#if you like how i write mystery but wish that i would write second drafts of anything to fill random little plot holes you'd love this VN

[openphrase123]

ALSO!!!! no inutile today. i apologize. realistically i might tone down updates for it to every other week unless i finish the whole thing in backlog early just because i'm trying to meet some original project deadlines (visual novel pitch demo needs to be done by the 30th and if my cowriters pick it up then lots of energy will end up going into it... which also means the farming sim will be on the backburner but that might be better so i can cut my teeth on game production on something that isn't as intense)

[acid-ixx]

They aren't finished but I wanted to give you these! They're all WIPS so so far. Some are a bit older and you can tell what the newer ones are that I just made right now.

Thank you for posting a new chapter. It was an amazing read and I just loved it so much! Still trying to find those song references 😂

chapter spoilers and drafts (again &. again)

— masterlist ! ; chapter 4 ; ash's commisions

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A BLESSING??? BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER I SWEAR 💞

ash, you have always provided my little fanbase for my series so much food for thought, this is absolutely beautiful in every way. i literally don't care if they're wips or unfinished because either way you always make do with what i write, descriptive or not. i love your artstyle and how soft you draw the mc and how handsome conner is (i literally showed your art off to all my friends). you're so talented and i wish to reciprocate all the efforts you've done for this series 😭

i'm serious. from your portrayal of the mc, to them flying with conner, you never once disappoint anyone.

because of this, i'd like to leak some parts of my story from chapter five and beyond 💕! thank you so much for this, and i hope my yapping below suffices.

major spoilers below the cut!

the graduation photo! i have something planned with that, and i'd delve so much deeper (soon) with just how much a single photo can influence bruce's line of thought once he discovers that picture frame. love how happy mc is in the photo because, for me, it symbolizes them growing up (quite literally) and acknowledging a new path in life, alongside only finding alfred as their only father figure compared to bruce.

you consider yourself reserved, and prefer your life living within the confines of privacy and protection from media exposure. your mother always told you: better safe than sorry once; right after you've asked her about why you can't seem to find personal information about your father when she helped you search him up occasionally.

all the questions you ask her about the lack of your father's preferences — because you merely wanted to know more about him beyond the stories she told you! — she rebutted with a soft smile, a kiss on your head, and an explanation.

she'd warn you about the dangers of media exposure, about how your father and her prefer to keep their relationship a secret, and how too much cameras and paparazzi flashes can blind you.

she said that someone's perception of another person could be ruined once their deepest secrets are revealed. that's why your papa isn't seen beyond the doors of the manor he resides in; because people are attracted to mystery and allure.

hence why she'd restricted you from the usage of any devices within your household during your childhood, other than the excuse of having no money to afford it.

and you always abide by that principle of secrecy; especially right after alfred had saved you from... whatever happened years ago in elementary. from when that man... no, those men knew about your identity...

so, safe to say you were an introvert, at least when it comes to social media. the concept of the fear of missing out never once rattled your brain, no matter how anxious you are whenever you're with your friends; scared that you wouldn't fit in. but they never cared and accepted you with open arms, so it doesn't really matter, no?

you're safe now that you're at metropolis.

and like she always said, better safe than sorry! keep it within you and never out!

so why?

why is it just right after you've opened your twitter app— why is it that your face is plastered all across news accounts?

anyways, the second and third images are so romantic!!! and cute, and cured my depression i swear. i showed this to my one friend and she told me that conner's hand size compared to mc's is straight up hot, and i agree! i love the hand placement, and the way conner holds the mc so softly! yes, i too, would love to touch his man-tits beyond his impeccably tight shirt and play with his hands!

and the cute little panel with him squishing their face and desire their confirmation that, they do, in fact, think they're hot. he's a very insecure man after all, and his self-worth would revolve around your perception of him. he doesn't see you as god, but he doesnt see you as his everything. every opinion matters from you, and that's what makes the green flag part about him.

fun fact about him in the series! he loves to moisturize his hands with lots of skin care products because he read from an article once that some people prefer the feel of soft or moisturized hands. he definitely did not wait for the moment for you to touch him for the first time in forever since he first saw you! yeah, he's a bit more freaky than i let him out to be. the more you're exposed to him, the more you'll learn just how obsessed he is.

as for all the people asking if i'd write more about him: the answer is yes! he's a vital character, so don't worry because he'll appear in many scenes either way. for those concerned about why he didn't save the mc— well, chapter five will explain soon 🩷

and this art perfectly portrays it! it's seen from an outside perspective and they look very pretty, yet from what they see with their eyes is a different thing. the longer you stare at yourself, the more your image is distorted. i intentionally added the flower analogy because flowers are portrayed as pretty, no matter the size and shape. even as they wilt or sag, they still retain some color and a semblance of what was once a history of their prime.

then lastly! the mirror scene. it all returns to chapter three, chapter four was a sequel of their breakdown containing mirrors. reflections and the perception of one self is an important aspect of my series because it reminds me of myself, so them nit-picking each and every insecurity whilst staring at the mirror; that's a scene i wrote based off of a real life experience of mine. having both attractive parents, or those acknowledged as conventionally pretty, whilst being in an environment filled with as equally smart or attractive people, comparing yourself to them all the time, is a struggle.

the only way to make flowers 'ugly' is by destroying them, by stepping on them, ripping them apart, never once caring for them. i think that's very crucial because people do see anything destroyed or stripped away from its foundation a mess, or so. but there's always beauty in everything and i abide by that thought!

again, thank you so much ash for drawing this and bringing my story to life! you, alongside many other users who send in their fanarts, are always such an inspiration for me to write! you guys are the backbone of my series and i stand by my sentence!!! may you get plenty of commissions and plenty of money to support you <333

also, the FLOWER BOTTLE AND THE CAT PAW REFERENCE! i love how everyone accepts that we have a canon cat now based solely off of this. i think that's precious, and having a feline pet is a great little choice for my own plot (just to lessen the pain of the angst).

i hope you enjoyed this little mess rant!

(as for the songs, don't worry, the lyrics become more prevalent for chapter five! chapter four doesn't have any explicit lyrics contained in them, only implications.)

[blakelysco-pilot]

All Of Me

From the Love Letters Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

Jo struggles with her response to Rosie's first letter but later finds help in an unlikely friend with shared common ground. It's his second letter back-to-back, however, that stacks her worry like wobbly apple crates, ready to tumble at a moment's notice.

Read part 2 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

October 1943

My Dearest Robbie, 

Today is Halloween, so it would be remiss of me not to wish you a Happy one. I know you won’t be celebrating; not that we are either, but it’s still heartwarming to see some of the littles in the neighborhood running up and down the streets looking for sweets. I’m saving a Hershey bar for when you’re back, so that we can share it like we always do. The leaves have all turned by now, and Prospect Park is a beautiful shade of golden hues. I’ve taken to walking with your sister, as it fills a small void in my days. She’s excellent company, and somehow always has some local gossip at the ready for when I need cheering up. I couldn’t help myself and told her the story of your bicycling disaster. Please don’t be too mad at me. I hope that by now, you’ve learned to ride a bike properly, and that poor Pappy hasn’t had to fish you out of any more ditches. Please thank him for me, because I don’t know what I would have done if he had not been there to rescue you.

If I know you at all, I know that you’ve been hemming and hawing over the weather over there, but the longer it rains in England, the better I feel knowing you’re on solid ground. I’m glad to know you’re able to find some respite in the Officers Club, even if it’s just some jazz records and mediocre scotch. Good company can make all the difference and it warms my heart to know you have that in your crew and fellow officers. I’m putting my bet in now on Nash and the Red Cross girl. Having someone is important, so if he finds that in her, I’m glad for them both. Tell Pappy not to be so pessimistic though, I’m sure Nash will make her very happy. 

Speaking of having someone waiting, I paid a visit to Harry Crosby’s wife, Jean. I thought she could use a friend, so we spent an afternoon in the city, having lunch and doing some shopping. It’s lonely enough moving to a new city, but with her husband overseas, I can’t imagine how she feels. I know how I feel waiting for you, and so she must feel it tenfold. With the holidays approaching, I’ve invited her to spend Thanksgiving with us. I couldn’t bear the idea of her spending it alone. She’s a darling woman, and I agree, we will have to double with her and Harry once you’re both home. 

Sweetheart, how you could ever think that I will not worry about you while you’re over there, is a mystery. I will worry, and miss you, every single day until you’re back home. I will be holding you to that date, Robbie, and am counting the days until we’re on the dance floor, together. Until then…

Forever yours, 

Jo

Reaching for the bottle of perfume on the dresser, Jo quickly spritzed a generous helping of the floral scent on the paper in her hand, to ensure it lasted the long journey, before folding it up and sliding it into its designated envelope. Carefully, and with a delicate hand, she addressed the letter to Thorpe Abbotts Airbase. She had received Rosie’s first letter earlier in the week, and had spent that time drafting multiple responses; all of which had ended up in the waste paper basket in the corner of her bedroom. She had spent three nights mulling it over, before deciding that she should clear her head, and write as if he was sitting next to her. Well, it was not so much her deciding as it was advice from Jean Crosby. If anyone had experience in writing these types of letters, it was Jean. And so, Jo had written as if Rosie was sitting next to her; as if he was leaning across the table and telling her the details of his latest adventure with enthusiasm, and she had written back with equal vigor. 

Picking up the letter, and her purse, she made her way from the bedroom, downstairs to where her mother was having coffee with Mrs. Rosenthal. Entering the kitchen, both women ceased their discussion to greet her, her mother holding out an envelope for her. 

“Josephine, this came in the mail for you.” 

Jo gently plucked the envelope from her mothers hand, smiling when she saw the handwriting on the front was none other than Rosie’s. Carefully, she slipped it into her purse to read once she was alone. 

“Another letter so quickly?” Her mother’s grin widened. “He must miss you terribly.”

“He doesn’t write to me that frequently,” Mrs. Rosenthal joked, sending a subtle wink in Jo’s direction. “But then again, he’s not in love with me.”

“Somehow, I think he’ll always love you most, Mrs. Rosenthal, and I’m quite alright with that.” Jo smiled. 

“Where are you off to?” Her mother asked, noticing that she had her purse in hand. 

“Off to post this to Robbie, and then to meet Jean Crosby for lunch.” 

“Oh, well then, travel safely, and let her know she’s welcome to come here for dinner tonight if she wants.” 

“I’ll let her know, mom,” Jo smiled, moving to bid her mother goodbye with a quick peck to the cheek, before doing the same with Mrs. Rosenthal. “Now, you two can go back to your gossip.”

“It’s not gossip, Josephine, if we’re talking about our children.” The older woman’s voice held a lilt to it as Jo exited the kitchen. 

“Then stop planning our wedding!” Jo called back with a laugh as she exited their home and made her way out into the Brooklyn sunshine.  

The fall air was chilly, but not unbearably so as she walked down the block to the Post Office, letter in hand and a prayer in her mind that it would reach Rosie safely. She knew that the post could be unreliable, and take time to reach those stationed overseas, but she hoped against all odds that maybe her letter would get to its intended recipient a little faster than all the rest. It was silly of her to think so, after all, she wasn’t the only woman in New York who was missing her sweetheart, but this was new to her. To both of them. Beginning a romance with thousands of miles between them. Some days Jo regretted not saying anything sooner, wondering if they would have had time before he shipped out. But, then she thinks to herself that they did have time; years together growing up, and learning the ways of each other inside and out, and for that she would always be thankful. 

A short cab ride later, and Jo was knocking on Jean Crosby’s front door. When the door swung open, Jean on the other side, the two women greeted each other as if they were old friends. A kinship that was shared in the dark times of war, but somehow found a ray of light to brighten their days. 

“Jo! I was starting to think you got lost!” Her friend teased. 

“No,” Jo grinned, red lips stretched into a smile. “I had to stop by the post and drop off Robbie’s letter.”

“Finally finished it, then?”

“I did. And just in time to reply to the one I got this morning.”

“Back to back?” Jean looked at her, eyebrow raised in what Jo could only describe as concern. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jean sighed, stopping mid way of pulling her white gloves on, to face Jo with a serious expression. 

“Well…”

“You don’t think…”

“The only time I get back to back letters from Bing, is when something bad is happening over there.”

“Jean…”

“If it came from him, he’s fine, honey.” she reached out, hand coming down over Jo’s in reassurance. 

“It’s in my purse,” Jo confessed. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to go sit and read it before we leave?”

“I suppose I’d feel better if I knew for sure he was alright.”

Nodding, Jean pulled off her gloves, and dropped her purse back on the credenza by the door, before guiding Jo further into the house.

Once settled in the living room, Jean began to step away, to allow Jo the privacy that a letter from your man overseas deserved, when Jo’s hand shot out to stop her. 

“Could you…?”

“Of course.” Jean smiled softly, settling into the sofa next to her, but with enough space not to read over her shoulder. 

Jo carefully opened the envelope, fingers trembling as she slid the paper from its confines. Unfolding it, her eyes scanned over the paper quickly, before releasing a shuddering breath of relief. 

“He’s alright,” her hand flew to her chest as the words escaped her. “He’s somewhere called the Flak House?”

“Never heard of that,” Jean looked confused. “What is it?”

My Dearest Jo,

Sweetheart, I can’t promise this letter will be as happy as my last one. What I can promise is that I’m alright, and spending the next week in the English countryside at a place called the Flak House. It’s a place used to help soldiers rest after rough missions. Jo, it’s been three rough ones, back to back, with what felt like no end in sight. I will spare you the details, because you shouldn’t have to read about all of the blood, and horrors, but I do sadly need to tell you that we lost Herbert Nash on the first mission. It happened so quickly, it didn’t register until I had my feet on the ground again. I broke the news to Helen, his Red Cross girl, and I pray that what I saw on her face, is something no one will ever have to see on yours. 

One day, maybe, I will give you the details of our third mission, but for now, I know I should be counting my blessings. And enjoying this time, because sweetheart, this estate truly is something, but the kind of something I would want to be enjoying with you. Together, in the warm sun, reading our favorite books, or rowing on the lake. The boys are enjoying their week of R&R, but I can’t find it in me to relax. Though, I suppose you knew that already. Nobody knows me better than you, Jo, and it’s a time like this that I wish I had you near. 

I couldn’t sleep, which is the reason for this letter, and I think a part of it is that I needed to make sure you knew I was alright. The other part of me, in some way, needed to get this all off my chest. I’m sorry for burdening you with these ugly truths. I’ll try not to do it often, and I hope that it doesn’t become a habit with every mission, that I’m left rattled to my core with fear. I can hear you telling me to take care of myself, and honey, I promise I’m trying. By the time this makes it to you back home, I will be long gone from my stay here, and back on base. I’m sorry for the short letter, darling. I promise the next one will be longer, and happier. Until then…

All of my love, always

Robbie

Jo finished reading, her stomach dropping as she turned to Jean, to confirm that the other woman had in fact, been right. 

“Jo, what is it?”

“He couldn’t say much, spared most of the details, but he said it was rough up there.”

“Is he alright?”

“Robbie’s fine,” Jo confirmed. “But, Herbert Nash, is dead.”

“Oh that poor Red Cross girl!” She gasped, hand coming to cover her mouth in shock. “Didn’t they just meet?”

“They did,” Jo nodded. “I told Robbie I was rooting for the pair in the letter I just posted.”

“How could you have known?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sore over it.”

“I know you do,” Jean sympathized. The woman had enough sense to stand, and pull Jo up with her, knowing if she didn’t get them out of the house, her friend would likely spiral with worry. “Now come on, put that letter back in your purse, and let’s get out of the house for a bit.”

With a sigh, Jo nodded, and carefully put the letter back in the safety of her purse, before turning and following Jean towards the front door. For now, she could breathe easy, knowing that Rosie was safe. She knew that his mind was likely full of dark clouds, replaying events of the damage over and over, causing him grief and sadness; it brought with it a melancholy feeling that she wasn’t with him, and couldn’t be there for him to lean on. She knew he had his crew, and now, Harry Crosby, and she prayed that he had the sense to use that to his advantage. 

Jo was grateful that she had Jean. Their afternoon out kept her mind off of the letter that was burning a hole in her purse, and the man who was an ocean away, suffering the loss of a friend. They had stopped by the Automat for lunch, before taking the train uptown for some window shopping, and at Jo’s insistence, a new hat for Jean. By the time she had gotten back home, her mother was already cleaning up dinner. Her father was in the living room, the radio on while he listened to the nightly news. 

“Josephine, you missed dinner.” Her mother lamented at the sound of the front door closing behind her. 

“I’m sorry, mom,” Jo sighed, entering the kitchen and sliding into one of the empty chairs. “We got a late start on our lunch.”

Turning from her spot at the sink, Mrs. Harris surveyed her daughter, before promptly shutting the water and moving to sit across from her. 

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Jean and I just had a busy day is all.”

“Josephine, don’t lie to me.” She spoke with the authority of a mother who meant business, and Jo couldn’t help the few tears that escaped from behind her eyes. 

“Robbie’s letter,” she swiftly wiped away the first stray tear. “Oh mom, he lost one of his closest friends!”

Mrs. Harris let out a shuddering breath at Jo’s admission. The fear she had felt at the sight of her daughter's tears made her think the absolute worst for the young man who had become part of their family, and stolen her daughter’s heart. 

“Who was it?” Mrs. Harris asked. 

“Herbert Nash. He trained with Robbie in Texas, and he was killed on their first mission.”

“May his soul rest in peace.” Mrs. Harris made the sign of the cross. 

“Robbie said it was so bad, three flights, back to back. He didn’t say much else, just that it was too much blood and horror to share.”

“Jesus, that poor boy.”

Jo fished the letter from her purse, sliding it across the table to her mother, giving a small nod for her to read it. 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“Just the once.” Jo smiled slightly. 

“Well, alright then.”

Mrs. Harris pulled the paper from the envelope, and then the only sound in the room was the breathing of mother and daughter, and the muffled sound of the radio coming from the living room. The pair sat together until Jo’s mother folded the paper back up, and handed it back to her. The silence was growing thicker the longer they sat there, neither sure of what to say. When Jo’s father joined them in the kitchen, the two women seemed to snap out of their daze. 

“What’s going on in here then?”

“She’s got another letter from Robert.”

“Didn’t you just get one? Is he alright?” 

Jo nor her mother missed the recognition in Mr. Harris’ eyes. Having served in The Great War, he knew what could be in any one of the letters his daughter received, and he hoped for her sake, that none of them would make her cry the way she was now. 

“He’s fine. Lost a man during his first mission, and was sent to an estate for rest.” Her mother filled him in for her. 

“Jesus, already? Didn’t the boy just get over there?” Her father looked shocked. 

“He said it was really bad, dad.” Jo spoke up, finding her voice again. 

“Well, the best thing you can do is be there for him, even though you’re far away right now.” Her mother let her hand fall to cover hers, eyes filled with the understanding of a woman whose husband had been away once before. 

“Your mother was what kept me going during the war,” Her father agreed. “I can promise you, Robert will take your words with him up there when he’s flying.”

“Go now,” her mother ushered her out of the kitchen. “Clean yourself up and write him back. You’ll sleep better tonight knowing you got your feelings out.”

She felt heavy as she stood from her chair, her legs like lead as she made her way upstairs to her bedroom, numbness encompassing her until she had the door shut securely behind her. The words blood and horror swirling around in her mind over and over, like the edges of a cyclone that showed no signs of slowing down. Is that what this was? A storm that would continue to speed up, with nothing to stop it, until the last bomb was dropped, the last round fired? She wasn’t sure, but she turned the ideas over and over, words sticking together in her head as she changed for bed, removed her makeup, until finally, she pulled out the chair at her desk to begin her reply to Rosie. 

My Dearest Robbie, 

Sweetheart, I don’t think there are enough words for me to express just how sorry I am for you after opening your last letter. To lose Nash so quickly, and in such a way. I hope that it didn’t pain you too deeply to break that news to his Red Cross sweetheart, and that she is able to find some happiness again soon. Do not apologize for the length of your last letter. Every letter from you is something I treasure, whether it’s three words, or three pages. I will always reply, so long as you’ll have me. 

I’d like to hear more about the Estate you spent the week at, if you’re willing to talk about it. It does sound like the kind of place I would love to spend time with you, though, anywhere you are, is somewhere I want to be. Maybe we can escape somewhere lush and green once you return, and spend our days under the sun, with nothing but time on our hands. Until then, yes, you were right, I do wish you’d take care of yourself. I know you will, but that sometimes it takes a bit of pushing. Don’t try and shoulder the burden all alone, Robbie. You have people who will shoulder it with you; Pappy isn’t just your co-pilot in the sky. Try and remember that. 

I’d like to try and make you smile, if only for a moment. I found our mothers gossiping at the kitchen table this afternoon as I headed out. They claim it’s not gossip if they’re talking about their children; I suspect they’re plotting as usual. Speaking of your mother, try and squeeze in an extra letter for her, if you can. She misses you, though she claims to be alright with you writing to me more than her, I know she’d appreciate an extra piece of mail and to know you’re doing well. Don’t give her too much grief for the gossip, you know she can’t help it.

I’m counting the days until you’re here again, Robbie, and we can carry on as we were meant to; together. Until that time comes, I’m sending you all of my love. 

All of me, always

Jo

Read Part 4 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @rowdy-redhead @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @at-1800-hours @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85

[loregoddess]

For three houses, 5 and 30!

Hmm....I'm gonna do all three methinks.

5. Which route did you play through last? I saved Silver Snow for last, which worked out since the final map was the most difficult map for me to complete, even with my superstar New Game+ team of MVPs from previous runs. But it was also my favorite final boss theme from the ost, so...

8. What storyline threads should have had more development / been further explored? Hm, well every route has its strengths and weaknesses in the writing department. I think either Silver Snow or Crimson Flower could have used the most development.

SS feels like a rough draft, which meant that Verdant Wind, in following all the major story beats of SS but just like, better, felt like the finished draft, so if I had been in charge of writing I would have gone back and overhauled SS entirely, and made it completely unique (they could have made VW unique, but I feel it's strong as is, so SS needs to change).

I feel like the writers could have really leaned into the tragedy of Edelgard and Byleth falling out of trust, instead of the short and weird little scene we get at the start of the second arc after the timeskip, although this would require a lot more writing going into Edelgard for the first arc to make the player really care about her and feel the sting of betrayal more (for me, she came off as very cold in the first arc, which fits the general gist of her characterization, but when I'm losing approval points with her left and right I felt like, "girl what do you want from me" slight frustration rather than like, wondering about her mysterious secret bc even going in blind with my first run being Azure Moon, I figured out her role as Flame Emperor super quickly, so she wasn't mysterious so much as. Cold, and deeply untrusting--which is interesting characterization, but doesn't set up a betrayal plot twist very well).

Aside from really pushing for a more tragic overtone though, how I imagine potential rewrites varies bc there's a lot of room to do all sorts of things that I think could be interesting. What I personally think would be interesting and what like, a larger development team would think was feasible or interesting might be different. I would want to put more focus on Rhea and the history of Fodlan, maybe bring Sothis back into the picture and really dive into the world she knew before she had to heal it. I'd also want an entire arc talking about the demonic beasts and their history and the lore behind them, I am so curious about the monsters in 3H.

Alternatively if the writing didn't focus on the Nabatean characters, I think the writing should have really leaned in more to focus on the BE cast, since I feel like this is the most interesting potential arc for most of their character arcs, but they don't get to shine as much in SS due to having to share the narrative with the CoS characters.

As for Crimson Flower, I felt like the writers chickened out by trying to backpedal and make Edelgard morally grey instead of really leaning into her motives and ideologies that make her an interesting antagonist in all the other routes. Honestly aside from seeing all non-central characters undergo negative growth character arcs (watching the BL kids suffer in CF was SO fascinating for a lot of their characterizations), overall CF was the most boring route to me, ending with me wishing I could have defected to Rhea's side bc her spiral into madness seemed a hell of a lot more interesting than whatever Edelgard was doing.

I think the writers should have leaned in to making CF the "bad end" route, with lots of emphasis on all the bad things Edelgard was doing. I was prepared to play as a villain. Other games have made villain routes a thing, the fandom still would have been a toxic wasteland I'm sure, but at least the route would have been interesting. FE in general has a really hard time letting female villains be villains though, so I wasn't entirely surprised. Would love to see a FE female villain who's ruthless and unapologetically evil with no tragic backstory or mind control or justification, like how we see with Scarlet in FF7, but I know what FE is about so my hopes aren't high.

Also I feel like the Agarthans should have either been fully developed as villains, or cut entirely so Edelgard could have shone more brightly in her antagonist role. Especially since, as we see in Hopes, the writers really wanted to lean in more to making Edelgard morally grey, the Agarthans would have had to have so, so, so much more development to be the proper, potentially terrifying and horrific, villains they could have been.

30. What characters should have more support options and who should have been their support options? For Houses, I was actually pretty satisfied with the supports. Every character (sans Byleth) has about the same number of characters they can support with, give or take a few, so supports felt fairly balanced overall. I might have changed some of the supports to focus on different topics bc I feel there are some missed opportunities or vagueness that could have been written more precisely, but overall I'm happy w/ Houses.

Although if Rhea could've played a larger role, I think she should have had supports with various characters. Supports are where a lot of the characterization is stored, and we miss out on so much potential characterization for her as a result. I specifically think she would have gotten along famously with Mercedes and Annette, and I would pay money to see supports between her and Cyril.

Hopes on the other hand is another story, and this is mostly due to uh, many characters not being added into the playable roster (MY SON CYRIL I MISS YOU). If I had the full cast of characters I hoped would be playable (no pun intended), I would have wanted to see supports between Hanneman and Sylvain, since they took Sylvain's character in an interesting direction in Hopes, and I think the dynamic between the two would have also been fascinating. (Also imagine how chaotic supports between Hanneman and Monica could have been; guy who's been studying all his life, and girl with a genius memory).

Nadir and Judith should have been playable, and they should have gotten supports with each other too.

I also think Ignatz and Hubert should have had supports in the Scarlet Blaze route. Hubert compliments Ignatz's strategy the battle where you can recruit Ignatz, and that is just so rare for Hubert, that I was like huh, wonder what supports between these two would even look like. They also both want to ride pegasi so...yeah I've been thinking about the potential dynamics between those two ever since. They haunt me.

I also really, really wished Miklan lived through the events of Azure Gleam, bc his writing was so much more interesting in Hopes than in Houses, and I want to pull out a lawn chair and get a nice cup of tea so I can watch the Gautier skeleton closet get cleaned out in his hypothetical supports.

[unironicallycringe]

It is WIP Wednesday, which I only celebrate when I have a wip to share (which is to say: infrequently).

Turns out having a secondary fic to fiddle with helps me work on the main one more. This time the secondary is an old TES wip called Dear Brother. I've shared pieces before but it's largely unpublished since it was during my "I can't let anyone know I'm cringe!!!" 2016 phase. It has like ten chapters sitting in a file gathering dust, but I've been editing it bit by bit and injecting a new framing device. Here's some drafting of a scene stitching together the middle chapters.

Raelius shrieks as a weight descends upon him in a flurry of shadows. Before he even has a chance to react, he’s hit the floor while someone's hand wraps tightly around his throat. An ugly knife glints in the light of his still-flickering torch spell. To his horror, the face of a corpse melts out of inky blackness and hovers menacingly above. A thick, tangled curtain of blood red hair obscures its features, but the dim light reveals its most important detail - fangs like those of a slavering wolf, bared in a frozen lunge for a second that feels more like a lifetime.

Yet in that same second, Raelius notices something else. Beneath that lethal maw, its neck beholds a jagged, twisted scar. The flesh there is lumpy and gnarled from its body's desperate attempts to knit a mortal wound back together long after surrender should have come. Recognition hits him in a surge that overrides all panic. "You're the Silencer!" he gasps. The corpse stills. Its jaws close slightly, its hand loosens. Shadows dance across the sharp ridges of its face where bone stretches its skin taut. Then, its eyebrows furrow in what could only be described as a dumbfounded expression. A wheezing puff of air hisses through its throat. "Hhh?" it questions. Its breath hits Raelius as a rotten cloud, and he dearly wishes for the vampire to close its mouth. "Th-the writer! Of the journal! I have your journal!" he explains quickly. "Please let go, and I can show you!" The vampire none-too-gently yanks Raelius to his feet by a fistful of tunic. In the quiet that follows, its reddish-pink eyes scan his face in meticulous examination. At least, Raelius thinks they're scanning his face, since any difference between sclera, iris, and pupil is just a progressive deepening of red. An unsettling gaze that would remind him of Dunmeri eyes, were they not so empty. Regardless, he takes the chance to give the same once-over to his mystery author. It - or maybe “he”? - is indeed as short as admitted in the journal. He's of Bosmeri heritage, the woodland elves who are much smaller than their eastern and western merrish cousins. Silencer stands nearly a foot shorter than the Redguard mage, but his presence intimidates all the same. If memory serves, contemporary medical texts describe vampirism as bestowing supernatural strength along with its various curses. And given that he just lifted Raelius one-handed, it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine him capable of much more concerning feats. Silencer could likely snap the intruding man in two should he choose. Raelius gives a nervous laugh at this realization and wets his lips. “You didn't write about the vampirism! I was wondering how you might have escaped that dreadful business in your last entry,” he offers lightly. “Well, perhaps you just didn't get to that part, seeing as I have your book and all. But wow - this is incredible, really, I was only looking for more pages here, I didn't expect to find you alive! Er, well, mostly alive, aha…” The joke doesn't seem to break any ice, since Silencer merely stares with wide, unblinking eyes. Typical response to icebreakers at Raelius' academic conferences, anyhow. “I suppose your title describes you well, Silencer!” Another nervous laugh, a clearing of the throat. “Perhaps I should introduce myself and tell you why I’m here. My name is Raelius Moorwing, and I’m a graduate student at the Arcane University ...” Silencer sticks a hand out with his palm up. Raelius goes in for the expected handshake, but the vampire smacks his advance away in annoyance. He repeats the original gesture, this time curling and uncurling fingers insistently, as though to demand ‘give me’. “Ah, right! Your book, yes, I’m sure you’re keen to see it, just a moment.”

[aviatorasharak]

Writer Interview

I've been tagged (shouted the same way one would "I've been hit") by the wonderful @theycallmeratt

When did you start writing?

I, let's say, experimented in high-school, writing here and there, finishing maybe 2 shorter stories in total and starting 10 more. I recently found some of those writings, and I was unable to read more than two sentences... The cringe was overwhelming, lol~ I also won a competition with a short story I've written specifically for that, though thinking back, it was probably a case of "only one person bothered entering".

As for my "real" beginnings, I finished the short story that started my streak that's still ongoing in the beginning of 2021. That was in my native language (Hungarian). I began writing in English less than a year ago

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I enjoy detective stories, the build-up, the mystery, everything falling into place at the end so neatly. Bonus points if the story has a deeply emotional side to it (Murder on the Orient Express comes to mind). I also like mythological tales, although I do have one short story that tries to emulate that style to some degree.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Terry Pratchett. As in trying to emulate at times (though I do want to establish my own style). My only regret is not starting to read his books sooner.

There are also some other writers who use humour or absurdity in their writings which I'm fond of overall, but I'm very, very far from that.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I either feel best writing at night (or at least when it's already dark outside and I have no reasonable responsibilities left for the day. Or have a slow, chill Saturday/Sunday with no other programs but to just write leisurely.

While I was writing in my native language to mostly two or three of my friends, I liked writing my first and second draft on paper. I used a couple of my old notebooks that still had enough empty pages in them and repurposed them this way. I also filled a couple new ones over the years. I kind of miss that, actually. I enjoyed the physical aspect of writing the pen and paper.

Now I'm writing fully digitally. Makes it easier to organize, search for specific parts etc. I use LibreOffice, because it's offline and free and has everything I need~

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Sitting down and writing. It feels awful at times, especially when I feel all I'm writing down are disjointed sentences with half the words being placeholders (in different languages no less!). But so far, it's been proven effective. Once I cross that magical threshold, everything starts falling into place. Or at least, start looking coherent.

Also letting an idea/chapter/story sit for a bit.

Also lying awake at night.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Fathers/fatherhood. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest, because it's very intentional most of the time. A father, to me, is akin to a mystical entity, the stuff of legends, its symbolism highly prevalent in our culture, yet eluding me in all my life, no matter how I yearned for it.

So I pour my pain into my art, as one does.

What is your reason for writing?

The nice, and probably very clichéd, answer to that is that I want to create stories. I believe humans have an innate need for stories, be it consuming or creating them. In many different forms, not just in writing.

The more personal answer is that I've been dreaming up fantastical scenarios and elaborate stories ever since I was a child (a rather lonely child at times) and part of me sometimes felt I should write some of these down to make them "legitimate", so to speak. Problem is, these personal stories were very wish-fulfilment-y, and deep down I felt they didn't contain enough struggle and drama. As I matured, so did my stories mature, and I became less of a benevolent god in them and more... human.

In the end, those stories stayed and stay inside my head still, because I choose to write down other ideas. Still, there's a part of me in those stories as well, which is inevitable in my opinion. Sharing those little parts of myself is basically me showing myself to the world, asking: "Am I all right (as a person/human being?"

Wow, this is becoming kinda heavy and personal. Well, writing is a personal thing, so~

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I like when people mention specifics because it signals to me that my writing was interesting enough for them to retain details. Bonus if they point out something I felt good about while writing it. A pun, an emotional moment, a payoff to something that's been building for 5+ chapters.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Witty, clever, knowledgable, hilarious at time (intentionally perhaps)...

In all seriousness, a "storyteller." Plain and simple~

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

You're asking me to basically praise my own work, something I'm very uncomfortable with most of the time. I'm half-joking.

I think I do a pretty good job of keeping track of everything in a longer fic. Symbolism, references, objects of interest, etcetera. I also keep my notes fairly organized.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Mix of both. While I have my own, self-indulgent ideas and fics, I also like to, let's say, cater to certain people who I know will read that particular story.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Sometimes, I feel it's pretty good. Then I start doubting myself, and have a brief urge to ask people basically, "Hey, is my writing... good? Passable?"

Fortunately, I've always been able to resist this, because I don't actually think it would be beneficial. As clichéd as it sounds, I have to find the answer within myself.

I do believe my writings are at least entertaining, and have good ideas with acceptable execution. And I am proud on some of them.

I do think I'm not well-read or know enough to put in interesting references (think Terry Pratchett).

[hollybell51]

Chapter Twelve

What did you do?

A Heart of Ice - Jack Frost x fem!Reader

Chapter Eleven, masterpost

Word count: 1673

Summary: Pitch ambushes Jack for a very enlightening conversation

Notes: I wish I knew how to write effective angst

It was a quick flight with the wind to Jamie and Sophie’s house. Jack hopped nimbly through the window, stumbling onto the bed and laying Sophie down, unclasping her hands from around his neck and stepping back.

She sighed, turning over in her sleep and falling straight off the bed.

“Shoot!” he whispered, hastily trying to replace her on it. The baby tooth fairy he rescued from Pitch squeaked in his ear, cringing.

“Sophie!” her mother called, “is that you?”

He frantically threw a blanket over her, then a toy, then exited the room onto the windowsill outside. He wished you were there, he could imagine you helping him lower Sophie into the bed, probably swearing the whole time, but you’d be laughing too. You’d also probably have some choice words about how he’d  left the kid, and wouldn’t let him leave until he went in and tucked her in properly.

Maybe afterwards, the two of you would sit outside and you’d smoke one of your stupid joints, and Jack would tell you that he was sorry he kissed you on the roof the other night, that he didn’t want to mess up your relationship. Maybe he could even ask you why you’d made him fall in love with you if you didn’t love him, and you’d offer him a perfectly reasonable explanation. Or maybe you’d even tell him you did love him, and he’d get to kiss you again. 

“I’m being stupid,” he said aloud. “She didn’t do it back the first time, and she was high the second time. She didn’t mean it.”

Beside him, the tooth fairy squeaked mournfully.

“We should get going, huh?” he said to her, and she nodded. He turned to go, but was stopped by a laugh in the distance.

“Jack!” a girl’s voice called, still laughing. It seemed so familiar…

“That voice,” he whispered, “I know that voice.”

“Jack!” she called again. It wasn’t you, definitely not you, and yet… it felt like he knew her.

He jumped up onto a draft of wind, riding it over the buildings, the little fairy squeaking behind him. After a while he landed on a rooftop, turning to look around.

“Jack!” the girl called again, from his right.  He followed her voice, out of the main town and into the woods just outside it.

“Jack!”

He landed, walking through the trees towards where she sounded like she was coming from. He crested a hill, stopping to stare. Ahead, an old bed frame was resting in a small clearing, its wood faded and rotting. He advanced towards it, ignoring the tooth fairy’s pulling on his hoodie.

On closer inspection, he discovered that the bed was covering a large hole, its darkness just visible through the broken slats. He raised his staff, smashing two of them and watching as the pieces of wood fell away into the dark, clattering at the bottom.

“Jack?” the girl called again, her voice echoing from inside the hole. He briefly wondered what you would do if you were here, what you’d tell him to do, then discarded that thought. You weren’t here, and he needed to stop thinking about you.

He jumped down into the hole, landing lightly in what looked to be some kind of cave or tunnel, with stalactites hanging from the roof and stalagmites reaching up for the ceiling (”stalagmites might reach the roof,” you’d said once while dragging him along behind a cave tour -- why you’d wanted to go was still a mystery to him -- “stalactites have to hold on tight.”). The baby tooth fairy was panicking now, zipping round his head and squeaking frantically.

“Baby tooth,” he told her, “baby tooth, come on! I have to find out what that is!”

Ahead, the tunnel opened up into a massive cave, the roof and walls completely obscured by thousands of cages, all of them full of…

“Fairies,” Jack whispered, leaping between them. They were all chittering and squeaking, all pressing themselves against the walls, their tiny wings rustling against the wire.

“Just hold on, ok?” he told them, “I’m gonna get you out of here as soon as I—”

“Jack!” the girl called, cutting him off. He looked around, gasping as his eyes landed on piles and piles of golden hexagonal prisms beneath him. The teeth. He dropped, grunting as he landed on the pile. The fairies’ chittering increased, but he ignored them, hunting through the pile for his teeth and yours.

“Looking for something?” a cold voice asked.

Without a second thought, Jack fired a blast of ice from his staff and chased after the retreating shadow.

“Don’t be afraid, Jack,” Pitch laughed, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Afraid?” he asked, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe not,” he sighed, “but you are afraid of something.”

Jack advanced towards the end of the stone bridge he was standing on, staff outstretched. “You think so, huh?”

“I know so! It’s the one thing I always know. People’s greatest fears.” He turned, a cruel smile twisting his mouth. “Yours is that no one will ever believe in you.”

Jack stepped back, gasping as the ground gave way under him and he fell, landing hard on the ground.

“And worst of all,” Pitch laughed, “you’ll never know why. Why you? Why were you chosen to be like this? Well fear not, for the answer to that is right here.” He held out a hexagonal prism, one of the tooth boxes. On the end of it was a picture of Jack, but younger, and with brown hair and brown eyes. He stepped forwards slightly, only just becoming aware that his back had been against the wall.

“And (Y/N)?” Jack challenged, “Do you have hers?”

“(Y/N)…” he sighed, a small smile playing around his lips. “Ah, my dear, sweet (Y/N).”

“She’s not your anything.” Jack growled, brandishing his staff.

“Of course. She’s yours now, is she?”

Yes, his mind screamed. Yes, she’s my best friend and the only steady, real, good thing. And I messed it up. “No,” he replied instead, “she’s a person. She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Oh but you wish she did, don’t you? She’s done that little trick of hers on you, I wonder why. Something tells me hasn’t told you.”

“What’s with you and her anyway?” Jack fired at him. What did this idiot know about you, about him? “Why are you so obsessed with her?”

“Does she ever talk about it? About me and her? Oh, the time we shared!”

“She’s never mentioned you,” he gritted.

Pitch sighed, turning away and disappearing into the shadows. “So she’s told you nothing of her past.”

“She doesn’t need to.” But still, how did Pitch know more than him about the one person who’d been by his side since... well, since the beginning he supposed. Of course you had your walled off sections, your no access zones, but he didn’t like the idea of Pitch having a special pass, a higher level of clearance. 

He laughed again, his shadow on the wall, the silhouette of the teeth in his hand. Except there were two boxes now. “Everything you wanted to know, in these little boxes. Why did you two end up like this? Unseen, unable to reach out to anyone.”

The shadow disappeared, Pitch’s laughter echoing down the stairs. Jack ran after it, down further into the cave, following the sound of his voice.

“You want the answers so badly,” he continued. “You want to reach out and grab them, fly off with them! But you’re afraid of what the Guardians will think, what’s she’ll think. You’re afraid of disappointing them.”

He was in a stairwell now, Pitch’s shadow cast on all the walls around him, circling him, his voice coming from all sides.

“Let me ease your mind about one thing,” he said. “They’ll never accept you, not really. She’ll never love you, no matter how hard you try to impress her, no matter how much you do. She may be Cupid, but she’s incapable of letting herself love anyone. You don’t have a chance.”

“Stop it!” Jack shouted, backing away. His back hit something, and he turned to see the globe, only a few lights still shining. But that couldn’t be right, he’d sworn he was in the tooth palace a few moments ago.  

“After all,” Pitch continued, “you’re not one of them. You don’t know (Y/N) like the others do, even the Easter Bunny knows her better than you! You’re like one of her little drugs, she’ll use you for a while then cast you away as soon as she’s done, as soon as there’s a better option!”

“Shut up!” Jack shouted. “You don’t know (Y/N) now, you don’t know what I am.”

“Of course I do!” he laughed, “she’s not changing. And you’re Jack Frost! You make a mess wherever you go. Why, you’re doing it right now.” He tossed him the two prisms of teeth, smiling. “She probably won’t want these anyway, she has a bit of thing with the past. Likes to always move forwards, very opposed to looking back in any way.”

Jack caught both the tooth boxes, holding them tightly. “What did you do?”

“More to the point, what did you do?” He laughed once more, then faded away into the dark hallway behind him.

With a shout, Jack ran after the shadow, shooting ice where he should have been. It didn’t hit anything, but Jack did. He slammed straight into a stone doorway.

“Baby tooth?” he called, searching for her frantically in the dimness. But all he could see were the mossy walls of a tunnel, smashed stone monuments lining it. Smashed stone monuments in the shape of eggs. With horror, he realised that there were broken painted egg shells all along the tunnel floor, the light from a few vents illuminating them where they lay.

“No,” he whispered, running along. “No, no, there has to be some.” But there weren’t, all the eggs were gone.

Chapter Thirteen

[screadingchallenge]

Behind the Keyboard Volume 22

Behind the Keyboard is a series of interviews with different Schitt’s Creek fanfic authors. The series will last as long as there is interest (from authors) and capacity (from me). If you are an author from the Schitt’s Creek fandom who would like to participate, send a DM to this account.  

Each author was given ten questions. The first five questions are the same for every author, the last five will vary.

Let’s meet our next author:

@vivianblakesunrisebay​ /  vivianblakesunrisebay

How many fics have you written?

30

When did you publish your first fic on AO3?

September 20, 2019

Describe your writing process from “Oh, I have an idea” to pushing publish on AO3. 

My writing process is just… writing. LOL. Before I do anything else, I need to start writing out my idea to see if it has any life to it. Basically I need a hook into my character’s POV–something specific in their attitude toward the situation I’ve put them in. Once I have that hook, I feel like I’m pulled into their head and I can just keep going, putting them in more situations and knowing how they’ll react. For a long work, of course, I need to spend time planning out the plot, I can’t do it too far ahead. My plot is mostly worked out as I go along and then backtracking if I end up on a blind alley. Two of my AUs have mystery plots, The Rosebud Diamond and Sting Like a Bee, and I had to juggle not only what was happening but how it would be discovered. What do the characters know, what does the reader know, and when do they know it. It was a lot! I wish I could do outlines, but the closest I get is making lists of what might happen. That said, my first drafts tend to be pretty bare bones, almost like a glorified outline. I go through lots of drafts in general, the first pass being to establish the basic framework, the second adding emotions and reactions, and then lastly working on the language itself. I know some people don’t edit much, but frankly, I’d be embarrassed for people to read my first drafts.  

Tell me about your most recent fic? What do you love about it? Is there anything you think you could have done better?

My most recent fic, Step Right Up, grew out of a writing challenge I did with a group of other writers, where we had a prompt and each wrote a 200 word snippet. It was a great challenge. My snippet had David and Patrick at a carnival, and I was drawn to the idea of Patrick wanting to give David a rom com-worthy carnival date and things going wrong, but they’re at a point in their relationship where things going wrong can be a source of fun and teasing instead of angst and stress. Also I always love the dynamic of Patrick (over)planning and David saving the day. 

What advice would you give to someone who’s thinking about publishing their fic for the first time?

I think in terms of subject matter, write like it’s only for you. Don’t feel like you have to conform to other people’s headcanons. In terms of writing, I’d say it’s good to remember that sometimes less is more. Aim for clarity. Your reader shouldn’t have to work hard to figure out what’s going on. A beta is great for this, pointing out areas where you need to be more clear. 

Do you use a beta? Why or why not? Do you beta for other people?

Yes, my fellow authors @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3​ and @missgeevious​ are my betas. A beta makes everything better! They are great for brainstorming, helping you when you’re blocked, and motivating you to write in the first place. And yes, I also beta. I love it! It’s a privilege to get a first look at writing from authors I love, and learning to offer clear feedback is a learning process in itself. I feel it strengthens my own writing.

How many unfinished WIPs do you have right now?

One, actually! Unlike what I hear from most writers, I generally only have one thing I’m working on, though with long works I will sometimes pause to write a short fic. I have a short list of ideas, or maybe a plan for what I’ll write next, but that’s it. I also have a couple of things that I started writing but couldn’t find a way for it to work, but I consider those dead ends not WIPs. 

In what way are you most like your favorite Schitt’s Creek character?

I’m a people pleaser, I tend to force myself into boxes defined by others, and I tend to put off difficult conversations. Guess who my favorite character is?

Would you rather find a title or write a summary?

I would much rather write a summary. Luckily my beta is amazing at titles so I have outsourced that to her pretty much completely.

How much of yourself do you put into your stories or characters?

This is an interesting question. There’s bits of myself in my writing, but that’s not what motivates me to write. It’s more like I’m trying to escape from being in my own head by getting into the heads of other people.

[turanga4]

2022 Roundup

Thanks for the open tag, @sliebman10--I like how this one has a mix of things one did, things one is doing, and things one WISHES to do next year.

Post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular),

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year,

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year,

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year,

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year!

Five pieces I am proud of feels like a lot: imma do three.

Accidental Magic This one came so seamlessly to me, once I scrapped all my initial plans to do a more conventional love story for the contest prompt, "pivot." I'm proud because it was a chance for me to trust my instincts, and also to reach out to other writers for advice and thought partnership--I leaned heavily on a brilliant meta from @ashesandhackles and I felt so very brash even asking for permission to do that, but she met me with such amazing kindness and sincere interest in my craft.

Mysteries This one kicked my arse. I drafted and struggled and despaired and tried again, and if @evesaintyves hadn't been there to talk me off the ledge seven different times, it would never have made it to publication. I am proud, because I didn't give up, and now, it's a thing I feel good about sharing.

Visit Proud of my last piece, because it shows I'm still creating stuff, and also because I used it to try a very new thing--second person pov. I'm proud of the fact that I am always learning and stretching: it's first and foremost a credit to the people who are so generous with their support, inspiration, and encouragement, but it is also a credit, I think, to me.

2. FOUR current WIPs? Nah.

I'm working on one thing for a festival, so must be Way Secret. I am also working on a story centering Neville after the War--my conceit is weaving together his relationship with himself and his parents with the Muggle concept of using principles of improv comedy to work with dementia patients. I only have the title (Yes And) and a couple hundred words, but I'm looking forward to crafting it fully next year.

3. Biggest Improvements this year? Everything? I just started fan fic writing this year, and I started out ROUGH. I think craft-wise, I've gained the most in my ability to use point of view, and in my use of actions and descriptions to gird my dialogue: I used to pretty much just drop the characters in the middle of a conversation and not do anything other than the 'script' to help the reader understand time, place, or mood. Metacognitively, I've gained confidence, although I still have further to go with this--a willingness to see what I'm doing as both worth doing for myself and worth sharing with others.

4. Two Resolutions I shall break the 3000 words mark, and I shall learn how to Plot, which is something that I genuinely have not needed to fuck with until now.

5. One Favorite Line: From Accidental Magic, a summary of sorts of Harry's arc as he moves from what he needed to be around the Dursleys towards who he is meant to be:

He hides cake under the floorboards and buries love in a place deep enough within himself that for years it sparks out hot and feral, beyond conscious volition, an accidental magic that he has to learn to tame.

It has been such a joy to have found fan fic and the lovely, lovely humans I am blessed to know within this special space. I wish you all a creative and wondrous new year!

[wordsnstuff]

Guide to Writing in First Person POV

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Practice & Adjustment

When you’re new to writing in first person, or you’re returning to the practice after not having done so for a long time, it can be difficult to adjust to the style. It’s a big shift to go from writing from third person, a relatively straight-forward perspective, to first person. First person introduces a whole new set of elements to consider when writing. Bias, reliability of their memory versus the objective truth versus the other characters’ memory of the same events, and motivation. Motivation is especially tricky when it comes to the first-person narrative because you have to sort out not only what happens and how it effects the characters/plot but why the narrator is including it, and how their personal perspective changes the way you’re depicting the events. The best way to adjust to this style is to practice. One of my personal favorite ways to practice is through low-stakes writing. Fanfiction, short stories, personal retellings of my own experiences like diary entries, etc. These are all methods of story-telling that are typically short-form and allow you to naturally familiarize yourself with the characteristics of a first-person narrative.

Including Backstory & Context

When you’re writing in first person, it’s important to consider that certain characteristics of the narrator’s perspective won’t make sense to the reader or adequately add to their reading experience until you apply the relevant context. Personal experiences, values, motivations, and priorities all influence how a person tells a story, and in order to write a good first-person narrative, you need to have a grasp on these things. The reader needs to understand them as well. Perhaps some of these things are deliberately omitted from the reader’s awareness,. If a narrator’s motivations, for example, are going to remain a mystery until the end, you must deliver a satisfying conclusion that establishes to the reader why that choice was made. It’s generally a good idea to introduce this information early on. Backstory and personal context are essential to the foundation of a first-person narrative. 

Developing Secondary Characters

Developing secondary characters can be a challenge in this point of view because you’re solely focused on the lens of an individual. The other characters in the story will therefore be established to the reader based on what the narrator thinks, feels, and tells of them. Many writers feel concern about creating well-rounded secondary characters in a first person narrative because everything the reader sees must be witnessed by the narrator. However, this can be an advantage. A secondary character’s arc forms more naturally because it’s being observed organically through the eyes of another. The narrator makes observations for the reader to interpret alongside them. The reader may not have extensive knowledge of the specifics that cause a change in the characters, but they are more intuitively informed by the secondary characters’ behaviors and reactions to the narrator and whatever the narrator can see. 

Distinctive Voice

You must be deliberate in the way you construct the narrator’s consciousness. It’s imperative that you be somewhat in-character while you write in first person because their thought process must be consistent throughout the storytelling. What are they likely to notice or fixate on when they’re experiencing or recounting events? What is likely going through their heads? What causes alarm or comfort and how is this reflected in the vocabulary or tone they use in description? A distinctive voice is a major part of developing your perspective character, so approach it with intention. 

Depict, Don’t Report

It’s just as easy in first person as it is in third person to fall into the habit of reporting events rather than depicting them. Reporting is when the narrative consists of “she said this” or “he felt this” or “the weather was bad”. Depicting is recounting the events with style and deliberate detail that constructs a tone and absorbs the reader. “He cast his eyes downward and kicked at the rocks on the path.” “A shadow fell over the café as clouds inched across the sun, “I love you,” he said. “I know,” I whispered. My eyes refused to lift from the condensation on the glass before me.” That’s the difference. Vocabulary, syntax, and deliberate detail absorbs the reader. 

Common Struggles

~ How do I avoid starting every sentence with the word “I”?... Intimate vocabulary & diverse sentence structure. When a scene consists of too many sentences that begin with the word “I”, that’s a good indication that you’re telling rather than showing. Detail should be interspersed and create some distance from the narrator’s inner monologue. Use vocabulary that bring the reader in and vary the construction of your sentences. This often becomes easier when you set aside time to focus on the practice of technical writing skills, rather than the practice of storytelling. 

~ How do I maintain consistent tense (past vs present) while writing from the first person perspective?... Practice. A lot of narrative skill and consistency comes with practice. Devoting time to a focused practice of maintaining consistent narrative tense at the same time as telling a story in first person is immensely helpful. Set aside time before and during the drafting process to practice your skill in this. Once you’re comfortable and zoned into these mechanics, you won’t have to think about it that much. It’s like muscle memory. 

~ How can I identify biases the character might have in relation to the events they’re recounting?... Analyze their motivations. Analyze their relationships to the other parties involved, and how that may influence what they focus on and what language they would use to describe the other characters’ actions. A lot of this nuance comes in the second draft and editing stages, but initially these two things are essential to writing a sturdy, foundational first-person narrative draft. 

~ What techniques can I use to keep the POV character���s voice unique & consistent?... Include deliberate trends in vocabulary, thought process, and focus. This is where their personality shines through their words. Are they more likely to notice the weather or the traffic when they first step out of their home? When having an argument, are they more likely to apply context to the other person’s tone or their body language?

~ How do I avoid accidentally making the POV character omniscient?... Get in character and don’t repeatedly remind yourself of things that you as an author know, but you as a narrator do not. If you as a narrator know that a secondary character is upset during a scene for reasons the POV character isn’t aware of, it’s important to walk the line of first person observation and omniscient foreshadowing. Question often why you’re including details in description, and if the answer is ever information that the POV character doesn’t know yet, it’s probably best to cut it out. 

Other Resources

Pros & Cons of Different Points of View

Resources For Describing Characters

Resources For Describing Emotion

Connecting To Your Own Characters

Giving Characters Distinct Voices in Dialogue

 Introducing Secondary Characters

Tips on Character Consistency

Tackling Subplots

Resources For Describing Physical Things

How To Develop A Distinct Voice In Your Writing

Balancing Detail & Development

Showing VS Telling in First Person POV

Showing Vs Telling

Describing emotion through action

Improving Flow In Writing

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[jimmys-zeppelin]

hi 😏

today I have for you lovely folks a blurb I wrote after watching five minutes of a documentary about the "blow-up" movie. in it, they discussed the swinging 60s in london and like. this whole scene flashed into my mind I didn't know what to do with it lmao. I won't write anything else for this situation or character unfortunately (never say never 👀) BUT I didn't want to keep it sitting in my drafts so I figured I'd post it for a SSS. enjoy 🥰

She snapped a photo as inconspicuously as she could inside the crowded club. She was only there by coincidence, a friend of a friend of a friend had gotten her an in, though she was hardly known by anyone there anyway.

Having gone on her own, it shrouded her in mystery to the other guests. At one point she'd seen the likes of Mick Jagger taking a few shots. She withheld from from snapping a picture of him. Even then she'd be quick as a whip; he wouldn't even notice.

Tugging at the skirt of her minidress—borrowed—she tried to look as calm as possible; like she belonged, though she wasn't sure how well it was working.

The jazz band on stage paid no mind to the half-listening audience. Her camera shutter closed once again. A close up of the drummer, lost in thought under the dark blue lights. At least that was her aim for the photo. Turning, she was making a move for the ladies' restroom, but was met instead with a body colliding into hers, the variety of buttons on his coat rattling in the meantime.

"Christ, pardon me." the person said, their tone coming off much more agressively than the sound of their voice.

"You walked right into me." She said rather irritably, "could've dropped my camera, you twit."

"I'm sorry, I—" he stopped, stammering when he finally got a good look at her, "I'm sorry."

"Watch where you step next time, alright?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before heading off again in the direction of the restrooms.

In her purse she could hear the two empty film canisters rattling about along with her lipstick and emergency tampon. She huffed in remembrance of the interaction she'd just had as she relieved herself. The restroom reeked of cigarette smoke—the one thing she couldn't stand about the rock scene, well...not the one thing.

Two girls conversed outside of her stall, puffing on their sticks. She could see them clearly through the crack in between the stalls. Something inside told her to go for the peep shot, but everything else warned her against it. She pulled the lever on her camera, the familiar and comforting sound of the film winding into position brought her a half second's relief.

Knowing the shutter would be too loud, she flushed and snapped in unison. The girls seemed none the wiser.

Nervously, she exited the stall, letting her camera point away from the young women as she went to wash her hands.

"Nice camera." One of them remarked, pointing at her device with the smoldering end of her cigarette.

The other turned to look, nodding in agreement. "It's real bad."

"Thanks."

"Never seen you here before, how'd you get in?" the first girl asked. She was blonde, though it was the faux blonde most girls went for. Despite it being neatly styled, it was obviously fried to a crisp.

"A friend of Brian Epstein's."

A lie.

"Shit, so you know The Beatles?" other asked. A redhead.

"No," she replied, her momentum falling flat on its face.

"Oh." the girls muttered, facing each other once again, fazing her out and dismissing her almost as quickly as they'd regarded her.

Awkwardly, she made her leave, weaving her way back into the club and going straight for the bar. She set her camera down, wishing she'd brought its strap with her. Melissa said it'd ruin the overall look, and dismally, she agreed. Now here she was, putting her precious camera on the grimy bar top.

"What'll it be?"

"Brandy and coke, please."

"Coming up, darling."

She pulled a fiver from her bag and fiddled with it as she observed the people milling about. Some conversed, others danced, and the ones in booths were in completely separate worlds.

There, she saw her accoster engaged in friendly conversation with someone she knew. The buttons on his coat shone under the red lights. He looked like an American Civil War soldier. She figured there had to be something wrong with him.

"Here you go, love." The barkeep said, passing her her drink. In exchange, she gave him the five, telling him to keep whatever the difference would be.

She watched as Buttons gestured wildly with his hands, even at times bringing his arms into the conversation. She pulled again at the lever on her camera.

Snap.

Peering just above the body of the device, she saw she only had two photos left. Having already been there for upwards of two hours, she was starting to get antsy. Discreetly, she caught another shot of Buttons and another of the band before standing from the table she'd sat at and leaving into the humid August night.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 4)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: some awkwardness, and almost-nudity, and a sex scene but not the kind you’re expecting (lol) just fluff y’all!

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll​

Mrs. Alberti asking you for the rent made you realize a month had passed.  You couldn’t tell if it had gone by quickly or slowly; a little of both, perhaps.

You pulled the finished page from your typewriter and placed it in the stack.  You were finally done with the first chapter; pretty good for a month of time to work, incredible for how distracted you’d been.  Still, as you flipped through the pages you’d worked on, you appreciated that this was simply the very beginning of a very early draft.  You realized you should probably write the ending next, as that was usually how you handled a mystery like this, but you were compelled to try a different method this time and see if you could get the first draft done chronologically.  You got the sense that this story wasn’t going to end the way you’d thought it would when you’d started it...

Your evening jog took a new path this time, one which happened to run right past the smaller cottage that Mrs. Alberti inhabited.  You noticed her windows were open— as they should be on a day as nice as this— and for a second you glanced and saw someone inside…

Wait, is that… Arnold Schwarzenegger?

With a chuckle, you realized that you were seeing the TV.  As you ran further ahead, the angle changed to show it was Sebastian sitting on the end of her bed and watching it.  She’d mentioned that she was going out for groceries today… was he just hanging out in there to get some TV time, or was he taking a break from something he’d been doing for her?

This pressing question needed answers ASAP.  The only solution now was to go inside and talk to him, of course.

His eyes stayed glued on the screen even as you stepped into the house and pushed open the creaky old door to the bedroom.  Seeing the TV again, you realized that this wasn’t just any old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie— it was the best Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

“Are you watching Terminator?” you asked with incredulous joy, and he finally turned around.

“Da!” he beamed.  “Terminatorul,” he explained, pointing to the television.  “Ma voi intoarce,” he mimicked in a deep voice.

“I’ll be back!” you translated as you realized he was quoting the most iconic line, sitting down next to him on the foot of the bed and watching the movie as well.

It was dubbed in Romanian— technically you couldn’t tell that it was Romanian just by hearing it, but you could tell based on how entranced Sebastian was by it; he must’ve understood what was going on.  The best part was that you understood it too, based mainly on context clues and your vague memory of the movie.  Being able to share something with him was unexpectedly gratifying.    

He was over halfway in, and you were trying to figure out what was going on now; this scene was all a conversation, so it was all lost on you.  Sarah Connor and what’s-his-face talking about something, presumably about how her son was the future leader of the resistance against the machines.  You realized that this was a sort of strange movie.  And why was the guy shirtless for seemingly no reason?  No wonder Sebastian likes this movie, this guy must be his role model, you thought as you chuckled to yourself.

Okay, they weren’t talking anymore… they were kissing.  That’s fine— good for them right?  It’s not weird to watch this right next to Sebastian… although it is weird that they’re still kissing...

Oh god.  This movie has a sex scene?  Why didn’t you remember this part?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him.  But that just meant you were staring down the screen, and didn’t that make it seem like you were really into Linda Hamilton getting sensually railed?  So you glanced to him to break the tension and nope, that definitely made it worse as you both suddenly made eye contact and then instantly looked away.  Your heart was racing for no particularly good reason, and your palms were all sweaty— just in time for his hand to brush against yours.  You didn’t want to jerk away for fear of seeming flighty.  Nothing wrong with the side of his hand touching yours, right?

Well, a lot of things were wrong with it, specifically the way that it was making your breaths short and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you didn’t want him to know any of that so you stayed still.

It seemed to go on forever, and it would’ve been laughably cheesy if you were with anyone else.  Normally, you had no trouble at all laughing with Sebastian, but this was different.  

“Această parte este... interesantă…” Sebastian mumbled.  

“I didn’t realize it was going to go on this long,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck.  “It’s probably good to break the silen— oh shit, that’s a boob!” you gasped.  “They can show this on TV?!”

Sebastian laughed a bit, apparently noticing how your change in tone conveniently coincided with the nip-slip.  

Just a few more minutes of excruciating awkwardness and it was over; you both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief when it ended.

“I thought it would never end,” you chuckled nervously.

“Nu fi gelos, ea nu este nimic în comparație cu tine,” he replied, still looking at you even though you were looking anywhere but back at him.  You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again after that— not that it had ever been easy for you.  But now that he was staring at you it felt even weirder to not look back.  So you did, just for a second, only to be startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

You jumped up from the bed, and Sebastian turned as well.

“Oh!” Mrs. Alberti gasped.  “I didn’t expect to see… both of you in here.”

“Ți-am răsturnat salteaua și ți-am schimbat așternutul,” Sebastian offered as he jumped up, motioning to the bed quickly.  What could he possibly mean by that?

“We were just watching some TV,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Alberti smiled.  “Well, Sebastian, that’ll be all, thank you,” she dismissed him with a smile and a little bow.  

“Mulțumesc. Bună seara,” Sebastian bowed in return, nodding at you before scurrying out of the room.  You started to leave as well, but Mrs. Alberti stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, were you two really just watching TV?” she asked quietly, eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah…” you replied, confused.

“Then why did you both jump up like I was interrupting something important?  Seriously, I was concerned you were in the middle of ruining the sheets he’d just put on for me.”

You choked but broke into an awkward grin.  “Uh, I’m not sure.  I guess you just startled us.”

“Yes, well, it’s my room, so you maybe shouldn’t be so surprised when I show up there next time.  You two have the whole house to yourselves, not sure why you had to come all the way over here—”

“Mrs. Alberti, really, it’s not like that,” you assured.

She squinted as she leaned in closer, examining your face.  With her incredibly short stature, she had to pull you down towards her to get a better look.  “Hmph,” she frowned suddenly, “I don’t think you’re lying.  Honestly?  I sort of wish you were.”

“Wh— why?” you stammered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I suppose I thought you two would make a handsome couple.”

“Yeah, well, he’d be doing most of the heavy lifting in that department,” you chuckled.

“You speak poorly of yourself too often,” she frowned again, slapping you on the shoulder.  “You’re perfectly deserving of someone like Sebastian.”

“Well, that’s sort of irrelevant, isn’t it?  We don’t even speak the same language,” you reminded her firmly.

“Did you and your ex-husband speak the same language?” 

You stopped, straightening up and looking back at her with wide eyes.

“I’m old,” she explained with a glimmer in her eye, “but I’m not stupid.  And I’m sorry that you’re going through that.”

“Um, thank you,” you mumbled, still shell shocked from her deduction and from hearing someone refer to your husband as your ex-husband for the first time.  You figured you should get into that habit soon, but it was difficult to imagine.  Even as much as you’d loved being here so far, part of you imagined that it was just a vacation, and soon you’d go home and go back to the life you’d had.  Of course you would go back home someday, it wasn’t like you were moving to the Hungarian countryside, but the home you’d be going back to was going to be entirely unrecognizable to you.  “And, to answer your question,” you continued, “of course my hu— ex-husband spoke English…”

Mrs. Alberti laughed, but in a sad way.  It was the saddest you’d seen her since you’d arrived, even more than when she’d told you about Mr. Alberti’s passing.  “Sweetheart,” she sighed, “obviously you both spoke English.  But I don’t think you spoke the same language at all.”

You furrowed your brows as you pondered that.  You’d known what she meant the first time she said it, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to accept it.  Mostly because it made you immediately realize that she was right about your marriage.  If only she’d thought to tell you before it had ended the way it did.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, stepping past you as you left her room, and her house, and stepped into the night.

You usually worked in your room, but it was feeling a little extra musty this morning so you decided to haul your typewriter to the lakeside and work in the sunshine and fresh air.  You could’ve asked Sebastian to lift it for you, but frankly, you'd been hoping to avoid Sebastian as he had been the biggest barrier to your writing progress so far.  And yet, with your luck, of course he would appear— and not to garden or hammer or do anything like that, but simply to bring you coffee.

"Cafea," he smiled as he offered you the mug.

You accepted it with a smile of your own, although you wondered if he could tell you were nervous.  "Thank you—”

You were cut off by him lifting your empty mug from this morning, which had been holding down all of your completed pages.  The wind inconveniently picked up at that moment, and instantly the pages were swept into the air and right towards the lake.

"Shit!" you yelped as you lept up, pushing him aside to run to the pier.  Still, you couldn't even get close to catching any of them, and watched helplessly as they fell into the water.

You felt yourself be shoved away and didn't realize until he was in the water that it was Sebastian, diving past you to swim after your papers.

"No, don't— it's not worth it!” you called out, but he ignored you, paddling ahead with all the determination and speed of a professional swimmer— maybe he was one before he did this, you wouldn’t know.  You chewed your nails and felt horrifically guilty for all the work he was doing, and with a burst of foreign courage, you found yourself shirking your cardigan and shirt to join him.  Maybe he didn’t mind getting his clothes wet with dirty lake water, but you did.  

As you shimmied your skirt down, he looked back at you and his eyes went a little wide.  When you woke up this morning, you had no intentions of stripping in front of Sebastian, let alone near-skinny dipping with him, but then again, you hadn’t planned on half your novel blowing away either.  

You tossed your clothes aside and took one last stabilizing breath before diving in.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” you screeched once your head was back above the surface, and you heard him laughing.  You weren’t particularly in a laughing mood as you tried to grab the soaked papers around you.

“Arăți ca o pisică care a căzut în cadă,” he chuckled as he swam closer again, holding a ball of wet parchment in his hand and grabbing a few more on the way.

After fishing a few final pages out of the reeds, the two of you awkwardly walked up to the shore.  Now that you were in your underwear with the wind blowing on you, you were jealous of his wet clothes which, while doing almost nothing, did at least shield him from the elements.

You dashed into the cottage side-by-side, like kids racing down the street— though really it was just a matter of self preservation.  When you did make it inside, you started to lay the papers flat on the table to at least start the drying process; you hadn’t even realized he’d left the room until he came back and wrapped a fluffy towel around you, giving you one of those gentle smiles that made your heart just melt.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, noticing the way his hands rested on your shoulders longer than they needed to.  Even through the terrycloth his hands felt strong, and warm, and his touch made you shiver in a way totally irrelevant to the cold.

“Cu plăcere,” he replied.

“It’s a shame you can’t understand me,” you sighed.  Only as you said it aloud did you realize that he did understand you; sure, he didn’t understand the words you were speaking, but, in a way no one else had before, he understood you.  Somehow.

“Nu vorbesc engleza, dar înțeleg limba iubirii,” he spoke softly, nearly a whisper.  “Și cred că înțelegeți și voi asta.”

Even with no idea what he was saying, the way that he was looking at you said even more.  You wanted to kiss him more than you'd wanted anything in a long time, but even in that wretchedly perfect moment you knew it wasn't worth the trouble.  First of all, you couldn't be sure that he felt anywhere near the same way about you.  Secondly, even if he did, this was exactly the wrong time— and place, now that you thought about it— to be starting something.  Thirdly, he probably didn't want to start something at all!  He was just a nice young man who did exceptionally stupid things in order to make you happy.  That's normal handyman stuff, right?

'Odd jobs,' that's what Mrs. Alberti had said he did for her, and for you by extension as a guest in her place.

"Cafea?" Sebastian offered you, stepping back towards the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you," you nodded quickly, smiling at him.  He smiled back and carded his fingers through his damp hair before disappearing into the kitchen to start a fresh pot.

Odd jobs indeed.

[ljandersen]

For the writing ask 12, 15, 16 and you can write more than 3 sentences for 15 because it would be hard to answer in just 3 sentences.

More questions! Yay! Thank you for sending me some fun ones. It's always interesting to dissect our writing craft, I think. This is from the Writer's Ask.

12. Any suggestions for making editing easier and/or more fun?

Oh, wow. I wish someone would share the secret, because I hate editing. I suspect it depends on personality and writing style how much editing is either enjoyed or hated. For me, the main things that help are: 1) letting a long time pass between the first draft and editing and 2) focusing on the eventual reward.

I know a lot of writers recommend letting your first draft cool because it gives a fresher view of it on re-read. I think that's true. I find myself catching more things. More importantly for me, though, with time passed, I'm more excited to read the story again and revisit the parts I loved. Being my own reader, I want to see what will happen and editing along the way is how I get there. That works at least for the second draft.

Delayed gratification is important for me. I only edit, because I intend to share the story with others. The first draft is for me. I enjoy it. After that, it's a chore. I keep readers in mind and the reward of their interactions while I edit. Reader interaction may not influence my currently posting project, because I don't post until I'm finished, but it does influence future projects. The current gratification I feel by sharing my finished work motivates me to edit my unposted stories. I think anticipating the gratification is key to keeping at it.

15. Summarize in 3 sentences or less what is important for you when it comes to climax scenes.

I think I can summarize this in one actually: Is it the most satisfying ending possible?

"Satisfying" encompasses so much. Was the pay out for the build up proportional and worth it? Is it the "best" imaginable ending? If it's not, then I'll change the whole story to match the most satisfying ending. It's important for me to identify barriers to it feeling satisfying. Are there elements that nag at the ending and take away from the sense of satisfaction. I try ot address those barriers through the course of the story, slowly peeling them away or maneuvering pieces to relieve the ending concern.

A lot of this is only possible for me, because the story isn't posted and can still be changed, even in major ways. Since I'm a discovery writer, there's a heavy burden on editing and rewriting to streamline the story. Though I always know my ending, I don't know how it will look and actually develop. I have to make adjustments after I can finally see the story as whole.

In the end, the most important part of a story's climax is how it leaves the readers. Are they satisfied? Does it feel like the natural conclusion of everything that lead up to it?

16. Share one piece of advise for how you create tension in your stories.

Foreshadow. I love subtext and double-meanings. I love hinting. I love giving half-answers. Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow -- I say! Don't shine the light right at the object, but bit by bit unveil it until the dim outline reveals itself in full. Anticipation and mystery are some of the most important elements of a story to me as a reader.

Thank you for the ask!!!

[mallowstep]

What are your opinions on forbidden relationships in Warriors? I've seen people label it as a "trope" because of how common this is. Some find the forbidden romance aspect intriguing, though others find it extremely repetitive and old

I'd like to know your thoughts!

hm. well, it is a trope. i mean, there's an average of one major one a series, right? greysilver, leafcrow (and others, but that's the big one), heatherlion (and implied others), tigerdove, idk i don't remember anything from avos but violetshine luv her but there's probably something, bristleroot. dotc doesn't count bc well it's dotc.

anyway.

definitely a trope.

but that's not a bad thing.

what i think people don't give warriors enough credit for is that these are not all the same forbidden romance. most of them are handled in different ways and bring up different conflicts. i understand why people are tired of them, but let's not discredit one of the only good things in warriors romance: that they make forbidden relationships different.

like, with grey and silver, it's about loyalty and responsibility. leafcrow is just bad idea central, both heatherlion and tigerdove are about responsibilities and young cats, and they have two different answers, and bristleroot is challenging the whole idea from the start.

so like. give credit where credit is due: we're not doing the same (forbidden) relationships again and again. i don't see enough people talk about that.

okay so it turns out i have um. a lot of thoughts about this. idk i just kept writing and now it's over 2k words. so you know. under the cut: matthew does half-baked media analysis to talk about why the code and cats' relationships to it are misunderstood. while actually staying on topic.

anyway from here on i'm just going to say relationship/romance, and understand that i'm generally talking about the forbidden kind. also i'm talking exclusively within the realm of warriors romance, which is, on average, bad. so when i say "X is good," i don't mean "X is good in general," i mean "given what we have, X is good." just to be clear.

right! basically, this is a tool. it creates tension and drama, and that's fine. warriors is a soap opera, remember. soap operas use secrets and relationships and all sorts of plot devices over and over again. warriors is not Serious. it can be dark. it has serious moments. but it is not a Serious Book Series for Serious Kids. it is a soap opera for Future Theatre Kids. yeah?

from that perspective, i'm a-ok with forbidden romance. (also, as a mini-aside, it creates some much-needed genetic diversity when kits are involved.) and again: all of the major relationships are different, so i think that's better than a lot of people give it credit for.

yeah, heatherlion and greysilver and tigerdove are all about the same general idea (loyalty and responsibility), but they all have different circumstances and different resolutions.

so like? yeah. sure. why not?

plus, like, who's reading warriors for the romance? i separate the concept of "romance" from a "relationship" here: i like the relationships in warriors (ivy and dove tension my beloved), but i'm not here to read about tigerheart wooing dovewing. (yes, i do love the tigerdove scenes in oots. no, that's not because i think they're very good at being romantic.)

but i digress.

if warriors was a Serious Book Series for Serious Kids, i'd have a different take here. having been in an IRL forbidden relationship, i have the Personal Insight and Experience to say they're this weird mash of "very much how it feels" and "not at all how it feels."

tigerdove is probably my favourite bc it's the closest to my circumstances, and i think dovewing is a good pov. i like how she breaks up with him because it's a bad idea, but that's not the same thing as not feeling for him.

(heh. twelve-year-old me reading oots like "this will never apply to my life" what did you know)

but to the point, if warriors was serious, i'd point out that the consequences always seem to be internal. we haven't seen characters be punished for their actions. and so on.

but warriors is a soap opera.

and here's my actual thesis: we haven't seen characters be punished for their actions, because "forbidden relationships" are a normal and expected part of clan society.

like no, fandom-at-large, you're kind of missing the point. okay, you know how like. people complain about. idk. ivypool and fernsong being distantly related?

(third aside/very long ivyfern rant, i put a nice big "rant over" after it if you want to skip past it: they're third cousins. they share, max, 2.2% of their genetics. they are fine. do you know your third cousins? do you? yeah. and like. they live in a closed society. there is no one new.

i've never seen someone complain about forbidden romance and ivyfern at the same time, and i do generally agree we should have more mystery fathers, altho for a different reason, but like. idk. this bothers me.

their last shared relative was nutmeg. that's so far back. god. i get it, there was a prophecy saying they're related, but if you remember my rant about how dovewing shouldn't be a part of the prophecy because of how distantly related to firestar is, you know how i feel about that already.

complaining they're related and that's a problem is. deep breath here. it requires demonstrating that warriors has kept track of kinship all the way back to firestar's mother. and even if you wave that requirement, you still have to convince me they would care about that. this isn't a "they're cats, harold" situation, this is a "you would not know your third cousin even if you lived in the same town" situation.

i mean maybe you would. some people do. but my hometown has generations of people who married within its borders. you get as far as "cousin," maybe "second cousin" if you're feeling fancy. i'm not trying to make an always true statement, i just. every time i see someone complain about ivyfern being related, it strikes me as not understanding how extended families work?

i know third cousins isn't technically classified as a distant relative, but you have, on average, 190 third cousins. i feel so strongly about this i looked it up.

like i'm not. okay if you say, "I don't ship ivyfern because they are third cousins and that makes me uncomfortable" you are Valid. in general, you are all valid. i do not think you have to, on a personal level, be okay with ivyfern. you are free to do as you wish.

but. if you want to argue "ivyfern is a Bad Ship because they are third cousins" you have a hell of a burden of proof. simply saying "they share a great-great-grandmother" does not meet that, because like. yeah. we're all pretty damn related.)

(ivyfern rant over)

IVYFERN RANT OVER

right so. anyway. if you remove forbidden romance? you're forcing a lot more of those situations.

i've been messing around with modelling some small-scale fan clan-adjacent stuff to double-check the ratios for wbcd, and it's. it quickly becomes a necessity, is what i'm saying.

but i got distracted like. researching how related third cousins are. my point is not about that, that's like. a different topic. that i crammed into here because i have no self-control.

no, no, what i was trying to get to is: oakheart straight up tells us that cats have half-clan kits all the time, it's not a problem, no one talks about it. and that? that is exactly what we see modelled by warriors.

the only reason greystripe and silverstream have a problem is that silverstream dies and greystripe claims the kits. i feel very strongly that if she had lived, the kits would have been born and raised riverclan kits, that might, maybe, one day, guess who their father is.

we haven't had any half clan kits in a while, which yes! i think is a problem, but like. the fact that the three are medicine cat kits seems to be a bigger issue. which feels right.

and i'm not trying to argue what i think should be, i legitimately believe the text of warriors defends this, even in newer books which throw out a lot of the older world building in favour of more human-like conflict.

as readers, we are naturally following protagonists. we are following the interesting story. but imagine you're just a background riverclan cat. minnowtail, if you will. do you think, do you honestly think, anyone cares about minnowtail?

not in a bad way, just. if she's meeting up with mousewhisker at night, do you think anyone cares? of course not! no one cares. she's not a Protagonist. her kits aren't going to be prophesized about.

heck, finleap switches clans! and it's barely a big deal. it feels like one, but when's the last time anyone bothered dealing with it? that's what i thought.

(also i forgot like all of avos so that very last point might be a bad one if it is my argument stands i just literally do not remember anything in avos but violetshine. none. zero.)

but it's easy to get caught up with characters like hollyleaf and bristlefrost and forget that like. not everyone cares about the code. most of our protagonists do, because it's become mostly equivalent with being moral. and i have an essay draft titled "the code as religion vs the code as law" where i want to expand on this more, but i think like. that idea, that we as readers should use the code as a way of evaluating cats' behaviour, is flawed.

like, i'm not talking about being inconsistent with how that is applied. if you want to say, "the trial leafpool goes through for having half-clan kits is legitimate because of the code," i still think your approach is flawed.

because the cats themselves don't seem to think that way.

the code doesn't, to me, feel like the ten commandments. it does not feel like "you must do this to be a good cat."

rather, it feels like aesop's parables. "here are mistakes cats made and what we do instead of that."

i don't think the cats know the code the way we do. i do not think they memorize a list of rules as kits. i think they know what is and is not part of it, but i imagine they know the stories far more than the rules.

(i'm working on my lore stories to replace code of the clans.)

and even if that's my thoughts, i do think this is supported by the text. no one ever teaches the warrior code, cats just learn it in pieces. "don't waste food because we don't have enough to spare" is taught, not "there's a rule about food and starclan on the code."

that's why the whole arc of the broken code even works: the reason the imposter is able to manipulate things is because cats don't treat the code as a rigid set of rules and commandments, but guiding principles.

the parts of the code that we tend to focus on the most are relationships, apprentices, and battle. or that's my perception. i didn't do a poll to obtain that. there's also the leader's word, but readers don't usually think of that as a good rule, so i'm not including it.

but the parts the cats focus on most are food, territory, and the leader's word. which makes sense: those are basic needs: food, security, and...i don't want to say authority so much as some kind of social system. explaining it would be a whole thing. just trust with me, if you don't mind.

i don't think we have any real reason to believe cats care about half-clan relationships half as much as we do. yes, apprentices are chastized about it, but that's not really the same thing as being punished.

and it's hard to tell, because apprentices being punished has really fallen off, and that's kind of the problem with any argument i try to make about warriors, but.

wow.

i'm actually still on topic? i'm 2k words in and i'm still on topic? a day i never thought would come.

let's wrap this up. cats seem to care about half clan relationships in that: a) they lead to conflicted loyalties, b) they mess with borders and prey, and c) they are in the code as bad. in that order.

and again, if the code was some high and holy religious doctrine, we couldn't have the broken code as an arc. it does not work if the cats are already following it to a t, and know it word for word, because it's signfiicantly harder to manipulate people if they do.

not to the level the imposter does, at the speed he does.

and yes, you could argue that it's more bad writing, but. i think that discredits warriors. yeah, it sure has its fair share of bad writing, but i don't think that's in the way the imposter works. instead, he seizes on a big important doctrine that's nebulous, and uses that to control people.

and that? that feels much more interesting.

so with that in mind, i don't think the cats would care about your typical, non-protagonist forbidden relationship, and i don't think we should, either.

as far as a plot device, i think we're okay with what we have. don't get me wrong, i understand why people are tired of it, but i think we also should remember that warriors is not repeating itself. having multiple forbidden relationships is not repetitive. now, if medicine cats were having half-clan kits every series, i'd make a different argument.

but all of the major forbidden relationships have different outcomes, lessons, and circumstances, and for me, i think that's signficantly interesting.

i didn't really check sources and quotes for this, so like, if you spotted something wrong, feel free to correct me. my overall point stands, but there's a lot of warriors and i have a bad memory, so i could have missed somthing major.

[somesaycosmo]

laurence, the first vicar - an analysis

hi! this is future marie, when i'm going back through and finalizing my draft of this post. this was originally meant to just be an analysis of laurence's song, but it turned into more than that, so just bear with it!

"oh look it's my favorite boss soundtrack in soulsborne! thankfully, bloodborne is a very simple game with straightforward lore, and the lyrics of its tracks are similarly straightforward, so there's not much to analyze here." -a quote from an alternate universe marie who was blessed with a game that didn't give her frenzy

"bloodborne's tracks have lyrics?" you might ask - and yes, in fact, they do! many of them have choral lyrics in latin, including mr laurence "i forgot the sacred adage" lastname's track here.

before we start, please listen to the song, if only because it's very good

this post is using the translated lyrics from this bloodborne wiki, while taking some liberties with the interpretation based on the game's lore. i do not know latin, but if anyone does, i'd love for them to hit me up. i'm also going to specifically tag @rococospade-main, both to shout them out for being great to discuss bloodborne lore with (it's where i got the idea to write this post)

as always, lore starts below the line

so the song starts with 4 lines, as follows

Children, know that if you will abide by the sacred rite with great commitment There will be a reward through the Holy Blood You will be rewarded with the hidden Holy Blood Or, maybe I shall lose my humanity through the Holy Blood

already starting off strong with the "questioning one's faith" vibes, eh, larry?

"children" might be in reference to actual children, or it might be the thing priests do, where they're called "father" and stuff (can you tell i'm not christian?) with laurence in this case being the "father" and the disciples of the church being his "children"

the reward from the holy blood is, of course, ascension, which we all know everyone from byrgenwerth strived for, because they're losers. "hidden holy blood" might be in reference to ebrietas bein all locked up in the chalice dungeons?

"maybe i shall lose my humanity through the holy blood" is, based on how early it is in the song, likely about laurence looking forward; loss of humanity is seen as a good thing, because it means ascension. the dramatic irony of this is of course obvious, considering the song plays when we're beating the shit out of laurence's fallen and bestial form - because loss of humanity can also mean other things, it turns out.

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy You are obsessed with this mystery And you shall be overcome by bestiality

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy We are hindered by this mystery Water does not achieve success

now laurence is speaking to the gods instead of to his followers. "we honor you with blood / yet you judge this as blasphemy" is likely him pleading to the gods. the description of the defiled chalice reads, "Curses are caused by inciting the anger of the Great Ones, and used to hex others." this paints a picture of the gods as somewhat vengeful; it makes sense that the beastly scourge, then, would be hypothesized to be a plague cast upon humanity for some sin they've committed, and laurence would know best what exactly that sin is.

"you are obsessed with this mystery / and you shall be overcome by bestiality" seems out of place in the rest of this section, given it's the only one that refers to humanity as "you," but i've taken this as it being the gods replying to laurence in the song, with the mystery likely being "how to ascend to godhood". this is the blasphemy you have committed, they say, and you shall be overcome by bestiality

"we are hindered by this mystery" once again, we're talking from laurence's perspective. firstly, laurence for the first time admits that obsession with ascension might not be so great, actually.

"water does not achieve success" this could be interpreted as talking about the whole "great bodies of water are often bulwarks" thing discussed in the lake and sea runes, laurence sort of saying "protecting ourselves from the truth does nothing to help us ascend," with water, effectively, being "safety." to go further, in my personal interpretation, this is more about the comparison of blood and water. you know that old saying, "blood is thicker than water"? that came to mind immediately while reading these lyrics, given the constant talking about blood in the song (and in the game). perhaps here laurence is comparing water to blood with water, water being "safety" and blood being "success" (ascension). to reference the item description for the white church set, "They believe that medicine is not a means of treatment but rather a method for research, and that some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness." this will come up later.

By the Gods, friend Be afraid By the Gods, friend The Blood Be afraid You are right to

this is familiar! this could be willem speaking, this could be laurence speaking to someone else, or this could be laurence speaking to himself (my writer's brain imagines him muttering this quietly to himself in despair as his mental health and questioning of his faith declines) - due to "you are right to [fear the blood]," i lean towards him talking to himself as if talking to willem, perhaps wishing he had actually feared the old blood, or saying that willem is better off for doing so. regardless, it is incredibly reminiscent of the sacred adage ("fear the old blood" etc etc we all know it by heart at this point), and is likely supposed to be that.

It will be a majestic festivity By the Holy Blood So come, this sweet wine O defiled juice (this has to mean "wine" or "drink" i refuse to believe laurence would refer to the holy blood as a juice. i will not allow it)

this one, oddly, seems to indicate a toneshift - i would argue it's a result of his spiraling mental state. throughout the song he's questioning his faith and his actions, chanting his old mentor's sacred adage to himself; his life up to this point is a life of success while the cure and path to ascension he was peddling to yharnam turns them into horrific beasts. so he ends up doubling down on the religious fervor he started this endeavor with. this delves more into headcanon territory, so bear with me for a second:

have you ever thought about why laurence drops the beast's embrace rune?

laurence, the first vicar, the first cleric beast, drops the rune that allows you to enter a state of controlled beasthood whenever you want (provided you use a beastly weapon, of course). isn't that odd? shouldn't he drop something that, like, increases the amount blood vials heal you? maybe super duper extra special communion +6? why would he drop that rune, of all things, especially when the game already has a named character they could've put in to drop it (that being irreverent izzy)?

let's look at the item description.

After the repeated experiments in controlling the scourge of beasts, the gentle "Embrace" rune was discovered.

When its implementation failed, the "Embrace" became a forbidden rune, but this knowledge became a foundation of the Healing Church.

now i am not necessarily going to suggest that laurence dreamed up the beast's embrace rune himself - it could make sense, but that isn't necessary for the rest of what i'm about to say, which is this: the last part of the song is laurence giving into beasthood voluntarily.

perhaps he believed so strongly in the blood of ebrietas taking him to ascension that he decided beasthood must be it, must be the next step for humanity; perhaps, in a final move of desperation, he tried to control beasthood by experimenting on himself with this rune; or perhaps he had already imbibed so much of the old blood that he couldn't control his need to spill the blood of others.

personally, i lean toward the second interpretation. let's look at the description of laurence's (human) skull:

Skull of Laurence, first vicar of the Healing Church. In reality he became the first cleric beast, and his human skull only exists within the Nightmare.

The skull is a symbol of Laurence's past, and what he failed to protect. He is destined to seek his skull, but even if he found it, it could never restore his memories.

firstly, i'd just like to point out the irony in the statement "he is destined to seek his skull"; he spends his human life seeking ascension, and when he achieves metamorphosis, he is cursed to spend that form trying to find his humanity again, mindless, lost in a nightmare.

secondly, and more to the point, let's look at the line "a symbol of laurence's past, and what he failed to protect." examining this item for its symbolism is fairly clear - it's a relic of laurence's humanity, and that's exactly what he failed to protect, the humanity of himself and others. this description leads me to believe he wanted to protect humanity, but failed.

a lot of interpretations of him have him as this truly evil person who was just deceiving the city of yharnam for his own personal gain, but honestly, i don't buy that. that's not what bloodborne is about. i mean bloodborne is and can be about a lot of things, and i could ascribe dozens of basic thematic interpretations of it off the top of my head, but characterization that simple doesn't fit bloodborne (and, frankly, it's not tragic enough for miyazaki).

so, with all that combined, why do i believe that laurence branded himself with beast's embrace in an attempt to further research on the control of beasthood, so as to protect humanity? well, to go back to an item description from earlier, some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness.

thank you for reading.

[breynekai-tfc]

Threw all my stories into picker wheel, and it told me to write “Hunger”, so I said, “Okay, mysterious forces of the universe, I’ll write that first chapter.”  

Not even one page in, and I’ve made myself cry.  

That’s how you know it’s good.  👍

---------

Here’s some insights.  Welcome to the Parasite AU.   Let’s meet the Armageddon Worm.  

In this AU, Danny Fenton is living in Amity Park, which is one of the last civilizations on the planet.  About 20 years earlier, a parasite appeared.

This parasite is carried by animals but does not affect them in any way.  Mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians; there is nothing that does not become a carrier.  Soon, the entire ecosystem is infected, across the globe.  

Animals carry the parasite, but it thrives in humans.  It enters the human body when humans ingest meat.  The parasite is a nasty little guy, too; like the tardigrade, they can withstand extreme temperatures, radiation, vast amounts of pressure, and can go for ten years (or more) without food or water and still be able to bounce back and reproduce.  In the human body, they can utilize blood and energy to rapidly heal their hosts.  Really, the only way to kill a human infested with the parasite is to destroy the brain (thus rendering the nervous system useless) and then destroy the body by incineration at a high temperature.  Cutting out the parasite is ineffective, because it has infected the blood and will simply grow back.  Also, removing it from the nervous system is almost always fatal to the host. 

Once inside a human, it begins growing in their stomachs and hijacks their nervous system.  It eats and replaces the majority of their internal organs, leaving only the heart and lungs behind.  The host gains heightened senses and physical abilities and miraculous regenerative abilities, but they become ruled by hunger and lose most of their cognitive function.  

In the final stage of its development, the parasite processes the consumed organs, expands its size, attaches itself to the severed blood vessels, and finishes developing the iconic “devouring arm”.  The arm sits at the base of the throat, and during feeding/hunting, can extend from the host’s mouth and use its sharp masticators to cut food and the internal teeth to move it into the main body of the parasite.  There, the food is processed for energy, and anything the body can’t use is hacked up.  Very soon after ejecting the waste, high levels of ghrelin are produced, and the host is once again stimulated to hunt.

(Think Guillermo del Toro’s “The Strain”, except they’re not vampires.)  

Anyhow, about 20 years ago, this parasite appeared.  It can infect humans through bites from one to another, contact with infected blood, or ingesting an infected animal; so for some time, people did not know where it was coming from.  Birds, insects, fish, and international shipping methods helped to infect the whole world within a few weeks.  Chaos and violence ensued, and even when people had no contact with the infected, cases continued.  

Scientists had conflicting reports of what carried the parasite.  Certain insects.  Rodents.  Birds.  Biologist Maddie Fenton, working with her husband Jack, made the connection.  They tested a number of species, and realized that ALL non-human animal species larger than houseflies were carriers.  

At this point, civilization had already broken down.  But they spread the word, and soon, strongholds were able to develop, including Amity Park, the stronghold of the Midwest.  It consists of two concentric structures; the center is a bubble-city, with artificial atmosphere, weather, and farming techniques.  Anyone who goes in is sterilized before entry, so that they can’t bring insects inside.  The second layer is a mile-thick area of suburban ruin, which has been cleared of Eaters.  It is surrounded by a wall, for defense.  If there is a breach, the hope is that this inner region will allow a barrier against the main city, a safe zone to hunt the Biters while the wall is repaired.  This ruin is called the Outskirts of Amity Park.   

Jack and Maddie Fenton developed the city’s defenses, while Damon Gray leads the community in food production for a safe and vegan lifestyle.  The Fentons continue to produce weapons against the infected and are trying to find a way to eradicate the parasite from the ecosystem.  So far, 20 years have passed, and they have made little progress.

Enter Danny, Sam, and Tucker.  Despite the world having gone to hell in a handbasket, they are teenagers who are going to school.  While some of their lessons are traditional, many involve science and technology, and P.E. supplements a soldier training period for those who wish to battle against the Biters on the outside.  They train in high school, run missions outside the wall for one year, guard the wall for one year, patrol the Outskirts for one year, and those who are still alive move to the inner city to become guards there or decide where to be stationed as a general.  (I imagine Jazz training to be a psychiatrist for PTSD sufferers.)  A certain number of people have to apply for the program when they enter high school.  If they don’t, there is a mandatory draft.    

Danny lives under the shadow of his parents’ great success and subsequent frustrations.  He feels like he should doing something useful to help the town, but he’s a bit of a dreamer instead.  He is really interested in the world from before he was born and spends much of his time looking into it.  Researching at the library – watching old news reports and movies – exploring ruins in the inner-wall region.  He thinks it’s amazing that people once went to outer space.  Now, they’ll never leave Amity Park.  

Tucker and Sam are his friends, of course.  Tucker is really interested in technology and is training to enter the weapons and communication development field.  Sam is into plant sciences and wants to enter the field of food science.  Danny – well, he honestly doesn’t know.  He figured he would train to be a soldier, but then his parents forbid it.  No big loss there – he isn’t the most physically adept person.  But, he doesn’t seem to have a calling, besides history.  Mr. Lancer thinks he should be a teacher. 

But of course, he wouldn’t be Danny Fenton if he didn’t somehow lose his humanity.  

🙈 

That’s as much as I’ll share for the premise without getting into any important spoilers.  Inspiration for this au from:  The Strain, Attack on Titan, Ao no Exorcist, D.Gray Man, and a fanfic I was writing for Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters back in college.