Lee’s presence behind my back. “I thought you were taking the boys to school.” He whispered.

I whispered right back to him; “Yeah, well, it would be unfair to them if their dad took their baby sister and not them.”

“I don’t have time—“

“Well you’re lucky you’re the boss.”

“Y/N…”

At that, I stop the water and turn more towards him. “If it’s that big of a deal, then you shoulda thought ‘bout that before offering Kendra to take her in front of them.” I look at the clock just behind his shoulder. “If you leave now, you might just make it in time.” At that, I turn back to the sink.

Lee sighs, “You’re lucky I love you.” ‘Yeah, lucky me.’ He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. After a few moments of him just watching me wash the dishes, the kids come out and Key yells that they’re ready for school. Lee turns to them and throws Ray his car keys; “Go get in the car, Ray, start the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I turn my head to face them and give them a smile. “Have a good day at school, little ones. I love you!”

Ray and Johnny both yell they love me too and, surprise, surprise, Key just went to the car. Sighing, I turn back to the sink. “Baby, don’t be like that.” I, slightly, roll my eyes in response. “Ok. I have to go.” He kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” And he was off.

1:00 PM

Stepping out of the car with the bag of Lee’s lunch I made for him, I take a deep breath preparing to walk into the station and to apologize. People around here haven’t exactly been shy about showing their distaste for Lee’s and I’s relationship. Though, ever since Lee broke a guy’s nose for saying some things about his choice in being with me, in front of the entire town’ no one’s too eager to say anything outright. Do I care? No. Not in the slightest, but, Lee is very protective and has always done everything he can to make sure that I know he loves me. I’ve always had a hard time controlling my emotions, and I’m extremely stubborn; so, that’s why I’m mentally preparing myself, while walking to the station’s front desk, to kiss my husbands ass for the way I reacted this morning. “Hi, is Lee here?”

The perky little blonde girl at the desk, looked up at me from behind her glasses. “He’s not here right now, he’s out on patrol. Is there something I can help you with?”

I shake my head. “Uh, no. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“The sheriff is scheduled to be back within the next 30 minutes.” She pointed to the chairs lined up against the wall, to the right of the desk, in by the entrance into the station itself. “You can take a seat and wait for him there.” Nodding, I thank her and take a seat.

After about 20 minutes, a cop, I’ve never seen before, walks to the front and starts talking to the blonde; Karen, whose name I learned within a few minutes of me waiting. He then walks towards me and stands in front of me and gives me a small smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Is there something I can help you with?”

Giving a small smile in return, I respond. “No, thank you. Just waiting for my husband.”

The cop, Friemel, as his tag says, takes the seat next to me and points to the bag in my lap. “What’s in there?”

“It’s his lunch.”

“What a good little wife you are, making his lunch for him.” I look him in the eyes for a moment, take a deep breath and look back in front of me, trying not to roll my eyes. Lee may take it, but that’s because he knows who he married, but other men don’t take too kindly to a woman rolling their eyes at them. “Whatever it is, it sure smells good.” I give him a small smile as a thank you. “May I ask what it is?”

“It’s chicken, potato salad, baked beans, and banana pudding.”

He leans back and puts his arm on the back of my chair, making me uncomfortable. I don’t know what it is about this guy but he just radiates creep energy. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes me feel like I’d be in danger; if I wasn’t married to the most aggressively protective man I’ve ever known. I subtly scoot a little to my left, still in my chair but giving a little space between me and the cop. “Wow, that’s a whole meal. You must really love your husband.”

I look to him, “yes well, he loves me.”

The cop leans a little closer to me, I lean back in turn, and he whispers to me. “Are you sure about that?”

At that moment, the front door slams shut. Both the cop and I look towards the door and see Lee standing there, fuming. If he were a cartoon, he’d be red as a tomato and there’d be smoke blowing out of his ears. Grabbing both my purse and the bag of lunch, I stand and walk to him with a relieved smile. “Hi honey.”

Lee briefly looks down at me, gives me a smile, kisses me on my cheek, and then immediately looks at the cop. “Is there a problem here, sweets?”

The cop spoke up before I had the chance to even open my mouth. “No, sir. No problem at all. Just keeping your lovely wife company until you came back,” Lee’s eyes grew darker, “sir.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you deputy,” Lee took a step towards him and i put my hand on his shoulder, “there’s a stack of paperwork that needs to be done.” He points to the desk. “Go do it.” The cop quickly nods his head, takes the papers and walks off; all the while, Lee just stands watching him. After he’s gone, Lee grabs my arms, takes me to his office and gently pushes me inside. He steps in and turns to everyone outside the office, “no one is to disturb me,” he then shuts and locks the door and turns to me. Lee slowly stalks towards me looking as if he’s a predator about to pounce his prey.

The moment he gets to me, he grabs my face and kisses me with so much strength and emotion that I take a step back and drop both my purse and his lunch. His tongue traces my bottom lip asking for permission to explore my mouth and I, as I’ve always done, grant it to him. Lee quietly moans and before it goes too far, I slightly pull back. Taking a deep breath, I look up into his hooded eyes, which have gone almost completely black with lust. “I brought you lunch.” All I want to do is jump his bones and yet I decided to say that. He hums and leans to kiss me again but as he leans forwards, I lean back. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He smirks as his thumbs rub my cheeks and puts his forehead onto mine. “Oh sugar, I’m starving.” He moves his hands to my waist and walks me backwards until my back hits his desk and he lifts me to sit on it. “But not for food.” ‘Damn.’ We’ve been married for nearly 10 years, and yet this man still has the ability to get me dripping for him in no time.

Lee presses his lips to mine once more while one of his hands goes to my hair and the other wraps around my throat. My hands goes to his chest and I slightly press; Lee moves to kiss up my jaw to that special spot right below my ear. “Wha-oh, what about everyone—“ a moan slips from my lips when he sucks and pulls at that spot with his teeth.

“Then I guess you have to be quiet.” Le whispers into my ear. My hands go to his head and pull him to my lips. I immediately run my tongue across his bottom lip and he grants me access. His hands run across my body; down my chest, all the way down to the tops of my thighs where my dress rode up. As his hands roam, I run my hands down to his pants and unbuckle his belt.

Lee pushes my panties to the side and runs his fingers through my folds while his other hand goes to the back of my neck and grips it. “Damn baby, you’re already soaked and I’ve barely touched you.” I want to roll my eyes and tell him to shut up but all I can manage to get out is a strangled moan like a horny teenager. He smirks and thrusts two of his fingers into me and we both moan. “I don’t even need to get you ready, do I?” I try to pull him closer so I can get his lips on mine but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, he pushes me so I’m laying on his desk and he grips my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand. With one hand, he pushes his pants and boxers down just enough to release his long, thick cock, as I wrap my legs around his hips. With one thrust, he enters me fully. I bite my lip trying to contain the moan that’s begging to be let out. Lee did not like that so, he wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes; not enough to cut off my air, but enough to let me know that he’s serious. “Oh no babygirl. Let them hear you. Let every one of my guys out there know exactly who you belong to.” He pulls out just to slam back into me with enough force to push me up his desk and I let out a loud, almost pornagraphic, moan. He moves the hand that was on my throat to pull the top of my dress and my bra down until my boobs are hanging out. Lee pulls and twists at my left nipple while he licks and nips at my right one, all the while thrusting into me like it’s our last day on Earth.

“Oh god! Lee, pl-ugh-please!” I don’t know what it is I’m begging for, but he’s so deep in me, I swear I feel him in my stomach. While he moves to look down at my fucked out face, he moves the hand that was playing with my pebbled nipple to my throat and squeezes and I clench around him. Lee lets out a loud groan and his thrusts falter a little, but then he immediately picks up his pace.

“Look at you. You’re such a slut for this cock.” At this point, he’s slamming into me so damn hard and, almost inhumanly, fast that it feels like he’s literally splitting me apart. I can already feel myself about to finish and, with his slightly faltering rhythm, he’s not too far behind.

“I’m gonna cum. L-Lee, p-p-please c-can I cum?” He speeds up as much as he can and moves to rub my clit at the same pace as he’s thrusting into me.

“You can cum.” I start to bite my lip but the hand holding him up moves to grab my cheeks and squeezes them. “Don’t you dare try to be quiet!” He moves his hand back to hold him up and with one last hard thrust, I let go, screaming. After a couple more thrusts, I can feel his cum painting my walls. He presses his lips to mine as he keeps thrusting to prolong both of our orgasms.

Once we both came down from our bliss, he pulls out of me and grabs the bag with his lunch, looks inside and back at me with the brightest smile on his face. I sit up, he grabs me by the face and kisses me. This kiss is different from all the others; full of love, not lust nor jealousy. “Thank you for lunch babygirl. Now, let’s eat.”

#devil all the time #imagines #request #smut #firstever

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Update

I’ll be posting a couple fics by the end of the day tomorrow. I’m so sorry it’s taken me a hot minute but, hopefully, it’ll be worth it❤️

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Are you taking requests by chance?

Yes! Request away💕

#my asks #ask

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Hi so I was wondering when are you going to start writing ✍

Hi! Yes, I’m hoping to get a few works out by the end of the week since my calendar cleared up a little.

I’m so sorry it’s taken me a hot minute to respond😭

#my asks #ask

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multiversstuff · 2 years

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Writing fight scenes

masterlist. main navigation.

@bluebxlle_writer on Instagram

1. Pacing

A fight scene should be fast-paced and intense. Unless it's a final battle with numerous parties, a fight scene that's too long tends to take away suspense. To speed up your pacing, use active voice to describe movement and don't overdescribe your characters' thoughts. Excessive inner monologue will be unrealistic, as people usually have no room to think during intense combats.

2. Character mannerisms

Here's a point that people often overlook, but is actually super important. Through fight scenes, you should be able to reveal your characters' contrasting mannerisms and personality. A cunning character would play dirty - fighting less and making use of their opponent's weakness more. A violent character would aim to kill. A softer one would only target to disarm their enemies, using weakened attacks. A short-minded character would only rely on force and attack without thinking. This will help readers understand your characters more and decide who to root for.

3. Making use of surroundings

Not only the characters, you also need to consider the setting of your fight scene and use it to your advantage. Is it suitable for fighting, or are there dangerous slopes that make it risky? Are there scattered items that can help your characters fight (e.g. nails, shards of glass, ropes, wooden boards, or cutlery)? Is it a public place where people can easily spot the fight and call the authorities, or is it a private spot where they can fight to the death?

4. Description

The main things that you need to describe in a fight scene are :

• Characters involved in the fight

• How they initiate and dodge attacks

• Fighting styles and any weapons used

• The injuries caused

Be careful to not drag out the description for too long, because it slows down the pace.

5. Raise the stakes

By raising the stakes of the fight, your readers will be more invested in it. Just when they think it's over, introduce another worse conflict that will keep the scene going. Think of your characters' goals and motivations as well. Maybe if the MC didn't win, the world would end! Or maybe, one person in the fight is going all-out, while the other is going easy because they used to be close :"D

6. Injuries

Fights are bound to be dirty and resulting in injuries, so don't let your character walk away unscathed - show the effect of their injuries. For example, someone who had been punched in the jaw has a good chance of passing out, and someone who had been stabbed won't just remove the knife and walk away without any problem. To portray realistic injuries, research well.

7. Drive the plot forward

You don't write fight scenes only to make your characters look cool - every fight needs to have a purpose and drive the plot forward. Maybe they have to fight to improve their fighting skills or escape from somewhere alive. Maybe they need to defeat the enemy in order to obtain an object or retrieve someone who had been kidnapped. The point is, every single fight scene should bring the characters one step closer (or further :D) to the climax.

8. Words to use

• Hand to hand combat :

Crush, smash, lunge, beat, punch, leap, slap, scratch, batter, pummel, whack, slam, dodge, clobber, box, shove, bruise, knock, flick, push, choke, charge, impact

• With weapon :

Swing, slice, brandish, stab, shoot, whip, parry, cut, bump, poke, drive, shock, strap, pelt, plunge, impale, lash, bleed, sting, penetrate

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