#Storytelling

[dimension20official]

Just Brennan and the cast talking sincerely and seriously about the power of storytelling 🍓👽🫧

[artist-issues]

I accidentally came across this while I was scrolling through the Star Wars tag

And I just thought how the hell you miss the point of the film so badly?!

Like I really hope this is some really unfunny joke or something. I saved loads of drafts trying to find ways to argue this point but in the end I just couldn’t be bothered wasting my time and deleted them. Chances are I’d be arguing with a brick wall and I don’t have the energy for that. So here I’m giving it to you to get your teeth into if you want

Well. I can/t see who posted it so they can’t defend their position, which I generally frown upon. But just to argue with the idea, not the person:

It sounds like this is the kind of post that’s made from the perspective of somebody who believes just punishment is the highest form of Good that can undo the effects of Bad. When actually, redemption is the highest form of Good that can undo the effects of Bad. Just punishment is just the next-best thing when redemption and forgiveness is impossible.

But here’s the thing—the only way a person can be redeemed is through the forgiveness of the party that has been wronged. And the only person who has a right to demand justice for wrongdoing is the person who, innocent themselves, was wronged.

Luke was uniquely situated to refuse to execute justice on Vader—because he’s his son. If anyone left alive by the end of Episode VI has suffered because of everything Anakin’s done as Vader, it’s Luke.

Orphaned not once, not even twice, but three times if you count the death of Obi Wan.

Homeless.

Separated from his only remaining family for their entire childhood.

His only friends and family have been tormented and endangered since the moment he met them.

He has been tormented and maimed.

The entire legacy he should have inherited, with all the advantages of teachers and learning in safety, are gone.

The whole world he’s growing up in has been shaped by fear from the literal moment of his own birth onward.

…And because of his heritage, he’s got the weight of the responsibility for the fate of the already-basically-ruined galaxy on his shoulders.

So if anyone’s got the right to judge Anakin for his choices, if anyone has the authority morally and legally to “press charges,” it’s Luke. The only person with more claim to that right would be Leia.

The fact that he chooses not to “press charges,” not to avenge, is the whole point of the series, like you said. Luke had the ability and the right to take control of the situation and choose how it ended. That would’ve given him total certainty about the end result. An illusion of “safety-at-last.”

But that’s the whole point of his character. To have the farm boy who’s always rushing off to the horizon and reaching to do more Do More DO MORE—STOP? And put his faith in something other than his own abilities? Give up his control of the situation, with a line that literally references who his father was?

And who was his father? Anakin Skywalker, a young hero who could never stop trying to control outcomes and bring about “certainty” through his own power!

To have Luke Skywalker extend mercy by throwing away control…to the same father who never could make the same choice when it was his time to be the hero?

Master-stroke of storytelling. But even more than that, it’s true. The person who made this comment needs to read A Tale of Two Cities. Or Genesis.

Punishing someone who has done so much wrong that they can never make it right again is justice, and it is good. But having the authority to make that call because you’re the one injured, and choosing to extend forgiveness and open the road to a clean slate for the offender, instead? That’s better.

It’s better because to make that decision heals. Luke can move on from the limb he’ll never grow back and the mom he never met and the aunt, uncle, and masters he’ll never see again. He can do that—it doesn’t have to be a scar on the tissue of his life. Because the way the “case file” of his “wrongs” ended was “I choose not to hold onto that hurt or press charges. I choose to let it go.” And therefore it can no longer hurt him.

Unlike the ravening packs in the French Revolution who wound up killing rich women and children who’d never personally hurt them because once you start deciding that vengeance or not even vengeance but “retributive justice” is the only thing that end your pain, the more the idea of “retributive justice” gets addictive. It promises to heal the hurt but all it really does is narrow your focus onto the hurt until you can’t even see the humans you’re hurting.

Anyway.

Besides, justice was still served. The Emperor was still defeated. The Empire was toppled. And Anakin, whose wrongdoings had already been manifesting punishment in his body and mind and spirit for years, also paid the ultimate price for everything he’d ever done. The truth is, (and Star Wars supports this) Anakin created his own punishment.

Padme died because he chose power over her, and his punishment was to live without her in the knowledge that he killed her. Can you imagine worse punishment for him?

Obi-Wan was Anakin’s longest and oldest friend, who loved and stood by him for most of his life, and he lost not only that friendship, but the trust and camaraderie and even respect of that relationship. And what did it get replaced with? Nothing. Emptiness.

The Jedi Council are gone, and in their place in Anakin’s life going forward? A sadistic old crone who is actively trying to get Vader’s son to kill him despite all his years of loyalty, and flunkies Vader can choke to death. No community.

Plus, he’s in a living nightmare prison of machinery and deformity for twenty years. What exactly could Luke do to him that would’ve been a more satisfying punishment?

This person seems to be making the comment out of a misguided sense of loss of characters like Padme, and suffering to characters like Obi Wan. I don’t think they’re taking the story as a whole. I think they really liked the world of the Prequels and really felt the tragedy of losing that version of the world. That’s my take.

[zepskies]

Hey! I just wanna start with saying that I read, I think, nearly every work you posted (all the Jensen’s ones at least) and I absolutely loved all of them. I mean the writing and the storylines are really amazing and I think you’re an incredible writer!! <3

Now I myself want, maybe not publish, but even just to write for myself a story. A Dean’s fanfic to be exact. I have an idea in my head of the story that I’ve slowly been building for the last year through imagining. I even wrote down a few bullet points ideas so I’ll have something to begin with, but I have no idea how to continue from here.

When it comes to verbal expressions, I have no idea what to do, or developing a plot, also clueless. Just the whole writing process no fucking idea, but I really want to learn.

So I was really hoping if you could give me some advices on how to write a story, how to develop the plot, how to write characters, original ones or ones that already exist in the media, without you know the story sounding like an AI wrote it or a 13 yo on wattpad.

Thank you very much ahead and have a lovely day!!<3 <3

Wow, thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoy my writing. It always makes me so happy when people give me feedback on my stories. 🥰🥰 And that's awesome that you want to start writing your own story with Dean!

You're on the right track with the bullet points -- it sounds like you're starting to create a loose outline. If you want to know a bit about my writing process, that's exactly where I start after creating the initial idea/paragraph synopsis of the story I want to write.

There are two kinds of writers, in my opinion:

Architects: writers who outline.

Adventurers: writers who freeform.

(More on this, my process, + some of my favorite creative writing resources and tips below the cut):

In most respects, I consider myself an Architect. My brain craves structure. So the way I beat writer's block while working on a project is by having a roadmap of what's going to happen next. That's thanks to my outline.

Even if you find yourself more of a freeformer, you can develop some kind of pre-writing plan, whether that's creating a list of character bios, starting with the basic 3-Act triangle, or writing out a handful of bullet points to get you going.

For my personal process, I'll go from creating the basic premise/summary, to some loose bullet points of the story structure, to then fleshing out into full outlining of each chapter and scene, and finally drafting (and editing).

While I'm outlining, I'm also doing research and fact-checking as needed to get me through to the next scene and the next, until the end. My "roadmap" tends to be very detailed, so when I get to the drafting part, all I should have to reference is my outline.

Now, this doesn't mean that plot points won't change, or get switched around, or get chucked entirely. But if I have the blueprints of the house, I can change a window or a door, or even a whole support beam here and there, so to speak.

As far as the actual development of plot, character arcs, and good dialogue, I would really recommend you take a creative writing class! There are probably free ones online, but there are also a lot of other great resources. Here are a few I can share with you:

On Storytelling:

Save the Cat - Blake Snyder's theory on storytelling is one of the most popular across screenwriting and novel writing, and you can apply it to your fanfic. Above all, story is story, no matter the medium. Pay special attention to Snyder's Beat Sheets. You can begin to figure out the plot of the story using that as a guide.

11 Plot Types to Build Your Novel - linked this earlier in the post, but putting it again here.

5 Tips for Beating Writer's Block - One of my posts that could help you get unstuck, if/when you do get stuck (we've ALL been there).

Joseph Campbell - The Hero's Journey - Very common in coming of age stories, origin stories (as in superheroes), and high fantasy.

Narratology - Mieke Bal - One of my favorite books on narrative elements and technique. Literally a study of narrative.

On Dialogue:

Good scenes are built with a balance of smart and necessary dialogue, and exposition (what's happening in the scene, description of the characters' actions and thoughts/inner monologues, and any atmospheric details).

Dialogue is about how the characters are interacting with each other. It's about creating a moment where subtext is important -- meaning that what isn't said is just as important as what is being said. A scene can shift in tone from humor, to angst, to hurt/comfort, to fluff, etc. For me, these shifts most often happen when I'm writing the characters' dialogue with each other.

Characters should have distinct voices. When writing fanfiction, I'm always trying to make sure the canon characters sound like themselves in their dialogue and inner thoughts, as well as act like they would, based on their personality traits (including strengths, weaknesses, and insecurities).

How to Write Great Dialogue (Masterclass article)

Tips for Writing Dialogue

How to Write Dialogue in Fiction

How to Write Good Dialogue in a Novel

On Creating Compelling Character Arcs:

This goes hand-in-hand when you're developing the plot, because in my opinion, the best stories are character-driven. Meaning that their choices shape how the narrative moves. On the whole, things don't just happen to characters -- they made decisions that have either positive or negative consequences.

Characters have a goal that they're aiming for, and of course, there should be obstacles that try and prevent the main characters from getting that thing.

Torment Your Hero in 8 Steps

Joseph Campbell's Hero Journey (linked above) can also help to craft an epic character arc. Note: you don't need to include all those steps in a story.

The Structure of Romance - a basic structure of the genre (basically of romantic comedies), but not the end-all-be-all of writing romance stories. Reread or rewatch your favorite romances! Take a look at the structure and see what similarities you find and what aspects you want to include in your own story.

Basically, there's nothing new under the sun, but you can still create your own story with your own unique voice based on the aspects of relationships, character archetypes, worlds, genres, and tropes that bring you joy! 💜

Thanks for dropping into my inbox, hun! Let me know if any of this helps. 😉

[lizhibiscus]

give me about 10 more of these

[eminthegrave]

I realised that plot holes are only holes because you keep forgetting to repair them. If you actually sew them up with a bunch of made up shit occasionally, then they won't get so big. I somehow made my world building make sense by just adding reasons why its like that.

Why doesn't anyone know about the other plains of the dodecahedron? well obviously it's because everyone thinks you just fall off the edge and whatever you see after that is The After Life. You know, folklore and totally not a complete plot hole with an half arsed explanation slapped on top.

[the-wandering-astronautt]

ASTRODOVE!!!

They say you shouldn't fly too close to the sun, but this daring dove ignored that advice.

Shielded by an aura of pure swagger, he took to the cosmos in an adventure few could have ever imagined. His eyes lit up as he observed the universe in all its glory. He watched the stars dance in an array of colours and light as they mirrored the twinkle in his eye. They were closer than ever before, and Astrodove was beyond enthralled! He visited Mars, then Saturn and then Neptune. He almost settled in the skies of Jupiter. The ever howling winds were like a bird superhighway, an otherworldly wave which he thought he could surf forever. But then, he saw something in the sky. It was Io, the pizza moon. He paused for a moment. He had been reminded of earthly pleasures too good to give up. Was he really willing to sacrifice pizza? His avian mind could have perished at the thought.

Upon returning home, his story spread far and wide. The astrodove was back, and he had stories to tell that would blow your mind! He received a noble prize for his incredible act of bravery, and now studies astrophysics at his local university :)

🌌🕊🤍

Artwork By The Wandering Astronaut

[joshuamrl]

Replace my heart, replace my mind—you will see no difference. The sickness is in my blood now.

[dancesonmoonlight]

Agreed! Though I am not immune to when something is just plain cute. It's like:

Inside of you are two wolves.

One:

The other:

My taste in romance has less to do with how romantic the relationship actually is (though that is a bonus) and more to do with how interesting I find the dynamic between the couple. Which is why fluffy vanilla romance usually bores the hell out of me. I want to see how these characters dramatically affect each other and fundamentally change each other and their individual understandings of the world!!! I want to see a beautiful tie-in between the romance and the themes + messages of the story and how it all builds to a climax!!!

[moodycowplant]

112. A Taste of Home🏠.

The day of dinner with Conrad was approaching fast.

That morning, Lana woke up feeling under the weather again.

The nausea had returned, though not as intense as before, but now a fever had joined the mix. Still, she didn’t want to postpone the dinner any longer than they already had.

She needed Conrad by her side—ASAP.

Summoning what little strength she had left, she dragged herself through the motions of waking up, hoping the symptoms would ease as the day went on.

She reached for her phone, blinking against the screen’s brightness. A message from Conrad was already waiting for her.

"Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today? I hope a little better. Thinking about you. Got a long day ahead, but I’ll be counting the hours till dinner. Miss you. ❤️"

Lana smiled softly and typed back:

"Morning, my love. Hope your day goes smoothly. I miss you more. Can’t wait to see you tonight. ❤️"

She hesitated before sending it, deliberately leaving out any mention of her fever. If he knew, he’d insist on rescheduling, and she wasn’t willing to let that happen.

With that settled, she pushed herself out of bed, dressed, and went to the bathroom to go through her usual morning routine.

By the time she made it downstairs, the whole family was already up.

"You sleep well, dear?" Nova asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Yeah, seems like," Lana murmured, but Nova’s hand was already brushing against her forehead.

"You’re burning up, honey."

"It’s fine, Mom, just morning sickness," Lana said quickly, waving it off with a dismissive gesture. "I’ll be alright. Don’t worry."

She hugged Nova before she could protest.

The day passed in a blur. Lana fought to stay afloat, exhaustion hit at her with every step, but thankfully, as the hours dragged on, the worst of the sickness began to fade.

By the afternoon, the house was alive with the familiar chaos of meal preparations.

Nova had taken charge in the kitchen, and as always, the whole family had found a way to get involved, whether they were actually helping or just making things more complicated.

"I’m pretty sure your dough is too runny," Valerio commented, poking at Clary’s mixing bowl with a smirk. "Not sure your pie for Conrad is gonna hold up."

"You can’t cook at all, Valerio. Shut up," Clary shot back. "It’s called "Clary's pie for Conrad", not "Valerio’s pie for Conrad", okay?"

"Whatever you say, chief," he teased. "But I’m telling you, you need more flour."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about. Mom, tell him!" Clary turned to Nova with a dramatic huff.

"Not you two again," Nova sighed, shaking her head. "Valerio, let her be. Clary, honey, add a little bit more flour."

She poked at the dough, confirming Valerio’s suspicion.

"TOLD YA," Valerio mouthed silently, smirking.

Clary didn’t bother replying. She just stuck her tongue out at Valerio before returning her focus to the dough she was preparing.

"Honey, what can I help with?" Joseph asked, approaching Nova.

"Joe, sweetheart, please set the table and grab some drinks from the cellar. Thank you, love you," Nova said, pecking him on the cheek before returning to her cooking.

----------------------------------˚ʚ♡ɞ˚------------------------------------

Dinner was ready just in time.

Everyone had dressed up and was eagerly awaiting their guest.

Nova and Joseph were still upstairs, Valerio was in his room, and Clary was circling the dining table, making sure everything was in order—especially the pie she had made for Conrad, which she had carefully placed in the center.

Even though the family was excited to meet him, Lana felt her anxiety growing with every passing minute as the clock crept toward the agreed-upon six o’clock time.

A knock at the door.

Lana bolted from her spot and hurried to the front entrance, her heart pounding.

The moment she opened the door and saw Conrad’s bright smile, her anxiety vanished in an instant.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but now for a different reason—for love.

"Hi there, gorgeous," he said, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

She melted into him, burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar cologne. Surprisingly, the scent didn’t make her feel sick—it made her take a deep, appreciative breath.

"I missed you so much," Conrad murmured against her hair.

"I missed you too, Conrad, you have no idea," she whispered, holding onto him like he was her lifeline.

"Oh, I can tell by the way you’re clinging to me," he teased, gently prying one of her arms loose to kiss her wrist.

"Shall we? I don’t want to keep your family waiting." He gestured toward the door and nudged her forward.

"Y-Yeah, sure." Lana tried to regain her composure.

Her hand hesitated on the doorknob for a moment before she took a deep breath and pushed it open.

To her surprise, the entire family was already gathered in the foyer, waiting.

Lana swallowed hard.

"Uh, guys, this is Conrad. Conrad Rice." She gestured between him and her family. "Conrad, meet my family. My father, Joseph Snow. My mother, Novelia Snow. My brother, Valerio. And my little sister, Clarissa."

"Nice to finally meet you, Conrad," Nova said warmly, stepping forward and lightly touching his arm in welcome. "Lana’s told us so much about you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Snow. I’ve heard so many good things about you as well," Conrad replied, smiling.

"Please, call me Nova. ‘Mrs. Snow’ makes me feel ancient."

"Sure… Mrs.—I mean, Nova," he corrected himself awkwardly, earning a chuckle from her.

"Welcome, Conrad. It’s a pleasure," Joseph said, extending a hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Snow," Conrad replied, matching his formal tone as they shook hands.

"I’m next!" Clary announced, shoving past Valerio and grabbing Conrad’s hand. "Hi, Conrad! I’m Clarissa, but you can call me Clary. You are so handsome! My sister is a lucky one." Without waiting for a response, she began tugging him toward the living room. "Come on! I made you a pie!"

"Oh! Uh—hi, Clary! Nice to meet you," Conrad laughed, barely getting the words out between her nonstop chatter.

"Clary, let him breathe," Valerio said, stepping forward and gently pushing her aside.

"Hey, man. I’m Valerio. But I’m sure you already know that." His smirk was accompanied by a side-eye at his little sister as he extended his hand.

"Of course. Lana speaks of you with great fondness. Happy to finally meet you, brother," Conrad replied, shaking his hand.

"Alright, now that introductions are done, let’s not let dinner get cold," Nova announced, gesturing toward the dining table.

As everyone moved toward their seats, Conrad reached into his pocket. "Wait—Mrs. Snow, I brought something for you."

"Just Nova, dear. And oh, how thoughtful of you!" She accepted the carefully wrapped package with a smile.

Conrad had brought small gifts for everyone, based on Lana’s stories about them. Clarissa was particularly thrilled with her new makeup kit.

"Oh my gosh! How did you know? This is the new collection! Alycia is going to be so jealous! Thank you, Conrad!" Clary squealed, throwing her arms around him.

"Alright, everyone! Now, seriously, sit down! Dinner is waiting!" Nova interrupted, laughing at the chaos.

Once everyone had settled, plates were filled, and conversation flowed.

Conrad, in solidarity with Lana, drank juice the entire evening, always keeping an eye on her to make sure she was comfortable.

Valerio, seated across from him, watched him closely—almost like he was assessing his every move.

Clary, ever so bubbly, was determined to hold his attention.

"So, Conrad, dear, tell us more about yourself," Nova said gently, looking at him. "Where are you from? Who are your parents? Lana mentioned you study with her?"

Lana stopped chewing with a slight worry flickering in her eyes as she glanced at Conrad.

She knew this topic might be sensitive for him.

"Mom, too many questions at once," she interjected.

"Ughm—" Conrad quickly chewed, swallowing his food so he could answer properly. "It's okay, Lana," he reassured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I’m from Chestnut Ridge, born and raised there. My father is a politician and businessman, and my mother is... well, his wife," he said with a small, amused smile, showing that he was okay with turning it into a joke. "She mostly took care of everything at home and runs a couple of charity funds." His voice softened. "We’re not very close, though. Definitely not like what you have here in your family." He offered a small, slightly bitter smile but quickly regained his composure. "And yes, Lana and I study the same specialty, but I’ve branched out more into comedy."

"Ah, that’s interesting. So you plan to lead your own shows in the future?" Joseph asked, quickly engaging in the conversation.

"That’s certainly in my plans, Mr. Snow. But for now, I’m more focused on writing scripts for other comedians."

"Dad, Conrad actually landed a huge gig recently! A well-respected studio hired him to write a script for one of their best performers, right, honey?" Lana said proudly, glancing between Conrad and Joseph.

"Impressive," Joseph nodded in approval. "Really impressive."

As the dinner continued, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. Everyone slowly adjusted to Conrad’s presence, and he, in turn, felt warmed by their welcoming spirit. He started to relax, letting himself enjoy the evening.

----------------------------------˚ʚ♡ɞ˚------------------------------------

Midway through the meal, right before dessert, Lana suddenly felt a little dizzy.

She excused herself and stepped away from the table. Conrad immediately noticed and, with concern across his face, followed her.

By the time they reached the bathroom door, the dizziness had passed, and the wave of nausea seemed to subside.

"Are you alright? Need anything? Water, maybe?" Conrad asked with his worry evident as he touched her face, checking her temperature.

"I’m okay. No need, I feel better. Thank you," she said, panting slightly while leaning into him. "I guess I just needed a bit of fresh air."

"Your sickness is back? Why didn’t you tell me? We would’ve—"

"Yeah, we would’ve canceled?" she cut him off with a knowing smile on her lips as she kissed his cheek. "That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you—because you would’ve canceled it."

"Ah, Lana…" He shook his head, sighing. "Please, just promise me you’ll make your health a priority. I’m begging you."

"Okay. But I wanted to see you, to be close to you. I didn’t want to postpone it."

She got into his embrace, seeking warmth and comfort.

"So, how am I doing?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"Great. I saw their looks���they all like you," she said with a smile, tilting her head up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

"You think? I don’t know about your brother, though. He looked at me like—" he trailed off, mimicking Valerio’s piercing stare.

"What, Valerio? Nah, he’s cool. He liked you, I’m sure," she giggled. "He’s just overprotective and too serious sometimes. Don’t take it personally."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Mhm," she murmured before deepening the kiss.

"Lana, ugh... your family is right across the room. Slow down," he chuckled against her lips, slowly pulling away.

"I don’t care, I missed you," she murmured, leaning back in.

"We shouldn’t make them wait," he said, gently nudging her face away with a smile before wrapping her in a deep hug.

She let out a breathy sigh. "Mmhmm, alright."

"By the way, I spoke to my parents—I want you to stay with us for the time being. So, you’re staying here with me," she said with a playful giggle.

"Lana, I—" he started, but she gave him a childish pout. "Ugh… How can I say no to those eyes of yours? Sure, I’ll stay," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they made their way back to the table.

----------------------------------˚ʚ♡ɞ˚------------------------------------

As soon as they returned, Clary rushed up and grabbed Conrad’s hand, dragging him toward the table.

"Conrad! Lana, let him be for a moment—he's gotta try my pie. Hey, Conrad, please try it," she said, pushing a plate with a chocolate pie closer to him.

"Yeah, Conrad, try it. Or, she would never stop yapping about it," Valerio teased, smirking at Clary.

"Oh, shut up! You’re just envy that I can make a pie like this and you can’t," she shot back.

"Of course I am," Valerio laughed, then turned to Conrad, silently urging him to just try it already.

"Okay, okay, it’s impossible to say no to such a delicious-looking pie," Conrad said, taking a bite.

Clary leaned forward, practically watching his every chew. "So? What do you think?"

"Mmm, delicious! Thank you, Clary. It’s really tasty—I appreciate the thought. Chocolate pies are my favorite," he said sincerely, still savoring the bite.

"Told ya he'd love it! And the flour was just enough!" she grinned at Valerio before grabbing a slice for herself.

Valerio shook his head with a soft smile, finding the whole thing adorable.

The rest of the evening continued smoothly.

The family gave Conrad their full attention, asking about his hobbies, plans, and sharing their own stories.

----------------------------------˚ʚ♡ɞ˚------------------------------------

By the end of dinner, Conrad helped Nova and Joseph clean up while Lana went upstairs to rest as her dizziness returned.

As Conrad finished loading the dishwasher, Nova suddenly appeared behind him, startling him slightly.

"Oh, I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to startle you," she said with an amused smile. "I just wanted to say thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "For what, Mrs.—I mean, Nova?" he corrected with a smile.

"For loving and taking care of my daughter. For coming here, talking to her, making sure she’s okay. And for my future grandchild," she added with a knowing smile.

Conrad swallowed, emotions welling in his chest. "I should be thanking you, Nova—for your daughter. She’s amazing. I can’t imagine my life without her anymore."

"I’m really happy to hear that, Conrad. I see what she sees in you, and I understand why she was so enthusiastic about you. Welcome to the family, dear. We’re glad to have you." She pulled him into a warm hug.

His heart got lost in a mix of joy and emotion.

Feeling welcomed by this family was a blessing.

"Thank you, Mrs.—I mean, Nova," he said, hugging her back. "I’d better go check on Lana."

----------------------------------˚ʚ♡ɞ˚------------------------------------

When he reached Lana’s room, she immediately hugged him at the doorstep, kissing him deeply. "I’ve missed you so much."

He returned her kiss, matching her intensity.

When they finally pulled apart, she handed him some clothes to change into.

After he returned from the bathroom, he found her standing by the mirror, her hand gently resting on her belly.

Conrad stepped closer, waving at her belly. "Hello, little one. It’s me, your dad," he said with a soft smile. "Your mom and I can’t wait to meet you. We love you so much."

Kneeling down, he brushed his lips lightly against Lana’s belly before tilting his head up to meet her gaze.

"Thank you—for this. For the chance to be with you, be a part of your life, your family, to be a father, and to be loved. I can’t express how much this means to me. I love you, Lana."

She cupped his shoulders, pulling him back up, and kissed him softly. "I love you too, Conrad. More than anything."

<Previous- Next>

[ecommmax]

The house was vast, its corridors filled with the hush of whispered steps and the quiet rustle of skirts against thighs. Jane stood poised, her fingers lightly gripping the wooden handle of her mop, her breath slow, controlled. The air carried the faint scent of lavender polish and warm candle wax. Every inch of her body hummed with awareness. She had been taught to wait, to listen, to obey.

To her left, Olivia stretched up, her delicate hands dusting the highest shelves, the motion drawing her dress tight against her hips, her mouth slightly parted in quiet concentration. Behind her, Lily swept, her posture perfect, the slow, deliberate motion of her broom a ritual of submission. They worked in silent synchrony, their movements fluid, elegant, practiced.

The Master’s rules were unspoken but absolute. Posture must be impeccable. Silence was to be maintained unless permission was granted. Correction, if given, was to be received with gratitude. Each task, each motion, was an offering—a devotion to the life they had chosen, or perhaps, the life that had been chosen for them.

Jane felt the weight of his gaze before she saw him. The heat of it traced the curve of her neck, the arch of her back, the way the crisp white apron cinched her waist and framed the swell of her breasts. Her lips parted, just slightly.

She longed for the moment he would step forward, fingers grazing the edge of her apron, tilting her chin up with nothing more than a silent command. A brush of his breath at her ear, a whisper of approval—or discipline. Her pulse quickened. She had been trained well, molded to be the perfect vessel of service, pleasure, and devotion.

Across the room, Olivia had stilled, sensing him too. A flush crept up her neck, vanishing beneath her starched collar. Lily’s sweeping slowed, the tension in the air palpable, the anticipation a silent symphony between them.

They had no need to look at one another. They understood.

They existed for his pleasure.

For they had been born to serve.

[athenanfaymont]

A Peek Into My Latest Superbat Fanfic: Secrets, Emotions, and the World I’ve Built ✨💫

I’ve thrown myself completely into my latest Superbat fanfic, and I’m not sure how to explain just how deep I’ve gone into this. I’ve entered this world so fully that it feels more like I’m living it than just writing it. The clarity with which I see it—it’s like reading a comic, but it’s not just any comic. This one’s mine, and it’s unfolding in front of me, frame by frame, with details so sharp I can almost touch them. And it’s alive: a film, a memory. 📖🖤

In my mind, Bruce isn’t just Bruce Wayne. He’s wearing the most incredible brands—luxury suits and watches, expensive tastes in illogical cars. His life feels so full of wealth, privilege, and sophistication. But also? Alfred is there too—tending to his garden, knowing every flower’s meaning like it’s a secret that only he understands. He cares for the plants as much as he cares for Bruce. There’s so much heart in this place, even though Alfred doesn’t even show up there.

And Clark? Clark is so much more than the superhero I knew. He’s got this calm, gentle smile—tired but full of love—and he’s the type to place a hand on the Robins’ shoulders, grounding them, offering support even when he’s carrying the world on his own. When he’s Clark, there’s this quiet strength that is almost... fragile. He lets himself be small in those moments. He’s human too.

I’ve even gone so far as to map out Wayne Manor, down to each room, each door. I can feel the space. I can smell Alfred’s cooking—the rich aromas of comfort food that fill the halls. Seasonal vegetables, fresh bread, the smell that tells you it’s safe. It’s the kind of world I can’t help but want to live in.

The emotional moments hit hardest. I get nervous as I struggle with Bruce’s silence when he can’t find the right words. I feel Clark’s fear, because sometimes he is fragile. These scenes, these moments, they mean so much to me. Every word matters. Every breath feels like it weighs something.

And here I am, sharing this with you. A little secret about what goes on in my mind when I’m writing. I hope when you read it, you’ll be able to see this world the way I do. I want you to feel the weight of every emotion I’ve poured into these pages. To see the luxury, but also the vulnerability. To understand the bond between these characters, to feel everything I feel as I write.

This isn’t just a fanfic. It’s a world I’ve built with my own hands, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

[forest-of-stories]

I don’t usually think of stories as having One True Correct Meaning, but I find OP’s reading at least as interesting as a straightforward trolley problem interpretation or a finger-wagging reminder to Acknowledge Our Complicity In Suffering.

i have to say i think its kind of baffling when omelas is taken as a very literal trolley problem about a tortured kid instead of, like, pointedly making fun of the common idea that a positive world, social change, pleasure itself, must come with some sort of painful caveat in order for that happiness to hold meaning or exist in the first place... so many interpretations treat the idea of people walking away from a (very obviously hypothetical) utopia with an even more hypothetical evil underbelly as them lazily giving up on reforming Omelas the Real City, rather than them philosophically abandoning the idea that the (again, entirely theoretical) Omelas represents (that pleasure cannot exist without pain).

what is even the relevance of this to the "I would save the kid instead of abandoning it because I actually believe in changing the world" interpretations.

The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. We have almost lost hold; we can no longer describe happy man, nor make any celebration of joy. (...) Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing.

[michellymy]

Sweet Bird - 1

There it goes!

I was thinking about posting the complete comic, but I noticed the images would be too long to read, so let’s go posting by parts.

And I said it in the previous post: this is a backstory! I won’t tell whose is it, but I think it’s not hard to figure it out (especially if I add colors later, but this is a dream for a far future lmao)

If you can reblog, I’d be grateful, but if you can’t, I’m glad you read this <3

And a last comment:

I loved these parts.

That’s all. Thanks for your attention.

[thepersonalwords]

Infinite possibilities exist within the art of storytelling. To me, it is nothing less than the magic of creation.

Rai Aren

[rudamaruda520]

me as a writer