#aka you don't get to see it ahead of time before it's published

[alwaysxyou]

.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I looked through your FAQs and didn’t see an answer (feel free to direct me to a post if you’ve already answered); I’d love any tips you have on finding an agent. The internet has some good suggestions, but also conflicting advice. Thanks so much!

Finding and Querying a Literary Agent

First, a quick when/why for literary agents: If you want to pursue traditional publishing for your book, it's a good idea to secure a literary agent first. For one thing, many publishers (particularly the bigger, more famous publishing houses) do not accept manuscripts that aren't represented by an agent (aka unsolicited manuscripts.) Some of the smaller and independent publishers do, but it can be easy to fall victim to predatory publishers without an agent who is knowledgeable about reputable publishers.

Furthermore, an agent can help you through the publishing process and ensure that your best interests are being represented in your contract with your publisher. The great thing about literary agents is they don't cost you anything out of pocket. You only pay them if you get a book deal, and that payment comes out what the publisher pays to acquire your manuscript. So, if you want to pursue traditional publishing, agents are a win-win.

Finding literary agents to query: Before you can land a literary agent, you have to find literary agents to query. The first step in that is making sure you understand where your book fits into the publishing industry. In other words, you need a pretty good idea of your books genre, age category (if applicable), and what makes your book stand out from similar books. This will help you identify agents who are interested in representing books like yours.

Once you know where your book fits, you can start making a list of agents to query. Use sites like Query Tracker and Publisher's marketplace to find and research potential agents. The Writer's Digest web site also has a blog dedicated to talking about literary agents. You can also look in the acknowledgements of books that are similar to yours to see who represented that book, and research them to see if they're still a good fit. If there's an author who has written books similar to yours, you can also check their web site to see who represents them.

Querying potential agents: Once you have your list of agents to query, you need to look at each agent specifically to find out their submissions guidelines. There are lots of good resources online that will help you write a query letter. You will need to personalize each query letter/packet for each individual agent you're submitting to. It's important that you follow each individual agent's submission guidelines to a tee to increase the likelihood of your submission making it onto their desk and catching their eye.

Many writers who pursue traditional publishing choose to query in batches, meaning that they send out a certain number of queries (most writers do batches of between 10 and 20 submissions) and wait. Potential responses: -- no response (which after eight weeks is usually a "no thank you") -- rejection letter (with or without light feedback) -- request to revise and resubmit -- partial manuscript request -- full manuscript request -- offer of representation If you are asked to revise and resubmit or to send your partial/full manuscript, you're essentially back to waiting on that one and could get additional interest, an offer of representation, or a rejection. If you don't receive an offer of representation in that batch, you go ahead and set up a new batch to send out and start the process over again.

Life in the query trenches: The reality of life "in the query trenches" is that you will receive a lot of rejections. That doesn't mean you're a bad writer or that your manuscript is bad. All writers who pursue traditional publishing get rejection letters. Some of the most famous, highest acclaimed novels in history were rejected by countless publishers. Querying is as much a balance of timing, luck, and following submission directions as it is about the viability of your manuscript. And, unfortunately, traditional publishing is a money-making game first and foremost. No matter how amazing your book may be, if a publishing house doesn't think your book has wide enough appeal to make back the cost of publishing and distributing it, they're not going to take the risk.

If your book doesn't have enough mass market appeal to catch the interest of a big or mid-sized publisher, you might look more closely at small, independent publishers. Just make sure to thoroughly research your choices to avoid predatory presses. If a publisher asks for money out of pocket, they're not a traditional publisher but rather a hybrid publisher or subsidy press, which is not the same thing. And, you can of course always look into self-publishing, as this can be a great avenue for books with more niche appeal.

I hope that answers your questions!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[lady-of-the-spirit]

3, 8, 9, 20, 27, 32, 35, 51, 53 and 64 for the fic writer ask game!

3. on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

It has its place, and I am guilty of slipping romance or at least shippy vibes into fics that I did not INTEND to be romantic. I also like writing it in general, even though I struggle with writing the physical aspects (kissing). so I'd say, probably like, a 7/10. which is surprising, because the majority of my fics are rated Gen.

actually I went and figured out that out of all my fics, 70% of them are rated gen which I think is a fun coincidence.

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

If I ask for it, I would like it. I don't want it if I didn't ask for it. I may still read it and consider it, but I'm gonna be annoyed by it. Feedback in general? fine - but I do like more than just "I liked this", although I love those comments. when I'm looking for FEEDBACK though, I need more than that. I need to know all your thoughts.

9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

If I'm involved, why not? I think the majority of my (imagined) works would work better as a series, though. We've seen how turning longer works into movies works - usually not very well. I want to see my ocs on the screen. (in my dream world it would be an animated show, especially the fantasy ones, but we can't have everything in this live action obsessed world.)

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

soft fics: found family

hurt/comfort fics: trauma reveals

27. do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? And who do you share them with?

depends on how much thought I put into a fic. I'll usually at least scan through and reread fics before publishing, but if it's a fic I wrote in one sitting totally at random? I'll skim it and then post without thinking twice. Fics that I put more thought in, I'll go over at least a few times before publishing. I've only shared rough drafts a few times, and that's when I'm really unsure about the story for some reason and need someone to give it a scan and let me know their thoughts.

32. do characters influence your writing style?

oh definitely!! Every character is a little different so that changes how I write their perspective, so that automatically changes the voice I use when I'm writing.

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

Most characters I love a whole lot are very different from me lmao but the one who comes to mind most of all is probably Yataka from Arata the Legend. He's a very prim and proper man, very focused on etiquette and being a gentleman, he hates being touched, is obsessed with cleanliness, and also is a HUGE bitch, will bicker like a 5 year old with his best friend (neither of them would admit to being best friends and have one of THE MOST dynamics of all time), and has the capacity for extreme violence and absolutely unhinged behaviour. he also hates himself so much. I'm obsessed with him I love him so much.

51. share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Sersi gets harassed/assaulted and the team/whoever sees it are fiercely protective. (aka more Sersi whump and team dynamics.) (I'm still debating whether Ikaris should know or not because he may straight up kill the person.)

53.when writing, do you have an outline? and do you stick to it?

depends on how much I care about the details of the story, or how much I want to get it right. Especially if it's a longer fic, I want to plan as much as I can ahead of time. Or if it deals with more serious topics, I want to figure out how to deal with those ahead of time.

64. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve read?

5 Times Where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji Lose a Braincell and 1 Time Where They Lose Another on account of it being a perfect summary of the fic.

fanfic writer ask game

[xoxoemynn]

5, 12, 18 for the fic writer asks??

YAY THANK YOU!

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP From the Big WIP aka my Afterlight Boys! This is where, if he were in one of his shows, someone would point out there’s always a rainbow after a storm, and only bright and magical things ahead, and they’d burst into song and dance as the stage lit up in color and the audience gasped and cheered and clapped.

12. a trope you’re really into right now MAKE IT ACHE!!! I don't care how, I need Ed and Stede DESPERATE and HURTING and YEARNING and DEVOID OF ALL HOPE. I need them to CRY. I need them to push each other away. And then I need them to cry more and kiss the tears away. idk if that's really a "right now" so much as an "always" but... yes. Pain.

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic Okay I had to search for this, because I lost a lot of my deleted snippets when my computer died since I kept so many on Scrivener and did not back up appropriately. 😭 But here's an earlier version of a scene from Here's to the Night. I reworked it because the tone was getting more melancholy than the fic called for. Behind a cut because I couldn't just pick a single paragraph and it's long.

Ed licked the remnants of the chip off his thumb and then leaned in close to Stede. “Why’d you and your wife split up?”

Stede shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I guess you could say we were incompatible.”

“You mean that you’re gay.”

All the air left Stede’s lungs. He didn’t know why this felt like crossing such a line. He’d been flirting with Ed on the company phone line all night and had made an excuse for him to come up just so he could spend more time with him, alone, on a holiday traditionally spent with couples.

But hearing the word out loud, and describing him, made Stede like he was caught talking too loudly in the library by the strict librarian. He just barely resisted the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure nobody heard.

“Stede, mate, you okay?”

Stede shook his head. “No, you’re right. I just…” He let out a soft half-laugh. “I’ve never actually said it before. I knew it. Have known it. And by the end I think even my ex-wife knew it, although she never said anything. I just… wow. Wowie wow wow.”

“Do you want to say it now?” Ed asked quietly. “Just for the hell of it?”

“I’m gay,” Stede said. The words sounded loud in the empty office, so loud Stede was semi-surprised they didn’t echo throughout the hallways. He smiled. “I’m gay.”

“Congrats, mate.” Ed clapped his shoulder. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

“Felt weird,” Stede admitted. “Like it wasn’t even really me saying it. But also I felt… more me? Does that even make sense?”

“Completely,” Ed said. “And maybe now you can start living your real life.”

“What, just because I’ve said out loud what I’ve always known?” Stede scoffed.

“Listen, I get it,” Ed said quietly. “Obviously. It’s not like things have been easy for us of late.”

Stede’s throat tightened, and he shook his head. “No.”

“Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to guess?” Ed asked.

“I… I thought it was just something you grew out of,” Stede said. “I went to an all-boys’ boarding school, and it was just what you did. But while all my classmates did… I didn’t. I figured I just needed to try harder. I dated girls all through uni, and it still never felt right.”

“And…”

Stede sighed. “I pulled a classic Stede Bonnet move and ran away. Moved to New York. I thought when I was off on my own I could finally explore who I was without being surrounded by all the relics of my old life.”

Ed nodded. “And how’d that go?”

“Great. I loved it. Made me want to travel more, see everything the world had to offer. And I even dated a few men. Really nice ones, too. Not right, but it felt closer.” He looked down at his hands. “And then it was the eighties.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Stede said. “So, I moved back home, met Mary, convinced her I was the man of her dreams. We were married before she was able to come to her senses.”

Ed rested his hand on Stede’s knee. “I’m sorry, mate.”

Stede shook his head. “It’s fine. I was lying to myself, to Mary, to my family. It had to all come crashing down eventually."

[the-firebird69]

My group is not big enough to attack and for some reason Trump thinks will make his program work because we have to in this program is not good enough to do it and we're not going to do anything of the kind. I am trapped inside then aka Dave and he's the one from poltergeist and I guess I don't come out till it goes to California and he's probably going to be pushed out cuz I can hear him groaning and sort of hear the phone and it sounds like them saying they're all dead over here they're all dead over here and he's reacting accordingly and they're going to be out of here shortly and my people probably will be too because this hokey dumb s*** we're doing and her friend finds to be ridiculous it is ridiculous after a certain point you got to stop and really just still pouring into invade we haven't done anything and they're not even invading they just sit there and wait to get hit like cattle it's horrific I can't wait to get out of here to file charges Lily

Jason

I'm going to get you out of there and I'm putting the call out now and tons of us are trying to fight to get you out and this other groups my father and grandfather are working on it too and we're beating the crap out of them and they're not going to make it through the day and you should be free

Lilly

And these guys are abused by this moron they were lending a hand they're going in and we're pulling them all out all these trumpsters they're all over the place making huge noises and yelling at people and trying to start trouble and we're going after them for it I am so sick of these dumb assholes there's such idiot retards I can't believe how stupid they are if they're sitting here making all these dumb noises and threats and they're coming apart I mean they're coming apart at the seams. Two or three of The matrix are under attack once you're opened up these trumpsters will be dead so I want to get the Intel before everyone else

Mac

We have to do that too we need the Intel now an emergency meeting and we're going ahead and doing it he's right once they pop it open and we're going to have to go in there now there's tons of stuff we don't want them to have or to see that the clans of our son and daughter had so we need to go in Tron too it's kind of an emergency and our son is calling all troops to alterations and everybody to duty including civilians it's extremely important that we obtain the data and keep it a secret especially at this time and nuata and Ariana are going to speak at the meeting right now

Thor Freya

That's why I was waiting it was for this prize I guess you guys see it no and we took too long we sat on it but hey what can we say for a gifted people

Trump

Your gifted person and you wanted the money and stuff and you wanted the money and stuff of others who are trying to spy and take it and you're an idiot and you traded huge huge sums of money and information and weaponry and all sorts of things we need for absolutely nothing and for tiny amounts of army that hasn't done you anything it was just wasted by The matrix I mean you're just a fool that's why he's been saying this guy is a massive idiot

Bja

Who needs foreigners around to stop Tony f with your dumb jibber jabber I mean you're a huge idiot Trump your mouth is completely wrong I'm pleased to say that you're going to be gone in a few days permanently

Zues Hera

We can hear him sputtering and he's trying to issue orders against her son and we're countering them and I'm going to pull them out and we're going to get rid of them he's an utter piece of s***

Thor Freya

We published this now Olympus and Hera is on it

[wordsmithic]

Hello, I hope you're doing well! You might have answered this before, but would you like to share your "writing process"? How you created your characters, how you built the main plot and the minor/supporting plots of your work, how you connected them all together, I mean. You're a great writer with very vivid skill and I would like to publish my own work one day (although it'll have a different format :D). I hope I'm not bothering you with this question! Have a nice day!

You are not bothering me at all! 💜 For my WIP, The Other Evil, here is my approach on:

Writing Process Basics

I am the "Pantser" type of writer. Pantsers basically sit down without an outline without almost any preparation and start writing whatever comes to their head. Yes, there is some planning in the middle of the project but a Pantser usually gets the most and best ideas amidst writing.

A writer who is a Plotter (the oppose of a Pantser) will first decide on the characters and design the plot probably down to each chapter before typing the first word. They usually don't write down something they haven't included in their Outline. They make a plan and stick to it.

But for me, the process went like this:

Premise (manifested by inspiration, "My story will be about X")

Characters (manifested by inspiration and what the plot needed)

Writing the first chapters / discovering plot

Plot (combination of Characters + Premise) - goes on in my mind while I am writing. My brain would be approx. two chapters ahead of what I was writing at the time.

Finishing the first draft, aka the whole story from beginning to end.

Adjusting Characters (I decided that the previous versions didn't have that much depth and some of their actions didn't make sense and they weren't as cool as I wanted them to be)

Adjusting Plot (to fit the new versions of Characters)

Revising the whole text many times

Finding characters:

To find the characters I needed to have an idea of the premise, first. I didn't have the whole story in my mind but I knew how I wanted things to go down in the initial chapters. For example, I need a female MC (Lavali) and a male MC (Raphael).

But I think one important step was made many years ago, when my simple young teenage brain was very annoyed with all the YA books (that I read back then) having the female MC being lighter-skinned than the male MC. I said "I will make the opposite for a change". That helped me find the countries of origin of the characters, Lavali in India, Raphael in Iran. And the more I searched for the countries the more inspiration I got for characters, the setting, and scenes.

From the beginning, I knew I need a best friend for the female MC (Sarita) and the male MC (Firuz). I need an antagonist. I need the female MC to have a mother and a father. I need the male MC to have a son.

Character traits can come from your worldbuilding. I needed most of my characters to be fighters because there is a centuries-old war in my story and if you don't know fighting techniques and weapon handling you are dead. So, Lavali, Raphael, Sarita, and Firuz deal, more or less, with the same problems. But how each of them handles the situation? They can't all have the same approach or feelings about this war. They are four different people.

For creative minds, some things just come on their own. For example, Lavali just manifested in my brain as more pragmatic but kind, and Raphael to kinda romantic despite being tough. But sometimes things don't come as simple as that.

Then, to find what makes sense for the character you need to play some scenarios in your mind and give them different traits and see what sticks! What feels right for them and for you. If your head is completely empty, try making the characters similar to characters you've read in other books (trust me they are not going to come out exactly the same) and even answer questions in personality quizzes for them to figure more things out. A great tool is the MBTI test which in the end gives you character traits in detail.

I told you that my characters started from the premise. But how did I find the premise?

Some writers just... have inspiration about storylines. I had an inspiration initially but mid-writing I didn't feel well with how it was progressing. So I decided to loosely rely my story on the archetype of another story. (You can google about archetypes and tropes in storytelling). This confined me greatly because I had to hit certain beats in the story, but it helped me get on the right path. Restriction is the mother of inspiration. And many times characters, places, and magic systems are also defined by their restrictions.

I am more bound to the story I chose (the myth of Hades and Persephone) because I want my story to remind people of that, but other writers don't have to. You can take beats and tropes from anywhere. You can follow structures of storytelling depending on your country. One famous example of storytelling in the West is the Three Act Structure.

In this case, you can use this as the backbone of your story and create scenes BASED ON this structure. If you don't have ideas, that's a valid reason to rely on writing tools and methods. Perhaps later you will diversify your technique but starting from the basics will help.

Your side plot is a secondary set of events kind of tied with the main plot. In a lot of books the hero and heroine are involved romantically (side plot: their romantic relationship) and sometimes this helps them unite and defeat their enemy (main plot: how to defeat the enemy). The main plot and the side plot don't have to be interconnected but it feels more satisfying for many readers when they are, at least a bit.

In any case, you need to leave occasionally some space in your main plot, so the events of the side plot can happen. In the following diagram, the primary plot is in blue and the secondary in red. They go in parallel.

Connecting characters together:

This came naturally because the characters had a certain relationship to the MC. E.g. when Lavali gets abducted, how would her mother react? She would try to get her back, of course. But what trouble will create this for Lavali's abductor (Raphael)? -- And why did Raphael abduct Lavali in the first place? Because she put his son in mortal danger. Characters have to act and react to what other characters are doing. That's how you bind them together.

Start with the characters you know best and think about how they would react. Once you practice with your main cast you can expand your game to the surrounding characters. Start small. No need to panic about tackling the whole cast at once. You can leave your surrounding characters one-dimensional until you are ready to give them depth.

You can change characters and plot in many rounds of drafting. "Writing" is, in reality, "revising". You will write the whole story once but you will have to revise it (along with the characters) ten times.

Good luck with your project! You can send more asks if you like and I will do my best to give my perspective!

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Unhinged

One-Shot

This one-shot is my entry for @jtargaryen18 's super spooky Haunted House writing challenge! The prompt was - A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see). You are never seen again.

I had extremely fun writing this story with Mr Freezy! 😍 I hope you guys enjoy it! Please click here to check out all the other wonderful entries!

Description: Villain!Reader meets Mr Freezy aka Robert Pronge and, let's just say they don't get along well.

Warnings: Torture, mentions of murder, non-consensual acts of sex, abusive language, dark theme. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

Word count: 4300~

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

You looked at the pale, lifeless face of a certain Mr Patterson. Skin shriveled up, eyes gouged out, side of the face smashed in and the mouth permanently set in a horrified expression, Mr Patterson laid on the table in front of you as his widow sobbed beside him.

"I-I can't ev-even look-k at hi-him," she croaked between her tears, "My sweet-sweetheart, who-o would d-do this-ss to yo-you?" she wondered rhetorically as she completely broke down in the arms of her daughter, a woman of closely your age.

The daughter couldn't bear to look at her deceased father as she consoled her other parent. She looked at you with sadness, "Can you, maybe, make him look, a little, a bit, presentable?" she inquired quietly, "It's not going to be an open casket funeral. But we, we just want him to, you know, look a little…like slightly, better."

You almost laughed at her face on the request, but years of working at a funeral home as a makeup artist to the dead had trained you not to gawk any client's requests.

You successfully suppressed your laughter, and instead donned a sincere expression, "I will surely try my best ma'am. I am sorry for your loss, please accept my condolences."

As the mother-daughter duo left the room, you turned to face Mr Patterson. "Condolences my ass," you muttered as you spat at his face. It was ironic how the majority of your victims found their way to the funeral home where you worked. Take Mr Patterson here for example, not less than 48 hours ago he was begging you to spare his life, and now, here he was, laid out in front of you, lifeless.

You considered him for a moment, then decided against wasting your good makeup on this pervert bastard. Or maybe he might have been innocent? Who cared, he was dead now. Maybe he was truly looking at the Halloween decorations hung around the house behind you that night, or maybe he was just ogling at you. It was dark so you couldn't get a good look. But hey, you had a suspicion that he was checking you out, so you obviously had to teach him a lesson!

You still remembered killing your first victim. It had been your piano instructor. That lecherous pedophile had forcibly pulled you down on his lap, stating that sitting on him will make you a better pianist. You had grabbed the nearest glass vase and brought it down multiple times on his head, until the carpet beneath was red and his screams were all but an echo in the living room of your parent's house.

Since then, murder had become an activity from which you rarely partook in, then turned in to a pastime, a hobby, a passion and now finally, it was as natural and as necessary as breathing for you.

It didn't matter whom you killed anymore. Whether it was an old man looking at his neighbor's Halloween decorations, a dull attendant at the supermarket, an enthusiastic door-to-door salesman, a college student listening to irritating music on their headphone, or an incessant toddler crying for attention in the store, you didn't care. Anybody who irritated you, or pushed your buttons in the wrong way, or just, was at the same place at the same time with you doing something you disapproved of in your mind, you made sure to dispose of them.

The world had enough idiots, you didn't need any more of them around you.

You quickly wound up your work and left. Halloween was tomorrow and you had to make a quick stop to a local celebrity haunted house that you hoped had already been set up. It was being organized by an NGO for some God knows what charity and the tickets had proven to be difficult to procure. So you had just decided to break into the establishment a night prior.

Unfortunately, the exhibit was still being set up when you reached the venue and so, you decided to try again tomorrow night.

🎃

"OMG I can't wait to see him!" the teenagers standing in the line for the exhibit squealed as you watched them from the shadows. You looked at them with disgust, open contempt. Bloody fucking teenagers, you thought as you regarded their extreme enthusiasm. Clad in rhinestone studded clothes which sparkled under the streetlight, all the teenagers were busy on their iPhones. You rolled your eyes as each girl went live on either Instagram, Snapchat, Tik Tok or God knows what app. Fortunately, they were the last group to be admitted inside the exhibit, and if you could just time everything right, then you could maybe pull this off.

Gingerly, you approached the one who was facing away from the group, her front camera facing her with the entrance of the exhibit behind her. You cleared your throat, "Hi, um, excuse me, could you please help me?"

The teenager looked at you and flashed a wide smile, "Sure what's up?"

You smiled in relief, this would be easy, "I think my car keys fell somewhere back there, and my phone died so I can't really find them. Will you please come with me? I could use your phone's flashlight."

"Oh sure absolutely! Hey guys," the teenager called her friends, "Let's go and help her find her car keys."

"Oh no no no that's not necessary," you said urgently as her other friends grinned kindly at you, "I really just need one person. You guys stay here and hold your position in the line. We will be back in a few minutes."

"Are you sure?"' inquired another girl from the group.

"Yes yes," you smiled back in a reassuring manner.

The teenager who came with you - Ashley - looked at the grass and sidewalk at your request. If you hadn't want to enter the haunted house so much, then you would have considered sparing poor Ashley's life. Meh, you thought as you slowly crept up behind her, life wasn't always fair.

"Hey Ashley, please look under this car. I think it might have gone underneath it," you requested with a sincere expression.

She nodded as she got on all her fours, "It's not here."

"Try inhaling a big whiff of air. The keychain has a strawberry scented air freshener on it. Maybe you could smell it?" you suggested, knowing full well that the cyanide sprinkled under the car by you would instantly kill Ashley.

Your plan worked almost too well. As she painfully writhed on the floor gasping for air, you took her smartphone, hid her hideous rhinestone phone cover in your pocket and headed towards the exhibit.

Ashley's friends were waiting for her at the entrance when you reached. You told them that she was on a call with someone and would join them soon. While they still waited for her, you showed the guard the e-pass on Ashley's phone and entered the haunted house.

You were thrilled at seeing your most favorite characters almost alive in front of you! The animated wax statues bore close resemblance to their movie counterparts. Whether it was the Ghostface from Scream, the creepy Annabelle doll, the weird guy in the hockey mask, the Nun, Pennywise the Clown or the long-haired lady from The Ring, they all looked truly horrifying and you were loving it!

As you ventured further, you were surprised to see Chris Evans' character Mr Freezy or Robert Pronge. The movie wasn't exactly popular, but you figured they had maybe included this character now that Evans was all the rage thanks to the uptight stick-in-the-ass Captain America character.

Mr Freezy was standing besides his ice-cream truck, inviting you to enter it in repetitive robotic movements. His face with his signature long hair and glasses smiled at you vacantly as you looked on.

You vaguely remembered watching this movie, hell, you had even copied the cyanide idea from Mr Freezy himself! Just when you squinted your eyes, hoping to remember more parts from the movie, you heard noises behind you.

"She came inside, Officer," said a voice that sounded like one of the girls from the group. Shit! They must have discovered Ashley! you panicked as you looked for a way out. The door ahead of you had been mechanically locked shut, and the voices behind you were growing louder by the minute. The bright lights flickered on and the animations of the objects around you completely stopped.

Except for Mr Freezy.

His movements increasingly sped up and his eyes grew wider. At first, you thought it might be a malfunction, but you were shocked when he whispered your name, "Enter the truck to escape. NOW!"

As if on auto-pilot, you opened the door and hurriedly stepped in. The dry ice engulfed you, the voices lessening in volume behind you. A moment later, the entire truck shook violently, causing you to blindly hold on to the sides and yelp in surprise.

Suddenly, someone pressed the brakes and you lurched forward. The dry ice cleared inside the van as you stumbled towards the driver's seat. You heard someone close the door and walk towards the back of the truck. A moment later, the backdoors of the van were opened by none other than Mr Freezy himself.

Your jaw dropped to the floor and he mirrored your expression, the pair of you taking in each other's appearances.

Your modern 21st century clothes were completely out of place in the 1960s America that was home to Robert Pronge. His blue eyes from behind his long curtain of hair seized you up as he recovered from shock.

"Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing in my van?" he broke the foreboding silence.

You cocked your head to the side, your brain unable to comprehend the reality of the situation. Did you just appear on a movie set? What sort of time-space travel bullshit was this?

"ANSWER ME YOU CUNT," Mr Freezy's voice was loud enough to break you from your reverie, but the strong, tall, well-built man hardly intimidated you.

Instead of cowering as he expected you to, you raised your eyebrow, "So you are one of those method actors huh? Sorry I appeared on your set unannounced Mr Captain Evans," you said with spite as you walked towards him and crouched down to be at his eye level, "I will be on my fucking way now."

"Mr Capta-what? Who the fuck sent you? How did you come inside my van when I locked it? You weren't in there when I left Atlantic Avenue. What the fuc-"

You punched him in the face before he could finish his sentence. Though you liked his deep, smooth voice, his incessant cursing and hostility had started to get under your skin.

As he stumbled backwards from the force of your punch, you looked around him and noticed the absolute absence of large lights, cameras, large crew and any kind of set whatsoever.

You jumped from the van and looked at Chris Evans again as you landed on your feet. He looked exactly like his character in the movie. But something didn't feel right. That's when you heard the small click of his revolver.

Before he could aim it at you, you hit his right palm that held the firearm and twisted it, effectively breaking it in the process. He screamed in pain and tried to move away from you, but you weren't done yet.

Pulling him towards you, your knee brutally met with his pelvis and you punched the air out from his stomach. He doubled down with pain, his eyes watering as he tried to regain balance. But one swift blow to the back of his head turned his world dark.

You were panting when Mr Freezy finally lost consciousness and collapsed on the ground. You looked around again. The streets were isolated and there were barely any houses lined on the sidewalk.

You felt around your pockets for your belongings, but found them empty. You waited around for a few minutes, hoping to get some sense of clarity for your situation as Mr Freezy drooled on the street.

Finally, you resigned and hauled his heavy ass back into the van in the passenger's seat. Desperate for some sort of explanation, you put your hands inside his pants' pockets. You were rewarded with his wallet, some keys and a bunched up paper with an address roughly scribbled on it.

The year on the license was 1963 and the city stated was Jersey City of New Jersey.

Just as you secured his unconscious body with the seatbelt, you took a close look at his face. Despite the creepy hair, he did look handsome. Afterall, it was Chris Evans! Or some sort of alternate-universe-reincarnation-asshole version of his. His soft plump lips looked a bit dirty, so you looked down at his crotch. The pants had riddled up when you had placed him on his seat, giving you a clear outline of his dick.

And my was it a sight!

His thick member was struggling against the uncomfortable position of the pants. The rotund rod was anything but flaccid. You squeezed and rubbed your palm over the semi-hard member, cherishing the disgruntled noises that escaped his lips.

After about 5 minutes, you decided to drive his van back towards the line of houses. You guessed you were at the outskirts of the city and right now, you needed to find how to blend in with the people.

Soon enough, you were deep within the city and found a dress shop. All the signs on the shops which you passed seemed to fit the 1960s, thus leaving no doubt that you had actually time traveled into the past, that too in a completely different timeline.

You considered breaking into the shop and stealing a few clothes, but then decided against it. You were absolutely against stealing. It was probably the only crime you couldn't excuse.

The only time you hadn't paid for your stuff was when you wanted to buy a yellow dress. The lady shopkeeper with kind eyes had told you that the colour purple suited you better than yellow, and insisted that you buy the same. Later that night, you had calmly walked over the old woman's dead body and grabbed the yellow dress that you had loved.

You looked at the dresses in the shop window and decided to come back tomorrow. That's when you noticed the sign "WHITES ONLY".

You went back to the van and grabbed the revolver. Three suppressed shots from the silenced gun destroyed the sign, the wreckage of which witnessed you breaking into the shop and literally stealing everything that was on the premises.

Two. There were two crimes you wouldn't excuse.

You turned the van around and headed back towards the outskirts of the city. It was almost morning by the time you reached the address that you had found scribbled in Mr Freezy's pocket. It seemed to be some kind of a cold storage facility in a dilapidated building.

As you managed to make your way to the second floor with his limp, but still heavy, body, you remembered seeing a similar storage facility in the movie where Mr Freezy stored the dead bodies of his victims.

Your suspicions were proven correct when you picked the lock and entered the room. You found the tub where he cut the bodies of his victims and the chains he used to tie their bodies with.

As you ventured further, you found the dead body of the girl who had been force-fed pufferfish. That you remembered well, because you had tried to buy one but couldn't get your hands on the costly bugger fish.

Looking around, your eyes fell on the chains again and an idea popped into your head.

🎃

Robert Pronge woke up to find himself naked, spread eagle on his table, hands and legs wide apart, tied to the table with secured chains. The worst part? Large chunks of ice were wrapped around his palms and feet, rendering them numb. Waves of painful, frostbiting cold passed through his body. Hardly any sounds escaped his gagged mouth as he feebly tried to recollect what had happened last night.

He vaguely remembered you, a strangely dressed woman who had suddenly appeared in his van and knocked him unconscious.

He tried to look around him, a painful but necessary moment, and he realised he was in his own facility.

After what seemed like a few hours, he heard the door open and the clickety-clack of a woman's heels came near him.

Still shuddering with cold, he looked at you with his hooded eyes, the blue irises filled with hatred.

You chuckled at him. This was going to be fun. "Good morning Robert. Or should I call you Mr Freezy? Do you have a preference?" you cheerfully asked him as he kept staring at you.

You were wearing a yellow dress with white polka-dots, and a small artificial bouffant completed your look. Basically, you were dressed like any other cunt in 1963.

"Oh silly me," you scoffed at yourself, "I forgot about the gag."

A slew of profanities escaped his plump lips as you removed the gag, "You fucking whore! Untie me right now you bitch. Who the fuck do you-aaarrgghhh!" He shut up mid-rant when you slapped his cold naked dick.

"I will not tolerate any bad language. Let's take it from the top, shall we?" you reprimanded him and gave him your name.

He tried to spit at you but failed, his body dehydrated with the cold.

"You have no idea who you have messed with bitch. When my friends find out-"

"Friends?" you asked him, feigning surprise, "I thought you worked alone. Or has Mr Freezy gone all softy for The Iceman?"

Watching Robert gulp in anticipation gave you immense satisfaction. You went away from him, the dull clang of the metal chains filled the air as you heaved and huffed. Finally, he heard you crank the lever and the metal rattled as something huge was hung upside down on the metal hook.

Richard's dull, muted musk reached his nostrils before his dead body came into view. His feet were secured on the hook while his lifeless eyes stared into nothingness. His arms waved around a bit before the metal conveyor belt was brought to a stop.

"See? Richard found you," you claimed excitedly as Richard Kuklinski or The Iceman's body slowly turned above Mr Freezy.

Robert went still. Too still. A different chill had now consumed his body, his heart. He recognised the ugly emotion. He was scared. Terrified. It had been a long time since he had felt this horrible emotion but now, he lay motionless consumed by it.

His desperation grew when he heard you hum lightly, "You don't own me, I am just not one of your many toys". He had to get away from this place, from you.

As soon as he saw you disappear inside the freezer storage, he started struggling against his bonds once again. But the chains did anything but budge. "Now now, that is no way to thank me for making sure you meet your friend,* you scolded him, returning with a heavy block of ice.

"Let me tell you-UGH," you irritably shoved aside Richard's limp body as you came to stand beside Mr Freezy's horizontal torso. "Let me tell you how this is going to work. I want the names and addresses of those dusty, old, poor excuses for flour sacks 'Mafia Bosses' who apparently rule this city," you emphasized with air quotes.

Mr Freezy regarded you carefully. He knew by now that you were dangerous, but even he had his doubts that you would be able to destroy the mafia families in New Jersey. "Rot in hell bitch," he managed to spit weakly.

You rolled your eyes, "Men. Why do they always have to be difficult?" you muttered as you placed the heavy block of ice on his chiseled abs, and he immediately started writhing with the cold. "What did I tell you about your language? Tut-tut, looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson."

And with that, you made your right hand travel down his stomach and towards his thick naked member. Upon the contact, Mr Freezy tried to still his body, but the unbearably cold chunk currently resting on top of him made it impossible for him to stop moving.

You played with the hair surrounding his trunk, twisting and pulling almost teasingly, your eyes searching for his, but unfortunately, Richard's body hung between the two of you, blocking the view. So Mr Freezy couldn't see you and you couldn't see him. But who said there was romance in maintaining eye contact?

You gently wrapped your fingers around his length, making him gasp. "Someone likes this huh?" you cooed as you sped up your gestures, his length soon hardening under your touch.

"St-stop," his command was almost a moan.

You laughed at him, at his pathetic state and at his measly little request, "I don't think you want me to," you teased him as his member was almost erect now. You increased the speed of your strokes, your hands applying more pressure to thick rod that was now bulging with veins.

His hips and thighs tightened, indicating that he was close to the finishing line. But you were not done with him. Not yet.

You completely stopped your ministrations and lifted your hand. A small groan escaped his mouth before Mr Freezy caught himself.

"N-now you lis-listen to me you bit-AARRGGHH" he tried to speak between his pants, but shrieked when you roughly slammed an ice cube against his penis.

"What did I tell you about the swearing?" you chided him as you pressed the ice cube further to his length and balls.

Mr Freezy started fighting his bonds again, and frankly speaking, his refusal to accept his fate had started to get on your nerves in a bad way. You decided to keep the chunk of ice between his legs and grab some early lunch.

You returned in about 2 hours, just to find him in the same position as you had left him. The only difference was that all the ice had now melted. Oh, and there were huge, deep, red cuts on his wrists and ankles, probably due to all the fidgeting.

He was still slightly shivering though. Eh, it wasn't your problem anyway.

"Let's try again shall we?" you asked him as you got a fresh chunk of ice from the freezer. Richard's body was still hanging exactly where you had left it when you reached for Mr Freezy's lollipop again.

He tried to shake his hips, his length dancing along with his movements, as if to discourage you. "No," he muttered through gritted teeth, "No. Stay where you are. Don't you dare don't you fucking da-"

He shut up as soon as you started stroking him again. "We need to do something about your swearing Mr Freezy. Is that the language you use when you talk to kids? Huh? Looks like I will have to teach you some manners."

He soon started feeling the knot in his stomach, ready to unwind at any second, but you stopped. Completely. Again.

Even though he was mentally prepared for the cold hard ice to be rubbed against his genitals, his body wasn't.

This continued for 4 times more before he gave up. As you tried reaching for him for the sixth time, he almost pleaded with you, "I will give you their names, addresses, fucking every detail you would want about the mob bosses. Just let me go."

You laughed at his admission. He nearly jumped out of his skin as your sickeningly sweet laughter filled the isolated room. "Do you really think it's about that now?" you asked him, am incredulous expression on your face, "Ooooh Mr Freezy. I can get that information from anyone! Sure it would be convenient if I got it from you. But that's not what all this is about."

"Wh-why?" he asked, as if he already knew the answer and was terrified by it.

"Because I like breaking strong men," you replied with a pleasant, innocent grin. "Now, let's get back to work. Hhmm?"

"No no wait. I can. No. I will give you whatever you want. You want me to kill for you? I will-"

"Do you think I need a handy boy?" you interrupted him. "You want to give me something? Fine. Then stop swearing!"

He nodded eagerly, "Done. Not a single bad word. I will stay quiet. I promise. Just let me go."

You regarded him carefully, "No," you shook your head, "I don't think you have learned your lesson yet," you claimed decisively as you headed towards his legs.

With what bare minimum strength that was left in him, he shook his body again, hoping to get away from you. "Stop touching me! Stop!"

"It's funny that your mouth says stop," you grabbed his member again, "but your dick says the complete opposite." You bent down to kick a wet stripe from his balls to the tip of his mushroom, giving it a gentle suck as you reached the tip.

Mr Freezy's breath hitched in his throat. While he felt filthy and dirty everytime you touched him, the organ between his legs was aching for your attention. A tear escaped his eye as he realised this was probably the end of his life, that he might never see his son again.

As you set to work on him again, the part of his mind which had refused to accept his fate, slowly started succumbing to your sinful torture. His rebellious spirit was only left with one thought now. To be afraid. Very afraid. Of you.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo @notyourtypicalrose @just-one-ordinary-fangirl

Chris Evans and his characters taglist: @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @badbo1-evans (unable to tag you ☹️)

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[guillotinedangel]

Day 02. ANCIENT.

Based on the January 2019 prompt list published by @downwithwritersblock

Author: @blackpaladintshirogane aka @guillotinedangel

Characters: Allura, Lance, Keith, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro and some original ones added by me which are Rajhet and his soldiers.

Ships: None.

Summary: The paladins find themselves in a planet devastated by the Galra. While they try to find survivors, Hunk and Allura walk into a hallway that takes them back in time.

_____________________________

"I don't even know what are we doing in this desert. This place is dead! Can't we go back to the castle now?" Lance whined, kicking a rock as him and the rest of the paladins walked across the dusty empty street of the collapsed city they've been patrolling for the last hour.

Keith growled at the Cuban's words but he didn't say a thing. Shiro smiled down at him, proud that the red paladin had been able to control his impulses for once.

"You know we can't" Allura stated, handling the situation.

"We picked a weird frequency coming out of this planet. I tried to decript the message, but I wasn't able to, so we have to check this the old fashioned way"

"And get killed in the process?" Lance replied, closing the fingers around his bayard tighter. That place gave him the chills even though its warm weather, "We don't know if it was the Galra or something worse to lure us here"

"It could also be a distress call" Shiro slowed down his pace to walk besides the blue paladin, "As paladins of Voltron our duty is to help anybody who is in danger"

"I get that, but we should care a little bit more about our lives if we're so important. We didn't even brought the lions!"

"They can scare people away" Keith stated dryly.

"Yeah! Precisely!"

"Uh. Guys?" Hunk stopped walking and called everyone's attention, pointing his finger at a huge piramidal construction that had seemed to appear out of nowhere, "Has that thing been there all along?"

Lance detained his steps right before crashing against the yellow paladin's back, and peeked over his shoulders to see what he was talking about.

"It definitely wasn't"

And indeed the building seemed to have popped out of nowhere, like an illusion.

"Should we check it out?" Keith suggested.

"No way! One thing is wander an abandoned town and another getting into a creepy alien piramid; ah, ah, no, just, no! "

"I'm actually with Lance on this one" Hunk mumbled, twisting his fingers with a worried look on his face, "It doesn't look welcoming"

"We still haven't found the source of the emission and this place looks like the only thing standing in miles. Maybe it's worth our while" Pidge was already looking at the construction with shiny eyes, "Who knows what we can find in there"

"Mummies and deadly traps"

"Lance, won't you shut up for a second?" Keith snapped.

"Look, mullet, I don't know if your emo soul is driving you to the darkness, but I don't wanna die young, even thought I'd make a beautiful corpse"

"You two, shut up" Shiro intervened, "We will go inside and look for survivors. Just grab your weapons and don't split up"

Grinning his teeth and not very convinced, Lance followed the rest of the team inside the piramid but, as expected, the place was huge, filled with twisted paths and narrow passageways. All the walls looked the same, and, as they walked deeper into the core of the construction, some paintings started to decorate them, so beautiful and luring that soon enough, Allura and Hunk found themselves alone at a dead end.

"Um, Allura?" Hunk called his partner with a trembling voice, looking around at the cold darkness, "I think we're alone"

The princess also took a quick look at the empy space, but she didn't seem to be as shaken as the paladin who quickly tried to contact any of the other pilots, without succeeding. Only static was heard on the other side of the comms.

"We're alone, lost and alone! We're gonna die here!"

"This is so weird" Allura mumbled, taking a step towards the adorned wall, ignoring Hunk's ranting, "Some of the paintings seem to be... glowing?"

She elongated her hand to touch them, but before Hunk's warning could reach her ears, a blinding beam of light swallowed the room.

When they opened their eyes again, the hallway had slightly changed. I wasn't dark anymore, as some torches were pending from metallic ornaments on the walls, the flames licking the rock on a scintillating motion that seemed hypnotic. Also, there was a sweet scent in the ambient, nothing like the tainted and thick air they had been breathing seconds before.

"Where are we? What just happened?"

"I told you not to touch it" Hunk said, with his back against the dead end, gazing, mistrustful, to the long hall ahead of them.

"I couldn't help it, it's like if I was driven--"

Allura stopped talking as soon as her sharp hearing caught some other sound in the air. She tried to focus, after shushing Hunk, just in case there were any of the other paladins, but she wasn't able to recognize the voices... Or the language.

" Hunk, do you have your bayard still with you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because we may have to use it"

Both of them stood in silence while the approaching beings' steps started to echo in the empty room. Their hearts where racing like wild horses, sweat dripping down their foreheads... Until a dark skinned alien's head popped out of a passageway.

When his eyes met theirs, he barked something in a rough language and another three like him showed up, blocking the only way Allura and Hunk had to escape.

Looking at them, you could say they were scary nonetheless. They had long snoots garnished with a long row of sharp teeth, black furred skin and pointy ears they were laying back, in a threatening way; the three of them dressed with nothing but a colorful garment similar to a skirt and several golden jewelry adorning their limbs and neck. Also, they were armed with long spears, that were pointing at the intruders.

They looked canine, or so Hunk thought.

"They're gonna eat us!"

"We are here to do you no harm" Allura spoke in a soothing tone, "We received the transmission, we just want to help"

The four soldiers exchanged looks and one of them, that looked like the leader because of his strong presence and bigger and more richly bejeweled necklace, addressed them in a low husky tone.

"Are you Altean?"

His question took Allura by surprise, who rose her hand to touch the marks on her cheeks without even noticing.

"I am. How do you know that?"

With a quick wave of his hand, the leader dismissed the other soldiers who lowered their weapons.

"Our planet is a strong ally to yours. My name is Rajhet, guardian of this temple. How did you get in?"

"We received a distress frequency from this planet" the princess explained, "We patrolled the city for survivors until the temple appeared out of nowhere. We thought the signal may come from here, so we walked in"

"Survivors? Walked in?" Rajhet raised and eyebrow and looked at them in disbelief, "We have suffered no attacks, our city is golden and prosper as ever. And there's no way you could have just walked into the temple without the permission of the gate guards"

"Gate guards?" Hunk repeated, "There were none. And the city is destroyed, we guess the Garla attacked it"

Rajhet turned around, enraged, to look at his soldiers. One of them, the shortest, seemed to shrink even more under the threatening gaze of his superior. He mumbled something with a scared voice before Rajhet turned back to the princess and the paladin.

" My soldier says no attack has befallen our planet, and why would the Galra attack us? They're as much as an ally to Altea as we are. You're making no sense" as he spoke, his volumen rose to a point were a low growl started to creep on his throat. At the first sound of it, the soldiers rose their weapons again, "You better explain yourself right now, or else"

"Lance was right! We're gonna die here!" Hunk shrieked.

"Wait! You don't understand!"

"You're intruders in our temple! Liars! What are you doing here!?"

As they started to get more angry, the soldiers slowly reduced the space between them and Allura and Hunk, with their weapons ahead.

"We are not liars!"

"Allura!" Hunk tugged the princess' arm and signaled the wall behind him to her, "The wall is shinning again, do what you did before!"

"I--"

"Just touch it!"

"Wait!!" Rajhet shouted, but his words died in the void, as the light flooded the room again like before.

When Allura and Hunk opened their eyes, the hallway was dark again, the air tainted and they were alone.

"Hunk! Princess! Come in!" Shiro's familiar voice sounded on the other side of the comms.

"Oh thank the stars!" Hunk sighed.

"We are here" Allura responded.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes"

"Alright, Pidge found a way out. Just stay still, we're coming to get you."

"No. Don't worry, we're not moving a finger until you get here" Hunk said, sitting on the floor and leaning away from the wall, looking at it with reticence, "leave alone touching anything"

But Allura was not listening anymore, but thinking about Rahjet's words. Allies to Altea? Like the Galra? And he had recognized her as altean, even though no one had seen one of her species for centuries.

"Here you are" Shiro sighed with relief upon seeing his teammates safe and sound, "What happened? We tried to contact you, but we only got static. Where have you been?"

"I think..." Allura stammered, still in shock by the only explanation her reasoning was giving her "I think we just traveled to the past"

–Chimera.