#can you tell the writer juices flowed as I kept writing

[kkvqwrites]

You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

#who would have thought I'd get wordy writing about Price #it's my older man kink #can you tell the writer juices flowed as I kept writing #mwii headcannons #task force 141 #141 headcanons #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #no use of y/n #ghost mwii #soap mwii #gaz mwii #price mwii

[tjerra14]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @foibles-fables, thank you so much, buddy! Tagging @philliam-writes and anyone else who wants to do this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 26.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 126,430.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently Horizon, mostly. I still have some Dragon Age fics lounging about my WIP folders and I do plan to continue them some day, but who knows when that day will come. Probably the same day DA4 releases. Which, at this point, might just be never. You know how it is.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? All Horizon ones: In You, All Things; Inertia; Unfold Your Empty Space; Plasticity and Linger.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do my best to respond to them, because I just feel it's a nice way of interacting with my readers, and expressing my gratitude for them taking the time to read my fics. However, sometimes I get a little overwhelmed, or life just drains me of all energy until I straight up forget that I still have some unanswered comments waiting for me, so if you left a comment I never replied to, have my deepest apologies and the reassurance that I will get to them. One day. Very likely before DA4 releases.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm, that's a good question. I usually make a point of ending on a more hopeful note, even if it's sometimes turning it around with literally the last sentence, so... Homecoming, maybe? Although that one is mostly just sad.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Bit of a tie between Unfold Your Empty Space and In All Its Splendour here, but given I like to put Aloy and Ikrie into situations and Splendour is a special one for me, I'm leaning towards the latter. It's actual fluff! For once!

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, at least not that I know of. Gonna chew off the ankles of anyone spreading hate on fics, be it mine or other people's, like a crazed chihuahua though, if I ever come across it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, and no. I tend to tiptoe the line with implied sexual content (sometimes it's heavily implied), but I have considered writing primarily smut before (and technically done it? For Dragon Age??) and will probably do it one of these days. Expect many more music metaphors. And hands. So many hands. I'm sorry.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? No. I'm struggling to come up with scenarios for even canon or canon-adjacent things, I simply can't fathom to throw multiple things together and somehow make them work. I'm in awe of everyone who can, though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so. (Once again, chihuahua bites--)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not in the sense of this question. I did translate my own writing a few years ago, since I started writing All Things Desolate And Forgotten as well as some parts of A New Beginning in German (even going as far as translating parts of the Chant of Light for myself since I didn't feel the official German translation kept the flow and melody of it), but quickly came to realise that Dragon Age and German just won't work for me, so I switched to English and stuck to it ever since.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not in earnest, but there was a fun joke project @philliam-writes and me discussed over a bottle of wine or two years ago. Still thinking about disaster Trevelyans with a side of power couple Eleanor/Imira sometimes.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Aloy/Ikrie. What can I say. They have seized my heart and refused to let it go ever since. Beta/Milu is a close contender, though.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Realistically speaking, A Little Faith. I keep telling myself I will work on it again, but right as I was getting back into it, Horizon came along and demanded all my writing juice. I suppose only time will tell.

16. What are your writing strengths? Characterisation and evocative language. I like to think I'm fairly good at portraying the emotions and atmosphere of a scene.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything action. Fight scenes especially are the bane of my existence. Choreographing things? Horror. Then turning said imagined choreography into words that make it understandable and real for a reader? Torture.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Neat, if it serves a purpose and is done well. Wouldn't overdo it though, because it might take away from the effect.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Dragon Age. I used to write original fiction only and looked down on fanfiction writers for most of my teen years because they "didn't do the entire work", but hitting a hard block, getting into gaming properly at around the same time and then realising there were stories I wanted and was able to tell within the setting presented within those games quickly turned those sentiments around. Absolutely for the better. I'm very glad to have started writing fanfic and was able to meet so many lovely people through it.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? There are many fics very dear to my heart so this is hard to decide, but I think the circumstances surrounding its creation ultimately push Reprise to the top.

#this was fun! #my fingers are itching to get back into writing again #but i was hit unexpectedly hard #by this minor--checks notes--knee surgery thing #but hey! one of these days #writing #tag game

[a-court-of-ink-and-fire]

reflection

This semester, my writing has changed. I have spent years cultivating a writing style, but like any art form, it is ever-evolving, and before the start of the semester, I had horrible writer's block for months. This class provided helpful prompts that got my creative juices flowing, and in fact, I wrote one of my favorite pieces in this class (The Iron Fears the Rot). Outside of the course, I have also been able to pursue my personal endeavors, such as plotting out the outline of my own book and writing small pieces here and there for my friend.

There's always room for improvement in writing; while I have been at this since I was a kid, I am no exception. I love learning new things and learning ways to improve my grammar, story-telling, pacing, etc. I think there's always a way to become better as a writing, and stagnating or deciding you're "too good" for that will only hinder you as a creative. 

I love writing and have loved the art form ever since I can remember. I have been an avid reader since I first learned to read, and reading is the number 1 best way to improve one's writing skills. It's beautiful to watch how someone's mind works through their writing and how different every person's writing style is. You can draw inspiration from other types, of course, but something always makes it unique to every individual.

I loved the novel that I was assigned, The Black Kids. I'm thrilled I was given it over my first pick because it's enriched my life. Christina Hammonds-Reed has a unique writing style; every page was engaging and kept my attention. Her descriptions were so creative and drew comparisons in nature that I would never have thought of. Overall, I will reread that book a few more times. I already have it thoroughly tabbed, but I can find more things to annotate.

[kithtaehyung]

How did you get started with writing? I've always wanted to try but it's a bit intimidating. Do you have any advice for beginners?

Hi, love! Oh my gosh, I have been there. Frankly, it’s still intimidating😅 But! I’ll try my best to offer some advice that has worked for me💛

Note: if these don’t work for you, pls don’t stress🤍 As with any artistic medium, there’s no one-way ticket to success. Find your own style/what works for you, but use anything here as a guide/starting point.

1) The hardest part is starting. This is just a pretty general statement, but it’s true. You can think about writing all day, but in order to actually get into it, you gotta transfer those words and ideas from your brain onto paper—journals, Notes app on your phone, Google docs, anything. Once you start putting those ideas down, it gets easier and easier to keep going! My first story started as bullet points on my Notes app that I then transformed in Google Docs.

2) For now, don’t worry about making things perfect. Drafts are exactly that: drafts of works. Unedited, pure, raw forms of what you have in your head. So just write at your leisure and don’t stress about editing them until you’re close to posting. And even then: it’s okay if there are some errors! Fanfiction (if that’s what you’re wanting to write) is free so if you don’t care about your work being perfect, it doesn’t have to be!

3) Write because it’s fun / Write what makes you happy. The thing that kept me from writing the longest (after a years long hiatus) was the pressure of wondering if people would like what I wrote. Don’t be like me. Learn from me. If you just write what you want/what makes you happy first, I promise it releases so much pressure from your mental and allows you more creative space and freedom. And if you wanna write for fandoms, being yourself is even better. You will find similar creatives and foster your corner of the internet once you start getting your stuff out there in the world.

4) Read, read, read. I learned so much about writing from reading. Whether it’s poetry, fanfiction, fiction, or non-fiction, you’ll start to find styles that resonate with you and observe how people tinker with the language you want to write in!

5) Practice, practice, practice! One, this gets your juices flowing, and two, a whole story can sprout from a single sentence out of a writing exercise. Some things to look for here would be writing prompt lists (there’s a bunch if you search on tumblr/online!), random idea generators, or even writing challenges.

6) Not everything you write has to be posted / It’s okay to accept the fact that some ideas will just stay ideas. Once you start writing, I assure you that you will come up with ideas more than once per day (especially in the shower???) Write them down and follow the inspiration, of course, but don’t feel down if you lose spark for them down the road. I can tell you right now (because I recently checked) that I’ve posted 158,225 words, but have 261,880 words written in total with works still in progress/ideas that may never even make it out of draft format (and I’m a slow writer!!) It’s totally okay. You can always come back to them. And that brings me to my last piece of advice…

7) Write things down. Oh my gosh, I cannot stress this enough: if you have an idea, write it down!! A line of dialogue you wanna work around? Notate it. A whole scene or even a title? Please, put it down somewhere. Even if you have to write it on a napkin, do it and take the dang thing with you! Trust me, I tried the whole “I’ll remember it later” lie, and what happened? I regretted it because, of course, I did not remember it later lol. Better safe than sorry.

That’s what I have for you for now, but if any other writers out there wanna chime in, please do! Have fun starting your adventure and I’m always here to help if you need any other tidbits of advice💛 -Ryen

#on writing #writing #fanfiction #anon #advice #tips #*ryenfictalk #mailbox💌 #long post #*advice

[heavensenthearty]

I get the feeling I'll never really stop shipping Zutara

I mean, I get the feeling I'll never stop shipping any of my ships, but... Zutara is what inspired me to improve myself as a creator.

For starters, the intensity of their canon interactions and how well they fit and developed the story was what inspired me to write in first person-present tense POV, which I had only tried once before and at which I thought I sucked. I used to try copy the style of every good first person POV author that I knew. Rainbow Rowell, Sarah Ney, (if you have another rec, please, feel free to insert.) But the more I wrote Zuko and Katara by myself, the more I realized that trying to copy others was limiting my creativity and if I wanted to become an author for myself — by myself — then pretending to be someone who I wasn't would take me nowhere.

I know I still have some things to polish and others to overcome in this POV, but I've realized how much I love writing it, and I never would have learned that if it didn't fit so well with Zuko and Katara's story.

Second, it was also their canon interactions and personalities and dynamic what made me detach myself from cliché tropes. (I used to be a very cliché reader.) My Wattpad-phase was all about "bad boy/good girl" romances, and better if it had a love triangle. That little girl could have never thought about "morally-coded redeemed villain that actually redeemed for and by himself and is really imperfect at the 'being good' thing but he keeps trying, at that and at being social in general/truly morally gray heroine with one hell of a temper but who still just wants to help and make the world a better place, the two trapped at the center of a war where romance falls into quite a second place in the list of priorities despite their investment into it." It made me think that there are many obstacles fictional couples can face aside from love triangles, and how the plot doesn't have to be the whole love triangle, and about truly multilayered characters that make up for much more relatable and realistic stories. Which takes me to the third point...

I'm not really one person to compare, but seeing Zutara and seeing both of their respective canon pairings, you can really see who outshines who in terms of storytelling and healthiness. That observation and the fantastic Zutara metas around have helped me to grow critic about other pieces of media and pairings, including my own writing.

Fourth. In a way, they've really kept my creative juices flowing because, if I had never thought about all their possible scenarios and AUs... I won't say that it would have never occurred to me, but it certainly would have taken longer for me to come up with so much different stories for many other characters.

Fifth. Due to... circumstances, I sometimes get really discouraged to do art. I've proved that I can fight it, but at times... things do get tough. I always wanted to do fanarts of my favorite characters but — for one reason or the other — I couldn't, and told myself some day I would. Well, when I started actively shipping Zutara, I decided to stop waiting for "that day" to come, I wanted to do it now. And, sometimes, my mind and the world around me are still difficult places for the ideas and the colors to flow fluently, but I'm still fighting it, I'm motivated to do so because I want to see the stories I want to tell.

And maybe one day the fandom will go down, and nobody will read my fanfictions or see my fanart. But I will. And they'll be permanent reminders of everything I'll overcome in order to become a writer and an artist.

They'll be something that I will enjoy, for the rest of my life.

And right now, I'm in one of those sensitive moments when I rather make slow progress and maybe I'm not as productive as I could, but... give me time 😉

#zutara #atla #katara #zuko

[iplaymatchmaker]

hello and good day! i would like a matchup for a3! and ikerev, please! she/her pronouns. you can call me juice, though! hm i think a good description of me personality wise would be im usually cheerful, friendly, childish but i tend to hide a lot of my negative feelings and overthink quite a lot. towards others i'm always curious about the littlest details of someone's hobbies or interest and sometimes i talk more than i listen. love literature and things like fashion or games (1)

Hello, thanks for requesting juice! Sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy it! I was pretty excited to write a match up for a3! since it’s been living rent free in my head for the last few weeks. I got a little carried away with the last prompt cause it was so fun to write, but I hope you like it! Also, the ikerev one might take some time but I’ll try to not take too long. Have fun!

I match you with

Tsuzuru!

The two of you first meet after you watch one of their plays, “A Clockwork Heart.” When you realize that the lead and writer is a classmate of yours from college you can’t help but approach him a few days later to discuss the play further.

He seems self conscious at first but quickly opens up as the two of you discuss his script and before you know it one conversation has turned into an in-depth discussion over lunch.

After that first encounter, both of you start talking more often, quickly growing closer. Tsuzuru appreciates your cheerful attitude, making it easy for him to be comfortable around you.

Considering your love for literature, you often help him brainstorm for new ideas, always looking forward to seeing how he brings it to life on stage.

It is easy for you to fit in with the rest of the boys from Mankai, despite their constant prying on your relationship with Tsuzuru. After all the time the two of you spend together, it is no surprise when none of the boys (except Azami) bat an eyelash when you make it official, after a lot of back and forth between friendship and romance.

Prompt: Bonding

“The reason S was created in the first place was because Luke needed a companion. It’s tragic that he was the one who left him in the end.”

“Well, yes, but he also taught him to open up to people, insuring that he wouldn’t be alone when he was gone.”

You and Tsuzuru had been discussing the end of his latest play “A Clockwork Heart” for a while, arguing over whether or not the ending was tragic. When you approached him to offer your praise for his work earlier that day you hadn’t been expecting him to engage in your opinions on a play he wrote, but he was actually deeply invested in the conversation, despite the matter at hand being trivial to the actual substance of the story.

“He couldn’t have known though. He also put his own wishes aside to protect him. That alone makes the ending tragic.” You vividly remembered the tears you had shed when the show reached its climax, a result of both his script and his acting.

“It depends on your idea of what the ending was. S was a machine, so as long as Luke was alive they could meet again, when it was safe for the both of them. That makes the ending-“

Ring Ring

You almost chucked at the generic sound his phone made as it vibrated.

“Give me a sec.” he moved away from the bench before answering. It wasn’t long before he returned, a flush expression on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had kept you for so long. I actually need to get going.” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling shyly. It was only then that you noticed what time it was.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you for that long!” Now you were both flushed, the realization dawning on you that you had spent two hours talking.

“I-it’s fine. Um, we can continue this tomorrow, if you’d like?” you were surprised he actually wanted to talk again, a smile spreading over your face.

“Definitely. “

“Okay. See you then!” he waved as he ran off while simultaneously trying to dial someone, resulting in him almost falling on his face. You looked forward to tomorrow.

After that first encounter, you continued to meet during lunch to talk about other works, quickly realizing you had a similar taste in books and movies. It was an easy transition, going from acquaintances to friends.

“How’s the summer troupe’s play coming along?” It was easy to tell that he had been losing sleep again from the – almost – comical black circle under his eyes, but you asked anyway, hoping that you could offer some help.

“I know what I want to write, the words are just refusing to form and settle themselves on the page.” The frustration was evident on his face as he tried to put the pieces flying around his head in order. You tried to think of a way to help him but you knew that he needed to figure this out on his own.

“Come on.” You forcefully pulled him out of his chair, carefully shutting his laptop.

“W-wait. Where are we going?” you pushed him along, despite his protesting.

“Trust me.” You flashed him your biggest smile before setting of, only mildly aware that your hand was still around his wrist.

“The movies?” he seemed confused over what your objective was but you were confident it would help him out of his slump.

“Yes. Come on, I’ll even get us popcorn!” you were beaming as you led him inside.

“What are we watching?” Tsuzuru, finally resigned to his fate, flipped through the leaflet, looking at the moves currently playing.

“Your choice, I’m fine with whatever.” You hurried to the bar to pick up snacks, leaving him at the ticket booth.

“Look at those effects.”

“The acting is top notch.”

Tsuzuru had been so immersed in the movie he seemed to have forgotten all about his tiredness. When you exited the theatre you could practically see the gears turning in his head.”

“It’s a very different take on pirates than the summer troupe’s play, but if I exaggerate the characters even more then there would be great opportunity for comedy.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you observed him, completely lost in his own mind.

“So I take it the creative juices are flowing again?” he looked back at you, as if seeing you clearly for the first time in days.

“Yes! Thank you!” He put his arms around you, too far lost in his excitement to feel any awkwardness.

“I-I have to go write! I’ll see you tomorrow.” He continued shouting thank you over his shoulder as he run off with newfound energy. You expected you wouldn’t see him the next day, considering he’d probably be passed out by then, but you smiled anyway.

“See you later!”

Prompt : Cinderella:

“So, you’re thinking of doing Cinderella for the next play?” You and Tsuzuru were hanging out in his room, taking full advantage of Masumi’s absence that weekend.

“Yeah… I’m not sure how to go about it though. Everyone in the Spring Troupe agreed that I should be lead this time around but I just don’t see myself in the shoes of a prince… Itaru would probably be a better fit for the role.” You couldn’t help throwing a pillow his way.

“Hey! What was that for?” You sat up a little straighter, tempted to glare at him until he picked up on your annoyance.

“I can definitely picture you in the role of the prince.” You cleared your throat before switching to your best narrator voice.

A long, long time ago there lived a boy and a girl. They were the best of friends when they were children. The boy would often sneak out to meet with her and they would play for hours. But their happiness would not last long.

You see, the girl grew up to be the maid of one of the less-fortunate royal families in the kingdom. She had been forced into that position by her father’s latest wedding. It would also turn out to be his last, for he died a few years later, leaving her in the care of a wicked stepmother.

One the other hand, the boy grew up to be the most charming prince in the land. The women fawned over him and he always had everything his heart could desire.”

“I’m literally none of those things.”

“Fine then.”

The prince was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of himself and never asked for help. He constantly worried his friends over his health but they loved him anyway.

“That’s not any better…”

“Shh, let me continue the story.”

Their difference in class ripped the two friends apart, putting an end to their relationship. While they weren’t allowed to meet again, they promised to never forget about each other. To keep that promise, the made matching bracelets and agreed to never take them off until they could meet again.

“Friendship bracelets? Who does that?”

“They were kids! Would you have preferred rings?”

“Wouldn’t those basically be promise rings?”

“I’m coming up with this on the spot, give me a break!”

That bracelet was what gave the girl the strength to continue living, despite her struggles.

When news of a ball arrived at the estate, her step-sisters were quick to start preparations, eager to have a chance at the prince’s hand in marriage. The girl was simply happy at the prospect of seeing her friend again.

When her family found out she was planning to attend the ball, they locked her in the cellar, not willing to risk any competition. The girl wept and wept, until suddenly a kind seeming lady appeared in front of her.

“Isn’t this just the movie?”

“Give it a second!”

The lady promised she would help her get to the ball if that was what she wished. Despite her suspicions, the girl earnestly declared that all she wanted was to see her friend again. And so the kind woman flicked her wrist and the rags the girl had been wearing were replace by a rich ball gown, paired with a glass slippers. The girl thanked her again and again before heading off in search of her lost friend.

“She doesn’t warn her about the time limit?”

“There’s no curfew here, it’s a stupid conflict anyway.”

You couldn’t contain the excitement and adrenaline that flowed through you as you went up the steps of the grand palace. You hadn’t been here since you were a child, when the king’s father still allowed you to visit, and childhood memories flooded your mind. It was difficult to keep your nerves at a reasonable level as you approached the guards at the front gate. By the time you had arrived at the palace, most of the guests were already inside, so you were completely alone when you handed the invitation, hoping the witch had done her work well.

“Enjoy your evening.” They smiled before urging you to step inside. A sense of awe filled you as you walked through the somewhat familiar halls, remembering all the places you and Tsuzuru would hide from the servants, before his title meant anything to you.

You weren’t sure you remembered the way to the main hall, so you followed the noise, hoping you could make your way there.

When you finally stood outside what seemed to be the entrance, you took a few deep breaths before walking forward, determined to see your friend again. When you stepped though the door you quickly realized that the door wasn’t the room’s main entrance, but the top of the grand staircase. Dread filled you as everyone’s eyes fell on you. If it wasn’t for the railing you thought you have fainted right then and there. You breathed in, allowing you hand to wrap around the bracelet the two of you had made so long ago, letting the warm feelings it carried spread through you.

You bowed once before making your way down the stairs, hoping you wouldn’t trip on your dress and make a fool of yourself before the night even started.

The moment you were off the last step, your eyes fell on your step-mother, eyeing you with absolute envy and disgust. You hoped the mask would be enough to conceal your identity.

You walked around the room for a bit, keeping to the less populated areas, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tsuzuru, disappointed to find that he was nowhere to be found.

“Please let this not be for nothing…”

You were about to make your way to the balcony, but a swarm of guests was suddenly in your path, dancing to the waltz the band had just started playing. You frantically looked around, searching for a way out when two arms wrapped around you, pulling you along with the rest of the dancers.

“I guess you’re my partner?” the face of the man that stood before you made your jaw drop. You had thought of so many things to say, but now that Tsuzuru was standing before you, the words seemed to catch in your throat.

“So, uh, are you having fun?” he was as awkward as you remembered. Something about the familiarity filled you with a sense of calm. I found him.

“I am now.” It was hard to contain the smile quickly spreading around your face.

“Actually I was-“that was when it was time to switch partners. When you felt his hand slip from yours, panic flooded through you. No… I didn’t have the chance to tell him.

As he pulled his hand away, his fingers brushed the bracelet on your wrist, eyes widening as he was whisked away by another partygoer, realization evident in his features. You tried to get closer, but were quickly taken away by another guest. Your eyes landed on Tsuzuru a few times but the hall was too crowded. It was almost suffocating. You took the first chance to slip out on the balcony, eager to get away from the crowds.

You stood at the railing, letting the air cool down your heated face. He had seen you, but you weren’t sure he would care enough to search. Negative thoughts occupied your mind as you gazed at the land beyond. Maybe this was foolish… He probably barely remembers me… He’s a prince after all. He was more important matter to attend to than a peasant he used to spend his free time with. You felt tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your own loneliness catching up with you.

“Please don’t cry!” You were shocked to find Tsuzuru standing a few feet away from you, his face flushed and his knees bent. He must’ve been running.

“You’re the girl from back then, aren’t you?” he glanced down at your wrist, pulling up his own sleeve to reveal a bracelet identical to yours.

“Y-you kept it.” Your voice cracked, barely audible in the midst of the ongoing celebrations.

“Of course I did! It meant a lot to me.” The words seemed to call to something inside you and so you let the tears fall.

“W-what did I do? Please don’t cry!” he took a step closer, still unsure of what boundaries existed between you.

“I-I can’t help it. I’m just so happy!” you wrapped your arms around him, not caring who saw you. All that mattered in that moment was that the two of you were reunited at last.

“I missed you.” You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was crying too, by the way his heart beat against your, the way his hands shook, still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Year’s worth of loneliness and regret spilled out of the both of you in a single moment.

You stayed like that for quite some time, allowing the relief to wash over you. When you looked at each other again, you couldn’t help but laugh at your state. You knew the scene must look ridiculous to any outside spectators, but none of them mattered. It felt like you were alone in the world, no barriers between you. Your class didn’t matter. You were just a boy and a girl who had been reunited.

“ The king was skeptical at first, knowing a commoner queen wouldn’t create any new alliances, but he could see the love his son had for the girl. And so they married. It’s said that the pair practically run down the stairs of the palace after their wedding, eager to get to their honeymoon, their laughter echoing through the streets.”

“That’s an ending befitting a prince Muku reads about in manga… I still don’t see where I fit into this… ”

“Fine. As they descended the staircase, the prince fell on his ass, causing even more laughter from the girl. A moment she would never let him forget.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the earnest look on Tsuzuru’s face. He may be clumsy, but he has always been kind.

“It will need a lot modifications, especially considering the fact that none of us can exactly pull off female roles, but it could work.” At some point through the story Tsuzuru seemed to have pulled out a notebook, in which he was now scribbling away.

“Are you seriously taking notes?” he was still focused on the story, not letting the inspiration go to waste.

“Of course I am. You’re brilliant!” he pulled you in for a kiss, taking you completely by surprise.

“You’re the best.” He turned back to his note taking, leaving you with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

“You too.”

And they lived happily ever after.

#a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! tsuzuru #tsuzuru minagi #a3! matchups

[rpgmgames]

March’s Featured Game: acai cOrner

DEVELOPER(S): moca & Mitty ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: RPG, Adventure, Surreal SUMMARY: acai cOrner is about Mizuki, someone who has fallen into the sewers and who happens to find their favorite electric guitar! Upon obtaining the guitar, Mizuki turns into a magical girl who must defend herself against spooky sewer creatures using the guitar's magical powers.

Download the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *moca: Hi, I'm moca, a Starbucks barista aspiring to be a writer and game developer. I have been making RPG Maker games for about six years now, with my first two projects being a Pokémon fan-game and a Corpse Party fan-game. Those two happen to be my two favorite franchises as well! I have also created the RPG Maker game MOMOKA (IGMC 2018). I have founded a group called 'Team Shibu!' dedicated to making horror games! Our current project is a RPG Maker survival horror game named 'Katharsis'.

*Mitty: Hey there, I'm Mitty! I've been working with Moca on several games for a while now, helping with mostly graphics! Please support him, as he is very kind and hardworking!! I'm also the main developer of a game called "Marinette", so I hope you'll check that one out too, when the demo is released!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *moca: acai cOrner is an experimental spooky RPG Maker game that only uses 4 colors! You are a magical girl with a just-as-magical electric guitar that you use to fend off spooky sewer slimes and other weird enemies you find in the surreal sewer system. It's half exploration and half RPG battles. What inspired me to create acai cOrner initially was to actually get myself back into the groove of making games again. I had just recently came back from a hiatus and found myself having trouble getting back into the development of 'Katharsis'. That's when I decided to make a short, experimental game to get the juices flowing.

How long did you work on your project? *moca: acai cOrner was finished in just about under a month!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *moca: I had always wanted to make a Yume Nikki-like game and thought this was the perfect opportunity to try. So for the more surreal parts of acai cOrner, I took inspiration from Yume Nikki and a Homestuck random planet generator. Gameplay wise though, I took inspiration from a RPG Maker game called Ghost Suburb 0! I really loved how unique it was, especially with the timer and no dialogue aspect. I knew I wanted to do something with a timer, so I tried a rogue-like approach with the gameplay.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *moca: If you played any of my previous projects, you know that acai cOrner is vastly different than anything that I have ever done. I'm so used to using words to describe the violence in my games, so when it came to making the story, I had a lot of trouble. It wasn't until I looked deeper into why people like these types of games that I had realized that people like to interpret the story on their own, guided by exploration, to enjoy these games. After that, I let loose a bit and made something more open-ended. Another challenge was the difficulty. I was the only one playtesting the game, and since I knew the game front and back, and had no trouble getting the ending. That's why when I sent out demos to friends, I was really discouraged to hear that the experience was mostly frustrating and rage quitting-inducing haha. I worked closely with their feedback and made changes accordingly to make the experience less frustrating but still difficult. *Mitty: I think I was going through a weird artblock during the development of the game, so for some of the illustrations and backdrops for each area's fights, Moca sketched out the basic idea of what it could look like, and I just put my spin on it! It made the work much easier and faster!

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *moca: Well, the game was meant to be short so there wasn't room for any big changes. Sure there are a couple gameplay changes and enemy tweaks, but not anything mindblowing. I added in the idea of making four surreal worlds kinda last minute, if that counts, haha.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *moca: In the beginning, it was just me! I didn't think I was gonna need any outside help since this was supposed to be a relatively easy project to release, but the further in development I got, the more I realized the game needed pizazz. The four color limitation wasn't enough for my lack of graphical talent. That's when I contacted Mitty about helping with the games battle backdrops and sprite animations! She is also a member of Team Shibu!, but we have collabed together even before that. Her art really made the project shine and I enjoy working with them on games! *Mitty: Moca contacted me, and I wanted to help! We are working together on another game called Katharsis, so we are quite familiar with each other. I like working with other people, especially if I'm not in the lead, it releases a bit of the pressure I feel sometimes ahaha

What is the best part of developing a game? *moca: To me, it's seeing everything come together and just... working exactly the way you envisioned it. As a game developer, you section the game off into parts to make development much more organized and faster but seeing it all come together in the end. Pure bliss *chefs kiss*. *Mitty: I like a bit of everything, but currently I've been enjoying animating and spritework, as well as map assets' designs a little more than usual!

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *moca: Mm... not really! I have an idea of what the engine can do, so when I do go out of my way to player other RPG Maker games, it's usually for writing inspiration rather than gameplay inspiration. Ghost Suburb 0 is something that I accidentally stumbled upon and immediately fell in love with it the minute I played it haha. (Fun fact: the developer of Ghost Suburb 0 is apart of Team Shibu! and is in charge of monster design!)

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *moca: There is a rat in the game that is internally called 'Ratthew' who leads you into a funky room. I relate them the most. *Mitty: I relate to the land sharks the most on a spiritual level. They are pretty much confused beans, and that's very relatable.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *moca: I wish I added more random spooky events and trap rooms. But the game was also supposed to be short and I knew that if I kept adding more and more things, development was never gonna end haha.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *moca: Well, by the time this interview comes out, there should be a new update for the game. The update should include 100% custom music by a talented composer, and a nerf in difficulty. As for sequels, who knows! The next time you see acai cOrner may be in 3D.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *moca: Definitely the fan reaction! The satisfaction of seeing your work being noticed by people and actually enjoying makes me happy. It's also the relief of just... finishing something! *Mitty: For this particular project I was obviously looking forward to seeing what people said about the little animations and such ahaha! I also was curious about the reaction to the timed difficulty mechanic, I had never seen anything like that before Moca presented it to me, so I had no idea on what people's feedback would be.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *moca: How people will handle the difficulty. The game isn't supposed to be completed on your first playthrough, but in 2-3 playthroughs. There are rooms and places that are meant to waste your time that you should ideally skip the more you play. By later playthroughs, you should be shaving time and be better. I understand that it's not handled as best I could, but I think the experience should still be challenging and hopefully fun! *Mitty: I was a little conflicted on the timed mechanic, I loved it because it's pretty original and helps set an interesting athmosphere of worry and unease, and also seems to tell a bit of the vague story; and at the same time I don't like it much because I prefer more story-driven games and the vagueness mixed with the mechanic feels different from what I'm used to playing! I think it's more of a personal taste kind of thing, it was an experimental jam game, after all!

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *moca: Take it easy! Take short breaks throughout development. And most importantly, have fun. If it's a hobby and it's making you overly stressed, just take a step back!

Question from last month's featured dev @ressurflection: What would you say is the weakest part of your game development? *moca: Procrastination. I'm so bad at sticking to my own schedule, it's something that I try to keep in check when working with a team especially.

We mods would like to thank moca & Mitty for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out acai cOrner if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpg maker #acai corner #acai corner game #rpg maker games #pixel games #indie games #gotm #game of the month #march #march 2020 #2020 #moca #mitty #interview #needles

[septembercfawkes]

100+ Questions to Help Evaluate Your Story

Recently, I started putting together a list of questions for myself to consider when evaluating and editing manuscripts--just to get my brain juices flowing. It wasn't until I finished that I realized it might be beneficial for others too.

I'm sure there are topics and questions that I didn't include that are worth considering. And when I edit a manuscript, I focus more on tailoring what I talk about, to that specific manuscript. I also don't necessarily consider all these subject for every edit--again, it depends on the manuscript, the writer, and what kind of edit we decided on.

However, I think this list covers most of the major topics. If you don't understand what the questions are asking, or want to learn more about a topic, I have addressed all these things on my blog, so you can head over to the writing tip index and read until your heart is content (for convenience, I've also put a lot of these links in this article).

One thing: I haven't yet posted the Save the Cat! story structure (it is forthcoming), so in the structure sections, I have terminology that references that, which you won't yet find on here.

Again, keep in mind these are questions to help get me thinking and evaluating--not necessarily "test" questions that strictly tell me whether something is "good" or "bad."

Setting & Worldbuilding

(worth noting is that while a lot of the questions in this section work for any story, some are specific to speculative fiction, which is what I specialize in.)

Did I know where and when the scenes took place?

Was there variety in the setting? Too much repetition? Enough contrast?

Did it draw too much attention to itself at the wrong time? Or not enough at the right time?

Could I picture and experience it?

Did it make sense? In the world? And its purpose?

Would I want to go there? vs. Is it intriguing?

Did the world and societies make sense? Were they believable?

Did having other worlds or societies benefit the story (were they utilized in the plot, or could the story have easily taken place in our world or day)?

Were there parts of the world or society that we really should have seen and experienced that we didn't? Did we experience them enough?

Are there societal conflicts?

Do we get a sense of history about the setting and world? An immediate future?

Did the magic and world follow its own rules?

Was the magic soft or hard or in between? Was it used and addressed appropriately in the story?

Did the world or magic bring in something we haven’t seen before? Or give us a new spin on something familiar? Was it cliché?

Does it connect into something the readers somewhat understand, so that it appeals to wonder more powerfully?

If it is soft magic, does it cause problems for the characters?

If it’s hard magic, does it help solve problems?

Are the costs and limitations of the magic utilized and explored? When appropriate, do we understand its boundaries?

Is the magic utilized in the plot and conflicts?

Related Articles:

5 Most Common Mistakes with Setting

Maximizing or Minimizing Your Setting

Creating Fictional Species and Societies

Tips on Creating Your Own Fantastic Beasts

Sanderson's 3 Laws of Magic Systems

Writing (Magical) Items: Weapons, Attire, Potions,Tools, Steeds

Appealing to Wonder Powerfully in the Modern Age

Breaking Writing Rules Right: "Only One Impossibility"

Creating Fictional Languages (Conlangs)

Characters

Were the protagonist and other key players round/complex characters?

Do they contrast each other?

Do the key characters arc? How so? Does it fit thematically?

Did side characters have their own lives? Or did their existence only revolve around the protagonist?

Was the protagonist likeable? Or at least tolerable? Or interesting?

Did they show moments of vulnerability?

Was the antagonist formidable enough?

Are the characters unique enough? Not generic (unless that's the point)?

Could I picture them?  

Did I know their wants? Their fears?

Did I sympathize with them? Care about them?

Do they have a past history? Plans for the future?

Did the characters struggle and suffer?

Related Articles:

Complex Characters and the Power of Contradiction

Dramatica's Character Archetypes

Making Unlikeable People into Likeable Characters

Character Traits that Hike Up Tension

Creating Stunning Side Characters (and Why They Matter)

Pairing Behaviors with Odd Demeanors for Originality

"The Emotional Range of a Teaspoon": Your Characters' Spectrum of Emotions

Considering the Irrationality of Your Characters

How to Pick the Right Character Names

Fixing the Mary Sue Character in Your Story

The "Twins as Clones" Writing Epidemic

The Passive Value Heroine

Writing Extreme Characteristics

Never Confuse Characterization for Character

What You Need to Know Most About Character Voice

10 Methods to Make Your Characters Likeable

How to Write Excellent Introspection

Breaking Writing Rules Right: "Don't Use Filter Words"  

Crafting a Body Language Voice

Helps for Writing Children

3 Redemptive Character Types

Working with a Large Cast of Characters

Conflicts

What types of conflicts were present? Were all five types in the story (person vs. self, person vs. person, person vs. society, person vs. nature, person vs. God)?

Was any one type underutilized? Should one be present that isn’t?

Is there variety?

Are the conflicts significant? Do we care about them?

Will the conflicts propel the story forward?

Were conflicts resolved too soon?

Or too easily?

Related Articles:

Coming up with a Plot (from scratch)

Are Your Conflicts Significant?

The Struggle is Real: Make Your Protagonist Suffer for Success!

Keeping Conflicts Unresolved

The Oft Forgotten Conflict and How to Make it Work: Man Vs. God 

Plot and Structure

Did the story have a clear beginning, middle, and end?

Did it escalate?

Did it utilize cause and effect throughout the plotline?

Beginning

Was I introduced to the key characters, a significant conflict, and the setting?

Did the beginning establish a sense of normalcy before plot point one? At least in comparison to what will happen after plot point one?

Were the character arc and theme introduced?

Did it hook me? (By getting me to look forward or by curiosity)

Were there stakes?

If there was a prologue, what kind? Did it contribute to the story appropriately?

Was there too much exposition?

Did I care about what was going on?

Did it set the tone?

Was there foreshadowing?

Wants and fears established?

Did we look back on the past too much? Instead of focusing forward?

Consider: Orphan state, Opening Image, Ordinary World, Call to Adventure, Refusal of Call, Debate, Meeting the Mentor, Crossing the Threshold, Plot Point One, Act I

Middle

Did the conflicts and stakes escalate?

Did they build off Act I? (cause and effect)

Did the story broaden or deepen or do both?

Was the theme explored and questioned?

Were there pinch points? Did they apply pressure on the protagonist (directly or indirectly)?

Did the protagonist “react” and then become more “proactive”? (Wanderer to Warrior)

Did the context shift at the midpoint?

Was the midpoint a false win/lose?

Were true friends and enemies made or revealed? Along with any of their abilities or special skills?

Did the protagonist have to battle inner demons?

Were obstacles significant and overcome?

Are the characters growing and changing?

Consider: B story, pinch points, midpoint, Tests, Allies, Enemies, Fun & Games, Approach the Inmost Cave, The Ordeal, Bad Guys Close in, Plot Point 2, All is Lost, Reward, Act II

End

Did escalation continue into the ending? Broadening, deepening, and stakes?

Did inner demons rise again? Were they defeated?

Was the hero the most active? And if not, did he/she do something most significant?

Did anything new enter the story? If so, was it problematic? Or did it work?

Did the hero need saving? Hopefully not, but if so, did it work?

Were heroic deaths and sacrifices merited?

Was the antagonist its biggest and baddest self?

Was there a showdown with it and the hero?

Would the ending be better with more callbacks?

Was the thematic statement proved and validated?

Was there a twist, surprise, or devastating cost?

Were expectations exceeded?

Were promises kept?

Was there a dues ex machina?

Were opposites crossed? The biggest external problem with the biggest internal problem?

Was the right ending model used?

Did the denouement validate changes and establish a new normal?

Were important loose ends addressed?

Did cause and effect make sense? Did Act II feed into Act III?

Consider: The Road Back, Climax, Resurrection, Return with the Elixir, Denouement, Final Image

Scene & Summary

Did the author know when to write a scene vs. a summary?

Did the writer know how to structure a scene?

How to structure a longer passage of summary?

Did every scene contain a change? If not, did that scene still play an important role?

Were any scenes weak? Should any be made stronger?

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Theme

Was the theme topic clear?

Did the character arc exemplify the thematic statement?

Was the story focused on the theme topic? Was there anything that took away from that focus?

Did the character cast contribute to the theme?

Did we start with a false thematic statement and end on a true one?

Was the theme questioned and explored through the middle?

Was it validated by the end?

Was it cliché?

Did the story offer a new insight that hasn’t been seen before?

Or did it exceptionally re-validated a truth already known to the audience?

Does it add purpose to the story? Leave the audience with a point?

If the theme was not illustrated by the main character’s arc, did the main character prove it true, despite being tested about it?

Was it universal enough?

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Pacing

Did the overall pacing serve the story? Anything that went too fast or too slow?

Were there any scenes or scene sequences where the pacing didn’t work well?

Did hopes, fears, tension, stakes, and hooks feed into the pacing well enough?

How did descriptions affect pacing positively or negatively?

Were significant scenes brushed over too quickly (or worse, left off-page)? Were unimportant parts summarized or dealt with briefly (or appropriately off page or assumed)?

Were there action scenes? Did technicality slow them down too much?

Were there lulls at appropriate moments?

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Tension, Stakes, Hooks

Did the story have enough tension (most should have more tension than conflict)?

Could the audience anticipate possible outcomes (to get invested in what could happen)? Could they sometimes anticipate multiple possible outcomes at once?

Did the text regularly “look forward” by getting the audience to hope or fear for significant possible outcomes? Did it utilized both hope (positive) and fear (negative) to get the audience to turn pages? Did it use curiosity or intrigue?

Was potential cause and effect utilized, so that, on occasion, the audience could glimpse a potential “domino” effect?

Were stakes significant? Did they have broad, far-reaching potential consequences or deep, personal potential consequences?

Were decisions and dangers imminent?

Were hooks utilized? Were they worded to best effect?

Did the writer tease what could happen without spoiling it?

Did the text use “If . . . then . . .” statements (implied or directly)?

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Context

Did the narrator/viewpoint character explain/imply enough of what was happening for the audience to follow and understand the text, tension, conflicts, and stakes?

Did the viewpoint character provide emotional context, for the audience? Did they validate (or at least acknowledge) what emotions should typically be felt?

Did the writer appropriately discern what should be context, and what should be subtext? Did context avoid becoming subtext?

Did the audience know where and when they were, what was happening, and why it mattered?

Did the audience follow and understand the story?

Did the narrator/viewpoint character add further meaning and insight into the scenes? Did their perspective add significance? Did their viewpoint matter?

Did the narrator/viewpoint character provide the appropriate tone for the scenes?

If there were teasers—did the audience eventually get context for them?

Was there too much context? Was it bloated? And making the audience feel like they are being treated as unintelligent? Too much “hand-holding”?

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Subtext

Was the story bigger than what was on the page?

Was implication used to let the audience draw the appropriate conclusions?

Did the audience become a participator, rather than a spectator, of the story, because they were able to read between lines?

Was implication strong enough to allow us to come to the right conclusions (most of the time, when appropriate)?

Was implication so strong, it was annoying and drew attention to itself?

Did subtext touch on characters’ pasts and hidden behaviors/motives?

Did dialogue have subtext?

Were the gaps between contradictions related to subtext appropriate?

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Audience Experience and Appeal

Did the story elicit emotions from the audience? If so, how powerfully?

Can the audience relate to the characters? If not, are they intriguing instead?

Does the audience care?

Is there a variety of characters?

Are the conflicts and themes universal enough?

Did the story deliver on the experience promised (and according to the genre)?

Was the story satisfying?

Did the audience experience the setting powerfully?

Did the story hit a variety of emotions, and the appropriate emotions?

Viewpoint

Was the viewpoint consistent? (1st, 2nd, 3rd, omniscient OR in how it is handled)?

Was there head hopping? If so, was it intentional and controlled and consistent?

Was the viewpoint choice the best for the story?

Was the viewpoint character the same as the protagonist? If not, why not?

If there are multiple viewpoint characters, was the best character chosen for each scene?

Did having that viewpoint character be the viewpoint character, contribute to meaning and insight and audience experience in the scene?

Does the story utilize point of view penetration? And go to the right depths at the right times? Or does the story zoom in and out randomly?

How well was introspection handled? Was there too much? Did it add to the story? Or only tell us things we already knew?

Did introspection focus on the past too much and the future not enough?

Were there minor viewpoint errors?

Were the prose infused with the viewpoint character’s worldview, attitude, and feelings? Did it tell us more about that character?

Were “filter words” overused?

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Relationships

Did the characters in significant relationships foil each other in relevant ways?

Did they have (or grow) a sense of history? Did their relationship evolve and change?

Did we get a sense of how well they knew each other?

Did they share vulnerable moments?

Did they grow together?

Make sacrifices for each other?

Show some form of affection for each other?

Have an appropriate “meet cute” or first meeting (and ideally, one that is specific and unique to them)?

Are there hardships, weaknesses, hurts, difficulties in the relationship?

Do they develop their own culture (inside jokes, what’s acceptable vs. not acceptable, mottoes and lifestyles)?

Do they work together?

Are they too much alike? Get along too perfectly? Share too many of the same ideas?

Dialogue

Did the dialogue use subtext? Did it say more than what was on the page?

Was it indirect, especially to hold tension?

And when it was direct, was it during the appropriate time and topic to release tension?

Did it sound realistic?

Was there maid-and-butler dialogue?

Did the story rely on dialogue too much to convey information, exposition, and context to the audience?

Were characters too direct in expressing their intense, true feelings?

Did key characters have their own unique character voice?

Was there circuitry in dialogue exchanges, or did the characters simply respond to each other?

Was the dialogue generic?

Were lines called back?

Anything quotable?

Were dialogue tags and modifiers appropriate to the dialogue? Did the dialogue itself do most of the work, instead of the tags and modifiers?

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Descriptions

Did the story regularly appeal to the senses (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste)?

Were modifiers (such as adjectives, adverbs) reined in and controlled? And utilized to their best?

Could I picture what was being described accurately?

Were there enough descriptions?

Did the descriptions contribute to the story, tone, and pacing?

Were the descriptions purple prose?

Did the descriptions bring a new perspective to view something?

Did the writer pick the right details to describe?

Were the descriptions too stagnant?

Were significant things given more descriptions? And the insignificant, less?

Were there character tags?

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Blocking

Did the story utilize blocking?

Could I picture how the characters interacted with the setting and each other?

Was the blocking consistent?

Was it used to emphasize points and emotions?

And did it impact pacing appropriately?

Could I follow the blocking?

Was it specific without being too detailed?

Was there spatial vagueness?

Did it convey character?

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Tone

Was the appropriate tone used for the scene/story?

Were there “tone deaf” moments?

Could tone have been stronger in certain parts?

Did it switch inappropriately mid-scene?

Was in unrefined?

Was there enough variety of tone?

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Emotion

What are the major emotional draws?

Was there variety in the emotions felt? Was there contrast?

Were emotions rendered empathetic or sympathetically? Was each approach used at the right time?

Were any of the emotions too sentimental?

Was there any melodrama?

Were the most powerful emotional moments rendered in deep POV?

Were raw emotions and subdued emotions used at the appropriate times?

Did I feel like I was experiencing those emotions?

Did the story have an emotional impact on me? How strong or weak was the impact?

Did the writers use the same emotional indicators over and over? (“Smiling” and “laughing” whenever someone is happy, etc.)

Was too much emotional tension released through the characters, so that the audience couldn’t feel it? (example: characters crying too much and at the wrong times, releasing that tension so the audience doesn’t have it.)

Could the emotional experience have been more powerful by crossing opposites?

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Style, Flow, Clarity

Was the style at a professional level?

Did the prose flow properly?

How accurately did the writer communicate what was intended to the audience? Was there enough clarity?

Was the writer specific?

Did the writer understand how to start and end a scene properly?

Did style and flow contribute to pacing appropriately?

Was it easy to read?

Was sentence structure utilized to best effect? Was it varied?

Was punctuation proper?

Grammar and tense accurate?

Any continuity errors?

Was showing and telling used appropriately?

Was the writing vague?

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Wordiness

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Misc.

Was the title effective?

The chapter lengths appropriate?

Were there any believability issues?  

Did the text work off and address probability over reality?

How original were the ideas?

If writing rules were broken, was it to great effect?

If there were flashbacks, were they used to the best of their ability? Were they overused?

Is the writer satisfied with the work?

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#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writing help #writing reference #writing advice #writing a book #author #editor #fanfic #evaluation

[ughseoks]

the story of us | ksj

— pairing; seokjin x reader

— genre; angst, slight fluff in beginning & end

— word count; 1.6k

— warnings; angst, small fight, two stubborn dummies refusing to communicate properly

— summary; you thought that the story of you and jin was one that had a fairytale ending, but a miscommunication leaves you scrambling to ensure it doesn’t end in tragedy instead.

「based on “the story of us” by taylor swift」

— masterlist —

From the moment you met, you hoped that one day, you’d be able to tell your kids the story of you and Jin. You’d be able to recount how his cheeks tinted pink when your gazes locked, sparks flying instantly; how you crossed the room to talk to the mystery boy with broad shoulders, and a feeling of right tugged deep in your gut.

Your relationship blossomed from the first hello, and before you knew it, you and Jin were attached at the hip. Friends and family would always tell you that the two of you were “the lucky ones,” and you couldn’t deny it. How you’d managed to find Jin amongst the sea of people at your university still left you clueless, but one thing was for sure: you had no intention of ever letting him go.

It’s funny how in just one week, everything can change.

Glancing at your phone, you pushed open the door to the library. Your first instinct was to search the room for the tall, elegant creature that was Jin— but you stopped yourself short. Just a week prior, everyone knew that your place was the spot next to him, but now, you were searching the room for an empty seat. The large building was filled to the brim with students studying, sleeping, and frantically completing almost-due assignments. Casting your gaze to the floor, you plopped down at the nearest vacant table, pulling out your laptop to continue writing your literary analysis.

After a few minutes of staring at the halfway-completed document, you sighed in frustration, running a hand through your tousled hair. Normally, you were a quick writer, the words flowing from your fingertips with ease; but now, you couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

As much as you hated to admit it, the source of your distraction was Jin. The argument that the two of you had three nights prior was the only thing you could focus on, and it was affecting both your work and school life way more than you’d like to admit. Resting your chin on the palm of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memories begging for your attention.

“Lately, I don’t even know what page you’re on!” you yelled, throwing up your hands in frustration, “It’s like you aren’t even you anymore. What happened?”

Recently, you’d felt like something new had formed between you. Something more than being just friends. But, clearly, you were wrong. Jin had grown distant from you; he was staying out into the late hours of the night, ignoring your texts and calls, and showing up to school with the darkest under eye bags you’d ever seen. You didn’t know if it was because he sensed a change in your feelings for him or some other underlying issue, but what hurt you the most was that he was choosing to distance himself rather than confide in you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jin retorted, desperation and panic seeping into his tone, “I’m still the same Jin you’ve always known. Nothing has changed!”

“You know that’s a lie,” you growled, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I can tell when you’re lying. Just tell me what’s going on!”

He clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from your fiery eyes.

“Is…” your voice dropped to a soft tone, emotion causing it to shake slightly, “Is it because of me?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, still not looking at you.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed it,” your voice had developed a bitter undertone to it; after all, you couldn’t believe he was denying what had been happening between the two of you. “You and I… I see us as being… more than just friends. Do you not feel the same way? Is that why you’ve been distant?”

Jin’s eyes blew wide open in shock, but it was only a moment before his face turned stone cold and the answer that you’d been dreading floated past his lips with an insulting level of ease.

“Yeah, it is.”

Miscommunication leads to fallouts. You and Jin were both well aware of that. But some invisible wall kept the two of you divided, and no matter how many things you wished he knew, the wall you’d erected seemed to grow taller and thicker each day. It stood tall and proud, guarding your already fragile heart from being dealt the final blow that would inevitably shatter it into a million, glittering Jin-shaped pieces.

Letting out a groan, you slammed your laptop shut, sliding it into your bag and storming out of the library. Clearly, you weren’t going to get any work done.

How did you and Jin end up this way?

It was three weeks later when you found yourself in the middle of a party, nervously pulling at your sweatshirt and trying to look busy. Scanning the room anxiously, your gaze unexpectedly locked with Jin’s. His eyes widened in shock before he spun on his heel, leaving you behind him without so much as a peep.

That was the first time you’d seen him in person since the argument. You hadn’t expected him to act like nothing had happened— after all, you weren’t sure you wanted to pretend like you were suddenly best friends again, either— but you didn’t expect him to flat out ignore you. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you tried to find a familiar face amongst the crowd, pushing back the thought of Jin doing his very best to avoid you.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d tell the story of how you almost lost your mind when you saw Jin for the first time; how he walked you home that night to make sure you’d make it home safe and sound because you were “too nice to die at the hands of a creepy old man on the street at 11pm.”

But now, he held his pride like he should’ve held you.

God, you were scared to see the ending of this story. Why were you both pretending like this was nothing? It was getting to be too much for your body and mind to handle, and judging by the dark circles you’d spotted under Jin’s eyes, he wasn’t faring much better than you.

Words couldn’t describe just how badly you wanted to run into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. But you had no idea how to.

Pulling out your phone, you drafted message after message, only to delete each of them a few seconds after typing them. The last messages sent between you were from two weeks ago, and the last time you’d actually talked in person had been almost three.

Yet you’d still check your phone at least once every hour, hoping to see a notification from him, just to be let down by a blank screen.

Huffing, you slipped your phone into your pocket and ran a hand through your hair, frustration and confusion coursing through your veins as you stood alone in the crowded room. Sure, you’d had arguments with Jin before, but you swore you’d never heard silence quite this loud. Inside, you were dying to know if it was killing him like it was killing you, but you didn’t know what to say or ask to get past this roadblock.

This terrible twist of fate had shattered everything, and the once fairytale-like story of you and Jin was starting to look a lot more like a tragedy now.

In an emotionally fueled rampage, you suddenly yanked your phone back out of your pocket. Your fingers slammed into the keyboard over and over again, not giving yourself enough time to think twice about what you’d typed out until after you hit send.

You: hey. can we talk?

You were sick and tired of competing for the title of who could act like they cared less… you just wanted Jin back. Although you might be stubborn, you liked it better when the two of you were on the same side, and you were more than willing to lay your armor down if he would admit that he’d rather love than fight.

Sighing, you turned your screen off once more, sliding your phone into your pocket. The battle was in his hands now, so there was no point in letting this ruin the rest of your night.

Jin’s heart was beating a million times a minute as he stared at his phone screen, reading the text message from you over and over again. All he had to do was reply to the four simple words, but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to respond.

The question really only required a one-word response, so why was this so hard? Was he scared of the conversation that would inevitably follow? The chance of having his heart broken? Or was he, deep down, still trying to pretend like nothing was really wrong?

There were thousands of thoughts racing through Jin’s mind as he continued to stare at the screen, wishing there was a way to express what he was feeling. He had so many things to tell you, but he didn’t know how, and he was sure that if he stared for even a second longer he might shut down.

“Everything okay, dude?” Hoseok put a hand on Jin’s shoulder, throwing his friend a concerned glance, “You seem a little out of it.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jin locked his phone after sending a quick reply, sliding it into his pocket with only a moment’s hesitation, “I’m good.”

Jinnie: sure. let’s call later tonight.

a/n; this is a day early bc i love jin & i’m high on that mots:7 juice right now. sorry for the angst & messy writing. but i wrote this in like an hour with no editing and hey, at least there’s implied fluff at the end, right??

— masterlist —

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

#bts x reader #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts reactions #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #kpop imagines #kpop #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfiction #bts x you #bts drabble #reader insert #jin x reader #bts jin #kim seokjin #jin #seokjin #seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenario #seokjiin fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader angst #seokjin angst #jin angst

[gottlem]

favourite song (lemonjuice)

a/n: well here it is! gonna keep this short and sweet but i wanted to say how much i love these two and i wrote this just bc i felt like we needed more lemonjuice fics !!! props the the handful of writers who have already written this ship, they’re all so great !! quick sidenote, i haven’t written in a while, so i really hope y’all find this up to standard !!! <3

summary: Juice found that the best way to get her feelings out was through writing songs, but she would never tell her best friend and long time crush, Lemon, about that. Well, until she does. (3.3k words)

Juice was never really the best at outwardly expressing her feelings. Even when she tried to open up to her best friend from childhood, Lemon, it was as if the words got lost somewhere between her mind and her mouth. And as someone with far too many emotions to keep bottled up safely, she needed a way to let them out. So she began to write songs. Over a few years, she taught herself to play a guitar she had found stocked away in her home, which had been surprisingly intact and functional for it’s age.

At first, her songs were mediocre at best. The chords sometimes wouldn’t sound right together and she couldn’t really get the lyrics to flow in the way she wanted them to, but after writing and writing she started to find her sound. And it was good. Once she was truly happy with the content she was creating, she didn’t want to keep it to herself any longer. It’s not like she wanted to become famous, no, the idea of fame scared her shitless. But she wanted somewhere to put her work, she didn’t care if one person or one thousand people listened. So she made a small Instagram account. It didn’t have her name, and she didn’t tell any of her friends, but over time it acquired a small but surprisingly active following.

It was Friday night when Juice started on a new song. It was one she had been meaning to write for a long time, but was about something she was scared to even admit to herself. Feelings she was scared to face. Feelings for Lemon. They had been there for a while, festering under the surface, and only recently had they gotten out of control. Nothing had triggered it, not particularly, but suddenly she had found herself thinking about her friend far too often to be considered platonic. They had been best friends for as long as Juice could remember, and she knew she was far into the friend zone. Lemon would flirt often, make jokes about them becoming girlfriends. Which was fine. It meant she was comfortable enough in their friendship. And as long as Lemon loved her in any way, Juice was happy. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

She was in the middle of writing her very first song about the girl when her strumming was interrupted by her phone ringing. Loudly. She should have remembered to just put it on mute. It’s ringing startled her enough to be taken out of the zone she was in, so she decided the least she could do was check who it was. And she figured the universe had decided to play a massive practical joke on her right at the moment, because the caller ID read “lem”. She answered it anyway, it was Lemon after all, how couldn’t she?

“Lem! Hi!” She cursed herself for how smitten she sounded, Lemon would be quick to figure out her feelings if she wasn’t careful.

“Juicy! What’s up? What are you doing right now?” Juice’s heart stopped. Partly because of the nickname that she still hadn’t gotten used to, and partly because she has no idea how to answer that question without having to explain why she’s kept this hobby secret for so long.

“Umm, well”

She didn’t actually know why she had kept this from Lemon all this time. Maybe telling her would be good, maybe it wouldn’t even change anything. So she bit the bullet and made the split second decision to let the cat out of the bag. She didn’t have to say what, or who, she was writing about, right?

“I was in the middle of writing a song, you actually kind of scared me, my phone was so loud” There was a beat of silence. Juice bit her bottom lip nervously and just hoped she wouldn’t be asked a question that she was absolutely not ready to answer.

“You were- since when did you write songs? Juicy how did I not know about this? Can you even play any instruments? What do you play?”

These questions, Juice could deal with.

“I uh, started a few years ago, didn’t tell anyone because I wanted it to be something I could keep for myself, and I taught myself guitar after I found one in that spooky cupboard you can never go into.”

Lemon chuckled, causing Juice to blush instantly. Because of course she did.

“Wow. Years, huh? Why didn’t you tell me though?” Juice didn’t expect her friend to sound almost hurt by the fact that she had kept this from her. But then again, they tell eachother everything. She didn’t really know why she never told Lemon. Maybe she was scared of opening up too much, sounding dramatic. Maybe she was scared she wouldn’t like her songs. Maybe she was scared she would.

“I don’t know Lem. Just didn’t come up I guess”

“Well, can I hear one? What about the one you’re writing now?”

“Not yet. Maybe next time you come over once it’s finished.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, definitely. Well I’ll let you finish it then, text me when it’s done!”

When Lemon hung up, the silence of the room fell heavy on Juice’s ears. Obviously, she wouldn’t show Lemon the song she was writing just then, but she didn't have to know that. She would show Lemon a song she wrote a month or two ago, she remembered it well enough and it’s not about anything too serious that Lemon doesn’t already know about. No harm done. Easy.

~

Lemon was set on hearing at least one of Juice’s songs. She couldn’t believe that after knowing her for so many years, she had hidden this from her! It’s not that she was angry, she wasn’t, she just wished she hadn’t missed out on all this. She wondered what she could have written about over the years, what she writes about now. She wondered what her voice sounded like, would it be smooth and silky, or breathy and soft? What would her songs even sound like? Does she have her own special sound, distinctive from everyone else? She just wanted to know. She wanted to hear them.

When Juice finally performed a song for Lemon, she was speechless. They sat on Juice’s bed, candles burning on the windowsill and hot chocolates resting on her nightstand. The moon shone from the window, it was quite late, probably too late to make any noise, but nobody was home to hear, so neither girl tried to keep quiet despite the late hour. From the moment Juice started to pluck a soft pattern on the nylon strings of the old guitar, she was mesmerised. The melody was soothing, and her voice was soft enough to send her to sleep if she closed her eyes for too long. It was a beautiful song, about a story Lemon had already heard a thousand times before, but never in this format. That made it feel brand new.

The pair fell asleep soon after that, limbs tangled in Juice’s bed just like all the other times before, except a soft humming could be heard that sent Lemon straight to sleep in her friend's familiar arms. Juice wished it could be like this every night. But her and Lemon were just friends, eventually she’d be okay with that reality. She’d have to be.

It didn’t take long for Lemon to find Juice’s account dedicated to her songs. After she went home that morning she went straight onto Instagram, remembering something Juice had said about an account where she puts all her music onto. At first, she didn’t quite know where to look, but she ended up searching through the followers and following on Juice’s main account and eventually stumbled upon it. She just wanted to hear more.

Lemon checked the most recent video posted, expecting it to be the same song Juice had performed for her the night before, since she had been told it was the one her friend had just written, the one she had interrupted the writing of. It took her a minute to realise the song was definitely not the same, but she didn’t think too much of it, maybe she hadn’t posted that one yet. Hearing one of her songs before anyone else made Lemon’s stomach do a little flip, something she was growing used to around her friend.

As Lemon scrolled through the account, listening to each and every song, she encountered one that sounded extremely familiar, posted months ago. It was the exact same one Juice had performed to her. But if she had only just written it, how had it been posted months ago? She tried not to dwell on it for too long, opting to just enjoy the music instead. Once she had sifted through every video, she followed the account, wanting to hear everything her friend came out with.

Juice’s songs were special. They allowed Lemon to feel more connected to her friend; she always felt as if Juice was biting her tongue, holding back. All she had ever wanted was Juice to open up around her, and if it was through her breathtaking music, then so be it. Some songs were about stuff that Lemon had never heard her friend even mention before, and she was tempted to give her a ring or text and ask her about them, talk more into detail about the contents, but she always stopped herself at the last minute. If Juice wanted to talk about something that was bothering her, she would talk. Maybe she was scared to. 

-

Juice almost screamed when she saw the notification that Lemon had followed her account. She looked over every one of her posts, making sure they were all good enough for Lemon to see. She wanted Lemon to love her music now she knew about it, and hoped she would bring up one of her songs to her. She wondered which song would be Lemon’s favourite, and why. She wanted to know how many she had listened to. Had she just followed the account and left it at that? Had she watched her most recent video? Had she listened to all of her posts?

So Juice waited. She waited for Lemon to bring it up. But even after posting a couple of new songs, she got nothing. She was quick to come to the conclusion that Lemon wasn’t really looking at her new posts, though in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. When Juice figured Lemon wasn’t listening to her new music, she found the courage to post her song about the girl. It wasn’t very specific, it was clearly about a girl she had some strong feelings for, but there were no identifying details that could lead to the conclusion of the song being undoubtedly about Lemon. This meant if Lemon did happen to hear it, there was no way she would know right off the bat that the song was about her. She didn’t need Lemon to know her true feelings.

When Juice posted her first song about Lemon, the feedback had been overwhelmingly positive. She received a few more likes than usual, and the comments were filled with well wishes for her and the mystery girl she had written a song about. But there was nothing from Lemon, as usual. Juice was confident that she wasn’t listening, so she posted more and more songs about her. It wasn’t like she only ever wrote about Lemon anymore, though she was definitely getting more comfortable doing so and began writing about her more often than not, allowing herself to fall deeper for the girl. As she posted more songs, they became increasingly more specific, but never enough to allow her to be figured out. Someone would only be able to tell it was Lemon if they were actively looking for that specific conclusion.

-

Lemon couldn’t believe it when she heard Juice’s first love song. She watched her best friend’s eyes light up on her screen while singing about this mystery girl, but there was something else to her facial expression that made it all seem bitter sweet. Maybe it was the way her eyes would lose that sparkle for just a moment every once in a while, or the way her lips never really formed into the beautiful smile Lemon had gotten so used to over the years. The song itself was beautiful, as always. Juice sounded as if she meant every single word, truly singing right from her heart.

It hurt Lemon a little to find out Juice felt so strongly about someone and hadn’t told her, but perhaps she was just getting round to it. It hurt her even more that it wasn’t Lemon she was singing about. She knew she had liked Juice for a while, but tried to keep things platonic in fear of her feelings not being reciprocated, and it looked as if that was the right move because now she was listening to Juice sing a love song that wasn’t about her.

Even though she knew she would be hurt by the truth, Lemon was determined to find out who Juice had been singing about in her more recent posts. Each song hurt to listen to more than the last, because she was creating a fantasy where Juice was actually singing about her. It was only made worse that everything Juice said about this girl and their relationship could be used to describe Lemon. She just needed confirmation that it wasn’t her and then she could move on with her life as Juice’s friend. And be content with just that.

Her idea was simple, but effective. Just ask her. Juice was a terrible, terrible liar, made worse when it was Lemon she tried to lie to, so she knew she’d be getting the truth about whoever this girl was. All she had to do was try not to show her feelings, and try not to get jealous of this girl. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

-

Juice enjoyed whatever time she could spend with Lemon, but nothing could beat when she stayed over. They turned on fairy lights and lit candles before making hot chocolate and turning on netflix, watching from the comfort of Juice’s bed. Maybe she liked it so much because they always ended up tangled together. She just liked the way Lemon’s skin felt against hers, even if it was just some small brushes under the covers. 

They were chatting about nothing in particular when Lemon changed the subject without warning, something she always did.

“Hey Juicy, I’ve loved your songs lately by the way. Not that I don’t always love them. I just thought I’d tell you” 

Juice’s heart stopped. She could practically feel the colour drain from her face. Lemon listened to her songs. Her recent songs. 

“You’ve heard my new ones?” Is all she could get out.

“Duh! I’m your number one fan, juicy”

“Oh.”

“Just one question though, who are all the love songs about?” Juice wouldn’t really describe them as love songs, more like ‘hopelessly crushing on my best friend who I have virtually zero chance with’ songs. But sure, love songs it is.

“Lem. You can’t really write a love song about a stupid crush. Love is a very strong word, I don’t love her. I can’t”

“Honey, you’re in love. You can see it in your eyes when you sing about her. Must be some special girl, huh?” Lemon rubbed salt into her own wound with every word she said. It almost physically hurt to ask about this girl Juice was so clearly smitten for, knowing it wasn’t her.

“Yeah. She’s special. But you don’t get it Lem, I can’t be in love with her. I just can’t”

“Why not?”

Juice just shook her head, defeated. She knew the answer to that. She can’t be in love because she’s her best friend. It would ruin what they have. She would get rejected. Everything would change. 

Lemon wiped a stray tear from her friend's cheek.

“Hey. Look at me,” she did, “whoever this girl is, would be so, so lucky to have you. I promise you, one day you’re going to find someone who loves you with just as much passion as I hear in those beautiful, beautiful songs. You deserve to be loved by someone who loves you that much. Okay? Don’t cry baby”

The pet name slipped out of Lemon’s mouth before she could stop it, but it felt so natural as she took the crying girl in her arms. They sat there for a while, Lemon whispering little reassurances in her ear, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Until Juice pulled away, took a deep breath, and looked Lemon straight in the eye. She was going to tell her.

“I just- Sorry for crying on you”

But she couldn’t. Love is scary. But Lemon is not. It was a painful cycle.

“Don’t be.” Lemon couldn’t stand seeing her Juice so broken, so she figured she’d try to lighten the mood and try to find out who it was so she could finally just get over her. “Sooooooo, who is it?”

“No, I can’t tell you” Juice managed a weak chuckle, shook her head affectionately.

“C’mon, do I at least know her?”

All Lemon got in response was a nod. She was confused, really. She had set herself up to be told a random girls name and have her heart broken. She would take a few weeks to recover, but eventually Juice and this girl would get together and they’d all live happily ever after. She had prepared herself for that. She had not prepared for tears and love and self doubt and secrets. They had never kept anything like this from each other. Ever since coming out to each other, they had vowed to be one another’s wing-woman, so what happened? The only reason Lemon could possibly think of as to why she couldn’t tell her who, was-

“Juicy...” Her tone felt unfamiliar in her mouth. It wasn’t sharp or soft, it wasn’t happy, angry or upset. It might have been hope. Juice just looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is it-”

“Whoever you’re going to say, I can almost guarantee that you’re wrong” Juice almost found it funny that she was about to guess.

“Let me finish,” Lemon looked at her in the eyes, and smiled softly “ Is it me?” 

“I-”

What was she even supposed to say to that? She couldn’t lie, Lemon would see right through it. She couldn’t tell the truth, everything would change. What if Lemon felt weird about it? What if she didn’t want to be as close with her any more? Was she uncomfortable with the idea of Juice having a crush on her?

Lemon giggled softly, “I guess the silence answers that question, huh?”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to anymore. I swear I can just move on and get over it. I really don’t want to ruin our friendship and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable or anything. Are you mad? I don’t blame you if-”

“Shut up” Lemon almost whispered, her soft tone still somehow cutting through Juice’s words like a knife. Juice said nothing. She let the silence take over for a second or two, before Lemon took a breath, and spoke again.

“Shut up, and kiss me”

So she did. Juice had always wondered what kissing Lemon would feel like, but now she was actually doing it, all her expectations didn’t even come close to the real thing. They fit together so easily, the kiss hardly ever breaking, staying as soft as ever. They had all the time in the world, so why rush it?

After that night, Juice wrote countless more songs for her now-girlfriend, and every single time a new one came out, Lemon would say the same thing.

“I like this one. I think it’s my new favourite song. I love you”

And Juice loved her back. You could see it in her eyes. Feel it through her kiss. Hear it in her songs.

#well... hope u liked it!!!! #i hope u know how long it took me to decide who was gonna be the songwriter #im happy with my decision of it being juice #anyways #pls give me validation #ty #lemon #lemon cdr #lemon gives you life #lemon queen #juice boxx #lemonjuice #rpdr fanfiction #canadas drag race #lemon x juice boxx #my writing:)

[graffitibible]

Do you have any advice for writing or creating regularly? That’s hard for me and I’d like to get better at it.

it boils down to what works best for you personally tbh. i’ve got a system to write semi-regularly (or i did......restricted movement hours have kinda forced me to restructure that lol) and it works for me but that’s just how my brainyot works. i’m a routine-based creature so working writing into my routine was how i got myself to write semi-regularly. 

ive also had significant Brain Junk for most of my life and was gradually able to navigate how best to create in spite of that but im also like, medicated for it and the like so self-care was a factor. i couldnt create shit while i was too busy lying in a pool of my own filth having fits of paranoia about the nature of reality so i was hardly about to make myself try and create stuff when that wasnt even on my radar. 

i can share some of the things i do to keep myself writing though! like again this isn’t something that’s for sure gonna work for everybody cause everybodys wired differently but i hope some of it helps!

1. daily wordcount - i’ve mentioned this before but i have a daily wordcount that i do for my original fiction. i don’t apply the same standard to fic-writing because that risks making it an arbitrary barrier that puts too many numbers on my internal list. that being said, it’s very small. i make myself do 200 words per day. if that gets me going and writing more than that, awesome. if not, i still got a little bit done. 200 words is small, and it’s not overwhelming to catch up on if i miss a day. no matter how shitty im feeling i try to get in 200 words.

2. routine - since i’m a routine-based person by nature i basically found ways to finagle creative processes into all that. it’s not hard and fast because that kind of rigid structure makes me balk and i’m not that disciplined lol, but it’s usually something like “i have an hour-long lunch break at work and literally nothing else to do during it so i’ll write in that time period” or “i have thirty minutes of sitting by the stove making dinner so i’ll write until it’s ready”

3. momentum - or what my housemate fondly calls “The Juice.” if i have The Juice of inspiration i keep that going for as long as i can. if something’s not working for me i don’t scrap it or toss it right away. if i’m having trouble with a scene i make a note to myself and move on to a different one. example of this from my latest wip, which is part iv of mayhem

i hadnt worked out what was gonna go there and nothing was coming to me easy in the moment so i stuck the note there and kept going. my works are full of this shit. if i can’t think of a name or if there’s a statistic or a character i haven’t worked out yet i don’t wanna break my focus and momentum so i slap a note in the first draft and keep going. at a first draft stage the important thing is getting the words Out so it doesnt matter if theyre perfect. ill go back and fix them later, revise all i need to. first drafts dont need to be good, they just need to be there so i can spruce them up later.

on the flip side do not be like me and commit to this momentum so bad that you forget that you are a human being who needs to eat and consume liquids. i do that sometimes because of who i am as a person and it is a serious flaw of mine, do not be like this. sometimes getting some food in you is what you need to get The Juice flowing again and that sounds kinda gross and i am sorry

4. planning and hangups - this ones dependent on how you create. i forget where this analogy came from, but i’ve heard it said that some writers are architects who need a blueprint of where they’re going before they end up there and some writers are gardeners, who don’t need a set plan so much as they need to keep going. i’m definitely an architect - a lot of my works start out as bulletpoints of what scenes i wanna cover, what topics i wanna explore, etc. - though i have on occasion simply Written without any set destination, usually to force myself out of a creative slump. me being a big planner used to be one of the biggest barriers for me creatively because i’d spend hours agonizing over minute universe details and never start the dang story. this still happens from time to time. like heres what my organizational folder looks like wrt “pray for disaster”

that is not even all the files in there. why do i have two dictionaries. jesus. like i make these giant ass fuckin....tomes of stuff i like to keep track of, which i like to call “bibles” lol. except i could tell that getting too organized was gonna be an uphill battle with very little payoff so by the end i just made a “MISCELLANEOUS BULLSHIT” doc and for now i throw everything in there if it doesn’t fit into something like a dictionary or timeline

shit like this is why i like to just sit down and write without a clear destination in mind if i’m having writer’s block. that’s one of those things that goes hand in hand with the way i take advantage of my own momentum - if i reach a certain point where i’m just picking at details and not doing any writing i just go “ok motherfucker sit down and write shit. we will work out the details later.”

5. motivation - the ways i tend to motivate myself are weird so idk how true this is for anybody else but i’ve been writing for a pretty large part of my life. i went to college for english/creative writing and got a whole dang degree cause i still wanna make this my vocation somehow. one thing i cannot ever turn off is the writer part of my brain that’s going “oooh huh that’s not how i would’ve written that” in literally every piece of art i consume - tv, movies, books, songs, etc. sometimes that’s enough to inspire me into doing something on my own time. most of the time though if i’m feeling stumped i tend to crack open some of my personal favorite works, like books or fics that have really resonated with me, to fall in love with the art all over again. seeing the way different authors and artists do their craft helps me get in the zone of wanting to write more cause i get this nice feeling of “damn, these people really did those things with those words.....that’s fuckin amazing.....i wanna do that.” 

you do risk falling into the trap of “ugh i can’t write like them though” but that’s the beauty of writing. nobody can write the way anybody else does. ofc i can’t write like terry pratchett, only terry pratchett can write like terry pratchett, and if i compare myself to terry pratchett i’m only gonna get sad and mopey. but i can write in a way thats totally unique to me so i should not try to write like terry pratchett because that’s just impeding my own creative energy in the interest of trying to cookie-cut myself into someone else’s zone. only terry pratchett can write like terry pratchett but only i can write like zero graffitibible.

i hope that was helpful? like this is all stuff that works for me so no guarantee it’ll work for everyone else.

oh right and idk how many of yall are minors because let it be known that i do not condone underage drinking; i am an adult who occasionally will get crunk because i like to write drunk and edit sober. if you too are an adult who can legally consume alcohol feel free to write while buzzed because that is a nice way to write with zero fuckin inhibitions. i dont get blackout drunk or nothing just a little buzzed and sometimes what i write makes no sense but i am at times at my most productive at 2am while mildly buzzed. its a thing.

like again i’m not really an authority on this by any means - this is just what works for me. but if it works for you too, great!! find your zone and all that

#anon #ask #z speaks #alcohol mention cw in case anybodys got that blacklisted #theres nothing as liberating as writing after having consumed 1.5 beers and feeling like a gOD #i say 1.5 but realistically its more like 1 #i am a tiny person who cannot hold their liquor #and beer really is just mulled fartweed but thats all right #creating is pain and pain is living and sometimes that entails drinking mulled fartweed cause itll loosen you up enough to really Write #i dont lean on this too much btw #its just like if i happen to get buzzed ill usually go 'you know what i should totally do. write.' #it is at times incomprehensible

[wexhappyxfew]

Ho Shannon! I’d love for you to make a post about your writing process; if there’s something that you struggle with while writing, if sometimes you find yourself writing just because “you have to” and not because you feel like it, or on the countrary if you ever have your head full of ideas but can’t put it into words! (Always happens to me, that’s why I’m asking, ha!) I mean, tell us how you cope with all the struggles! I love that you’re so passionate about your own writing 💛 ily!

Hello!! Thank you so much for your question, I am so excited to answer it!! :) 

WRITING PROCESS

So just to start off simply with my writing process, when I start getting the feel for a book that I want to write or something that I want to play off, I get very into, very quickly, and I start writing little one or two sentence notes of dialogue or topics I want to pinpoint and soon enough I have notes that are FILLED with things!! And my writing process in general is a very loose one. I write when I want, I don’t have a plan in mind, more of just little things about my characters, where I want the plot to go, character dynamics things like that. But something that works best, is no promises to myself in the beginning, because I can guarantee that I’m not going to be kept on the path I choose in the beginning! I just write and see what happens because for me, personally, it turns out better for me because I just let the flow of writing carry me! 

Now to your questions!! 

Something I struggle with while writing is making sure that I continue to write like I did throughout the story and that I keep it consistent and that I stay true to my characters and their thought process and such. I tend to go off track and get distracted by things, easily really, and then I lose focus and start writing something I wouldn’t. I’m also hard on myself if you can believe it :( i’m just a perfectionist though, so I want everything to be the best it can be, even though it won’t always be perfect, but I try to the best of my ability. 

There are days where I find myself forcing myself to write just because I know if I don’t, I won’t ever get through the rough patch I’m in. So some of the things I do are play playlists of like soft rock, or gentle calming music and I immediately find myself drawn into the writing mood. Other times, I tell myself, you know what, don’t write, do what you want, that sorta mentality, because my writing for me is just for fun and I don’t want to stress myself out over simply just writing because then it wouldn’t be fun anymore and I’d feel that would suck :( Something else I do is look at quotes, about life and stuff and I feel the inspirational juices in my brain start flowing and immediately find myself drawn in - as you can tell, I easily draw myself into the context of writing LOL 

Now on the opposite side, I have more days filled with all the ideas and the inability to write it the way I want or fear I’ll forget what I initially wanted to write and I get overwhelmed. I then use notes, to write down topics or sentences or phrases just so I have something to look back on and just have there for myself as I write, which usually helps me remember most of the time. 

AW THANKS! I am super passionate about my writing because it has been such a good thing for my mental health especially in quarantine I feel because I can express myself through an art that is just words on a page. I can evoke emotions and feelings in people through words and I find that so amazing!! So thank you!!

I feel the most prevalent thing about my writing is that I do it for fun and if it doesn’t feel fun anymore, I know there’s an issue. I always find writing so much fun, so when I recognize myself getting into different moods where I don’t want to write, I have to stop and rethink. It helps!! And taking my time!! If I don’t feel ready for an update, I tell myself I’m not ready and I take all the time I need for it, and tell myself I’m doing this for me, for myself. Because that’s what matters - if you like your story, that’s all that matters. I feel that’s the biggest part of writing, if you love your story, that’s the best part. You control your story and no one else. 

Sometimes I’ll see comments on my stories, like your character should’ve done this, like that’s not their character or they’ll be telling me everything I’m doing wrong when I’m just trying my best?? And it just gets me down sometimes, because I do as much research as I can and I truly try my best, so I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes I can’t help but feel bad about it, like I messed up when I’m just trying my best and writing a story. That’s definitely something that gets in my mind a lot. And when people start telling me what my characters should do in comments, I get a bit peeved if I’m honest, because it’s my characters, not theirs and a writer knows their characters the best, they’re like children to us. I usually answer back kindly just saying that this is what the character in my head would’ve done, things like that. But it sucks sometimes and I know it shouldn’t be a big deal, but to have people tell me to do certain things that are out of character just bothers me because I know my character like my own child :) never let anyone say something to sway your decision. Always do what you feel is best for you for your story. 

And reach out to people!! I know people are always willing to give such good suggestions for stories and such good advice, even on the littlest things like character development and such! I always support the whole writers supporting writers thing - they may not know your character but they know things about writing that can help you expand so much and can give such great ideas and helpful tips! Writers are friends - great ones at that!! <3 

And something I want to talk about, just a helpful little tip I’ve learned about while writing like I have, is simply writing with the flow of things. Let me give you an example: 

The silent soldier sat with a loose fitting white shirt, that had some holes in it - it must've been the PT shirt guys wore underneath, and he had dirty OD bottoms on, with socked feet. His eyes had dark circles that surrounded his eyelids, and his eyes seemed emotionless, like a dark gate was pushed over them, concealing each and every emotion that was inside, back and away from sight. His eyebrows were slack, relaxed, but the stress lines around it showed. He was young and he already had the stress marks of a 30 year old. His lips had cuts in certain areas and his cheek had a tiny scar, from the war, Hazel assumed. His dark brown hair was greasy, he hadn't showered in a while and the stubble along his face was unkempt - but this was the war taking over a human life form, not a soldier of war.

This is from Chapter 7 of Ad Astra Per Aspera called The Silent Soldier. Something I like to do in my writing, is use description to my advantage as well as emotions. I’m actually creating a post about emotions specifically associated with The Soldier of Stars because I really talk about how I want emotions to really show whether they are happy or sad, I feel it is important :) 

I really like to go in depth, and describe the external figure or topic I’m discussing like “ his eyes had dark circles that surrounded his eyelids and his eyes seemed emotionless “ as the external description. Then I move into internal, based off emotions “ like a dark gate was pushed over them, concealing each and every emotion that was inside, back and away from sight.” I feel writing it like this, expands on that external feeling with an internal feeling as well, I’ve always liked using this concept. 

By the end, I usually relate it to the overall concept, something in this case that has to do with the impending war that has caused all this “ but this was the war taking over a human life form, not a soldier of war.” In the way I use it, I talk about as if there is this alien species taking over a human; in this sense it is something turning from a human to something that was that of a human-like form. By then ending it with ‘a soldier of war’, a soldier of war gives the idea of that perfect soldier on those posters of the war, and the previous description gives the complete opposite of the harsh reality and that’s what I hoped to portray!! If that makes sense though :) 

I hope this helped!! My inbox is always open, and feel free to ask ANY questions you ever have, I will always answer to help anyone and give any of my insights that I have!! I know writing can be stressful sometimes so if I can do anything to help I am always glad!! Thank you sm for the ask and I really hoped this helped!!

#writing help #writing tips #story insights #if you have any questions just ask away #ill give my best insights experiences or analysis on parts of my story!! :)

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

First Light

Anonymous said: How do you feel about some soft touching and kissing with Arthur, maybe throw in some smut if you feel like it? *wink wink*

AN: According to my girlfriend, reading this is like clicking in a pornhub link, so I hope y’all like it. It’s really sweet and cute and I wrote is part of a challenge to her!!!! As always, thank u bby @winters-uprise for being my beta and forcing me to write!!!

Word Count: 2500 of tooth rotting smut

Summary: Nature getaways, soft touching in the dark, lovey dovey moments, a true unthinkable amount of sweet possessiveness, sleepy sex (in a way) and a lot of ‘i love you’s.

Consider supporting the writer and donating to my Ko-Fi!

Stirred from sleep, you lazily registered the distant feeling of someone touching you. It was late — far too late for the lights to still be on, the only source of it being the half-dead bonfire Arthur had lit a few hours ago when putting together your camp. You kept your eyes closed, slowly coming to your senses and breathing softly against the man’s chest; hot and solid, next to your face.

“That’s it,” Arthur cooed gently, swiping your hair from your face to press a kiss to the dip between the corner of your eye and nose, “nice ‘n easy.”

Your brain slowly started to catch up to the moment and the slow rocking of Arthur’s hands between your thighs. His fingers were already knuckle deep in your already sore pussy, his essence from earlier adding up to your growing wetness. His knee pressed up, parting your thighs further and you whimpered, trying to open your eyes; still groggy.

“Arthur—“

“No talkin’,” he cut you with a hoarse voice, “eyes closed, yeah, jus’ like that.”

His lips pressed to your neck, his body coaxing yours to go limp under the naughty attention he was showering you with. You keened lowly, fisting at the soft fabric of his sleepshirt in desperation. Arthur hummed, nibbling on the sweet spot just below your jawline.

“Ain’t no one that can make you feel like that,” he whispered in your ear, so intoxicatingly sweet it left you dizzy and breathless, “ain’t that so, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly, moaning quietly as Arthur bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder. The pad of his thumb brushed on your clit, making you jolt under the weight of his body and eliciting a pleased growl from him. Your breathing quickened and you tried to keep your eyes squeezed shut, spreading your thighs some more for him and the sensations he had to offer.

It burned a little, but you didn’t mind — at times, neither you or Arthur wanted to be slow and gentle, the loving caresses you’d trade in your tent back at the camp never enough to quench your thirst and need for each other. His fingers scissored your pussy, torturously slowly, with a deliberate sense of purpose that evaded your mind for the time being.

“Pretty,” Arthur cooed once more, his voice dripping with praise, “so pretty, sweetheart,” he brushed his thumb more firmly down on the little bud of nerves and you hiccupped a gasp, turning your face to press it to the thickness of his neck. “Easy, easy…”

You opened your mouth, wanting to say something — anything —, but ultimately decided against it and snapped it shut. Arthur chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent praise to your obedience as he started pumping his fingers slowly; middle and index fingers making slow come-hither motions. If you were in a better state of mind, not as drowsy and pliable, the sound of your wetness would’ve caused you to blush and hide your face in embarrassment, but that wasn’t the case.

“Wanna come for me?,” Arthur asked in a hushed voice, a soft teasing lilt to it, a condescending tone that wouldn’t appear during daytime. You nodded, because of course you did, keening lowly at his words. “I know, darlin’… keep goin’, that’s it…”

His fingers prodded further and this time you gasped when he pushed them deeper and rubbed up against the tender spot that made you see stars. You cried softly, moaning from deep within your chest, and Arthur encouraged you with low praises and gentle kisses. The contrast was intoxicating, the tenderness he offered when kissing and touching you against the harsh tone he had used on you earlier and the imposing instance he had adopted now.

“Make the prettiest lil’ sounds, don’t ya?,” he teased, slowing the rocking of his fingers in your pussy — and you whined in protest, clasping a hand around his forearm with a feeble sort of desperation. Arthur smiled, seemingly amused, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You squirmed under him rubbing your thighs together and canting your hips more fully towards his touch. You knew he was trying to make you speak up, teasing to see if you’d break, but you held back. Squeezing his wrist, you pushed at his hands, giving a shuddering breath when he brushed his thumb on the small bundle of nerves on top of your pussy.

“You want this?,” Arthur inquired, rubbing your clit slowly in a wide circle, but you wanted — needed — more. “Like that, huh?”

Shaking your head, you spread your thighs further, eyes still closed and oblivious to just how much the man could see of your wanton display. You were shivering, breathing harshly and quite fairly beyond yourself with pleasure. Arthur hummed in satisfaction.

“Yer so wet for me, sweetheart,” he commented, the soft lilt of tease back in his voice. It was amazing how Arthur was able to drive you up the walls with want, how he was this loving man and a teasing devil in bed; both sides of a same coin you had grown to love with time. “I bet you really wanna cum now, ain’t that so?”

You nodded feverishly, clinging to his arm now; you wanted to plead and cry for him, make release come quicker for you, but he dragged on.

“That’s a good girl,” Arthur praised, now pressing down on your clit and resuming the pumping of his fingers, the remaining drips of his own come flowing out of your cunt and smearing the lips, “such a good, good girl…”

Feeling lightheaded and dizzy, you clung to him — his voice, his smell, his presence, just anything you could anchor yourself with. You opened your mouth in a silent plea, tensing up under Arthur’s knowing touch. He had always known how to work you up to orgasm, surprisingly so; with gentle touching and pressure just on the right spots and it was—

You moaned, clawing at his arm and not knowing where to hold onto — the fabric of the sleepshirt or his forearm between your legs. It was too much, you thought feebly, just too—

“Cum for me, darlin’,” Arthur commanded in a hushed voice, one that left no space for arguing and you did.

You cried out, canting your hips and trying to accompany his hand as they worked your orgasm out of your body, your mind going on overdrive and feeling fuzzy at the same time as you peaked over; but Arthur kept going, still his expert fingers in and out of your pussy in rhythm.

“That’s it,” he cooed when you keened softly, trying to push his hand away before it became too much, but he didn’t give in, “just givin’ what you needed, ain’t that so sweetheart?”

With a fervent nod of your head, you tried closing your thighs — a clear contradiction from your side on that matter, but you didn’t care, because Arthur was still touching you and—

He chuckled, pulling his fingers away from your pussy with an embarrassingly loud wet sound. You shuddered, heaving out a short lived breath — because Arthur pushed his fingers in your mouth, not roughly, not like that, but insistently. You took his digits in, sucking on your juices the way you knew he wanted, and that made him groan. Holding his hand in yours, you lapped at his fingers slowly, almost languidly, until they were clean and you were left with the pungent taste of your own release on your tongue.

“Good girl,” Arthur growled, pulling your mouth to his for a fervent kiss, all teeth and tongue, but you could tell he was just as sleepy as you, despite the arousal. “So good,” he kept praising, kissing your temple and coaxing you to nuzzle into his chest; and of course you did, making Arthur sigh and smooth the unruly curls of your messy hair.

But you weren’t done with him, not yet. Your hand caressed the small bit of exposed skin up from his chest to his neck, your lips finding the stubbly skin there and carefully nipping at it. Arthur hummed appreciatively and you could feel the tiny tremor of his body at your gentle touching, the way he’d always do when you kissed his neck. You still had your eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the distant purple or daylight slowly creeping in; but still not enough to illuminate the woods around you.

“I love you,” Arthur breathed out, holding you in his arms in a lazy hug and you gave him a noncommittal answer from the back of your throat, one that you both knew meant that you loved him too. It was an inside joke, since you had said it first and Arthur had panicked for a second and did the same — simply hummed at your confession, all those months ago, before properly saying it. You thought it was adorable.

“Why do you get to talk now?,” you teased, snaking a hand below the coarse fur blanket to palm Arthur’s exposed sex. You both hadn’t bothered to dress up after having sex earlier that night. "Thought it was my turn to make ya feel good.”

Arthur shuddered a breath out, pulsing with interest in your hand. “Don’t get so cocky now, darlin’…”

You smiled wickedly, giving his shaft a gentle squeeze, to which Arthur responded with a soft groan. “So responsive, ain’t you?”

He chuckled lightly, shuffling his body closer to yours. “Stop teasin’ me,” he muttered, kissing your cheek, your eyelids and your forehead before settling to rest his chin on top of your head. “Just wanna have a good time…”

You started pumping him slowly, drawing a breathy moan from him. Arthur was always so responsive, with his small groans and held back moans; minimally vocal even at Camp to let you know just how much he loved it when you touched him. “Sound so good, Arthur…,” you whispered to him, kissing the faded scar on his chin; and Arthur shuddered when you swiped your thumb over the head of his sex.

“Yeah,” he agreed numbly, voice with the edge of a plea to it, his hips already thrusting shallowly against your hand. “Yeah,” he repeated, and you hummed sweetly at him, as if shushing his half pleas.

Arthur shivered when you picked up the pace, twisting your hand the way you knew he liked. “You’re so good, too,” you praised some more, now kissing his jawline, “so good, aren’t you?”

He moaned lowly, lips parting, and moved a hand to take a hold of your hip; touch heavy and hot on your bare skin. “This ain’t fair…,” Arthur complained weakly and you gave him another squeeze, cooing softly at his shivering breath. “You’re way better at this.”

“Shhh,” you hushed his complaint with a gentle press of your lips to his neck, giving it a teasing bite, “you sound so pretty like this, just can’t help it.”

You smiled pleasantly when Arthur moaned half in frustration and lust, his hips bucking against your hand in a sudden move. He sighed when you squeezed at his shaft, giving it a few more pumps before sliding your hand down to cup at his heavy balls; and at that, Arthur sucked a breath in. You were still to find out just how sensitive he was down there, but so far your careful and gentle prodding had proved fruitful. With a soft murmur of praise, you pecked at his lips, exploring fingers slowly caressing the sensitive skin and drawing out hushed curses and held back moans from him.

“I love you,” you whispered, careful to sound as intoxicatingly sweet as he had before when talking to you, “I love you so much.”

Arthur whimpered, moving his hand down to yours to make you hold onto his straining shaft, the skin of it velvety and the flesh firm under your touch. You hummed a small, “yeah?,” to him, to which he nodded and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was close and desperate. Pumping slowly, you drew the foreskin of his cock back to expose its head, and Arthur hiccupped a sinfully needy gasp; pulling your face to his for a needy kiss.

“I love you,” he managed in between kisses, with surprisingly soft voice despite the breathlessness. You quickened the pace, pumping him more quickly now and Arthur shuddered, pressing his forehead to yours and you could feel his breathing fanning over your face. Arthur shivered, hiccupping out the small aching sounds that he always did when he was able to get loud with you, and you pressed your lips to the high of his cheekbone.

With a sweet murmur, you brushed the sensitive skin of his face with the tip of your nose, in a loving motion, “do you wanna cum for me, darling?”

Arthur cursed, bucking his hips up into your hand and whimpered shortly after, and you noticed it wouldn’t be much longer from now. You made an understanding noise, almost condescending at him, kissing his face before settling for his lips where you nibbled at and pulled. He tensed then, breathing turning ragged and halted, and you pumped him faster, a sweet coo in your voice, “I love you.”

That seemed to be the breaking point for him, and Arthur moaned finally, his cock twitching in your hand as you felt the hot spurts of his cum splashing on your thighs and hip. You teased a few kisses out of him, his whole body and demeanor pliant and sweet for you, as he sighed his pleasure and you slowed down your stroking; not stopping yet to allow him to ride out whatever was left of his orgasm.

He canted his hips to you a few more times, sighing in pleasure at both your soft kisses and touching before stilling completely. You drew out one more spurt of cum from him, letting go of his cock when he hissed at the stimulus.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve ya,” Arthur commented with a small chuckle and you huffed at his comment, snuggling close to him and not minding the still warm cum on your leg.

“Ain’t getting rid of me that soon, lovey,” you whispered to the skin of his neck, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point. You cracked your eyes open slightly, catching the glimpse of greyish morning sunlight, before closing them once more. It wasn’t time to get up just yet. “I love you.”

Arthur hummed something noncommittal, making you smile.

He’d wake you up again in a few hours for breakfast, you knew that, but you wanted to pretend there were no obligations for the both of you. No Camp to look after, no Dutch, no people to look after besides the both of you.

You’d pretend that this small piece of heaven was your reality.      

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption imagines #saucy #fanfic

[imagine-lovebug]

Hey for that kiss prompt thing could you do a 39 with Peter? Thank you and you're an amazing writer 🕷

Aww, thanks lovebug! I’m glad u like my stuff ❤️ Also, idk why it takes me so fucking long to write these. I’m so sorry. 

#39. Spin The Bottle kiss

Word Count: 1.7k+

_____

Peter knew he wasn’t invited because they wanted him there; if they did, he wouldn’t have been invited last minute in gym class because of Ned’s empty promise of Spider-Man’s appearance. If he was wanted there, he wouldn’t have been greeted by a crowd, led by Flash, chanting ‘Penis Parker’ until he was able to fight his way through the hoards of people to the kitchen. If he was wanted there, Liz wouldn’t have grimaced and avoided greeting him when they made eye contact at the kitchen counter. She just grabbed one of the lukewarm cans of Bud Light and stalked off to find some of her real friends to talk to.

Peter had never had alcohol in his life, save for the one time Tony made him try a sip of his whiskey; his face had screwed up and he stuck his tongue out, gagging at the harshness of the bitter drink as it slid down his throat. Tony just laughed and patted him on his back, “You’ll get there eventually kid,” he had said, “and you better not tell your aunt about this, or I’ll be in major trouble.” So now, as he stood in Liz’s kitchen, seeing nothing but beer and varying bottles of liquor, he felt stuck. Classmates perused the selection around him, grabbing miscellaneous cans and pouring unknown liquids into red solo cups. Many chose to fill theirs with a mysterious concoction from a giant mixing bowl.

“Eyyyy, Peter,” Ned draped a thick arm over Peter’s shoulders, “you gotta try the punch, dude. It’s crazy strong.”

“I don’t know, man,” he worried.

“Nah, dude, it’s fine. Try mine,” he offered insistently, shoving the cup into the boy’s face, “try it. Just have a sip. Taste it.” Peter took the cup into his hands hesitantly and raised it to his lips, the scent of it invading his nostrils. It smelled like an existential crisis; the drink had no idea what it was or what brought it to existence— regret in liquid form. The taste, however, was nowhere near as bad. It reminded him of the time he emptied an entire packet of sour skittles into his mouth; overwhelmingly sweet and fruity but also tangy and stung his mouth a bit. He poured himself a cup and followed Ned into the lounge.

The populars milled around in small clusters on the carpet, all the girls giggling and leaning all over each other as Flash tried to gain everyone’s attention.

“Yo,” he exclaimed into his microphone, “we gotta play some Spin the Bottle. There’s not enough action in here.”

“We’re fine, Flash,” Liz responded, her filled in eyebrows furrowed, “You’re just salty you’re not getting any.” Her friends all snickered at her comment but voiced their disagreement, nonetheless. “Actually, girlie,” Peter leaned to try to see over the shoulder of one of the football players, but his attempt was futile. He didn’t need to see, however, to know that it was you whose angelic voice had spoken out against Liz. “I don’t know who made that jungle juice, but it’s strong as fuck tonight and Spin the Bottle sounds kinda fun right now. ” Hums of agreement came from his classmates. And with that, the shuffle commenced.

Peter had never seen his classmates move so in sync before: groups of spectators moved to huddle on and around the couches in Liz’s living room, a circle of participants arranged themselves on the crumb-ridden carpet in a gender-alternating order; people without spaces lined the closest wall to the action. The few boyfriends in the room had pulled their girlfriends close in a protective manner. Girls were strewn over each other’s laps, others sat on the floor against their friend’s knees. Flash worked on turning the music down, allowing the quiet conversations that were once drowned out from the sound to emerge. Peter stood a few feet from the kitchen doorway, amazed at how you had so much power over his peers that you could alter the entire atmosphere of the room with a simple statement. What he hadn’t noticed was that since everyone, including Ned, had found their new residence in the room, Peter stood out like a sore thumb. 

“Yo, Penis Parker” Flash called for his attention, “you sitting down or what?” He looked around desperately for a spare space to stand, searching the crowd for his best friend; Ned was locked in place, however, sat on the couch furthest from him with people surrounding him, some seated to his sides, others perched on the arms or pleated back of the sofa. 

“Come on, Parker,” you ordered sweetly, “we need another boy between Cindy and Sara anyway. Join us.” 

“That’s my spot,” Flash argued dejectedly, but stopped once he noticed the many glares that were shot his way. Instead of fighting it like his mind was telling him to, Peter stumbled his way over to the two girls, a tight smile of discomfort crossing his lips as he lowered himself to sit crosslegged. The red solo cup felt heavy in his hand and, without a second thought, he raised it to his lips to gulp down as much of it as he could. The effect was almost immediate and the taste of skittles flooded his system, the rainbow coating his brain making him feel a rush he’d only ever felt while soaring between skyscrapers as his alter-ego. 

Sixteen of them were settled on the plush area rug of the living room, and Peter allowed himself to scan each of the participants as the rounds went on. They were all pretty, boys and girls alike, and they were all part of the popular crowd— save for him, of course. His eyes dragged over each of the girls, taking in their low-cut tops and flowing hair, the tipsy smiles and hooded eyes plastered onto each of their faces. He saw Liz. If you had asked him two hours prior, he would’ve said she looked amazing— she still did —but after their not so pleasant interaction in the kitchen, he didn’t particularly like her anymore, and he definitely didn’t want to kiss her. 

And then his eyes fell to you. He always thought you were pretty, ever since you met in second grade. You were nice, unlike the majority of your friends, and actually talked to him in school. You gave him your notes in chem when he was ‘sick’ for the week, aka when he was in Germany with Mr. Stark, and you’ve let him copy your homework countless times when he’d forgotten to do the assignment after parol. The wide smile that graced your face, tongue protruding slightly from between your teeth, made a burst of warmth flood his chest and the corners of his lips turned up. He couldn’t help it, your smiles have always been infectious to him. And he kept looking at you, even as you turned to him with an expectant look on your face, your lips mouthing something. 

“Peter,” you repeated, waving a hand out to gain his attention. He shook himself from his daze, looking around the circle to find everyone staring at him, anticipatory looks on their faces. Oh shit. “It’s your turn, Parker,” said Sara from his right.

“Right, right, right,” he mumbled, “course, yeah.” The empty beer bottle laid on its side in the centre of the circle on a magazine ‘for optimal spinning,’ as Flash had explained. Peter let out a shaky breath as he leaned up onto his knees to grasp the glass in his hand. This is it, he thought, I’m committed now. Whoever this lands on will be my first kiss. He didn’t move. His hand didn’t leave the bottle. He just stayed there, propped on his knees, hovering over it with wide eyes and a worried look on his face. 

“Hey,” you said gently, pulling his attention from the bottle to your eyes, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Groans of disapproval radiated around the room. 

“So I had to kiss my fucking ex but he doesn’t even have to spin,” he heard a boy say to his right, “fucking unbelievable.”

“Harry,” you cautioned, your voice much harsher than when you were talking to Peter, “back the fuck off, yeah?” The jock just rolled his eyes and sat back in his place silently. 

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll do it,” Peter blurted out, trying desperately to diffuse the tension that had emerged in the room. With closed eyes, he took a deep breath and let it spin. Truth be told, he had twisted it a bit too hard, his super strength emerging with his anxiety, and he watched it with wide eyes as it spun and spun and spun until it slowed down, and then slowed to a stop. 

“Hey,” you whispered, and his eyes traced the neck of the bottle up to you, “You sure you want to do this?” God yes, he thought, I’ve wanted to do this since the second grade. ”Uh, yeah, yeah this is fine.” The room stood still as you shuffled forward towards him, your ripped jeans sliding easily across the shaggy grey rug. With Peter sat back on his heels and you raised up on your knees, your towered over the boy. His nerves radiated from him in waves and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he made himself raise up onto his knees to match your stance. With a burst of courage, he pulled one hand up to cup your jawline softly letting his thumb trace along your cheek and his other fingers spread across the side of your neck. 

“You gonna kiss me or what?” you whispered softly, a teasing yet delicate smile crossing your lips. The corners of his lips turned up to match yours, like always, before he sighed jokingly, “you can’t rush me!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” your twinkly laugh invaded his ears and he swore in that moment he hadn’t heard something so beautiful, “take your time.”

“Okay, this is cute and shit,” Flash interrupted, “but can you guys hurry the fuck up so we can keep playing?” Peter rolled his eyes, making yet another giggle erupt from your lips, drawing his eyes to them. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, almost too quietly for you to hear let alone anyone else. And with a slight nod from you, he leaned in. It wasn’t perfect— the slight clashing of noses, him forgetting to breathe beforehand, and the slight battle of trying not to grin —but it was close enough to perfect for him to want to do it again and again and again. Luckily for him, you did too. 

Taglist : @ptersparkers // @lousimusician // @stephie-senpai // @flirtypeter // @stuckonspidey // @lostparker // @dej-okay // @somethingtoavenge // @shadowsingeraxolotl // @demonsintheair // @parkeroffline // @thegirlwiththeimpala // @btsgot7crackheads

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine

[theoriginalladya]

28: any scene/line you wrote that you didn’t expect to write/that surprised you once it was written?

Simple answer:  ALL OF IT!  

Longer answer/explanation:  No, seriously, I first started getting interested in writing when I was in high school.  I’d go to every writer’s workshop they had whenever I could get out of class, and I really enjoyed it.  But then college hit and any/all creative juice I had just .. vanished.  WRITER’S BLOCK.  That lasted through college and on through grad school and even through my teaching years.  That didn’t mean I didn’t read or do research for potential story ideas - I did, but nothing ever got written but the notes.

After ten years or so, after I left teaching and moved to where I live now, after I got away from academia and started my life ‘over’, the muses started to poke at me.  Slow at first, but it started trickling out.  (I look back now and shudder at those pieces - which I still have, some 25 years later)  I found encouragement in unexpected places (my now Ex, for starters; I sure wasn’t going to get it from my family, even if they knew I was trying to write), and it kept on going.

The biggest push was when my Ex got me Dragon Age for Christmas in 2009.  That changed my whole world!  Story ideas started to flow.  Mass Effect created a TIDAL WAVE, and it hasn’t stopped yet.  My fandoms are relatively limited (DA, ME, Horizon Zero Dawn (maybe), Werewolf: The Apocalypse), but I’ve now ventured back toward writing original fiction too, and so ... yeah.

ALL OF IT.  

But, if you want something more specific, hmm ...  *rolls d20 ....*

~~~~

(taken from my WIP, Mari’s Men; this is the initial draft and needs editing, but it’s a story I am incredibly invested in and will some day be satisfied with)

“Someone approaches.”

Little John’s whispered warning was just loud enoughto catch Marian’s ears.  Carefully, sheeased her way far enough out onto the tree branch to glimpse the figureapproaching them.  From this height andstill distant, all she could determine was that he was dressed in darkclothing.  It was several minutes beforeshe could narrow it down to the black robes of a priest.  He stood tall, broad shouldered, and had thegeneral shape of a man who might be a soldier, she thought.  

“Black canon,” Much mumbled from below.  The shrubs surrounding him showed only theslightest hint of movement as he altered his position, resembling that of abreeze blowing through.  

Her gaze turned again to the man approaching.  Much, as a hunter, had excellent eyesight andcould see more detail than she or even Little John from further away.  She quickly considered her options.  She had inherited Robyn today, so thedecision was hers to make.  There weredangers in approaching men of the cloth and incurring their wrath or the wrathof the good Lord above was not on Marian’s list of duties this day.  “I will speak to him,” she murmured beforescurrying backwards on the limb.  Shecarefully lowered herself to the ground behind the base of the tree andadjusted her hood.  Drawing her bow andnocking an arrow into place, she took a deep breath before stepping out ontothe path.

Robyn’s timing was, as always, excellent and thepriest, now near enough to recognize as a black canon as Much suggested, wasbrought up short.  “Why do you block myway?” he demanded irritably.

Robyn, bow still lowered, stood casually before him,hood drawn far enough forward to hide the upper half of his face fromonlookers.  “You travel through my landswithout permission,” he replied.  “Paythe tax and you shall be free to continue.”

The priest scowled, eyes narrowing as if trying topeer beneath the hood.  “These are theking’s lands.”

“And I am caretaker for good King Richard,” Robyncountered.  “Know this, you will pay oneway or another before we are through. Either the tax with coin, or with your life for trespassing on theking’s land.  What say you?”

The canon straightened, rising to his full heightwhich was substantially taller than Robyn. “And you expect to enforce this law of yours?” he scoffed.  He took a step forward towards Robyn.

Robyn, quicker than it took to blink, had his bowraised, aimed at the man’s heart, pulled the bowstring to its fullextension.  The canon wore no armor; thepiercing would go straight through.  “Ido,” Robyn replied, “and I should think you would see that.  I wish no quarrel with you, canon.”

“No,” the prior replied, “you wish only to rob me ofwhat I do not have.”

Robyn’s head tilted slightly to the side.  “The nearest priory is that of Thurgarton,”he decided.  “Do not tell me you aredestitute.  The conditions of the canonsthere are well known among the rest of the world.”

“I am a prior of Fiskerton,” he said.  Another scowl, darker this time, marked hisface.  “I was banished from Thurgartonbecause I opposed Prior Thomas.”

“Don’t believe him, Robyn!” shouted Little John fromthe left.

“Aye,” Much called out.  From the way his voice carried, he had workedhis way around the priest without notice. “They tax us as heavily as the king and his family!”

“We don’t!” the canon insisted.  Sighing, he pinched the bridge of hisnose.  “Or, rather, I don’t.  I was banished fromThurgarton was because I protested the deviation from the traditions of ourorder: poverty, chastity and obedience.”

“Banished?” Robyn challenged.  “I find that difficult to believe!”

“He lies!” Much shouted, now further to Robyn’s rightbut still behind the canon.  Robyn had nodoubt the man’s bow was aimed and ready.

“My disagreements with Prior Thomas run deep,” heinsisted.  “We both were in the runningfor the position.  Unfortunately for me,Thomas has a better relationship with Prince John.”

Betterrelationship.  They acerbic tone he used left no doubt thatthis prior was, like many others within the church, expecting to be brought upthrough the ranks along with the future king.

“And if you had succeeded instead of Prior Thomas?”Robyn asked.

His eyes were dark to begin with and the slits theynow became were enough to hint at anger, deep and profound.  “Thurgarton would be a better community,” hereplied, “and one not so closely tied to a spoiled prince.”

It was that last that caught Robyn’s attention and thepure hatred (??) in his tone that made the final decision.  Carefully relaxing hold on the bowstring andlowering the weapon, Robyn said, “If you are from Fiskerton, why are you notthere now?”

“Even that has now been denied me,” he replied.  “Prior Thomas, with Prince John’s support,has relieved me of my duties.”  Hesighed, eyes looking upward toward the tree-filled sky.  “I was heading north and considering myoptions.”

“Why north?”

“It is where the road leads?”  He shrugged, eyes falling to settle uponRobyn again.  “I have little but what Iwear,” he admitted.  “I have no coin forlodging or food.  Kill me if you must, butI leave nothing behind.”

Stepping forward, Robyn waved a hand so Little Johnand Much could see it.  “What if I wereto offer you a cathedral beneath the skies, canon?” Robyn asked.  “According to those in positions of power, weare nothing but a group of misguided souls. But we are more than that, and we could use spiritual guidance, if youare of a mind.”

He drew back a step or two and the startled expressionwas easy to identify.  “To what end?”

“Chastity. Poverty.  Obedience,” Robynreplied.  “The poverty we can provide,the chastity, well, I wouldn’t hold your breath on that count.”  Both Little John and Much chuckled.  They were nearer now, but still remained outof easy sight.  “The obedience would beup to you and your skills of persuasion. Do you search for a challenge?”

The canon blinked a few times, looked around them fora moment, then back at Robyn.  “Acathedral under the skies, you said?”

Robyn nodded. “Our camp is in the forest.  Yourcongregation among those most persecuted. This is the only home they have. They come to us willingly, each aiding according to their ownabilities.  We have bakers and tanners,blacksmiths, armorers, seamstresses and ….”

The prior nodded, cutting off Robyn’s speech.  “And outlaws,” he concluded in a voice loudenough for Much and Little John to hear, “in desperate need of Divineintervention.”  Taking a deep breath, hesaid, “I will gladly take on the duties of spiritual advisor, master outlaw,but with one stipulation.”

“That being?”

“I get to speak to you face to face and see you eye toeye.”

A moment of stunned silence rippled around the area,and Robyn heard sputtered protests rise from Much and Little John.  Raising a hand, they silenced.  “I am but a name, priest,” Robynreplied.  “A rumor, a legend among thelocal folk.  I am nothing but --”

“You are their leader, are you not?” hecountered.  “I will give my pledge toyou, and you alone, but I would do it face to face.”

Sighing, Robyn nodded. Shouldering the bow, gloved hands rose and carefully eased the hoodback, settling it around Marian’s neck. She looked up at the priest, green-grey eyes meeting stark brown for along moment and not flinching.  Offeringher hand, she told him, “Welcome to Sherwood, prior.  Have you a name we can call you?”

Unfazed by the appearance of a woman beneath thearcher’s clothing, he extended a hand and took hers.  “Tuck,” he replied.  “I am called Prior Tuck.”

Marian smiled, full recognition settling in.  “And you might have heard of me as LadyMarian FitzWalter,” she told him, “if you have been in these parts for anylength of time.  But these days I am LadyMarian of Loxley.”

His eyes widened in surprise.  “Lord William’s sister?”  She nodded. “I was sent to Fiskerton just after your brother’s return as lord,” heexplained.  “I heard that you came withhim to visit his lands.”

“It has been a long time, and things are certainlydifferent than I hoped,” she said.  

“I thought you were governing in your brother’sabsence?”

“I am,” she agreed, “but Providence has given me anotherpurpose as well.”  Little John and Muchjoined them then and Marian introduced them. “The legend of Robyn and his hoode has taken on new meaning these days,and we try to put it to good use.”

“The Lord has truly guided me then,” he murmured.  “In all honesty, once I was relieved of myduties at Fiskerton, I had no idea where to go. I thought perhaps to York or other points north, but I know no onethere.”

Smiling, Marian nodded towards the north andeast.  “Come with us, prior,” she encouraged.  “We have just what you need.”

#ladya replies #original fic #robin hood #Mari's Men #Robyn Hoode #Much #Little John #Prior Tuck #writer's meme #you asked! lol #long post #guileandgall

[chrisbbaegopayo]

Hold Your Breath (Stray Kids: Stalker AU) ➻ Chapter 3 (part 1)

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Genre: Thriller, Angst, Gore, Mystery, Suspense Characters: All of Stray Kids, reader, OCs. Word Count: 1.2k Warning: This story will contain elements of gore, on- and off-screen abuse, torture, mental illness, and stalking. It will feature themes that are not suitable for all ages, readers discretion is advised. Each chapter will have its own specific warning.

Sorry for the short post. I’ve managed to hit a very bad case of writer’s block, as well as other things, more on that below. (updates will now be once every two weeks)

Chapters: Premise | 01 Prologue | 02 Chapter one | 03 Chapter two | Chapter three (part 1) | Chapter three (part 2)

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She and Hyunjin ended up getting along really well in class, as they introduced themselves in the timeframe that the professor had given them. She learned that he had been here to earn himself a bachelor’s degree in literature, much like his parents wanted. He had been a pretty hardworking student and liked to participate in extra-curricular activities, although he didn’t really elaborate on which clubs he had joined since attending the university.

It had come to a surprise, then, that he knew who she was. It was kind of strange for her to introduce herself to someone who had already know of her—he did say that he knew of her and knew who she was, but never made an attempt to say anything to her, which, to her, was understandable. University could be somewhat of an intimidating place. And Hyunjin, who kept to himself during classes unless he was asked to participate in group work or class discussions, was naturally relatively inside his head. 

He had a small circle of friends, she learned, of which he had dropped after coming to this university. He told her that he stayed in touch with most of them through social media and that he had missed them. 

They didn’t manage to get too deep into their conversation, although he did tell her that he was in a few of her classes back in first and second year, and much of the reason of keeping to himself most of the time didn’t say anything to her, as they were practically strangers.

Professor Lee stopped the discussion then and then began his first lecture. Much of it had to do with what goals to set at the beginning of the semester, what they would be covering throughout the semester, as well as the many assignments they were expected to do and their due dates that accompanied these assignments. Much to her displeasure, every week, there would be a test that summarized the terms they learned the week before, just to keep them on their toes, apparently. This was probably the most for her, as her memorization skills weren’t the best…

…this would also mean that she would have to do a lot of reading. And note-taking. As much as she enjoyed reading, the mind-numbing technical terms might just defeat her.

However, the silver lining was that there would be some hands-on case studies and there might be field trips planned in the course, although the professor did not specifically say if they were definitely included. As for these field trips, they were still in the process of negotiating some plan, of which professor Lee did not specify.

They also had to write two essays throughout the semester. Great.

As the professor started lecturing, he covered what the meaning of crime was, what each term meant, and how it integrated into society on a very base level. As for the rest of the two-hour lecture, Professor Lee merely just taught through most of the time with interesting examples and various experiences that he had encountered. He made things interesting, and the majority of the class was completely engrossed. The mid-lecture break had gone by and soon, had buzzed by without much of a fuss. 

“All right, remember, class, make sure to read up on chapter 2, pages 60 through to 90! You will be expected to go through it with your teaching assistant in your tutorial later,” Professor Lee said. “Feel free to visit during my office hours should you have any questions or problems regarding class! See you next week!”

She placed her notebook in her bag and looked over at Hyunjin, who looked rather pleased with the class. “Tutorial, huh?”

He nodded and leaned back against his chair. “Yeah, it should be exciting. At least the professor was interesting, hopefully, the teacher assistant will be just as interesting. When do you have yours?”

She pulled up her schedule, and scanned it, trying to figure out which day she had her tutorial. Turned out that she had her tutorial at 11:30 a.m. in two days with a person named F. Lee. And upon showing it to Hyunjin, she was surprised to learn that he also shared the same tutorial. It seemed like a pretty pleasant surprise, she thought. To be in the same class and tutorial—it was as though something was being conveyed to her through this strange arrangement. Or not. It just seemed like a pretty interesting coincidence. 

But life didn’t have coincidences, did they? 

Regardless, the two left the lecture room and went their separate ways after swapping numbers. 

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She had never been so glad to be home. After that stalker fiasco earlier on in the day, she was ready to retire to bed. However, she cracked open the textbook she was required to read for the class and sat at her desk, trying to make some from sense from the lectures. She got a few paragraphs into the reading when her phone buzzed with a text message.

>> Hey I’ve got food Open up OMG bless thank you <<

Jisung seemed to know exactly when was hungry because her stomach grumbled a bit. She went downstairs, and as soon as she got to the door, the doorbell rang, and she opened the door, letting her best friend in.

“You always come at the best time, ever,” she said, ushering him into the house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously.”

He laughed. “That’s why I’m your best friend, right?”

The two of them ate and chatted about their day and by the time they finished their food, Jisung had gotten up to toss the containers into the recycling bin. 

She stared at her phone for the time being and sighed. She should go back to reading, but she really didn’t want to do any reading that night. It seemed like a great time to just lay back and chill for a little longer until it was time for her to go to bed.

It was still relatively early in the evening—or late afternoon, and perhaps she could just put her feet up and catch up later on.

But then her mind wandered off to the letter she got—it was unsettling.

“Jisung?” 

He made a noise of acknowledgment, while still staring at his phone. 

“I got another letter.”

His fingers that were once tapping away, seemingly mid-text stopped. He placed his phone down and faced her. “What did it say?”

“It was...something like ‘a new semester will start new things’ or something...and then something about more gifts to come,” she recalled.

Something about Jisung’s expression worried her. 

“Did you file the complaint to the school like I said?” He asked.

She shook her head, but then upon seeing his concerned expression deepen, she held up her hands and reassured him that she was going to file it in the upcoming days.

“I haven’t exactly had time, you know, I promise I will—I’ll even let you know! I promise!” 

He sighed, and with a heavy tone, he said, “fine, as long as you know.”

She was about to say something when he leaned over and put his hand atop her head, almost in a maternal gesture.

“I’m just really worried about you, you know? These are just some precautions that you have to take, okay?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, thank you, Jisung, you’re always looking out for me...”

He chuckled, “that’s what I’m here for, remember?”

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Sorry about the lack of updates lately. I’ve managed to land myself in a really deep ditch called writer’s block, and it’s honestly really draining to write when my motivation is zero most of the time. Sorry, it’s been pretty hard most of the time, especially balancing both work and creative writing at the same time. I do writing for my day job too, and every day I’ve pretty much felt like I’ve exhausted most of my writing into work, and the creative juices are NOT flowing into what should belong to creative writing. Hashtag excuses lol.

However, I did find a good way to keep my motivation up—the story is planned out, I know what’s going to happen in the bigger picture, but the details aren’t exactly set. Sometimes if I see an opportunity to implement new ideas, I will, such as relationships between certain characters and their history and such. I do have several pages of notes of the character’s relationships and backstories.

I will be publishing their backstories starting with Hyunjin, and I think it will make for interesting future plot segments. 

As well, I will be changing the updates to every two weeks until I can get out of this really bad writer’s block. 

Whether or not people like to read it or not, I’ll just keep on writing anyway because I genuinely do love creative writing. As well, I have been planning this story for wayyyy too long and even though my execution of the story might be slow and not what my mind wants me to write, I think I want to continue regardless. I’m just really grateful for the readers that I do have, and appreciate the time you invest in my story. Please feel free to poke me/talk to me about the story and let me know what you think of it. I know I haven’t advanced enough into the story for people have a true understanding or grasp of it, but I will be publishing the character’s relationships with each other and how they’re all connected. Because they are.

If I have any jumping tense problem—I’m sorry, I do try my best to catch them while writing, and I will improve and do my best not to disappoint too much.

Thank you! c:

#stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids scenarios #yandere au #thriller #fanfiction #kpop scenarios #han jisung #original character #bang chan #kim woojin #kim Seungmin #jisung #ChangBin #seo changbin #Lee Minho #minho #Felix #lee felix #yang jeongin #suspense #might contain gore #stalker AU #alternate universe #kpop