#questionable writing tag

[fates-theysband]

the day you came, the sun ran out of light

idk what it is about this game that's making me pound out writing in a fevered haze but. another outer wilds self ship fic. here there be emotional conversations. maybe also some smooching. who's to say. also i think this is the first time i've had multiple of my s/is in one fic.

words: 2.2k

--

It was inaccurate to say Dark Bramble was ever quiet. It had…significantly less sound than somewhere like, say Giant’s Deep, that was for certain, but it was never quiet. Feldspar was part of the reason, of course, since their harmonica was usually the loudest thing in earshot. But even when they weren’t playing, they could hear other things. The distant screeches of anglerfish fighting for territory, the crackling of the fire, and, sometimes, if they listened just closely enough, the distant sparking of their ship’s remains. 

One thing they never expected to hear in their corner of Dark Bramble, though, was thrusters. Especially thrusters without the follow-up of an anglerfish immediately giving chase. It’d certainly happened to them enough times during the trip that stranded them here. They set their harmonica aside and squinted at the fog, searching for any sign that the ship was close to their camp…only for a BANG to resound from the back of the skeleton, followed by…voices?

“Stars above, are you trying to get us both killed!?”

“It was just the landing gear, I can bend it back into shape in three seconds!”

“We won’t have three seconds if every anglerfish in this…abomination against nature is after us!”

“The frequency–”

“Shut up about the frequency! You don’t think that landing was louder?” 

“It’s not about how loud it is, it’s about how unpleasant it is, first of all. Second–”

Feldspar was loath to move out of range of the gravity crystal, but they couldn’t lie that they were intrigued. The arguing voices were unmistakably familiar, and as they crept to the very edge of their camp, they could see two figures in spacesuits, floating toward the camp from a ship wedged between the skeleton’s tailbones. They were about the same height and build as each other, although one of them wore a noticeably shabbier spacesuit–Feldspar recognized it as the training spacesuit from the zero-g cave. That thing was barely spaceworthy, it didn’t even have proper boosters on the jetpack, and they already admired anyone who’d be willing to fly all the way out to Dark Bramble wearing it.

The figure in the training suit was reading their companion the riot act as the two of them floated closer. “–and you just start banging on my door, rambling about how ‘there’s no time to explain, just put this on’ and drag me out in that deathtrap Slate calls a ship–and you know how much I hate that you even climbed into that hunk of junk–but you beg me to trust you, and I do because you’re my sibling and at least if I’m with you I know what you’re getting up to, and to reward my trust you bring me to Dark Bramble of all places, the entire time flying like an absolute maniac and only by some sort of completely insane luck not ending up down some anglerfish’s gullet!”

Oh, now that voice was a sound for sore ears. Feldspar could scarcely believe it–they almost didn’t until the other figure cut in with, “Zirc, you’re blowing it out of proportion.” Stars above, Tourmaline had gotten big. They’d barely been old enough to operate a signalscope last time Feldspar had seen them, and now they were blasting off all by themself. Well, almost by themself. Seems they’d brought Zircon along for the ride. Good. There was a lot of lost time to make up with everyone on Timber Hearth, of course, but Zircon…

The pair came within range of the gravity crystal, and Feldspar stepped back a bit so it wasn’t too obvious they’d been eavesdropping. Zircon seemed to be wrapping up their rant. “I just wish you’d be a little more careful; if not for your sake, then for mine. I know you’re not deliberately reckless, but when you get like this you’re worse than–” They stopped in their tracks, seeming to notice just who they and their younger sibling were standing in front of. “Feldspar?” They froze in their tracks, their tone shifting from frustration to a combination of relief and disbelief in just that one word, before turning back toward Tourmaline. “Why didn’t you..?”

Tourmaline shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d believe me. Thought maybe you’d accuse me of playing with your feelings or something. Also, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. But yeah. Feldspar’s still kickin’ around.”

“Kickin’ more than that,” Feldspar interjected, walking backward toward the campfire and motioning for Zircon and Tourmaline to follow. “Pull up a marshmallow stick, you two, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

“Sorry, I can’t stick around that long,” Tourmaline quickly replied, turning to leave. “I, uh, heard something really weird on my ship’s signalscope while I was navigating here and I wanna go check it out. Zirc, you wanna hang out here while I investigate? I won’t be long.”

“Tourmaline, what are you–” Zircon turned to grab their sibling’s shoulder, but Tourmaline put up a hand to stop them.

“Trust me, you’re a lot safer in this guy’s jaws,” they motioned to the roof of the anglerfish skeleton’s mouth, “than anywhere else in Dark Bramble.”

“The hatchling’s right,” Feldspar added. “No beasties will bother us here…and I’d love to catch up with you.” They winked. It wasn’t visible through the helmet, of course, but judging from the way Zircon tensed up at that last part, the message came through loud and clear.

“Fine,” Zircon relented, arms dropping to their sides. “Just…don’t do anything that’ll get you killed, please? For me?”

“If getting here didn’t kill me, nothing else will,” Tourmaline reassured, before gently motioning their head toward the campfire. “Go take a load off. I’ll be back.” They dashed off before Zircon could respond, and Feldspar heard the sound of thrusters again, fading away this time.

“Still just as subtle as they were back then, huh?” Feldspar said, settling back down to where they’d been sitting before the ship arrived, patting the ground next to them and looking at Zircon expectantly. “Crazy that they’re all grown up now.”

Zircon didn’t move. They stood where Tourmaline left them, staring at Feldspar, as if frozen in place. It put Feldspar in mind of someone watching the Quantum Moon–as if Zircon thought that, if they moved or blinked or did anything to break their focus, they’d be left standing alone in an abandoned campsite. Finally, after what felt like forever, they spoke, their voice wavering. “Everyone thought you were dead.”

“What, me? Not a chance.”

“Nobody else in the village would ever admit that, of course. Hearthian optimism at its finest. They’d say you were missing, or that you never came back, or that you’d disappeared, or they’d just awkwardly trail off after they said your name. But I thought–I knew–that you were dead.”

Feldspar stood up, approaching their old friend. “Zircon…” they murmured, unsure how to react.

“I cried, you know? When Hornfels told me they’d lost your signal? And for so long after that. It was so long before I could be alone for even an hour without thinking about you and breaking down. And having everyone else pretend that there was a chance you’d come back, that someone would find you, that one day someone would turn on their signalscope and hear you again–it just felt like they were dragging it out longer. Like instead of just letting me pull off the bandage in one go, they were making me gradually peel it away, so I felt every single cell of my skin individually separating from the adhesive, and it was agonizing.” Their voice trembled even more. “There’s so much I want to say to you that I thought I’d never get to say, and now…” they trailed off.

“Guess that makes two of us,” Feldspar responded with an awkward chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. “Come on,” they extended a hand, “come sit by the fire and you can–”

Zircon cut them off, gripping their shoulders, and Feldspar could feel their glare through the helmet. “Some part of me wants to throttle you for being so reckless again, just like you always are, you always worried me so sick doing all those stupid dangerous stunts…the few times I thought about you and didn’t cry I was fuming, I was so angry that you’d done the one thing I always hoped you wouldn’t do and gotten yourself killed on one of your daring adventures…ugh.” They softened their grip. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t want the first thing I did when I saw you again to be berating you. I know that whatever you did to end up here wasn’t something you did on purpose. You’re too reckless for your own good, but you aren’t foolish.”

Feldspar pulled them into a hug, unable to stop themself from smiling. “All these years and you’re still such a worrywart,” they said fondly. “Can’t imagine how you’d have reacted if I’d made it back home. You’d try to have me grounded, wouldn’t you? ‘Feldspar’s not fit to fly, they went to Dark Bramble willingly! Nobody in their right mind would do that!’”

“Nobody in their right mind would come here,” Zircon replied, returning the hug and squeezing even tighter. “But I’m glad I had that particular lapse in judgment. Sorry for dumping on you like that. I’m really happy you’re okay.”

“Stars above, I missed you,” Feldspar responded. “Glad you didn’t worry yourself to death over me before I could see you again.”

“I don’t like seeing you in danger,” Zircon protested. “I know it bothers you because you have this reputation as a thrill-seeking daredevil whose last words are going to be ‘watch this’, but I only get that way because I…”

“Because you what?” Feldspar teased, pulling away from the hug but holding onto Zircon’s arms, cocking their head to the side. “Because you love me?” There was a bit of hope behind the joke. Not much hope; their half-joking flirtations had never landed back then, at least not as anything more than jokes. Still, they hoped this one would make Zircon smile, if nothing else.

It didn’t work. Zircon clenched their fists so hard their hands shook, and if they hadn’t been crying before the sound of their voice told Feldspar they definitely were now. “Because I don’t want to lose you that way. Because I don’t want you to die pointlessly just for a stupid adrenaline rush. And you know what? Yeah. Because I love you. I’ve learned that it definitely hurt so much more to know you were dead and I could never tell you how I felt, so I’m going to tell you while I still have the chance. I love you. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to love me back, but now you know. Are you happy now?”

Oh. That…was not the response Feldspar had been expecting, and they didn’t know how to react. They let go of Zircon’s arms and stepped back. “…wow. I feel like a real jerk now. You never seemed like you were actually into me back home, I…thought that would make you laugh like all my other lines did. I’m real sorry. Let’s…let’s get closer to the fire, there’s more air over there. Don’t wanna get tears all over your visor.” They reached out their hand again, and this time Zircon took it.

Neither of them spoke until they were both settled next to each other by the fire, helmets off and resting on the log behind them. Despite the tension in the air mingling with the campfire smoke, Feldspar couldn’t deny that Zircon still looked just as good as they had years ago. They’d have commented on it, but…that probably wouldn’t go well right now. Zircon finally broke the silence, calmer this time. “That was another thing I was meaning to ask you. Your ‘lines’...did you really mean those?”

It would have been easy to just say “yes” or “of course I did” or “you’re the only one I ever joked with that way, so I guess either way I was trying to tell you I liked you” or anything along those lines. That was the safe option. But…well, Feldspar was an incorrigible risk-taker with a habit of acting first and then thinking about it later. So instead, they leaned over and kissed Zircon square on the lips. When they pulled away, they did so with a cockeyed grin and a “That answer your question?”

Zircon froze again, blinking as though they were registering what had just happened. Then, once they’d processed everything, they were gripping Feldspar’s scarf like a lifeline, kissing them back so hard the two of them almost fell completely over from how far they were leaning. It was long and intense, so consuming that it was hard to hear anything else–not the fire, not the anglerfish, not anything.

Especially not jetpack thrusters or footsteps. When Zircon finally released Feldspar (who would swear they hadn’t been that dizzy since their first zero-g training), the two of them were finally able to notice the flickering shadow cast over them both. Tourmaline was back, and seemed amused by what they’d just seen. “You owe me an apology for lying to me when I was little, Zirc. You are too sweet on Feldspar.”

Feldspar couldn’t help but laugh at that. “They’ve got you there,” they told Zircon, gazing at them with a woozy smile.

For the first time since they’d shown up, Zircon finally smiled, a huffed laugh escaping their lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

[reunitedinterlude]

philip, derived from the greek name philippos, meaning ‘fond of horses’

bonus:

[flixiastar]

Happy twf again but the

[dear-ao3]

every time i get to a new stage of adult hood im like really?? you think im old enough for this?? me??? really??????

[crimeronan]

i've seen a couple people in the notes of this very good post about fictional polyamory by @thebibliosphere say things along the lines of "oh, i've been doing it wrong :(" or "how do i know if i did this right??" or "i should probably give up and start over, i wrote this badly :(" and. no!!!!

(i AM seeing far MORE people say "oh, this clarified and helped me so much, i think i know how to fix issues i've been having with my own story" which. YES!!!!)

listen. if you're a monogamous person who's writing a polyamorous relationship, and you've been focusing mainly on The Triad and All Three Together All The Time as the endgame, that's literally fine. that's a perfectly acceptable and strong starting point for your plotting, imo. you do not need to give up on a story that you've started like this.

but the things discussed in the post Can and Should improve your execution!

you can keep the same plot beats and overall relationship arc 100%. polyamorous relationships are infinite in their formations, every one is unique. "basically a monogamous romance but with three people" Does exist, as a relationship type. you're not hashtag Misrepresenting (TM) poly people with it

BUT i do think it will help to read up on some poly people talking about how their relationships Differ from monogamous ones.

so i have outlined some basic important concepts about polyamory.

MORE IMPORTANTLY though, i've broken down some questions that you can answer throughout the writing process to strengthen your individual dyad relationships, your individual characterization, & your characters' individual feelings/experiences. this is a writing resource have fun

future kitkat butting in to say i spent over two hours writing this and it definitely needs a readmore. it is also NOT comprehensive. but everything should be pretty simple to follow! feel free to reblog if you find it helpful yourself or just want to reward me for how gotdan long this took KSLDKFJKDL.

i've grabbed quick links for a couple of the important concepts, some have SEO pitches in them but the info largely seems to be good. (if i missed anything Egregiously Gross on these sites i should be able to update the links with better ones later, since they're under the readmore.)

sidenote: this is NOT meant to be overwhelming, despite the length. if you can't read all of this, that's Okay. you do not need to give up on your writing.

here we go:

compersion!

compersion is a BIG thing in a lot of polyamorous relationships. it's joy derived from seeing two (or more) of your partners happy together, or joy derived from seeing your partner happy with someone else.

compersion is really important as a concept because it highlights that every individual relationship within a polycule is different -- and that that's a GOOD thing. it's sort of the inverse of jealousy.

by the "inverse of jealousy," i mean that instead of feeling left out and upset and possessive, you feel happy/joyous/content.

i can use personal experience as an example: it's a Relief for me when my partners receive joy/support/sex/romance/etc that i can't (or prefer not to) give them. and i love seeing my partners make each other laugh and be silly together.

it's 100% okay for a poly triad not to be together 100% of the time, it doesn't mean that the third member is being left out or not treated equally when two people do things alone together.

(i have individual dates with my partners all the time! PLUS larger 3-and-4-person date nights.)

if the third member DOES feel jealous or left out, then the polycule can have a conversation to figure out what needs/wants aren't being met, and solve that. this happens semi-regularly in my polycule, as it will happen in any relationship (including monogamous ones)! it's just part of being an adult, sometimes you have to talk about feelings.

metamours!

a metamour is someone who is dating your partner, but ISN'T dating you. this may not be relevant for people writing closed three-person romantic sexual triads, but it's a super helpful term to know.

the linked article also lists different types of metamour relationships with some fun phrasing i hadn't heard before. the tl;dr is: sometimes you'll be domestic cohabitation friends, sometimes you'll be buddies with your own friendship, sometimes you might not interact much outside of parties, every relationship is different.

there's no one-size-fits-all requirement for metamour relationships. sometimes polyamorous people will end up dating their metamour after a while (has happened to me), sometimes polyamorous people will break up with one partner for normal life reasons, but remain friendly metamours.

the goal of polyamory is NOT for EVERYONE to fall in love. it is 100% okay if this happens in your story, it happens in real life too! but it is also 100% okay for characters to be metamours without ever becoming "more than friends."

(sidenote: try to kill any internalized "more than" that you have when it comes to friendship. friends are just as important and special and vital as partners.)

of course there are a million ways for messiness to occur with metamours within a complex polycule, exactly like with close-knit platonic friend groups. however this post is not about that! there's enough "here's how polyamory can go wrong" stuff out there already, so i'm focusing on the positives here :)

open versus closed polyamorous relationships!

i'm struggling to find an online article that reflects my experience without directly contradicting at least SOME stuff. so i'll give a quick rundown

google has a bunch of conflicting definitions of open relationships and whether open relationships are different from polyamory. the general consensus seems to be that an open relationship prioritizes one partnership (often a marriage), but that each partner can have extraneous flings or long-term commitments (most often sexual in nature).

this is not typically how i use the term wrt polyamory. the poly concept is pretty simple. a closed polyamorous relationship is one with boundaries like a monogamous one. there are multiple partners in the polycule, but they are not interested in having anybody new join said polycule.

an open polyamorous relationship tends to be more flexible -- it just means that IF someone in the polycule develops mutual feelings for a new person, it's fine for them to become part of said polycule if they want to! the relationship/person is open to newcomers.

some groups will need to negotiate this all together, others will just go "haha, you kids have fun." just depends on the individuals!

with open AND closed polyamorous relationships, the most important thing is making sure that there's respectful communication and that everyone is on the same page. but there's no one-size-fits-all way to do that.

i wish i could give you guys a prescriptive "You Must Do It This Way" guide, but that's.... basically the opposite of what polyamory is about, HAHA.

feelings for multiple people!

i was gonna tack this on to the previous section but decided it warranted its own lil bit.

a defining feature (....i'm told?) of monogamous relationships is that a monogamous person only has feelings for One individual at a time. they only want a relationship with one individual at a time. or, if they DO have feelings for multiple people simultaneously, they're still only comfortable dating one person at a time & being exclusive with that one person.

this is perfectly fine!

the poly experience is generally different from this. but once again..... polyamorous people all have different individual perspectives on this.

for me, i have never been able to draw hard boxes around romantic vs sexual vs platonic relationships, & i love many people at once. my personal polycule lacks many strict definitions beyond "these are my chosen people, i want to forge a life with them indefinitely, whatever shape that life takes"

some poly people feel explicit romantic or sexual attraction to multiple people at once, some poly people feel almost no romantic or sexual attraction at all. i'd say that MOST poly people feel different things for different partners, which is not a bad thing!

some poly people are even monogamous-leaning -- they have just chosen one romantic partner who is themselves part of a larger polycule. (so this monogamous-leaning person has at least one metamour!)

or alternatively, they might have one romantic partner AND a qpr, or other ways of defining relationships. (this is a factor in my own polycule!)

i made this its own point because if you're writing a straightforward triad, this is unlikely to come up in the story itself -- but it's worth thinking about how your characters develop/handle feelings outside of their partnerships.

like, is this sort of a soulmateship, 'these are the only ones for me' type deal? in which they won't fall in love with anyone else, and can be fairly certain of that?

that's pretty close to typical monogamous standards but you Can make it work. just be thoughtful with it

alternatively, can you see any of these characters falling in love Again after the happily-ever-after? and how would the triad approach it, if so? what would they all need to talk about beforehand, and what feelings would everybody have about the situation?

it's worth considering these questions even if the hypothetical will never feature in your actual canon, because knowing the answers to these questions will help you understand all of the individuals & their relationship(s) MUCH better.

i've been typing this for nearly two hours and there's a lot more i COULD say because... there's just a lot to say. i'll close out with some quick questions that you can ask yourself when developing the dyad dynamics within your triad

first, take a page and create a separate section for each individual dyad. then answer these questions for every pair:

how does each pair act when alone?

how do they act differently alone compared to when they're with their third partner?

are there any elements of this dyad (romantic, sexual, financial, domestic, etc) that these two people DON'T have with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

are there any boundaries or hard limits within this dyad that aren't shared with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

partner 3 goes out of town alone for a few weeks. what are the remaining two doing in their absence?

(doesn't have to be anything special, it's just to get a sense of how the two interact on a day-by-day basis without the third there)

what is something that each partner in the dyad admires about the other -- that they DON'T necessarily see in the third partner?

what problem do These Two Specifically need to solve in the story before their relationship will work?

how is that problem DIFFERENT from the problems being solved within the other two dyads?

doing this for ALL THREE dyads is VITAL imo. that way, you develop complex and nuanced and different relationships that all have unique dynamics.

those questions should be enough to get you started, i hope

then After you've charted the differences in relationships, you can start to jot down similarities in the overarching triad. what does one person admire in Both of their partners? what are activities that all three like to do together? what are boundaries or discussions that all three share?

but the main goal is to figure out how to Differentiate each relationship!

a polycule is only as strong as the individual relationships within it. if two people are struggling with their own relationship, adding a third person won't fix that.

(UNLESS the third person is the catalyst for those two to, like, Actually Communicate And Work Their Shit Out. i just mean that the old adage of "maybe if we just add a third-" works about as well to fix a miserable non-communicative marriage as, uh, "maybe if we have a baby-")

AND FINALLY.

if you're not sure whether your poly romance reads organically to poly people, you can hire a sensitivity reader with poly experience. if you can't afford that, you can read up on polyamorous resources like a glossary of terms & articles actually written by poly people. (and stories written by poly people!)

you can also just.... ask poly people questions, if they're open to it. i like talking about polyamory and my own relationships so you're welcome to send asks if u want, i just can't guarantee i'll answer bc my energy levels fluctuate a lot and i don't always have time.

polyamorous people are in an uphill battle for positive representation right now & so the LAST thing i want to see is authors giving up on their stories bc they're worried about getting things Wrong. well-meaning and positive stories that treat this kind of love as normal, healthy, & aspirational are So So So Needed. even if you guys end up with some funky-feeling details.

seriously, if you're monogamous then you probably don't have a full idea of Just How Nasty a lot of people can get about polyamory. i wish it DIDN'T mean so much for you guys to want to write nice stories about us, but it does mean a lot. and it means a lot that you want to do it WELL.

in conclusion. this is not a prescriptive guide, it's just a way to raise questions. and also, you all are doing FINE.

[backwaterotter]

I've been cooking up a pretty simple AU concept, surrounding a simple idea: What if Purple had been deleted for slightly too long. What if there were permanent after-effects? Then, the only theoretical differentiation between canon and this au concept would be a second of waiting time.

Anyway, I'm working on a fic to go with it, I hope people will enjoy it! You can read it here!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[yourhighness6]

Me, screaming into the void: I DON'T HATE MAI I JUST FEEL LIKE SHE NEEDED MORE DEVELOPMENT OUTSIDE OF ZUKO AND HER ARC SHOULDN'T REVOLVE AROUND HER LOVE INTEREST

Also me, still screaming into the void: I DON'T HATE AANG I JUST QUESTION WHETHER HIS ROMANTIC INTEREST IN KATARA BRINGS OUT THE BEST SIDES OF HIM AND FEEL AS THOUGH HE AND HIS DEVELOPMENT IS NOT ABOVE NECESSARY CRITICISM

[fates-theysband]

i caught a glimmer of what i was hoping to see

a fic loosely based on the events of literally every damb loop where i first learn to meditate in an outer wilds run. what if i ended up stranded on your island (and we were both loop aware theyliens 😳😳😳😳😳)

cws: none of this is actually Depicted but there's implications of asphyxiation and suicide as well as canon-typical mention of apocalypse scenarios

words: more than i planned! (1.8k)

--

Traveler’s Log, Loop #…I’ll figure it out later!

When I break this loop I’m probably REALLY going to regret putting this in my ship log. I can already hear Hornfels bending my ear for using a research and discovery documentation tool as my diary, but my options are writing it down or telling someone about it. And…well, Hal would tease me so hard I might actually die from it, I feel like it’d be really insensitive to tell Zirc something like this after what happened last time I stuck around Timber Hearth, and anyone else would be weirded out that I’m telling them something this personal. So I’m writing it down.

Let me set the scene. I’d finally managed to land on the Orbital Probe Cannon—trying to chase it down without getting caught in Giant’s Deep’s gravitational pull is hard enough but actually maneuvering yourself to land on the landing pad without breaking anything important? Forget it—and I was investigating inside when…I’m not proud of this, but I saw that weird cloudy moon again, and I realized the cannon was hurtling toward it. “This is great!” I thought to myself. “Landing on it with my ship didn’t work, but maybe if I were to jump out of that big empty spot where the tracking module broke off once the cannon gets close enough? I just gotta keep eyes on it…”

Bad news, it didn’t work. Something about getting close to the moon counts as “ceasing observation” whether you’re in your ship or not. And not only did it not work, but in the process of it not working I was left with my jetpack fuel running on empty so there was no way I was making it back to my ship unless I wanted to drain my O2 in the process. Good news, I didn’t drift off into space and get stranded again! Definitely didn’t need a repeat performance of loop 4. Dark side of the bad news, I did almost take an island to the face. Again. But this time it was flying up at me instead of falling down at me. Which I guess means it would technically be a different way to reset than I did before?

The point is, the island didn’t hit me this time. I was able to get a grip on one of the branches on a cliffside tree before it fell back beneath the cloud cover. Not a great situation, but it’s a lot better than being stranded in space or plummeting into the ocean with no landmasses in sight. I could climb down once the island could reasonably be considered terra firma and go from there. Not ideal, but I could probably recover?

Well, hypothetical future reader who hopefully will be post-loop me about to delete this and write in a real journal and not ground control thinking that this is going to lead to actual information Outer Wilds Ventures can use, the suffering did not end there! I’d been too busy, you know, hearing my heart pounding in my ears after the moon disappeared to notice any other sounds around me, nor did I really have a lot of time to look down before grabbing onto that branch, or figure out how far up I was, or check how sturdy the branch was, or make basically any judgments about whether this was really a better idea than getting stuck in space again, I just knew that it was an option that was not getting stuck in space again. Which was enough for me.

Anyway, the second the island hit the water, the branch I was holding on to snapped and I plummeted to a different kind of doom entirely–I somehow managed to not land on anything that would hurt me too bad physically, but…I feel like I’m going to die from embarrassment just typing this. I landed on Gabbro. Broke one of their hammock strings. Made them drop their flute, saw it get swept away in the few seconds the island went underwater, so I had that on my conscience too. Surprised I didn’t hurt them, or at least they didn’t give any indication that I did.

What’s even worse is that they were still cool about it. They just chuckled and said, “Hey, time buddy. Nice of you to drop in.” I’m sure they weren’t trying to twist the knife but stars above did it feel so much worse to hear them remind me that hey! If I’d embarrassed myself this bad in front of anyone else they’d at least forget once the sun went and everything reset, but there was nothing I could do to ensure Gabbro would forget this.

I was in a worse panic mode at this point than I had been when I was in space. I scrambled to my feet, reached down to try and help them up. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh, stars above, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I didn’t see you, or hear you, or–”

They shook their head and made no move to stand up. “Relax, you just knocked the air out of me. And hey, that’s what I planted the trees to help with so, no big deal.”

“At least let me help you set your hammock back up, I feel awful for knocking it down like that. Oh, stars above, this is just like last year’s village fair all over again…” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t feel like getting up again,” they answered, putting a hand behind their head and relaxing more (which, it was wild to realize that Gabbro is capable of relaxing more than they already have whenever I see them). “And I heard they were able to patch that hole in the observatory roof just fine. You’d never be able to tell if you didn’t see it happen.” They patted the ground next to them and looked expectantly (I think? The helmets are polarized. Hard to tell what expression anyone is making) up at me.

“Whoever told you that was lying, it’s so obvious what happened.” I sat down next to them, drawing my knees to my chest. I could still hear my heart beating in my ears. “I…really don’t understand how you take everything so in stride. Even knowing it was an accident and everything’s going to reset, how aren’t you at least annoyed that I ruined your whole setup?”

They attempted a shrug–it didn’t look very much like one from the position they were in, but I got the point. “What would that do? I’ll wake up in a few minutes and have to set the whole thing back up anyway. Until then, the sand is soft, and my flute’s probably hanging out with my ship somewhere, so it’s not lonely. And you’re here with me, so it’s a fair trade.” 

I could have passed out. I feel like I’m going to pass out typing this down after the fact. What did they mean, “and you’re here with me, so it’s a fair trade”? I definitely couldn’t say anything normal in response to that–I think I tried to but I made some kind of weird choking noise instead before spluttering out “Thank you.” Not my finest…er, 22-minute loop period.

Gabbro snickered a bit as they sat up, just enough to meet my eyes. “You are so welcome, buddy. And, uh, by the way…what were you doing in that tree?”

“I did something stupid and dangerous that I thought would work, it didn’t, your island was in grabbing distance, and I figured it was better than drifting out to space and emptying both my tanks chasing after the probe cannon to get back to my ship.” I could feel my face burning as I quickly rushed the explanation out. They probably weren’t going to say any more extremely sweet things to me after hearing that.

“Wow,” they responded, lying back down. “Wish I could think on my feet like that. I’d probably still be up there if that was me. Then I’d have to use my secret technique to skip to the end.”

I stood extremely corrected. And also a little alarmed. “That’s…kinda morbid.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not what you’re thinking. I meditate. It’s a lot less painful.” They went quiet for a moment, as if they were thinking about something. “How long has it been since you woke up?”

“Like…between getting here, exploring the probe cannon, my little ill-fated spacewalk, and running into you, I’d say at least seventeen minutes?” I looked up at the sky as though I’d see anything but clouds. I didn’t. “I can’t see the sun so it’s hard to tell.”

“Want me to teach you? Shouldn’t take long. You seem like you could use the mental break.”

They had me there. It was kinda sad to think about cutting it short when I’d finally gotten to a point where I wasn’t convinced they thought I was a loser and a terrible astronaut, but hey. If nothing else, I could rest assured neither of us would forget. I nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Cool. Just lay back and close your eyes,” they said, already seeming to slow down their breathing.

I obliged, stretching out from my curled up sitting position and lying down on my back next to them. They were right. The sand was soft. I was closing my eyes as I felt something wrap around my hand, and turned to notice Gabbro’s hand in mine.

It was hard to tell with the helmet, but they turned their head away in what I thought (hoped?) might have been shyness or embarrassment. “Oh. You know, in case the island gets flung into space again. Don’t wanna get separated.”

For the first time since this loop began, I smiled. “Yeah. Would defeat the purpose of the whole exercise.” I turned my head back to face the sky and gave their hand a squeeze as I closed my eyes again. “What’s the next step?”

“Only other step there is. Take deep, slow breaths. Match my breathing, if you want. It’ll be the next loop before you know it.”

I don’t know how long the two of us laid there, breathing in sync, slowly, gently. I know that when I opened my eyes I was on Timber Hearth, looking up at Giant’s Deep, watching the cannon explode again. And I know that Slate made some remark about how I must have had a good dream because I was smiling when I got up. And I know…

Oh, stars above, how long have I been writing this? The sun’s huge. There’s no way I can get anything done this loop. Time to see if that technique will work again. Tourmaline out.

[ocwonderland]

Write an r/AmITheAsshole post told from your OC’s perspective. (Bonus: include replies from your other OCs.)

[deoidesign]

Thinking about vampires, death, life, and the space they occupy in between

[theminecraftbee]

task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

[nyancrimew]

what about you (current irl body) x you (kitten)

enticing

[davycoquette]

Character Writing Exercises

I was going to make this a tagging game & include my taglist, but it's pretty involved and I don't want anyone to feel pressured to do it if it's a chore/they don't want to/it's not helpful to them.

Below are some exercises I find really, really useful for pulling brand new characters out of my ass. Barring that, they're fun to do for existing characters as well!

Paint a picture of a character by describing their bedroom while they’re not in it.

Whip up a new one right now, fall back on a tried and true OC. Or a canon character; I’m not the boss of you.

Shuffle a playlist on your music player of choice. For whichever song plays, describe what you “see” with your imagination.

For those of you who struggle to “see” imagined things, just tell me what’s goin’ on in that beautiful noodle of yours. Also, please tell me the song so I can listen to it while I read this part!

Describe a character by turning out their pockets.

what has it got in its pocketses?

An abandoned and unlocked phone (or wallet, if you wanna go back a coupla decades) has been discovered in a ratty little diner bathroom. What’s in there? What does it tell us about its owner?

Think photos, payment methods, notes, messages, Internet searches, receipts, etc. If cell phones and Waffle Houses aren't things in your character's world, pretend they are.

If you do all or some of these, please tag me because I would be overjoyed to read them!