#the warriors writing

[rembrandts-spraypaint]

I feel like its been forever since my last fic, and I could get into that for hours but long story short, I finally have the energy to get back to my projects again including fanfics, so I just did this quick sweet one to get back into writing :)

[quarterlifekitty]

Cw: cum eating lol

Goddess!Reader as a forgotten deity— a small temple hidden in a cave, completely overgrown with vines and moss. The marble of the flooring is cracked and split with the dripping water and the roots of the overgrowth. There is a statue of you— life sized, not grand or impressive. The skylight of the cave bathes it in sun and moonlight as the days go by.

Warrior!König who finds your little shrine and is enchanted. He has always felt like an outsider— that he has never belonged, and never looked at with familiarity. Maybe it’s his loneliness getting to him, but he feels warmth in the gaze of the statue. You’re a beautiful figure. Despite the state of the place, he feels at home. He doesn’t have much— but he clears some vines and dust off of the offering altar and leaves a fig and a handful of oats.

In his next battle, he finds some uncanny things happening around him. He’ll be dueling an enemy, when a stray beam of light will move in just the right way to blind him for a moment, allowing König to land the killing blow. He’s about to be struck from behind with his assailant’s sword catches in the scabbard for just a moment— long enough for König to turn and fend him off. Could this be his offering at work?

He comes back. This time with an orange, and a gold piece. He gives himself a few moments to admire your form— your breasts perfect, your smile gentle and content. He uses his sword to clear a bit more debris— enough to leave you more clearly visible.

He continues to excel. Not through any supernatural strength, but due to these small strokes of luck finding him at the perfect moment. His sword striking at just the right angle to land in the chip of his enemy’s weapon, cracking it in the fault and rendering it useless. One of his arrows manages to pierce through one target and into another.

He becomes your single worshipper— and the most devoted. He brings fruits, coin, fresh cloth, milk…. And his visits become longer. He lets his hands linger when he touches the cool marble of your statue. He’s taken in a moment of weakness— infatuated with the one figure that seems to care for him— and he touches himself to your image, spilling his seed across your altar— against the red grapes he’d brought for you.

König falls asleep looking at your form. There is no plaque nor writing in your temple— he doesn’t even know your name. When he wakes, the pedestal holding your statue is empty, but he feels a warmth curled into his side, looking down to see you finishing the last of a stem of grapes.

[protagaster]

Calypso, gesturing to herself and the rest of the suitors: Now, which of us will be the object of your attraction?

Odysseus, very obviously uninterested in any of them: Hm, wow, what great options. This is going to be so hard.

[Penelope walks in, hair disheveled and clothes ripped up. She is also covered in blood]

Penelope: Oh, sisters. I’m back from war.

Odysseus, with hearts in his eyes while he shoves every single woman out of the way: Hello, sailor!

[thetoyboxs]

Older Brother Advice #35: As long as Legend doesn't die, you can fight him

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[simplykorra]

I stare at her perfect normality until I wake up and realize that I'm still the freak I've been my whole life. One thing I've learned since then. Life has a really fucked up way of making your dreams come true. - Ava Silva

[ovegakart]

Writing that hyrule warriors comic focusing on dark link INTENDING for volga and dark link to be a slow burn ship and watching everyone go "look at volga being a good dad" LIKE NO WAIT GUYS

Im so used to watching people ship two men that just breathe in the same room funny, i wasnt prepared to see yall dadzone volga. My friends are laughing at me.

[zarvasace]

I drew myself a new phone wallpaper based on the recent LU update! I just loved that shot of Wars with the fairy so heckin much <3

It isn't perfect, but feel free to use it if you'd like! (And let me know if you do! I like to know if people like my art!)

[cheatsylu]

Fanart + Fanfic #1

“A Suspicious Encounter”

[tenderleavesbob]

Warriors was trapped. He twisted and wiggled to test the limits of his captivity. It became immediately clear that his captors had no plans on letting him move at all or consider escape. He was beginning to lose feeling to his legs. His back ached. He could move his hands but couldn’t reach out or grab anything. 

With a sigh, Warriors accepted defeat and rested his head back on the wall. “Who knew he was such a lightweight?” 

Twilight snickered and sat on the edge of the bed beside Warriors. A flush from Telma’s whiskey still lit his cheeks, and his eyes looked a tad too bright. “I think he forgot to eat dinner. Only a fool drinks Telma’s good stuff on an empty stomach.”

Forgot to eat…? Warriors scowled at the snoring man sprawled across his chest. Time’s head rested over his heart, rising in time with Warrior’s breaths. He stretched over Warriors like a large, too-warm blanket. He smelled like Telma’s bar, and it made Warriors want to sneeze.

He also had his arms wrapped around Warriors like he was a stuffed animal. Warriors wiggled a bit, testing again, but Time’s grip was unrelenting.

“The idiot,” Warriors grumbled. Ah, what the hell. He was trapped, anyway, and it wasn’t like Twilight hadn’t seen it before. He started stroking Time’s back like he was one of Twilight’s cats. Time sighed happily, the ass. “I told him to eat. What did he do with his plate?”

“I think some cuccos ate it,” Twilight admitted. “There was a bunch of them, and Sky wasn’t there to shoo them away.”

Warriors stared at Twilight. “Cuccos. I… Never mind. So he drank on an empty stomach?”

“Yep,” Twilight drawled. “I’ll get some water and a potion for him. He’s gonna feel awful in the morning.”

Warriors huffed. “He deserves it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Twilight smiled at them like he was looking at a pile of puppies. If Time didn’t have Warriors so thoroughly trapped, he would hit his brother. “I’m not used to seein’ him like this, that’s all?”

Warriors scoffed. He continued petting Time, but it wasn’t like Time or Twilight was commenting. “What? Drunk and stupid?” In the morning, pre-potion, he and Time were going to have words about skipping dinner. It might even be included in his next letter to Malon.

“No. Cute.”

That caught Warriors off guard, but only for a moment. He rolled his eyes. Time mumbled something and nuzzled into Warriors’s chest. Warriors shook his head and rested his hand on the back of Time’s head, holding him close. “I told you so.”

“Yeah, but you also told me that he bites. I don’t believe that.”

Warriors raised an eyebrow at him. He had enough freedom in his right arm to hold it above Time’s body and show his wrist to Twilight. Twilight leaned forward and squinted. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Did Time?”

“Yep.”

“...those are such tiny teeth marks!”

“He was a small thing then,” Warriors agreed. He resumed stroking Time’s back. Time relaxed even more into him. It felt like he gained another twenty pounds doing so. Warriors bravely hid a wheeze. “If you don’t believe me, Wind had some pictures saved from the war.” There was no way Wind would have deleted them. Not when they were good for sentiment and blackmail.

Twilight’s mouth parted slightly. His eyes shone. “Pictures? Of a baby Time?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, by the Spirits…”

Time mumbled something again and tightened his grip on Warriors. Warriors squeaked. “Ack! Twilight. My brother. I need a favor of you.”

“Help getting free?”

“What? No. When you bring Time his potion…” Warriors wiggled again. Yep. He had definitely lost feeling in at least one foot. “Bring me one, too, okay? By morning, I’ll need it.”

Twilight cackled but didn’t leave. Not yet. Warriors couldn’t blame him. Time was adorable like this.Even drooling on Warriors’s chest like he was, the little brat!

[x-amount-of-posts]

I NEEEEEEED Kurt shippers. or just Kurt insane people to know that the german word for tail is also german slang for penis

"You like my tail dont you" said in german ("Du magst meinen schwanz, oder?") will be read as "you like my dick dont you" by a german

this isnt to discourage people from using the word Schwanz, the oposite, i want people to write Kurt saying that because he WOULD

[rembrandts-spraypaint]

Just finished my biggest writing so far! This is my take on how Rembrandt found out about and ended up joining The Warriors, plus a small mention of his friend Ash from the game :D [Should mention there are mentions of alcoholism since the character of Rembrandt's mother is based on his book counterpart Hinton's mother, and if you've read the book you know what she's like]

[thunderc1an]

Lol not to be girlie girl but like what if

leafpool fretted over her sister’s “kits” so much that thunderclan endearingly started referring to her as the 3’s second mother.

It would make sense, since of course leafpool couldn’t have kits of her own, so her nephews and niece would fit perfectly into that role for her.

And like- squirrelflight obviously didn’t care in the slightest because of the love she had for her sister. Plus it gave her the chance to stretch her legs whenever the other queens were busy.

[crazylittlejester]

I love how you have Warriors, an incredibly intelligent strategist and well respected captain in the army, Twilight, who is incredibly fierce, strong and loyal and an absolute force to be reckoned with, and Sky, the man who killed the demon king with his bare fucking hands at seventeen years old, who’s arguably the best swordsman in the entire chain and most likely the father of the royal bloodline, and you have these three incredibly powerful heroes who you’d THINK together would be some kind of powerhouse who could take down anything they put their minds to, but the reality is when you stick em in a room together they become the gods’s biggest morons and can’t accomplish shit

[bread-that-draws]

Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you

[smokestarrules]

eight-episode seasons becoming the norm, shows being cancelled after their first or second season altogether, corporations not spending a single dollar to promote their renewed shows, corporations deciding to renew based on how many people binge it over and over and over again... this is the slow, choking death of media literacy.