#descriptive writing

𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝟐 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 🤍

1. Why are they enemies? It’s usually not because they genuinely hate each other, but because they are expected to. They are enemies by CIRCUMSTANCE. Opposing sides of a war, rivals in the industry, academic rivals, etc etc.

2. Do NOT make them flirt first thing! I’m surprised by how many times I’ve seen this in books and fics. I believe that if you make them flirt, it doesn’t actually reflect the underlying tension and history of the characters. Instead, try and show their rivalry first, then slowly unravel their true emotions.

3. Soft moments should be rare, not constant. If you write them to have plenty of fluffy, vulnerable moments, it won’t hit as hard when you actually get to the “lovers” part. You don’t want the readers to have a straight face with those scenes—you want them to giggle and pray for the next one.

1. Build-up: before the confession, there should be some sort of conflict that can heavily impact the characters’ current relationship (or situationship 😼 ooh..)

2. inside look into one character’s thoughts: how are they feeling? How do they want to resolve it? Do they have any regrets?

3. Keep readers on the edge of their seat: keep it high stakes (e.g,losing contact, or implying the fact their love is doomed when it really isn’t)

1. Try to avoid using the same terms over and over again

When writing a kiss, it can be hard to find the right words. When stuck, read scenes from actual published authors, or even fanfics (I find most fanfics sometimes have better writing). You can also look up adjectives or verbs that can go with the specific atmosphere you’re going for.

2. Warn your readers of any possible triggers

This post was sort of intended for a romantic, consensual kiss, but I still felt the need to add this. If it is a non consensual kiss, or if there are any sort of violent themes, add a warning at the beginning of your book.

3. Focus on the sensory more than actually telling the reader the act

Don’t say “they kissed.”, unless you are doing it stylistically. Focus on the way the lips feel, the taste, the air around them, the emotion… etc etc

4. The context of the kiss should match the way you describe it

A goodbye kiss should not read as an excited, “yay!” type of kiss. This one is pretty self explanatory, but it’s easy to miss

5. Aftermath

chinatown

a combined table set up for 9 persons in a niche of the restaurant, situated right by the windows, right along the five foot way, right along a busy vehicular road

stepping in the restaurant the concept was pretty on point. the seat we got was arguably the best as it was the main source of natural light and external view the entire restaurant got. the light let in through the windows was perfectly filtered without the heat of the midday sun, all thanks to the external sheltered walkway embedded as part of the building footprint from the earlier days

the walls were covered in decorative bricks (not printed ones), neo-traditional artworks, while the exposed intumescent painted ceilings were prefaced with traditional weaves and textiles hanging from a nice timber-steel frame system

all the tables are centred by a large dried bouquet of red pussy willows dressed in red paper ribbons, while each table is adorned with characteristic clay and glazed cutlery

a jazzy shanghai-esque album of old chinese songs play in a loop through the ceiling speakers together with the shaking of cocktails at the bar

the dishes were served in a timely, closely-paced sequence. claypot rice, cabbage stir fried with smoked meat, chicken dices with dried chili, seafood steamed egg, long beans stir friend with squid… spread across the entire length of the tables we occupied

bowls were passed back and forth so that those who sat at the ends could eat every dish ordered, requests were made over and across the spread

the bouts of “here’s your food” and “may i have more tea?” flashed in tandem with the sudden 3-second darkening of the space as double decked buses and large lorries drove past, effectively blocking out the natural daylight that illuminated our little lunch niche

soon the clattering and chiming of chopsticks against the pottery, the burring of wind from the two mechanical wall fans, and the occasional flickering of light matched the chaos and busyness of the roads outside in chinatown

Exhaustion is my first memory.

How it rolled off of me in waves as the car rolled across the endless, dismal grey of tarmac roads. The sudden slam of breaks, a sharp contrast to the earlier dozes that had overcome me, and forcing me back to confront reality. The sickly yellow road sign which displayed, in bold black letters, ‘stop’, perched upon the right curve of the street. The copper coloured car as it rushed away. Decaying wired fences that bordered properties, their rust reflecting the very questions that spun through my mind.

Oh, why am I here still?

The tall, blank houses, all a dizzying repetition of the last. All standing obnoxious among their vast surroundings of browning grass, suffering survival on the daily. All proud of the same achievements in conforming to worship yet another lifeless, dystopian sunrise.

Don’t be different.

The driveway in which we would eventually approach, synonymous with the rest had it not been for the abrupt pause of the engine. The drag through a doorway, to be greeted with the low hum of the dryer downstairs, the sweetness of sugar cookies invading my tongue, rooms adorned with framed photographs and family trees I possessed no former recollection of.

This place will never be home.

The bookshops. Looming shelves scattered with books still untouched by the curse of curious hands, only begging me to show them the world beyond these restricted walls. The animals. Crabs confined to limited lives among soulless tanks, gazed at by passer-by, grasped without mercy from their singular haven. A final sight will be the sickly glare of an artificial light. And the sun, they will think, ‘how blessed am I now to speak with the sun at last?’ Not quite wilderness, but with the wild wish to be free.

Oh, to be free.

Then, the forest. A second drag down the endless, unsettling smooth streets, relentlessly serenaded by albums of foreign poetry strung out to form songs upon the radio.

The geese who claimed homes among roundabouts, their flocks forced into a cage surrounded only by the rattle of what lay beyond. A truck, or ten. This area an alluring illusion to find solace in, maybe we needed it here.

The deer who roamed the woods, scouting out any sign of unnatural activity, unnatural predators.

Us.

Though, the way they appeared to stare with curiosity rather than fear, proved only that they were not aware. Not aware of the tags mutilating the soft hazel of their ears, the numbers for documents that would be disposed of the following year as if they were but a distant haze of a dream, the spring sunrise that would be their final to traipse through trees and listen to the song of streams stumbling over rocks and slumber beneath the stars and moon and sun all in some precious last second of serenity.

And the heavens.

Will they still have woodlands to wander in heaven? I wonder.

The city. I feel lost upon my first minute of arrival. The buildings shine with reflections of sunlight, soaring to the sky as if they were birds competing with one another to reach the clouds. Each road was a replica, though, I think I may have mentioned that. Outskirts occupied with overflowing bins, defeated fences, wilting grass that looked as though it hadn’t felt rain in no less than four months.

But at night I was blinded.

By that haze of seductive shop lights, robbing nonsensical amounts of banknotes from my grasp, reminding me of home if only as a fleeting memory. I recall watching through wide windows of glass during the train ride back, observing how the city stole the stars from the sky and replaced them with that saturated artificial glow.

Urbanised, I suppose.

And that was the last of it. Bags stuffed with items both young and old, goodbyes exchanged on a dreary morning at 5, my eyes still weary with the recent remnants of sleep. White noise from an engine once again, though this time with the promise of familiarity on the other side.

Of home.

Years flew past without concern or even thought of the future. I lived worry and adrenaline among my own world, had no need to think of it within another environment. At long last, as if time decided she was bored of toying with me like this, autumn turned wildlife dim and thick coverages of cloud sealed the sky from sight. November ‘24. Once again I met with them, once again I remembered.

But it was different.

The questions, the first queries - or were they perhaps exclamations? - released into the frantic airport atmosphere. Only after a brisk greeting left our mouths had they escaped in an air of exhausted frustration met with empathy and maybe the first blossoming of guilt. The disappointment of their democracy.

He promised us freedom though we are but caged birds, and he is only clipping our wings.

Years tumbled by yet again and now we are here. Now, as I spend my mornings smudging concealer across my eye bags I am met with the awareness that they are simply a small aspect of what I truly conceal, as I hear the endless and unwavering insults and oppression that I myself parrot along with others, as I lose my own blood donating popular criticism of them to the society around me. As my radio greets me with reminders of gunshots and air strikes and schools and saviours and 8 year olds turned to angels all within a singular, sickening sentence. I envy the others. Despite my alleged freedom I am anything but, with the weight of state and not nation upon my shoulders. I suppose I really am a caged bird watching wistfully as they soar with bliss into a warm summer sky, and I perch here instead.

I wish for the day that I can be proud, the day that I can be absolutely, in every way free.

Dread is my current reality.

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Originally posted on ao3 cause I forgot this place existed lol.

Sometimes while I role-play, I love to get descriptive and super experimental with my works, sooo heres a few examples of how I roleplay :3

It’s mostly the one’s I enjoy, but it’ll be dialogue and descriptive as-well It’s mostly moomin rp