Words to describe facial expressions

Absent: preoccupied 

Agonized: as if in pain or tormented

Alluring: attractive, in the sense of arousing desire

Appealing: attractive, in the sense of encouraging goodwill and/or interest

Beatific: blissful

Black: angry or sad, or hostile

Bleak: hopeless

Blinking: surprise, or lack of concern

Blithe: carefree, lighthearted, or heedlessly indifferent

Brooding: anxious and gloomy

Bug eyed: frightened or surprised

Chagrined: humiliated or disappointed

Cheeky: cocky, insolent

Cheerless: sad

Choleric: hot-tempered, irate

Darkly: with depressed or malevolent feelings

Deadpan: expressionless, to conceal emotion or heighten humor

Despondent: depressed or discouraged

Doleful: sad or afflicted

Dour: stern or obstinate

Dreamy: distracted by daydreaming or fantasizing

Ecstatic: delighted or entranced

Faint: cowardly, weak, or barely perceptible

Fixed: concentrated or immobile

Gazing: staring intently

Glancing: staring briefly as if curious but evasive

Glazed: expressionless due to fatigue or confusion

Grim: fatalistic or pessimistic

Grave: serious, expressing emotion due to loss or sadness

Haunted: frightened, worried, or guilty

Hopeless: depressed by a lack of encouragement or optimism

Hostile: aggressively angry, intimidating, or resistant

Hunted: tense as if worried about pursuit

Jeering: insulting or mocking

Languid: lazy or weak

Leering: sexually suggestive

Mild: easygoing

Mischievous: annoyingly or maliciously playful

Pained: affected with discomfort or pain

Peering: with curiosity or suspicion

Peeved: annoyed

Pleading: seeking apology or assistance

Quizzical: questioning or confused

Radiant: bright, happy

Sanguine: bloodthirsty, confident

Sardonic: mocking

Sour: unpleasant

Sullen: resentful

Vacant: blank or stupid looking

Wan: pale, sickly

Wary: cautious or cunning

Wide eyed: frightened or surprised

Withering: devastating

Wrathful: indignant or vengeful

Wry: twisted or crooked to express cleverness or a dark or ironic feeling

No writer has all three:

A good relationship with reality

A socially acceptable search history

Actual motivation

Helloo~ could I request a hero who doesnt want to be a hero and the villain catches them having a crying/mental breakdown from anxiety?

"Careful," the villain said, "you don't want anyone else to see you like this. You're a new one, aren't you?"

The hero whipped around, scrubbing desperately at their tear-stained face. It didn't hide the shattering anywhere near quick enough. It didn't take back what had already been exposed. To them.

The villain held their hands up, all soothing-like. "Easy. Don't go off on me."

As if the hero was a bomb, to be managed and contained. They felt a little like that some days.

Still, for all of the villain's obvious wariness, they did not appear frightened. At least, not frightened enough not to have initiated the conversation in the first place.

The hero gulped. Everyone thought the worst part of the job was fighting villains; monsters of terrible power and cruelty. It wasn't. The worst part was being the thing that monsters were scared of, and wondering what the hell that made you.

"If you let me reach in my pocket," the villain said, "I can give you a handkerchief."

"You carry handkerchiefs?"

"A wet wipe. But that sounded less glamorous."

The hero snorted, thick and choked, and dabbed at their face with their sleeve.

The villain reached slowly into their jacket, keeping their movements unthreatening and easy to track.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the hero muttered. They realised as they said it that the words alone were another unforgiveable omission, worse even than crying. Heroes were supposed to fight villains. Nobody explicitly said anything about hurting them, sure, but there was no way a collision of super-powers didn't cause damage.

The villain offered them the packet of wet wipes. "Good to carry," they said. "You know, helps with the blood and stuff in a pinch."

There was something terrible about that which made the hero's eyes well up again.

The villain cursed, taking a step towards them before faltering - not quite getting close. "You need to stop crying." The villain voice was low, urgent. "Before someone else sees you. I'm sorry."

The hero nodded, gulped, tried to shove it all back down again. It didn't work so well. They felt like they were going to puke.

"I'm sorry," the villain said, again. They looked a little devastated too, if one knew what to look for.

"Why? Is it your fault?"

The villain's jaw clenched.

The hero concentrated on taking some deep breaths, in and out, trying to keep their vision from tunnelling with panic.

"This happening to you a lot?" the villain asked.

"Of course not. I'm a hero."

It was the villain's turn to snort, mirthlessly and without mockery. "Right. Shed a single pretty tear on the photo ops, but don't lose it in the back alley. Heroes."

The hero glanced up, sharply, at that.

The villain shrugged, a little awkwardly. "I've been in this game a while. I know what's expected of you. I don't know if it helps or not to know that you're not the only one who, um, feels like you do."

"And how do I feel?" It came out nearly a snarl.

The villain didn't flinch. "Like you don't want to do this, like you can't do this, but you have to. Otherwise they'll take you back to the academy to retrain you."

Ice plunged through the hero at the thought. Their breathing turned ragged. They didn't remember their knees buckling, but when they next blinked they were on the floor, curled up against the wall, rocking a little. Someone was making an awful sound.

"Hey," the villain said softly. They were crouched in front of the hero, dangerously close to a pool of tarmac turning to overheated sludge where the hero's hands were. "They're not going to do that. You're alright. Listen, you're alright. Okay? Look at me."

The hero looked at them, reeling.

"You could kill me," the hero said, barely above a whisper. "Maybe I lost. That happens, doesn't it? Occasionally? We lose to people like you?"

"Sure," the villain said, "and then they kill me, and replace you with a new shiny thing."

"We'd be free though."

"Dying for their cause is not freedom. You'd just be a martyr to manipulate the next generation with. Is that what you want?"

"I don't care."

"Yes," the villain said, and offered another wet wipe, "you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't be losing it in a back alley out of sight."

The hero took the next wet wipe, pressing the cool damp cloth to their eyes. Burning. Swollen. Prickly. They took another few breaths. "Why are you helping me?"

"Us heroes and villains have got to stick together. It's not like anyone else is looking out for us."

"Until they order us to kill you, anyway."

"Yeah," the villain said, "until then."

"Does it get easier?"

"You'll stop caring. That can be easier."

"You haven't."

"Yeah, well. That's why they want me dead so bad. Inability to stop giving a crap about heroes. I didn't self-detonate quietly in a back alley, you see, I tried to blow up the academy. Sadly didn’t manage to get it all."

"Wait. That was you? You're..." The hero's eyes widened. They shrank back, heart pounding.

"Head of the opposition," the villain said. "Yeah." They stood up, and offered the hero their hand. "So, stop crying, keep it together, and maybe if we're lucky I might just be able to get you out of this. If you want. But I can’t do that if they see you breaking."

The hero took the hand, after a moment's hesitation, and the villain hauled them to their feet. They faced each other.

"You can do that? You can really stop me being a hero?"

"Kid," they said, with something like a smile, "I’m a villain. Stopping heroes is what I'm all about."

HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here."

"I'm not leaving you, [name]."

"You're not alone, I promise."

"You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."

"C'mere, let me hold you-"

"Sure, we can snuggle if it will make you feel better."

"Here, hold my hand."

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but I have to stitch up that wound."

"Show me where it hurts."

"I know you're hurt, [name]."

"Let me take care of it, alright? You need to rest."

"I'm here to take care of you, [name]."

"There's no shame in crying. I promise."

"Let me take care of things for once, alright?"

"Don't worry, it'll get better soon."

What does yellow mean? Is it only for the sun to define? Is it happyness and hope? Is it only for things that shine? Yellow for me means I’m trying and thus in a cosmic perspective I am precious. I see yellow painted in poetries and prose; and if I may ask, is there such a thing as a yellow rose? Yellow are the mornings that break me into a thousand laughters; Yellow are my best friends I dance in love. Yellow are the children with imaginations that touch the sky; Yellow are the soft souls who soothes broken wings to fly. If you’ve found your yellow, then you’re the luckiest being; Can’t you see the stars tonight? Yellow is the loveliest feeling.

Juansen Ryne Dizon, A yellow poem

August Prompts 🍋

Word prompts to use for doodling or writing

sunglasses

underwater

backpack

shade

pavilion

sentimental

tent

garden party

swimming pool

coconut

popsicle

island

spicy food

airplane

bubbles

watermelon

palm tree

seashells

ocean

parasol

snorkel

Wanderlust

vintage

bugs

string lights

homemade lemonade

surfboard

polaroid photos

childhood friends

summer reading

water park

hello! Could i request a villain with lie-detector powers who is fighting a hero and can tell that hero likes them (and they like hero back?)

"I know you like me," the villain said. "I don't know why you insist on lying to yourself, so."

"I'm not lying."

"So tell me." The villain appeared in front of the hero once more, a smile curling one of their corner of their lips. "Tell me that you don't like me. Tell me, in those exact words, that I don't make your heart pound? That you don't look forward to every time you see me?"

The hero glared at them, face-flushed. "I'd rather take you in."

"Liar."

The hero came to a reluctant stop at the sing-song voice. Their teeth gritted.

"I reveal the rotten truth in this golden beacon of a city," the villain said, more seriously, and the hero's insides jolted. They'd expected the usual teasing, not...

The villain was continuing, eyes hard. "I expose the lies told by the politicians, and the police, and your handlers."

"You cause mass panic and undermine-" the hero didn't finish, because the villain would hear the lie, the creeping doubt that maybe the hero no longer believed the good side to be as good as they had once thought.

It was true that the villain did have a habit of causing mass panic, but that wasn't truly the villain's fault. Sure, the villain could be ruthless in their timing for revealing certain truths, but they were only exposing the actions that other people had already taken and tried to hide.

"You know why they're so desperate to get you to knock me out and take me in," the villain said. "Why they're so desperate to never let me talk."

It was true that the prime directive of any hero despatched to take on 'The Lie Detector', as dumb as their name was, was to go for the mouth. Silence words. The head of the Super League said it was the only way to protect oneself from the villain's manipulations, from the poison they would spew like toxic radiation.

The hero had listened one too many times already, they knew that.

"I know you like me," the villain said, and the smile was entirely gone from their face now. "And I know you wouldn't like me if you honestly thought I was as bad as they told you I am. So, stop. Please. Stop. We both know I'm not going to win a physical fight with you. Do you know what they'll do with me when they take me in?"

The hero stared at them, heart pounding.

"It doesn't matter," the hero said, finally. There was a reason that they didn't want to say the truth aloud. "It can't matter."

"One of those was a lie." The villain studied them with equal intensity, scouring their face.

Of course it mattered and, of course, it couldn't.

"Do you know what will happen when you tear this city down?" the hero asked, because they had no doubt the villain would and could succeed in that. "Do you think the new people the league put in charge will be any better? That you'll keep them honest?"

"I can try," the villain said. "The people will rise, once they truly know-"

"You tell the people the truth, to the point that they snap, and the League will slaughter them."

The villain did not accuse them of lying, that time. The villain swallowed, fingers flexing at their sides, tracking the hero's moves in anticipation for a continued attack.

The hero couldn't bring themselves to move, not yet.

"I want to help them," the hero said. "You know that's true."

"I know you're scared."

"I'd be an idiot if I wasn't," the hero snapped. "Aren't you?"

The villain looked down, but the hero still caught the flicker of fear flashing across their face.

"I want to help them," the hero said, again. "And that means I need to be where I am, on the inside. Where I can do some good."

"Good like shutting me up?"

"That," the hero said, gentler, more broken. "Is why I insist on lying to myself. Because what's the alternative?" They took a step closer, looming over the villain, who suddenly seemed so small for a thing that caused such cataclysmic panic in the hero's employers. "Love you and lose you? We both know you've always been the strong one out of the two of us, my super-strength be damned."

"You could fight with me."

"To what end?"

"To take down the League."

"And then the other villains will have nothing stopping them, once the League is gone. The ones that aren't like you. I know you think - I know you think we're all corrupt," the hero said, "and maybe you're right. Some of us are. A lot of us are. But we're still not them."

"You just said the League would slaughter the masses!"

"Only if they felt sufficiently pushed. The villains would do it for fun. For profit."

The League maintained, at least, a shiny surface. Everything could seem fine, coasting along the skin of life. There wasn't blood on the streets. People, for the most part, were happy, right? They were safe. So long as they stayed out of the way, they were safe. The hero knew that system. They could work it. Offer what protection they could. In a world ruled by the villains...well, there would be nothing hold back the people already willing to lie and cheat. The truth wouldn't stop them, it would only set them free of the frail shackles of social acceptability, and the hero couldn't take that risk. They couldn't.

The villain looked at them for a moment, with such abject disappointment that it made the hero's insides shrivel.

The hero took the final step closer, cradling the villain's jaw in their hand. "I'm sorry." They felt ready to cry. "I can't risk everything for the truth. For you. I have too many other people to..." they stopped, again. This time simply because their throat felt too tight to talk.

"I love you," the villain said, and reached up to press a palm to the back of the hero's neck. "But that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And I can't let you lie to yourself anymore."

The hero felt the device click, and whir, and they slumped to the ground, gasping. Their strength refused to come. Their body didn't want to move.

The villain crouched down, brushing the hair from the hero's eyes. Their face swum in and out of the hero's hazy vision.

"You cling to a system that will bleed you dry," the villain said. "At least the monsters will be honest about it."

Sometimes I get tired of the everythingness of everything, so I retreat to my bed and read. I read and let time fly like a bird that’s hit by a truck, and I’m in a place where peace is timeless. I overthink about doing everything that I need to do all at once, that I drown in the anxiety of heaviness. Reading is coming up to the surface to breathe, and I am learning to perceive before I judge. I am learning to refine my mind before taking action, and I am learning to think with my heart. Because literature, fantasy, and getting my mind caught in the clouds … these are the things that inspire me to live better in reality. And so I close my book, draw the curtains and let the light in everything I’m supposed to do and let the chapter of today be enough.

Juansen Dizon, A Diary Entry about Reading

Stumbling upon your blog must be my lucky lucky day 😊 I've looked through your FAQ and didnt see anything addressing a pantser plotting a story so... Hopefully this ask is ok! If not, I'm sorry to bother. I'm a pantser, not a plotter but I have an idea for a long fic. How should I go about it without losing interest..? Maybe interest isn't quite the right word. Cause one time I had an idea, I plotted it with beats but then lost interest / got too intimidated by it... Thank you in advance!

Plotting for Pantsers and Pantsing for Plotters

For those of you who don't already know, when it comes to beginning a new project, the writing world consists of two very different groups of people: plotters and pansters.

Plotters meticulously outline their stories from start to finish, and although they benefit from cohesive, streamlined work, they often hit a wall of writer's block and lose creativity from over-plotting.

Pansters just go with the flow, and despite the freedom that allows them to write whatever they want and boosts writing motivation, their stories often suffer from lack of cohesion and can take a while to get to the point.

In order to make a long project, such as a fanfic or a novel, as successful as it can be, you need to be a mix of both.

You need to plot in order to make sure you don't over/underwrite and can optimize your narrative, while also leaving room for flexibility that allows you to make your own creative decisions and prevent writer's block.

Here's how to do it. It's all in the outline.

Unfortunately for pantsers, all long works should have an outline so you know what points you have to hit along the way.

Unfortunately for plotters, it's restricting and unnecessary to have every single detail planned to a T.

A simple "here's whats going to happen in this chapter" should be enough. It doesn't have to be long. Hell, it can just be one bullet point! But as long as you have a general idea of what needs to happen, you can make the rest!

This leaves enough structure for plotters but enough wiggle room for pantsers!

An example:

Chapter 1

Bar scene

Introduce Character A

Talk with Character B

Foreshadow Character B's betrayal

See? This is a very, very loose idea of what's going to happen in this chapter.

In fact, this is just a list of all the things that HAVE TO happen to make the story go forward; you can still add your own things to it to make it your own!

Tell yourself what is going to happen. Not how it's going to happen.

Hero forced to go on a date with a villain to convince them to help? Hero is terrified and villain is flirty. (Love your writing so much ❤️)

"Oh, good," the villain purred. "You received the clothes I sent you."

The hero's skin prickled under the villain's admiring gaze, heat rushing to their face.

The villain smirked, even though the blush was hardly flustered pleasure, so much as some flushed combination of helpless, frightened fury and humiliation. The villain made a twirling gesture with their finger.

The hero turned in a slow circle, however much they hated putting their back to the villain for even a second. Not that it mattered. The villain was just as dangerous standing in front of them as behind them. The hero still jumped when they turned to find the villain right in front of them, movements perfectly silent. Or maybe the hero's heart was simply pounding too loud to hear.

"You are even more stunning than usual," the villain said. "Now say hello." They tapped their cheek.

The hero leaned in, dizzy, and pressed a quick chaste kiss where the villain indicated.

The villain curled an arm around them, pulling them flush in one easy movement.

The hero squeaked.

Any thought that this could even vaguely be like a normal date, with the same expected courtesies, social niceties and distance, vanished. They really hoped they weren't expected to put out on the first date too. They weren't sure what they do would do if that was the price that the villain demanded in return to their aid.

The hero tried to focus on the main goal, but their every instinct twitched to have the villain so close. It made it difficult to think straight.

The villain inhaled, lips brushing the hero's cheek in turn. "Fear," they said. "Is such an exquisite perfume on you, my dear."

Then the two of them teleported.

The villain's ability was such that they could transport themselves across both great distances, and also great time periods. The only thing they needed to do it was some small thread, an item or even a memory, to connect them to where they wanted to go.

It made them almost virtually impossible to imprison or out-trick.

It also made them the only person the hero knew who could rescue the trapped civilians before it was too late.

Unfortunately for the hero, 'too late' for the villain, given their abilities, was rather less of a ticking time bomb than it was for the hero's stress levels. How long would they draw it out? There were still limits, there had to be. Bringing back the dead on one's own timeline was a rather different skill, after all.

The two of them appeared upon an empty beach, the sky lit the same fading gold as the sand. The air was warm and sweet. There was a picnic blanket awaiting beneath a small marquee like-covering, its hangings entwined with glimmering lights. There was a picnic basket, too.

"I'm told," the villain said, "that you enjoy picnics."

The hero was never going to enjoy a picnic ever again.

Their stomach squeezed, unsure how they were even going to manage to eat anything without hurling. Except, well, they could imagine how well throwing up in the middle of the date would go. They resisted the urge to start running, or at least recoil. They let the villain lead them to sit down instead.

The villain retrieved delicate glasses, too fine for any normal picnic, and poured them - it was the hero's favourite wine, too. Their favourite food. How could the villain know? How intently did they watch?

The hero shoved away another wave of dizziness.

"So," they said. "You said you'd consider helping, if I came to this date with you. I'm here, so-"

The villain clicked their tongue and held up their glass in toast. "Don't be so eager to skip the foreplay, love. You'll need it."

The hero nearly dropped the glass in panic.

The villain smiled, head tilted in that admiring way once more.

"I said I'd go on a date." The hero tried to keep their voice light, careless, suitably at an advantage. "That was it. I said nothing about how long that date would be, or how good it would be. I've shown you what it can be like if I behave, but-"

"But if I don't help you, you'll be a naughty little hero?" The villain bit down on their lip, as if delighting in the idea.

The hero stopped short, feeling like they'd put their foot in a minefield. An active one.

The villain laughed, softly. "Whatever would I do with you, if you did that?"

"You could save them now," the hero tried again, mouth dry. "Come back, after - I'm not going anywhere." There was nothing light or careless in their voice now. "Where would I go? I have no idea where we even are."

And thinking about that, about being somewhere completely alone with the villain...

"And miss that adorable desperation on your face? Sweetheart."

The villain sounded chiding, and the hero shivered.

They gulped down a mouthful of wine but couldn't taste it over the acrid panic burning in their throat.

The villain settled back, perfectly at ease, and set their glass their down. They arranged food on...there was only one plate. One plate, two forks. The villain loaded up a bite, holding the morsel out the hero's mouth, eyes agleam with dark amusement, with a hunger that had nothing to do with the horrifyingly delicious scents surrounding them.

"I'm curious," the villain said, "how far you'd go save them. And the night is still so young! Shall we find out?"

In the end, everyone was saved from the caves and the oncoming tide. In the end, the hero lay upon a picnic basket, cool evening air stroking bare skin and...

And the villain stopped. Arms braced on either side of the hero's head, studying them.

"I said I wanted to see how far you'd go to save them," the villain said. "I didn't say I'd make you do it. When you pick me you'll do it of your own volition."

The hero stared at them, brain un-computing.

The villain smiled, and pressed their fingers to the hero's lips instead, parting them a fraction.

"They're saved, my dear. Have been for a while. Now." They sat up, and pulled back. "Shall we do this again and see what you do next time? I still can't quite predict you...you're incredible."

And time looped back to the beginning of the evening again.

the sexual tension between me and the blank word doc i've been staring at for two hours

A list of summer aesthetics

Dancing to an old record.

New hair cuts, because change is always good.

The smell of sunscreen

Classic movies marathon.

Pressed flowers hidden in your favorite books.

Slow mornings when all you could hear is the sound of the birds singing enchanting lullabies.

Starting a new wardrobe color palette and daring to be more creative while matching your clothes

Spending quality time with quality people.

The mixed  smell of tea and a well backed cake you made.

Doing a handwritten list of books you’ve been craving to read, and hanging it on the wall, so you can see it everyday.

Taking time to learn a new skill.

Going back to hobbies that used to make you happy back in the days.

Writing in the Details

Details can add another layer to your story, particularly if it’s a character driven piece in which the reader is privy to the minutia of your protagonist’s life. You never want to include details which are boring: discussing your main character’s breakfast is usually a no-no, unless it’s an unusual dish which reveals something about them. For example, if your hero always eats fish, there might be a reason for that - mentioning it could make the character stand out, and this is doubly true if it has a bearing on the plot later. If the character eating fish is an adopted mermaid who’s spent his life thinking he’s human, then mentioning his breakfast, and the fact that he has sea food for every meal, becomes relevant. 

Even details which aren’t as personal to your character can enhance your story, though they should be used in moderation. As a writer, you should describe the warmth of the sun on your character’s back, how the sun burns their toes, and how green the forest smells - not only to bring us into their world, and make us feel we’re there, but to set a tone.

It might seem cliché, but describing how frigid a sad character is as they tramp through the rain, or how the breath was knocked from their lungs as a truck splashed them in a downpour, sets a mood. Rain is effective in evoking moods which are sad, despairing, and tired. Rain underscores how rundown your protagonist is, showing us their internal emotions without having to describe them.

Rain in films and other stories is common, because it works. It will continue to work. Whether we think it’s overused or not, we’ll keep seeing it again because it’s effective. All types of weather can be. That said, don’t overdo it. Many writers, especially new ones, fall into the trap of describing everything. They write five pages of description, and your reader forgets what was happening in the story. Description should exist to bring you into the story. It should never distract from the story, or sideline it completely. 

Try to think of a character’s physical attributes, too, when writing. I’m not just talking about their wardrobe (though, if interesting enough, that can certainly add something to the character). Hair length doesn’t seem like a thrilling detail, and if it’s tossed into a lengthy grocery list of a character’s physical attributes it isn’t. In action, though, it can make your character’s place in the world seem more real. This sounds weird, but let me explain!

Within your world, your character occupies a physical space. When I mentioned the heat of the sun on a character’s back, you probably felt it yourself. Your character’s hair and clothes play a similar role to the elements. It should be subtle. If your character has a pixie cut, describe the breeze on her neck. If your character has long hair, have them smile when they keep finding strands everywhere; if they’re nervous in a scene, show those nerves by having them play with their hair. If a character is going on a date, they might fuss with such long hair -pulling it into braids, curling it, and then, frustrated, settling with a ponytail. 

If your introverted hero is being dragged to a Christmas party, to see that one relative, describing how itchy their ugly sweater continues to be throughout the evening can underscore their frustration with the evening. That’s right - a horrible holiday sweater can set a tone. It can even be a metaphor for how “itchy” those annoying family members make your character feel. It can be a metaphor for how bothered your hero always is, in addition to bringing your reader into the scene with you.

Details engage our other senses, including touch, smell, and sound. They seem insignificant, but they can make a world more real, place your reader into the protagonist’s shoes, and even set a tone for a scene or a book. 

Hair and sweaters seem small, but if used right they can elevate your writing.

Hello! I adore your work so so much, and I was wondering if you could write a snippet where the antagonist is the only person who can touch the protagonist, so the antagonist starts teasingly flirting with them about it. It could be slightly NSWF as well! Thank you :)

"You're so responsive," the antagonist murmured. "Starving for even the smallest of touches."

The protagonist's breath hitched.

They knew they should move back, knew they should knock the antagonist's hand away, knew they should tell them to 'get the hell off' in no uncertain terms. They didn't do any of those things. Just like they hadn't last time, or the time before that. They watched the tips of the antagonist's fingers as it traced down the sleeve of the protagonist's shirt, not yet touching skin.

But they could.

The antagonist could touch, and so the protagonist stared entranced, anticipation notching along each rib as their heart pounded in their chest.

They could feel the antagonist's eyes burning into their face, examining them, watching the way that even the thought of contact laid the protagonist bare.

The antagonist's fingers stopped, pressed atop the protagonist's racing pulse.

The protagonist knew, theoretically, that they didn't have to wait. They could simply reach out, but...well, if they did that with anyone else then the other person would die. The protagonist's touch was toxic. So they held still, pulse betraying them, their own fingers gripping the materials of their jeans in a white-knuckle hold. They waited.

The antagonist shifted a little closer in their own chair, expression barely visible in the dim light. Their knees brushed.

The protagonist squeezed their eyes shut.

They heard the antagonist laugh, softly. Then the protagonist felt the antagonist's other hand pushing back their hood, tucking their hair back behind their ears. The antagonist's hand was so warm. And their - their lips, as they grazed against the delicate shell of the protagonist's ear, was even warmer.

The protagonist bit back an absurd whimper.

They could feel the puff of the antagonist's breath, perfectly steady.

"Is it too much?" the antagonist teased. "Should I stop-"

"Don't you dare," the protagonist hissed.

The antagonist laughed again. They dipped their head, nuzzling a kiss against the hollow of the protagonist's throat. Their fingers slipped down, off the protagonist's sleeve, tugging off the protagonist's glove.

The protagonist's hand tingled in the cool air. They let their wrist curl, then, just skimming the antagonist's palm as they let the glove drop carelessly to the floor. The antagonist entwined their fingers properly for a moment and gave the protagonist's hand a firm squeeze.

The protagonist had never even imagined they would be able to have that much, once.

"I'm going to wreck you." There was a promise in the antagonist's voice. "Now, tell me please."

"Please." It slipped out, without hesitation, without thought.

The antagonist grinned against their skin, all teeth.

They made achingly slow work of the rest of the protagonist's clothes after that.

what people think writing is: worldbuilding, churning out entire chapters in one sitting, metaphors, character building, finishing novels, flawless plotlines

what writing actually is: random 1 am thoughts, zoning out into fictional worlds, associating songs with characters, writer’s block for six weeks at a time, coming up with plot twists at the most inconvenient times

A list of nice words we should use more to describe people

Adventurous : willing to undertake new and daring enterprises.

Affectionate : having or displaying warmth or fondness.

Ambitious : having a strong desire for success or achievement.

Amiable : diffusing warmth and friendliness.

Brave : not being afraid of danger.

Considerate : showing concern for the rights and feelings of others.

Courageous : able to face and deal with danger or fear without flinching.

Courteous : characterized by politeness and gracious good manners.

Diligent : characterized by care and perseverance in carrying out tasks.

Empathetic : showing ready comprehension of others' states.

Exuberant : unrestrained, especially with regard to feelings.

Gregarious : temperamentally seeking and enjoying the company of others.

Humble : marked by meekness or modesty; not arrogant or prideful.

Impartial : free from undue bias or preconceived opinions.

Intuitive : obtained through instinctive knowledge.

Inventive : marked by independence and creativity in thought or action.

Kind : behaving in a caring way towards people

Passionate : having or expressing strong emotions.

Philosophical : meeting trouble with level-headed detachment.

Practical : guided by experience and observation rather than theory.

Rational : having its source in or being guided by the intellect.

Reliable : worthy of trust.

Resourceful : adroit or imaginative.

Sensible : able to feel or perceive.

Sincere : open and genuine; not deceitful.

Sympathetic : expressing compassion or friendly fellow feelings.

Witty : demonstrating striking cleverness and humor.

Hi! I found your blog and am obsessed with your writing, it’s so amazing! I was wondering if I could perhaps get a prompt about an unseelie seducing the human into their realm and the human only finding out their cruel nature at the last minute?

I don't write prompts anymore, but I can do you a modern-typewriter original story snippet.

Their lover's cottage was lovely, quaint, all white stone and wildflowers. Their lover's cottage was a threshold, apparently, beneath their lands. The front door led to the human world, and the back door to the fields and the forests of the immortal courts.

"Are you ready?" the fey looked back at them, still holding the human's hand in theirs. They raised it to their lips for a kiss. "I understand if you don't want to do this..."

"I do!" It felt xenophobic to be frightened. Their lover had been patient with them, never complaining of homesickness - always smiling so beautifully, so sadly, as they thought of what they had left behind. What kind of person were they if were scared of seeing all the magic in the world? Of their lover, just because the world wasn't human? "I want to see." It wasn't a lie.

They'd always thought there should me to the world than what humans had. That was why so many people wrote stories about magic, wasn't it? Hoping for a glimmer of something extraordinary. And now...now they, of all people, had it. They had it and their lover was sweet and thoughtful and brilliant and so gorgeous that it almost hurt to look at them.

The fey smiled at them, bright as the sun.

They didn't know how they'd got so lucky.

"Of course I want to see your home," the human said, more firmly. "I'd never ask you to split yourself in half and stay with me forever, as if you're not what you are. That wouldn't be fair."

The human was, therefore, the one to led the way forward. They pushed the door open with fey's key - moving past a comfortable, elegant living room and a kitchen that smelled like baking bread and herbs.

"Just through the back?" they asked their lover, heart hammering.

"Just through the back," the fey echoed, softly.

The human drew a steadying breath and went through to the back door, stepping out into...

"Wow," the human breathed.

The world ahead of them was unlike anything they'd ever imagined. It was wild and it was magic. The trees shone like they were bioluminescent, vivid green and flowering against the pitch back night. They took a step forward, then another. Music drifted through the trees, something orchestral and lilting that made the human's chest ache. They turned to face the fey, wide-eyed, and - stopped.

They had never seen the fey look like they did just then.

In the human world, the fey didn't quite register as fully human, but they were close. A little too pretty, maybe. A little too graceful. Their lover only looked like their lover in the way that a painting could capture something of someone's essence. Their lover now was - the air around them felt different, cold. Not the cool of the sea washing gently over hot skin on a sunny day, but painfully frozen. And their eyes...

"Sweet little human," their lover crooned. Even their voice was different. It had always been like music, but now..."what's the matter?" the fey tilted their head. "I thought you wanted me to be able to be completely myself? Because you love me?"

The human bolted for the cottage door, still so small and so human looking. It didn't open. The key hole was gone.

The fey made a wounded sound.

The human whipped around, and then the fey was there, pressing them up against the wood in a mockery of intimacy. Their fingers closed on the human's hair, tugging their head back with a sharp yank, baring the human's throat.

"Say it again," the fey murmured against their lips. Their breath was like honeysuckle. "Go on."

"Why-I don't-"

"Say it." The fey's nails dug in.

Tears, bewildered and hurt, sprang to the human's eyes. Still. They straightened their spine against the door as best as they could.

"You said you loved me too." The human clutched hold of the fey's hand. "Your kind can't lie."

"Of course I love you," the fey said. "You simply have a mortal's adorable comprehension of what that means. Are you going to make me ask again?"

The human swallowed. They studied the fey's face, searching for something they recognised. The problem wasn't that there was nothing recognisable - there was too much, and not enough, and they'd been so blind.

"I love you," the human whispered. "And you're offended by the lie, aren't you?"

The fey looked momentarily surprised. Their grip loosened a fraction, enough to mimic something mortal.

"You hate that I would claim to love you and care for you when I don't know anything about you at all. Well." The human smiled, without mirth. "No more than 10% of you. How dare I call 10% love?"

It was the right and the wrong thing to say, they could see it on their lover's face. Right because it was why the fey loved them, why they'd picked them. Wrong because it was why the fey loved them, and why they'd picked them, and the human barely knew what that meant but the door was locked so it couldn't mean anything good.

The fey leaned in and kissed them, fierce and claiming, and the human had never been kissed like that before.

"Don't worry," the fey said, with a cruel smile hat still had the audacity to be stunning. "You have the rest of your life to make it up to me. For once you were blind..." They kissed the human's nose. "Now you will see."

They swept the human up into their arms, spun on their heel, and carried them into the lights and the dark.

Forever.

little intimate things that leave me breathless

feel free to use these as prompts

you're talking on the phone and your lover quietly comes up behind you, wraps their arms around you, and starts gently kissing your neck. you begin to lose focus on your phone call as you concentrate on not making any noise.

your crush gently touching you on the arm or putting their hand on your shoulder as you two have a conversation.

having a piece of hair brushed off your face as you're reading or looking down.

looking at your crush or lover only to find them already looking at you and when you make eye contact, they smile at you.

holding hands while having sex and/or making out.

"i'm so proud of you."

being asked "are you sure?" (there's nothing sexier than consent)

you and your lover sitting next to each other at a table and they rest their hand on your thigh, gently rubbing their thumb back and forth.

your lover playing with your hair or vice versa.

telling a stupid joke and hearing your crush laugh.

helping your lover fix their tie or zip up their dress. or, you two helping each other undress.

telling your partner how stressed out you are and they are simply just listening before opening their arms and holding you until you feel better.

"i love you."

50 Cute Date Ideas

taking a rain walk

going to a library and showing each other their favourite books

visiting a waterpark together

taking a walk through a park or a forest and admiring the colors

going to the zoo and pointing out the coolest animals

playing disk golf together

doing a scavenger hunt for cute little trinkets

visiting a museum about something you know nothing about

going to a bookshop and selecting books for each other

having a picknick with lots of seasonal food

visiting a brewery and doing a tasting

going to a café with an amazing tea selection

watching movies together while it storms outside

visiting a park and playing basketball or football together

going on a bicycle tour and finding new places

making pottery together and carving in their initials as a memento for the cute date

playing board games in a small café

going thrift shopping together or checking out a flea market

getting trash bags and cleaning up a public place together

going on a night hike and enjoying the dark and silent world with just each other as company

singing karaoke together

going inline skating and trying not to fall too often

swimming in a lake together

visiting some old castles/churches/etc. they’ve always wanted to check out

going to a fair and playing games and going on the Ferris wheel

picking apples together

taking a painting class and gifting each other the painting they made

going to a concert of their favourite band

playing paintball as a team or against each other

going to the movies and buying their favourite treats

watching the sunrise or sunset together

cooking for each other and judging each other’s food like they’re on Top Chef

going on hayrides

visiting an escape room and trying to solve the puzzles

going camping nearby and enjoying the time without distractions

visiting an amusement park and going on all the fun rides

going to a restaurant they’ve never been to and trying new food together

trying to learn a new skill together

doing a movie marathon with childhood favourites

checking out all the wonderful plants in the botanical garden

visiting an old cemetery and making up stories for the different graves

going to a trampoline park together

watching a drag show together

renting a paddleboat and seeing how far they can go

checking out lost places together

doing a photo shoot at a cool location

taking dance lessons together

going on a guided city tour even if both grew up there

doing a pub crawl and trying different drinks

volunteering together for something that’s important to both of them

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