today was not so good but !! i’ve got cute plants and fairy lights and fics to write and books to read !! and there’s a cute girl in one of my classes and i get to see her tomorrow !! and i’ve got a new notebook to write in and i’m wearing my favorite hoodie and i don’t have school on thursday and everything’s gonna be alright !!
THIS IS A TALE CALLED THEON ADVENTURES ACROSS THE OCEAN TO GET A GIFT FOR THAT KID
Theon thinks gifting people is extremely complicate because it requires a further sensible thinking that he usually don’t allow himself to do.. Plus he is way too practical for his own good.
He knows the kid likes folktales, legends and history, well pretty much literature that does not revolve into cheap romances. And yet he also has the understanding that Ferelden is very imposing culturally towards any foreign culture including ‘Where The Hell This Midget Elf Came From’. He would approach the bookseller of Redcliffe, and after concluding that all the generic shit that guy is selling is probably the same clichê re-editions of the same tales that Mori was imposed during his childhood in that Mage-apartment-prison of his, Theon would have to seek somewhere else.
So he gets to contact his old immediate from the crew, and gets to a fucking ship to buy a fucking book.
All the time complaining that damn dog lover kid is not letting things be simple.
Of course he probably has mercenary business to attend beyond Ferelden because ‘it’s always good to kill two fishes with one hit’, as they used to say in the Antivan docks. This time his focus is in the cosmopolitan markets of the free lands near the Qunari colonies. A place of trades including eastern Thedosian merchants and their colorful books and golden parchments.
As if Theon has money for this shit. Hah.
Now he needs to get a way to sneak something from there, because it’s Theon, he may idealize helping the minor commerce and yet he needs money to live and there’s not much to buy gifts. He takes the morning the search around the books in a small tent in one of the free marches cities. He crosses by the folktales about descendent of gods and that perception of fade that intertwines so respectfully with the mortal realm in a way they do not learn in Ferelden. A myth on the four elemental Cardinal creatures and their spiritual Fade incarnations sounded interesting enough… “Haven’t the kid mentioned something about being drowned by a sea spirit or some shit like that? Yeh here, a tale on a guy who does that. Perfect”.
Again. No money. He just recall the cove of the book.
To disguise he buys a generic dragon pendant that morning and waits the night to get the book. You see, Theon is a decent thief considering it was his only task during his teenager years in Denerim. The owner of the shop however was an old eastern thedosian man, too witty for this insolent youth and he caught Theon in the act. The old man is not very sane himself, he hit Theon hand with a walking stick scaring him in the middle of the dark and then obliged Theon to stay for some tea, just this paradoxical. The shop owner also mentioned something of being tired of Fereldan pirates suddenly interested in buying pretty books for their lady lovers from foreign lands. Theon corrected him saying he wanted a gift for his little brother who is interested in this branch of witchcraft and spiritual relation that oriental thedosian culture applies, he has no gold tho because he spent everything in apples the other day.
After exchanging insults and bitter comments with Theon while sharing chai tea, the old man concluded that he liked the red haired elf. After their conversation, he excused himself and left the tent to get a smaller and more affordable book if Theon had interest. If it was on purpose or not, didn’t matter, Theon found the chance to catch the damn Cardinal spirt book he was aiming for in the first place when the man was no longer in the room. Threw some gold on the table and left before the old man got back.
SO AFTER THAT, and after covering his busyness around, he travels back to Ferelden. Get to the fucking deep roads. Talk with Rem and tell him to call that damn annoying kid cause it’s a matter of life and death.
He gives the book the Mordred with a small not that says happy birthday and he hesitates to hug him or not, deciding them to just mess Mordred’s hair as usual. What Theon doesn’t know, and Mori would find out is that the old man left a note inside the book, written in his native language, thanking the 'one eyed thief’ for sharing some tea with a lonely spirit.
Thanks for sending!! Mori deserves a whole quest to receive a present after giving what Theon most needed.
So, I don't know how to write pain like! What words do I use? how do I describe it! I really need some help here!
No problem! And sorry about not answering sooner, I was on vacation. To make it up to you, I’ve made one of my trademark Long Posts about it.
TIPS ON HOW TO WRITE PAIN (FOR BOTH ORIGINAL CONTENT WRITERS AND FANFICTION WRITERS)
When I first started writing, about eight years ago, I had the same issue as @imjustafuckinggirl.
How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before???
The characters in my book suffer through all sorts of terrible shit, and in no way am I writing from experience, which is marginally easier to do than write about something that has never happened to you.
However, with time, I managed to gather up a few strategies on how to write pain.
1. Don’t Write Paragraphs About It
I know, it’s tempting. You want to convey to the reader just how much pain the character is in, and you think that the pain will be emphasized the more you write about it.
This, however, is a lie.
As a reader, when I’m reading a book or fanfiction where, whenever the writer uses agonizingly long paragraphs to describe when a character is hurt, I skip it.
It’s boring and, quite frankly, unnecessary, especially during a fight or huge battle, which are supposed to be fast-paced.
When it comes to writing about pain, it really is about quality and not quantity.
In my own writing, I stick to short, quick paragraphs, some of them which are barely a line long. This gives it a faster pace and sort of parallels with the scattered, spread out thoughts of the character as they suffer.
2. Describe it Right
Many times, usually in fanfiction, writers over-exaggerate certain injuries.
This partially has to do with the fact that they’ve never experienced that injury before and are just thinking about what it might feel like.
As a girl with two brothers and who often participated in rough play-fights, I can assure you that getting punched is not as painful as you think it is.
(However, it does depend on the area, as well as how hard the punch is, on top of the fact that you have to take into account whether or not the punch broke bones)
I’m reading a high school AU where a character gets punched by a bully (Idk where they got punched it wasn’t stated) and the author is describing it like they’d been shot.
It was to the point where I was like Did the bully have brass knuckles or something????
It was very clear that this author had never been punched before.
When describing the pain of an injury or the injury itself, you have to take into account:
- What object was used to harm the character
- Where the injury is
- How long the character has had the injury
- (For blades) How deep the cut is
- (For blunt force trauma) How hard the hit was
- Whether or not the wound triggers other things (Ex: Concussion, vomiting, dizziness, infection, internal/external bleeding).
There’s also the fact that when some authors described wounds caused by blades such as knives, daggers, and swords, they never take into account the anatomy of a person and which places cause the most blood flow.
Obviously, a cut on your cheek will have less of a blood flow than a cut on your wrist, depending on what the blade hits, and I hope that everyone consults a diagram of veins, capillaries, arteries, etc. when they’re describing blood flow from a certain place.
There’s also the fact that you have to take into account where the blood is coming from. Veins? Arteries?
The blood from arteries will be a brighter red, like vermilion, than the blood from veins, which is the dark crimson everyone likes to talk about.
Not all places gush bright red blood, people!
3. DIFFERENT INJURIES HAVE DIFFERENT KINDS OF PAIN
Here, let me explain.
A punch feels different from a slap.
A broken arm feels different from getting stabbed.
A fall feels different from a dog bite.
I’ll give you a list of all the kinds of things that can be described for the three most common kinds of injuries that happen in stories:
Punch/Blunt Force Trauma
How it feels:
- Numbness (In the later stages)
- A single spike of pain before it fades into an ache
- Vomiting (If the character is punched in the gut)
- Broken bones
- Unconsciousness (Blow to the head)
- Dizziness (Blow to the head)
- Concussion (Also a blow to the head)
- Internal bleeding
- Death (In the case of concussions and internal bleeding and broken bones- ribs can pierce lungs)
How it feels:
- Stinging (only shallow wounds have just stinging)
- With stab wounds, I feel like describing the effects of it make it more powerfully felt by the reader
- Bleeding (Consult chart of the circulatory system beforehand for the amount of blood flow that should be described and what color the blood should be)
- Dizziness (Heavy blood loss)
- Infection (if left unattended)
How it feels:
- Depends on the caliber bullet, from how far away they were shot (point-blank range is nothing like being shot from a distance), and in what place. Do careful research and then make your decision.
(Consult chart of the circulatory system beforehand for the amount of
blood flow that should be described and what color the blood should be. Also take into effect the above variables for blood flow as well.)
- Dizziness (Heavy blood loss)
- Infection (if left unattended)
Some things that a character may do while they’re injured:
- Heavy/Harsh/Ragged breathing
- Making noises of pain
yelping (when the injury is inflicted)
- Crying/ Weeping/Sobbing/Etc.
- Clenching their teeth
- Unable to speak
- Pressing their hands against a stab wound/cut to try and stem the bleeding
- Eyesight going out of whack (vision blurring and tilting, the room spinning, black spots consuming sight)
To say Tom was a bit on edge would have been an understatement. With the recent GQ article talking about his previous girlfriend, and more rumors about how long the two of you would last or when you’d break up, he desperately needed a ‘lazy day’. So, you took it into your own hands, and made sure Thomas had nothing planned on his birthday until the night, when he could celebrate with family and friends.
The two of you had been long time friends, and after Thomas recovered from Taylor, you surprised each other by realizing you had buried shared emotions. You avoided the media as a couple, but the important people in your lives knew, and thanks to them, Tom Hiddleston got to have a relaxing birthday.
Said actor was currently in bed, boxers only, well past his normal waking time. His eyes eased open to the soft golden glow coming through the windows, and when he saw your heavenly smile at his side, he knew being 36 was going to be enjoyable.
“Good morning, love… What time is it?” He asked groggily, as he shifted to wrap his arms around your loosely clothed torso. You had taken to wearing Marvel pajamas as a joke with him, and currently, you just had undergarments and his Thor shirt, which was certainly oversized for you.
“9:26am.” You responded, after glancing at the clock. You heard Tom take in a sharp breath as his eyes widened, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, interrupting his worried thoughts. “Thomas, today is your birthday. You have earned a break, so don’t worry… That’s my job.” You joked lightly, running your fingers through his soft hair, letting your nails massage his scalp. He hummed contentedly at the feeling, letting his eyes close.
“Wh-What about-” he began, but soon felt your soft lips against his, prompting him to react in kind. His hands drifted to your waist and hair, but before he could lose himself in your embrace, you pulled back and smiled sweetly.
“Tom, it’s fine. Everything will be okay.” You reassured, before shifting so you straddled his waist and looked down at him, planting your hands to the sides of his head. “You deserve the world, but today, rest should do the trick. I’ll make some tea, pop in a movie or find a nice record, and we can while the day away doing whatever you want… except working.” You explained, your voice low and silky. Tom stared up at you with wonder in his eyes, as he let out a string of soft chuckles and reached his hands up to brush back your curtain of hair.
“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, his voice wistful and loving. You chuckled lightly and leaned down, pressing your soft mouth to his in slow kisses. After a few seconds, you parted, but remained a breath away.
“You didn’t have to do anything… Now, any ideas for the day, birthday boy?” You asked with a growing grin. Thomas knew you were determined to give him a relaxing day, so he happily accepted that gift. However, he did have some plans of his own for you.
“Oh, darling… this is going to be the busiest day off we’ve ever had.”
Levi’s Nightmare: Having a heart-to-heart with Pastor Nick.
“Are you worried about your wife?”
The question shocked him out of his musings.
Levi looked up, “My what?”
But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”
Levi cut him off, “Mywhat?”
The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”
Fic tags/warnings : angst, pining, friends to lovers, roommates, but they don’t live in the same actual room, flatmates, modern flat, domesticity, cooking, cooking breakfast, not cooking lunch or dinner, eggs, omelettes, non-veganism, dish ware, tea, drinking the tea, bickering, snark, watching tv, rupaul’s drag race, shangela, more pining, referring to boys as gorgeous, holding hands, interlaced fingers, legs touching, knees touching, fabrics, use of shoulder as a pillow, cuddling, breathing, hearts pounding, continued television watching, whispering, failing to act, time skips, sleeping, sleeping in separate rooms, nightmares, waking up, moving to the same bed, bed sharing, cotton sheets, awkwardness, hugging, comfort, a restful night’s sleep, morning breath, pretend disgust, staring into each other’s eyes, kissing, giggles, face touching, noses, butterfly kisses, fluff, lots of fluff, pressing together, frotting, frotting through pajamas, silk pajamas, flannel pajamas, friction, hardness, pleasure, sweat, ecstasy, sexual release, bodily fluids, mentions of laundry, implied bathroom usage, more breakfast, hugging from behind, feelings of surprise, feelings of contentment, happiness, hopeful resolution
Commenter: y wouldn’t u have a warning for doing the dishes? I hate being reminded of my chores, had to stop reading
This episode was full of River Song feelings, but I’d like to highlight something: The Doctor has always avoided death, he has never willingly murdered someone, he does everything he can so everyone can live. Then, at the begining of this episode, he finds himself in front of Missy, the person who he has repeatedly refused to kill, his last friend and connection to his people, and, yet, he doesn’t care anymore.
Because this is The Doctor after Darillium, his wife isn’t with him anymore. She died. If River Song died, then why should he care about Missy? He’s without hope.
In comes Nardole and reads a quote from River’s diary. He doesn’t kill Missy. River Song, his wife, reminds him of what he is, what he should be. That happens again at the end of the episode when he says that belief is all that he is, and he believes in what River wrote. Being The Doctor is believing in that, it’s never giving in, even without hope.
River Song is amazing, a badass, and saves the day and The Doctor even from her grave.
ps: Nardole says he’s the only person “officially licensed to kick the Doctor’s arse”, which implies that River is the only person who can give that permission, cause, you know, she’s River Song, The Doctor’s wife and queen.
i don’t see how anyone is surprised that marlene killed yvonne so spoby could happen. it was pretty fucking obvious that she wasn’t going to stick around from the start. it’s rushed, it’s shitty writing, it’s problematic as hell, and yvonne and spoby both deserved a far better resolution.
But come on, this is the writing team that decided romance was having caleb and spencer fall in love for half a season only for caleb to cheat on her with hanna and then claim he’s loved hanna all along, who are still romanticizing a teacher/student relationship that, even looking past all it’s other transgressions, continues to be boring af, who think the best way to put emily and alison together, the slowburn ship to end all slowburn ships who would have had no trouble being brought together naturally, is to introduce two other girls for emily and then inject emily’s eggs into alison in a complete and utter violation of both girls bodies.
like, did you expect better from the writers? really? if you didn’t see this coming i don’t know what to tell you.
i think the thing with harry potter - why it’s so loved, why it’s so derided, all by people who grew up reading the books - is just that. a lot of the people on sites like this who are reading it and critiquing it and analysing it are people who were kids reading these books, and grew up reading them. (mostly because we’re a large age demographic on these sorts of social media) i know i was four or five when i read them for the first time; i think they might have been the first novels i read independently like that. and i loved them! of course i did, i was four or five, and already an up-and-coming urban fantasy fan. they were full of magic, and kids who were sort of like me, and i loved them.
of course, i’m not four or five now. and neither are any of the people who grew up with the books when they were released. we’re all in our late teens and twenties, and when we look back, we’re looking back with an adult’s critical eye.
because when you’re nine years old, as i was when half-blood prince came out, or eleven, as i was when deathly hallows was released, the idea of harry going into the cave with dumbledore, or snape’s past with lily, don’t seem all that bad. after all, harry’s sixteen, and that’s way old - and snape’s past totally absolves him of any wrongdoing, right? it’s so romantic
and then we got older, and we read that series we’d loved when we’re kids, but we’re older and more critical. we look at it as adults, and see where it’s lacking. how there’s maybe five people of colour in harry’s year, how the only lgbt+ character was revealed to be so outside the books and it was never mentioned inside them, how messed up it is that harry did all this stuff and lived through so much when he was just a kid. even silly stuff - holes in the worldbuilding, little details that make no sense when you look at them twice.
now i’m twenty one and wondering why dumbledore couldn’t have put more adult wizards on harry’s case to help and protect him; why jk rowling imagines a world that seems to be white and straight and cis in its makeup. because i’m older, i understand these things a little more. and i can critique them, because why not? all media is flawed, in some way or other.
but at the same time, i’m still that four or five year old reading these books for the first time and imagining myself with harry, ron, and hermione. having magical adventures in a land far more interesting than mine.
and i think that’s what i, personally, got from harry potter. it inspired me to write my own stories, the kind of stories i want to see. and on its flaws and failings, i want to build my own worlds, building on the things that annoyed me about the worldbuilding to make my own thing.
and it’s gonna be flawed, too. in different ways. but if i can make one person feel the way i felt, sitting up past my bedtime devouring philosopher’s stone like a starving person at a banquet, it’ll all be worth it.
Or; Bi Ace Jason and
His Journey of Self-Discovery
Or; Jason is Ace
and I Am Projecting
So eventually Percy calling Jason “Superman” becomes kind of
a thing between them. Jason only lets
Percy call him that, and Percy uses it both to kind of tease Jason when he’s
being extra heroic and praetor-y, and also as an affectionate nickname for his
One year for his birthday, Percy buys him a Superman cape.
He doesn’t wear it often, but it’s big enough that he uses it as a blanket a
lot. When they hang out and play video games together, the winner gets to wear
the cape. (He’ll never admit it, but sometimes Jason will let Percy win a
little easier so that the cape will smell like sea breeze for a while after he
A few months later, he sits Percy down and tells him that he
likes boys as well as girls. Percy smiles, tells him that’s awesome! and that he does too, and hugs him. Jason hugs him
back, burying his face in Percy’s shoulder. They watch a movie that night
instead of playing video games, the Superman cape wrapped around them like a
blanket where they sit shoulder-to-shoulder on Jason’s couch.
That year, Percy gets Jason another cape for his birthday.
This one is just as big, but rather than red, it’s striped blue, purple, and
pink. The bi flag, Percy tells him, a
huge grin on his face. Then he unfurls it, and Jason sees the crudely sewn
Superman logo in the middle. Jason laughs at that, head thrown back and just so
damn happy, and Percy laughs with
him. Jason refuses to take the cape off for the rest of the day (not that it
mattered, since they spent the rest of the day bingewatching sitcoms on
Netflix, but it mattered to Jason.)
Sometime later, they’re sitting next to each other on the
couch, Percy’s legs flung across Jason’s lap, their video game controllers left
on the coffee table from their last round. The bi flag Superman cape is tied
around Jason’s shoulders since he’d been the one to blue shell Percy in the
last seconds of the race and take first place. Percy leans forward, close
enough that Jason can smell that sea breeze that just seemed to follow Percy
everywhere, and starts picking at and fidgeting with the edge of the cape. So, if you’re Superman, he begins,
nervousness wobbling his voice, is there
any chance… I could be your Lois Lane? Jason smiles at him.
Things are going well between them. Dating is fun, even if sometimes
their “dates” only consist of lighting a candle on the coffee table as they
share a $5 pizza and watch cartoons together. Really, things between them don’t
change much, they just get, well, closer. There’s more touching now, and for
the most part, Jason likes it. He likes kissing Percy. He likes kissing Percy a
lot, actually. And he likes the
touching. He likes holding Percy’s hand, and he likes cuddling with him on the
couch without fear of it being awkward. He likes when Percy comes up behind him
and wraps his arms around his middle and rests his chin on Jason’s shoulder or
presses his forehead to the back of Jason’s neck. He likes when they fall
asleep curled up together and wake up with their legs tangled and Percy’s head
resting on his chest, even if he drools, the bi flag Superman cape wrapped
around them. There’s some things he doesn’t like so much, though. It’s nothing
Percy’s done, because Percy would never do something Jason wasn’t explicitly
okay with, but it’s the thought of it
that bothers him. The thought of removing clothes and touching other places that leaves a distinct
feeling of discomfort and repulsion in the pit of his stomach.
Unsure of what to do about it or what it means, he does the
only thing he can think of and calls Piper. Surely, a daughter of Aphrodite
would know what to do. He tells her what’s been going on, and when he’s done,
she tells him that she thinks he may be asexual. When he lets out a noise of confusion,
she tells him that it would probably be best if he talked to her half-brother
Mitchell, since he actually is ace and could probably explain things better
than she could. She gives him her brother’s number, and he thanks her.
Jason steels himself for what is to come. The talk with
Mitchell had helped, and now that Jason has the proper words to put with what he’s
feeling, he decided it was time to talk to Percy about it. It’s date night,
which this time means takeout, a “clean linen” scented candle Jason had bought
on sale, and a Star Wars marathon. When Percy steps through Jason’s front door,
he greets him with a kiss and tells him he needs to talk to him before dinner.
Percy nods, then asks if everything is okay as they sit facing each other on
the couch. Jason nods, takes a deep breath, and carefully lays things out on
the table, metaphorically speaking. He tells Percy about how much he likes
being with him, but how the thought of doing… he fumbles for words… more… makes him nauseous. It’s nothing
Percy had done wrong, just that this is who he is. He’s asexual, he explains,
sex-repulsed. And he feels Percy has a right to know.
Percy has been nodding along as Jason explains things,
ending with how he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with doing anything much
beyond what they are doing currently. Okay,
Percy tells him. He’s happy with how they are now, anyway, and he loves Jason
so much that as long as Jason is happy, he will be happy, and that he’s happy
Jason’s comfortable enough to tell him and that things are perfect as they are,
I love you too,
Jason says, and pulls Percy into a tight embrace for a few moments before
pulling back and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. That kiss brakes when Percy’s
smile grows too big for it. The rest of date night goes off without a hitch,
and they fall asleep halfway through Return
of the Jedi cuddled together under both Superman capes.
When Jason’s birthday rolls around again, he’s surprised
when Percy hands him a familiar looking box. He opens it, and instead of blue,
purple, and pink, the cape he pulls out is striped with black, gray, white, and
purple. Percy’s grin is so bright Jason can’t help but smile back. He unfurls
it, and sees the Superman logo stitched into it, slightly neater than it was on
his bi flag one. He hugs Percy then, and Percy hugs him back, whispering I love you, Superman, into the junction
of Jason’s neck and shoulder. There’s a lot of kissing after that. Then, they
end up curled in the corner of the couch, legs tangled together and Percy half
on Jason’s lap. Jason has his newest cape wrapped around his shoulders, while
Percy has taken the bi flag one, and the red one lays across their laps. They
talk for hours, about everything and nothing, from some new designs Annabeth
has been coming up with to which flavor of Starburst tastes the best. Jason isn’t
sure exactly when they drift off, but the last thing he remembers is nuzzling
into Percy’s hair and being hit with that sea breeze as if he’s actually
sitting on the sand and looking out at the ocean itself, and a passing thought
about how comfortable and perfect he feels wrapped up there with Percy and all
of their capes.