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Things to know about your novel - before writing it

1. your reader

Since you can’t put swear words in middle grade lit and you can’t make your 40yo villain scream “get the freaking guy”, make sure you know who you’re writing for!

You also need to picture your perfect audience because you need to have in mind a specific person who, reading your novel, would feel the way you want them to feel.

I write NA, but specifically my perfect reader is an 18yo who liked urban fantasy and folk tales, a witchy person with a love for tarot cards.

2. vibe

Palahniuk writes books that cut deep, leave a mark, make you laugh tragically in front of the bleak situations of life. Bardugo writes lively, velvety prose.

How do you want your book to sound like? Will it make people feel uplifted or do you want them to stop to think or, maybe, do you want them to cry? Up to you.

3. tragedies

If your ocs have tragic backstories, that shit is going to haunt them. Don’t slide in with a new tragedy mid-first draft, it might sound a little fake.

4. deaths

and, finally. Whoever dies can’t do anything more in the rest of the novel. Make sure you don’t make them play a key role in a scene where they should be dead. 100% didn’t happen to me I swear :)

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They saw her walking slowly through the ruined fields with her gaze locked ahead of her, eyes blank and glossed over. Her steps were slow and methodical, but none dared approach her. Her dress, torn, tattered, with blood staining the hem as it dragged the ground, flowed in an unseen wind.

They were shocked when she stopped, and a few even took a few steps back from her. She turned to them slowly, gaze still fixed somewhere far beyond their world.

Her lips curled into a cruel mockery of a smile. She did not speak, she did not have to, they knew they had lost.

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this is just a little short story i wrote a while ago, i’m sorry if it’s not good.

Thunder Sounds Like The End

716 words

characters: my oc Damien and my oc Zoe.

tw suicide 

__________________________________________

Thunder. Its… thundering. Like it wasn’t a sunny and cloudless day a few hours ago. Of course I wasn’t conscious for those few “gorgeous” hours of the day. But it didn’t matter, it never does. But today is the day. The day I was going to take the “fall of a lifetime” I like to call it. People call it a jump, but I don’t think you technically jump. its more of a fall in my opinion. But aside from that, today has the perfect conditions for this occasion.

 I wander into the kitchen of my small apartment to find the source, an empty bottle of assorted pills. I suppose my last attempt had failed. That has to be the case. That doesn’t matter anymore. This time it’s going to work. There is no room for fail. 


I go into my bedroom and into the closet. Through my assortment of clothes, I decide to wear what I always wear. An old hoodie, sweatpants, and old shoes. I don’t bother to brush my teeth, like I’m gonna talk to anyone. 


The kitchen table holds what i will leave for everyone else. I’ll give my money to my best friend, and my car and house to my mother. I don’t want to leave a note, I don’t want to leave anything. The only thing I’ll do is call them beforehand. I pick up my phone and dial my best friends number.


 Zoe answered on the second ring,“Hey, Damien, whats up?”


“Oh, i just called to say…” I mumble into my hoodie sleeve.


“Say what?”


“…I left you my bank account, please give your spare key to my mom.” I spurt out quickly.


“Haha you cant be serious” She laughs at me.


“I am very serious” I state in a monotone voice.


“Wha- but- uh- I…” Zoe stutters,“… You … your … your gonna…” A muffled sob comes from the other end of the line.


“You can come by my house anytime, ill be gone before you get here.”


“W-” her cries get cut off as i end the call. No one is getting in my way today. I don’t care what she says. 


The keys clink as I set them onto the table, leaving them there. Taking one last look at my house, I don’t regret the choices I have made. Its my life, I should be able to do what I want with it. I grasp the old door knob and turned it slowly and step out into the carpeted hall of the apartment complex. I make my way towards the buildings entrance. Leaving the small apartment building it starts to downpour drenching everyone in the street with waves of rain water. I pay no mind to it and make my way across the street to the large commercial office building. Stepping into the elevator the water on my wet clothes begins to pool onto the floor. The elevator begins its ascent. it rises up higher, to the 100th floor. The cart stops with a jolt and the doors open.  


The wind rips at my clothes as I make my way towards the edge. Everyone having happy fulfilling lives with no worries except what to have for dinner make their way below me. I feel…powerful up here, like no one can stop me. I lean over the edge and look down. The air seems thinner up here. Fresher. 


I turn around. The last thing I want to see is the sky. The heels of my shoes hang over the building. 


I lean backwards.


More…


I feel weightless. Like a feather. Its calm. The only sound is the wind whistling in my ears. 


The calm will be over soon. 


Very…very..soon…

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How my Oc’s would die if not being gunned down


Sebastian: old age or in the medbay from blunt trauma

⚠️ TW: Suicide ⚠️

Dmitri: he decided when and how he died long ago, he’d finish up what he needed to do in life and instead of wait it out, he’d go to fizz top mountain, lay down gas bombs and tell people he needed their gas masks to repair filters. At the time he finished his personal duties for the leaders he’d take off his gas mask and set them off leaving a green cloud that comes through the holes in fizz top mountain and the bottle, he made sure that everyone was locked in with welding so nobody survived

⚠️ok it’s over⚠️


Akkordeon: he’d die of a terrorist attack while off duty, he wouldn’t die slowly but he wouldn’t die how he wanted


Rugby: honestly, he’d just die of old age

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Faun: Oh, I guess I am part of the circle of life aren’t I?
Wi110: I am well and truly free.
Chowder: Welp, they say you are what you eat hehe.
Beta-1: Death? Ha, it’s about fucking time.
Lilith: Well then friends, may I see you on the the side!!!
Mary-Anne: Was I a good girl mama?

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TW: Some mild/moderate description of physical abuse (whipping) and the left over affects, some memories and ptsd-esque stuff

~~~~

Chapter Two: Proposals

To say your father was angry with the turn of events was probably an understatement. He just couldn’t physically show his levels of anger, not that his scent didn’t make it obvious. Your mother wasn’t supposed to be on any scouting mission, which apparently was what she had been doing when her estrus came. If you were right, the Queen had sent her out. Being the King’s preferred mate won no favors in the court when he was married to someone else.

You seethed with no outlet; the human had been taken to a cell as soon as you arrived with him in your arms. You had been barred from interacting with him, likely because they feared you killing him. And you wouldn’t deny that could be a possibility.

Last night after you had arrived back, had been bloody filled with pain as the Queen, your stepmother, and the only mother the court recognized; felt that punishment was in order for doing more than your assignment. Though honestly from the slip of her tongue as she whipped your back raw and red, it was more because ‘you ruined her plans.’

Your back was still tender, the healing salve though it worked wonders could only do so much and this time she had been so angry. An involuntary shudder rippled through you as you remembered the way she looked before she stepped behind you. The memory of the servant finding you half an hour later from what the candle said, with the faint feeling of wetness from your own blood having soaked through the ribbons of your gown and made quite a mess on the ground, plagued your mind when you weren’t careful. This was one of the punishments that would take a while to forget.

You stood off to the side of the throne as you waited for the Dragon Slayer. He had finally arrived or would be arriving soon. He had sent a carrier falcon earlier and asked for an audience, he apparently had your mother’s body. She had lost life her life, supposedly, during the journey to the Draconic Kingdom and her self-destructive tendencies had caused damage too great. Which wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities, without a mate she would have refused to eat and slowly mauled herself in desperation.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t at fault in your mind. If he hadn’t gotten in the way, she would have mated, even if it had been with a different dragon.

Your father could barely sit still in the large gold inlayed chair. His muscles twitched and jumped with agitation. Knowing his mate, the mate he chose every year above all other females including his own wife, was dead was probably destroying his dragon. It likely wanted to mourn correctly. You know you did.

Your form was slightly slouched, taking a dejected position until the humans were announced, and the muscle memory kicked in. Presentation was everything, it commanded respect even at the worst of times. Your spine and shoulders moving of their own accord as they straightened and your chin tilting with confidence.

The Dragon Slayer stepped inside the audience chamber with two humans flanking him, a woman with pink skin and a young man with blond hair that sported some sort of black jagged marking in it. The king wore heavy furs and a couple strings of necklaces, the others were dressed in high class robes but obviously weren’t royalty, nobility likely wasn’t far from the mark though.

The desire to defend, to attack, reared in your muscles and mind but you managed to keep control. The Queen and the King sat to your side and you would not embarrass your father. Your brother and sister were off to their other side; however, they were so much younger than you and likely didn’t quite understand the significance of what was taking place.

“Where is she?” your father’s voice was quiet, gravelly with carefully controlled grief, and you ached to touch him even as you stood frozen in your proper place.

“Bring her in,” Bakugo frowned, as his hand motioned forward, and the doors behind him parted farther, two humans bringing in the prone dragon form of your mother.

They set her before your father, before you, quietly and bowed as they backed away. Your legs twitched, fingers flexing, with the aching need to collapse next to her and make sure she wasn’t gone. Even though you could smell the slight rot from hours of travel on her dead body already starting. The tears welled and your tried so hard not to let them fall. But two crept out and you sniffled with disgust. Death was something you were familiar with, but it wasn’t supposed to touch those you were closest to. You felt selfish wishing it was someone else in front of you, instead of her. Yet you couldn’t stop those thoughts, even as you forced yourself to swallow your feelings because you were a princess right now, you were representing your race, and you’d be damned if you showed weakness. You fixed the human before you with a frozen glare, directing all your anger and hatred at him.

“Thank you, King Bakugo, for bringing her back,” your father’s voice was all formalities and you hated, Ancients above, you hated that he would even think of showing gratitude to the man who technically killed her in the first place.

“I didn’t bring her back without expecting something in return,” his crimson eyes narrowed. “You have one of my men. A dragon took him.”

“Don’t worry he is still alive, if a little agitated,” the Dragon King waved his hand dismissively, bronze eyes staring at the corpse on the ground distractedly. “You can take him we have no use for him.”

“I also… would like to discuss something with you. For the future of our kingdoms, and to hopefully avoid… things like this again,” the Dragon Slayer motioned to your mother with a look of distaste even as he seemed to struggle with what he was saying, as if it were disgusting to even think of saying it.

This seemed to catch your father’s attention and it pulled his reptilian stare onto Bakugo, “Oh?”

“I would like to talk about a treaty. One that would solidify the peace for generations and make it harder for those… working against us to cause problems,” he was choosing his words carefully. “I was thinking a courtship. In the human kingdom it would be called marriage.”

Your father didn’t respond right away but you felt the prickle of unease at your nape as you watched his eye slip back to your dead mother. Not missing how that they moved to linger on you for a second, his gaze once again softening with pain.

“For once… I think you are right, young human king.”

 —-

Katsuki felt the air rush out of him in a sigh of relief. He expected to have to work harder at this, maybe the loss of this dragon had worked in his favor, she seemed important to the King. He now had to be prepared for several days of figuring out the logistics of this arranged marriage. Except the dragons’ King seemed to have a different plan and was more than ready for marrying his children off.

“I only have one daughter of age who could marry. Many of my children are only sixteen or much younger, not even close to considered an adult in dragon years. My daughter… Blodwyn is the oldest female of my brood, and she is similar to your age if we compare the differences in races. I believe you may have already seen her; she is the one who brought your soldier back,” the king lifted a lazy hand to a woman who stood off the side.

The woman started and snapped her head to the side to stare at her father. Her jaw tightening just slightly. Katsuki could tell she wanted to speak, but she merely focused that unearthly bronze gaze back onto him and curtsied. Her eyes held a chilled fire that was a feat and made Bakugo quirk his brow.

“I would be honored,” her statement was civil, but the tone of the last word was filled with venom.

He smirked. Though she was far from what was considered ideal in his kingdom when it came to her body shape, almost androgynous, he could make it work. Her chest held barely any curves and her hips just wide enough to cause a slight curve in her dress, her face was everything feminine and ethereal though. Even the short cropped black hair could not detract from her facial features, especially with the winged, glittering scale clusters that decorated her eyes like permanent lavender eye powder.

He had remembered catching the tail end of her fight with Kirishima. She had literally disappeared with him in her arms only to appear as barely more than a dot in the sky seconds later. He wondered what her quirk was, it seemed strong.

Her dragon form was beautiful from what he remembered, but she had looked fae-blood compared to the Breath Bloodline that the king was. That was something to investigate. She wasn’t ideal… but was someone interesting and possibly someone who could hold their own in court when it turned nasty. Which it likely would.

“I will offer her hand on a trial basis. The engagement will last a maximum of six months, young king… if she has not taken your third courtship gift by then we will revoke any mating or as you call it, marriage,” the king’s eye flashed cold and domineering.

Katsuki’s smirk widened, glancing at the woman before him, he didn’t know a lot about dragon courtships, but he was positive that winning this dragon over wouldn’t be hard.

“Will I be told what these gifts need to be?”

“Yes, I will have someone draw up the agreement, we will send a dragon with things that need to be signed and also the requirements,” the dragon leaned forward on his throne, looking down at the corpse of the fae-blood again with a sorrowful intensity. “Be careful human… I am entrusting you with her safety. If any harm becomes of her… I will personally skin you.”

Once again that intense gaze was focused on him, and Katsuki felt a tiny shiver go up his spine. That wasn’t a threat, that was a fact, a promise.

The princess merely watched the exchange, her gaze thoughtful, until her eyes shifted to look at the Queen for a moment, before going back to him. She squinted, tilting her head to the side as she sized him up.

“I’m sure I will be just fine, father,” she hissed.

Katsuki wasn’t an idiot, he was treading in dangerous territory and it wasn’t exactly like he was in his kingdom currently, “She will be treated with the utmost respect, sire.” He bowed to the king, but actually kneeled to the princess, “Welcome to the family, Blodwyn.”

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Last Moments: Gio and Bri.

Brigitte had been lying in bed all day. The sickness had begun to take over her body, attacking itself from within. Her skin was paler than normal, her frame much more frail.

A young Giordia knelt at her mother’s bedside, the Wallachian crest pinned to her blazer’s lapel. A queen at fourteen.


“Please don’t leave me, Mama,” Giordia wept. “I can’t lose anyone else.” Her voice broke as she said the words. She was alone. Not completely, just yet, but still very much so. “You don’t have to go now, I can try to fix you-”


“Gio, my love,” Brigitte said as she cupped her daughter’s face. “I have to go now. Promise me you’ll help the others, okay? Can you promise?”


“What about Giovanni, Mama? We’ll be left without you.”


“You will have each other. Siblings never go away. And, besides, you know your father and I will be looking down on you.” She was thrown into another coughing fit, the nearby trashbin becoming blood-splattered with each cough. “I’m going to see him at last.” She smiled weakly, a light returning to her eyes. “Astor..I’m going to be with my love again.”


Giordia watched, her eyes filling with tears. “Please-”


Brigitte took her daughter’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze. “Tell them I love them. And I love you.”


“I love you too, Mama.”


“Goodbye, my darling. Please don’t forget about me.”


“Never…never in a million years.”


Brigitte’s smile began to fade, and her hand went limp in Giordia’s. Her bright blue eyes dimmed slowly as the life was drained from her.


“…I will spend my days finding who did this to you.”

And with that, a new era began.


@cqppuccino @chaotic-whore

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Farrock is my oc, Melodie’s little brother. I think this is the first time I present him and this is the scene where he dies…I will have to present it better than that XD

Farrock esr mon oc, le petit frère de Mélodie. Je crois que c'est la première fois que je le présente et c'est la scène où il meurt… Faudra que je le présente mieux que ça XD

lloydmelodie2
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Death of a Queen

15, January 1599

Camille finishes writing her final words to her beloved husband Zion I of Askea. She passes the envelope on to a messenger.

She is housed in a prison tower in the heart of Kigonia’s capital of Garth. She shivers, hugging her tattered wool shawl close to herself to keep warm. Snow glistens in the soft light outside. Beyond the prison walls, laughter of children playing in the streets can be heard. Church bells are ringing just after Mass. All is calm.

“Your Majesty,” a priest says, popping his head in. “I have come to give you Last Rites.”

Camille straightened up, folded her hands, and proceeded to stay on her knees. The priest leaned down and made the sign of the cross with oil on her forehead. “In nomine Patris et Fillii, et Spirictus Sancti, Amen,” the priest recited.

“Holy Mary, pray for me. Saint Joseph, pray for me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I humbly beg you to assist in my agony. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.”

“God bless you, Majesty.” The priest dipped his head and exited swiftly, just before the guards came in.

Camille rose to her feet weakly and stumbled willingly towards them. They cuffed her hands in metal, and a lady-in-waiting took shears to her hair. Tears streamed down Camille’s eyes as a rosary was draped around her neck. A white cap was settled over her hair, and she was led outside into the cold of the day.

A significant crowd had gathered, cheering and throwing things. She stepped up onto the execution platform and looked out upon the crowd. “Pray for me, I beg you. God bless you all,” she declared.

She approached the block. “Madame, I humbly beg your forgiveness,” the masked executioner said.

“You are forgiven.” She went to her knees and rested her head on the block.

Once she felt the cold axe, gently resting.

Twice.

There was no third she could recollect.

@rosey-malachai

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image

Day 11: Death scene

I bet you can all guess that I didn’t have much inspiration for this one. I WAS gonna draw myself dying from a poison injection into my arm as I’m tied to a chair, but I got lazy… So I resorted to leave my oc for dead on a random hill.

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Those of you who have OCs, do y’all just have one OC who like,,

just dies??? Like, no matter what?

No matter how many times you write or rewrite the them/the story, you have to kill them???

For example, I’ve got this one dude. His name is Evan, and he’s gone through many stories, with many variations. (Originally, he was a villain and his name was Evil…because I was 10 and unoriginal.) But no matter what happens or changes, it is inevitable that he will die. Here’s a rundown of all of his deaths.

Death one- first version: (status-villain) Was being an evil prick and got stabbed by the MC as a result.

Death two/three- second version: (status-antagonist) Died of natural causes, possessed Angel and Angel sacrificed herself to kill him again.

Death four- third version: (status-background character) stabbed in the neck by Angel (yeahh…there was a phase where Angel was a villain…and had eyes.)

Death five- fourth version: (status-secondary protag) Lured to a cliff by Tricia and was pushed off by Alyx while distracted.

Death six- current version: (status-secondary protag) Shot in the back by thieves while the group was getting water and bled out on the riverbed.

I’M SORRY, EVAN.

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this is for you my discord friends

image

Octavia

She sat simply on the bench, feeling the sun’s rays practically rain down at her. she looked up to the sky and squinted her emerald-green eyes, her eyes slowly lingering over to the busy roads.

There a small, innocent boy stayed in the middle of the streets, unaware of the current situation. He seemed like he was chasing a cat, but had stopped for some inconvenient reason. Octavia felt her body began to shake.

He reminded her of her siblings.

Without thinking, she quickly stood up, and began to run towards the kid, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She couldn’t let a kid die like that. As she ran into the streets, she could feel her breath getting out of control, as she yelled as loud as she could, “Kid! Look out!”

The small boy turned around to see a big truck coming straight towards him, and clearly had no intention of stopping. The poor boy began to wildly shake, scared out of his life. So Octavia did what she knew what the best possible thing to do.

She pushed him out of the way, pushing her right in the pathway of the truck.

As the truck slammed into her, she let out a final strangled gasp, feeling the pain flow throughout her body. Her body slammed against the pavement, watching the colors everywhere slowly drain to black. She died, knowing she wouldn’t ever see her real siblings again.

London

London was taking a small hike throughout a small forest she particularly adored. She wasn’t out here for no reason; she was looking for a small gray cat she found a few weeks ago.. it looked rather skinny, she even brought some cat food with her, too.

It was almost pitch-black, and why she decided to come at this time was beyond London, but thankfully, she brought a flashlight, so she could illuminate some of the dark forest, but she couldn’t help feel as if someone was watching her back.. as if..

She heard a low, deep growl behind her. London turned around, now shaking, slowly shining the flashlight on the.. ‘thing.’ That thing was a bear.

Letting out a high-pitched, girly scream, she dropped her flashlight in a panic and began to run. She couldn’t die yet, she still had too many things to do! She continued to run aimlessly throughout the pitch-black forest, occasionally feeling the bears hot breath on her back, and its loud roars, which seemed to shake the entire forest.

Feeling out of breath, but yet, determined to survive, she pushed herself to move farther. She was Clementine Lissete, and she could face anything. “I’m Clementine, and I’m brave. I’m Clementine, and I’m stron-” She stopped as she saw two pairs of yellow eyes, forgetting about the bear. It was the cat. She felt a smile slowly grow on her lips, and took a single step forward.

She could feel something missing underneath her. That one thing missing was the ground. She walked right into a ravine. The last thing London could recall was yelling out her twin brothers name before a sickening splat to the ground occurred. She died alone, in the dark.

Mai

Mai was walking to her house, feeling her head slowly droop down. Her eyes focused on the pavement as she walked, kicking a small pebble. Disappointment and sadness was visible in her brown-hazel eyes, as she gave an loud audible sigh.

“They don’t know anything about me.”  Mai whispered, trying to encourage herself into a better mood. “I’m a good kid. I’m a good kid, I swear..” She repeated to herself, feeling herself slowly sit down on the grass. “I’m the worst kid.” Mai grabbed the grass, feeling it tickle her fingers, soothing her into a better mood.

Mai could feel her head slowly rise up, to examine where she was sitting. She was sitting in someones lawn, that’s for sure. She slowly and gently ran her gentle hands down her neck, sighing. It was a comfortable moment, to say atleast. It was comfortable until she heard a loud bang. 

She quickly rose to her feet, and gulped. Mai was scared. Mai was very, very, scared. She cursed to herself for being so weak; knowing that she was scared over a lousy noise.

“Stop, in the name of the law!” Mai’s head snapped up to see a police officer. She could feel a smile slowly form on her lips. She had a detective friend; or a detective grandpa, as she liked to tease. She was also a evil sidekick, and-

“She did it! Get her!” Mai’s smile vanished in a instant. What..? She didn’t do whatever she did! She turned around, feeling feeling tears bubble up in her eyes. Shes a good kid, shes a good kid, shes a good kid, she’s a good kid-

She could feel something pierce through her stomach. She slowly looked down at her belly, her hand rising to touch the wound. Blood soaked out of her grayish-white shirt. “I-I’m a good.. kid.. I.. s-s..wear..” Mai fell limp to the ground. She died being misunderstood. 

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