#writing ask

[writers-potion]

Editing Tips: Watch Out for Tautology

When you say the same thing twice with different words, it's a "tautology". They make manuscripts wordy.

Examples:

He shrugged his shoulders. -> He shrugged.

She clapped her hands. -> She clapped.

Her feet stepped back. -> She stepped back.

He hand picked up the knife. -> He picked up the knife.

If a movement is necessary for an action, the movement is included in the action and doesn't need to be spelled out separately.

He reached out his arm and took the book from her -> He took the book from her.

She lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. -> She drained her glass.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[curioushabitforarivergod]

Voldemort and harry at the end of the world and harry asks if it was all worth it. If the destruction meant anything. Voldemort says some sappy shit like . It was all worth it to have you to myself. But like. Worded better

Harry's knees collapse under him, and he falls solidly into the dirt and mud. It's over, he thinks wildly, and the thought barely computes, but it is. It's over.

Below him, London is a wreckage. There is no building still standing — just grey husks and smoke as far as the eye can see. Even St. Paul's has been destroyed, the glass dome a cavity of broken glass. It looks like a war has hit it — a war has hit it — but there's no one alive to see it through.

No one but Harry and Voldemort.

The man stands a little way off, basking in his destruction. He is the devil and Harry tilts his head to look at him, cheek sinking into the mud, blood mixing with the muck. Harry hates him with every fibre of his being, with every breath. He wants to scream and shout about what Voldemort's done — how could he? — but there's no point. In the whole world, they're the only two left.

Harry grits his teeth, unable to hold back the sob he lets out — the one that breaks through, the ones that follow. He hurts everywhere. But the hurt is not physical — even if his ribs are cracked and his scar is weeping blood — it's the hurt of loosing everything, the remorse of letting it get this far. Of letting Voldemort...

"Why?" Harry's tears mix with the blood and dirt on his face. "Why the fuck—"

Voldemort turns. His smile is condescending and sharp and cruel. Harry wants him to die. Or maybe he wants himself dead.

"Because it is magnificent. Look at it, Harry Potter. Look at it. The entire world is at my feet."

Harry's throat is hoarse with smoke. "For what purpose? There's no one here to fucking see it! They're gone! You fucking killed them!"

"Yes, I did." Voldemort moves towards him. Kneels. There is mud on the man's robes now, but Harry's gaze is forced away as Voldemort cups his bloodied cheek and lifts his head. "It's just us now, Harry. Don't you see? It's just us. We can make Eden anew."

Harry tries to flinch away, but Voldemort is stronger, drawing Harry's head up painfully. When they kiss, though, it is soft and loving. Harry didn't think it was possible for Voldemort to be gentle. Not after this.

"See?" Voldemort asks, eyes gleaming dimly as he draws away. "It's just us now, Harry. Everything is worth it to have you."

Harry doesn't know how to fight anymore. Nothing is worth it now.

[merlyybird]

Could I ask for Vector being sick for a writing request?

"You really think it's that bad?" Vector could speak again now that the thermometer was out, but his voice still had a shortness to it due to his stuffy nose. "Come on, Espio. It's just a common cold. You don't need to do all this."

Espio peered at the reading on the thermometer. "Well, you're still running a fever, but it's gone down. That's a good sign." He turned it off and set it on the bedside table. "Another day of rest and I'm sure you'll feel better."

"What??" Vector sat up in bed a little. "No, hang on. Read it again. Maybe it was just a trick of the light or---" He froze in the middle of his sentence with a scrunched-up look on his face. "Ahh...aaahhh---" He reached for a tissue and brought it to his nose. "---CHOO!"  The tissue fluttered as he blew into it. He lowered it and sniffed. "...I feel fine."

"Vector," Espio raised an eyebrow and held out one hand, prompting Vector to lay down again. "Don't debate this with me. You don't need to work right now, you need rest."

Vector sighed and slouched back against his pillow. "...Ah, darn it." He dropped his dirty tissue in the nearby trash can and flopped his arm over his forehead. "Why'd this stupid bug have to get me today? Couldn't it have waited a week?"

"That's not really how illnesses work," said Espio.

"I know that! It's just...we've got such a packed schedule. I was supposed to interview two different clients, do research on our case, go to the grocery store---"

"All of those things will still happen." Espio brought a hand to his chest. "I'll take care of it."

Vector sat up again to stare at him. "Really?" He tilted his head forward. "You sure you can handle it?"

"Of course."

"And you're sure you can keep him outta trouble?"

Vector gestured toward the doorway, where Charmy had just entered, flying, carrying a very full cup of water.

"Here you go!" He rushed forward a little too fast and water sloshed right onto the floor. "Whoops---!"

"Charmy, careful!" Espio ducked as Charmy swooped over him. Some of the water splashed onto his head, and he froze for a second before slowly wiping it from his eyes. He stood up. "...I'm getting some paper towels."

Espio left the room while Charmy set what remained of the water on the bedside table, next to the thermometer. "There." He landed on the floor and looked up at Vector with big eyes.

Vector sighed, smiled, and gave Charmy a pat on the head. "Thanks." He raised a playful eyebrow. "So how come you zoomed in here like that? It's not a race, kiddo. You just made a mess."

"Yeah, but Espio said you needed water right now, so I did it really fast," Charmy beamed proudly, then tilted his head. "Do you need anything else? I can get it!"

"Uhhh, I'm good for now. Thanks, bud."

Espio walked back into the room with a roll of paper towels under his arm. He began to tear them off one by one and drape them over the puddles of spilled water on the floor.

Vector watched Espio with a knowing smile. "Already more than you bargained for, huh?"

Espio gathered up the soaked paper towels in one arm, got to his feet, and seemingly refused to make eye contact with Vector---he was trying a little too hard to seem cool and aloof. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "No. This is all very feasible. See? I just solved that problem. I can solve more." He opened his eyes and pointed at Vector. "Don't get up."

"Don't worry, Vector. We're gonna take good care of you." Charmy gave him a pat on the arm, then leaned in and looked at him pointedly. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

Vector glanced at Espio, who shrugged, then smiled politely back down at Charmy. "Uh...I guess I'm kinda hungry?"

"Oooh, okay! We have a can of noodle soup left, don't we? Don't we??" Charmy took to the air again. "Be right back!"

He zipped past Espio, out the doorway, and had to skid to a halt in the air before turning down the hall.

Espio and Vector both watched him go. Espio waited until he was out of earshot to turn back towards Vector with a concerned expression on his face. He pointed awkwardly back toward the doorway with his thumb. "I should..."

"Yeah, you should go help him," Vector laughed. Espio moved to leave.

"Hey," Vector said, prompting Espio to wait. Vector smiled at him. "...You got this. You're a capable guy, I just...hate to leave you hangin'."

Espio's eyes brightened, and his stance loosened a little---this was how Vector could tell he was happy. "Thank you," muttered Espio, "You deserve a day off." He gave Vector a single nod. "I won't let you down."

With that, he left the room. Vector settled into bed and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

As much as he hated being down for the count, at least he could rest easy knowing Espio would handle everything, just for a day. Including whatever mess Charmy was about to make in the kitchen.

[note: i used this kinda like a short story/scene warmup prompt! i very much enjoy putting the chaotix in a mundane situation]

[orchid-and-bone]

Could I have a John x fem reader where the reader reacts to John winning (but still beat tf up) in a bar fight?

Thanks bestie <3

Eyyy of COURSE you can bestie?! I have been practicing writing John, and I may not be the best, but I think I'm confident in my abilities. I think. But here, have a fun, flirty little brawl with your man~

"Trouble" ||

John Marston x f!Reader

Length: 2.1k

Rating: Mature: Mentions of blood, fighting, language

How John ended up in this situation was honestly beyond him, it was just an innocent outing with you and him running some errands for the ranch, and yet he was getting fist after fist pounded into his face. 

After a long day of working, you could tell he was going stir-crazy. His old life was all about freedom and running around, doing things to bring in money or just getting to do as he pleased, but now? He was on a ranch, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to get by, and his trigger finger was beginning to itch. But to make you happy, to keep your heads low, and to survive, John had to behave and live as his persona for the time being. 

“So, Jim,” you said with a smirk, “maybe we should stop at a saloon since it’s getting dark, we could eat a decent meal, maybe stay in a hotel for the night. I’m tired,” you sighed and leaned your head against the man’s shoulder. 

John matched your sigh and flicked the reigns on the horses as he pulled them to the right, heading into Valentine's territory, which he hadn’t expected to be back here so soon. “I mean, it is a long way back, we could use the rest. And I am starvin’, could use something that isn’t a stew for once.” 

You both pulled the wagon off and made sure the horses were comfortable, hitched to a nearby post, and then John helped you down to the ground and smiled wide with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Well, let’s get inside, maybe we can get a bath before bed, too,” he said softly with a smirk. He pulled you along and walked beside you, looking around the town that felt so different from when he was last here. 

As you both entered the saloon, you definitely could tell that the environment was more lively, but you both tried to keep your wits about you as you ordered some food and sat in the corner, away from the rowdy group of people. The food was delicious and the conversation you shared was pleasant, as usual, but John couldn't shake the feeling that eyes kept falling on you both. He'd look away from you as he stopped mid-sentence to see one of the men staring at the both of you, but he tried to pay no mind, you were taking his attention. 

The food was finished and you both were feeling content, the party of people in the saloon only grew larger in number and louder in volume, so you both figured it was time to head out to the hotel for the evening. John allowed you to walk out first so he could follow behind you, but you had barely gotten several steps toward the door when one of the men stepped in front of your path, blocking you from the exit.

“Hey there now, y'all ain't plannin’ on comin’ over to celebrate with us?” 

“Sorry, friend, but we have other plans to attend to,” John answered firmly. 

The man just scoffed, the reek of booze was strong on his breath, it was a wonder he was still standing. “Aww c'mon, my friend over there is gettin’ married, you could have one drink to congratulate him!”

“Sorry sir, but we don't even know you,” you said sharply, stepping back from him, and bumping into John. You felt a bit more at ease since he was here.

“And? You ain't heard of makin’ friends?” The man chuckled and grabbed your arm, pulling you along toward the table. He then decided to yank your arm and attempt to pull you over toward the table, but John stepped up and grabbed his wrist hard. 

“We ain't interested, sir. My woman and I are heading out for the evenin’, so maybe next time you should use your brain and not touch a lady when she says no.” 

John pushed the man away so you both had room to leave, but some of the drunk’s friends decided to get involved. 

John stepped up protectively, his spine stiffened as his hand hovered over the knife that was holstered, hidden beneath his jacket. “Sir, you got till the count of three to back off and leave us alone,” he warned. 

There had been a taller man who stood up from the table and interjected, pushing his friend gently off to the side. “Are you threatenin’ us?” He snapped. 

“I ‘spose I am,” John retorted, holding his ground as he pushed you further behind him to shield you. 

Another of the man's friends stepped up and tried to land a surprise swing on John, but he pushed you out of the way and took the hook to his shoulder. After that, John was brawling with several of the men who ganged up on you both. The one in the red shirt had tried to grab John to put him in a headlock so his friends could take their turns wailing on him, but your John was fast. He elbowed Red and kicked his leg in, causing the man to fall flat on his face.

That was one down—three more to go.

“I ain’t been in a bar fight in a long time,” John commented as he had both arms up, ready to block any attacks if needed, “but I’d rather continue my night with my lady if you gentlemen don’t mind.”

The three other men all ignored him and each one tried to punch him at different intervals to throw him off, but somehow, John managed to throw one man into the other and watched as the two tumbled straight into a table. The others who occupied the saloon were standing back and vacating the building. The bartender just sighed and walked off, not wanting to be part of yet another brawl. That left you, standing on the stairs away from the tussle. 

The gunslinger looked back and you, making sure you were out of harm's way, then he got back to it. The two men who collided with the table were too drunk to stand, and all they did was stumble over one another. There was one left standing, and he was a little larger than the others. 

“Look, I can just leave, no reason you gotta get involved,” John said nonchalantly, his stance easing up a little.

The man just glared down at him and he scoffed at the offer. “You ruined my engagement celebration, mister, I don’t take so kind to that.”

John just sighed and lifted his hands again, balling them into fists. “Alright then, have it your way,” he replied.

The man took a fast step forward and swung his fist straight at John’s jaw, and if it weren’t for the speed, maybe John would have dodged it, instead, he got nicked against his chin, which still caught him enough to cause some pain. That was all the distraction the man needed to step in and lunge at John, his larger body barreled into him and tackled him to the floor.

You let out a yelp, terrified that the man was going to have a one-up on John, and all you could do was watch in fear as your hands gripped the railing in fear. 

The gunslinger was pinned onto the floor as the man above him threw punch after punch, landing a blow on his cheek, and almost breaking his nose at one point. John held up his arms to block and tried his best to use the strength from his legs to somehow get him to slip off, and he managed to throw the man off of him for a split second. He scrambled to find some balance, then rolled off to the side as the man recovered. 

“Give up yet?” John asked with a smirk on his face as he licked the blood from his split lip, the bruises on his face forming fast.

The man just yelled out in frustration and then John had him in a blind frenzy, which made any man messy in a fight. John ducked from the swing and swung his right arm quickly, the blow landed in the side of the man’s temple, stunning him momentarily. Then it was over, John was finally standing over him and landing punch after punch in the man’s face until he fell unconscious. The gunslinger released the man’s collar, allowing his body to fall slack onto the wooden floor. 

He looked up at you, panting to catch his breath as he straightened his posture. The people who occupied the saloon had all either hidden somewhere or run off, and there were just the two of you left with the pile of unconscious men scattered about on the floor. You waited a moment before hesitantly walking down the stairs to run into his arms, thankful he was alright despite being a little black and blue. 

“As always you’re my hero,” you chuckled and reached up to touch his face, wiping away a smear of blood from his lip. 

“And as always, we’re both gettin’ into trouble,” he replied gruffly.

You just scoffed. “We?” 

“Well yeah, you’re my accomplice, partner in crime, ain’t you?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus you’re the one always gettin’ the attention,” John teased as he slipped his arm through yours. He pulled you along and threw a couple of bills onto the countertop, then escorted you outside and across the muddly way, leading you straight to the hotel. 

You both walked inside, the environment a complete flip from the saloon, and you were more at ease now, and even more thankful when you saw the list of services. The gentleman behind the counter stopped sweeping the floor and greeted you both with a kind smile.

“Howdy, how can I help y’all this evenin’?” He looked between the both of you with concern but didn’t voice them. 

Your eyes looked over at John with a smile and then back at the desk man. “One bath and one room, please.”

The man smiled and got everything situated for you both, you thanked him and paid, then pulled John up the stairs to the bath. He followed obediently and cracked his neck as he ascended the stairs with you, groaning.

“Sleepin’ is gonna be a bitch, I just know it,” he complained.

“Well if you behaved for five minutes you wouldn’t have to worry about it, would you?” You scolded playfully as you looked over your shoulder at him. “He got some good hits in, but not gonna lie, Mister Marston, you looked really good kickin’ his ass.” You flashed him a cheeky smile and continued to lead him to the bath. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll get the room ready.” 

You almost walked away, leaving him in front of the bath door, but his hand grabbed your wrist, and then he pulled you back toward him, falling into him as his arms wrapped around you. “Yeah? You think I looked good, huh?” He asked flirtatiously, pulling you close so his face was mere inches from yours. “Then why do you think you can just leave me here alone?” “John Marston, are you implyin’ I’m gonna join you in your bath?” You gasped, faux shock crossed your features. 

All he could do was smile, the raised edges of the scars across his face made his face look extra handsome, and the dim lighting in the hall only made you admire his face even more. “Nah, I’m declarin’ that you are, unless you don’t wanna?” His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you into the most tender kiss he could manage. 

When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open and you just stared up at him with a lovestruck smile. “Well, when you put it that way…”

That was all the confirmation he needed, so he opened the door to the readied hot bath, pulling you in after him, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he closed the door behind you both. You sighed as he leaned your hands against his chest, just smiling up at him with that look.

“I know that look, what is it?” 

“Nothin’, you’re just trouble, John Marston,” you said softly, your hand cupped his cheek again, mindful of how gentle you had to be. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that, right?”

The man looked down at you and pulled you into another kiss, pulling away a moment later with that charming smile you were unable to resist, his hand reached up to brush your hair away from your face so he could see the light in those pretty eyes of yours. Just a minor setback to your shared evening, but John always had ways to make it up to you. 

[novlr]

How do I create laws/rules for my world-building?

Creating laws and rules is a crucial aspect of worldbuilding in any piece of fiction. Well-crafted guidelines help maintain consistency, add depth, and enhance the reader’s experience by making the fictional universe more believable and immersive. When fiction is set in our world, in current times, these rules are implicit but still exist. The trick is to make all readers, regardless of genre, feel that same familiarity.

Why are laws and rules important?

Laws and rules provide structure and order to your fictional society

They help define the boundaries and limitations of your world

Consistent laws and rules make your world feel more realistic and believable

They can serve as a source of conflict and tension in your story

Laws and rules can reflect the values, beliefs, and cultural norms of your fictional society

Understanding your world’s laws and rules will help you create a world that’s more immersive

Consider the context of your world

Take the genre and tone of your story into account when creating laws and rules

Consider the technological advancement and magic system (if applicable) of your world

Think about the political structure and power dynamics within your society

Reflect on the history and cultural background of your fictional world

Determine the environmental factors that may influence laws and rules (e.g., resource scarcity, climate)

Tailor your laws and rules to fit the unique context of your world

Draw inspiration from real-world examples

Study historical and contemporary legal systems for inspiration

Look at how different cultures and societies have approached law-making

Analyse the laws and rules of other fictional worlds you admire

Consider how real-world laws and rules have evolved over time and why

Examine the consequences and implications of real-world laws and rules

Adapt and modify real-world examples to fit your fictional world

Balance realism and creativity

Strive for a balance between realism and creativity when creating laws and rules

Ensure that your laws and rules are logical and consistent within your world’s context

Allow room for creative and unique elements that set your world apart

Consider how your laws and rules can contribute to the overall narrative and themes of your story

Don’t be afraid to break conventions and introduce unconventional laws and rules

Remember that your fictional world is an opportunity to explore new ideas and possibilities

Integrate them into your story

Introduce laws and rules organically through character interactions and world-building elements

Use laws and rules to create conflict and tension

Show how characters navigate and respond to the laws and rules of your world

Explore the consequences of breaking or challenging the established laws and rules

Use laws and rules to reveal aspects of your characters’ personalities and motivations

Integrate laws and rules seamlessly into your narrative to enhance the overall reading experience

Evolve and adapt laws and rules

Consider how laws and rules may change and evolve in response to events and character actions

Reflect on how these changes impact your world and its inhabitants

Have laws and rules be dynamic and responsive to the needs of your fictional society

Explore how different groups or individuals within your society may interpret and respond to changes in laws and rules

Use the evolution of laws and rules to showcase character development and growth

Consider how the changing laws and rules may impact the overall plot and direction of your story

[depressed-sock]

a prompt for you! commander thorn and sparkle.

Thank you! :D 💜💜💜

...

“So I know what this looks like.”

“Thorn,” Fox groans, nose pinched between his fingers. Headache day then. That's alright, Thorn can work with that.

“Listen, we're just doing the Chancellor a favor. You know? Making his day a little more… sparkly.”

Fox sighs. It’s a heavy heave kind of sigh that tells Thorn he's not going to have to fight hard to win this one. It takes effort to hold on to the placid blank look he's perfected.

“Don't get caught.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sir!” Thorn grins, motioning forward his accomplices. “I'll take pictures!”

“Please, don't create evidence.”

[crmediagal]

#38 for the writing ask! elucien please 🥰

#38. “All I wanted was for you to be happy.” by CRMediaGal

"All I wanted—All I've ever wanted since this shit show began—is your happiness, Elain."

She held her breath, an invisible pang that wasn't her own thumping against the underside of her ribs. She had felt that piercing sting before: his personal torture and disquiet. But it had never been quite this powerful.

She forced her gaze upwards, determined to meet the harsh reality that stared directly back at her. He was a thing of beauty—Achingly, terribly beautiful...—a scarred, redheaded, sharply-structured male whom her convoluted feelings had tried to avoid again and again...but to no avail.

He wants my happiness...without any consideration for his own, her mind reckoned, though her heart bruised at how badly this mating bond was tearing apart Lucien's good senses. Surely, he'd feel differently if he could just recognize how unworthy I am were it not for the bond.

Lucien's jaw tightened, his russet eye searching what he perceived as disenchantment. "Is that so hard to believe?" he eventually asked, the question a mere whisper in the darkened foyer of the Town House at Velaris; but the bluntness in his tone—its direct weight caving in on Elain's chest—thickened the heavy silence between them.

She made to blink away the discomfort coiling at her insides. That agonizing longing in his stare was persistent, unyielding. But she didn't deserve his affections. She never had.

It's the stupid mating bond that's responsible for this want. Yet, something else lingered, awaiting her tender care in order to see it bloom. She was too scared to give it a name, but it was far more intense and certain than anything she had ever felt in her life, human or Fae.

No...

The burdensome act of shoving Lucien away had proven itself an impossible task, so Elain settled for roping her arms around herself, pinned between the wall at her back and a warm, strong body that hungered to be touched.

"No," she confessed moments later, hardly able to maintain her gaze, "it's not. I... I believe you."

A heartbeat and a pause. "Then what?"

I've seen your heart, and I'm unworthy of it! she wanted to scream. Instead, her tongue clamped down. And I won't withstand the pain in ultimately losing you! I can't, I can't...

"What have I done?" he softly pushed. But there was an edge there. An irritation to these inquiries that hadn't been there prior. As if all of the male's gentlemanly restraints and patience up to this moment were finally unraveling like a roll of yarn.

"Nothing." Elain's shoulders dropped. "You've done nothing."

There . The truth, at least. After all, he was blameless in the Cauldron's cruel doing...but her repeated silent treatment and recoiling in his presence, she feared, had left the poor male thinking himself somehow responsible.

Lucien's golden mechanical eye narrowed. "Would you have rather I shoved my way into your life, then? Would that have made a difference?"

Elain frowned. "No—"

"I thought space was what you desired." He gave a flippant wave and sighed, looking away from her at last. Doing so seemed to cause him great agony, though. Slowly, his considerate eyes met hers once more. "That you needed time to deal with your...trauma."

Elain's frown deepened. "I... I've dealt with it. I'm fine."

"Then what?"

When her mouth trembled but continued to not form words, Lucien's Adam's apple bobbed. The silence heightened to a near suffocating pitch.

"All I wanted was for you to be happy, Elain." The words were forced, hushed, as if there were more on the tip of his tongue; more that he would never utter now.

Tears suddenly threatened Elain's vision. "I know...but I... I don't deserve that from you."

He stared at her with fresh confusion. And pain. "I didn't think wanting your happiness was so untoward?"

She jerked. "That's not—"

"You're right." His next words made her throat collapse into the pit of her stomach. "You look at me as if I'm some vile...thing." He made a gesture towards the brutal, unavoidable markings that ran the length of the left-side of his face and his stare wilted. "And I am. You deserve better than the likes of me."

"Lu - Lucien!"

Elain started forward with a quivering hand outstretched, but Lucien denied her reach. In a flash, he whirled on his heel and exited the front door, the quietude of his absence—and heartbreaking parting words—continuing to ring in Elain's ears long after.

[kiingleoturtles]

Do I want the links? OF COURSE I WANT THE LINKS /ref 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Hi!!!!!

Okay so I have a series (Eldritch Falls cause I couldn't think of a different name) with vampire Fiddleford and Werewolf Stan that I'm working on a fair few more parts for which you can find here:

And my friend @shirou-chan12 (let me know if you want your tag removed buddy!) has also written a series which you can find here:

Anyway enjoy the fics if you do read them! There isn't enough vampire Fidds and werewolf Stan in the world

[writers-potion]

Let's Scare Your Readers!

Combine the techniques below with the techniques for building suspense to give your readers a palm-sweating sensation!

Darkness

If absolute darkness doesn't make sense in your story, aim for semi-darkness: dusk, a single lantern/candle, heavily curtained windows, a thick canopy of trees, etc. Flickering lights that create confusing shadows can also be effective.

Let the darkness pool gradually around your MC. Show the night or fog rolling in, the camp-fire subsiding, or the candles burn down one by one.

Examples:

The candle sputtered. The light wavered.

The lamp cast its smoky light on the brick walls.

The night was silent, but for the dry rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees.

Sound

Of all the senses, the sense of hearing serves best to create excitement and fear.

the clacking of the villain's boots on the floor tiles, the ticking of the wall clock, a dog barking outside, the roaring of a distant motor, a door slamming somewhere in the house, water dripping from the ceiling, the chair squeaking, the whine of the dentist's drill, the scraping of the knife on a whetstone, a faraway siren wailing the heroine's own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When the surroundings are dark, your MC will grow to be more aware of the surrounding noise, even if it's not relevant to the plot.

Chill

Make it uncomfortably cold for the MC, and your readers will shiver with them.

powercut cutting off the heating, nightfall naturally bringing in lower temperatures.

winter, evening, a cool breeze that chills everything, survivors running our of fuel, the ceiling fan is over-active, stone builindg/caves/sbuterranean chambers tend to be cold.

Describe how the cold pinpricks the MC's skin, stunting their thinking and making them shiver.

The opposite can also be effective: turn up the temperature using a stove, an overheated motor, or the sweltering sun to make the MC sweat.

Isolation

This is a common technique: let the MC face the monster alone with no external help. It's also easier to limit the resources and escape routes available for the MC.

an abandoned factory, remote mountaintop, the depth of an unexplored cave.

It can also be more everyday locations: a construction site, the sewer, a malfunctioning bathroom.

Meet the Monster

When describing the threat, spread out your descriptions so that (1) the scene has constant action (2) you have material to build up later.

Good details to show:

hands, fingers, nails, talons, claws

the sound of the voice, growl, roar

the smile, teeth

the texture of skin, fur, scales.

Get Visceral

Never tell your readers that the MC is scared. Describe the fright using these physical effects:

the skin crawling, breath stalling, scalp pricking, clenching of the chest, stomach curling, heart thudding, sweat tricking down, clogged throat, pulse in the ears, cold sweat, chills up/down the spine, stomach knotting, breathless, etc.

The Gory Bits

Instead of describing everything, limit yourself to particular details, keeping overall description short. Non-stop gore doesn't shock - its bores.

Create a contrast: the child's mutilated corpse still clutches the doll. The brains from the baby's plt skull spill across the fluffy pink blanket.

Use similes, comparing gruesome buts to something from ordinary life. The intestines look like spaghetti in tomato sauce. The blood spilling from the mouth looks like lipstick.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[curioushabitforarivergod]

Responding to the ask request ‼️

What if.. tragic seer!harry au... He keeps making prophecies about an incoming but no one listens because they want to stay in their little bubble where there's no conflict and all is peaceful .. I got inspired by the song "Cassandra" by Taylor swift if you've ever heard it <3 the timeline and the characters around harry are up to you if you are interested in this prompt !! Hope you have a great day <3

(Ive not heard the song, but Im familiar with Greek mythology! This, though, is set shortly before 1348 and the bubonic plague that killed 1/3 of England's population)

-

Harry fingers the fine embroidery on his robes — a gift from his parents for turning 16 — and tries to banish the images of destruction from his mind.

"Are you concentrating, Harry?" His tutor. An old friend of his parents who he's known forever.

Harry shakes his head. "Sorry, I was. Something about Hastings?"

Lupin hums but a smile twitches across his face. "If I'm boring you, we could take a break? Your father was suggesting you spend some time practising for the jousting competition at the end of the month."

Harry shakes his head, again. There is a sour taste in his mouth, something rancid — not as rancid as the bodies, he tells himself, piled on carts, covered in red sores, and then, out, out, out. He doesn't want to think about the plague he knows is coming, the death.

"What would..." Harry hesitates. He's pleaded with his family over the last year, to close the borders, to ask the alchemists and the cunning folk to find a cure, but they laughed him off easily the first few times, and talked about sending him away after that. "If the population..."

Lupin sighs. He kneels beside Harry's desk, his knees creaking slightly. "We've talked about this Harry," he says softly, like he's being kind. "God won't deliver penance when we haven't sinned."

It's not about sin, Harry wants to say. He shuts his mouth instead.

They won't listen. They never do. They'll suffer for it, Harry knows, and there is nothing that can be done, but he prays every night that this time will be the one they take him seriously.

"Never mind," he says instead, frowning a little. "Keep talking about 1066. It doesn't matter."

The gift — it's not really a gift, it's a curse — came from Riddle. An older boy in the castle, Harry had liked him, liked him a lot, actually. Too much so, that was the problem.

Riddle was manipulative, he'd persuaded Harry into things Harry wasn't sure were allowed, and things Harry was certain weren't allowed.

"I'll give you a gift," he said, smile sharp as they'd leaned in the shade of a tree. "It'll be our secret, yeah? And then you can come away with me."

Harry grinned back and nodded. Seconds later, he was aware of every moment of being, twisting from him in a map of coloured threads. And when he'd looked at Tom, looked at the possibilities, the futures, the everythings, he realised couldn't be with the older boy anymore.

"No," he'd said. "No. You should leave and never come back."

Tom had shrugged, sneering slightly. "You know what you're doing. You'll come crawling back to me soon enough, begging me to love you."

Harry had laughed. "I really won't." He was the seer nobody believed, he was a myth, he knew exactly what the future held and it didn't hold Tom. "Goodbye."

His dreams came true, his thoughts. Things happened around Harry, and they kept happening and they wouldn't stop. Harry knew everything and it hurt in the base of his heart.

(And when the bodies had piled up, no one missed a local lord's son, and no one cared to remember he had warned them.)

[waywardsuniverses]

ooo for the prompt game, 🌹🖊️ please! thank you!

Oooh thank you for being my first ask! I hope this prompt is good for you. I'm going to give you a word one and a dialogue just to give you some options!

First prompt: Character A runs into their ex and it stirs us some old uncomfortable emotions, they go home and Character B sees that Character A isn't themselves. Character A tells them what happened and Character B spends the day showing Character A how much they love them and how special they are.

Dialogue Prompts: "I know I was taking a long time to figure out what was going on between us. But I know now. And I love you too"

I hope these give you some good ideas for your OCS or OTPS!!!

If you want to send in a request, you can find the original post here!

[orchid-and-bone]

"I'm Yours" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 1.3k words

Asked by @yyiikes IN LOVE WITH THIS SO MUCH ?? we need another part when he finally says it back

Part 2 of "Here With Me"

Oh, I can absolutely do that for you! I adore this man so much and he's been occupying my mind a lot, so I'm glad to have you guys enjoy my writing! I'd love to do more!

*

‘It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of my silence and their patience. I don't know what else I could possibly say to them that I already haven't written or thought here, it's… it's obvious, ain't it?’

*

Arthur stared up from his leather journal as he leaned further back against the tree in camp, the cover of the shade made it easy to stare at you across the camp as you did your usual chores, completely unaware of the set of eyes on you. The brim of his hat offered that extra layer of protection from being caught, but even if he were caught, would he even deny it?  No, he wouldn't, and he just chuckled at himself at how obvious it had been to probably everyone, excluding himself until recently.

Yes, he truly did have feelings for you, whether he cared to address them or not. He would have just chalked it up to loyalty to those in the gang, but you were a different case altogether. When he was faced with you being injured, it struck a nerve with him, and the urge to protect you outweighed anything that required any sense of logic, his instincts just took over, and that wasn’t just caring for a fellow gang member, there was something more in the depths of his gut. Arthur’s eyes flickered back down to the page and there you were, sketched carefully across the page like you were a carved statue. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d focused on such little details of you face, how he paid that much attention to those small things that made your face so…you.

He’d been thinking of you so often now, his mind full with so many ways to get you alone to have a talk, but no matter what he did, there was always someone wanting his attention, a day’s work was never finished. Today, it was a day of peace, or at least he’d hoped it would be, it was early and there were people who were barely awake. Arthur had let out a sigh and slipped the journal back into his satchel, then pushed himself from the ground and got to his feet. Instead of making his way straight to you, he went to pour himself a cup of coffee to calm his nerves, the warmth of it in his hand made him focus when he couldn’t. 

You’d been petting the horses after feeding them, and his eyes barely wavered from you for more than a moment, the intensity would have worried onlookers if it weren’t the people he’d known for years, but they knew how Arthur was. ‘He keeps his walls up’, ‘he’s not much of a talker’, all those things that were said about him weren’t necessarily a lie, but there was more to it than that. He did feel, he felt more than he let on because things of that nature were much more complicated. The one person in camp that he felt he could really talk to,besides yourself, was Charles, and even he had given him the best advice he could. 

“Talk to them,” he said bluntly. “Don’t be ashamed to tell them, they obviously put enough trust in you to confess. So, even if you don’t feel the same, it’s best to tell them exactly what you feel.”

Charles was always smart, incredibly intuitive, and Arthur was always the second guesser, but overall, his friend was right. He had been so wrapped up in thinking that he didn’t notice you going for your own cup of coffee right beside him. Arthur stood beside the fire and stared out at the water, the trees along the horizon brought him comfort in serene moments like this, but as if his body was reacting, he turned to see you staring up at him.

“You okay there?” You asked, a small smile on your lips as you brought the cup up, taking a small sip. 

Arthur cleared his throat and nodded as he brought his own cup to his lips, his eyes darted from you to the water again. “Been thinkin’ is all,” he said gruffly. 

You nodded in reply and hummed. “Yeah, I felt bad bothering you, but I wanted to be sure.” You had wanted to reach out to him to offer your support, or any comfort he might take solace in, but you decided against it. 

What you were greeted with though was Arthur beckoning you toward the large rock that sat by the shoreline. You would follow him, of course, and looked around curiously as he motioned for you to sit on the rock. As much as you wanted to question him, you kept your mouth shut and waited, patience was a virtue with this man. He then removed the journal from his bag and flipped more than halfway through until he stopped on a page, and then handed it to you with little to no hesitation while you balanced your coffee in one hand with the journal in the other. 

As you were about to ask, your eyes caught the drawing on the left, it was you, and it was sketched so beautifully that you were at a loss for words as you stared at it for a while. Arthur cleared his throat after a moment and chuckled as he tapped the other side of the journal, which was filled with words written in neat writing. You’d never seen his journal before, so all of this was a lot to process, the fact he trusted you with it in the first place showed how important you’d been.

Wordlessly, he stood there as you read the page. 

‘It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of my silence and their patience. I don't know what else I could possibly say to them that I already haven't written or thought here, it's… it's obvious, ain't it? Of course I love them, I have for a while now and it scared me. I’ve loved in my lifetime and yet, whenever I had, something bad always followed, like a curse upon my heart. But if there’s one thing I’d been told that really stuck with me, it was to take a gamble on love. It’s ridiculous to be afraid of something so natural and yet it’s been the hardest thing to admit. But I admit it, I love them. And I ain’t gonna regret it, not this time.’

When you finished, you stared up at the gunslinger with large eyes, you were struck with disbelief, dazed at the fact that this man was so articulate with how he felt and how he saw you… Your eyes went back to the pages and you stared for a long while, unable to truly say how you felt. 

Arthur shifted and took a large drink of coffee, then looked back at you. He then chuckled to himself and sighed. “Is this how you felt when you told me all that stuff and I said nothin’?” He asked you. “Because now I get it, that’s… agonizin’ to wait.” He offered a wide smile and continued to sip his coffee. 

“Arthur… I…” You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t say it, this man had your tongue. Quickly, you stood up with his closed journal, then threw your arms around his bulky frame, which almost caused him to drop his coffee, and most definitely spilled a majority of yours.

He laughed and looked down at you, your arms around him as you hid your face in his jacket. Arthur patted your shoulder gently at first, then he pulled you in with one arm and hugged you in return. This ain’t so bad, could get used to this. 

The sun was finally beginning to rise in the sky, the colors like a watercolor painting as the pinks and purples slowly faded with the hues of gold, and staring out at the sky while you were wrapped around Arthur was more of a dream than you could have ever imagined. His hand placed gently on your shoulder, allowing you to just remain with him, taking in the comfort of his scent. 

You could get used to days like this.

[novlr]

How should I go about describing a character who goes through a lot, becoming more disheveled and desperate as the plot goes on?

Desperation is the emotion that drives characters to their limits, leading to their most intense and extreme behaviours.

By showing how characters become more desperate as your plot progresses, you can create characters that are interesting, dynamic, and relatable.

Here are some ways you can show desperation in your characters. As the plot moves forward, these elements can get worse, showing their decline.

How do they behave?

Obsessive and/or compulsive

Repetitive actions like hand wringing, or overuse of stock phrases

Self-destructive and risk-seeking

Enhanced aggression

Avoidant and isolationist

Manipulative

Exploitative

Short-tempered

Impulsive decision-making

Unrelenting pursuit of something

What physical signs do they show?

Heart palpitations and short, rapid breathing

Sweating profusely

Shaking or trembling

Sudden onset of nausea

Feeling weak or dizzy

Muscle tension

Headaches

Insomnia caused by worry and stress

Feelings of fatigue

Stomach pain and cramping

How do they interact?

Begging or pleading with others

Manipulating others to get what they want

Increasing paranoia and questioning other's motives

Pushing away loved ones

Becoming overly clingy

Either an inability to trust or being too quick to trust others

Self-sabotage

Single-focus conversations

What do they look like?

Unkempt hair and poor hygiene

Rumpled, slept-in clothing

Nervous tics, like fidgeting, pacing, or picking at nails

Extreme and unexplained weight loss

A haunted, faraway, or panicked look

Dark-rimmed, bruised eyes from lack of sleep or exhaustion

A constant sheen of sweat and clammy skin

Unusual clothing choices

What body language do they display?

Hunching over, as if trying to protect themselves

Fidgeting or pacing

Avoiding eye contact

Clenching fists or grinding teeth

Sweating or shaking

Staring intently at something

Repeatedly touching hair or face

Darting eyes and biting lips

Meek and under-confident stance

Pleading look

What is their attitude?

Feeling hopelessness

Sad and dejected

Becoming increasingly irrational

A loss of faith in themselves and others

Obsession to the point of resorting to extreme measures

A sense of helplessness

Blaming others

Feeling powerless

A sense of urgency

What are some positive things that can come out of desperation?

Increased motivation to achieve their goals or solve their problems

Resilience and adaptability in the face of adversity

Heightened creativity and resourcefulness

The ability to form deep and meaningful connections with those who share their struggles

Catharsis or character growth through their struggles

What are some negative things that can come out of desperation?

A tendency to become self-destructive or engage in risky behaviour

Difficulty forming and maintaining healthy relationships

Increased isolation or loneliness

Chronic stress and physical health problems

A tendency to make impulsive or irrational decisions

Prone to depression and anxiety

[et-cant-phone-home-no-signal]

Curious to hear about that one idea you have for Talion and Celebrimbor (I love that you call him Brimby lmao) from Shadow of Mordor? I ship them hard so always happy to read more people's ideas for them

oh god honestly it's a little bit silly 😂😭 had like a thought where Talion has to sleep because he's Very Injured (does he even need to sleep anymore? i don't really care he will) and Celebrimbor (yes my beloved Brimby) just kind of watches over him but through fic writing plot they end up having a bit of a moment together and it's tender yet sexy (how will i get there? idk the writing gods will decide that i guess) but yeah nothing crazy special just a fun little ficlet about them bonding over their trauma and their loneliness. i imagine this happening some time after the incident at the black gate so they've been getting used to each other for a while so it isn't super awkward

anyway if that's something that interests people maybe i'll actually get started on it and post to AO3, I haven't done that in a while. whilst i'm here i'll also admit i've partially started the 'Godland AU' with Caranthir and Haleth and it's mostly just a fun writing exercise exploring places and people idk i wanna watch the film again so i can really get into the vibe of it

[acroagoraphobe]

Writting request: Joshua helping the Courier fall asleep while they are sick :)

OOoooo

i like this one (Courier and Joshua content my beloved)

"Courier, you must rest. You will need to so you may recover."

Joshua stated more factually than as if he actually cared to the sick Courier 6. He was busy working on his many guns that he had and didn't even glance at the courier as he said this. But he knew they were awake, he assumed they were just being their usual defiant self.

But after a small amount of time, Joshua had a little bit of concern tug at his heart for the unfortunate Courier. He could tell they were having trouble sleeping due to their generally feeling terrible from illness. So The Burned Man set his weapons down for a moment and looked over at the courier, their eyes droopy and tired, but he knew they were having difficulty with sleeping. And words alone can't fix that.

He sat down next to them and tried his best to be a comforting prescence to help them sleep. The Courier mumbled some inaudible words and turned to him.

"I can't sleep..." The Courier mumbled, exhausted.

"I am aware. That is why I'm sitting next to you. I hope it would help with that at least somewhat."

The Courier smiled at Joshua, and that smile felt like it crept it's way into his very soul. That was a smile of someone who appreciated his company. Something that Joshua sees ever so rarely.

"You would not have to be struggling now, if you were not out in the rain all day."

Joshua said in his lecture voice, yes there is a difference. (A very tiny difference from his normal tone.) But still, the Courier knew all too well, since they had been lectured many a time by Joshua.

"I know... You told me this.. like Five times now Josh-"

The courier sighed and Joshua rolled his own eyes at the shortening of his name by the courier. He never liked it, but he has accepted it at this point.

"Just try to sleep Courier. Conversation will only leave you awake."

"Fine..."

The Courier leaned their head against Joshua's arm, and Joshua almost pulled away, but their eyes were already closed, and they looked much more comfortable than before.

Joshua moved his hand to gently pat the courier on the top of their head, this was likely the most affectionate he would let himself be with the Courier, and only this once since it helped them sleep while they were feeling unwell. But he couldn't deny that it made him feel warm in a part of his heart he thought was long gone cold.