#story threads

[thevoiceofnv]

Cecil is listening to the music.

It’s such a lovely, pleasant orchestra, his house at night. He could listen to it 𝑎𝑙𝑙 night.

The rhythm of the stars sparkling in the sky, the French horn of them playing bright and warm, metallic and twinkling, rich and velvet. They fill the night, light up the dark, give the moon’s tuba an accompaniment. The brass above their head is so beautiful.

The night air is woodwinds, ringing like the windchimes Esteban made out of rabbit bones and jingle bells and streamers, hanging on their front porch. When the breeze moves along, the flutes sound; when the temperature cools, there is a saxophone in the distance. The wisps of clouds that gather above, the mist that slinks along the ground, are clarinet and bassoon; they fill those small gaps in the sound.

Night Vale is nearly a cacophony— it is almost chaos— but it is just enough to make sense. The streets are paved with piano keys; they make sweet music whenever someone takes a step outside. His neighbors are pipe organs, harps, keyboards, harpsichords, a medley of music that fits into odd angles and breaks off in pieces and still becomes a puzzle-picture all the same.

Their home is all the string, strung up around him in lingering notes. The walls are built on violin; the foundation of the house is a double bass. The light fixtures are low, dark, humming with cello. Everywhere there is the comfortable, crowded, familiar feeling of home, and it is carried along by the viola.

Esteban is his percussion section, his joy, his enthusiasm made whole, his heart outside his body. His passion is his snare drum; his curiosity is his timpani; his devotion is his cymbals. Cecil can hear a tambourine in his son’s energetic exclamations, and there is a pounding bass drum behind his skin, a power he is still growing, that rises in tempo all the time.

Carlos is a whale song. The frequencies are plentiful, beautiful; there are layers to the music inside of him. He is patterned, and he is rhythmic, and he is something that can both be explained and cannot. He is sonar; he is undersea; he is from the beginning of time, and will last until the end. The ringing call of him echoes through Cecil’s mind, an accompaniment to the orchestra around him as he curls into Cecil in bed, face buried in his throat, arm wound around him, legs tucked into his, a hand planted on his belly. His breath spreads warm across Cecil’s heart; the song is built of familiarity and love. Family.

There is such an orchestra around him. He’s not sure he is the composer— he’s not sure there is a composer— and it’s so beautiful, all the same. Maybe even more beautiful for it.

And all these sounds— the sky, and the city, and their home, and their son, and his husband, and his music— all sing together into a symphony, a philharmonic, incredible and impossible. Cecil closes his eyes and hums along.

He, himself, has a tone all his own. He has his own music that is inherent to him; his chest rings, and his heart has its own timbre, and it shivers through his insides in metronomic time with the songs around him. His tone falls in time with everything else, and it slots so perfectly into place, Cecil sighs— and the low rumble of his voice— 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒— just serves to complete the fragment of the orchestra his tone contributes.

And then, of course, the new tone.

He listens to it with pleasure and delight. Late at night like this, when Cecil can turn his eyes inward and listen to his own heart-tone and blood-rush and thought-crimes without anyone else noticing, it’s so much easier to hear his own music— and deeper, too. To hear his newest tone, the timbre that nearly matches his own, but— brighter. Lighter. An octave above his, shimmering, not quite opaque, still forming its part of the song.

And still such a lovely part of the chorus. Like it was always meant to be here, fitting into the orchestra, chiming away beneath Carlos’s hand.

Cecil lays his own hand over the back of Carlos’s. The tone rings and sings in response, and Cecil realizes what has pitched it away from his own— it’s Carlos’s song, the waves of his whale song, melted into the pitch.

Together— altogether— all, together— it is such sweet, beautiful music.

Everyone is asleep. The city around them, Night Vale resting; Carlos beside him, tucked into him; Esteban between them, wriggled in after waking up halfway through the night; and the rest— the night air, the sky, the stars, the moon, the neighbors, the foundation, the home, the bed— until they meet the tones and surround them.

Cecil listens to the music. It’s so beautiful. He could listen to it forever.

He tightens his grip on Carlos’s hand, sighs, and relaxes into the sound. Even if he’s struggling to get comfortable enough to sleep, still sick enough to feel miserable and restless— he’s never so uncomfortable that he can’t find comfort in Carlos.

The music flows around him, through him, and manifests itself into radio waves. They shimmer around him; the music is audible, and he listens with delight to the manifestation of the song. It finds its way through the air, the rhythmic air, the musical air, until it sings through the radio tower and into the speakers throughout Night Vale.

Cecil doesn’t even notice. He’s half-asleep, with radio waves singing around him, in between conscious and not, and listening to his new favorite song. And everything—

Everything feels 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

[ahb-writes]

Writing Problem: The Novel's Questions Are Left Unanswered

Problem: The Novel's Questions Are Left Unanswered

Solution: Conflicts require consequences, character arcs require a destination, and unresolved or unanswered questions have their own purpose. But having too many unanswered questions can make a novel's ending feel too foggy, if not outright incomplete. In short, loose threads can be frustrating.

Handled appropriately, loose threads may encourage the reader to hum and ponder how each character's life may evolve following the novel's events. Some readers adore the beauty of an imperfect story. However, handled poorly, loose threads speak to a poorly planned and disorganized narrative for which the writer was mistakenly more invested in drafting a kitschy or vulgar hook than a purposeful climax or dénouement.

Writing Resources:

Guide to Writing an Unreliable Narrator (Writing and Such)

Story Threads: Fixing Rips in Our Story (Writers Helping Writers)

Loose Threads Can Unravel a Novel (All Things Writing)

How to Pace a Story (Writing Questions Answered)

Figuring Out Where to End a Story (Writing Questions Answered)

Feeling Overwhelmed by Plot Points (Writing Questions Answered)

What Is the Dénouement of a Story? Your Guide (With Tips) (Jericho Writers)

How to End a Story Perfectly (Jericho Writers)

Suspense Definition Literature: Tips for Writing Suspense (Jericho Writers)

❯ ❯ Adapted from the writing masterpost series: 19 Things That Are Wrong With Your Novel (and How to Fix Them)

[overtired-thoughts]

Does anyone post how they used to back in the probably... Idk early 2000s?

I'm talking funny "Tumblr Made Me Do It", "Men of Tumblr", "transformation threads", and " story threads" (examples below. Sorry for the quality)

[dramatic-dolphin]

insane to hear those stories like "a homeless man asked me for money and i bought him some bread instead and he threw it in the trash" like wow.... all this could have been avoided if you treated him like a human being and asked "i can't give you money, is it okay if i buy you food instead?" and he would have said "no" and you could have walked away without wasting money or food, instead of assuming you knew what's best for him. it's not that fucking hard.

[alciedoodles]

part 7 of 7 - confessions

[« previous] [full story in chronological order]

Thank you all for reading! Especially if you've been following since day 1 lol :) as a side note, this was meant to be only 1 page per day, but the final two parts got a little out of hand... for a total of 16 pages! (9 just for this finale)

[griefyards]

The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir // Brokeback Mountain (2005) // Moon Song, Phoebe Bridgers // The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir // A Lover's Discourse, Roland Barthes // A Ghost Story (2017) // The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir // Candy (2006) // Letters to Vera, Vladimir Nabokov.

[ivegoneawayinsidemyhead]

Something about Chimney being quietly devastated that the brother he always pictured planning his bachelor party with is gone. Meanwhile Buck is overcompensating while trying to prove he can be a good brother to the first big brother he's ever had a chance to know.

[bookdork1]

Okay but Charlotte was extremely generous to her children in regards to their marriages up until the line of succession was in question. She let all the boys secretly date whomever they chose and, most significantly, she didn’t sell off any of her daughters as alliance chattel (the way that she was). She was extremely hands off on their love lives until she couldn’t be and the cosseted royal children don’t realize that or the fact that very few children in English society grew up with present parents

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[lykoiii]

and i never wanted anything from you

except everything you had

and what was left after that too

[stardustedknuckles]

It's looking like there's a growing divide between Campaign watchers and Tlovm watchers in terms of like. We're here for the characters. 12-episode seasons aren't. They can't be. I'm already making peace with everything we'll lose in the Mighty Nein show, and I know I will enjoy it for what it is but I also know that almost nothing that made the story so special will translate to the screen, because turning it into a show automatically means (in this day and age) that plot must be the number one priority. They've already come out and told us it's going to be different, the characters we know and love but new stories.

Because that's how this has to work. And I feel bad for campaign one lovers, because while it is certainly the easier of the two to translate to a big, overarching story, even though it's a more "traditional" high fantasy story with easier archetypal characters, the archetypes and the plot aren't what cemented most people's love for the campaign. So much of the love for critical role is stored in the interpersonal dynamics and the payoff that comes from hundreds of hours of tiny interactions that one day become cornerstones of development and even affect or dictate the plot.

There's no room for that. There's no room for Bard's Lament in a story that cannot afford to remove and replace a main character. A lot of tlovm is for people who have been here for all of campaign one. Most of it, however, isn't. It's for a new crowd. While CR may have creative control, you can bet your ass that there were months and years devoted to figuring out how to map a character-focused love of the show into a plot that hits the right beats to be viable in the show market.

And it worked. Tlovm has consistently high viewing numbers, and its popularity has brought and will continue to bring new people into the universe who have never interacted with CR previously. That's not a bad thing - imagine finishing your favorite show and discovering it has another FIVE HUNDRED HOURS of the equivalent of behind the scenes content. That's incredible for these newcomers. But man, it is in many ways a loss for us.

[aroaessidhe]

aro & ace Fairytale books

retellings

Until The Last Petal Falls - beauty & the beast aro/aro m/m QPR (prev known as The Beast of Okeme)

The Language of Roses - beauty & the beast with an aro belle

More Than Enough - beauty & the beast ace/ace m/m

The Story of the Hundred Promises - fairytale inspired (+ a little beauty & best), aro major characters and aro themes, m/nb

Little Thieves - high fantasy goose girl retelling, demi/demi m/f

Dithered Hearts - cinderella retelling, fairy godfather is aro (and has some POV)

Create My Own Perfection - aroace medusa, short story

The Ice Princess' Fair Illusion - king thrushbeard, ace lesbian & aroace, in verse

Sea Foam & Silence - the little mermaid, demiromantic & aroace, in verse

original fairytales / fairytale vibes

Come Drink With Me (& other Tales of The Thread) - Chinese original fairytales with aro themes

The Dragon of Ynys - aroace MC

Royal Rescue - aroace MC

#aspec books / aspec database / tumblr masterpost

[thewertsearch]

Curt manners. Egregious womanizing. Murdering the help. Casual arson. [o] Even atrocious candy bowl etiquette. But it is the desecration of a priceless timepiece where I must draw the line. I'm afraid I must now insist that you take your beating quite personally.

The man's beating Slick's ass to the ground with Homestuck itself. I’ve been waiting to see how Scratch himself would mix it up, and it was absolutely worth the wait. The guy’s got style.

Not the Scotty Dogs!

Alright, Doc, I can excuse causing the apocalypse, but I have to draw the line somewhere. You're going straight the fuck down to G-tier.

EB: hello? EB: you didn't fly off to fight jack yet, did you? […] EB: anyway, all that stuff you said sounds fun to me, i have hells of the cage flicks in my library. EB: i do not even care that you're an alien! you see, cage is the universal constant which unites us all. EB: well… […] EB: i will look forward to your message in the future. […] AG: OH MY FUCKING HELL, THIS IS SO INSANELY AWKWARD AND SAD.

It's honestly a good thing that Vriska's already out of the picture. It'd really suck to watch someone read through a bunch of embarrassing texts you wrote, while you were awkwardly coming to terms with the fact that you're down bad for an alien.

That'd really suck, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it, Vriska?

It’s actually pretty interesting that Scratch fights like a brawler, since he really doesn't feel like the type to get his hands dirty. Maybe he's not quite as prim and proper as he makes himself out to be.

As for Slick, I’m just impressed at his constitution. He just took a blow that essentially tore a phone directory in two, and he's still on his feet.

...well, I might be counting my chickens before they're hatched, actually. Let's check in on him in a couple of pages.

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[luminous-orb]

doodle comic i made just before beating VLR. not to worry, I Know Now :)

[luimagines]

Wild Card! Pick something on the need to write list ideas you might have!

You know what? I'm writing Part Two of Dragon! King! Time and no one can stop me. >:D

I'm writing this for me!!!

Masterlist

Part one

Content under the cut!

"Where are they?" A deep growl shakes the entirely of the castle. "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"Your Majesty, please calm down before you destroy the castle." Warrior bite his lips, not at all excited for the conversation he is about to have.

"They are supposed to come every two weeks." The kings growls incessantly. "If I had marked them by now, I would at least have a hint at what happened to them. Are you sure they haven't showed up at the apartment?"

"Positive, sir." Warrior begins to feel a little sick to his stomach, and it's not because of the residue magic that's being leaked into the air by the Ancient King himself. "All the gifts you've had me drop off are... untouched."

"It's been over a month! Almost two! And not a single note or announcement-!"

"They're not home." Warrior stresses. "They-"

The king catches the slip up. His dietic magic flares through the atmosphere, setting all dragons in a 300 miles radius on edge. "Captain, are you aware of their whereabouts?"

"...Your Majesty, I beseech you to sit down first." Warrior growls, feeling his own magic begin to rise to the surface. Little puff of flame escape his mouth despite his best efforts. He knows he would never win in a fire against the King. He is the king for a reason. But that doesn't mean he's still not capable of dealing a lot of collateral damage in the process.

King Link of Kokiri Kingdom growls up a storm, cracking the windows of the throne room before begrudgingly sitting on his throne. "Proceed." 'With caution', need not be mentioned. "Where are they?"

Warrior steels his nerve, setting his palms on fire to lessen the magic build up in his body. "The hospital."

The glass windows explode from the magical flare. All objects lift off of the floor by three feet, Warrior included. And the King has shifted into his full dragon form, taking up the majority of the space in the room due to his massive size and power.

Warrior is dropped non to gently and wastes no time shifting to his full dragon form as well, breathing the hottest wall of fire he can to get the King's attention off of raging towards the nearest hospital. He chars the floor and tapestries on the process, but this is more important.

"You can't go!"

"watch me."

"You aren't supposed to reveal her identify to the public!" Warrior reminds him. "She works undercover for a start and we knew this work could potentially injure them."

"which hospital, captain?" The King hardly looks at him and very seriously begin to gauge which wall the castle needs the least. "i'm going to claim what's mine and never let anything else threaten them."

Warrior curses the instinctual possessiveness of dragons. It never seems to end well once a human gets involved. "You cannot barge in there like a raging bull in a china shop! You'll destroy any trust they have in you. They've just started getting comfortable in your presence."

That seems to calm down the king somewhat. Time growls but manages to contain his magic at once. "....i'd frighten them."

"Exactly." Warrior doesn't allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. But this is progress.

A very long and pregnant pause settles over the throne room. In a flash of light, the King returns to his half form, growling up a storm and not at all aware of the damage to the castle. "Blast it all!"

Warrior shifts to his human form and brushes off his uniform. He's aware that the people of the castle have been talking about the King's upsets. It wasn't so bad when you had missed the first visit. He was marginally upset, but understanding, expecting a message at some point to explain why you hadn't shown up. Two weeks later, with no correspondence, you missed the second one and King Time had all but sent out a search party for you.

By the third, he was about to go mad with drive to find you.

The kingdom has never seen their cool and collected leader in such a state. Many believe that you (despite not knowing much about you as a whole) have bewitched the King and had one of the most beings in the world in the palm of your hand.

Which... isn't entirely wrong, Warrior admits. But what they didn't know is that you would rather have anything else and are constantly rejecting the King's attempts to court you discreetly.

It hasn't stopped the King, mind you, hence the gifts, but Warrior has never seen a man more head over heels for the most oblivious person.

The King has yet to stop growling but he has calmed himself down to once again look at Warrior in the eye. "...What's their condition? How long have they been there?"

Warrior sighs. That's confidential information. But... he wouldn't have the position he has if he wasn't the best at his job. "They were checked into the emergency room two days after your last meeting with them. Emergency surgery was instantly approved and they have been in the hospital for the past month. I... believe that they should have been approved to return home about a three days ago, should my calculations be correct."

Magic flares up once more as the king's rage turns against Warrior. It is a frightening sight.

"YOU KNEW!?"

Warrior holds a hand up, ignoring how everything fiber in his being is raised by the shackles. "Because I knew that you would want to smother them all the same once I continue this report. If you would allow me to do so."

Magic continues to pulse through the air but the King hasn't returned to his full dragon form, so Warrior has hope. However, the King's growls shake Warrior to his core despite his grade A acting skills. "Proceed."

Warrior gulps. "They... were critically wounded, presumably on the job. I kept this information to this day to buy them time to both return home and heal."

"what wounded them?"

Warrior hesitates.

"captain link."

"Bullets, sir. They had three bullet wounds."

A ferocious roar shakes the shattered windows from their frames, raining the glass to the cracked floor below.

"WHO?!"

"I don't know..." Warrior admits softly. "We'll have to ask them when they return..."

Because you will return, right? To them? To King Link?

You were so full of life and spunk. There was no way that this would have kept you down for long. You were critical, yes, but even Warrior managed to garner that you would have a miraculous recovery. Warrior is willing to bet it was due to the King's residue magic of his claim. It is quite potent.

Time manages to make his way back to his throne and all but collapses into it. His hands are shaking. "....For all that is good and holy...."

Warrior finally swallows the thick cotton in his mouth. It's difficult. "Your majesty... We must allow them to come back on their own terms. I'm sure they will explain everything."

Time shakes his head. "I've... never felt strongly over another before. All those employed under my kingdom and certainly under my castle are mine... but they... I want them here. I want them safe. I want them to... I just want them near me. I want to mark them. It's getting harder and harder to keep myself in check."

"I can see that, sir." Warrior jokes flatly. Now is not the time. "We all can see that. With the exception of them."

"And they don't even accept the help I'm offering to their face!" Time laments. "The last time was infuriating! You heard it! Some upstairs neighbor- Some secret admirer! It's been me! But I can't say anything and I'm forced to keep my affections to myself."

Warrior bites his tongue and lets the King take the needed breather after nearly destroying the castle from the inside out.

"Tell me honestly, Link, how helpless am I?"

"Yes."

A beat passes and Time sighs, giving his long time friend a small smile. "Where I would be without you, Captain?"

"Destroying the one shot you have to genuine romance, your majesty." Warrior smiles gently in return.

Time bite his lip, discreetly pinching the bridge of his nose to wipe the tears. "Do you think they'll keep the schedule? If nothing had happened they would be due to visit in the next three days."

"I'm not sure, your majesty." Warrior says kindly. "But we can always hope and try to look after them from afar."

Those three days couldn't have passed fast enough.

King Time paced through the throne room with his tail lashing out wildly, unable to calm himself down enough to take a sit and be patient about this.

Warrior feared he would forget how to be gentle if the moment came to it. There was still work to be done, and reconstruction hadn't finished on the throne room when the appointment arrived but the workers were shooed away for the time being as the King waited.

Just when the King was about to give up and call it day to scheme his new plan to care for you, the clock struck the late hour.

And you came.

Part 3