#it just painted such a vivid scene in my mind

[marmotish]

What about a what if scenario involving Rowan, if she had lived?

Like, she and Freyja might have drifted apart and found new friends they connected with, only to reunite years later in their respective careers, and they catch up in a café, reminiscing about their school days, discussing their current jobs/lifestyles (Wow! Rowan has started a family of her own and she’s expecting any week now? And she is a professor in Koldovstoretz? Yes that is a wizarding school. In Russia. Wow. How time flies.), and it’s like they have become best friends all over again, but more mature and content in the person they have each grown to be in the paths that they followed. Sadly, time flies, and they both have places to be, but they both exchange information and are determined to keep in touch even if it may not be a constant basis. They both hug each other goodbye, and Rowan whispers in her ear: “Always remember, Freyja...”

“It’s all your fault.”

AVADA KEDAVRA!!

Rowan krumples in Freyja’s arms, the same expression of terror and pain frozen on her face as it was in their 6th year, Rakepick’s cold chuckling echoing all around them as the sweet café gets shattered and destroyed by suddenly growing trees straight from the Forbidden Forest. Freyja tries desperately to revive Rowan, as dementors bloom out of the immense shadows cast by the looming trees, circling overhead as they near Freyja, and all she can hear as the darkness closes in and whatever is left of the light glows green in Rowan’s dead eyes are: It’s all your fault.

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Freyja wakes up.

@ anon - It’s a been ages since i’ve done some proper proper angst so I really just wanted to leave it at the waking up bit, but I appreciate your follow-up ask all the same!

no need to apologise, it didn’t freak me out. ☺️

[ihopeucomehomesoon]

this morning in the thirty minutes between my first alarm and second alarm i had a dream that felt like five hours long

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Beginners Guide to Descriptive Sentences

Hi writers.

I’m Rin T, and in this post I’m excited to share with you a detailed guide on how to craft vivid descriptions and descriptive sentences for your writing. I’ve long believed that descriptive writing is the magic that turns ordinary text into an immersive experience. When done well, every sentence acts like a brushstroke that paints a scene in the reader’s mind.

──────────────────────────── Why Descriptive Writing Matters ────────────────────────────

I have seen how powerful descriptions can engage readers and establish a strong connection with the narrative. Descriptive writing is not simply about decorating your work; it is about building an atmosphere that transports your reader to a world. your world.

When you write descriptions, remember:

You are setting the tone.

You are building a world.

You are evoking emotions.

You are inviting your readers to experience your story with all their senses.

──────────────────────────── Step-by-Step: Crafting Vivid Descriptions ────────────────────────────

Below are my personal tips and tricks to help you build detailed and captivating descriptions:

Begin With the Senses

Description does not solely depend on what the eyes can see. Consider sound, smell, taste, and touch. For instance, instead of writing “The witch’s hut was eerie,” try elaborating: “The witch’s hut exuded an eerie aura. The creaking timber and distant echoes of whispering winds mingled with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and mysterious herbs.” In this way, you help the reader not only see the scene but also feel it.

Choose Precise and Evocative Language

Precision in language is vital. Replace generic adjectives with specific details to boost clarity and imagery. Rather than “The forest was dark,” consider: “The forest was a labyrinth of shadowed boughs and muted undergrowth, where the light barely touched the spindly branches, and every step unveiled whispers of ancient spells.” Specific details create tangible images that stay with readers.

Show, Don’t Just Tell

A common mistake is to “tell” the reader how to feel, rather than “showing” it through context and detail. Instead of writing “It was a spooky night,” immerse your reader: “Under a pallid crescent moon, the night unfurled like a canvas of foreboding whispers; broken branches and rustling leaves narrated the secrets of a long-forgotten curse.” By showing the elements, you invite the reader to experience the fear and mystery firsthand. (You don't need to be as dramatic as my examples, but this is simply for inspiration)

Use Figurative Language Thoughtfully

Metaphors, similes, and other figures of speech lend an artistic flair to your descriptions. When writing about a scene in a magical world, you might say: “Her eyes shone like twin beacons of moonlit silver, cutting through the gloom as if to part the veil of night itself.” Such comparisons evoke emotions and deepen the reader’s connection with the scene. However, be cautious not to overdo it; a little figurative language can go a long way.

Strike a Balance Between Details and Pacing

While elaborate descriptions are alluring, too many details can weigh down your narrative. Consider introducing the broader scene first and then focusing on key elements that define the mood. For instance, start with an overview: “The village lay nestled between ancient stone arches and mist-covered hills.” Then, zoom into details: “A solitary, ivy-clad tower sent spiraling tendrils of mist into the twilight, as if guarding secrets of a long-lost incantation.” This technique creates a rhythm, drawing readers in gradually.

──────────────────────────── Practical Exercises to Enhance Your Descriptive Writing ────────────────────────────

To help you practice these techniques, try the following exercises:

Sensory Detail Drill: Select a familiar scene from your fantasy world (for example, a witch’s secluded garden). Write a short paragraph focusing on each of the five senses. What do you taste as you bite into a magical fruit? What sounds resonate in the quiet of the enchanted night? This drill helps you to avoid flat descriptions and encourages you to integrate sensory experiences.

Revision and Refinement: Take a simple sentence like “The night was cold,” and transform it using the advice above. Rework it into something like, “The night was a canvas of shimmering frost and darkness, where every breath of the wind carried a hint of winter’s sorrow.” Compare the two, and notice how minor adjustments can dramatically heighten the mood.

Peer Review Sessions: Sharing your work can offer invaluable insights. Exchange your descriptions with fellow writers and ask for focused feedback, Does the description evoke the intended emotion? Does it deliver a clear image? Use these sessions as opportunities to improve and refine your craft.

──────────────────────────── Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them ────────────────────────────

Through my years of writing, I've learned that even the most passionate writers can stumble. Here are some pitfalls to watch out for:

Overloading With Adjectives: While it’s tempting to create elaborate descriptions, too many adjectives and adverbs can distract rather than enhance. Aim for clarity and purpose in every word. Instead of “a very dark, spooky, frightening forest filled with creepy sounds,” try “a forest shrouded in ominous silence, where every rustle hinted at unseen mysteries.”

Falling Into Clichés: Familiar images can sometimes render your work predictable. Try to avoid worn phrases. Instead of “as dark as night,” imagine “as impenetrable as the void that separates worlds.” Unique expressions capture attention and create lasting impressions.

Neglecting the Flow: Descriptions are vital, but the narrative must continue to drive forward. Check that your detailed passages serve to enhance the storyline rather than bog it down. Ask yourself: Does this description bring the reader closer to the action, or does it detract from the momentum of the narrative?

──────────────────────────── Advanced Techniques for the Aspiring Writer ────────────────────────────

Once you’re comfortable with the basics, consider these advanced methods to elevate your descriptions into artful prose:

Integrate Descriptions Seamlessly: Instead of isolating your descriptions, weave them into dialogue and action. For example, as a witch brews her potion, you might describe the bubbling cauldron and swirling mists as part of her incantation, not just as a standalone scene. “As she whispered the ancient words, the cauldron responded, its surface rippling like a dark mirror reflecting centuries of secrets.”

Reflect Character Perspectives: Let your characters’ emotions color the scene. If a character fears a looming threat, their perception will add a layer of tension to the environment. “I entered the dim corridor with trepidation, my heart pounding as the flickering torchlight revealed spectral figures dancing along the walls.” This technique makes the description both situational and personal.

Use Rhythm: The cadence of your sentences can mirror the pace of your narrative. In high-tension moments, short, abrupt sentences heighten the urgency. Conversely, in serene scenes, longer, flowing sentences can create a tranquil atmosphere. Experiment with sentence structure until you find a balance that suits both your style and the mood you wish to convey.

──────────────────────────── Final Thoughts and Encouragement ────────────────────────────

your narrative is your unique creation. you too will find your distinctive voice. I encourage you to keep experimenting with different techniques until your descriptions feel both natural and mesmerizing. Write freely, revise diligently, and most importantly, let your creative spirit shine through every line.

Thank you for joining me. I hope these tips can help you.

[pseudowho]

"Kento, can you play this game for me?"

Putting his shoes in the rack, and loosening his tie with two fingers, Kento's hands magnetised to your hips, and his lips to your forehead.

He hummed at the plastic-sealed game in your hands.

"I may be wrong, but I believe the enjoyment of a game comes through playing it yourself."

The game cover was a jagged mash of reds and blacks-- something grotesque, Kento had no doubt-- and you grimaced, apologetic.

"The thing is, I want to play it, but I just...can't. I don't think I could handle it, but...I could watch?"

Kento looked flatly at the game case. Your words still didn't seem to register.

"...you...just want to watch?"

"Yes."

"Watch me play it?"

"Yes."

"Wh-- ...never mind. Alright. I'll play it for you."

You gasped in joy, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek, and jumping onto the sofa. Kento huffed, his half-smile painting his irritation as false. With bags of sweets, snacks, fluffy blankets and the lights off, you had clearly placed money on him saying yes.

Kento sat, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, and watching you set the game up.

"It's a horror, I assume?"

"You assume right. You've got a camera, and there are ghosts, and an abandoned creepy village and you're trapped--"

A cool hum, unfazed. Kento leaned back, unbothered as the title screen opened, and he clicked through settings, suddenly sixteen again. The game began, the cut scene telling a tale of woe, and the barest hints of the dreadful, mangled spirits to come.

You chirped, hiding all of your toes beneath a blanket. Your body pressed to Kento's side, and he grunted, sweeping your legs over his lap without looking away from the screen. You crammed a sweet into your mouth, adorably wide-eyed enough to make Kento huff with a crooked smile.

You were an easy target for games like this; your vivid imagination and skittishness fell victim to haunting ambience, hook, line and sinker. Kento was safe-- slick, analytical, more method than man.

By the first ghosts, you threatened to pull the blanket over your eyes.

By the first fight, you jumped hard enough to upend popcorn all over Kento's lap, squealing and flapping your hands as Kento chastised you ("Darling-- you're a Sorcerer, for god's sake--").

By the boss fight, you had buried your face in Kento's neck, your arms throttling him as you clung for dear life. Kento grunted again, as concentrated as he was as a teenager, and paused the game for just long enough to lift you into his lap, rest his chin on your head and finish the fight. Two broad arms bracketed you, while clever fingers did their duty.

Kento finished the fight. He breathed out, completely unshaken, and looked down at you mulishly, gently scolding. You swallowed hard to feel him twitch inside his pants against your lower back. His voice was gravelly, the room still bathed in ghoulish light.

"I think that's quite enough for one night."

You looked up at him, suppressing laughter at yourself. Your voice was sickeningly sweet, coy, and you stroked your fingers down his chest, whispering.

"My hero."

Another hum, and a rumbling moan as your fingers hit his zipper. Kento took his spoils, your kisses a boon, and pressed you back into the sofa, deepening his kiss until his tongue stroked for entry, and you felt molten promise pit in your belly.

Without warning, Kento pulled back with a sigh. He sat in the corner of the sofa, mellowsoft eyes on you in a determined half-smile. Your mouth watered as he unzipped himself, hooked his aching cock out and held it in his palm. He offered one slow stroke, a bead of pre cum trickling down his fingers.

As you crawled towards him, Kento held up his other hand to halt. You obeyed, close to a whimper, as Kento scolded you, and began stroking himself to a ragged moan and spreading thighs.

"Ah ah ah. I thought you liked to watch?"

[starkeyisthelastname]

based after this scene in season one 💦 sucking stepbro!rafe off 👅

Your legs swung back and forth as you patiently waited on your stepbrother’s bed, waiting for him to get done talking about something with Ward. You knew he didn’t necessarily like anyone in his room without him knowing, but you just had to tell him what was on your mind. The sound of footsteps pulled you from your thoughts, watching as the door opened and in walked Rafe. He let out a small snort as he saw you, shaking his head as he grabbed the keys to his bike. “What are you doing in here?” He asked, mind focused on something else at the moment.

As fucking pretty you looked, he had plans to go to the Southside to Barry’s to get some blow before Topper’s party that night. He watched as you bit your glossy bottom lip, looking down at your pink painted toes. He let out a huff, already irritated from the berating from his dad. “What’d I tell you about coming in here?” He asked.

The truth was that behind the walls of Tannyhill, Rafe Cameron was starting to teach his innocent stepsister some nasty things. It was wrong, he absolutely knew that. You on the other hand, were so curious to learn more from him as he knew best. You couldn’t help yourself, the memory of him teaching you how to suck him off, vivid in your mind. You felt the blush come to your cheeks, your eyes meeting his blue ones. “I.. I wanna do that thing again.” You spoke shyly, watching as he crossed his arms.

Rafe leaned against his desk, raising a brow as he became a little more focused on you. He’d been wanting to corrupt you for a while now, your saint like ways making it an even bigger turn on for him to want to ruin you. “And what thing is that?” He asked, tone a little taunting. Maybe going to get coke could hold off for a few, he had some time.

“I wanna-ummm… suck it again.” You said quietly, a little ashamed as you held back from saying the word he told you it was called.

Not moving from his place against the desk, he nodded his head slowly with a hum to hold back his grin. “Suck what again? My dick?” He asked, already feeling the ache run down to his balls. Oh this was going to be easy. One lesson and you already were feening for more. You nodded your head eagerly, tits bouncing in the tank top you wore which his eyes went to before back to your beautiful face. He laughed, giving you an amused look as he uncrossed his arms. “You want it so bad then come get it.” He said, reaching over to shut the door and lock it.

You giggled, hopping off the bed and sinking down to your knees in front of him. He looked even more giant from this angle, staring down at you as you popped the button open of his khaki shorts and pulled the zipper down. Pulling his pretty cock out, it nearly smacked you in the face. You wrapped your delicate hand around it, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Go ahead, put it in your mouth little slut.” He drawled out, watching you slowly wrap your lips around the tip. It was quite the sight to see again, taking the back of your head to shove it down more. You gagged around him, trying to pull back from the grip he had on your hair. “You’re fine. Breathe your nose.” He said, thrusting his hips forward.

You did as he told you, breathing your nose as he began sliding his cock in and out of your mouth. He let an almost amused laugh as he watched his thick meat stretch your pretty lips open. The way you had your hands behind your back already like a good little obedient slut he was about to start training even more. “Fuck yes… you like getting your throat fucked by your stepbrother?” He asked, pulling out and slapping his dick against your tongue.

“Y-es.” You squeaked out, desperately opening your mouth for him to shove it back down your wanting throat.

Rafe slid his fat cock back in your wet mouth, letting his hand roughly grab the back of your head to push down his entire massive length. You placed your hands on either side of his hips, whining around him as he continued to hold you there. Maybe he was taking out his frustrations about his dad out on you, but then again you wanted this and he was enjoying it too much.

“Don’t try and back out now sis, you were sneaking in here just to get some dick down your throat. Remember?” He said, pulling out so that you could catch your breath for a second, only to slam back in your mouth. “Oh yeah and after Top’s party tonight, you’re gonna learn to take your stepbrother’s dick in your pussy.”

[nanaslutt]

do u have any tips on how to be a better writer? or improve? idkk I don't think I'm that good.. like urs is do whimsical and majestic and im sitting here wondering on how u make urs so magical..... do NOT gatekeep nana 😓😓

i have an incredibly vivid imagination so when i write it’s like the scene is playing out in my mind so that helps tremendously

try to extend scenes by describing what the reader/mc is feeling or seeing and really elaborate on it, go into detail and paint a picture for the reader don’t just say “he looked needy” say “his pupils were blown out as he sat back on his knees, he had an almost pleading look in his eyes like he was desperate for my next instruction” see how much better that sounds? it paints a more vivid picture for ur reader

when ur describing scenery or positions that ur reader is in, write it out to the best of your ability then go back and reread it like a reader would and see if you can picture the position/scenery from what u said alone, if not u should be more descriptive

those are my biggest tips to make a story seem more realistic and immersive!! hope this helps uu!! if u have any more questions u can dm me :p (and tysm for the compliment ur so sweet)

[saharaocean]

Perverts - txt

Soobin -

The car is parked. She’s sitting next to me, innocent, not knowing what she’s doing to me. I’m her boyfriend’s best friend, and that makes this shit so fucking forbidden, which only turns me on more.

My hand’s resting on my thigh, but in my head, she’s naked, no panties, legs spread wide for me. I imagine sliding my fingers through her wet, hot pussy, feeling her clench around my hand.

She has no idea I’m fucking her mentally right here, right now, can’t touch her because I know if I do, I’ll ruin everything. But that doesn’t stop me—it makes me want it harder.

I want to shove my cock in her mouth, make her swallow every inch while she looks at me scared and wanting it. I want to squeeze her tits hard, pinch her nipples until she screams.

But in reality, I can only brush her hand. And that drives me crazy.

I think about fucking her in this car, in public, with anyone able to walk by and catch us at any second. That makes me harder than anything.

I imagine spitting on her pussy before sliding two fingers in fast, wetting her, making her moan. I think about the size difference between us, how I make her tremble without even touching her.

It’s a dirty game only I can win. The boyfriend’s best friend with hands still, but a mind gone wild.

My cock is hard, and I just want her to kneel on the seat and suck me dry. But I know I can’t.

So I clench my fists again, bite my lip, imagine every filthy detail.

This is what I want. This is what I can’t have. And that’s the only reason I can’t stop craving her.

Yeonjun-

The heat rises just thinking about her, my neighbor. Every time I see her cross the hallway, that short skirt and innocent look, I can’t help but imagine everything.

In my head, she’s lying on my bedroom floor, naked, legs spread wide just for me. I’m deep inside her, slow at first, feeling her squeeze every inch of me.

I can’t touch her in reality, can’t cross that line because we’re neighbors, and I know any wrong move would ruin everything.

But in my mind, I’m filling her up to the brim, my cock buried deep inside her hot, tight pussy.

I feel her trembling as I thrust, her moans filling the room, but no one hears because it’s just a dirty dream.

I think about filling her pussy until she can’t take any more, about the creampie that floods her, spilling out as she shudders.

Then she moves on top of me, and I feel her soaking wetter, a squirt drenching me and driving me insane.

I imagine her flushed face, heavy breathing, body tense and shaking with every thrust.

It’s all forbidden—she’s my neighbor, and I’d never dare tell her out loud.

But in my head, I’m the only one who can give her that wild, deep pleasure, no holding back, no fear.

And even though I know it won’t happen, I can’t stop fantasizing about every drop she spills, every muffled moan she saves just for me.

This desire is mine, a dark secret that only comes out when I’m alone, thinking about her.

Beomgyu-

Beomgyu felt unable to concentrate on the lesson, as her gaze constantly drifted to her classmate. His presence was intoxicating, causing his senses to vibrate with every subtle movement. He inhaled deeply, trying to capture its seductive scent, a sweet perfume that seemed to permeate the air around him.

As the teacher continued to speak, Beomgyu's mind wandered to the forbidden fantasies that consumed him. He imagined her skirt slowly riding up, revealing her creamy thighs and the soft, supple skin she longed to touch. His imagination painted a vivid scene: he could almost feel the silky texture of his bare skin under his fingertips as he slowly and deliberately slid them between his legs. With each caress, she imagined her breath ragged, her thin hands clinging to the desk as her body quivered with pleasure.

He imagined her face, blushing and her eyes glazed with desire, oblivious to the intimate caress that was developing in her mind. But reality brought him back suddenly when he opened his eyes and found her diligently taking notes, oblivious to the erotic dance of his thoughts.

Beomgyu felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that this was a private fantasy, just for her.

Kai -

Kai couldn’t stop thinking about her. His best friend. The one who sat next to him like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t picturing her with her legs wide open, begging for him to fuck her.

Every night, it’s the same fantasy. She’s naked. Warm skin on his sheets, nipples hard, thighs trembling. He’s between them—breathless, cock rock hard, grinding against her wet cunt until she cries out for more.

In his mind, she looks up at him with needy eyes, moaning his name, begging him not to stop. And he doesn’t. He fucks her rough, dirty, holding her hips and slamming into her deep, making her take every inch. She’s soaked, tight, perfect—clenching around him as he loses control. He cums hard, whispering her name, wishing it was real. Wishing she was actually under him, full of him.

But then he opens his eyes. And she’s still just his best friend. Still smiling, still clueless. And he’s left with a hard-on and a head full of filthy dreams he can’t stop having.

Taehyun -

She works at the café he goes to every week. Polite. Sweet. Smiling like she has no idea what kind of filthy shit he thinks about every time she brings him his drink.

Taehyun can’t stop staring at her chest. Tight shirt, soft curves, nipples barely hidden. He imagines grabbing her by the waist, pulling her into his lap, and burying his face between her tits while she gasps. Licking. Sucking. Biting. He wants to leave marks, to taste her skin, to hear her whimper when his tongue circles her nipples slow and wet.

In his mind, she straddles him on one of the café chairs after hours. Her apron undone, tits bouncing in his face as he sucks them like he’s starving. He palms her ass, hard, grinding her against his bulge while her moans echo through the empty place. She tastes like sugar and sin. And he doesn’t stop until she’s dripping for him, begging him to fuck her right there on the counter.

But it’s just a fantasy. One he plays on repeat. Every time she smiles, every time she bends forward just a little too far. She has no idea how badly he wants to ruin her.

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Chan🖤

Pairing: Chan x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 978

Summary: Your anniversary with your beloved boys makes you think of how to show them how much you love them best. Soon, you settle on sending them a message and picture in relation to one of your favorite days spent with them - starting with a sunset beach walk with Channie.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, poly!skz

A/N: Happy one year, guys🤭🥳🖤🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

You sit comfortably on the oversized sofa in the living room, your legs tucked beneath you as a soft throw blanket drapes over your shoulders. The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the evening outside. The warm, ambient light from a lamp nearby casts a golden glow on your laptop screen as you scroll through your photo library, smiling at the memories that flash before your eyes.

The idea had come to you a few days ago, sparked by a simple desire to celebrate the bond you share with each of the boys. With your anniversary around the corner, you wanted to do something meaningful—not grand or flashy, but something that speaks to the heart of what they all mean to you. So, you decided to put together a collection of messages, each paired with a favorite photo of yours. One for each of them.

It’s not just about celebrating the years spent together, but a way to show them how much every single moment counts—how deeply woven into your life they’ve become. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of life, schedules, and everything in between, but when you sit down and look back at these snapshots, the memories are filled with so much warmth that it almost makes you tear up.

Each picture carries its own story, a unique reminder of shared smiles, whispered conversations, and unexpected adventures. It feels like the perfect way to say, “I remember. I see you. And I treasure these moments more than words can say.”

Choosing where to start wasn’t easy, but in the end, you settled on Chan. Leader. Rock. One of your favorite people. The one who somehow always knows exactly how to make you feel heard and seen. Your eyes linger on one particular image that makes your heart flutter—a photograph of a breathtaking sunset on a secluded beach.

The sky is painted with vivid hues of orange, pink, and deep purple, casting a magical light across the gentle waves lapping at the shore. In the foreground, Chan is beside you, his broad smile lighting up the scene as much as the setting sun. He’s looking at the camera, but his body is slightly angled toward you, as if caught in a moment of joy, mid-laughter. His tousled hair frames his face, the salty breeze lifting it slightly, and his eyes crinkle warmly, filled with a playful energy and contentment. The two of you are barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere in the sand, and you’re holding hands, your arm swinging lightly as if you’d just been spinning around together, giddy from the beauty of the evening and each other's presence.

You can almost hear the sound of his voice from that day—the way he kept pointing out how the colors of the sky matched your favorite shade of coral or how he’d sneakily race you to the water’s edge just to let the waves catch you by surprise. It was one of those spontaneous days, a perfect pocket of time when everything aligned, and all that mattered was the way the world seemed to slow down around the two of you.

The day had started unassumingly, with a casual suggestion from Chan to go for a drive after a long day of work. There had been no real destination in mind until you noticed the telltale sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the distant waves. Without a second thought, he turned the car toward the coast. When you arrived, the beach was nearly empty—just you, him, and the endless expanse of sand and sea. As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with the most brilliant shades, you both kicked off your shoes and wandered along the shoreline. You talked about everything and nothing—dreams, music, life, and silly inside jokes that had the two of you bursting into laughter.

As the colors deepened and the first stars peeked through, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just you, him, and the rhythm of the waves. It was then that he set up the camera timer, capturing that perfect image, your smiles forever frozen against the backdrop of the sun-kissed sky.

The smile on your lips softens as you relive the memory, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You take a deep breath and begin to type out a message for Chan, the words flowing easily from your heart. He’s someone who would understand the significance of this little project of yours—your way of saying, “I’m grateful. For you, for us, for all the tiny pieces that have come together to build this beautiful mosaic of memories.”

Message to Channie Baby🖤:

Hey Channie,

I came across this picture today, and it made me think of one of my favorite memories with you. Remember that sunset beach stroll? The way you just decided to take us there on a whim? I think that’s one of the things I love most about you—the way you turn ordinary moments into something unforgettable.

That evening, I remember feeling like everything was just… right. The world seemed quieter, softer, and it was like we had all the time in the world just to be ourselves. I know we’ve had so many amazing experiences together, but something about that day stands out to me. Maybe it’s because it felt so simple, just us, the ocean, and the sky. But it’s one of those moments that I’ll always cherish.

Thank you for always making life brighter, for your laughter and for the way you see beauty in everything. I’m so grateful to have you by my side—not just during sunsets, but every single day.

Happy anniversary, Channie. Here’s to many more sunsets together.

Love you, always.

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[dragon-ascent]

Rex, incognito; and you, frustrated.

When your god goes incognito, his only giveaway is his amber eyes. And you’ve been running into amber-eyed folk a lot lately…

When you go fetch the morning paper, the man delivering them tells you not to believe the front-page news about Qiaoying’s monster crisis and that the matter has already been dealt with swiftly. You frown at him, confused, and that’s when you see his amber-hued gaze as he trudges away.

The bookstore has a new highly-anticipated book in stock! Demand is sky-high, and just when you’re about to snag the last copy…some guy takes it for himself, smiling apologetically at you. One look at his eyes and it’s made known that Rex Lapis just swiped the book you’d been looking forward to reading.

A black cat runs over to you one day, nuzzling the everloving crap out of you. How cute, you think, and pick him up, and as he licks you eagerly you notice his damn amber eyes. (You still cuddle him for a bit, though. You’re not going to hold a grudge against your archon for some book.)

Taking a stroll along the foot of Mt. Aocang, you find a painter expertly decorating his canvas in a vivid array of colours. When you approach him and ask what he’s painting, he says without even looking up, “It’s a scene from a book I have been entranced by recently. The scene takes place at the foot of this mountain here, and I was inspired to try my hand at recreating the scene. Here, you may have a look.”

And when you do look…it’s a spoiler from the book you’d wanted to read but failed to snag. The book Rex Lapis literally yoinked from under your nose.

You look up hastily, intending to erase whatever you’d seen in that moment from your mind, and you meet the curious painter’s amber eyes.

Rex Lapis the painter tilts his head. “Is something the matter?”

You’re eating your lunch by the pond you frequent, minding your business when someone quietly sits near you, opening his lunchbox. His eyes meet yours and oh boy, they’re amber.

Your eyes widen. Maybe it’s time for a confrontation. “I know you’re Rex Lapis.”

The man looks away, a deep blush blooming on his rather lovely face. “Rex Lapis…I’m afraid I have never heard of him.” And then he goes back to eating his home-cooked, traditional Liyuen meal.

****

You sigh as you stir your tea, venting to the tea seller about all your encounters. And yes, you checked to make sure: this man’s eyes are grey. Thank archons.

“Perhaps He simply wishes to get to know you better,” offers the man earnestly. “When Rex goes incognito, He attempts to understand us on a deeper level, yes?”

“I suppose so.” You sip your tea in contemplation. “By the way, this tea is exquisite.”

He beams like it’s the greatest compliment he’s ever gotten. “Thank you.”

You down the rest of your cup and are about to ask for another one when something small falls onto the table. You pick it up, frowning. A…grey contact lens..?

The tea seller blinks at you, equally taken aback as you register how his face has now changed; one eye grey, one eye teasingly golden. The man fidgets, shielding his eyes from you but it’s too late.

Sighing, you gather your things, leave a tip for Rex Lapis the tea seller, and head straight home.

★彡Sort of a sequel-but-not-really to this post hehe

[pinkofatom]

Sold Rose

CW: corruption, whorification, sluttification, maledom, femsub

Hi hi~ if you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi

Enjoy 🩷

The doorbell rang just as Rose was setting her teacup down. It wasn’t a particularly loud sound, but something about its chime made her uneasy, like it didn’t belong to her house at all. She hesitated, then opened the door.

A man in a gray suit stood on her porch. He wore no name tag, carried no briefcase—only a smooth leather binder tucked beneath one arm. His smile was warm, but his eyes were strangely unfocused, like he was looking through her rather than at her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ellery," he said, "May I borrow a few minutes of your time?"

She should have said no. She knew that. But something in his voice — its cadence, its measured rhythm — dulled the word in her throat. Instead, she nodded.

The man smiled, stepping through the open door without waiting for an invitation.

"What a lovely home you have," he commented, "Are you the owner?"

"Y-Yes, I— " Rose stumbled over her own tongue.

The man hummed to himself. His footsteps were perfectly silent as he wandered into her living room, gazing up at the ceiling and along the walls.

"How drab. I think you need to change the interior," the man said. He turned to face Rose, gesturing vaguely. "Add more life, add some personality, add some color."

"I— I like it the way it is," Rose replied. She was standing at attention with one hand twisted up in the folds of her dress, which fell loose and modestly from her figure. A hint of uncertainty played on her tongue, but the words themselves still came easily enough.

"Don't be so uncertain, Miss Ellery. I know you want change. It's written all over your face," he replied with an easy smile that didn't reach his eyes at all, "Change makes you happy. It excites you."

He was right; just thinking about it sent shivers down Rose's spine. Her fingers curled reflexively around a lock of dark hair, twirling it. For a moment, her mind wandered.

"You want something that represents you. Something more exciting, don't you? Something that would shock people who know this pitiful persona you wear," he continued. The leather binder slipped from his grasp onto a desk, flipping open. The glossy covers of countless magazines flashed inside. "Look, Rose," the man beckoned.

Rose hesitantly obliged. As soon as the magazine pages entered her sight, she was mesmerized by the vivid images. A woman, barely older than herself, stretched languidly across a leather couch. Shelves filled with explicit toys surrounded her. The room was painted a vibrant red with no windows in sight and dark curtains.

Rose's breathing grew shallow as her eyes devoured the photo, roaming over every detail.

"You should see the other models we have in our collection. There's this one, here—"

The page flipped — her heart fluttered in anticipation. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't bring herself to even try. On this page was a racy picture of an attractive young model. She was clad in tight, skimpy black latex clothing, flaunting her voluptuous curves. Her full, round breasts and wide hips strained the fabric, threatening to spill out of her clothes, and the high, form-fitting neckline accentuated her slender, delicate neck and jawline.

And yet, what drew Rose's gaze more than anything was her facial expression. It conveyed pure lust; she looked as if she could barely restrain herself. Her half-lidded eyes smoldered with an unquenchable fire. The corners of her lips tugged upward into an arrogant smirk, showing just a sliver of her pearly white teeth.

The room in the image reflected the model's sultry personality: dark leather furniture in deep maroons and browns, black walls adorned with artistic nudes and abstract artwork, low red-orange lighting that gave the scene an almost sensual atmosphere.

"This one looks better, doesn't it?" he prompted, his smile stretching wider. "Imagine how good you'll look in this room. What you — are in this room."

He spoke slowly and deliberately. Rose could feel his words seeping into her pores.

"And this," he pointed to another woman.

This woman was gorgeous, with large breasts, wide hips, and a perfectly proportioned waist. She had pale, flawless skin and golden blonde hair that hung loosely over her shoulders. She had bright hazel eyes that shone with seductive charm, full lips that curved into a wicked smile. The black lipstick she wore added to the image. A tattoo of a black rose marked the top of her ample chest, nestled between two pert, perky breasts.

The bedroom she laid in was decorated in rich shades of purple. Satin sheets and plush pillows made the room seem welcoming yet naughty, like walking through a mysterious gateway. Her body lay exposed to the camera lens on top of an elegant four-poster bed.

Loud buzzing sounded in Rose's ears. Everything in the room, from the lighting and soft, luxurious fabric to the elegant furniture, was made specifically to draw the viewer's eye towards her. It worked flawlessly — the model's smoldering eyes seemed locked with hers.

She found herself wanting to stare into those eyes forever.

"And finally," he said, turning the page once more. The third image was more explicit and provocative than either of the others — the woman lay on her stomach, her plump, juicy ass spread open by her hands. The tip of an oversized dildo teased at the edge of her pussy, which was slick with clear lubrication and her juices. Rose felt a small tingle between her thighs as she imagined herself in such an obscene, lewd pose.

It took Rose several seconds to realize she'd begun to drool.

The man chuckled. His fingers slid the magazine from Rose's gaze.

"Pardon me," he murmured, wiping it delicately. "You've smeared the pages. It happens often, actually," the man admitted without much apology in his voice.

He slipped the booklet back in the folder, holding it tight to his side again as he looked Rose over.

"You agree to such changes, don't you, Miss Ellery?"

Rose nodded slowly as if in a trance. As if someone had wrapped their fist in her hair, tugged at her scalp, and yanked her head up and down.

A warm smile stretched over the man's face, exposing straight, pearly whites.

"And of course, your behavior needs to reflect such a sultry, tantalizing home," the man said. He leaned close — close enough that she could feel the weight of his words. She was frozen in place, helpless to stop him as his eyes burned her. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, pumping her veins full of molten lust.

He murmured softly to himself as his hand reached into his pocket to retrieve something small.

"Do you want to know what I hold? It will change your life. I will help you. Just listen to me, Rose," the man whispered. "Just do everything I ask. Just be a good little girl."

He snapped the collar closed around Rose's slim neck.

Her breath caught in her throat, but then the shock melted away. A drowzy focus filled her mind. Every thought slowed as it bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. The haze in her head made everything else seem fuzzy except for a sensual confidence. She stood taller, puffing her chest and raising her chin to an alluring angle. Her eyes slipped to a natural half-lidded state. Rose didn't need to look down to check — she knew her mouth had curved in that exact seductive way that men found so appealing, and that would make the man in the suit drool for her.

"Of course, hon," she answered in a slow drawl. Her fingers played through the locks of hair that spilled over her shoulder, the movement more languid and graceful than ever before, "You've been such a doll — helping little old me. I'd love to give back in some way, darling. Do anything for ya."

The man hummed, "Anything, you say?"

"Anything," she emphasized. As she spoke, Rose felt an even sharper pleasure tingling along her skin and throughout her body, lighting her nerve endings up with arousal.

He slid the magazine from its binder, opening to a photo of an attractive blonde dressed in a black latex corset that showed off her fake voluptuous curves. Between her thighs and cheeks, toys were visible. As his finger slid along the outline of each toy, she felt herself getting more and more aroused, the sensation intensifying into a full-on heat. She bit back her moans. "Then you wouldn't mind to implement such changes too. As your home will become a nice home of debauchery, so will your body. The things you see here—"

He pointed to her body on the photo — her large breasts, the smooth curves of her waist and hips, her shapely legs. Rose felt herself trembling, feeling it — feeling something touching her.

"Your body will look like this. And you happily use it to gain some money. What do you say, Rose? Sell me your existence and in return you will become such a good slutty whore," he murmured in her ear.

He leaned back slightly and tilted her face up. She was looking directly at him, staring into those dark eyes that seemed so much closer than usual. It felt like his lips would brush hers if either of them moved an inch.

And then his lips were pressed against hers, and everything clicked together in a way she'd never thought possible.

As she broke the contact, all she could do was agree.

***

Rose was in heaven, reveling in every moment of bliss.

A few days after that fateful encounter, she woke up on her back and moaned when she felt the toys buzz deep inside of her.

She still could not remember how all the changes happened so fast — but the delicious weight of her artificial breasts made sure that she did not care.

Her entire world revolved around her newfound sexuality. Nothing mattered anymore — just the constant waves of pleasure that swept through her body, overwhelming her senses. And of course her part of the delightful deal. She had so many things that helped her get there — her delicious toys, her huge collection of sexy outfits, and her whole, wonderful lifestyle. It was almost enough to distract her from any sort of normal routine.

Still, the first thing she did was check her reflection in a nearby mirror, just to see her pretty face staring back at her.

Plump black coated lips that always curved into a natural smirk, thick smoky eyeliner and a delicate heart-shaped patch of blush accentuating her cheekbones made her look like the embodiment of sex — and the way she moved and carried herself reinforced that idea even further.

Her smooth, long and luscious golden hair fell in a cascade of shimmering locks down to the middle of her back, accentuating the curve of her ass perfectly. With a light sway in her hips, Rose turned away from the mirror, and the silky fabric of the skimpy red negligée that covered her skin swayed and stretched taut against her voluptuous figure.

Rose reached out a slim hand to grab a small, handheld remote that lay next to her on the nightstand. Her fingers danced across its surface, and instantly, her whole body tensed.

With a click she activated the cameras hidden in every wall and corner of her home. After the man's help, she had no qualms sharing every inch of her body, and her entire life with anyone interested. When she remembered the thrill that would soon flood her nerves at the mere thought, her pussy quivered and her cunt dripped even harder.

"Good morning, darlings," Rose cooed, her tongue curling sensually around each word. Her eyelids fluttered and she felt a wave of satisfaction washing over her.

"I am so happy you watch my morning routine. Don't leave me alone, okay? It's so fun having all of your eyes on me." She blew them a sultry kiss and giggled.

Her hands traveled up her body to squeeze the massive, round, artificial mounds on her chest. They jiggled in her grasp. Rose loved the soft squishiness between her fingers as she kneaded them firmly but lovingly.

"And don't forget, if you want a taste of this exquisite whore," she purred and caressed the ample curve of her chest with her hands, "All you have to do, is buy a slot."

A breathless moan slipped through her lips when her thumbs grazed the erect peaks of her fake tits, and her back arched with pleasure.

"But before we check, who are the lucky customers, I'm going to get ready for the day," she breathed. One of the cameras in front of her caught the way she flicked the tip of her tongue teasingly over her plump painted lips as if tasting the arousal that lingered in the air.

With an inviting, sauntering stride, Rose made her way across the bedroom — imagining all the desperate people she would entertain today.

[the-white-void]

Oh! You've Heard This Story?

Summary: Once again, your end has begun, and the story starts anew. Yet, she remembers this story; one told over and over again.

Warning: This contains mentions of violence and repetitive deaths which may be uncomfortable to some readers.

One || two || three

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mef0rg0r @altheq0 @obliviousariies2007

Blood of gold stained the podium as the blade of the Archon of Inazuma sliced your neck. Leaving the crowds that once cheered for your end turned to fear and shallow worries of regret.

You've seen this before. As your head descended from your body, your consciousness still lingered, even for only a moment. The screams of agony laced with regret and sorrow; the cries of the archons as they saw the precious blood that was wasted on the floor.

That is how it always ended.

Your mind now eases as your death finally comes, then onto the next show.

You open your eyes once more to the lush green grass tickled your ears, and the trees swayed its leaves on your rags; the warm rays that lay on your skin. A scene all too familiar.

You have given up on trying to survive on this game of cat and mouse; simply letting it all roll like a ball, because out of all the countless times you tried to escape before were all futile, even giving up showed the same ending.

There is no end to this scripted play.

Fate is like a chord. No matter how you pull to change it, it will always return to its original form.

You pick yourself up, dust off a few leaves stuck on your rags and walked up to a nearby tree bearing some apples. You reach out for one close yet ripe.

"Maybe Amber noticed me already and might shoot my arm." You blurted out as the apple twisted and fell on your face. "Ah! It's already loose." you mumbled with your brow raised before picking up the apple from the ground; you dusted off the dirt then took a bite. "Doesn't matter, you missed." You uttered as you look to the side where the brunette wearing red hid from afar; her bow lowered from when it first had you a target.

Her face painted with worry and confusion, she focuses her bow to you once more, ready for your retaliation. Yet, you walk back to the spot where you first woke up; legs crossed with your bum on the ground as you continued to eat the apple.

"What?" The brunette mumbles with her brows furrowed, confused why you just say down defenceless while chewing on your apple till you ate it all and the core was left. "Could it be a trick? Are they just luring me in?" Thoughts flooded her head thinking about what you could be planning if you already know where she was.

After laying the core of the apple you just ate on the ground, you look back at where the brunette was hiding. "Even if you are here to catch the imposter, there is still etiquette for how knights capture fiends." You spoke with a sigh and a small smile, waiting for her to shoot her bow, or throw Baron Bunny to your face.

An arrow of fire flew past you and hit the tree right behind you, barely grazing your hair. Amber then emerges from the bushes while her bow was still pointed at you "You have the right to remain silent. Your actions of impersonating the divine deity..." She continues to mouth out paragraphs you've heard countless times before, still smiling without a care in the world.

In a nation distant to the airy breezes of Mondstat, in the land hidden in the forests where rain comes and goes, the land where knowledge is weighed more than mora, Sumeru.

Lying inside the Sanctuary of Surasthana where the Archon resides, she sprung up with a cold sweat, as if she just had a nightmare. Her gasps were heavy and her hands shaking; her dream was as vivid as if it were real, like the times she would occasionally possess the receptionist of the Adventurers Guild, however, unlike those dreams, it was not coveted by the mind of a human nor god. The scene was too real to be revered as a dream.

"Oh... Very well,I'll see you all. Soon."

Were the last words of the imposter before their head departed from their body. "What did they mean? Will it happen again? I saw their memories; it happened to them over and over again. Like a samsara, after reaching an end it'll go back to the beginning. How long have they been doing this? Do they have a goal?" Questions drowned out all their senses before a loud arrogant voice broke her focus.

A short man wearing blue accents and a large hat was snapping his fingers in front of the archon's face with an annoyed look. "Hey! I've been calling you for ages; you said you wanted me to do something." His tone filled with salt and bitterness as he pulled his arms back together crossed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, the dendro Archon, one who was calm and collected was in a cold sweat, unable to comprehend what reality she had just seen. If it were to happen in this world as well, would it too crumble and wither away.

"H- hat guy..." The dendro Archon's voice trembled when she muttered her words. Looking towards Hat Guy with her eyes widened and trembling "What happened these past few days? There was the imposter a- and..." Her voice trails off as she tries to word out what happened, but her tongue falters to convey what was on her mind.

"The imposter? That news just landed in the Akademia an hour ago. I guess that's what you can expect of a god who can read minds." He mumbles while the Archon gathers her thoughts.

"What? But the imposter was just about to be executed. Everyone was there and... the imposter was... calm... they- they said something then… then…” her eyes wonder off around the room remembering the words of the imposter.

“... Hat guy. Take me to Mondstat; I need to talk to the imposter.” Her eyes were then set on the short man; eyes painted with determination and fear, set on speaking with the one branded as an imposter, yet whose last is shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.

The man that looked at the Dendro god puzzled and perplexed. “What?! Are you- just when you hear about an imposter; you wanna go meet them?!! Don't you know how dangerous that thing could be?” His aloof and sour tone shifted to a raised and concerned voice after hearing the Archon's desire to met with the imposter.

Kusanali sighs with her eyes faltering, wondering if it just a ruse after all. She ponders for some time, recollecting and organising the memories she had of the imposter. “The execution just happened with the Electro Archon beheading the the imposter, but before that, the imposter allowed me to look through their memories, then…” her memory was then blank.

“Can they dream?” Hat Guy's voice cut her focus. “If you really wanna talk to them, you can go in their dream and just talk to them there.”

The idea lit up the Lesser Lord's face “Yes. Their dreams. They looked young, they probably still have dreams, like escaping… or… wait… can they dream?” Her voice questioned the mentality and consciousness of the imposter.

[meanbossart]

Ok so I just devoured all of ANE—incredible work, I just loved imagining every scene with your art in mind, it painted such a vivid picture. There are so many great moments in the fic but one that stuck out, that I would LOVE to ask you about:

Chap 26- "My blood, my guts - I felt them starting to boil, to roast. It was as excruciating as it was exhilarating. Like coming alive again"

I adore how creatively you write violence. I never would have thought of it—let's electrocute the vampire!! I am so curious for more details from astarions POV. Was it just a shocking (pun intended) experience, or is this something he would low key fantasize about later? (Or was he just saying that cause he thought DU drow would be kinda into it?)

I would also love to know more about his vampire sweat which you describe as waxy. It seems like that it happens to him not really just from physical exertion, but from his vampire body reacting to extreme circumstances—like exposure to the river, or the electrocution. Is that theory accurate? Basically, we know he sweats, but does he sweat with normal triggers? Or is it different for vampires?

Haha I love taking vampire lore as provided from BG3 and getting grittier with it!!! Thanks for taking us on such an incredible journey with this fic so far!

Oh I LOVE A Novel Experience questions. Thank you so much for reading it!!! I'm glad it has been a fun experience so far.

This scene, and that dialogue in particular, was written with future events in mind, and while Astarion's line specifically doesn't have direct plot impact, it may come to mind at a later date, once Other Stuff has happened (profoundly helpful, I know).

The scene itself (where Astarion uses his body to conduct the electrical charge) is also supposed to reveal a little more about how I headcanon vampire's bodies to work: he received a fatal dose of electricity, his body technically suffered the side-effects from it, but since Astarion doesn't actually depend on his his bodily functions he did not cease actual functioning and was able to stand upright to do what he did.

Astarion's reaction also is supposed to be earnest. He basically just got defibrillated times a hundred, felt heat emanate from the core of his body for the first time in two centuries and had his heart jump hard enough to shake up some of the cobwebs around it - he will definitely be thinking about it, but the experience wasn't sexual. He only came onto DU drow minutes later because the experience put him in a really good mood, and because it was a good way to reassure his partner that he was okay despite what just happened.

I do like to bring about a corpse-like picture whenever I describe Astarion in distress, or exerting himself. I have an ask reply buried somewhere that goes into more detail about it, but basically - the worse a state the finds himself in, the more he resembles a cadaver, hence the oiliness/ thick sweat (the aforementioned waxiness) and a potent smell. He basically looks very feverish in those instances, which can also resemble someone who's freshly deceased.

I don't think he's ever quite normal unless very freshly fed, bathed, or covered in perfume, but both smell and physical appearance do improve significantly when he's not actively suffering or regenerating, the same goes for the waxy-sweat situation - if he's being active a normal amount (fighting, having sex, or stuck in really hot temperatures), he either won't sweat at all or only a little bit, and nothing about it will seem particularly out of place unless you were to take a big whiff of him. It's all technically the same action/substance but produced in different amounts and interacting with the overall state of his body.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[thewatcher727]

Writing Tip - Unnecessary Descriptions

More writing tips

We all know the importance of making a story immersive with detailed and vivid descriptions. They truly bring the story to life and get you hooked right away. That being said, there is such a thing as unnecessary descriptions. What do I mean by this? It means a description that doesn’t need to be there. I’ve been guilty of this in the past, which is why I’m always adapting my writing style (something I’ll discuss in a future tip). That being said, what’s an example of a pointless description? I’ll show some from stories I’ve read, but I won’t include author or story names because these tips aren’t about badmouthing people; they’re about helping others improve.

Example 1:

“Without her tailcoat on, the only articles of clothing that covered her torso were her bra (which couldn't be seen) and a white undershirt.”

They didn’t need to mention the bra. Simply stating that she wore a white undershirt would have been enough.

Example 2:

“The sun was shining brightly in the clear blue sky, with no clouds in sight, making the day sunny and bright.”

They basically said the same thing twice, repeating it unnecessarily. They could have ended the sentence after saying there were no clouds in sight.

Example 3:

“Jessica picked up her phone, which she had bought two years ago from a shop in a small town she visited during a road trip. The shop had a quaint little sign painted in faded yellow, and the owner had a peculiar habit of wearing mismatched socks.”

This is nicely described, but what does it have to do with the actual story? Jessica picking up the phone was just a simple action. Unless the phone and where she got it from become crucial to the story, there’s no need to say where she got it from.

Example 4:

“Carlos wore a shirt with 14 buttons, each perfectly round and made of plastic, with four tiny holes for the thread to go through.”

Again, nicely described, but did we need to know the specific number of buttons on his shirt? Just saying he wore a neatly buttoned shirt would have been enough.

...

With those examples in mind, how do we avoid unnecessary descriptions? Here are some things to keep in mind:

Focus On Relevance: When it comes to excessive detail, focus on what’s actually relevant. For example, if you write about a character drinking from a cup of coffee, don’t feel the need to describe what the cup looks like. Focus on the sensory detail of the coffee with a simple sentence rather than unnecessary specifics about the cup's appearance.

Avoid Irrelevant Backstory: As in example 3, don’t bother with irrelevant backstory. Focus on the action relevant to that moment rather than including unrelated details that don’t impact the current scene.

Avoid Repetition: Like example 2, don’t feel the need to say the same thing twice. Provide a clear image without repetition.

Avoid Overly Specific Details: As in example 4, don’t go into too much depth about how many buttons are on Carlos’ shirt. Keep it simple and focus on what’s important, like Carlos’ neat appearance.

All in all, unnecessary descriptions can slow down the pace of the story and take readers out of it. Focus on the details that enhance the story.

[mitsiepitsie]

Awaiting

Ahhhh, the secret times audio for this card painted such a vivid scene in my mind, that I had to write out the rest of it. Sylus's lines are taken verbatim from the card, the rest is my interpretation. Unproofed as always, here's 1500 words and a bit for your reading pleasure. TW gunshot wound, gunfight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The darkness around you is oppressive as you glance around, briefly spotting the tiny red lights on the visors of the men surrounding you in the bushes. Five, six, no, more, a dozen strong, at least. You don’t know what faction or organization they’re with and why they’re after you, but you know you need to get out of here, now. 

A quick look at your watch tells you one of his safe houses should be nearby, the abandoned villa where he rescued that kitten that day. A bullet whizzing past your head snaps you to attention, and then you’re running, making a mad dash for the relative safety of the abandoned villa, trying to lose the people following you by darting left and right randomly.

You burst onto a small clearing, cursing as a masked man, completely in black intercepts you with a shit eating grin on his face. You aim your gun at him, but he was waiting for that, and suddenly, pain blooms blindingly in your left shoulder. You recoil from the impact, reeling in pain, and then, he’s standing above you, aiming again. Without thinking, you fling out your right arm and blindly shoot in his general direction, his howl of pain somehow satisfying to your ears as he crumples to the ground in front of you. 

You grit your teeth and force yourself to your feet again, groaning at the lurch in your stomach as you do, but then you’re running again, gaining momentum with each step, though you no longer have it in you to zig a lot of zags. And then, the villa comes into view, and you’re through the gates and crashing into the door, the old lock no match for the impact. 

Still having the sense to close the door behind you, you lean against it and try to calm your erratic breaths. You can hear some shouting in the distance, the voices barely audible over the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You drag yourself to the end of the hall, facing the door as you sink down onto the floor, trying to inspect your wound and think of a course of action. 

Just as you discover the bullet went straight through, the door flies open, your arm flying up in instinct as you aim for the intruder. 

“You welcome this house’s owner by pointing a gun at his head?” Sylus intones, shaking his silvery head at you incredulously, “Ok then..”

Before you manage to retort, he brings a finger to his lips and quietly shuts the door again and stalks over to where you are sitting on the floor. “Shh, they might still be listening in. Keep it down.” 

You lower your gun and resume your inspection of the wound on your shoulder, muttering wryly that you could’ve used his presence a few minutes earlier. 

“How was I supposed to know you were here?” he mutters as he crouches down beside you, his eyes fixed on the bloody stain on your uniform. 

You let out a mirthless snicker. “It sure didn’t take you long to find me.”

His voice is suddenly in your ear as he closes in on you. “Look up,” he says, gaze not leaving the bullet wound, “To your right. See that black spot? It's a surveillance camera.”

A colorful swear is on your lips as Sylus simply continues. “The system notified me as soon as the door lock was broken.”

He shifts, carefully peeling back the lapel of your jacket. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

You try to shrug, forced to wince as you do. “I’m sure you’ve had worse,” you grunt at him as you stand up, trying your damnedest to ignore your wobbly legs as you slide your gun into it’s holster on your leg. 

He grins wryly. “You’re still acting tough, huh?” You try not to be affected by the disapproval underlying his words. 

Sylus grabs your waist, gently supporting you as he guides you into one of the adjoining rooms. “Sit, on the bed,” he directs you. 

It’s all you can do to blow a raspberry in his direction as you sink down on the mattress. You watch as he pulls open a nearby dresser and starts fishing out packets of bandages and other first aid supplies. He walks back over to you, a single eyebrow raised at your antics. 

“Now is not the time for you to be a big girl,” he says sarcastically, lightly sitting down on the bed beside you, “Well…unless you have arms on your back to treat your injury.”

You’re tempted to blow another raspberry right into his smug face, but decide to settle for a roll of your eyes instead. “I’d rather grow a pair of wings, instead,” you say, trying to best his stupid little joke. 

You think you see a flash of surprise flit across his eyes, but it must’ve been a trick of the light, as the next second, he’s right back to commanding you in a tone that brooks no discussion. “Turn around, take off your jacket.”

Begrudgingly, you comply, carefully shrugging off the company issued jacket and turning your back to him. There’s some rustling behind you, and suddenly, a cold substance is spread onto your broken skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “What the fuck is that?” you hiss at him, the stinging bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It’s medicine,” he simply answers, “hold on.”

His hand returns, spreading more of the salve onto your shoulder. You suck in another breath, groaning at the intense burning spreading from the wound. 

“Quiet,” he mutters into your right ear as his other hand clamps over your mouth, “I know it hurts, but if I have to keep my hand over your mouth, I won’t be able to treat your wound.”

He releases you again, and you mutter under your breath about not being certain you want this kind of treatment. 

“If you really can bear it, I have some canned meat,” Sylus says, a playful lilt in his tone now, “The slices should be thick enough for you to sink your teeth into.”

You glance back over your right shoulder, frowning at him in blatant disgust. 

He catches your eye, grinning. “It was just a suggestion, you don't need to look at me like that,” he chuckles, “Isn't it better than being spotted because you're too loud?”

He takes a second to look around the both of you, searching for another option. “Do you want to bite down on the gauze pad?” he asks, waving an unopened packet in front of you, “that works too.”

You shake your head, gritting out the retort that you would rather bite on his hand, if anything.  

“Bear with me a moment,” he says, and he leans back as if he needs to collect himself, “Ok. Let’s continue.”

His breath is right in your ear as you feel a dull pricking sensation, and you realise the medicine earlier was some kind of numbing agent, and now he is suturing the bullet hole in your shoulder. Another breath, another prick and pull at your skin. 

“I’m almost done,” Sylus mutters gently, “One last-” He trails off, sitting up straighter on the bed. Footsteps resound on the pavement outside, or, at least you hope they’re still outside. You hear him breathing heavily for a moment as he weighs your options. 

“Where’s your weapon?” he whispers, lips almost touching your ear this time.  

You twitch your right leg in answer. “ It’s on your right leg?”

Before you can bend over to grab it, he halts you by grabbing your wrist. “Don’t move,” he says, “Your wound will open up. I'll get it.”

Sylus releases your wrist and you watch, almost in a trance as his large hand ghosts around you from his position at your back to move over your thigh. Despite the situation, despite yourself, you shiver at his questing fingers, almost disappointed as they make contact with the cold metal strapped to your leg. 

“Load the gun for me,” he breathes, holding the gun up to your face.  

Deftly, you blindly snap the magazine in place. He snickers into your ear, and you shiver again as he quietly stands up from the bed to stand before you.

“We make a good team,” he comments, holding out his hand to you, “Give me your hand.” 

You shake your head, holding out your own hand for him to place the gun back into. He raises an eyebrow at you, staring down his nose at you. 

“Do you want to do it yourself?” he whispers, a pointed look at your wounded shoulder as he weighs your weapon in his hand, “But I have your gun. There’s also no place for you to take cover. Just don't let go, if you want to stay out of the crossfire.” 

He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet before leading you towards the hallway again, careful to keep you covered behind him. “I’d rather not bandage more wounds in the next few minutes,” Sylus offers over his shoulder with a winning smile, before raining down hell and damnation at the people who dared wound his beloved. 

[scar-crossedlvrs]

All hail ID! Leon!!! I’m wondering how he would reacts when his Reader! young gf got kidnapped or been taken as hostage. Let’s just say maybe she got at the wrong place wrong time? Chris and Leon partnered up to save her 🫢 (I don’t want Leon go thru this alone, he got enough shit already tbh)

(I don’t know if you’re gonna write this up or not but whatever it is, stay safe and take care of yourself gorl 🩵)

Leon S Kennedy - Help Me

ID!Leon is my favorite Leon no questions about it. I have this headcanon that ID!Leon is the one with the most confidence in his skills & second most optimistic Leon era just due to his successes ( saving ashley and the ‘dozens of successful missions’ that shen mei references ). Anyway, watch me rip that all away in one fell swoop.

cw for : f!reader, kidnapping, swearing, blood mention, implied age gap (up to you tbh), reckless driving, chris redfield, it’s mostly just a mess of angst and anger.

gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

How many times had he told you to lock the goddamned doors?

Fingers drum against the steering wheel as he weaves in and out of traffic. His phone trilled in his ear as he drove and the longer it rang, the more his gut bubbled with anxiety.

“Pick up the fucking phone Redfield.”

The scene was still vivid in his mind. Your front door slightly ajar as he pulled up to your house. Leon had immediately been put on edge by this. The overwhelming feeling of panic however, didn’t set in until he noticed the bright red smear across the white painted wood.

Inside the house wasn’t much better, turned over from top to bottom. Every single one of your meticulously placed photos and knickknacks were strewn smashed on the floor, broken glass, plastic and porcelain everywhere. All decorated with a spattering of red. The same scene played out in each and every one of the rooms. It didn't seem to be a run of the mill robbery though. Nothing of value was missing, nothing besides you.

The worst part was the way your phone went to voicemail every single time he called.

“Hello?”

Leon’s torn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Chris Redfield.

“Answer the phone any slower?” he’s snappy, frustrated, scared.

It must have been obvious, with the way the concern laced into Chris’s words. “Leon? Is something wrong?”

“She’s gone, Chris. The house is a mess and her phone just goes straight to voicemail. Someone was there, and I think they took her.”

The word vomit just spews from his lips as he switches lanes again, white-knuckling the steering wheel as icy eyes dart around. He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s looking for. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

Had he gotten too cocky, too lax in his security? Everything had been going so well since Ashley. He had been saving people. What the fuck went wrong? Fuck, he should have pressed the issue harder when he asked you to move in with him. At least there he could have kept a better eye on you, kept you safe. This wouldn’t have happened.

Leon was spiraling.

“Are you still with me, Kennedy?” Chris’s voice broke through the haze again.

"Yeah." Barely.

"You sure she was at home? She's probably just not answering your calls."

Chris didn't know you, didn't know that you didn't just ignore phone calls, especially not his calls. You weren't just ignoring him.

"I wouldn't have called you if I thought she was just ignoring my calls. The place was torn up Redfield. Whoever it was, was looking for something. There was blood fucking everywhere." His words came out more aggressive than intended.

They had to, he needed to get his point across.

“Okay, yeah that’s bad. But I can’t just get clearance to do anything..”

“I’m not asking you to deploy the BSAA. I’m asking you to help me” Leon cut him off.

The silence that hangs makes him regret calling Chris. Had he made a call to the wrong Redfield? He should have just called Claire. She wouldn’t have hesitated so much, wouldn’t have wasted so much time. That was if she even picked up the phone.

Either way, for once, he couldn’t do this on his own. Not like this.

"Go home. I'll meet you there. We'll figure this out okay? Don't do anything stupid Leon."

"Yeah."

---

Your head is aching, forehead damp with sweat or blood ( you're not sure which ), feet sore and bloodied from stumbling through the shattered glass on your living room floor. Eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and the room is dark and quiet.

All alone with your thoughts. Thoughts of how you ended up here. How you had been so distracted, unable to notice the men coming in through the unlocked front door. One snatching you up as the other set out to look for something, smashing everything in his path. Your screams fell on deaf ears, feet being dragged through the mess on the floor as you struggled to break free.

Until a sharp pain to the back of the head forced you into unconsciousness.

There's the sound of shuffling, metal clinking, and there's something pressed to your ear. A phone? There's a few moments of trilling rings before a voice answers with a panicked "Hello?"

"Leon?"

Your voice is hoarse from the screaming earlier, and tears sting at your eyes.

"Baby where are you?" You've never heard him sound like this, scared.

"I don't know, Lee. Help me. I don't know where I am. It's dark and I'm scared."

Before he can respond, the phone is pulled from your ear. The scream ripped from your throat as his voice was cut off by the phone being hung up. A sharp laugh caused a shiver to course through you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Think that got his attention, hm princess?"

________________________________________________

uh i don't know where I was going to go with this, meaning cliffhanger!!! one person says they want more & i'll plan out more <3