Unbetitelt

Edit: Some posts may be deleted

Character writing/development:

Character Arcs

Making Character Profiles

Character Development

Comic Relief Arc

Internal Conflict

Character Voices

Creating Distinct Characters

Creating Likeable Characters

Writing Strong Female Characters

Writing POC Characters

Building Tension

Writing Grumpy x Sunshine Tropes

Writing Sexuality & Gender

Writing Manipulative Characters

Writing Mature Young Characters

Writing Disoriented but Capable Characters

Plot devices/development:

Intrigue in Storytelling

Enemies to Lovers

Alternatives to Killing Characters

Worldbuilding

Misdirection

Things to Consider Before Killing Characters

Foreshadowing

Story Structure (+ Addition)

Killing Many Characters at Once

Narrative (+ how to write):

Emphasising the Stakes

Avoid Info-Dumping

Writing Without Dialogue

1st vs. 2nd vs. 3rd Perspective

Fight Scenes (+ More)

Transitions

Pacing

Writing Prologues

Dialogue Tips

Writing War

Writing Cheating

Writing Miscommunication

Writing Unrequited Love

Writing a Slow Burn Btwn Introverts

Writing Admiration Without Attraction

Writing Dual POVs

Writing Unreliable Narrators

Naturally Conveying Character Age

Avoiding Repetition of "I" in 1st Person

Worldbuilding:

Worldbuilding: Questions to Consider

Creating Laws/Rules in Fantasy Worlds

Book writing:

Connected vs. Stand-Alone Series

A & B Stories

Parts of a Book (Chapters, Scenes, Arcs, Story Beats)

Writer resources:

Writing YouTube Channels, Podcasts, & Blogs

Online Writing Resources

Outlining/Writing/Editing Software

Translation Software for Writing

Writer help:

Losing Passion/Burnout

Overcoming Writer's Block

Fantasy terms:

How To Name Fantasy Races (Step-by-Step)

Naming Elemental Races

Naming Fire-Related Races

How To Name Fantasy Places

Ask games:

Character Ask Game #1

Character Ask Game #2

Character Ask Game #3

Miscellaneous:

Writing Tips

Writing Fantasy

Miscommunication Prompts

You try to pull the blanket off of yourself, and you realize that, it too, is made of chocolate. You try to shake it off, and step out of bed. Your carpet feels strangely spongy. You look down, only to realize it’s actually cake. Lovingly baked, and smelling of sweet fruit. You grab a piece, and cautiously take a bite. It is one of the most delicious cakes you have ever eaten.

You get up, confused, and exit your room to see if the rest of your house is like this. The door handle melts in your hand as you hold onto it, and covers it with dark chocolate carefully painted gold. The rest of the carpet on the floor is still cake, the guardrails on the stairs leading down are tempered chocolate, the tiles on the floor are the same, the windows are sugar glass, everything is edible.

You run outside, knocking over the lovingly crafted chocolate front door in a panic.

You realize, in horror, that your house was not an exception. The bushes, the grass, the asphalt on the road, the trees, birds, the world itself, is chocolate.

While the first two aren’t from any specific fics that I’ve read I will happily share the last two

Celine x Cindy: Two’s Company(But They Want a Crowd) by Tosslotsofsauce

note: I (the owner of this blog and maker of wheels) am not into warrior cats! I just thought this would be fun to make

Some said I saved the world. That may be, but it cost me dearly.

The wizard that threatened our land was evil, but the gods thought to redeem him, use his power for good.

I think if he had not hurt my wife that faithful day he might be alive today.

But he nearly killed her, and I saw red.

I opened his body from his navel to his throat and watched him die. My god denounced me. He took my power away.

They said I should repent, but I couldn't. I did not deserve to call myself a servant of justice anymore.

I took my wife and we went away. In a village at the edge of the land we settled. We adopted children, and they had children of their own.

I tended the farm, my wife worked as a healer.

It was a peaceful life. Now, nearly fifty years later, my wife is dead, our children live their own lives...and I am still here, tending my fields.

I am 71 years old, my bones ache and creak with every movement. Still, I think I am in good shop for being a great grandmother.

That will help, because the goblins stir in the woods. A number of villages have been attacked in recent weeks.

Our elder (5 years younger than me and an insufferable fool) wants to pay tribute to save the village. Idiot. I know what goblins do. I go into the basement and open my old chest. Everything is still there. The armour, the shield, the sword.

I take sword and shield, ignoring the heavy armour.

As I climb back down Armin stands at the foot of the ladder, his arms crossed.

"what exactly do you think you are doing, gran?"

I stand straight and put on the shield. "What needs to be done. This fool is going to open our gates for our butchers, and someone has to do something. You should take your family and hide in the caves. I will protect who I can and meet you there."

He looks at me for a few seconds, then he swallows the tears that form in his eyes. "No, you won't. And you know it. Is this your way of following her?"

I shake my head, then hesitate. "Maybe. But I am old, I lived my life, and I am so tired. Let me go on my own terms. Please."

He watches me carefully, then nods abruptly. He opened his mouth to say something as a scream pierced the quiet.

"They're here. Go, take as many as you can and run for the caves. I will take out as many as I can" "but..." "GO!"

He flinched and takes a step back. I turn towards the front door and draw my sword.

Suddenly time seems to stop, and a familiar power rises within my soul.

No...I never repented...why is he

"Hello Maya." That's not him...this voice sounds...younger, somehow.

"who are you? Why did you chose me? I'm old and frail and can not worship you or bring glory in your name."

I hear him chuckle. "Oh, you do worship me with every breathe you take. You praise me every morning. Every moment of your life brought me glory. You even lead others to pray to me. After all, what else is there for you than

when zoey wakes, she’s expecting to see mira hovering over her, rumi checking her vitals just one more time, and a mountain of snacks waiting for her. its standard practice at this point for when zoey is injured, after all.

she sees none of that.

instead, her children all sit there, weeping silently.

(zoey’s a smart woman. she always has been.

but this isn’t right.)

“where?”

they all look up in surprise.

and then their faces crumble. it’s all the answer zoey needs.

the heart monitor picks up.

“no,” she says, angry and indignant and pleading with the universe to see reason, “that can’t-i can’t be-it was never supposed to be me!”

the heart monitor beeps even faster.

her children watch her, bewildered and fearful. “what?” jihae asks.

“it wasn’t supposed to be me!” zoey shouts. she can’t breathe. the heart monitor is going insane. “i wasnt supposed to be the last one!”

hani takes a shuddering breath. “who was?”

zoey doesnt answer.

the heart monitor beeps so fast now, it almost sounds like a flatline.

it may as well be.

the moment she’s well enough to move to her (it used to be theirs) own bed, she never leaves it.

(they take the iv out and seal her fate.)

it’s not for lack of trying on her children’s part. they beg her, plead with her to leave the bed, have some food, drink some tea or water, get some sun.

all to no avail.

any attempt to get closer to her is met with glaring eyes and still-strong swats to get away. leave her alone.

they figure she just needs more time.

days pass.

it starts to smell awful in there.

the day before the funeral, they each ask her if she’s going to come.

“you should,” aeri insists.

“it might bring you closure,” taeyong reassures.

“they would want you there,” miyeong says.

“it’s the least you could do,” jihae grumbles, before her face crumples. “sorry, that’s not what i meant.”

“please,” hani sobs, “just please leave this bed. i just need you to show me you have any life left in you after all this. please, mom.”

(oh, hani…)

she doesn’t respond.

the next day, they send taeyong in (“who could be that mad at taeyong?”) to go check on her.

he stumbles out of the room, and promptly vomits.

they hear his retching from down the hall.

“i know it smells bad in there, tae,” miyeong winces, “but is it really that-”

“she’s dead,” taeyong chokes out. his sisters freeze.

“what?” aeri asks, breathless.

taeyong sobs, shaking his head and retching again. “dead! she’s dead!”

the smell. it was rot. decay.

their mother, it seems, decided that withering away in the bed she’d spent the last decade or so sleeping in with her wives was a far more preferable fate than spending anymore time without them.

(the funeral is postponed. their three mothers are buried together.

She looked at my files and said “So…what are your plans?”

“My plans?” I asked.

“Yes. You’re a dishwasher. You don’t want to do that forever, do you?”

“Maybe not, but I’m happy with it right now. It pays surprisingly well, I never have to work weekends or overtime, and it’s the sort of job I don’t have to bring with me home mentally. It frees up a lot of time to do the things I like”

“Like what?”

“Hobbies, my family, friends, my pets. I don’t want to hate my job but I don’t want it to be my whole life either, eating away at the things that give my life meaning”

She looked at me for a few seconds then said “You know…the older I get I understand that mindset more and more”

And then she went into a very long, very personal rant about how she has started feeling like she wasted her life on high demand jobs and how taxing and mentally draining her current job is because she has to make huge decisions that can ruin people’s lives and how do you not take that home with you? She loved drawing too but she hadn’t picked up a pen in years and-

So the conversation went from “Your life must be a bit shit with a job like that” to “Oh my god my job is shit and I’ve wasted my life on it!”

• Walked: Ambled, Ambulated, Hiked, Marched, Perambulated, Plodded, Paraded, Sauntered, Strolled, Stepped, Strode, Traipsed, Trekked, Treaded

• Ran: Bounded, Barreled, Cantered, Careened, Dashed, Hastened, Hurled, Hurried, Galloped, Jogged, Scampered, Sprinted, Trotted

• Said: Aforementioned, Articulated, Announced, Argued, Blurted, Boasted, Concluded, Countered, Commended, Chirped, Commented, Declared, Discussed, Mouthed, Muttered, Murmured, Mumbled, Proclaimed, Spoken, Told

• Laughed: Broke up, Burst into, Cackled, Cracked up, Chortled, Chuckled, Giggled, Guffawed, Grinned, Hee-hawed, Simpered, Snickered, Snorted, Sneered, Sniggered, Smirked, Tittered, Twittered

• Asked: Catechized, Challenged, Countered, Demanded, Grilled, Inquired, Interrogated, Queried, Questioned, Quizzed, Requested, Surveyed

• Beautiful: Attractive, Appealing, Alluring, Bonny, Comely, Delightful, Gorgeous, Good-looking, Glamorous, Fetching, Fascinating, Picturesque, Ravishing, Resplendent, Stunning, Splendid

• Mad: Angered, Angry, Ballistic, Choleric, Foaming, Fuming, Furious, Hopping, Hot, Incensed, Infuriated, Indignant, Inflamed, Irate, Livid, Outraged, Roiled up, Ticked

• Horrible: Appalling, Atrocious, Awful, Alarming, Blood-curdling, Dire, Dreadful, Fearful, Frightening, Frightful, Formidable, Ghastly, Gut-wrenching, Grotesque, Gruesome, Hideous, Horrendous, Horrifying, Horrific, Lurid, Loathsome, Macabre, Monstrous, Nightmarish, Nauseating, Obscene, Offensive, Repugnant, Repulsive, Revolting, Shocking, Sickening, Terrible, Unspeakable

• Happy: Blithe, Blissful, Buoyant, Cheerful, Delighted, Glad, Gladsome, Gleeful, Gratified, Joyful, Joyous, Jovial, Lighthearted, Mirthful, Pleased, Satisfied, Sunny, Upbeat

First Edgar and Simon both posted this to their separate instagram accounts.

Then Simon posted this a few months later. If you don’t know the song he attached to it, look it up. It’s very clear Simon chose it intentionally.

There’s no way to predict what it’s going to be about but I’ve heard whispers that it might lean more towards drama than their other works so I wouldn’t be surprised if it deals with mental health.

Both Simon and Nick have been very open about struggling with depression and trying to slowly kill themselves, Simon with alcohol and Nick with food, due to feeling isolated (Simon’s depression is more of a hormonal disorder while Nicks’s is a reaction to trauma and PTSD) which was why Gary was a depressed and suicidal alcoholic in The World’s End.

They’ve also been very open about their queerplatonic relationship that’s far deeper and more physical than a regular friendship.

By now most people know about them sharing a one-person bed for nine months out of necessity when they were young and they occasionally sleep and cuddle in bed for comfort even to this day. In his memoir Nick mentions several times that they like holding hands when they’re scared (like when a visit to a strip club with Tarantino turned dangerous or when they went ghost hunting together) or when they’re feeling cuddly but are out in polite society. When Nick’s mom died he collapsed on the floor of his hotel room crying and screaming for Simon who rushed in to hold him and it didn’t even occur to them that Nick was naked the whole time until afterwards. None of this ever bothered Simon’s wife because she trusted Simon wasn’t cheating on her with Nick, but Nick’s wife demanded they stop sharing beds after her and Nick got married. They did out of respect for her (though Simon visited Nick the night before the wedding so they could sleep together one last time) but the marriage only lasted five years and they got right back to it.

But they also had to acknowledge that while they’re each other’s biggest comfort they haven’t always been the best for each other when it came to coping with their mental health. They had to get better separately to be happy and healthy together later.

Simon especially has talked about how being part of the Mission Impossible franchise saved him because it surrounded him with people who knew how to help him overcome his alcohol addiction.

Seeing how both Simon and Nick likes to play roles that are adjacent to their own situations and Edgar very much encourages them to normalize talking about mental health as well as be ambassadors for non-sexual male intimacy I wouldn’t be surprised if they lean into that considering the post Simon made. Everything around that is a complete mystery tho.