#and then focus on Becoming that person not Finding that person

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Character Flaws and Their Meanings

Impulsiveness : Acts on instinct without careful planning. Perfectionism : Sets unrealistically high standards, leading to self-criticism. Indecisiveness : Struggles to commit to decisions or choose a path. Arrogance : Overestimates one’s abilities and dismisses others. Pessimism : Habitually expects negative outcomes in most situations. Cynicism : Distrusts the motives and sincerity of others. Overconfidence : Places excessive faith in one’s skills, often underestimating risks. Stubbornness : Resists change and refuses to adapt to new ideas. Jealousy : Feels envious of others' success or possessions. Insecurity : Experiences frequent self-doubt and a lack of confidence. Procrastination : Tends to delay tasks, often leading to missed opportunities. Passivity : Avoids taking initiative and relies on others to act. Aggressiveness : Responds with hostility or force rather than reason. Selfishness : Prioritizes personal gain over the welfare of others. Fragility : Is overly sensitive to criticism and easily discouraged. Egotism : Constantly focuses on oneself and one’s own importance. Defensiveness : Quickly rejects or rationalizes away critique or new information. Manipulativeness : Exploits others to fulfill personal needs or desires. Recklessness : Shows a careless disregard for potential risks or consequences. Resentfulness : Holds lingering bitterness and grudges over perceived wrongs. Distractibility : Finds it hard to maintain focus amid competing interests. Impatience : Lacks the willingness to wait, often spoiling opportunities to learn. Perfunctory : Performs actions in a mechanical, uninspired manner. Self-Doubt : Consistently questions personal abilities and decisions. Arbitraryness : Makes decisions based on whim rather than reason or evidence. Rigidity : Is inflexible and unwilling to consider alternative viewpoints. Gullibility : Trusts too easily, often leading to being misled or deceived. Obsession : Becomes excessively fixated on particular ideas or details. Aloofness : Maintains emotional distance, appearing detached or indifferent. Intolerance : Refuses to accept differing perspectives or lifestyles.

Writing Advice for Brainstorming

Mix genres and time periods: Experiment by combining elements from different eras or genres to create unique settings and narratives.

Use "what if" scenarios: Pose unexpected questions (e.g., What if time travel operated on emotions rather than mechanics?) to spark novel ideas.

Draw from diverse mediums: Engage with art, music, or even scientific papers to inspire unexpected plot twists.

Embrace absurdity: Let illogical or surreal ideas guide you; sometimes the wildest thoughts lead to compelling stories.

Reverse clichés: Identify common tropes in your favorite genres and deliberately invert them to create fresh perspectives.

Incorporate personal anomalies: Transform your idiosyncrasies and personal struggles into rich, multi-dimensional characters.

Use mind-mapping: Visually plot your ideas in a freeform way to uncover hidden connections between disparate elements.

[ekingston]

also on ao3.

So here’s the thing: by the time Lena notices the device taped to the bottom of her credenza—blinking red lights are such a giveaway, you’d think villains would stop using them—she’s already thoroughly done with her day. The only thing that’s kept her upright is the prospect of opening the bottle of Bowmore waiting for her on the top shelf of said credenza, so when the blinking red light turns a solid, menacing sort of yellow and pauses, Lena’s first reaction is less BOMB and more tired resignation.

(The second one is BOMB, because no matter how unimaginative her assassin may be, no matter how many times Lena stares down the barrel of a gun or lurches through the air in a failing aircraft, it isn’t something she’ll ever actually get used to.)

Her reflexes have gotten pretty good. It’s one of the perks of what her therapist has emphatically confirmed qualifies as PTSD. It’s also responsible for the three different avenues of escape Lena has installed around her office. Her reinforced desk now topples on a hinge; good for gunmen and small artillery, but too flimsy for her current predicament. There is a trap door by the couch, but it hasn’t worked properly since the incident with James. Lena’s best bet is the rappel rope outside her balcony. Its harness is based loosely on Lex’s suit design, clasping quickly around the body, but Lena fears she won’t be fast enough. So she tips the desk anyway, on her way out the door.

The hair on her arms picks up the abrupt change in air pressure before her ears register the sound of breaking glass. There’s no time to make sure the harness is locked in place before she jumps, taking her only shot at making it out alive. The way she sees it, there isn’t much difference between being a bloody smear on the wall of her ruined office or on the sidewalk outside her building.

Her descent begins to slow almost immediately, the belay device working to provide her with a survivable landing. Lena breathes out slowly. Another near-miss, she thinks, already schooling her features, ready to shrug it off like the others.

Then there’s a decisive snap.

For a moment, Lena is flying rather than falling. The air around her is like water, and she’s weightless. Even as she drowns in air, gasping for breath as it’s knocked from her lungs, she’s overwhelmed by the feeling that This Is Okay.

(Later, she won’t be able to figure out if it was her fatalistic streak or the strong arms wrapped around her that told her everything was exactly the way it should be.)

Supergirl has her, a blur of red and blue and soft, golden hair. Kara, Lena reminds herself. She’s still struggling to superimpose the two very different women Kara Zor-El once was—were? to her.

They land in an alley just off West Cordova Street. Lena only slowly becomes aware that there’s solid ground beneath her feet, because Kara is still holding on to her. She’s so close Lena can smell the metallic tang of her skin, the one she used to associate with hours spent tinkering in R&D. It represents to her a feeling of potential and contentment and joy, so it suits Kara perfectly, although Lena hasn’t allowed herself to dwell too much on why it does.

“Kara,” Lena says, but Kara interrupts her.

“I would have been too late,” she says, and Lena notes with consternation that Kara’s lip is trembling. Lena probably values her own life less than she should, but dying feels like a much more unfortunate possibility if it means Kara’s face might look the way it does now, and Lena wants to find the person responsible and make them hurt.

She’s feeling a little reckless—as usual after an assassination attempt—and Kara is still holding on to her, looking windswept and distraught. Lena can’t remember the last time someone looked at her with such focus, without even a hint of menace behind it. Before she thinks about it she’s reaching out, fisting a hand in that soft, soft hair, and then there it is—she’s kissing Kara, and it’s a much more uncomplicated, much more straightforward thing than Lena had made it in her head.

And really, Lena should have expected what happens next, because that’s the kind of day it’s been. The paparazzo is not discreet, the wide angle lens glinting in the sunlight at the end of the alley.

When National City’s gossip hounds stop by the newsstand the next morning, they’re intrigued—less by a Luthor and a Super finally locking lips than by what the paparazzo must have told them after she was caught taking their picture. Was it a flattering remark on how good they look together that had made them forgive her for invading their privacy? (They do—expect to see them on next week’s cover, already having been voted National City’s #1 hottest couple.) Was it a particularly bad pun that made Supergirl smile at her like that? (Supposedly Supergirl is a fan of bad puns.) Perhaps, they speculate, the paparazzo possesses some sort of superpower herself; surely nothing less than magic could have turned Lena Luthor’s resigned exasperation into amusement, or Supergirl’s disappointment into genuine glee.

The paparazzo remains anonymous. Only on her private social media does she share that all it had taken was a single phrase—spoken with the breathless reverence only a hopeless sapphic Super-fan could muster—that had made Supergirl turn her attention back to Lena with a questioning smirk and suggest that, if a picture of them kissing was going to be plastered all over the tabloids, it had better be a spectacular kiss.

So it’s funny when the very same words—albeit paraphrased slightly—begin to pop up in every forum where the picture is shared over the following days:

“Damn. You’re going to be personally responsible for both the dramatic death and the ecstatic resurrection of every single lesbian on the planet.”

The original art & caption this is based on.

Written for the multi-fandom flash fiction challenge. Give it a whirl!

[shiyorin]

#Thanks @roroco316, your ideas is the best (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

#When Primarchs send dick pic to you

#Rogal Dorn/Perturabo x F!Reader (Reader is Imperial Agent)

#RIP Reader

#NSFW, non-con, many things

The Imperial Palace on Terra hummed with activity, its gilded halls filled with the usual bustle of servitors, tech-priests, and various officials going about their duties. But deep within its labyrinthine structure, in a secluded chamber reserved for one of the Emperor's sons, something decidedly unusual was taking place.

Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, is very confused. His massive form, usually the picture of stoic control, now radiated an unfamiliar tension. The Primarch's face was flushed, his breathing heavy, and an uncomfortable tightness had taken up residence in his groin.

Dorn growled in frustration, running a hand through his close-cropped white hair. He didn't understand what was happening to him. Was this some new form of xenos attack? An Enemies of the Imperium plot? Whatever it was, it was interfering with his ability to focus on his duties, and that was unacceptable.

As he turned to pace back across the room, Dorn's eyes fell on the data-slate resting on his desk. An idea formed in his mind, one that both excited and confused him. Perhaps if he documented this strange condition, he could better understand and combat it.

With decisive movements, Dorn strode to the desk and picked up the data-slate. He fumbled with the unfamiliar camera function, his large fingers clumsy on the small device. Finally figuring it out, he positioned the slate and began to remove his armor.

As the ceramite plates fell away, Dorn's impressive physique was revealed. Muscles rippled beneath skin marred by countless battle scars, a testament to millennia of warfare. But it was what lay between his legs that truly captured attention.

Dorn's cock stood at full attention, a monument to masculinity that would make even other Primarchs pause. It jutted proudly from a nest of curls, its girth easily as thick as a mortal man's forearm. Veins pulsed along its length, leading to a swollen head that glistened with pre-cum.

The Primarch's face flushed deeper as he aimed the data-slate's camera at his engorged member. He felt ridiculous, like some kind of deviant, but the urge to capture this moment was overwhelming. With a grunt of determination, Dorn snapped the picture.

Staring at the image on the screen, Dorn felt a mix of embarrassment and... pride? Yes, there was definitely a part of him that was pleased with what he saw. But what to do with it now?

Again, an inexplicable urge seized him. Before he could second-guess himself, Dorn's fingers were flying over the data-slate's interface, sending the image to the one person he felt might be able to help him make sense of this situation: you, the Imperial Agent he'd worked with on several classified missions.

As soon as the image was sent, a wave of mortification washed over Dorn. What had he done? This was completely inappropriate behavior for a Primarch! He needed to explain himself, to provide context for this madness.

Dorn began typing out a message to accompany the image:

"Dear Agent,

I find myself experiencing an unusual physiological response. My genitals have become engorged and I feel an overwhelming urge for physical contact. I believe the most efficient course of action would be for us to engage in sexual intercourse. Please prepare yourself, as I will be arriving at your quarters shortly to address this situation.

Regards, Rogal Dorn"

Satisfied that he had explained himself clearly and concisely, Dorn hit send. He then began to reassemble his armor, his movements hurried and clumsy in his eagerness to reach your quarters.

Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, you were reviewing reports when your data-slate chimed with an incoming message. Expecting more mission briefings, you casually glanced at the screen - and nearly dropped the device in shock.

There, filling your entire display, was the most impressive cock you'd ever laid eyes on. Your mouth went dry as you took in its massive size, the way it curved slightly upward, the prominent veins that promised to make you feel every inch when it was buried inside you...

You shook your head, trying to clear the sudden fog of lust that had descended. Who in the Emperor's name would send you such a thing? Your question was answered moments later as a text message popped up.

As you read Rogal Dorn's blunt, matter-of-fact explanation, your eyes widened in disbelief. "???" you muttered, re-reading the message to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Rogal Dorn, the Praetorian of Terra, had just sent you a dick pic and was now on his way to fuck you?

Before you could fully process this turn of events, a thunderous knock echoed through your quarters. Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized Dorn hadn't been exaggerating about coming right away.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down your uniform and went to answer the door. It slid open to reveal the towering form of Rogal Dorn, but your eyes were immediately drawn lower, to the massive bulge straining against the Primarch's codpiece.

"Agent," Dorn rumbled, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "I trust you received my message and are prepared to assist me with this... situation."

You swallowed hard, your gaze alternating between Dorn's intense eyes and the promise of what lay beneath his clothes. "I... yes, my lord. Please, come in."

As Dorn ducked through the doorway, the full impact of his size hit you anew. He was easily twice your height, his broad shoulders nearly brushing both sides of the entrance. The thought of taking his cock - that magnificent beast you'd seen in the picture, made you clench in both fear and anticipation.

'Oh Throne,' you thought, a mix of panic and arousal coursing through you. 'If he puts that thing inside me, I might actually die.'

But as Dorn began to remove his clothes once more, revealing inch after glorious inch of sculpted muscle, you found yourself thinking that there were far worse ways to go.

The Primarch's cock sprang free, even more impressive in person than it had been in the picture. Pre-cum beaded at its tip, and you had to resist the fear when you saw it.

Dorn's eyes raked over your form, dark with a feeling he didn't fully understand. "I find myself... eager to proceed," he said, his usual eloquence deserting him in the face of his overwhelming need. "How shall we begin?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was sure to be the ride of your life. "My lord," you said, your voice suppressed the trembling "why don't you start by showing me exactly what that cock of yours can do?"

A rare smile tugged at the corners of Dorn's mouth as he advanced on you, his massive erection leading the way. "With pleasure, Agent."

As Dorn's large hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly, you sent up a silent prayer to the Emperor. May the Emperor protect you.

*****

Perturabo, the Primarch of Iron Warriors, was in a foul mood. His massive form paced the confines of his private chambers, tension radiating from every inch of his superhuman body. But this wasn't his usual anger, no, this was something far more primal and embarrassing.

He was horny. Painfully, achingly horny.

The Primarch growled in frustration, his hand unconsciously drifting to the impressive bulge in his armor. He hated this weakness, this base desire that clouded his thoughts and distracted him from his grand designs. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the burning need that consumed him.

With defeat, Perturabo began to remove his armor, piece by piece. As the last ceramite plate clattered to the floor, he stood naked, his massive cock jutting proudly.

Perturabo's dick was a thing of beauty - if one appreciated monstrous, superhuman genitalia. It stood at an impressive 10 inches when fully erect, thick as a mortal man's wrist, with prominent veins running along its length. The head was a deep, angry purple, already glistening with pre-cum.

Despite his self-loathing, Perturabo couldn't resist wrapping a hand around his throbbing member. He stroked himself slowly, a low groan escaping his lips at the sensation. His other hand reached down to cup his heavy balls.

As he pleasured himself, Perturabo's thoughts drifted to you, the Imperial Agent who had been a thorn in his side. Your fierce intelligence, your unwavering loyalty to the Imperium, your lithe body that he longed to break…

Before he could stop himself, Perturabo grabbed his data-slate. With one hand still working his cock, he snapped a picture of his erect member. The image was intimidating, his massive hand wrap around the shaft, veins bulging, pre-cum dripping from the tip.

Without allowing himself to second-guess, Perturabo sent the image to your personal vox channel.

Instant regret flooded him the moment he hit 'send.' What in the name of the Warp was he thinking? He was a Primarch, a demigod of war, not some pervert sending dick pics!

Frantically, Perturabo tried to recall the message. To his immense relief, the system informed him that the image had been successfully retrieved before you could view it. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

'You definitely hadn't seen it,' Perturabo thought, a mix of relief and... disappointment? washing over him. How dare you not witness it? The audacity!

Meanwhile, in your quarters aboard an Imperial vessel, you were having a mild panic attack. You had indeed seen the image before it was retrieved, how could you not notice a message from a Primarch? And now you were sweating bullets.

Your hands shook as you typed out a quick response: "Lord Perturabo, I didn't see anything in your last message. Was there something you needed to communicate?"

You hit send and immediately regretted it. What if he took offense? What if he thought you were lying? Oh Emperor, you were so screwed.

Back in his chambers, Perturabo read your message with growing anger. You had seen it. You must have. And now you dared to lie to him? To a Primarch?

With a growl of frustration, Perturabo typed out a scathing reply: "Do not attempt to deceive me, Agent. I know you saw the image. Your dishonesty only compounds your offense."

And then, driven by a mixture of anger, lust, and wounded pride, he reattached the photo of his erect cock to the message and sent it again.

Your eyes widened in shock as your data-slate pinged with a new message. You opened it, praying to every saint you could think of that it wasn't what you feared.

Your prayers went unanswered.

There, filling your screen, was Perturabo's massive member in all its glory. You felt your mouth go dry as you took in the sheer size of it. How was that even possible? It had to be as thick as your forearm!

Despite your fear, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal. You quickly shook your head, trying to dispel such dangerous thoughts. This was Perturabo, for Terra's sake! He'd crush you like a bug if he ever got his hands on you.

With trembling fingers, you typed out another response: "My Lord, I assure you I didn't see anything in your previous message. I would never lie to you."

You hit send and immediately curled into a ball on your bed, praying for a quick and painless death.

Perturabo read your latest message with growing fury. How dare you continue this charade? Did you think him a fool?

"Enough of your lies!" he typed back, his fingers nearly cracking the data-slate's screen. "You will cease this deception immediately, or I will show you the consequences of toying with a Primarch in person."

As he sent the message, a new idea formed in Perturabo's mind. If you insisted on playing dumb, perhaps it was time for a more... hands-on approach to communication.

With a few quick commands, Perturabo accessed the ship's systems. He located your quarters and activated the emergency teleportation protocols. In a flash of blue light, he materialized in your room, still gloriously naked and fully erect.

You screamed in surprise and terror as the massive form of Perturabo appeared before you. You scrambled backwards on your bed, eyes wide as saucers as you took in the Primarch in all his naked glory.

"L-Lord Perturabo!" you stammered, trying desperately to look anywhere but at his imposing erection. "I-I don't understand-"

"Silence!" Perturabo roared, his voice shaking the walls. He stalked towards the bed, his cock bobbing with each step. "You claim you saw nothing? Then allow me to give you a proper view."

Before you could react, Perturabo grabbed your ankle and dragged you to the edge of the bed. He loomed over you, his massive frame blocking out the light, his cock mere inches from your face.

"Look at it," he growled, his voice a mixture of anger and lust. "Look at what you've done to me, you infuriating woman."

You couldn't help but obey. Your eyes locked onto Perturabo's member, taking in every vein, every twitch, the bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. You swallowed hard, a confusing mix of fear and arousal coursing through you.

"I... I see it, my Lord," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Perturabo's hand shot out, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "And what do you think of it, little agent? Does it please you? Does it terrify you?"

Your mind raced, searching for the right answer. What could you possibly say that wouldn't result in your immediate demise?

"It's... impressive, my Lord," you finally managed, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Truly befitting a Primarch."

A slow smile spread across Perturabo's face. "Good answer," he purred. "Now, since you've finally admitted to seeing it, I think it's time we put it to proper use, don't you?"

As Perturabo's free hand began to tear at your clothes, you realized that your earlier fears had been misplaced. You weren't going to die today….

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Excuse me, if it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could give me some tips or teach me how to introduce myself as an author? I have a serious doubt about how to start this since I'm new to this.

Writing Notes: Author Profile

Professional Bio - (short for professional biography) is a summary of your background, including details like work experience and education.

Serves to introduce you to the reader, usually to establish your credibility and forge a personal connection, like a mini-cover letter.

You can use a professional bio across many mediums, from social media profiles to resumes to blog footers.

They can range from a few sentences to a few paragraphs in length.

How to Write a Professional Bio

Whether you’re applying for new jobs or making a website for your small business, you don’t have to follow a template to write a compelling professional bio. Here is a quick guide to help you in the crafting process:

Determine the purpose. To write a stellar bio, you’ll need to know the exact reason you’re writing it. Identify your target audience and desired outcome. Knowing your bio’s purpose will help you determine its length, necessary components to feature, the ideal point of view (e.g., first person or third person), and tone.

Tailor it to your needs. You can include a short, memorable bio in your portfolio materials, along with any credentials that show recruiters you are a great employee. When crafting a bio for work purposes, writing in the third-person perspective is optimal to help you stand out to hiring managers. You can also include a brief bio on your personal website’s “about page,” which can tell your story and show that you’re capable of serving your customers. This type of bio can help you form a confident, personal connection with your potential clients and is often written in a first-person perspective to sound more personable.

Begin with the most important information. Identify the most important information and include it in the first sentence of your bio. Usually, the first sentence of a professional bio will consist of your full name, your current position, and length of service in the role. Try to keep this sentence clear and concise so that it serves as a clear hook—a long, wordy, opening sentence can run the risk of confusing or losing your readers’ attention.

Add in previous professional experience. Once you state the most important information, add a few more details about your professional background—for instance, previous work experience, job titles, professional accomplishments, schooling, or technical credentials. Keep this section focused and specific (for example, limit yourself to two or three bullet points of personal achievements), or it may seem too braggadocious. If you don’t have a lot of previous experience yet, mention a specific detail or two that shows your capabilities within the field.

Include personal details about your life. Your bio can include information outside of your personal work history. Some people list hobbies, personal interests, fun facts, or pets in their bios to show their personality.

Tips for Writing a Professional Bio

When writing your bio, here are a few tips to keep in mind:

Focus on vital information. The best bios include essential and interesting information. A biography weighed down by extraneous details can become dull or bury critical details. Your bio’s optimal length will depend on its purpose, so consider that before you begin the writing process.

Consider adding links or handles. In situations where you want readers to find you online or contact you, consider adding links for your website or professional social media pages at the bottom of your bio. Linking is especially common in biographies that accompany a writer’s byline on an online blog post.

Maintain a few different bios. Maintain a few different versions of your bio ensures that you’re ready for any situation that requires one. A three-sentence professional bio, a casual or humorous bio, and a more extended bio are all good options to have on-hand.

Profile - a written portrait of a person.

Often, a profile is published as a narrative non-fiction article in a newspaper, magazine, or website.

The story is based on facts discovered through research as well as interviews with the subject and their friends, family, or professional associates.

A profile piece is meant to be informative. It is a portrait of the person through a combination of stories, quotes, and photographs.

Tips for Writing a Profile of a Person

Capturing the essence of a person through words takes good observation and writing skills. Follow these 10 tips to learn how to write a profile:

Read other profiles. To know how to write a profile essay, read how other writers do it. Find feature profiles in the New Yorker. You can also find personality profiles throughout The New York Times, particularly in the Sunday edition of the paper. Look for what information the writer presents about their subject. At the end of the piece, see if you have any lingering questions about the person to make sure you fill those gaps in your own story.

Do your prep work. When you know who the subject of your piece is, start doing some prep work. Research the person. If they’re well-known, it will be easy to find information online. It’s important to use reputable websites in order to find accurate information—this will also save you effort when you or an editor fact-check the article before it’s published. The second part of your prep work will be writing out the questions you want to ask your subject. After doing your research and have read other articles, ask questions other writers haven’t asked yet.

Create an outline. Before you get started, create an outline for your story. Use bullet points to highlight the main points you want to make in your article. You should also figure out the angle of your story. When a journalist writes a story, they have some kind of news angle to their piece—a focus that pulls the article together. This will help you determine what information you need to find out from your subject.

Interview your subject. When you write a profile, you’ll meet with your subject and interview them at least once but usually several times for a big feature story. Be prepared with your questions but also be ready to follow the natural flow of the conversation. Ask questions during your meeting that you think readers will want to know. Pose questions that will encourage your subject to tell a story. Ask them to share anecdotes. Avoid yes or no questions. You want them to open up. Make sure to record and transcribe the entire interview. As you review their answers on paper or on your computer, highlight the best quotes.

Observe your subject in their environment. When you’re writing a profile of somebody, you need to spend time with them on their turf. Your profile piece should capture them in their environment and allow readers to see their world. If you’re writing about a musician, you might meet them at home but also go to the studio with them to watch how they compose a song. Make several trips to become acquainted with your subject—it might take a lot of time for them to let their guard down and be themselves around you.

Start with a strong lede. As you gather your information and write your profile, you must start strong. Your opening line and paragraph, otherwise known as your lede, needs to capture the reader’s attention. You’re setting the scene for your article and creating a first impression of this person, so make sure you hook your readers from the start.

Incorporate direct quotes. While you’re crafting this piece with your own words, you need to show your subject’s point of view. Quote them extensively in this piece. As a general rule of thumb, try to use a few quotes for every topic you cover in the profile. It can be a good idea to let your subject have the last word and end with a quote. On top of the subject’s quotes, you’ll be interviewing others who know this person, like friends, family, and associates. Their stories can contribute interesting information to your piece.

Tell a story. Like any other piece you write, good profiles have a beginning, middle, and end. Use a narrative writing style. Use descriptive language. Your subject is your main character, so develop them for your reader. Include any interesting tidbits and background information about their life, like obstacles they’ve overcome. This will help illustrate what motivates them.

Reveal new information. Write a unique, great profile that gives the reader fascinating takeaways about the person. If you’re writing about someone famous, they’ve most likely been interviewed before. Find additional information that hasn’t been published that makes them more compelling to your readers and gives your story a unique approach. If you’ve crafted great questions, you’ll be able to uncover fascinating information about your subject’s life.

Show, don’t tell. Many profile articles will include the writer’s experience of meeting their subject and conducting the interview. In that case, you’ll write the story in first person, including yourself in the narrative. Describe the experience using sensory details of the person and their environment. Capture what the person is like in real life to let readers feel like they know this person.

Examples of a Professional Bio

Here are a few short professional bio examples that work to establish the writer’s credentials and paint a picture of their professional identity:

Marketing bio: Sylvia Johnson has served as the director of marketing at Hardy & Jones International for four years. Previously, she ran the communications department at Marketing Incorporated and coordinated a team of copywriters at The ABC-Scribe Organization. She has a master’s degree in business administration from Great University and still cheers on its basketball team. In her free time, she enjoys hiking and photography.

Arts and entertainment bio: Adam O’Hare has a bachelor’s degree in art history from Great University. During his studies, he completed a one-year internship at the Museum of Art, where he led guided tours and spent time designing an all-new organization system for the archives. When he’s not enjoying works of art, you can find him at home spending time with his two dogs, Rembrandt and Picasso. Adam can be reached at ______________.com.

Entrepreneur bio: My name is Rachel Smith, and when I was four years old, my mother found me sneaking Brie cheese out of the fridge—it’s safe to say that I’ve always been passionate about good food. I went on to work as a sous chef in several Houston-area restaurants before getting my master’s degree in food science. After many years of cooking and eating in the city, I became frustrated that there wasn’t a reliable place to shop for high-quality ingredients near my home. That’s why I founded Rachel’s Food Company, an organization dedicated to helping you find the top-shelf ingredients you need in the kitchen.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, this is perfectly fine! Here are some tips and notes from a couple of sources I found. So it depends on where you're posting/using your author introduction to help you determine how formal you want to be, what types of information you'll include etc. Definitely look at examples of your favourite writers' own author profiles as well to give you more ideas. All the best with creating your intro!

[just-sg]

You can enjoy media in spite of parts you hate. "I really wish [game] didn't [do X], but the story overall is great and the gameplay is really engaging."

You can enjoy media that disappointed you. "I hoped they would handle the [X] plotline better, but I guess it wasn't a dealbreaker." "I had hope for a while my ship would become canon, and feel kind of cheated that it didn't, but my irritation at that specific part doesn't ruin the entire series for me." or "I wish they dealt with the actual implications and ramifications of this thing that could have been a serious topic, but I understand the focus was on other things."

You can enjoy fictional events that you would find reprehensible in real life, in the same way one might be fascinated by a trainwreck. "Oh yeah all these characters are fucking awful people. It's horrifying. Anyway which war criminal is your favorite?"

You can enjoy media, especially games, as a venting outlet. This is not limited to FPS games or stuff like GTA, though it's always been wild to me that murder is one of the most easily accepted "it's just fiction" crimes. Sometimes ripping through countless fictional characters is actively helpful for staying calm and being nice to real people.

You can write and roleplay and consume stories that deal with horrible topics as cautionary tales. Sometimes it's specifically discouraging people. Which do you think is more effective: a story showing the brutal downfall of a fictional drug addict who slowly destroys their own life, or a stand-alone poster that says "Don't do drugs"? On the flip side, which makes for a more engaging longterm story: the brutal downfall or a wholesome story of someone going through rehab and never struggling with their recovery? For that matter, which is most likely to elicit sympathy for real life struggles?

You can enjoy stuff in an escapist way or for personal comfort. "This isn't how it works in real life, and I understand that pretending it did would be neglectful/harmful or at least risky in a real situation. However, in my little fantasy, what if it didn't suck actually?" (Ex: No Disney Princess Movies aren't problematic for failing to talk about the power imbalance between the royal and the commoner, etc.)

That's not to say "it's just fiction" can't go too far. Is it genuinely advocating for something? (Not just talking about it At All.) Is it being presented in a way that's insensitive to its audience? Is it pushing harmful stereotypes? In an RP or video game with other players, is it ignoring their feelings and boundaries? Ask questions like that instead of assuming the worst of everyone at all times.

This isn't really about tabletop RPGs as such, but it is about a topic I've seen floating around recently in the RPG space, that of moral purity in what you enjoy.

There seems to be this idea that if the things you enjoy aren't morally pure, that somehow reflects poorly on you. So you need to twist your brain into a pretzel to make the movies you watch or the games you play sufficiently progressive or reflective of your identity or else your enjoyment of them is somehow not valid or makes you a bad person.

So let me say this as an anarchist who believes that ACAB isn't just a means of transportation: I love shows like Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger and Kamen Rider Drive, and my favourite Sierra adventure game series is Police Quest. And those are absolutely all copaganda.

And how does that reflect morally on me? I no way whatsoever.

None of them are queer, either, and that doesn't make me any less so.

I hope I've helped some of you feel less weird about enjoying what you enjoy.

[jaspercafe]

FIVE for Silver (AO3)

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Words: 1250

Rating: General Audiences

He sits her down on the chaise, rummaging through each drawer in her chambers for whatever he can find — linen straps, bandages, elfroot — anything to make the bleeding stop.

But she can barely register him, her focus fixed on her arms — on the blood painting her skin like red ink, telling a story she’s so tired of reading.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And five.

Five more scars to add to her collection — each one proof she’s survived, but never proof of the fight actually being over.

She doesn’t know why that stings as much as it does. Fighting isn’t new to her — how could it be? She lives in a world of dragons and demons, cultists and dictators, each one clawing for more power than they have any right to.

The Shadows taught her early on that the moment she stops fighting is the moment she hands her power over to someone else.

And like hell she’s going to do that.

Yet, as she watches Lucanis frantically wipe the blood from her wounds — as if he can erase them, as if they won’t still be there in the morning, or next month, faded but never gone — a thought slips through the cracks. One she’s tried to drown out, to chase away, only for it to return more determined, curling around her mind like smoke, whispering itself back into existence until she has no choice but to listen.

What if she does stop?

What if she puts her sword down for the last time?

Maybe then, she’d remember what her skin looks like beneath the wounds, before they piled up like trinkets in a collection she never wanted.

Maybe she could wash her hair without watching the water swirl red at her feet.

Maybe her shoulders wouldn’t ache with the phantom weight of a shield she no longer feels strong enough to carry.

Maybe, just maybe, she could remember what it feels like to be beautiful again.

—

Lucanis feels something fall onto his hands as he sterilizes Rook’s arms.

A wet droplet.

Then another.

And another.

Until the storm that’s been brewing finally unleashes, the tears streaming down her face like a heavy rainfall.

He reaches for her, the vial of antiseptic in his grasp tumbling to the floor as he trades it for her face, cupping her cheeks and forcing her watery gaze on his.

“Rook,” he pleads, brushing away each tear with his thumb. “Talk to me.”

“Is this all that’s left?”

Lucanis’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

She gestures to herself, a hollow laugh escaping her. “Is this all I am now? Blood and dirt, scars and bruises. Is there anything left of the person I used to be — before Solas’ ritual, before Varric, hell, even before the Shadows. Is she still there?”

“Of course she is, Rook,” Lucanis replies immediately, his hands falling from her face to wrap around her fingers.

"I don’t know about that," she replies, her eyes squeezing shut. “That girl used to wear dresses, not armor. She used to wear necklaces, not bruises leftover from Antaam hands wrapped around her throat too tightly."

“Your life does not have to end where the fight begins," Lucanis counters. "You can still have what you once craved — the things that remind you of who you were, before this all began."

"Those things are a luxury," she mutters, bitterness curling around the words. "And luxuries aren’t meant for people like me."

Lucanis studies her, his jaw tightening.

No.

He refuses to let her believe that.

She’s the one who showed him there’s more to life than killing and death. That life can be as sweet as it is bitter.

She’s the one who taught him that feelings don’t always have to be filed into the shape of a weapon — that they can be raw, boundless, like an ocean drenching him from head to toe. That she could be the harbor that offers him safe refuge when that ocean becomes too overwhelming.

She’s the one who defied the odds when they were never in her favor, who made him dare to hope, even when he was taught that hope was just another hole in his walls for enemies to exploit.

And now, the woman who shattered every rigid belief he held — about life, about himself — wants to reduce herself to nothing more than her scars.

No. He won’t let her.

“Stay here,” he instructs, pushing himself off the chaise. “I will be back soon.”

And before she can question it, he’s heading for the door, a new resolve in his eyes as he makes his way to the Eluvian leading to Treviso.

—

When he returns, he’s relieved to find her still in her chambers, swiping away stray tears as she hears him enter.

“Lucanis,” she whispers. “Where did you go?”

Wordlessly, he takes her hand, threading his fingers through hers as he guides her to the far end of the room, where a floor-length mirror leans against the wall.

He grabs her hips, shifting her body to align her with her reflection.

“Keep your eyes forward,” he murmurs, slipping a hand into his pocket. When he withdraws it, a silver gleam catches the low light.

He moves behind her, his fingers brushing aside her curls, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. Slowly, he presses his lips to the skin beneath her ear. Then, along her jawline. The soft dip of her throat. And finally, one last kiss to the juncture of her shoulder — a kiss that lingers, like the final, drawn-out note of a love song.

She's so lost in his touch that she barely notices when his lips leave her, until, suddenly, something cold slithers over her neck, replacing his warmth.

Her breath catches.

A silver necklace.

“Most people see silver and think of nobility — kings, queens, emperors,” he murmurs, securing the clasp. “But the ones most worthy of silver are those forged like it — tempered by fire, bent, beaten, but never broken.”

His arms slip around her waist. “Like you.”

She stares into the mirror, her reflection blurred by unshed tears. Her fingers brush the metal, her lips parting softly.

How long has it been since silver touched her skin?

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, turning in his arms to face him.

Lucanis shakes his head, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet sincerity — like he’s trying to will the truth into her bones. “You’re beautiful. You always have been, and you always will be. Nothing in this world can take that away from you."

Something inside her gives way. A dam breaking, a tether snapping. She surges forward, her lips colliding with his, her hands tangling into his hair.

Words aren’t enough. They could never hold everything she feels for him — all her love, all her gratitude — but maybe a kiss can breach the surface.

He doesn't hesitate to kiss her back, his tongue brushing hers softly, his hands fisting into the fabric at her back as if he can pull her into him entirely. Each kiss grows longer, deeper, and he savors them like the first taste of Antivan coffee after a long, sleepless night — until they're breathless, forced to breathe the air of the Lighthouse instead of the breath in each other's lungs.

When they finally part, she presses her forehead to his, her next words exhaled like a prayer. “Thank you, Lucanis.”

He runs his thumb over the silver resting at her collarbone. "For you, anything."

—

A/N: This was written as part of the Counting Crows collab on the Lucanismancer Discord! Please check out the rest of the series, as each of these authors is incredibly talented! <3

[wellthatsclever]

.

[decarbry]

[bixels]

I wanna get around to doing some small story beats for the "Main Six Takes Manhattan" story. It'd be a good chance for me to play around with different art styles too.

I'm really excited about this story too because it'd be splitting everyone up into pairs for their own little arc.

Rarity attends a fashion showcase in upper Manhattan, with April-Jacqueline in tow as her "attendant." The two get swept up in industry drama as they uncover the abuse faced by amateur designer Carol Cho under the American fashion house "Polomare."

Pinkie and Thea head to Harlem for a rent party, hosted by Thea's city friends. Despite Thea's protestations, Pinkie can't help but be the life of the party as its tenants and musicians attempt to raise enough money to fight their landlords and demand housing justice.

Dash and Félicie navigate NYC's transportation system to go to a ball game: the New York Wonderbolts vs. the Washington Senators. While Dash meets her heroes, Félicie can't help but feel homesick and smothered by the big city.

[plushie-lovey]

FINALLY!! At long last, I've gotten my hands on a Pumpkin Kitty, after a whole year of wanting and waiting.

Her name is Latte! (Short for Miss Pumpkin Spice Latte) You can also call her Miss Spice!

[wardensantoineandevka]

you're really annoying but in, like, a refreshing way?

I'm sincerely flattered, anon. I worked very hard to become really annoying. 💞✌️

[bastart13]

I caved and read Remarried Empress because of your post and honestly I strongly agree that the fandom is very nasty towards Rashta. I mean yeah, the story is very much set up to frame her as a villain no matter what she does since the Empress is the main character, but I feel like Rashta also has some strong points as a character and she's reacting like anyone would to some of the offences she receives from the Empress (imo the story rationalizes why Navier is mean towards Rashta a bit too much for my liking). Idk, I know it's popular to pit women against each other in romance stories so there's a scapegoat, but it's a bit infuriating when most of the fandom demonizes Rashta when she's literally just a gal who's out of her depth.

I am in desperate need for a story along these lines where you can have women in opposition to each other but neither are demonised. Please... I just want a story with flawed women who the fandom appreciates for their complexity....

I've said it in the comments of another post, but it always bears repeating that Rashta was born a slave! Slavery is one of the greater evils of society! She was physically and mentally scarred, sexually abused, had her baby stolen from her, and hounded by her slaver even after gaining freedom! Of course, she's doing everything she can not to go back to that! Like, I know suffering doesn't automatically justify your actions, but y'know, I don't blame her for trying to win the protection and love of literally the most powerful person in the country.

Navier has every right not to like Rashta, but dear god, the fact that slavery exists while she's the Empress is not a good look for her, and Navier is my favourite character!

If the author really wanted a story about a manipulative homewrecker getting her just deserts, she should have been anything other than a former slave. Otherwise, you need to treat both Navier and Rashta as two sympathetic characters in a morally-grey conflict.

In the end, Soveishu is the villain of The Remarried Empress. He refuses to tell Navier he thinks she's infertile. He refuses to tell her he loves her romantically and wants that relationship. He refuses to understand Navier's situation, and he puts Rashta in danger without care, abandoning her the moment his ploy to make Navier jealous blows up in his face. Unlike Rashta, he doesn't have any sympathetic motivation to justify his actions. He just wants Navier to be his obedient wife, accepting whatever he does without respecting her intelligence by talking to her. Soveishu is not treated like a good person, but frankly, the narrative doesn't treat him like the central antagonist he is. No, that spot goes to Rashta because she's a homewrecking harlot who's too poor to belong in high society, despite everything to the contrary.

[mistress-light]

I'm currently reading: Strengths Finder 2.0. I'm not far into yet, but the first pages were so.... good to read? And true? The fact that most of us spend so much time working on the things we don't excel in? At school or work, instead of spending more time on the things we are good at and becoming even better at that.

[swiss-army-fangirl]

.

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[taeyungie]

😺