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fun ways to introduce new characters
have your protagonist walk into them
have them walk into your protagonist
falling from the sky
they flirt with your protagonist in a coffee shop
your protagonist flirts with them first
your protagonist saves them / they save your protagonist
they fix your protagonist's car
find them hiding in a closet
find them making out with someone in a closet
eavesdropping on your protagonist
involved in a car chase after your protagonist
your protagonist mistakes them for someone else
they bond with your mc over how loud the neighbours are
OR they move in next door and are annoyingly loud and your protagonist is determined to teach them what good music is
they kidnap your protagonist for ransom
they accidentally commit vehicular manslaughter and your mc is the only witness
the barista mistakes their order for your protagonist's
pizza delivery man
walk in on their demon summoning circle
they keep trying to sell your mc something on a flyer
secretly your mc's long-lost sister *gasp*
online dating site
they mistake your mc for a celebrity and try to take pictures with them
taxi driver
your mc catches them shoplifting and tries to get them to return what they stole
or they see your mc shoplifting and get them arrested
friend of a friend
break into their house because they need a place to hide from the authorities
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Words: 3,753 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the quarry Warnings: language, alcohol, intoxication Summary: After a birthday celebration the night before, Y/N notices the archer is acting particularly icy toward her. A/N: This came out a bit different than I thought it would, but I hope you will all love it! Also, fun to write "good" Shane before he starts the downward spiral.
Your name: submit What is this?
You woke up with your head absolutely pounding. Sunlight was just striking the left side of the tent and beginning to warm the light to gold—wait a minute. This wasn’t your tent. You were looking up at sky blue synthetic walls and your tent was green. You pushed yourself up in a sitting position. Any movement and your heart throbbed, not to mention the somewhat queasy feeling in your stomach. Ugh… last night was a bad idea. Why had you drank so much? You blamed Rick and Shane.
It was your birthday the day before and as such, your brother Rick and of course Shane, who you’d known since you were all kids, had insisted on having as best a celebration as one can have in a zombie apocalypse. A fish fry and carefully procured jugs of moonshine put everyone in a good mood. Shane apparently thought it would be hilarious to continuously make small speeches and repeatedly have everyone lift their glass to you, resulting in endless “Cheers!” accompanied with shots of moonshine. And soon you were entirely too drunk. You hadn’t even had a chance to open anything from the small but respectable pile of assembled presents everyone had gathered for you. They were charmingly wrapped in bits of newspaper and burlap and you’d been curious as to what the heck could be in them…
The party had continued quite late and you couldn’t really remember going to bed. You vaguely remembered looking up at the night sky from the flat of your back on top of Dale’s RV. The stars were spinning and so was your head. Someone had helped you climb down.
You also had a vague recollection of some argument between two of the men. Ed and Shane? No… Shane and Rick? That didn’t seem right either. You clutched a hand to your head and glanced around at the unfamiliar tent and bedding. There was an olive-green duffel bag in one corner and “WALSH” was embroidered on it.
Oh. Okay, you were in Shane’s tent. You stretched and sighed, glancing down and seeing that you were still fully dressed in your clothes from the day before. Your boots were sitting side by side near the tent entrance. It must have been easier to put you to bed here rather than try to get you all the way to the other side of camp in the dark. Your tent sat down at the far end, closer to the Daryl and Merle’s small makeshift camp at the edge of the tree line.
You pulled on your boots, shivering a little as you left the blankets behind. You unzipped the tent flap and looked out into the morning light. Camp was still quiet and you ran your fingers over your hair to smooth it down. You drew in deep lungfuls of fresh air. It seemed to quell the churning of your stomach. But you needed something to eat and some damn water ASAP. You stepped outside and were zipping up the tent when you heard the sound of boots on gravel. You looked up to see the back of Daryl’s broad shoulders. He had his bow in hand like usual but seemed to be in some hurry, moving away from you through the maze of tents and campfire rings.
You watched him disappear into the distance and then started making your way over to the water jug. You searched out and filled a cup that had previously been filled with moonshine, gagging a little at the smell and dumping the contents out on the ground before rinsing it clean and filling it to the brim. You were downing your second glass of water when you looked up to see Shane heading your way. He gave you a wide smirk when you caught his eyes.
“You’re up in the land of the living. I wasn’t expecting you to be conscious until this afternoon,” he said with surprise. “You didn’t puke in my tent, did you?” he joked.
“Ugh. Don’t say ‘puke’. And if I did, it would be mostly your fault,” you said. “Why did you make me drink so much?”
Shane leaned back on the RV and shook his head at you. “Make you? Nobody made you do anything,” he drawled. “You were having a hell of a good time until Merle started making passes at you.”
You squinted at him and strained your brain. “Ohhh yeeeeah…I kind of remember him trying to get handsy now that you say that. Is that who had an argument? Merle and someone?”
Shane nodded. “Yep. I got into it with him after I saw him trying to wrap his arm around you. His hand was on your hip but I don’t think he planned on keeping it there very long.”
You put a hand up to your face and sighed. “Ugh. Thanks for that…”
“Of course. You were wasted. Wasn’t long after that I just put ya to bed in my tent. Rick was grateful. He was worried about you getting into trouble,” Shane said with a laugh, his expression lightening.
You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. He’s always worried about me getting into trouble.”
“Hell of a birthday party for an apocalypse,” Shane said and you nodded before downing some more water. “I think your presents are still in the RV. You’ll have to wait until Dale is up.”
“No rush,” you said. “I feel like crap. I’m gonna get something to eat in hopes this hangover eases up.”
Shane chuckled at your expense and you thanked him again and waved before heading back toward your own tent. You were about to duck inside when you caught another glimpse of Daryl, this time emerging from the woods with a couple squirrels on his game stringer. You caught his eyes and gave him a small smile, but he seemed to just duck his head and continue on his way. You tried not to feel hurt by being brushed off—sometimes Daryl was difficult to read. He hadn’t hung around long the night before. Almost as soon as people had started to get a little boisterous you’d noticed that he’d slipped away. You had felt a little hurt about that… you’d been hoping to spend some more time with the handsome archer. You always felt drawn to him and had definitely felt sparks of attraction on a few occasions. But you also knew that Daryl was a bit of a loner and he definitely wasn’t a fan of Shane, who had been in rare form the night before.
You slipped into your tent and pulled on some clean clothes before washing your face and dragging a comb through your hair. You checked your reflection in a cracked mirror you kept in your bag and sighed. You looked tired and your eyes were definitely a little puffy. Ugh. Stupid… Again, why did I drink so much? Well, admittedly, it was nice to have a bit of normalcy for a while and just forget about the current state of the world.
You stepped back outside and saw a thin column of smoke rising from the fire circle by Daryl and Merle’s tents. You wandered over, shoving your hands in your pockets, and found Daryl sitting on an upturned log, starting to clean the squirrels he’d just returned with. The fire was burning low, freshly stoked with a few sticks, set on a thick bed of coals. He glanced up at you as you stepped close to the fire and warmed your fingers but his blue eyes immediately returned to his task and he stayed quiet.
You bit your bottom lip a little nervously and took a seat on a camp chair nearby. “Hey,” you greeted him softly. His eyes flickered up to you for a moment and back down again. “I—I missed you last night. At the party, I mean,” you explained, feeling a little heat rise in your chest.
“Hmm,” he hummed in acknowledgement. “Didn’t seem like it,” he drawled. He flicked a bit of fur from the knife he was using to skin the squirrels.
You gulped. His tone was a bit tense and you wondered if he was pissed off that you’d all been so loud. “Well, I did,” you said in mild confusion. “I’m sorry if we were a bit much. Things got a little ridiculous with the booze,” you laughed a little wryly. “I’m definitely regretting drinking so much this morning.”
Daryl froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the carcass in front of him. You thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. But he simply lifted the next catch and began to clean it. “Regret it?” he drawled. There was an extra gruff quality to his voice. “Ya seem like ya were plenty well taken care of.”
You gave him a puzzled look, your brow drawing low over your eyes. His tone was so different from usual, and you couldn’t get past the fact that he wouldn’t look at you.
“I mean, shit—” he punctuated the phrase with a sharp flick of his knife. That flinty edge of his voice was still pronounced and you felt like it was cutting into you. “—Shane couldn’t keep his damn eyes or hands off ya. And ya certainly seemed… fine.”
You heart started to race a little faster. You felt your mouth drop slightly open and the lines between your eyebrows deepened as you stared at him. “What?”
He finally looked up at you and his eyes were narrowed and sharp. He stared at you for a long moment and the air between the two of you felt heavy and thick, despite the fact that it was still cool and the dew had yet to evaporate from the grass. He finally tore his eyes away from your face, leaving you more confused than ever and seemingly without a breath in your lungs. “I saw ya. Comin’ outta Shane’s tent this mornin’. In the same clothes ya were wearin’ last night. Like I said,” he drawled, getting up abruptly and grabbing the remaining squirrels yet to be cleaned, “seems like ya were plenty well taken care of.” But this time you heard something else in his voice; hurt and vulnerability.
“Daryl—” But he was already disappearing again, leaving you standing there confused and a little flabbergasted that he seemingly believed you’d fucked Shane and furthermore, he seemed not only pissed but hurt about it. You were frozen for a moment, just staring at the spot where he’d disappeared. You actually weren’t really sure how long you’d been standing there but someone touching your shoulder snapped you out of it. You jumped and let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, only to turn and see your brother laughing at your reaction and giving you a kind smile.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. “How’re you feelin’? Shane said you were hungover as hell. I’m not surprised with the way you tied one on last night.”
You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over yourself. “Yeah, like you weren’t encouraging Shane by laughing at every fucking thing he did. You’re part to blame for this!” you said, pointing a vehement finger in his face.
He held his hands up defensively. “Take it easy,” he said with a laugh. “I just wanted to come tell you that we’ve got some breakfast ready. You better eat something.”
You nodded vaguely but found yourself glancing back over your shoulder, eyes scanning the trees for Daryl again.
“Hey,” Rick said, gently grabbing your shoulder again. “Everything okay?”
You tried to snap yourself out of it. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. Let’s go eat,” you said, conceding as Rick affectionately draped an arm over your shoulder and led you back to where some of the others were now stirring. Breakfast came and went. You weren’t the only one hungover and together you all quietly nursed your headaches with some leftover fried fish and biscuits Carol had made in the big cast iron skillet. You found yourself distracted though, constantly looking for the archer to show up back at camp, when you realized Lori was trying to get your attention.
“Geez,” she laughed, her arms full of the presents that had been stashed in the RV. “You are hungover,” she teased you. “Come on. Open your presents.”
You gave her a smile and accepted the packages. A new multitool from Shane. Fishing lures from Andrea and Amy. A warm flannel-lined jacket from Lori and Rick. You were genuinely grateful, but your buoyant mood was damped by the earlier encounter with Daryl. Later that day, when the sun was climbing to its apex in the sky, you finally caught sight of him having some small argument with Merle at the other end of camp and you made up your mind to go set the record straight.
The arguing stopped as Merle caught sight of you approaching over Daryl’s shoulder and his attention fixed on you. “Well, look who it is. The birthday girl! Didn’t get enough last night, darlin’? Come to see ol’ Merle to put the icing on that cake for you?”
Daryl spun and looked straight at you as your face contorted in distaste at his brother’s words. “Merle, shut the fuck up!” Daryl growled at him. He glanced back at you, clearly wondering why you were standing there.
“Daryl, can I talk to you?”
Merle whistled and let out a loud laugh. “Well, I did not see that comin’! You got a thing for little Darylina?” You shot him a glare before Daryl shoved him hard in the chest. Merle stumbled backwards, still laughing and finally drifted away.
You gulped and moved closer to the archer, a little unsure how to begin. God, this was fucking awkward.
“What?” Daryl prodded you. You caught his blue eyes again. Better just to dive in…
“You—you think I slept with Shane?” you said. Daryl looked struck by the bluntness of your question. “That’s what you meant earlier, isn’t it? You think I had sex with Shane.”
Daryl stared at you for a moment and then ducked his head, chewing on his bottom lip in apparent agitation. His blue eyes lifted again to meet yours. “I know what I saw,” he drawled. He sounded vulnerable again. His tone had softened.
You crossed your arms and cocked your head a little, unable to prevent yourself from staring at him in frustration. “You saw me come out of Shane’s tent. And you think you saw him… all over me last night?” You rolled your eyes. “I was drunk and rather than try to corral or carry me all the way back over here last night in the fucking dark, Shane put me to sleep in his tent. Alone. I don’t know where he slept but I’m guessing he crashed in my tent.” The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched. “Look, I’ve known Shane since Rick and I were kids. We grew up together. He’s more like an older brother than anything. He’s always been protective of me. There is nothing going on between Shane and I. I just—wanted to set that straight.”
Daryl shifted a little anxiously and seemed at a loss for what to say for a moment. “Why? Why do you give a shit what I think? Ain’t nothin’.”
You felt your cheeks grow a little warm. “I don’t want you reading that situation wrong. I’m not interested in Shane. He was just looking out for me.” You wanted to confess right then that you were interested in him, but your reservoir of courage seemed to have dried up just from the walk over.
Daryl considered you again for a long moment before he ducked his head and nodded. “Alrigh’. ‘M sorry for bein’ a dick. Ain’t none of my damn business anyway. I—” he broke off suddenly and nestled his thumbnail in between his teeth, chewing on it nervously for a moment while he was gathering his thoughts. “Can ya just wait here a second?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. You watched curiously as he disappeared into his tent and returned with two small packages in hand, each wrapped tightly in some wrinkled brown paper.
He held them out to you and you gave him a questioning look. “Happy birthday,” he drawled. He looked suddenly boyish and bashful. You accepted the packages with surprise and a smile grew on your face, lighting it up to the corners of your eyes.
“You got me birthday presents”
He nodded. “Yeah, uhh—I was gonna give them to ya last night but ya were busy with everybody and—I dunno,” he trailed off.
You cocked your head at him. “I’m never too busy for you, Daryl.” You looked back down at the gifts. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to do this.”
He rubbed his hand nervously over the back of his neck and hummed a noise of acknowledgement.
“Can I open them?”
He shot you an amused look. “No, keep ‘em wrapped up forever.” You smirked at him and one corner of his mouth twitched up. “Yeah. Duh. Go on.”
You grinned at him and tore into the first package. There was a flimsy cardboard box inside and when you lifted the top your eyes landed on a combat knife, the blade sharpened to perfection on what you guessed was probably his whetstone. This was so Daryl. Practical and thoughtful.
“I know ya lost yer other one, like yer always losin’ shit, and nobody should be without a knife these days. A badass like ya should have a badass knife,” he drawled. You thought his ears had turned a deeper shade of red and your smile widened.
“I don’t know about badass,” you laughed, “but I will definitely keep this on me at all times. It’s perfect. Thank you.” He waved you off before tilting his head at the other yet unopened package in your hand.
“This one is—well, it’s—” He shrugged. “Well, you’ll see. It’s different. Just open it.”
You gave him a curious look and finished snapping your new knife into its sheath before you broke the paper on the second gift. It was a rather small box and you were really struggling to think of anything that tiny that Daryl would give you, so you eagerly lifted the lid and your lips fell open. It was a delicate silver chain and you knew just what it was for. You were positive your eyes were a bit round as they met Daryl’s again… and probably a bit glassy.
He seemed frozen for a second with you looking at him like that, the chain dangling from your graceful fingertips. “I noticed ya used to wear that locket all the time—with them pictures of yer folks in it… and, uhh, then I noticed ya weren’t wearin’ it no more. I asked Lori about it and she said the chain broke. So. I just… looked for one. In Atlanta.” He shifted his weight anxiously, trying to decode what was going on behind your wide eyes.
“You noticed that?”
He gave you a weird look. “O’ course I noticed that.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You ran the delicate silver through your fingers again, fighting the lump of emotion in your throat. “Daryl, I don’t even know what to say.”
He shrugged. “Ya ain’t gotta say anything.” He memorized your expression for a long moment. He called to mind how fucking angry he’d been when he saw you leaving Shane’s tent, thinking Shane had taken advantage of you being drunk, thinking he’d waited too fucking long to tell you how he felt, that he’d missed his opportunity. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. He knew how goddamn good you were; charming, smart, funny, caring, and not bad to have around in a fight. Not to mention how his heart jumped when he met your stunning eyes and watched your lips curve in a smile or a laugh. You were beautiful. You didn’t seem to fit with the ugliness of this world now. Of course someone else wanted you.
But now he felt like a death row prisoner who’d gotten a stay of execution, and he was goddamn sure-as-shit not gonna waste it. He found his voice somehow.
“You’re way too good for Shane,” he said suddenly. “And I know it ain’t like that… but ‘m just sayin’.” He hesitated, his heart pounding. He pushed a hand back through his hair anxiously. “Hell, you’re too good for me…” he murmured. “And I know the timing bites, everything goin’ to shit, but—"
He was stopped by your lips crashing against his and he almost stumbled back in surprise at first, but like some deep instinct, his arms drifted around you and pulled you in closer, and he kissed you back—a little hesitantly at first, his mind whirring with too many thoughts, and then more confidently, more hungrily, everything else going silent. When you broke the kiss and looked up into his blue eyes, he felt off-balance in a way he never had before. But in a good way.
“So, you, uhh—” he had to clear his throat because his voice came out a little strained, from disbelief or shock maybe. “You like the presents?” he said.
A laugh bubbled up and out of you and his heart jumped like it always did at the sound. “Uhh… Yeah. I like the presents. But—I like kissing you more. And if I’m allowed a belated birthday request, I’d like another one.” Daryl’s fingers tapped nervously on your lower back. “Now. Please,” you said with a widening smile.
Daryl was bewildered how he’d gone from wanting to punch a concrete wall to such unexpected heights so quickly, but hell yeah he was going to hang on to you as long as he could. He gladly granted you your request.
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glasswaters · 2 days ago
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content creator
what am i, to the search function? what is my bleeding heart, my calloused hands, the sob in the gap between my ribs and my lungs, to the ticking of the reblog count?
i post art. i refresh my activity page every five minutes for three days, aching for engagement. a wordless reblog. a like from a bot. are you going to publish your writing, asks my coworker when I tell her that I am a poet. 
I am, I say. I send my finished writing to my friends. #timezone reblog. look at me. look at my art.
look at my content. i post content to be nestled in between memes and asks. at the wrong time, perhaps. with the wrong tags, perhaps. i post content, I-
engage with me.
what is content, without an audience? what is an artist, if not content? what, to the algorithm, is poetry not reblogged within x hours?
recommended for you: an artist’s pleading cry. another’s lifetime.
after all, what is content unmanaged? what is an artist not posting on twitter, on tumblr, on instagram, carefully relatable, polished humanity? are you not a content creator? are you not that which chokes your own art before it ever leaves your palms so it might be worth a share?
- tick, tick, tick, goes the engagement counter. tick, tick, tick, goes the clock. come. consume me.
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chaotic-queer-disaster · 16 hours ago
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A Million Possible Outcomes: a Writeblr Event
hello writeblr!
So, @strawberrie-faerie recently came up with a very interesting concept, and after talking about it for awhile, we decided to host it as a writblr event!
The idea is this: every 2 weeks we'll post a writing prompt. Anyone who wants to participate then reblogs it, confirms their participation, and makes their own short story with the prompt, tagging it "a million possible outcomes" (the title i spontaneously came up with). You can also tag me or them if you want in the post.
Then at the end of the 2 week period, i'll reblog all the stories! the idea is to see how each individual writblr takes a prompt and tailors it to their specific style and imagination. It'll hopefully help quell that "ahhh nothing original exists, im terrible" mindset a lot of us have, and it'll also just be fun!
The prompt for December 1st to December 15th is as follows:
A corpse sits at the bottom of the river. Everyone knows this.
What they don't know is how to handle it when that corpse wakes up.
if you think this is a cool idea and/or want to participate, please reblog! we'd love for this to be an actual writblr event, because it seems like something that could be really cool.
(Notes: there isn't a limit of what qualifies as "short" but i'd suggest a "keep reading" for anything that gets a bit longer.)
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heartofmuse · 2 days ago
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How beautiful it is to love you and with my whole soul adore you! Taking care of you with each heartbeat, kissing you with the sincerity of this pure love that makes me soar through the skies and give thanks for every second that I get to live with you. I love you and it is so overwhelming that my heart overflows and dances in my chest with the magic of the entire Universe conjugated in the poem that is your name. 
e.v.e.
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herotome · 2 days ago
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Devlog #52
Hi-ho Wudge here! All righty! Here we go...!!
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Cautiously delighted to announce that another VIDEO will be dropping soon: a small voice acted preview of the game featuring Mia, dialogue choices, and a demonstration of the new save system! How soon will it drop? Err... Maybe next week, maybe next month. We'll see. It's about 6 minutes long. The video is at 98% completion, the last 2% is just a bit difficult to gauge -- final sound fixes, some minor text formatting issues, etc. I've been working low-key on this since... mid-late October. So it's taken a full month, at least. 8^'|
I playtested the game! Still quite enjoy it, was able to do some slight pacing edits and add some code variations here and there. Wish the game was longer. Wish I didn't have to write it myself in order to make it longer, ha.
I started writing some snippets of Future Scenes, so future me is going to be very grateful to present me.
Prettied up more of Jade's scene, looking to start coding it today.
Got an incredible commission from @regal-bones 👀 More on that another day, but if you're ever looking for some radical DnD artwork or particle effect animations, I HIGHLY recommend their services!
My sound designer is working hard and will be done with the first set of SFX soon~
... Hmm... Feels like I've done a couple dozen other things on top of these, but they're not coming to me atm. I should acknowledge the community management I suppose; I've been fairly active while trying not to overfeed the screen-staring, notification-refreshing demons. I want to get in the habit of copying these updates onto my itch page someday, too - especially as the next installment is nearing completion.
There's a meme I want to fill out -- this is a reminder to myself to do it at some point.
And ah, here's an interesting discovery I've been holding onto for a while:
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I inadvertently.... made Evil Eye shorter than most of the heroes lol.... Not by a lot, but still a noticeable amount. <:| Not quite a short king. A short prince, perhaps? I MEANT for him to be slouching, BUT STILL.
I hope you’re all staying safe and keeping warm.
Much love,
Wudge.
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alexandramalbb · a day ago
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Someone asked me what is love , and I answered:
"Love is something beautiful, is peace , freedom, an emotion that make you feel happy. But my dear friend love is also something dangerous because she can make you to lost your mind"
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drunk-on-writing · a day ago
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i often wonder what it would feel like to matter i know in the universe’s universe i am just one small star a single grain of salt spilled on a tabletop; on my own, i don’t amount to much - i know this but to know something and to feel it are two different things and i am beginning to feel i am beginning to feel nothing like i am nothing like i am no more important than that single grain of salt just sitting there until it’s swept away into the trash and i want to believe i am more than that but i’m just not so sure anymore i’m not asking to be someone’s entire solar system but it would be nice to feel like i shine a little brighter than a black hole
(cc, 2021)
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ohtoreadmyheart · 2 days ago
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i know nothing about love and never felt it. but one thing i am sure of is that love start with “curiosity”. when you are curious about someone , from just wanted to know their name to dream to know every little thing about them is what i call love. you crave to know  everything about them. you wish to know every single step and breath and smile. you wish to be with them and just spend your life to discover every single moment of them. that’s what is love for me.
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introvert-unicorn · a month ago
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The Language Of Flowers
Acacia: Hidden love, beauty in withdrawal
Amaryllis: Pride, a hard won success
Anemone: Vanishing hopes
Bells of Ireland: Wish for good luck
Carnation: Fascination, love and distinction
Daffodil (Narcissus): Honesty and truth
Dahlia flower: Warnings and change
Daisy: Innocence, loyal love and purity
Delphinium: Open heart, ardent attachement
Gardenia: Symbol of secret love
Gladiolus: Remembrance, faithfulness and sincerity
Hyacinth: I'm sorry, please forgive me.
Iris: Eloquence
Lily (general) : Purity of the heart and refined beauty
Lily of the valley: Return of happiness
Marigold: Passion and creativity
Orchid: Beauty, refinement and love
Peony: Happy marriage
Lavender: Love at first sight
Red rose: Love, respect, courage and passion
White rose: Purity, secrecy, silence, innocence and charm
Sunflower: Good luck and ambition
Tulip: Irresistible love
Violet: Faithfulness, modesty and delicate love
Zinnia: Lasting affection, daily remembrance and good memories
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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 15 hours ago
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Daryl caught sight of you as he breezed past the doorway and he immediately knew that something was wrong. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhat hunched over and anxiously picking at a tear in your jeans. He backed up and saw a shadow over your usually bright expression and his stomach turned. “Hey.” You looked up to see his broad shoulders in the doorway and you straightened up and gave him a tight smile, but the wrinkles on your brow didn’t ease. “Ya alrigh’?” You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I was, uhh—was just gonna go see what I can do to help.” You climbed to your feet but Daryl thought your usual purposeful movement seemed rather laborious today.  He watched you tugging at the hem of your shirt to smooth out the wrinkles and cocked his head at you, his fingers drumming anxiously on the doorframe. “Ya sure? Ya seem—I dunno. S’goin’ on?”  You couldn’t lie to him. And how’d he always know when something was off? He watched you sigh and your shoulders slumped. Your eyes closed and you passed a hand over them. Daryl thought it was slightly shaky. “I just—some days I’m just so tired,” you said. “From everything. From all of it.” You shook your head. “I’m just exhausted sometimes... but we don’t get to be exhausted. There’s too much to do. There are too many things that our survival depends on and I have to pull my weight.” You sighed again and Daryl watched as you hung your head a little, your lips forming a soft pout. “But some days... I dunno...” you trailed off. “Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what ya mean. This damn shitshow is enough to make anybody exhausted, but yer—yer dealin’ with some extra bullshit. And ya always carry more than yer fair share of what’s needed.” Your eyes flickered back up to him but he still saw some guilt in them. He crossed the room, passing you and making straight for the bed you’d claimed in the group’s temporary hide out and flopped himself down. “Yer takin’ a day off.” “W—what? No, I—Daryl—” “Ain’t a question. Yer takin’ a day off to rest and I’mma make fuckin’ sure ya actually do.” He scooted over on the bed, resting his back up against the pillows and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Now get on over here and lie down before I come over there and make ya.” You took in the determined look on his face and felt your cheeks flush. You didn’t doubt that he would 100% come scoop you up and toss you down if he had to. On second thought, that sounded— “Y/N. Get over here. I mean it.” You gulped and laid down in the empty space beside him, tucking a hand underneath the pillow and lying on your side facing him. “Are you really going to make me rest all day?” you asked. “Hell yeah. And bonus,” he drawled, shifting a little to make himself more comfortable, “I get to rest too while I babysit yer ass. Now just—get some sleep.” You smiled up at him as he leaned his head back and shut his eyes. You closed yours too. “Thank you,” you whispered. All you got back was a quiet “mhm” and Daryl’s arm moving until it was pressed up against yours.
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stardust-written · 4 months ago
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No writer has all three:
A good relationship with reality
A socially acceptable search history
Actual motivation
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nikasholistic · 3 months ago
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You are a writer. Whether you write every day or not, you are a writer. Whether you write five hundred or five thousand words a day, you are a writer. Whether you’re full of creative ideas or not, you are a writer. Being a writer requires one thing: loving what you do.
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Enemies to Lovers: my favorites
im not like the BIGGEST fan of this trope, especially cause its often written badly and becomes abusive HOWEVER. hoo boy these:
pinned to a wall, their hand pressing their throat and just. them looking into each other's eyes while the tension rises
one of them is hurt and has nowhere else to go but the other's place
FAKE DATING + ENEMIES TO LOVERS HELLAUR ???
i hate you so much stop being so cute
“fuck you.” “fuck me yourself, coward”
i hate you but if anything happens to you im killing everyone and destroying everything
the oh realization that hits them like a train
them battling that realization
knife/sword lifting the other's chin
i don't know if i should kiss you or stab you
are they flirting or starting a fight
stubbornness!!!! saying i hate them i hate them i hate them when in reality they think the other is the cutest most perfect being ever
“what do you want?!” “you”
just because i saved you doesn't mean i care about you or anything
seeing all of their negative traits and loving them despite it
one of them sleepwalks and BOOM one bed trope + enemies to lovers
BECAUSE I LOVE YOU arguments
accidentally kissing each other and liking it
one of them is hurt/unconscious and the other takes care of them n watches over them n falls asleep near them and they wake up in each other's arms and they like it a bit too much
playful flirting
jealousy when someone else flirts with them
“shut up” “make me”
“would falling in love with me be so terrible”
i hate their stupid pretty face
one of them is missing/went somewhere and the other realizes they miss them
OR IF YOU'RE AN ANGST HOE ONE OF THEM IS DEAD AND THE OTHER IS SUFFERING
“smile like that again and ill show you what i can do”
when they can't get them out of their head
fighting them and not being able to hurt them
if enemy enemy why enemy hot
i hate everyone but suddenly i dont hate you
they start dating secretly and now they have to pretend they hate each other
holding a dagger to their throat........but theyve never been this close before.........and the other's never been so beautiful before.....
you wanna kiss me so bad it makes u look stupid
“who did this to you?”
“shut up and kiss me” “come here and make me”
DANCING DANCING DANCIGN DANCINF TOGETHER
purposefully stepping on their foot because they're a little shit
just being little shits in general
i know you better than anyone else
one of them gets hurt/risks their life while saving the other
“im not leaving you”
“is that all youve got?”
smiling at them w bloodied teeth after the other just punched them
bonus !!!! wiping the blood from their lips while smirking
nobody gets to be an asshole to them except for me
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thewriterswitch · 10 months ago
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Every writing advice ever: If you’re having trouble with a scene, skip it and write a different part of the story.
Me: If I don’t write in chronological order, I will die
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moonysbungeoppang · 4 months ago
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ok but dismantle the idea that you should finish your writing as quick as possible. some of my favourite books (stand-alones. with series i cannot choose) were written over the span of many years. the secret history was written in 10 years and the same with the song of achilles. all the light we cannot see took 9 years to write. almost every fan fiction takes the span of a few months to create and even then they aren’t perfect. lotr took 16 years for tolkien to compose. jkr took six years to write the philosophers stone. victor hugo wrote les mis in the space of 12 years. yes, many good books and stories are written over the course of a few months, but everyone’s different and it might take some more time for you. all im saying is that all these amazing books have changed and shaped literature and they weren’t written in a day. so take your time, it dosent matter if your work dosent turn out to be a masterpiece, you can perfect it day by day until you’re satisfied. don’t feel compelled to rush
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hokkyokuro · 22 days ago
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Writing mistakes that editors will call you out for!
Disclaimer: this is a harsh and mean informative post on mistakes that make your writing amateurish or fanfiction-like. In the professional world, editors will call you out on them in a much harsher way that here.. but hey, they’re easy to fix! Of course, the quality of writing is often a matter of individual taste and experience, though there is a theory to it and ways to make your work clear and interesting to your readers.
And yes, as cruel as it sounds to admit—most fanfiction writers are amateurs who will not help you improve your own writing. You might have to close your Good Omens AO3 fanfic for a few hours to read the actual work by Neil Gaiman. That said, fanfiction is an amazing gateway to becoming a pro author because it gives you insight on what the audience likes, and the practice you need to improve! There are many fanfiction writers who’ve taken the time to learn from professionals about their craft, and are in a place where they could become successful published authors themselves.
That aside, here are 7 writing mistakes that hinder your writing!
1 – Dialogue tags
This is BY FAR the most common mistake that amateur writers do, and particularly prelevant in fanfiction. Alternative dialogue tags (whisper, shout, murmured) should be used VERY sparingly. “said”, “replied”, and “asked” should build up the majority of the tags you use.
Oftentimes, the reader will understand the tone based on what the character says or by their actions.
2 - Tense changes
Pick a tense and stick to it. Many times, amateurs waver between past and present which leads to awkward reading. Choose which tense you prefer and stick to it. An extra caution should be taken when using past tense, however, to correctly use past preterite (I ate) vs past perfect (I had eaten). While both can be used, they are different so make sure you understand when to use which.
3 – Pointless dialogue
It’s time to cut the small talk. While chitchat and banter may be fun to read, particularly in fanfiction, editors will ask that you remove it if it doesn’t advance the plot. What you want to do is cut down on the filler in your story, and if that means your characters NOT having an argument about macaroni cheese, then so be it. Save dialogue for important and meaningful conversation only—your readers will prefer it, I promise.
4 – Pointless description
Hand in hand with the previous point, description should be kept consise and relevant. We don’t need to know what your character is wearing or the details of their “black, leather, zebra-print sofa under the wide windowsill in the master bedroom”. Keep the descriptions short, fed into the plot little-by-little and relevant to what is happening. Your readers are smart—they can imagine the rest for themselves! That’s what makes reading fun!
5 – Use the character’s name
The blue-eyed boy has a name for the great purpose of you using it! Literal writing, nine times out of ten, is better! Green orbs are distracting, but green eyes are to the point and clear. It’s the same with names! The name, title, role (butler, governess etc), or pronouns should always be the default. Any other term should be used sparingly when there is no other alternative.
6 – Abandon the pet names
Yes, pet names are cute and fun, but not when they’re in every sentence of conversation. Things like “babe”, “baby”, “sugarpuff sunshine fairy” should be used SPARINGLY. I can assure you, the love interests saying it once or twice in the novel will have a far greater impact on the reader than if they say it every time they call their partner. An overuse of pet names becomes distracting and make the character seem both immature and a caricature. It also has a similar effet to repeating the other person’s name during a conversation—it leads to unnatural dialogue as we only really say the other person’s name to them in order to get their attention.
7 – Immature characters
This is a biiiiig one in fanfiction. You may see characters who are adults in their mid to late twenties but who still behave like teenagers. Granted, if you are a teenage writer, this can’t always be corrected, though it does become apparent to any reader over the age of eighteen.
Truth be told, adults mature and don’t react as overtly as many poorly-written characters do. A twenty-eight year old is very unlikely to tell two teenagers who are making out at the kitchen table to “get a room”, nor are they likely to be victim of some horrible miscommunication that leads to a lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers situation. Of course, it is still possible, though it does read as unrealistic and makes it apparent that the author has not yet reached the age of the character they are writing about. Take reference from real people around the age of your characters and if all else fails, you could always look for the possibility to age them down.
The point of correcting these mistakes is to create a novel that is easy to understand without the reader feeling as though they're swimming through mud. Publishers look for clear, consise books that tell one story from start to finish!
Good luck!
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moonlit-sunflower-books · 7 months ago
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writing should be fun.
make oc playlists. spend hours on moodboards that have no purpose. write self-indulgent fluff that’s never going to be published. scribble three lines of poetry in the back of your history notebook. draw fanart of your own characters. write stupid dialogue that your publishers might hate. start new wips that you might never finish but write those three chapters that make you happy because if you don’t write them, who else will?
writing shouldn’t always be about “will publishers like this” or “i have to reach this word count” or “how do i get the most likes”.
have fun with your writing.
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New requested one shot featuring a Jealous!Daryl will be posted tonight! (US Mountain time) so grab a blanket and a cup of tea and settle in for some angsty revelations. Happy ending? You’ll just have to wait and see! <3
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