#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☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

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[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

[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.

[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.”

[unforgivenn]

Masochist whumpee who messes up simple tasks to get hurt by their master. When whumper notices this they get very angry and decide to show whumpee what real pain feels like

CW: torture, masochism, sadism, emotional and physical abuse

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single bulb casting eerie shadows on the walls. Whumpee stood trembling, their fingers fumbling, either in excitement or fear over the broken vase pieces scattered on the floor.

They knew the routine by now, the cycle of mistakes and punishments that had become their twisted solace. They longed for the sharp sting of their master's wrath, the only connection they had left in this world.

Whumper entered the room, their eyes narrowing as they took in the scene. "Again?" They hissed, the word dripping with venom. "You can't even handle a simple task like this?"

Whumpee's heart raced, a mixture of fear and anticipation swirling in their chest. "I'm sorry, Master," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to..."

Whumper's hand shot out, grabbing Whumpee by the collar and lifting them off the ground. "Don't lie to me!" they roared, shaking Whumpee violently. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? You want me to hurt you, don't you?"

Whumpee's eyes filled with tears, their breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Master... I... I just..."

Whumper's grip tightened, their eyes blazing with fury. "You think this is pain? You think you know what real pain feels like?" They threw Whumpee to the ground, their voice low and menacing. "I'll show you what pain really is."

Whumpee curled into a ball, their body trembling as they awaited the inevitable. Whumper disappeared into the shadows, returning moments later with a thin, cruel-looking whip. They cracked it in the air, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

"Get up," Whumper ordered, their voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Stand up and face me."

Whumpee struggled to their feet, their legs shaking uncontrollably. They met Whumper's gaze, a mixture of fear and desperate longing in their eyes. "Please, Master... I..."

"Silence!" Whumper snapped, raising the whip high. "You want pain? I'll give you pain."

The first strike landed with a sickening crack, the force of it sending Whumpee crashing to the ground. They screamed, the sound raw and guttural, echoing off the walls. Whumper didn't stop, the whip lashing out again and again, each blow more brutal than the last.

"Is this what you wanted?" Whumper snarled, their voice growing more frenzied with each strike. "Is this what you needed?"

Whumpee's screams turned to sobs, their body convulsing with each hit. They could feel their skin tearing, the blood flowing freely down their back. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that consumed every inch of their being.

Whumper finally stopped, their chest heaving with exertion. They looked down at Whumpee, a twisted smile playing on their lips. "Now you know what real pain feels like," they said softly, their voice almost gentle. "Now you understand."

Whumpee lay on the ground, their body broken and bloodied, their mind a haze of pain and confusion. They had wanted this, hadn't they? They had needed this. But now, as the darkness closed in around them, they weren't so sure. The only thing they knew for certain was that they were completely, utterly alone.

Whumper wasn’t done. They dragged Whumpee by their hair to the basement, each step down the creaky stairs echoing with dread. The basement was a chamber of horrors, tools of torment meticulously arranged on the walls. Whumpee’s eyes widened in terror as they were shoved against a cold, metal table. Their wrists and ankles were strapped down with cruel efficiency.

"Now," Whumper said, their voice a chilling whisper, "let’s see how much you can really take."

They reached for a set of sharp hooks, dangling them in front of Whumpee's wide, terrified eyes. "no..." Whumpee pleaded, their voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Ignoring the pleas, Whumper pressed the first hook into Whumpee’s flesh, just below their ribcage. The hook dug in with a sickening squelch, and the guttural scream that escaped Whumpee was animalistic to say the least.

"Shh," Whumper cooed mockingly, twisting the hook slightly. "This is just the beginning."

Whumper moved with practiced precision, embedding more hooks into Whumpee's skin, each one drawing fresh screams and rivers of blood. Whumpee's body was a canvas of suffering, each hook a cruel reminder of their tormentor's power.

"Oh but whumpee.. Do you not enjoy this..?" Whumper cooed making whumpee shake their head so fast, that their ears started ringing. Or maybe that was because of the blood loss. They weren't so sure now.

"Why do you do this, whumpee?" The whumper's voice cut through the haze of pain, his words a cruel taunt. "Why do you crave this suffering?"

Whumpee could only whimper in response, their mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, desire, and a twisted gratitude that they couldn't comprehend. The pain was relentless, a symphony of torment orchestrated by their own hand.

"Answer me!" The whumper's voice boomed, shaking them from their stupor. "Or do you need more?"

"I... I don't know!" Whumpee gasped, tears mingling with the sweat and blood on their face. "I just... I need..."

"You need me to show you what real pain feels like," the whumper finished, their voice low and chilling.

As Whumpee's screams subsided into weak, shuddering sobs, Whumper pulled out a thin, serrated knife. "You've been such a disappointment," they murmured, tracing the blade along Whumpee's thigh. "Maybe this will teach you to do better."

They carved slowly, deliberately, the knife slicing through flesh with a sickening ease. Blood pooled around Whumpee’s legs, the metallic scent mingling with the damp, musty air of the basement. Whumpee's cries grew weaker, their body wracked with uncontrollable shivers.

Whumper stepped back, surveying their handiwork with a satisfied grin. "You see," they said softly, "this is what pain really feels like."

Whumpee's vision blurred, their mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. The pain was a consuming fire, burning away any coherent thought. All that remained was a raw, unfiltered agony that left them broken and hollow.

As the darkness closed in, Whumpee’s last thought was a fleeting wish for an end to the torment, a desperate hope that they would never wake to face their master’s wrath again.

[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

[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.

[senualothbrok]

Hello, friend!

I hereby invite you to think about how, one evening, you're watching Gale gesture his way through his day. It's a comforting ritual, but tonight, after you've endured a dismissive wave for the lazier apprentices whining about their marks, an aggravated finger shake for a catastrophically wrong Evocation professor, a framing of the entire universe, a picturing of possibilities when he talks about his research... you decide you've had enough.

Not of listening to him talk (the only time you prefer him silent is when he's putting his mouth to other, differently delightful uses, but even then). You've had enough of having those lovely, eloquent hands everywhere--in the air, on the desk, scrolls, books, his glass of wine--and not on you, not in your own hands, not against your skin.

Gale stops mid-narrative when you slide into his space, eyes widening as you take his wandering right hand in both of yours. Even now it's so easy to fluster him and knock him off that confident stride with the slightest touch. Granted, the touch you're offering him is more than slight: kisses across the bumps of his knuckles and down the length of his index finger. When you slide the tip into your mouth, the sound he makes is incoherent and poetic.

You kiss his palm, tasting salt and ink, and then his mouth, where you taste the wine and him. You continue lacing your fingers through his, finding the pressure points that make him sigh, and the soft skin along the inside of his wrist that makes him shiver. However briefly you have all that energy contained, held like galaxies cupped in your hands, and as he murmurs softly against your mouth, settling into the kiss, you've never felt so powerful.

Hello friend! I can’t tell you how ecstatic I am to receive one of your legendary asks! I am in love with your writing and feel so honoured to be invited to share in this. Thank you so much, and I hope this cuts it!

-----

It is intoxicating, that power. Almost dizzying, as his breath hitches at the tingle of your tongue against his.

But you have never been one to hoard power. Everything that you have, you share with him, just as he gives you everything freely and without reservation. Between you, there is always a steady stream of desire, a give and take of control. You feel it drift into his grasp now, as his right hand dances across your jawline, the curve of your neck, the small of your back. You are the one quivering now, as his left hand slides under your shirt like he is unwrapping a priceless gift. It is your breath that catches as his fingers circle the secret spot under your breast that he knows as well as his own flesh. 

You are entranced by them - those slender hands that have doled out destruction as well as comfort, those lithe fingers that have brought forth explosions of pain and pleasure both. You watch your own hands running through the soft waves of his hair, grazing the bristles of his beard. Your hands look so small, so insubstantial, in comparison, until he slips your fingers into his mouth, and wraps your other hand around his hardness with an urgency that winds you. You echo his low moan as his fingers tighten your hold on his desire.

And as his touch becomes yours and you melt into each other, you have never felt stronger.

[omar-rudeberg]

Hi Lili! I just wanted to say that I love your fics and I've re-read them multiple times each and they still feel just as special in a re-read as they do the first time around. Inside is no exception. It was so beautiful, loving, but heartbreaking and devastating at the same time (I even shed a tear – or five). It really feels like you just get Wilmon, you know?

And it got me wondering how you think their first time having sex once they're back together (for good now) would happen post episode 6. Like in terms of their feelings and would it be rushed or slow, etc. I'm just really curious about your thoughts on the matter :)

Thank you for sharing your beautiful words and thoughts (even in tags) with us 💜

hello my beautiful beautiful human bean what a love letter you've left me ?! hearing you like and are moved by and go back to my silly little words? wild. astounding. unbelievable. thank you for reading & thank you for coming here to tell me. ahhh 'get' wilmon !! is there any greater accomplishment !! i sure hope you keep feeling this way !!

i've been pondering your second question for so long and i've landed somewhere i hope you agree with...

(fuck me this got more detailed than i bargained for, here have a read more whoopsie daisy)

i have this gut feeling that the first time they have sex post-canon (wild that we can now call it that !!) is ... weird. different. i don't know i can't really explain it, but why i think so is that their intimacy has always been this like, almost homing beacon for their relationship you know? it's been a northern star, a sturdy monolith of everything they feel and need from the other that they can't put into words, a balm that soothes any rough edges that arise from the many many incompatibilities of their individual existences.

it's been tender and exploratory, sweet and gripping, urgent and learnèd and all-encompassing, but it's never been ... slow? it's never been particuarly awkward. they've never had time, really, because with the exception of maybe the fish scene, every time they've had sex has been either a hello or a desperate goodbye.

all this to say that i think the first time they find to have sex post-s6 - and for some reason i picture them in simon's room when they finally get there? can't explain it - i think they fall back into this pattern of urgency and desperation and desire, but then something stops this in it's tracks. honestly i have this vision so clear of like... one of them unable to get it up the first time they want to fuck post-canon hahaha and again i can't explain it but it's true !! in my head it's wille, maybe, and it's something akin to the way - have you ever had that thing happen where you get sick right as you take leave from work to go on a holiday or something? like your body realises you don't have to be switched on for weeks and decides to give you a head cold? something akin to that. wilhelm's adrenaline has run its course and his body's not working the way it did before, it's taking a break, now. finally.

so to finally finally answer your question i think they'll want it to be fast, and suave, and smooth and sexy and dirty and similar to like ep3, but they'll be forced instead into awkward. into slow. into soothing. i picture like, lots of kissing, slow deep kissing, and nuzzling, and grinding (lord, so much grinding), and breaths fanning hot over goose-pimpled skin. i picture them slowly talking, whispering, realising they have it now - t i m e - they have time, now. they don't even have to fuck (the whole shebang) tonight if they don't want to (they do, oh they do want to but they talk about how they don't have to). they spend a lot of time not fucking anyway, just being close and naked and together. i picture them both working wille over so slowly - so gently - finding out together what places on his body react to being kissed, what has his belly pulling tight and having his dick interested, finally. i picture simon being brought to the edge once - twice, maybe - before wilhelm's finally in any state to fuck him, and then god save simon when wilhelm actually does enter him he's so hard and so sensitive and so just as;dkfjas;ldkfj;lsad

okay fuck literally everything i'm so sorry and/or you're welcome? is this what you bargained for? asd;lfj;lsadkjf

(if you made it this far go to my request for prompts next please i think i've put you in the right mindset)

[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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[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

[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. 

[medusapelagia]

🖍️

Thank you for your ask!

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

This is a snippet from my Steddie BigBang!

I hope you’ll enjoy it 😉

“You can’t do this!” Steve sobs, turning his head toward the wall, “You can’t come here with your mouth full of lies and play with my feelings once more.”

“I’m not playing, Steve. The documents are right in front of you. And they are signed. You can leave this firm as a free man or as a married man, but in any case, you’ll have fifty percent of my royalties.”

“What about the Munson Manor? The money?”

“Hey, look at me.” Eddie says, cradling Steve’s face gently, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Mr. Newby will take care of everything. I gave him directions to help you with whatever you decide. And you don’t have to decide now. You can ask Mr. Wheeler to make a copy and keep the originals in his safe and read them calmly at your place.”

Steve stares at him, Eddie sounds so reasonable, while Steve, now that his anger is leaving him, feels tired and confused.

“You do like me? For real?”

“What’s there not like? You’re kind and loving, and you laugh at my jokes. There are weddings that lasted years with less.” Eddie winks at him.

Ask me more

[morning-sun-brah]

🫖: If you had a tea party with your blorbos you write the most, how would it go?

Oooohhhhh...

BADLY LMAOOO

Ok ok ok... So going off of what I've been writing RIGHT NOW.

We've got a tea party with Captain John Price, Hassan Singh, Mafia Leo, Silk Mikey, Silk Leo, Silk Julie, and Mafia Vivian. WAIT. And Dead by Daylight's Trapper and that oc (who is also Vivian, I am not an original person I'm so sorry).

(Jesus Christ someone give me a sedative).

So, I don't know... they're all dead, I think? Everyone is dead. No one enjoyed the tea. Ultimate showdown-style tea party and I think the end stand-off is Mafia Leo, John, and Evan (The Trapper). ..... Bear traps are everywhere. No one escapes.

[karalovesallthegirls]

Some Q's for youuu:

8. How slow is a slow burn? 🕒

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it. 📝

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again? 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? 🤓

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't. 🪦🙀

I appreciate your dedication using the emojis, they enhanced the experience greatly!!!!

8. How slow is a slow burn? 🕒 

The hottest slow burn 2 me is one where they can barely even make eye contact for a solid 15k, let alone touch lips. I want them to go through every possible option and do every possible thing to avoid getting together for so long they’re practically pulling their hair out in the frustration of it. Their desperation for each other needs to be so unbearable that they truly genuinely lose their minds, and they then need to stay apart for a little while after that.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it. 📝 “Alien…” she whispers, eyes wide with a terror so painfully familiar to Kara. “Oh, God.” “Miss Luthor, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I just need the hard drive. That’s all," Kara says.

She tries to keep a soothing tone, but she’s so tired of this. She wants to be done. She’s so close to being done, too. The Luthor's eyes are intense and focused, studying Kara back just as deeply as Kara studies her. She’s beautiful, Kara thinks, and she’s scared. Everyone is always scared of the alien. The woman holds the device out with one hand and Kara can see the slight shake to it. “You won’t hurt me?” she asks again, and Kara smiles. “I promise,” Kara says. She grabs the drive but feels some resistance as she tugs. The other woman isn’t letting go. Kara looks at her again to find her smiling. “Funny,” Lena Luthor says. “Because I’m going to hurt you.” Kara’s head whips back with the force of the hit, blood splattering from her mouth as she falls.

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again? 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

For me I fucking LOVE a multiverse like what do you mean they will find each other in every form, in every world, in every time??? What do you MEAN if there’s a version of one that exists the other must be elsewhere waiting for the chance and not knowing it?? What do you MEAN quantum entanglement?????

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? 🤓

Don’t try to write it correctly the first round, just get material on the page. 

Write out your story concepts like you’re writing a transcript of your brain. You’re not editing or correcting or explaining meaning, just conveying exactly what is there as it is. My preferred method is just a big stream of conscious paragraph with no punctuations and often times looks like I’m describing drama to a friend via text - “[…] and then Lena was like Lex what the fuck!!!!!! bitch!!!!! and then Kara freaks out and grabs […] - and then just leave it for a little while. Come back to it later and divide them up into fragmented sentences and concepts and build from there. When I spend ages trying to think of the right way to write out my ideas more often than not I find I’ve written nothing, and the things left unwritten have faded away from my memory like they’d never been there at all.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't. 🪦🙀

I have a fic concept I flirt with sometimes where Lena is head of security for Luthor Corp distribution, which handles art and artifacts for hundreds of museums around the world, and she is forced to handle the chaos of some masked thief that keeps stealing things and returning them to their original cultures. Lillian is breathing down her neck to fix this, but no one ever seems able to even get more than a glimpse of the crook - until Lena does. 

And Lena realizes three things when she finally sees the masked Robin Hood rip-off:

1.) the thief is a woman, and somehow able to handle such massive robberies alone.

2.) The thief gets sloppy when Lena is there, nervous and bumbling and chatty. She acts like she’s never seen a pretty girl before. Like she wants to impress Lena just as much as rob her.

3.) Lena might not be able to stop the robberies with her wit, but she sure as hell can with her tits.