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sergeantnarwhalwrites · 2 years ago

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Masterlist Thing For My Major WIPs

I figured doing this would make everybody’s life easier. XD I also don’t have good enough summaries for my WIPs (in my opinion) to make WIP intros. I’ll update chapter links and stuff as I go along and will maybe probably make a taglist for my stuff (if I don’t forget).

WIP Info

Space Don’t Dictate Fate (Reworking!)

Summary (We'll figure that out later 👍🏾)

Mostly post snippets. Will answer worldbuilding or oc asks for this one. Story basically just started over again from scratch.

Trailer for the og version here!

Hunter (Modern AU for SDDF) here!

Main characters: Arc (they/them), Tharion (he/him), Cosma(she/her), and Greeter(she/they)

Face Claim/Art for main characters here.

Robots and Gardens (still in the drafting process)

Summary: Imagine how the now present world was imagined and awed upon by previous generations mixed with how it actually is in the present world. Industrialization, overworked employees, coorporate slaves, so many robots, cool technology, hope for a better world. Until it all decides to collapse in a way no one saw coming. Who are we going to take down to stop everything from crumbling.

You can ask me all kinds of questions about this one. XD It’s no where neardone though. I post actual chapters of this... sometimes. XD I’m trying my best. I have a couple chapters out so far which you can read here. Chapters 1/2/3/

Main characters: Digits (she/her), Green (she/her), Peace (she/her), Donnie (he/they), Hollis (she/her)

Face claim/picrew for main characters here.

Fucked at Five (my newest wip!) (may or may not change the title)

Summary (that I have so far): Morphers. An extreme genetic modification that has been gifted by the impatience of the world and the power of science. Morphers have the ability to morph their form into a more animalistic form. All of these forms vary in composition and severity. Morphers are monsters to human kind. Human kind are monsters to morphers. Morphers might just be the new superior, humans are just far too arrogant to see it.

You can ask me all kinds of questions about this one as well. XD I’m still figuring stuff out though.

Main characters: Elliot (he/him), Saz (she/her), Julie (she/her), Ian (he/it)

Face claim/picrew for characters right here.

Character Inspired Playlists here

Character info (General)

Voiceclaims sorta here

Awesome piccrews most of my ocs here

Digits Prosthetic Schematics here

Some art I drew of Digit's prosthetics. A little messy but very detailed descriptions.

Ramblings about fighting styles (Fucked at Five) here

Space Don't Dictate Fate Fits here

SDDF Body Mods here!

Random Writes!

This is stuff that aren’t any of my major wips. This will be stuff like random prompts or random scenes that can or won’t be related to my main three WIPs. More often not related. This is a lot of the stuff I write, especially when I head back to campus. It can be a mixture of study’s (where I’m practicing a specific thing like action scenes, kiss scenes, grief, etc.), poetry, story’s that drop in at random ass points. Half of the time they won't have titles XD and the characters won't have names.

Cravings (the only finished one for real XD)

Can read that here! cw: blood, gore, cannibalism, sex mention.

Melancholic Alcoholic (Poem from awhile ago)

Can read that here!

Cute tag game I did with Green and Peace

Here

Untitled quick write story here

CW: Suicide, Suicidal ideation, suicide attempt mention, and gore.

Dero Was Here (story here)

CW: Violence, death, gods, fantasy religion

An Unwelcomed Gift here

CW: Violence, gods, fantasy religion, body horror (sort of), death, blood (a little), gore (eh a little not really)

Random Fucked at Five Stuff here! and here!

Crushing on the Mortuary Man here!

CW: Gore, necrophilia, cannibalism mention, body horror, vomit.

My Characters as excerpts from poems I've written here

Give it some love. I think this is a good insight on some of my characters! And it's a quick glimpse at some of my poetry that I rarely post.

Appetite here!

No content warnings I think. Just a short kinda violent little story. 👍🏾

Song based blurb here!

Cw: suggestive content, alcohol

Untitled Poem here!

Daughter here!

Another poem I wrote for creative writing class.

Weird Little Story here!

CW: Unsettling, vomit

Somethin' About Me here!

Cw: suicide mention.

A little poem I found in my notes app.

Soft Moment Between Friends here!

A little Robots & Gardens scene.

Random Robots & Gardens Thing here!

Just a random little thought that came to mind XD. Green fucked up.

Green and her knife here!

A couple random robots & gardens blurbs revolving around Green and her weapon.

Clothes Swap here!

Cw: nsfw

Peace borrows clothes from Green and other stuff ensues.

The Arrangement here!

Cw: nsfw

Saz and Julie have an agreement and they enjoy themselves.

Green and Digits Character Study here!

Green and Digits from Robots & Gardens first meeting each other. Gay bonding and acquaintanceship ensues

Saz's Fear here!

A quick little blurb about a goofy fear Saz has.

Dark's Love is Bright here!

A cool concept of Dark versus Light.

Halloween WBW Snippet here!

Kid Peace and Green show you a glimpse of what their Halloween's were like.

Saz and Elliot Big Post here!

Saz and Elliot start talking about morphing and training. Doodles attached.

Julie and Saz Mush here!

Julie and Saz being cute. Julie calls Saz pretty after a long day of getting insulted by the elder morphers. Saz's day brightens.

Julie Kicks Saz's Ass here!

Julie and Saz have a training match. And as the title says Saz get's fucking ruined.

A Morning Away here!

Peace and Green have a morning to themselves and decide to use it.

Cw: nsfw

The Worker And The Protestor here!

A dive into Digits at work and the protestor (Peace) that brightens her day.

Smut Scene Prompt Response here and here!

Saz and Julie's safeword sorta/Julie's shy under Saz's affection

Cw: nsfw

Green and Peace Prompt Responses 1 & 2

Green and Peace get busy at church/Peace gets sick and Green takes care of her.

Cw: nsfw

Unrequited here!

A quick poem I wrote while hella in my feelings

Cw: suggestive

Fighting it Out here!

A very brief fight scene between Ian and Elliot

Mighty Morphing People Eaters + here!

Something where I dive into the fact that most morphers have eaten people before.

Cw: body horror (kinda), human consumption

Leftovers here!

Very quick Saz and Julie thing where Julie both encourages Saz and brings her down

Cw: human consumption (mentioned), blood

Hollis the Multifaceted here!

Hollis character study

Cosma and Greeter here!

Space Don't Dictate Fate content for the first time in a long time holy shit

Cw: suggestive

Bookshelf here!

A quick poem I wrote clearing my bookshelf

Random poem here!

Who's Greeter to You? here!

Space Don't Dictate Fate content

Random Thought SDDF here

Space Don't Dictate Fate content

Quick Poem (No title) here!

Cw: suggestive

The Morphers (A series) 1/2/3

Cw: body horror, gore, death

Arc and Tharion here!

Space Don't Dictate Fate Content

Arc Asks A Lot of Questions here!

Arc actually trying to learn more about Tharion

Tharion Fucking With Arc here!

SDDF content

A bit of Saz and worldbuilding here!

Two Deer Morphers Walk Into a Bar... here!

Cw: nsfw

Green and Donnie Snippet here!

A bit of bloody admiration here!

Saz and Julie are gay and covered in gore

No Name's Learned Lessons here!

Cyborg vs Tech here!

#writeblr #wips #wip intros kinda #long post

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alexandriasqueen · 7 years ago

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She and Her

Secrets, secrets are no fun

Unless you share with everyone

Carve out her secrets, hold me down

Find the girl that can’t be found

On the surface, see her there

Turquoise eyes, deep brown hair

Painted skin, painted lips

Desperate for one wanted kiss

Dressed to kill and begging to die

Hidden smile when loves drift by

The tightrope balance of real and fake

What’s hers to give, what’s mine to take

And take and take

until there is nothing left

A beatless heart, an empty chest

Her laugh rings out loud, until she cries

With holding roots she dreams of skies

And stars

And moons

Worlds away

But she remains planted, here to stay

Scarred with my secrets, hers to keep

You’ll find us there, lost in the deep

#poem #poems #poems on tumblr #quick write #first draft #rough draft #new writers on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writer #queenofalexandria #queen #alexandria #ryhmes #random thoughts #ideas #love #lost

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personalfreakshow · 2 years ago

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I have mixed feelings about Rupi Kaur. Truthfully, her writing is inherently bad, or at least it was last time I read it. Most of her poems aren't actually poems but tidbits of Facebook wisdom rebranded as the new commodification of art. While modern and abstract art have value and meaning, I found little to none in Rupi's work because most of her poems are so generic that they could apply to several different circumstances. I honestly believe that if I made a Facebook style inspiring post with one of her poems as a caption (without stating its her work) I would be bullied for being "fake deep" by all my mutual followers.

I say that her writing is inherently bad because barely any of her poems branch out in format or style. She does what all instagram poets and those just introduced to writing poetry do and just writes sentences and divides them in random spots. A good writer should know how to write good abstract poems while also knowing how to format a poem to be more lyrical or follow constricting formats because it takes skill to do.

That being said, in the few poems written by her that are longer (keep in mind I'm using "poem" loosely in this post), there are good ideas being thrown out. Especially in some of her newer work there are certain ideas, wording, and metaphors that I like. Still, it feels like most of her work is still in its draft phase and she just randomly wrote down the first poetic thought she had. A lot of her books feel like filler.

One reason I believe she's so popular is the commodification of art. She takes advantage of the fact that she can sell her one sentence ideas because they are fast and easy to read. More and more, I see people gravitating towards things they can finish fast and easy. I like to call it the TikTok effect. Platforms are promoting short, simple ideas, especially ones that are regurgitated, because they are easy for people to digest and like quickly. It also allows people to assign meaning to something so the actual writer or creator doesn't have to. This makes it appeal to everyone, specifically those who don't want to branch out and read or watch something that doesn't directly agree with them. Or something that they can't directly relate to. This sets up a near perfect environment for poets like Rupi Kaur to thrive. Basically, Rupi Kaur might be a bit of a genius for taking such quick and efficient control of this to market her art.

This also brings up the question: What is art? Could Rupi Kaur's poetry be defined as art? I once saw a post that compared her art to an abstract painting, but the truth is, writing is a very different medium than paintings. While abstract paintings can be beautiful because they are aesthetic, writing has to be crafted in a different way because the visuals it creates are in a person's mind. It takes both time and meaning to create a good piece of art. I am a firm believer that not all art is good art and art won't be good if it only consists of one of these. That's why creating art is a process, and one that takes time and practice. Nobody wakes up suddenly good at art and nobody becomes good at creating meaningful art if they don't try to do more than write and sentence and split it in half.

#writing #creative writing #writing advice #rupi kaur #poetry #writing help #what makes art #published writing #I strongly dislike rupee kaurs poetry but she seems nice enough #please understand that I actually have nothing against rupee kaur I just have beef with her writing #and I have beef with the commodification of art #and I have beef with your mom #sorry for making a your mom joke but actually I am not because I am the funniest person alive

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years ago

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As the creation of two calming waves crashing together, a calm ocean breeze is quickly birthed through them. And that calm ocean breeze is commonly known as Myth Anon, Former Ultimate Swimmer!

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BACKSTORY

Born to two happy owners of a beach house on a scenic and heart-rending beach, Myth knew how to swim, before she could even crawl, much like her older sisters before her. Upon entering middle school, she was encouraged to enter her school’s swim team and quickly became the star of the team. However, because she only likes to swim for fun, inner peace, and poetic inspiration, Myth eventually quit competing, but still managed to get enough coverage from the media to gain her Ultimate status. In her adult years, she is currently working part-time alongside her sisters at her parents’ beach house, and is currently studying to become a marine biologist, which she (unsurprisingly) turns out to be both very passionate and a veritable expert about.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Detective

Wyre and Myth have been only the best of friends ever since they were children and have met one faithful day on the beach. Although Wyre is also known for their criminal sketchworks and their skills as a physical enforcer/bodyguard, it’s Wyre‘s skills as a homicide detective that made Wyre gain their Ultimate status, that is still going strong (and even stronger) in their adult years. For the eternally scatterbrained and innocent swimmer, Wyre is usually around to watch over both her and her belongings and to prevent weirdos from trying anything funny with their friend. Myth really appreciates Wyre’s help in finding misplaced items and she just loves walking across the beach with them all the time.

Outfit: A brown overcoat and a light green and yellow striped vest and a black tie over a white button-up shirt, pants that match their overcoat, darker brown leather gloves and loafers.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Programmer

Famous for creating one of the first ever instances of self-sufficient, self-teaching, and ultimately benevolent AI (known by the code name “D-3M-0N”), Scar is also a big name in online role-playing groups, where she is known as “Mother-Board, the Master Technomancer”, a ruler of a tech-based science-fiction realm who is in charge of all the high-end technology in it. On particularly busy and sleepless nights, she can even be caught acting as Mother-Board herself. Because Myth lived in a tech-less beach house, she is absolutely clueless in the ways of modern technology, and that is where heroic Scar swoops in and tries her best to teach the swimmer the way of the computer.

Outfit: Messier hair that is done up in two messy side buns, a purple hoodie worn hood-up with black and white striped sleeves, a ruffled purple skirt, black and white striped stockings and purple boots, the mask from her original design.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Affluent Progeny

Despite only striking it rich very recently, Fusion’s business acumen helped expand his father’s failed company into a multi-million dollar industry and it also ensured that his noveau-riche parents’ finances would stay with them for a long time. He may get constantly underestimated by equally influential but longer-running business magnates, due to his situation and age. When not performing business operations, he loves gorging himself on lavish buffets and learning all he can from the massive library installed in his house. Upon entering the Kibo-Con, he began showering his fellow con-mates with lavish gifts. Needless to say, Myth really appreciated the life-sized plush walrus.

Outfit: Hair tied into a ponytail, a blue overcoat (that has a pocket watch in his right lapel) over a white button-up shirt, a pink vest, and a yellow and red striped tie, white gloves, pants that match his overcoat and the glasses and loafers from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Moral Compass

Fusion II attended a school with a rather high rate of delinquency, and, by the time she left for Hope’s Peak, all instances of delinquency have diminished in an instant. Claiming that she became a public moral committee because “you can‘t break the law, if you are the law” and ”I just want power”, Fusion II wishes to rise to the top of the corporate ladder and become like the rich magnates that she idolised so much, all to prove to her classmates that she is so much more than just a mousy little overachiever. Myth may not understand the moral compass’s dreams and ideals, but anyone who praises Myth’s mindset and thought process (read: actually unread sarcasm) must be a good person in her book.

Outfit: Fake reading glasses, a grey blazer over a white button-up shirt and a light blue and dark blue striped tie, a red armband indicating her position, a long skirt that matches her tie, black stockings and brown Mary Janes.

Just Anon, Ultimate Fanfiction Author

With a sparse and sporadic uploading schedule, Janon’s (or as he is known online, ”JustInThisForFun”) fans and followers commonly refer to the times he actually bothers to upload one of his fica as “Random-Time Rapture”, for you could never really predict when he will upload a fic, but anyone who reads his fanfiction would know that they are veritable masterpieces that can almost match the quality of the original works. Despite their differing temperaments, Myth and Janon love to relax together and introduce entirely new ways of relaxing to each other. Myth’s suggestions of relaxing on a particularly warm rock and lying face-up in the Con’s fountain are Janon’s two new favorite relaxation methods.

Outfit: Same outfit as the original, but with a bandolier of pens and other writing supplies.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Baseball Player

Considered a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to both Little and Major League Baseball, Sparkle catapulted her all-girl’s softball team (called The Shimmering Meteors) into stardom, with both her skills in the sport and her bombastic and dramatic personality, when on the diamond. Despite both being pioneers in women’s athletics, Sparkle and Myth‘s personalities and philosophies couldn’t be any more different, much to the confusion of the two girls. While the loud yet intelligent Sparkle plays mainly for the glory and thrill of competition, the calm yet ditzy Myth only swims for fun and for poetic inspiration. Sparkle and Myth just can’t comprehend each other’s athletic philosophies and motives.

Outfit: Hair in a bobcut, orange and pink sports jacket with her team’s logo on the back (and matching hat on her head) over a black and white baseball uniform, black cleats and a sparkly pink bandana around her neck.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Idol, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Fashionista

With their twin as their loyal costume designer in tow, Egg takes in to the stage with such cursed songs as, “Deodorant Push-Pop” and “Discord DM Detonator”, which have garnered quite the cult following online, and quickly became one of the most infamous idols in show business, thanks to their song’s subject matter, as well as being one of the few ever NB idols. Egg and Wet Sock regularly love to antagonise Myth, but thanks to her ditzy and unaware nature, any and all cursed comments uttered by the twins would either be unintentionally ignored, giggled at and agreed to, or even getting used in one of Myth’s poems much to the ire of the duo who live off of attention, positive or otherwise.

Egg’s Outfit: A garishly covered fedora, a t-shirt with a cursed meme on the front, green and red striped upside-down pants, pink crocs.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Hair over one of their eyes, pink eyeshadow, a black hoodie with white fluff, tight jeans, white and black converses.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Clairvoyant

Raised in a family that are all experts in supernatural powers, Curious stands out amongst the rest of their family with their clairvoyance powers being far above that of any other ancestor before them. This caused the fortune-telling booth that was passed down from Curious’s parents to them to skyrocket in popularity, and earn Curious a free spot in the Hope’s Peak Middle School roster as the “Jr. Ultimate Clairvoyant”. As a lover of the spiritual herself, Myth found herself fascinated by Curious’s powers, and Curious was all too happy to show off and teach the awestruck swimmer all about their powers. But than again, one could ask Curious to do anything, and they’d do it without hesitation.

Outfit: A green and off-white kimono with a red obi, brown prayer beads around their neck, white socks and brown geta sandals.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Soldier

Born and raised in a territory that was eventually wracked by the spoils of war, Nerd was drafted into his cruel nation’s army, thanks to a combination of his natural anger-induced strength and his natural talent in piloting, repairing and even inventing war weapons and machinery. All the time spent combating both potential and certain threats made him constantly hostile and quick to anger, even in his adult years, when the war was long over. Taking sympathy on her fellow chaperone, Myth decided to teach Nerd all sorts of relaxation techniques (that mostly just involve wading or lying in water), but to no avail, for Nerd has feelings for someone that he would much rather blast with his scouter (read: Myth).

Outfit: A black suit of armor with built-in-weapons and the scouter from his original design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Novelist

Under the pen name “R.C. Wells” (because he doesn’t want evil corporate executives to trace his location), Eldritch particularly specialises in dystopian novels that seek to expose the real world for the apocalyptic wasteland that it‘ll become, if the sheep (read: his audience) remain oblivious to all the horrors of the world they’re living in. Despite Eldritch’s blatant dislike and constant insulting of his audience, he only has the best of intentions for the world, and he thinks that the written word is the best way to combat against the propaganda in the media. Needless to say, Myth‘s relaxation tactics doesn’t exactly sit well with the constantly-worried novelist, so he avoids her like the plague.

Outfit: Reading glasses, a pencil behind his ear, a brown overcoat over a white dress shirt and a red tie, dark brown pants and matching shoes.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Gambler

Despite what her age and her childish personality would suggest, Dream is a veritable genius, when it comes to turning the odds to her favor, and winning boatloads of money at the gambling tables and betting on sports. Dream is infamously referred to, by her foes, as “Lady Luck’s Lovechild”, for her seemingly supernatural ability to make luck fall into her favor and guarantee her automatic wins, against otherwise dangerous odds. Just like with Curious, Myth found herself fascinated with Dream’s supernatural luck-changing powers and likes to sneak under the gambling tables and watch Dream gamble to uncover her secret, much to the embarrassment of the gambler.

Outfit: A grey and white fedora and pantsuit with card suit-themed buttons, a pink undershirt and heels.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Martial Artist

As current heiress to the Ryuseitai Martial Art’s Dojo, despite what her clumsiness and regular slip-ups suggest, Iris is regarded by martial artists everywhere as a prodigy in combat, who is able to take down foes that are at least a foot taller than her. Iris is also quite the excellent instructor, teaching her elementary-aged students all about mindfulness and positive thinking, which helps breed a brand new generation of strong martial artists. Because of their shared interest in mindfulness and odd philosophies, Iris gets along very well with Myth, who has a similar nature to her, and they have regular meditation sessions underneath a waterfall hidden in the forest behind the Kibo-Con.

Outfit: Hair tied into two Sailor-Moon-esque buns, a pink gi with a big purple star on the front and back, pink sandals, bandages all over her body, the hoodie from her original design tied around her waist.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Lucky Student

Being from one of the more wealthy families in her neighbourhood, Purple was signed up to Hope’s Peak’s annual Lucky Student raffle by her parents, and her supernatural luck meant that she was the lucky girl selected to attend. Because Purple was sheltered a lot, she is very timid and regularly speaks in old-fashioned and archaic terms. Because of a majority of these qualities, Myth and Purple get along very well, thanks to their shared interest in writing poetry, and Myth’s fascination with both Purple’s supernatural luck powers and her odd mode of speech, which sounds much like her own. Whenever they get together, hardly anyone can tell what the two girls are saying.

Outfit: The original outfit, but without the beret and a four-leaf-clover pinned to her sweater.

Watch as this oddball swimmer either befriends or baffles the people around her!

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PERSONALITY

Needless to say, Swimmer!Myth is one hard-to-read swimmer, for she has quite the odd thought process and an equally eccentric vocabulary, often speaking in odd poetic terms about water or marine life, and always searches for inspiration for her poetry. Swimmer!Myth also has a strong love for the supernatural, and can usually be seen learning about and getting in touch with her calm and spiritual side, if she’s not swimming or lying back-up in shallow bodies of water. Swimmer!Myth also gets easily distracted, and regularly wanders off, requiring a buddy to help ground her back to Earth (read: Detective!Wyre). Swimmer!Myth is also heavily empathetic, and, in spite of being an athlete, actually hates competition, which is why she dropped out of being an Olympic-level competitive swimmer years ago, and she really treasures her loved ones.

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APPEARANCE

Swimmmer!Myth has long and wavy brown hair with a French braid tieback, that she can put up in a ponytail while swimming, and blue swimming goggles on her head. Swimmer!Myth swims practically all the time, and her simplistic outfit reflects that perfectly. She wears a pink, blue, and purple wetsuit with blue frills on her sides, a pink translucent shawl and a seashell necklace around her neck, along with purple flip-flops on her feet.

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Now that I’m finished with this AU, I’d love to hear your opinions on the talentswap! In the meantime, look out for more content made by your’s truly!

-Fusion Anon

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agwitow · 4 years ago

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Hey there's two parts to this. My first question is How do you handle writer’s block? Writing can be an emotionally draining and stressful pursuit. Any tips for aspiring writers? Bonus Question How do you deal with emotional impact of a book (on yourself) as you are writing the story?

Hi Nonny, thanks for asking!

Okay, so... I have thoughts about this, and that might make this answer a bit, uh, longer... than you were expecting. Sorry in advance if you were wanting something quick.

Right, so. Writer’s Block. The boogeyman of writers everywhere. We hear people complain about it all the time, there are tons of guides to beating it (I’m even writing an entire book about getting yourself unstuck when it strikes), and everyone will likely give you a different answer as to why it happens and how to beat it.

To my way of thinking, this is because there are several different types of writer’s block. Too Many Ideas, or Not Enough Ideas, or Mental/Physical Exhaustion, or Written Into a Corner, or Bogged Down By Details, or Missed A Step

1. Too Many Ideas

While this might not sound like it’s all that bad of a thing (how can a creative type have too many ideas?), it can actually be really frustrating to deal with. Sometimes it means you keep getting ideas for new projects, and sometimes it means you keep getting new ideas to squeeze into your current project, and then sometimes it means you keep thinking up different ways to tell the current story.

Ugh. Well. Silver lining, your creative juices are certainly flowing. But that doesn’t help you get any writing done.

So if you’ve got this type of writer’s block, the best way I’ve found to deal with it is to have a notebook or word doc (or something along those lines) to jot down all the ideas as the come to you. You can even have a separate document for the ideas that pertain specifically to your current project. But the trick here is that as soon as you write the idea down, you push it aside and ignore it.

This can be hard to do at first. New ideas are soooo shiny that you can’t help but want to play with them. So it can help if you set aside a bit of time every week to go over all the ideas you’ve jotted down. Just make sure it’s a time that’s distinct from your writing time. Once you’ve gotten into the habit of this, then the flurry of ideas will no longer hinder your writing.

Alternatively, you can try channeling all that extra creativity into another art form. Especially something big and messy ;)

2. Not Enough Ideas

When people talk about experiencing writer’s block, they’re usually thinking it’s because you don’t know what to do next in your story (i.e., that you don’t have enough ideas), but this is actually pretty rare. Usually you’ve hit that block because of one of the other items on this list.

But, when it is because the well has run dry (so to speak), then it’s like trying to start a car with a dead battery. And just like that, you need to grab some jumper cables and give it a boost.

Do some yoga, go for a walk, listen to music, watch the clouds drift by, go stargazing, get your heart pumping, read poems that make you cry.

Basically, you need to shake things up. Drag yourself out of the rut you’ve found yourself in by doing things non-writing related. Not only is that good for your general health, it’ll recharge your creativity.

3. Mental/Physical Exhaustion

This type of writer’s block has probably become the most common over the last year or so. It is dang hard to be creative when you are mentally and/or physically drained. This can come about because of stress, lack of sleep (literal exhaustion), pain, injury, illness, or lack of self-care.

The most important thing with this type of writer’s block is to remember that it’s okay to take a break. Your mental and physical health is more important than completing a writing goal.

Give yourself the space to rest, and your creativity will return.

4. Written Into a Corner

Let me tell you, I’ve fallen into this one a lot. It sucks, and it can take awhile to figure out why it’s such a struggle to write. It usually happens when you are determined to have a specific event or sequence of events play out in your story, but your subconscious is recognizing that the scene/event/storyline doesn’t fit.

If you can’t seem to figure out how to connect your current scene to where you need to go next, then it’s very possible that you should remove the current scene entirely, or completely rewrite/change it.

You might think this only applies to pantsers (people who write without having an outline first), but it happens to plotters just as frequently. It’s not about a lack of planning, it’s about not realizing that the way you’re forcing the story doesn’t match with some other part of it. Maybe because of extra world building, or research, or character development, or lines of dialogue three chapters back, but whatever the reason, it’s made the current scene not-quite-fit.

This is okay. It’s not a failure of planning or creativity or you as a writer. It just happens sometimes.

Go back a scene or two and rethink how to get to the next plot point. Can you rework the troublesome scene? Do you need to remove it? Replace it with something else entirely? Whatever the solution, it’s okay. Your story will be better for it.

5. Bogged Down By Details

Along the same line as the previous one, this kind of writer’s block often leaves you unsure of how to progress to the next scene. The difference here is that this time it’s because you let the narrative point of the scene become lost in the minutiae. Maybe it’s a big info-dump, or maybe you let the characters get sidetracked by sightseeing, or maybe some random supporting character has been elevated to having a three-page monologue.

Whatever the cause, you’ve tried to cram too much information into the scene and now it feels weird to connect it to the next one.

Read over the scene and identify what information absolutely needs to be there for the story to progress. Is there any information that doesn’t need to be there, but is good set-up for something later? Keep those bits. Everything else you need to cut.

Yup. Sorry.

If you really like the information or dialogue or what-have-you, save it and see if you can work it in to other parts of the story in small bits. A little extra world building here and there can really make a story feel alive. It’s when there is too much in one spot that it becomes a problem.

6. Missed A Step

This one is almost the opposite of the last two points. Instead of having too much, or conflicting information, you’re missing something. For me, this is usually a rewrite/edit writer’s block phenomenon, but I’m sure there are lots of writers who experience it during their first draft too.

Basically, in your hurry to get from point A to C, you forgot all about B. Whoops!

If you’re writing (or editing) and the scene feels disconnected or like you’re having to do a lot of flashback-style inserts to get the reader up to speed, then you probably need to add something to a previous scene, or add a new scene altogether.

Usually this one (at least for me) doesn’t feel as much of a ‘block’ as the other types, but more like I can’t move forward until something is resolved. That something being the missing info/scene.

So yup... there are different types of Writer’s Block, and how you deal with it depends on what type it is. You might find that you experience one type more than the others, or that you experience a different type that I didn’t describe (in which case, please share). However you are facing off against writer’s block, just remember that it isn’t the end of the world. It’s just a sign that something needs to change.

As far as tips for aspiring writers go, I’ve answered a couple of different asks about that sort of thing before, so (to keep this from being monstrously long) check those out.

For your bonus question... I just let myself cry when I need to, or bounce around after the scene is written, and/or do some light sparring with my partner to work out the anger/stress afterwards.

Emotionally charged scenes are rough, but so rewarding. Keep on writing ‘em :)

Thanks again for asking!

xoxo

#writing #writeblr #ask me anything #Anonymous #writer's block #writing advice

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etraytin · 4 years ago

Text

Poem Rough Draft

College is in full swing in the bedroom and the first day of fifth grade is unfolding in the home office, so I’m in the living room, standing by for technical or moral support and trying to put minimal pressure on the wifi. I’ve been sorting through a bunch of random word processor documents from the last few months, and I found this poem I forgot I wrote. It’s super rough, probably needs a real ending, but I thought I’d put it up just to see whether there’s anything real here that people can respond to.

This is Only a Drill

The dorm has a new fire alarm system this year. Much better, they say, and so sensitive! It will save your life. It rings seven times in the first month Mostly at night, its sensitive eyes confused by a steamy shower, a bag of popcorn, a blunt. We pull the screen from the window by the microwave Anyone who burns the popcorn must throw it out the window Like a sad smoky balloon of shame Before the alarm has time to notice it. Retrieving it from the bushes down below is optional. We know the alarms are false and we hate them, But still we obey, wrapped in blankets and stumbling down the stairs blinking and shivering and watching the firemen Who also understand this farce, Sweeping the building to roust any disobedient seniors Without bothering to put their masks on.

There is a stillness in the air today It looks like rain, but the air is not heavy It is waiting. I can feel the subtle sickness in the green-tinged sky. Something is coming, and it might come here. Tornado watch, says the television, Third one this month, but this one is different. Or maybe I'm just tired. The baby has been awake for a hundred thousand hours. He is teething and I may die of it. But I grew up on the edge of the prairie And this is different. Find the pet carrier and fish the kitten from under the bed She clings like velcro to carpet, duvet, me. Use a cloth to scoop the budgies from their cage, Put the baby in his carseat. I am definitely overreacting. There are still people outside. When I was little we had a basement. I would hide under the workbench and listen to the radio Every tornado was an adventure, Now there is an apartment with a huge sliding glass door. And all these tiny dependent lives. A mournful siren in the distance, Loud, soft, loud. Something is coming. We settle in the first floor hallway, No windows, ancient carpeting, a flickering florescent bulb. Only one neighbor joins us. We smile at one another and are silent as the baby whines and the birds huddle on their perch, bright, miserable flowers. The tornado touches down fifteen miles away.

I've never lived through a hurricane before I have watched them on television Safe and smug in the midwest as the houses float away. Tornadoes are green skies and strange air and sirens. This hurricane starts on a bright sunny day. It is unimaginably far away, but it is so big. People here talk about hurricanes like sports teams, Keep an eye on your favorites, make predictions with your friends. Which ones will dissolve, or swing up the east coast, Which ones could come our way. It's all a guessing game, but you trust the computer for clues Instead of the taste in the air. “The first 72 is on you” says the pamphlet at the library. We buy toilet paper, canned foods, batteries. I find a big coloring book in case the television goes out. He is five and does not know from hurricanes But he is excited because everyone is acting so strangely. The Red Cross calls my cell phone, A shelter is opening. Come and help. I double check my supplies, pack a backpack, and go. Red vest, name badge, and I am safety Even if I do not feel safe.

Substitute teaching at the elementary school Special ed reading, eighty dollars for the day. The first graders are restless on a Friday afternoon Poking one another and laughing too loud. Read this word, this is 'house', can you say 'ou'? Say it again, now draw a picture. Yes, that's very good. Don't poke your friend, that's not nice. Now let's all- The boxy speaker on the ceiling hisses static. Twenty faces swivel up like sunflowers. A woman's voice, firm, loud. “LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN” Knowing it was coming does not make it better. “It's just a drill,” we whisper as the students flee their tiny chairs, “It's just practice, you are safe.” Nobody says anything else. The children press themselves into the closets, hidden between the backpacks Pressed against the open doors, arms around their knees. I don't know what to do, so I huddle as well, Just outside the closet with the children who do not fit. Twenty pairs of wide eyes, twenty silent mouths, Even if the quick rasp of breaths seems so loud. I look up and see the teacher, younger than me, Maybe a few years past college. She is standing by the door. She knows it is a drill, but her face is grim. Her aide stands with her, my mom's age. Five minutes ago we were reading about Clifford Now I watch them as they imagine What it would be like to die for their students. We all jump when someone outside shakes the door Testing the lock and our nerves. Nobody cries. It could be five minutes or an hour (It is seven minutes) “The lockdown drill is over, thank you all.” Everyone breathes again. The lights come back on, the window shades go up. Everything is the same, but no one is learning any more today.

#poem #poetry #creative writing #rough draft #tw lockdown #tw hurricane #tw tornado #tw fire drill

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cowboyjen68 · 5 years ago

Note

I've been thinking of writing a book of poems for lesbians, any advice?

I am awful at following through on books. I do have a “book of book” Ideas that I write in whenever a chapter idea strikes me. I also jot quick notes in it about poem ideas or blog thoughts that I can get back to later.

If I gave advice it would be to forgo the fancy notebook that sells for 20 buck at bookstores or ones that have been gifted you. We tend to hesitate writing in them and attempt stay neat and make no mistakes. Buy a .99 cent notebook and splurge on a nice pen instead. Start by writing in that book. Use it to record sentences, full ideas or partial thoughts. I write down words that rhyme or sound good together even if they have no context yet.

Commit to handwriting as sloppy as you want as long as you get the ideas out. Write in the margins, use the pages out of order. Just grab it and write. When you do write out a full poem use a sticky note to make it stand out. Then, as you type it in a word document, do the editing. Ask a friend to also look them over once you have the second typed and double checked draft. You are on your way.

Some things to write down: Words, even if random. Thoughts. Images that pop up. Emotions brought up by sights and sounds or smells. Dream images. Memories. Observations, even tiny ones that might seem benign. Themes for sets of poems or chapter. Don’t worry about organizing them in the book. You can use them as you go or you might never look back on them but the act of writing them down helps you get used to thinking about your work.

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dickwheelie · 5 years ago

Text

Day 29: Secret Admirer

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

Boy oh boy. I cannot believe I was able to post a fic for this prompt list, on time, every day for an entire month. For me, that’s huge. I tend to be a slow writer and I rarely finish the stuff I start. Not every fic was amazing, or very long, but by gosh, I sure did finish them, and I had so much fun doing it! Huge thanks to @mielpetite for making this list and reblogging all the entries throughout the month, they’ve been amazing. Thank you also to all the lovely folks who commented/reblogged/liked my fics, you gave me the motivation to sit down every day and write something, even when I wasn’t feeling it. Much love to all y’all.

If you go to the #ineffablevalentines tag on tumblr, you’ll see the other entries, and if you go here on my blog you’ll see all of mine. Okay, enough chat, please enjoy my final fic of the month, wherein to no one’s surprise, there is more letter writing.

__________

To the proprietor of A.Z. Fell & Co Booksellers, Downtown Soho, in case there’s another one knocking about somewhere—

I saw you in the shop the other day and couldn’t help but stare. You were gently ushering someone out the door without a single book in their hands, and I couldn’t help but find your tenacity admirable. I myself was careful not to remove any item from the store when I left, but I’m afraid I may have left one behind. I was wondering if you might have seen it, so I can come back to fetch it. You see, it’s terribly important to me. It’s my heart.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

Aziraphale chuckled through an unseemly blush as he refolded the letter and placed it on the top of the stack that had been slowly growing on his desk for the past month. Every day of that cold, miserable February, a letter had arrived at his doorstep, with no return address and no name of sender. They were—and there was no beating around the bush about it, really—love letters, very obviously meant for him, from an anonymous so-called secret admirer.

At first, Aziraphale had been rather confused, but had kept the letters anyway, intending to show them to Crowley and have a good laugh. However, as each day passed and each new letter arrived, Aziraphale found himself quite charmed by this secretive writer. Clearly, they were a regular customer of some kind to know Aziraphale so well. They made all the right jokes, said all the right things, made references to all the right literary figures; either they had discerned Aziraphale’s tastes with perfect accuracy, or they had much in common with him.

Some of the letters were extremely lengthy; others, like today’s, were only a short paragraph or two, recounting the admirer’s feelings for him. Some were maudlin and prose-laden; some were humorous and sweet; others still were almost salacious in tone, never saying anything too outlandish but bordering on the cusp of it, hinting at things and implying things that made Aziraphale blush absolutely scarlet. All of them were quite flattering, and left Aziraphale’s mood brighter for the rest of the day.

Aziraphale had been charmed by humans before, and even been romantically pursued by some of them, but never before had one so captivated him with the written word. (This, of course, did not include works of literature. That was a very different kind of captivation that involved less blushing.) He’d never had a secret admirer before. It was all very thrilling and romantic.

Not being able to write back was a bit frustrating, but Aziraphale supposed it was for the best. Though he was quite flattered, and had reread some of the letters more times than he’d like to admit, at the end of the day, his admirer was only a human who only knew him as a bookseller.

Besides, Aziraphale was already taken. Speaking of which, he ought to get himself ready to meet Crowley for dinner; their reservation was at eight.

I ought to tell him about the letters, he thought as he went about selecting a bowtie. Crowley ought to know, after all, that he had some competition. Aziraphale laughed aloud at the thought. After dinner, he decided, he’d bring Crowley back to the shop and show him the pile of letters.

And so he did. Aziraphale poured them both a glass of wine and brought Crowley into his study, presenting the pile of papers as though it were an ice sculpture.

“Terribly sorry I didn’t mention these to you earlier,” said Aziraphale cheerily. “I suppose I didn’t want you getting jealous that I had a secret admirer.”

“Jealous? Me?” said Crowley wryly. “Never.”

“Well?” said Aziraphale, when Crowley didn’t make a move towards the desk. “Go ahead, read some of them. You have my full permission.”

“Hmm. I dunno,” said Crowley, making himself comfortable on one of the armchairs on the opposite side of the room. “Seems like your private affair, to me.”

“Nonsense! Here, I’ll read one to you.” Aziraphale selected one at random from the middle of the pile, unfolded it and cleared his throat. “Oh, this is rather a good one.

“My dear bookseller—

“I’ve read every Wilde I can get my hands on, but apparently even your shop doesn’t hold the book which may contain a description vivid enough to capture you. In my experience, none do; not Whitman, not Keats, not Dickenson. The most complimentary of love poems do not contain a subject more appealing to me than you are. I’m afraid there may not be words in the English language or any other to describe your radiance. Compared to all the other authors and poets, who am I to attempt such a feat?

“I must try anyway. You, of all the beings of the Earth and Heaven above and Hell below, deserve to know your own wonder. Compared to you, my perspective is lowly, to be sure. Still, was it not Wilde who once said that we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars?

“Endlessly Yours,

“Your Secret Admirer.”

Aziraphale had to pause to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. That one had been particularly moving when he’d first read it. “Now, wasn’t that just lovely?” he said after a moment. “They know my tastes so well.”

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley to see his reaction, but to his surprise, Crowley was smiling. A small, rather sweet smile, not at all jealous or mischievous. “Yeah,” Crowley said, “it was alright.” He put out his hand. “Can I have a look?”

Aziraphale handed him the letter and Crowley perused it, his expression much more pensive than Azirapahle would have expected. After a minute or two, Crowley said, “Yeah, not too bad, really. Not much I’d change, on this one. Just that the references to Heaven and Hell were probably a little too on the nose. And I’m pretty sure I used ‘complimentary’ incorrectly there.”

“Oh, really?” said Aziraphale, taking the letter as Crowley passed it back to him. He gave it another quick once-over. “No, I think ‘complimentary’ with an ‘i’ is correct. If it was an ‘e’ then it would be wrong, as in ‘complementary’—wait a moment.”

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley so quickly he could have given himself whiplash. “You said I. ‘I used it incorrectly.’ Crowley. Did you—”

Crowley grinned, and crossed the room to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s brow. “Happy Valentine’s, Angel,” he said. “Well, happy February. The fourteenth went by and I had more I wanted to say, so I just sort of kept going.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. Who else, after all, could know Aziraphale so well? A human, with limited time on the planet, observing Aziraphale from afar, could never reach such an intimate understanding of him, and what he loved.

“Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale. He glanced over at the pile. He was already planning a late night of reading through them all again, this time with the proper demon in mind. “Do I even have to say it?”

Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets and bobbed his head from side to side in a pantomime of thinking. “Well, considering it look me bloody ages to draft these all up, and write them by hand, and train the mice to deliver them, and stop myself from bragging about them to you every day for the last month—”

Aziraphale interrupted him with a kiss. “All right then,” he said, laughing. “Thank you, secret admirer.”

Crowley beamed. “Ah, it was no big deal, Angel.”

***

On February first of the following year, Crowley woke up to find an envelope sitting on his bedroom windowsill, outside his flat. It was addressed to “The handsome gentleman on the fifth floor,” and there was no return address. Inside was a letter, written on very old parchment and with very expensive ink, which read:

My dear,

Forgive me for my boldness, but I happened to see you in the Ritz the other day (you were with a rather good-looking gentleman in white, a very lucky man, if he had the privilege of being your dining companion), and you seemed to me to be the most dashing person in the room. Nay, in all of London. I found myself thinking about you for the rest of the evening, and I just had to draft up this letter to tell you exactly how lovely you looked that night. Though you wore dark glasses, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of your eyes behind them, and their beautiful golden color, and I found myself nearly speechless every time.

In all of creation, I have never found a being so wonderful to gaze upon. I imagine that if I were to, hypothetically, take the place of your ever-so-fortunate dining companion, and have a conversation and a drink with you, I would also never find someone so fascinating, so caring, so clever as you. I imagine if I were lucky enough to know you so well, your wit would be as dazzling as your eyes.

With the Greatest Affection,

Your Secret Admirer

Scrawled at the bottom of the page, in a much hastier hand, was a postscript. Crowley read it, cackled uproariously (which helped to hide his blushing), and went immediately to phone Aziraphale, intending to explain to him the point of having a secret admirer.

P.S.: Please do let me know if you received this! The doves are not very good with street directions, unfortunately. I am working on it with them. Much love! —A

Crowley also intended to tell him that he bloody well loved him, too.

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #gwyneth writes

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yayee-prsp · 5 years ago

Text

I was talking with a friend about this idea I have been having for a while, so i ended writing and drawing about them.

(It is a rough draft and i have no beta so all the mistakes are mine ,,)

The background is blurred from this

That time when Grantaire writes on cups.

Courfeyrac and Jehan have a café.

It is a small thing. Two stories building in a small space, cosy and warm, filled with different flowers every day at the request of Jehan himself. Various paintings and dried flowers are put up almost everywhere. Everything is environment-friendly, Jehan has made sure of it. No straws unless requested, uses paper cups and only a few plastic ones, with recycle bin near. Located in a quieter part of town, only a few people know of this place, but those who discover it will surely come around again for more.

The atmosphere is always warm, no matter how cold the weather is. It might be from the smell of coffee and tea lingering around and in the air at all time when you enter, or because of how welcoming Courfeyrac and Jehan are - or maybe both. Courfeyrac will always greet you with a smile and ask you about your day, while Jehan will always leave a small poem for you on your cup - a cheery little thing for your day.

One of the patrons is, of course, the friends of the owners'. A group of students who called themselves 'Les Amis de L'ABC', or the friends of the abase. They are a group of students who wish to change the world, and the small café is one of their bases.

At first, the idea of writing on cups was only reserved for customers, in which Jehan would write their names in beautiful cursives and end with a few couplets or tercets. However, some customers wanted to request something to write for their friends, namely Eliza, a cheerful sweet girl who stumbles into their café one day and wish to add a few things on the cup for her boyfriend.

Enter Grantaire, who sees this and thinks of an idea.

Grantaire, a man who believes in nothing but still a romantic at heart, wishes to spread his positiveness into the public world by requesting quotes for Jehan to write on the cups. Which, well, mostly consists of cheesy pick-up lines which never fail to at least put a small smile and a headshake from the poor readers' face.

The first customer who gets the cup mumbles to herself: “You look cold. Would you like to use me as your blanket?” A scoff leaves her throat, and she leaves with a small smile.

After that, the victims range from Jehan himself, to Courfeyrac, and some poor random customers - sometimes the friends. He wrote for Bahorel once: ‘You must be a broom, ‘cuz you just swept me off my feet.’ To which Bahorel laughed in an obnoxious volume, and jumped up to literally pick Grantaire up from where he was working on his art. And another time to Joly: ‘Can you help me, Doc? ‘Cuz I just broke my leg falling for you :(’ Which was fun, considering the face Joly made.

The point is, many people had to read his lines, except one. It has, and will never, been Enjolras, Grantaire has made sure of that.

Courfeyrac, however, will not have any of that. So he takes it upon himself to deliberately pick a certain cup for the leader of their little group.

"Do you have a sunburn, or... are you always this," Enjolras reads, "hot?"

Courfeyrac just grins and says nothing, while Jehan laughs and shakes his head.

"An admirer requested it," he replies, “Just for you!”

A small smile plays on Enjolras' face though, so Courfeyrac counts it as a win.

———

Grantaire, however, freaks out.

"Why would you give him that, you traitor!" He whines one day, a cup of hot latté held between his hands, and his face buried into the cold table top. Jehan laughs softly and pats him on the back, while Courfeyrac, too, is laughing. Hard. Apparently Grantaire sulking and embarrassment is kind of funny to him.

"It's alright, R," Jehan tells him, patting him a few times on his head, "Enjolras seems to like it. Plus, he doesn't know who wrote or requested that anyway."

Grantaire sniffles, but he looks up at the poet and considers it. Jehan seems genuine, and Courfeyrac seems to agree.

"Can I write it this time?" Grantaire asks and receives a brilliant smile of Jehan's in return.

——

"Roses are red, my face is too," Enjolras reads, "that only happens when I'm around you?" He raises his brow after finishes. Jehan, a sweetheart that he is, remains silent and replies with only a smile.

"This is not your handwriting," the leader observes his cup of black coffee, holding the weight firmly in his hand while careful not to spill it.

"From your admirer," the poet answers.

Enjolras frowns, but shrugs and turns away. Not fast enough that Jehan misses his smile and a small shake of his head.

If only Grantaire could see.

——

For the next two weeks, Enjolras has a collection of take-out cups with pick up lines on them. Some have 2 or 3 on them since he decides to reuse some of the cups. (He also notes that when he reuses the cups, Jehan would be the one who writes the lines. So whoever it is is not in the café when he is, or they do not wish to be found.) He hates to admit it, but those lines do make his days.

He wonders who comes up with all these cheesy lines, and can't help but think about it. When it comes to, he has narrowed it down to only a few people who could possibly do this. And he thinks he is pretty sure who it is, but he needs more proof.

One day he decides to pay back the kindness and walks up to Courfeyrac. He asks the man for a marker and a cup, and makes quick scribbles of words on it, before returning it to Courfeyrac.

"For my 'secret admirer'," he instructs, earning a raise of eyebrows from the cheery man behind the counter.

Then he waits a while, sitting in the café and pretends to do some work while trying to see if Courfeyrac will slip in the cup for someone. Apparently, the man is loyal because all the day he has been sitting, the cup is not given to anyone. So Enjolras just resigns and packs his stuff. He'll find out, one way or another.

As soon as Enjolras walks out, Courfeyrac springs himself into action. The sound of the coffee machine echoes out all over the room, emitting a pleasant smell of coffee everyone loves.

A few moments later, a cup of iced latté with extra whipped-cream is placed in front of Grantaire, startling him out of his trance. He jumps and glares at Courfeyrac who simply grins at him like nothing has happened.

Grantaire puts his sketchbook and art supplies down on an empty chair beside him. His hands, which are half-covered by his green knitted sweater reach out to grasp the cold drink, all the while saying, "I thought I would never get my drink in this life."

Courfeyrac just keeps smiling, then points to him his cup. Grantaire frowns and looks down before his eyes go wide.

"Apparently you also have an admirer," the barista states happily, before making his way out and throwing a wink over his shoulder, leaving Grantaire to his shock.

He would recognise that handwriting anywhere, and that makes it even worse. Because Enjolras, of all people, wrote, in his quick but neat handwriting, "I would say God bless you, but it seems he already did."

That bastard. Grantaire has lost the ability to focus on his work after that.

——

It goes like that for another two weeks, with Grantaire writing pick-up lines for several people every day, and one reserved coffee cup or a line for Enjolras, with additional doodle of small things on all the cup: flowers, cats, dogs, or whatever it is that inspires Grantaire. Jehan seems to like his addition though, and so Grantaire has become one of the professional coffee cup artists of the café after two or three days or so.

Customers seem to appreciate it since Jehan notices they would smile wider when they receive their cups. However, their little game has to stop when the reputation of their heart-warming café has spread for some reason, and there are more customers than ever. Courfeyrac loves it, and Jehan is more than happy, but it exhausts them every day. So, Grantaire takes the matter in his own hands and volunteers to be a barista.

"And don't you pay me with cash, I just want some free coffee every day and that's that. No argument," he says, dismissing any further complaints from the couple.

Now Grantaire has full-control of everything behind the counter. He spends some times learning how to make basic coffee and how to do it quick. But Courfeyrac prefers to let him station at the cashier, and Grantaire is more than happy to oblige. He loves talking to new people, and being at the cashier gives him the opportunity to write on the cups as much as he wishes. Jehan still comes in and writes beautiful poems at times though. He loves it after all, but making coffee at all time makes it hard for him. So, unfortunately, he can only do that when the customers are not so overwhelming. That gives Grantaire no time to write for Enjolras.

Grantaire wonders if Enjolras notices or misses the small exchange of random cheesy lines. But considering Enjolras, it would be indifferent to him, Grantaire thinks with a twinge of disappointment. Still, he is happy doing this - working and meeting people.

A month and a half after the first time Grantaire asked to write, or a few weeks after getting behind the counter, however, Courfeyrac hands him a latte cup with another line written on it, catching him by surprise.

"Apollo sent for you," he states. And on it, written in Enjolras' usual handwriting: 'No wonder the sky is grey today, all its blue is in your eyes.'

And that just leaves him with a racing heart and a face that can be used as a stove to fry some eggs. And the temperature of the countertop is just so perfect to cool his fave temperature down because damn this is so unexpected. It's been too long since their last exchange and Enjolras has to attack him with this-

He is so caught up trying to calm his racing heart and burning face down that he doesn't question why Enjolras knows his admirer's eyes are blue - or to see a smile of a certain someone just through the window outside the shop.

After a while, Grantaire moves to work at the coffee machine since he has mastered it. Jehan and Courfeyrac are more than delighted to know that he can also make latte art! It is amazing, and everyone loves it.

Grantaire practically works at their little café full-time by now, and Courfeyrac would not let him work for free any longer, so he guesses he's an official employee of this café. It's not that bad after all.

(He tried to refuse for a while but it didn't work anymore. Jehan can be terrifying when he chooses to.)

Even then, Grantaire still tries his best to write some messages on the cups, but since the new shop policy which tries to reduce even more plastic, he has to adapt. Hence, he chooses to write on the napkin or the receipt instead. Jehan seems to adore this idea also.

Enjolras comes to the counter one day, tapping absent-mindedly on the countertop. Grantaire, who takes on cashier duty, raises his eyebrow, holding up Enjolras' stainless tumbler.

"Human to the God of sun, Apollo?" Grantaire calls and smiles with delight when Enjolras snaps his head to frown at him. "Iced coffee like usual?"

Enjolras blinks at him then slowly nods his head. The artist smiles back, before turning away to the coffee machines behind him. Jehan and Courfeyrac are on a break since there are only a few customers and Grantaire declares they deserve a break. So it's a one-man job that Grantaire is more than happy to do.

The machine whirs into action, filling the cosy shop with a constant sound. The smell of coffee slowly swirls all over the shop once again. Grantaire smiles, watching as the liquid pours down and into Enjolras' tumbler.

"Well, there we go, Enj. We don't have straws to preserve the environment - you know the drill. And here's no poem from Prouvaire because he's not here. And since you've paid, you're free to go!" He rambles on with a big smile, handing Enjolras his stainless bottle. He frowns, however. When Enjolras takes it but doesn't move away, "Is there anything I can help you?"

Enjolras bites his lips, looking down at the countertop where he is still drumming his fingers. And - is that blush on the leader's face?

"Since you don't use as much cups anymore," Enjolras begins, looks up to meet Grantaire's eyes. "Would you now say those cheesy pick-up lines to me in person now?"

#enjoltaire #exr #enjolras #grantaire #fic #i guess #and now the rants:#I did want to edit this first but I've become unmotivated #i apologize for any mistake #i'm sorry if this has been done before but I need this-#if anyone wants to write more then please do #i need something

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buns-with-a-book · 5 years ago

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My Sweet and Somber Dream

One of the first Vergil/Cassandra fics I’ve done. One of Cassandra’s first drafts was that she was a tea shop owner who had an apartment on the second floor of the building. I much like the Cassandra I have here and redid parts of the fic to reflect her new characterization.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC/Vergil Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary: Vergil finds some attempts at poetry.

Vergil sat quietly in the bedroom he shared with Cassandra at Devil May Cry, the clouds outside completely obscuring the sun. It was a dull dreary day, with the rest of the crew out and about. As he had no errands of his own to run, and he already finished his physical exercises, he was relaxing on the bed with a book from their shared bookshelf. He flipped through the pages of the book, a book on herbs and their usage. It was a well read tome, if the handwritten notes sticky-noted over paragraphs were any indication of such. She had mentioned that, back at home, she had been taught about herbs and their usages as ‘a passing interest’. He wondered how she had lived, given that the book was well loved. She certainly had enough time on her hands to make such a book and keep it in the state he found it in. As he lazily read through the book, a scrap of paper fell out of the pages. He glanced down, letting out a hum of interest as he took the paper into his hands.

It was a poem, or at least part of one.

Even in the spring, he still stands A lingering winter frost Beloved he is, in spite of it The cold, mine to love The sins, mine to bear For he is my sweet and somber dream

It was obviously in her handwriting, he could recognize it for it’s uniqueness compared to the nigh-unreadable scrawl that was his brother’s handwriting. The torn off edges made him tilt his head, just a little, wondering where the rest of it was. He looked to the back of the paper, seeing a scribbled note on the back.

1/4

‘A scavenger hunt, is it?’ He thought, closing the book. Now his curiosity was piqued, it would not do well to leave a poem unfinished. Getting up, he walked over to the bookshelf. It only made sense to have the rest of the poem’s parts be hidden within her books. Sliding his previous book back into place, his hands began to wander.

The second part of the poem he found easily enough, hidden amongst the pages of a photo album of a far-away city named Eternis Brillia. She had mentioned that it was her hometown, the pictures of a time long before she came to Red Grave City. The piece of paper was nestled next to a rather large picture of her standing in the city cathedral while multi-colored shafts of light fell upon her. She looked so small against the grandeur of the ancient cathedral. With a quick shake of his head, he focused his attention back on the scrap of paper.

How does the chill hold In the warmth of the summer sun? It is in the nights alone, With naught but stars and abyss. But he is never alone, My sweet and somber dream.

That explained the reason they were split into four parts. She was trying to put one stanza for the seasons, not an uncommon way to write poetry. He closed the photo album with great care and slid it back into its place. The repeated use of ‘sweet and somber dream’ was not lost to him. His tale was something one could describe as somber but the sweet part...for a brief moment he was lost in that word. He would never describe himself as ‘sweet’, much less his brother and his son.

But, as he flipped through book after book, his mind wandered back to her. The faith she had in him, the quiet moments they just sat together and read, the moments as they walked together that she held his hand, perhaps those moments was the sweet she had written in the poem. His lips quirked at the thought before he opened another book. What was a generic poetry book had a single blank page, an autumn leaf pressed into its pages. Atop that leaf was the third scrap of paper, the third part of her poem.

Some would say fall is his With dying leaves and spider web veils But what of the joys of leaf fall And midnight masquerades? My sweet and somber dream is not that The fall is nothing like him.

Autumn, that was the season. Dying leaves and midnight masquerades clued him in on that one. He remembered those chilly nights long ago, back when he and Dante were merely children. Those long-ago days were still tinged with bitterness, bitter at all the time he lost, bitter for missing Nero for so long, bitter entirely at himself for what he did. He shook his head again, closing the book. He knew Cassandra hated it when he dwelled on the past, for everything he did. She always urged him to move onward, to always look to the rising sun and to each new day.

The last piece of the poem was in a place he did not expect: his own book, hidden in the front cover. While he was certain that he had told her not to touch his book, except in emergencies, perhaps she believed this small transgression was worth it. He took out the paper to glance at its contents.

Winter, truly, is his. With cruel nights and blizzard snow But the dark has its own sweet delights Of the warm hearth and a loved one’s touch So let the cold come, it is mine after all In my sweet and somber dream

“Vergil! Where are you?” Came Cassandra’s voice. He glanced up, watching her enter the bedroom. “Are you hungry? I’m gonna make lun-” As she entered the room, she blinked as she noticed what was in his hand. “Oh.”

“You seem to have led me on a brief hunt.”

“So, you found my first attempts at poetry. It’s not much, no William Blake, but, you know, I tried.” Vergil looked to the scraps of paper in his hand.

“And you split them apart because…?”

“To make you think when me and the gang are off demon-hunting. You can train the body all you want but the mind’s a bit...harder to train.”

“How considerate.” He murmured, placing the scraps in his book. She blushed as she watched him snap the book shut.

“So, does that mean I should put more poetry in random books to keep you moving?”

“I would like to read more of your attempts at poetry, so yes.” Cassandra smiled softly at his words.

“As you wish.”

#devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry vergil #fluff #poetry fic

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thespeedyreader · 6 years ago

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The Oxbridge application process

Hey, stxdywarrior here! I’ve recently just applied to Cambridge University to study English, and I wanted to share my tips and experiences to help you if you’re interested in applying. First of all, if you’re applying to Oxford or Cambridge, that’s great! They’re both amazing universities, and applying is going to be challenging but so rewarding. I have no doubt that you’ll excel, whatever you want to do.

Please share this and add to it if you wish to!

A quick note: While this masterpost is general, I have to stress that lots of these tips may only apply to humanities subjects. I don’t have much to say about the sciences, I’m afraid. If you are applying for a science, however, I still hope you can find some great content in here for you.

UCAS application

Okay, first thing’s first: the application itself. Applying to Oxbridge is different because you have to have your UCAS form sent by October 15th (while everyone else has the luxury of waiting until January), and while that sounds stressful, it’s a great feeling to get it done early, trust me. And this means having applied to ALL your chosen universities, not just Oxford or Cambridge.

Another thing that’s different about Oxbridge is that they’re collegiate universities, so you’ll have to choose a college. Or, you can choose to make an open application, meaning you’ll be assigned a college later by the university. Don’t stress too much about this stage - people choose certain colleges for all sorts of reasons, and they’re all good anyway. I chose my college because it was small and had good student wellbeing services.

Because the deadline is so early, I would recommend you start thinking about your personal statement by Summer, so that when you get back in September, you can hit the ground running. Here are a few tips I have for your personal statement:

Get all the help you can. And by this I mean: ask everyone you know who might be helpful to have a look over it. This means teachers, family members, classmates, and anyone you know who’s recently been through the same process you are going through.

That being said, make sure all of the opinions don’t leave you at see. I found it really hard when one person was telling me one thing and another was telling me the opposite, but I learned to balance my OWN judgements with other peoples’.

Don’t worry about the character count until your last drafts. Make sure you nail the content first.

It doesn’t matter how many drafts you have to get through, as long as you save all the drafts. I think I got through like 14 drafts?

Don’t JUST write it for Oxbridge. What I mean is, the other universities on your list matter too. So even though Oxbridge don’t care much about your extracurriculars, that doesn’t mean you should ignore them.

It isn’t about quantity, it’s about quality. Even if you’ve only done a few things, if you write about them well, then they’re still just as impressive.

A tip not everyone hears is that the universities want to hear about your personal response to things. Don’t just say you read a book; say how it made you feel, and why you were interested in it. Use phrases like ‘I was fascinated by’ and ‘this intrigued me’. I’m serious.

Remember that your personal statement is literally the hardest piece of writing you have to do. It’s easy to feel daunted by it, but there are plenty of resources out there to help.

Supplementary Application Questionnaire (Cambridge only)

If you’ve applied to Cambridge, you’ll soon get ask to do the SAQ. This isn’t a big deal, but it’s quite a long form to fill out, so it’s best to do it carefully and start early. You’ll be asked things like what modules you’ve studied in your a levels, and you have to include a profile photo of yourself. At the end, you can also write an additional personal statement. This is optional, but just for reference, my one included some things I’d done that I hadn’t included on my personal statement, and I related them to some of the specific modules on the Cambridge course.

Entrance exams

Depending on which subject you’re applying for, you may be asked to sit an exam. This will be typically registered through your school or college, and it’s important to make sure you sign up before the deadline (which will be set by your school). The exams happen around late October.

As I was applying for English, I took the ELAT (English Literature Admissions Test). In the ELAT I was given six texts (poems or novel excerpts), all linked by a theme, and I had to pick two to ‘compare and contrast’. So there was no set structure, and I couldn’t strictly revise for it. In terms of preparation, you can find past papers, and it also helps to do language analysis of some unseen poetry just so you’re used to it. You will NEVER be tested on things you don’t know; they’re more looking for the way you form and present an argument.

Essay submission

Depending on which subject you’re applying for (mainly humanities), you may be asked by email to submit essays to your chosen college. I was asked to send in two essays that I’d done in a school setting (I got to choose, whew), and I needed to print four copies of each (no idea why) and get my teachers to sign it to prove it was my work. The essays can’t be edited.

One thing to note is that, while Oxford usually let you email them, Cambridge are still in the Dark Ages and will only receive them by post. So if you’re applying to Cambridge and are a confused millennial like me, who literally never uses post, I’d get the essays in early.

Another thing is that my college constantly emailed me reminders about the essay deadline, so unless you live under a rock you can’t miss it.

The interview

As the final stage of the application process, you will (hopefully!) be invited to interview. They’ll let you know by email in late November. Cambridge typically invite about 80% of applicants, whereas Oxford invite less, which I think is about 50%. So if you get an interview, congratulations! And don’t panic. People say it’s the biggest factor in the process, when in reality the universities treat each part of your application equally.

Interviews are done differently by each university. In Oxford, you’ll be asked to stay at your college for a few days, because not only do your college interview you, but your application is sent around other colleges, so you could be invited to interview at another college at any time. (Sorry I can’t shed more light on this, as I didn’t apply to Ox.) In Cambridge, you only get interviewed by one college, and you have the option of staying overnight or just going for the day.

How to prepare:

While you don’t need to go overboard with this one, do read a lot around your subject in the few weeks beforehand, so that if they ask, “so, what have you been reading lately?”, you’ve got a lot to say.

If you have the opportunity to do a practise interview, take it. My school organised one for me, but even if your school doesn’t, find someone - like a teacher - who can do it for you. Even if it’s them just grilling you on your personal statement, at least you’ll be used to articulating your arguments in an interview setting.

If you sent in essays, make sure you read over those essays beforehand. They asked me about one of mine.

Map out some generic questions that they might ask you. For English, for example, I researched questions like, “is it better to read a play or see it in production?” and “what’s the difference between literacy and literature?” and even “what is literature?”

You’ll be notified by email the professors who will be interviewing you. I’d recommend looking them up (they’ll be on your college website) and finding out what they specialise in.

Read over your personal statement as many times as you have to. They’re very likely to ask you about something on there.

This sounds cliche, but PLEASE look after yourself before the interview. It always takes place right at the end of a really busy term, so watch out for colds and things (I’m telling you this because I was recovering from a chest infection when I interviewed, and had only just got my voice back RIP)

The interview itself

If you’re doing a humanities subject, you might be given a source or written extract to look at before one of the interviews, and then they’ll discuss it with you. I’d bring lots of highlighters for you to annotate. (I was expected to just be given a poem for English, but I actually got a poem AND part of a critical essay. Go figure.)

No one cares what you’re wearing. I mean, wear sensible stuff, but there’s no need to try to hard.

This is a bit random, but my teacher told me to make a list of all the things I love about my second choice university the night before, to remind myself that Oxbridge isn’t everything. Believe it or not, it worked.

You have to expect to be put on the spot, and this means on-your-feet thinking. I heard they can smell a rehearsed answer from a mile away.

When you’re waiting to interview, you’ll probably meet loads of other applicant like you. It’s up to you whether you chat with them or not - I know some people like to keep themselves to themselves to keep their focus, while I personally loved getting to know people, as chatting helped me stay calm. Either way, everyone’s in the same boat, so don’t worry.

If you’re like me, and easily get distracted by social media, I’d recommend staying off it for the whole day if you can. I did this, and it helped me protect my mental space and keep out negative thoughts.

Some of your interviewers might come across as a bit scary. They might also disagree with everything you say, which can be off-putting. Try not to worry too much if this happens - stand your ground.

When you make an argument, be prepared to justify it, but also, if you want to change your mind, do it. The interviewers are looking for a teachable mind, not someone who’s right all the time and knows everything, so show you have an open mind.

Once the interview’s over, all you have to do is get some well-deserved rest and wait! Try not to overthink how it went, because in reality you have no idea. Some people think they did awfully, but end up getting an offer, so.

The decision

Okay, here’s the truth: Oxbridge is not the be-all and end-all. It just isn’t. Your worth and intelligence cannot be defined by an institution.

For when you’re waiting for a decision: think of Oxbridge as a bonus. This is what I did: I had another university as my ‘first choice’, so that Cambridge was just an extra.

If you don’t get an offer: You will be so happy at wherever you decide to go instead. Think of it as Oxford or Cambridge’s loss, not yours - hundreds of applicants who are very much smart enough to get a place don’t, and that isn’t because they aren’t good enough.

While it’s okay to feel disappointed, it’s best to focus on the amazing learning experience that applying has been. You’ve shown yourself that you can handle all that while still maintaining your priorities and sense of self. So you should STILL be proud.

If you do get an offer: Congratulations! Party time. Except it’s not time to party just yet, because you’ve still got to get the a level grades to secure your spot.

I hope this helped! Don’t hesitate to ask me anything else you want to know.

Just tagging a few people who have been through the same process/have asked about it: @rebeccaravenclaw @littlebitofstudy @lesbianlondongrammar @sectumsempracurse

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rogermeddowstayl0r · 6 years ago

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rumours | j.d.

a/n: this is a really quick one parter since i feel bad about not writing for the past few days. i swear i have so many drafts that are half finished. they will be up soon. sorry if this seems rushed or there’s mistakes. anyways, enjoy john being cute. also first john fic awwwwe.

words: 1.2k

warnings: none just fluff

you were alone in your small dorm room, studying of course. as much as you loved your course, all the notes and reading were catching up to you. the uni life was one which you thoroughly enjoyed, partying and drinking with your friends almost every night at local bars and pubs around the city of london, until you inevitably got kicked out.

but recently with upcoming exams you’d had to begin saying no to going out more, which led to very boring nights similar to this.

quietly, for some background noise, an old beatles album was playing on your vinyl. the longer you stared at your neatly written notes on romantic poetry, the more you regretted your decision to spend your night in with john keats and percy shelley rather than getting drunk in some random pub. you groaned in frustration.

then a soft knock at your door snapped you out of your frustration. you walked across the room to get the door, wondering who would be showing up at your dorm at 10:15pm on a saturday night. opening the door you were greeted with the friendly face of your friend, john. he smiled brightly at you.

“hey, y/n.” he beamed, swaying slightly as he stood at your door.

you smiled back. “hey john! what’s up?”

“can i ‘ome in?” his words were slurred and you quickly realised he was pretty drunk especially from he way he lazily smiled.

you gestured for him to enter your small room and he stumbled in, nearly falling over you quickly caught him.

“hey, hey. easy there mate.” you laughed slightly, gently helping him sit on the bed.

you and john hadn’t known each other long, you met him a few times in the music rooms of your university. he played bass guitar and you played guitar. naturally you both began talking and had grown quite close as friends and he soon became a part of your small group of friends. but there were many rumours amongst your friends that he may have a small crush on you but you had always brushed off their comments as put it down to john’s shyness and his kindness.

but here he was, in your dorm at nearly 10:30 at night, which was strictly forbidden and to top it all off, he was very intoxicated.

“john?” you asked quietly, breaking the short silence that had fallen upon you both. he hummed lightly in response. he was sitting on the bed, swaying side to side and when you sat down next to him, he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled into your hair. he’s probably just dizzy, you tried to reason with yourself.

“you smell like strawberries.” he giggled like a child.

you laughed lightly. “john who were you out with?” you asked wondering how he ended up so drunk and alone.

“the boys.” he mumbled against your ear. “‘anted to see you though. wanted to talk t’you.”

you felt your heart flutter and your cheeks burn slightly. you put your arms around him hugging him into you. you ran your hand through his long hair.

“can i lie down?” he mumbled again. you smiled slightly and helped him lie down on your small single bed.

he lay his head on the pillow and you lay next to him, sitting up more than him but as soon as you swung your legs up onto the mattress and got comfy, john’s arms wrapped around your waist again and he put his head on your chest. again you ran your hands through his hair and played with it. you could feel his body relaxing under your touch.

“‘re you ‘kay?” john slurred his words.

“yeah of course, why?” you questioned, he couldn’t see your confused facial expression as his eyes were shut peacefully.

“haven’t seen you in ages. thought i had upset you.” he said with a sadness in his voice.

“no, no, no.” you squeezed him a little bit tighter. “no i’ve just been so caught up with studying, i haven’t went out as much. it’s not your fault at all john!” you said as he shuffled around slightly sitting up more to look at you.

“i could help you study?” he offered laughing slightly as he knew he’d be no help.

“what exactly do you know about the romantic era john, huh?” you laughed poking his nose as he laughed.

“i’ll ‘ave you know,” he said between laughs. “i’m very romantic.”

you rolled your eyes. “they’re not love poems, silly.”

“i never said they were.” his tone changed, his voice became lower is he looked right into your eyes, his eyes now slightly darker. you had never seen this side of john before.

“jo-“

“y/n.” he cut you off before you could say anything. he put his hand at the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ear. “i came ‘ere to tell you somethin’.” his voice trailed off as he moved his hand down the side of your face and over your neck. you swallowed nervously, your eyes never leaving his.

“you know the rumours are true, y/n.” he said it quietly and his voice was still low. your breath caught in your throat and your heart was pounding in your chest.

but still he continued on, “i-well i really like you, in like a not friend way. wait! no i do like you as a friend too, oh bloody hell!” he moved away from you, his face red with embarrassment.

“that sounded really bad.” he mumbled into his hands but you just giggled in response.

“john you’re adorable.” you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him closer to you again.

he turned around to face you, opening his mouth to continue his drunk rambling but you cut him off with a kiss.

he was shocked and didn’t expect it, his eyes widened in surprise for a short second until he closed his eyes and kissed you back. his hand moved to hold the back of your neck, threading your hair through his fingers and pulling it slightly. obviously feeling a bit confident from the alcohol in his system.

the kiss which started off softly became increasingly more desperate and needy. suddenly he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him with your legs at either side of him, pulling and gripping at whatever clothing you could get your hands on.

both of you pulled away for air a few moments later. breathless you smiled at each other.

“well i-“

“shhhh.” you cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips and giggled. “you’re bad at talking when your drunk.”

“hey, i managed to sort of work up the courage to tell you how i felt!” he laughed defensively.

you laughed and kissed him again in response.

he pulled away and stroked the side of your face again. “so um, y/n will do me the honour of being my girlfriend?” he had such a goofy grin on his face and was smiling drunkly at you.

“of course, you drunk little idiot.” you laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly.

he smiled so brightly and wrapped his arms around you pulling you close. he then peppered small kisses all over you face excitedly.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.” he murmured against your ear. you smiled and continued hugging him.

“you are adorable, john deacon.”

Tag list: @rogerseyeliner @xgoingdownx @writingfortoomanyfandoms @onlyangelii @rogers-rhapsody @discodeakyy @rogers-flowered-blazer @sevenseas-queen @anita-e-taylor

sorry if i missed you

#ahh i wrote this so quickly and in two parts so sorry if its weird #john deacon x reader #john deacon fluff #john deacon fanfic #john deacon writings #john deacon imagine #john deacon #queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohrap #70s #becki writes

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