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ramp-it-up · 2 days
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II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...
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Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)
Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.
Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.
A/N:  This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.
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Previous part
—--
You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago. 
Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind. 
He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.
“What?”
He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.
“You hungry?”
You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.
“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”
Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all. 
“Just checking.”
After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.
“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”
He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat. 
“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”
Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.
“No worries at all, Buttercup.”
His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.
Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.
“I want…”
That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either. 
“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!” 
You were as happy as a clam.
“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!” 
Sy raised his eyebrow at you.
“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”
“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.” 
You grinned at him and he shook his head.
“Still living dangerously, I see.”
You raised your chin.
“I’m still living,” you replied.
An understanding passed between you.
“Amen.”
Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.
“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”
He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.
“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”
Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.
“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”
You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”
Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.
“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”
You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.
“Sy, that’s sweet.”
He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.
“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”
 His eyes ran over your body posessively. 
“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”
You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.
“Got your food here!”
Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?
“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”
You reached out and arranged an errant curl.
“Looks good on you, Sy.”
He just grinned and then turned to get the food. 
Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”
You looked at him skeptically.
“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”
He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.
“What the hell. You only live once, right?”
“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”
— 
You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.
Il tuo fedel
Sospira ognor
Cessa, crudel
Tanto rigor
Ooh
Ooh
“You ready?”
You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.
“Let’s go.”
Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened. 
“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”
“What do you mean?”
“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”
“Yeah.”
“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”
Your heart clenched.
“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”
There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.
“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.”
He looked at you long and hard.
“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”
“What?”
Your mouth dropped open. 
“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”
“Unhhunh.”
Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.
“I am so sorry Sy.”
“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”
Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.
“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”
Sy’s voice lowered.
“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”
“Scott. Yeah…”
You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.
“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”
He saw the look on your face.
“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”
Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.
“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”
He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom. 
“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”
You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.
“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”
You needed his answer like air.
“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”
You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.
“What about you? How has your life been?”
You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.
“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”
Sy winced. You chuckled.
“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.” 
You shook your head at your gullibility.
“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”
You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.
“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”
Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.
“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”
You smiled at him. 
“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”  
You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.
“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”
You looked him in the eye again.
“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”
“I’m glad, Buttercup.”
Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.
“You sharing this good life with anyone?”
Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.
“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”
Sy seemed to let out a breath. 
“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”
You didn’t know what to say. 
“Oh.”
Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.
“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”
“Hmmm.”
You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate. 
“Please look at me Buttercup.”
You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.
“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”
Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.
“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”
—-
The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?
“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”
“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”
He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.
“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”
You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.
“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”
He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.
“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”
Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.
“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”
You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.
Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away. 
“Mmmhm.”
Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control. 
“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”
“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.” 
You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice. 
Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.
“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”
And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.
“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”
Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.
Holy fuck, was he a goner.
You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.
“Look who’s getting spicy no-”
Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.
“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”
You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?
Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.
“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”
Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.
“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”
Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.
“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”
You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone. 
“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”
Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more. 
“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”
Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.
“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”
Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.
“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”
You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most. 
He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.
‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’
He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.
“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”
“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”
Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.
“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”
Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.
“Why?” 
He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.
“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”
The stutter did you in.
“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”
Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.
“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”
“Go for it.”
You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.
Sy looked up at you, offended.
“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”
He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy. 
“So fucking good for me.” 
“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”
“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”
“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”
“I love this pretty little pussy.”
His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.
“Syyyyyy!”
“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”
He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.
Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.
“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”
Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.
“C’mere, Baby…”
You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing. 
It was your turn to pleasure him.
“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”
You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.
“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”
Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.
“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”
His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.
“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”
“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”
Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing. 
“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”
You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.
“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”
“Ummhnnghhh!”
There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.
“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”
Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.
“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”
He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.
“That was…”
You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.
“That was hot.”
“Yeah. It was great.”
“I love you, Buttercup.”
There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.
Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.
“It’s getting chilly out.” 
He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.
“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”
You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.
Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.
“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”
“Jacob Syverson!”
You swatted at his chest.
“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.” 
He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening? 
In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips. 
“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”
It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.
“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”
Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.
“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”
“Okay.”
Why were you so breathless?
Sy was anxious at letting you go.
“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”
You smirked at him. 
“Alright.”
Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.
“G’night, Buttercup."
He licked those sinful lips of his.
"Sweet dreams.”
He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.
“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”
----
If you like it, hit reblog!
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nikasholistic · 2 days
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Write what you want. Write what makes you happy. Write for yourself. Write for the joy of writing. Write what sets your soul on fire. Writing should be about self expression. Writing should be about discovering the wildest aspects of your imagination.
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Hey guys! Introduction time
I'm Ash Shepard, I also go by Athena and I relaunched an old writing prompt blog, but with a fresh start, fresh name: Welcome To PromptVille!
We'll be covering all types of writing prompts. Fanfiction, original works, flash fic prompts etc.
But there are rules:
Writing prompts must not be racist, xenophobic or hateful to anybody in real life - e.g hate towards Muslims, Jewish people or anything like thatBecause of this, our askbox is only open for suggestions for type of prompts you want to see.
If you use our prompts, tag this blog and we'll reblog your stuff!
No bullying or hating on anyone who uses our prompts
If we post something that can be seen as Shady, please let us know and we'll remove it.
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Have fun and thank you for reading
- Ash Athena Shepard
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theeccentricraven · 3 days
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Five things I like about writing
Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag!
Rules: Title says it all 💜
I love to follow in the footsteps of my favorite authors. I've read so many good books in my life. I admire how authors put a lot of hard work and effort into the writing. I love how their stories impacted me. I want to do the same.
I love making my quirky ideas come to life. My mind is constantly brewing ideas. What if this? What if that? How about this? How about that? My mind is storming with so many ideas, I need to get them down. I love seeing those ideas on paper.
I love expressing emotions and pain. I've gone through a lot of pain in my life. My characters go through painful experiences as I did. I like to get deep into their emotions. It helps me heal and persevere.
I like to come up with imaginative settings. I've created worlds after thinking, "I've seen some cool worlds in other fantasy and sci-fi, but I haven't seen this yet." I create places that I would love to visit. I often create places I wish were real. Even when writing in our contemporary world, I like to find ways to use the setting. I like to imagine amazing events happening in ordinary places. The setting is like a character.
I like doing a project that's worth doing. Even if I write 300,000 words of trash, it's still worth it. I've made something. I've accomplished something. I'm a creator holding my creation. I am spending my time on something that requires a lot of brains, perspiration, and determination. I am keeping the craft of writing alive in our generation. I inspire myself. I hope to inspire others.
Tagging (No Pressure): @selenekallanwriter @americanfemcel @melpomene-grey @talesofsorrowandofruin @faeriecinna @tildeathiwillwrite @ad-wills and anyone who wants to join!
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charliejaneanders · 4 months
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Random writing thought: the best stories are often the ones that only you could have written — but also the ones that you could only write at this one moment.
I couldn't write All the Birds in the Sky from scratch now if I tried. But the me of 2013 couldn't have written The Prodigal Mother either.
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shepardsherd · 2 months
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When your characters just start revealing lore you didn't know about them, as you're writing them
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emeryleewho · 1 year
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I used to work for a trade book reviewer where I got paid to review people's books, and one of the rules of that review company is one that I think is just super useful to media analysis as a whole, and that is, we were told never to critique media for what it didn't do but only for what it did.
So, for instance, I couldn't say "this book didn't give its characters strong agency or goals". I instead had to say, "the characters in this book acted in ways that often felt misaligned with their characterization as if they were being pulled by the plot."
I think this is really important because a lot of "critiques" people give, if subverted to address what the book does instead of what it doesn't do, actually read pretty nonsensical. For instance, "none of the characters were unique" becomes "all of the characters read like other characters that exist in other media", which like... okay? That's not really a critique. It's just how fiction works. Or "none of the characters were likeable" becomes "all of the characters, at some point or another, did things that I found disagreeable or annoying" which is literally how every book works?
It also keeps you from holding a book to a standard it never sought to meet. "The world building in this book simply wasn't complex enough" becomes "The world building in this book was very simple", which, yes, good, that can actually be a good thing. Many books aspire to this. It's not actually a negative critique. Or "The stakes weren't very high and the climax didn't really offer any major plot twists or turns" becomes "The stakes were low and and the ending was quite predictable", which, if this is a cute romcom is exactly what I'm looking for.
Not to mention, I think this really helps to deconstruct a lot of the biases we carry into fiction. Characters not having strong agency isn't inherently bad. Characters who react to their surroundings can make a good story, so saying "the characters didn't have enough agency" is kind of weak, but when you flip it to say "the characters acted misaligned from their characterization" we can now see that the *real* problem here isn't that they lacked agency but that this lack of agency is inconsistent with the type of character that they are. a character this strong-willed *should* have more agency even if a weak-willed character might not.
So it's just a really simple way of framing the way I critique books that I think has really helped to show the difference between "this book is bad" and "this book didn't meet my personal preferences", but also, as someone talking about books, I think it helps give other people a clearer idea of what the book actually looks like so they can decide for themselves if it's worth their time.
Update: This is literally just a thought exercise to help you be more intentional with how you critique media. I'm not enforcing this as some divine rule that must be followed any time you have an opinion on fiction, and I'm definitely not saying that you have to structure every single sentence in a review to contain zero negative phrases. I'm just saying that I repurposed a rule we had at that specific reviewer to be a helpful tool to check myself when writing critiques now. If you don't want to use the tool, literally no one (especially not me) can or wants to force you to use it. As with all advice, it is a totally reasonable and normal thing to not have use for every piece of it that exists from random strangers on the internet. Use it to whatever extent it helps you or not at all.
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selenekallanwriter · 18 days
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Person: What's your book about?
Writers:
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I'm both somehow 🙃
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xisadorapurlowx · 4 months
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moonshinemagpie · 11 months
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There are little romance subplots all around me irl and I don't have the time to turn any of them into novels
Today I went to my favorite Italian restaurant and was seated at the table nearest the kitchen. We noticed a change to the menu. The list of pastas had been replaced by just "pasta of the day." We asked what the pasta of the day was. The waiter told us it was a mystery. So we ordered it, and when it came it was pasta with eggs and bacon, and I was so surprised and delighted by this unexpected whimsy that I started to clap. And then I noticed the chef watching me from the doorway and smiling. He had clearly come out wanting to see what people's reactions would be.
I'm not saying I love the chef or that the chef loves me. I am saying that is a seed with which to grow a romance that I don't have time to write.
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jgmartin · 10 months
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me, after clearing my schedule to write:
uhhhh it was raining... and dark (and also night) and um... cold i guess?? anyway, something dramatic~ happened
me, stuck in traffic on my way to work:
Rain tumbled through midnight leaves, casting the forest in liquid moonlight. A low growl shook the horizon. Death had come.
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dice-wizard · 7 months
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Okay writers listen up
I'm gonna tell you about how I wrangled my shitbird brain into being a terrifying word-churning engine and have written over 170K words in under a year.
I wanna be clear that before unlocking this Secret Technique I was a victim of my unmedicated ADHD, able to start but never finish, able to ideate but not commit and I truly and firmly believed that I'd never write a novel and such a thing was simply outside of my reach.
Now I write (and read!!) every day. Every. Single. Day. Like some kind of scriptorial One Punch Man.
Step the First
Remove friction between yourself and writing.
I personally figured out how to comfortably write on my phone which meant I didn't have to struggle with the insurmountable task of opening my laptop.
I don't care if this means you write in a Discord server you set up for yourself, but fucking do it. Literally whatever makes you write!
(if you do write somewhere that isn't a word processor PLEASE back your work up regularly!)
Step the Second
Make that shit a habit. Write every day.
For me, I allow myself the grace that ANY progress on writing counts. One sentence? Legal. Five thousand furious hyperfixated words? Also legal.
Every day, make progress. Any progress.
I deleted Twitter from my phone and did my best to replace doomscrolling with writing. If I caught myself idly scrolling I'd close whatever I was looking at and open my draft and write one (1) sentence until I made THAT a habit, too.
Step Two-point-Five
DO NOT REWRITE. If you are creating a first draft, don't back up or restart. Continous forward motion. Second drafts and editors exist. Firsts are for ripping the fucking thing out of your brain.
If you're working on revisions after an editor or beta readers or whoever has given you feedback, then you can rewrite that's OK (and it counts as your writing for the day!)
Step the Third
Now that you've found a comfortable way to write and are doing it every day, don't stop. Keep doing it. Remember, just one sentence is all you need. You can always do more, but if one lousy sentence is all you can manage then you're still successfully writing.
Remember: this is what worked for me. Try things until you find what works for you.
You can do it. I believe in you.
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magiccarpetman · 3 months
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When you see this post, add one sentence to your current WIP.
(I need to work on my thesis, so I’ll add a sentence per note as long as that’s sustainable. We can do this together 🧡🧡)
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nikasholistic · 5 months
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You don’t have to be a perfect writer to start writing. The more you write, the better you become. 
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charliejaneanders · 8 months
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I just saw a post on Tumblr asking if you're "allowed" to do something in a story you're writing. (In this case, a POV shift.)
I just want to sing to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, "THERE ARE NO RULES. THERE ARE NO RULES. There are no rules there are no rules there are no rules..."
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