Prompt #14: “Okay…so I kissed you get a girl off my back but it turned out I can’t stop thinking about you”
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters. I do not own any gifs, images or songs that show up.
Summary: Your a published author that enjoys writing in cafes and using a failed relationship as inspiration for your series you get writers block. Until a stranger kisses you, and like the prince kissing the princess to magically wake her up…he woke your writer up.
You were an author with a series that was a bestseller. If you were being honest it was about your ex whom made you feel like shit without even trying. He wasn’t abusive but you just didn’t get each other like you should have. One of the things he had a problem with was your height. You weren’t short or very tall but once you put a good pair of heels you were about the height of him. It didn’t make him feel like a man, he believed men were to be taller and protective over their girls. You didn’t agree and you loved your heels. For eight months you were in pain the breakup.
Now you were pouring that pain into a book series that was about a girl that goes through a break up. All she ever had was that relationship that the protagonist poured everything into only to find out he wasn’t the man he said he was. You hummed leaning back cracking your stiffened fingers not knowing what to write next. You glanced at your old coffee before getting up to go get another coffee.
You had better luck writing in public, especially cafes because you could watch how couples acted with each other and use it. Plus the coffee at your usual one was the best and cheap. You bit your lip deciding if you would try a little kind this time.
“hmph!” Your surprised sound was muffled by lips of a stranger. You hadn’t been kissed in a while and if you were honest you lived vicariously through your main character.
That said you wrapped your arms around the tall man’s neck pushing herself onto your tippy toes. You poured your frustration at the writers block that just hit into the kiss. Imagine if your mother saw this happening! She’d have heart attack before clapping in excitement; she was something else.
The man pulled back slowly shorting after you bit his lip. You both were breathing heavily.
“I’m not complaining but what was that?” You questioned the man. He gulped before blinking his eyes.
“A kiss.” He retorted chuckling before he glanced over to see whoever was over where he came from, “I’m late. Thank you for the kiss!”
With that your mystery man was out of the shop and you blinked in shock before grinning. That writers block was gone and you had an idea for your protagonist. Maybe you should kiss strangers more often.
I’ve been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
Sam was in the cafe the next couple of days watching for the girl that helped him. It was on the third day when he was about to give up when she walked into the cafe carrying a computer bag. He gulped as she stood in line. Taking the time he looked to the window where he saw his reflection, he fixed his hair and smiled checking for any food. He breathed into his hand and smelt it to see if his breath was gross or not. Satisfied he looked over to see you smirking at him.
You had your coffee in hand before you retreated to the table you were at the last time he saw you. You had opened your computer when you heard a man clear his voice.
“Okay, so I kissed you to get a girl off my back but it turns out I can’t stop thinking about you.” He said staring at you.
“Sit down. I’m Y/N Y/L/M.” You smiled at the man. He sat and you got into a conversation about how you were a published author. He blushed when you told him he had helped finish the story.
“I’m Sam.” He grinned looking into your gorgeous eyes.
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wAit i’m gonna stop rambling about my life and start rambling about something else
did any other pmd fans think that psmd wasn’t that great compared to the other pmd games
i need to replay it to see if i still feel like this but… why were my starters so fuckin weak by the end of the game i was getting destroyed by ordinary dungeon pokemon and i ended up just using wands and items like that to run away from everything bc that was the only way i could survive
like pmd2 is considered a pretty tough game to a lot of people but i never had that problem in that game, usually all of my deaths were from bosses or really bad luck, it never felt like i was literally just too weak
but in psmd it literally sucks to play as your own characters like wtf
I was nosing back through your books tag, and was wondering if any other novels had ever since joined your One Rubbish Person Solves A Million Impossible Problems rec list after Goblin Emperor and The Martian?
Not many, alas! The entire Vorkosigan series is this trope and also incredible, but it is not exactly a surprising rec. Anyone got any to add?
MY BINDERS CAME IN THE MAIL OMG!!! I had to try it immediately and what a relief! It was not difficult at all to breath in than the other ones I have where I’ve actually had problems breathing in them. These are absolutely amazing and I got shocked seeing how much they flatten your chest too, without it even being uncomfortable! I’m super happy and pleased with them. The grey one is a binder I ordered from AliExpress (aka not safe to use), I have had troubles breathing properly in it and pains. The gc2b binder feels amazing to breath in and is so comfortable!
You always thought that dilemmas were hard, but that was until you ran into once that concerned a potions lesson, incomplete homework and Yixing all mixed into one. Now, the other problems you had seemed peachy.
It had started with a blank parchment on incomplete homework staring at you in the great hall during breakfast time. The essay had to be at least two pages long, (you didn’t even know that the potion was that you had to write about) and your annoying yet incredibly smart best friend Suho was not willing to let you copy his.
Shouldn’t have left it until the morning before the lesson, he had told you the words you already knew.
Needless to say, as time ticked on you were getting nervous, Severus Snape was not a teacher you liked to cross. So you decided to take a puking pasty which would get you away from the lesson.
Aside from the vile vomiting in the girls toilets for at least half an hour, it had been worth it, because you had been excused from the lesson (and had been given an extra two nights to get the work done you had been putting off.).
But of course, all good lies come with a consequence.
“Are you sure you’re alright, (y/n) I’m worried about you, you never get sick like this…” Yixing told her. His worry was obvious from his expression.
“Yeah she doesn’t does she, seems a little coincidental, don’t you think. Especially since you didn’t get that potions homework done.” Suho gave you a pointed look as the three of you sat in the Gryffindor common room that evening. You shuffled.
“I think I just ate too much this morning, I’m fine though.”
“Are you sure? I mean, if you didn’t get your work done then were you not feeling well last night either? Do you want me to do it for you?”
Suho snorted a laugh at the glint of guilt that was obvious in your eye. He stood up nodding at you both, in a way that said I’m going to bed now, before exiting silently.
“It’s fine Yixing, I’ll do it.” You smile at him and he nods, unsure.
“Okay. If you say so. Are you still feeling cold?”
“A little, but I think that’s just because the windows open-”
Yixing stood up instantly and shut the window before occupying the seat next to you. He pulled off his jacket and put it around you. A sudden wash of his scent surrounded you, making you blush, but if that wasn’t enough he leaned back and pulled you into his chest.
“I’m not sick, I ate a puking pasty to get out of potions because I didn’t do my homework.” The words flowed from your mouth before you could stop them, guilt overriding you. He was so sweet, so kind and considerate and your venomous lies didn’t deserve it.
“It’s okay, it was worth it.”
“This… I get to cuddle you, so I’m happy.”
“Yixing shut up, you’re too sweet it hurts my heart.”
….but I’m going to unfollow all the blog about once upon a time that I have in my following list…
I’m sorry it has to come to this but I’m sick and tired of all the ship wars in the fandom…and the people who count every single second of screetime of their favorite characters….this is not the correct way to live in a fandom…believe me I was and am in a lot of them and I’ve never had this kind of problems in the other ones…
It’s a friendship story about two very different people who come together
through a mutual love of the Beatles. Through their love of music, they
end up saving each other from problems they didn’t know they had. One is a poor 25-30ish year old mortician with a ~secret~ and the other is an 8 year old from a very rich family who doesn’t know she’s spoiled.
4. describe your favorite character or characters
Morgan the Mortician. He’s actually the character I get my name from! He’s a down-on-his-luck guy that doesn’t exactly enjoy what he’s doing but doesn’t have a choice in the matter and is forced to do the work to survive. He’s kind and gentle but also very anxious/paranoid about anything having to do with his ~secret~. He’s perfectly fine with his financial situation, believing that there’s more to life than money. He loves all things lemon-flavored and plays the guitar fairly well.
10. what song sums up your current work the best?
Ha ha! The whole book is inspired by the Beatles so basically any song of theirs. But I guess if I’m forced to pick one… I’d say “Two of Us”
Oh wah-wah, I'm a wanted criminal who has killed other human beings but no one loves me! Grow up. If you had a problem with everyone why don't you just man up and talk about it instead of being a dickhole?
Gavin: You aren’t one to talk about having a problem, princess. I have been talking about it. I’m talking to all 115 of you right fucking now. If you have a problem with my coping, why don’t you come off of anon and take me head on?
Gavin: Actually, don’t. That would make tracking you down so much easier. See, surprisingly enough, I know who you are. I know what you are. You’re a monster and you want to hurt me.
Gavin: That isn’t going to work for me, princess. Every time you send in an ask I’m one step closer to this gun in your pretty little face.Yeah, i’ve killed other people, and yeah, I’ve been a whiny little bitch. But you and me, we aren’t much different. You’ve been through hard times before, haven’t you?
Gavin: I suppose the only thing left to do is climb out of the rut we are both in and get the fuck over ourselves. So, i’ll give you two options. You can stay hidden under your silly little anon and actually help me find my best god damn friend, or you can keep on this path you’re getting into and eventually find this sorry excuse of a person in front of you with a gun.
(Note from Pear: This image is transparent; to view it larger, right click and choose “open in new tab.” You are free to download and use it for your own.)
Last year for NaNo prep in October, I wrote a post here about my 10-point model I use for outlining. I remade the graphic today to clean up some of the problems the other one had, which of course led me back into thinking about why I use it. The other post gets into, very briefly, what each of these boxes are, what they mean, what should go in them, so I’m not going to rehash that unless someone wants me to. Rather, it got me thinking about “typical narrative arcs”–you know, that diagram we’ve all seen in school–hang on–
that one. That which is touted by every school I’ve ever attended (and I moved a lot, so I’ve been through a whole bunch of different curriculum) as being the quintessential narrative-plotting diagram. It made me wonder why I’ve never done well with this diagram when it’s considered so basic that it’s taught to 11-year-olds. Plotting on one of these has never worked for me. A teacher once gave us the 10-point model in creative writing and said maybe it would help us with our work, and sure enough, I’ve never looked back. There is, however, one crucial difference between these narrative structures that I’ve been thinking about recently:
Inciting Incident vs Point of No Return
The inciting incident that’s taught in writing and literature classes is easily understood as “the event that starts it all.” Honestly, that’s just a dictionary definition. Inciting means “to prompt action”–to get the ball rolling, if you will. An incident is an event; simple as that.
We are taught to pay close attention to developing our inciting incident, make sure it’s done in a compelling way that shows as much of the worldly and cultural influences at work within your main plot line.
What isn’t taught as often is The Point of No Return. Simply put, it’s the moment when there is no one else who can go through the plot (achieve the goal, complete the thing, obtain the whats-it, find the place, do the thing with the people). It’s not just when things get rolling, but the why couldn’t somebody else do this that makes your story. If anybody could do it, why wasn’t it already done? What is it that makes this so important to your main character that they must be the one to set out on the quest (or whatever)? What happens that makes this personal? What means the main character can’t just sit back? What makes it so there is no return for them? They must move forward–why?
The point of no return occurs after the inciting incident, or it may be the same event. Usually they’re at different points. If you want to think about it in terms of what’s up there on the 10-point model, think of that first Complication after Point A as where the inciting incident should go. That complication–that inciting incident–doesn’t necessarily mean that your main character is invested in this plot, yet. Even if they’ve committed to doing the thing, at the inciting incident, they could still back out. It’s the point of no return that keeps them there and keeps them fighting.
We’re often so caught up in thinking about the climax, the moment of highest intensity, when all the worst things are going down, that we forget how it all begins. It begins with that inciting incident, but the point of no return is what makes the story belong to the main character. If there is no point of no return, there’s no reason someone else couldn’t step in and do the thing. There’s a reason your main character is your main character and not someone else, so make sure they have a reason to stay, or a reason they can’t go back.
Jensen stepped through his front door dropping his bag onto the floor looked around himself. He was at last at home. It had been a long six months in Canada but finally he was able to sleep in his own bed next to his wife. There was just one problem, every other time he had come home from Canada there had been the patter of tiny feet running to him, and the calling if his name. A wife that would normally, come bouncing out to greet him with a kiss wasn’t there. “(Y/N)?” He called out, the feeling of panic was beginning to rise in his chest. He darted through the house into the living room. There was no one there, he checked the kitchen and then the bedrooms. He dashed between the study and games room, the play room. Noone was in the house, not even the dogs where there. Jensen went to the back yard, looking over to the play set he and Jared had put up a year or so ago. Nothing. “(Y/N)?” He pulled out his phone and started dialling your number. A phone was ringing somewhere in the house. Jensen’s breathing was starting to get manic as a million things went through his mind. Then just as he was about to fall apart he heard the front door click open, two dogs and tiny feet came bounding in. “Daddy!” Dean Shouted and went running over to his father. Jensen dropped to his knees and grabbed the now five year old boy into his arms. “Hey buddy! Where have you been?” “We went to the park, and the market!” He giggled. Jensen looked up to you walking into the room, you were holding onto a small baby and juggling with a few bags. He fell in love with you all over again in that moment. Standing up he rushed over to you grabbing the bags from your arms and quickly taking them to the kitchen where he and Dean put the food away. Once that was done he came back to the living room finding you swaying yourself side to side as the baby cried. “Hey, let me have a go.” You gladly handed the baby over to him and slumped on to the sofa to take your shoes off. “Hey little girl, daddy’s home now. Come on sweetheart you gotta go to sleep.” She had all but stopped crying and start gurgling happy noises up at him as he bounced her. “She does love her daddy.” You said from your seated position. “He loves her as well. More than she’ll ever know.” He bent forward and kissed her forehead. “Daddy, Bronwyn has been teething! She keeps trying to eat my fingers!” Dean laughed climbing up on to the sofa and pulling at Jensen’s arm so he could see his little sister. “Oh does she, well maybe if you didn’t get chocolate all over your hands she wouldn’t want to eat them.” He laughed at his son. It didn’t take long for the small girl to fall asleep and Jensen laid her down in the bouncy chair. Dean had gone off to the play room and finally Jensen was able to sit down with you. His arm wound around your shoulders and you turned to look at him. “Hi.” He whispered with a smile. “Welcome home.” You whispered back, leaning in to press your lips to his. “I’m so glad you’re home.” “I’m glad to be here. I know it’s been tough, baby, but I’m back for a bit.” You kissed him again then pulled back, resting your hand on his chest. “So Dean is on Summer holiday at the moment, we were talking and we think it would be a good idea if we came to the conventions with you this year.” Jensen’s smile got impossibly wider and he let out a breath of amusement. “That would be amazing! Can you guys really do it?” “Yeah, I got Bronwyn her passport last week, and I spoke to Singer. Everything is planned.” “Do you know how much I love you?” “Probably about how much I love you.” You kissed again, his hand coming up to curve around your jaw line. “Hey, you looked scared when we came in, what was wrong?” You asked. Jensen looked down a little embarrassed. “You weren’t here, you’ve never not been here when I got home and I was…I got worried.” He admitted. “I’m so sorry, we tried to get back here on time but the dogs were being brats and the traffic-” He cut you off mid sentence. “Its okay. It’s been years I should be over it by now.” You smiled at him, it was one of those smiles that Jensen had come to rely on. A smile that told him he was perfect, that nothing he could do would change the way you saw him. It was a smile full of love and protection, a smile that meant the world to him. “I love you.” He said, and the words felt right every time he said them. “I love you too.” Those ones sounded even better. Jensen was really happy again. He was safe, he had the best wife he could ask for, who was safe. Two beautiful children, who made his heart grow everytime he looked at them and they were safe. The man who had become a brother to him lived just up the road with his amazing family and they were safe. His best friend, yeah he lived in a different state, but him and his crazy family were safe. That was all he wanted, was for his world to be safe. Scars still marked his left arm, the memories of physical and mental pain still drifted into his dreams at night. But really everything was right.
The two of you put Dean to bed together that evening and sat beside the cot with Bronwyn asleep in. You rested your head on his shoulder for a moment before gesturing for him to come back down stairs with you as you lifted the baby monitor off it’s stand. Jensen followed you down stairs, he went to the living room whilst you went to the kitchen. You grabbed a beer for him and soda for yourself before moving out of the room. You saw your husband first standing in the middle of the room, his back was rigid and he was staring at the TV screen. Your eyes wondered over to the moving pictures, it was the news channel and a woman was standing outside a prison in Canada. Her blonde hair was whipping around her face as she spoke. You couldn’t hear what she was saying but you could read the headlines running along the bottom of the screen.
WOMAN KNOWN AS ANAHERA CHARGED WITH MULTIPLE MURDERS AND BLACKMAIL HAS ESCAPED FROM JAIL IN TORONTO! ALL EFFORTS ARE BEING MADE TO LOCATE HER
You dropped the two bottles in your hand to the ground, your chest felt like it was going to explode. Jensen turned when he herd the glass smash and came rushing over to you. He grabbed you just as your knees buckled beneath you and you both fell to the ground. “It’s all right baby, you’re okay.” He said to you. “No, it’s not all right. she’s going to hurt my babies! Jensen I can’t do this again.” Tears were already streaming down your face as he rocked you. Jensen couldn’t help it he knew how scared you were because he was as well and tears fell from his eyes. He didn’t see the woman who stood at the patio doors looking in on him and his wife. He didn’t see as she opened the door. He didn’t see as she raised a gun.
Oh god I’m sorry but that’s it that’s the end of the story. Sorry. Let me know what you thought here