random-writing-shit

[random-writing-shit]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

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[random-writing-shit]

how to write creepy stories

over describe things

under describe things

short sentences in rapid succession build tension

single sentence paragraphs build dread

uncanny valley = things that aren't normal almost getting it right

third person limited view

limited expressions

rot, mold, damage, age, static, flickering, espsecially in places it shouldn't be

limited sights for your mc - blindness, darkness, fog

being alone - the more people there are, the less scary it is

intimate knowledge, but only on one side

your reader's imagination will scare them more than anything you could ever write. you don't have to offer a perfectly concrete explanation for everything at the end. in fact, doing so may detract from your story.

[random-writing-shit]

rb if you vote :))

i fucking give up

[random-writing-shit]

i fucking give up

[random-writing-shit]

ao3 link!

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Everything.

Keefe felt paralyzed as his heart beat faster than a mad horse, while his ankle felt like the hottest flames of hell due to him spraining it a mere 15 minutes ago.

Screaming would be useless as he were in an abandoned wing, consequently leaving the only voice to reply being his own from an echo. 

Screaming would, additionally, cause him a quicker death, which was the opposite of what the young prince wanted. 

Either way, he couldn’t; his fear stopped him.

For months, raiders had been stealing and attacking the kingdoms of the West. Raiders were, unfortunately, a common occurrence in their nations. However, these raiders were a united force, leaving a single symbol to indicate their presence. 

Each kingdom had tried assembling a pattern, but the raids were random– none had surfaced in either number, merchant, time, date, or order; nothing. Just a menacing symbol of an eye hidden where the stolen object used to be or graffitied where anyone passing by could see it.

The raiders never seen, never heard, never found, always merciless.

The rare times a witness caught a glimpse of the raiders, the unfortunate witness was found dead with the symbol of the raiders burnt into their forehead like a brand they had to bear unwillingly.

Despite this, the monarchs of each kingdom facing these raids and their advisors had managed to cooperate. They noticed that the more these raids happened, the other crimes decreased, such as arson, murder (those unrelated to the raiders), robberies, riots, everything you could name.

It seemed that this organization of raiders was hiring or killing every last criminal free from the law.

And soon, Keefe would be killed by one of those raiders.

The raider’s footsteps had stopped– and Keefe’s heart stopped as well.

Was that an indication that they were sneaking up on him?

And the door-

Perhaps the raider locked it.

Why was the raider here?

Would anyone care to save him?

Would anyone care at all?

Would anyone care if he died?

The raider’s footsteps stopped-

No. 

No-

It couldn’t be the end.

It couldn’t be the end of his bloodline.

He would be the first Crown Prince to die from a raider, but not the first noble.

He started praying for the salvation of some kind.

The door creaked.

“Your Highness?” A voice called into the hall. 

Keefe held his breath out of fear for this new person.

“If you’re hiding, it isn’t funny!” The defiant voice continued as he heard footsteps approach his hiding spot; those of the raider or this bold person, Keefe was unsure. “Your father wishes for your presence in court and told me to drag you by the ear if I have to.” 

The voice got closer to Keefe’s hiding spot with each word until the owner had found him: a girl with small braids in her blonde hair and ice-blue eyes.

Keefe faintly remembered her from a ceremony, but which one he couldn’t recall.

“Your Highness, this is no time to play foolish games. Surely, you know that!”

“O- of course. I- I was merely playing a game! A- a jest or a trick, if you will,” the baffled prince stuttered through his answer. 

The blonde rolled her eyes. “As I said a few seconds ago, if you were listening, your father demands your presence at court now.”

“I- of course. Let us depart now. I know my father doesn’t like waiting when he summons me.”

The guard pulled him to his feet, and they left the wing. 

Keefe quickly shut it and started limping away from it as fast as he could with the guard’s aid. 

As soon as Keefe knew he was in a safe space (or at least one with more guards), he stopped and breathed in relief.

“I cannot thank you enough. I was afraid that I was on the door of death.  My heart felt like a mad horse.”

“It is simply my duty, your Highness. You are the only heir to the throne, and my duty as a soldier and citizen is to serve the kingdom in any little way I can. I saw you run past my station with a raider in tow, and I couldn’t stand by knowing that you were in danger.”

“Even then, I owe my life to you, er…” he trailed off embarrassedly.

“Marella. Just Marella. No nicknames.”

“Well, in that case, I owe my life to you, Marella.”

“ I agree that I  have saved your life, but your ankle seems to hurt. Shall I take you to the physician for treatment?”

“Yes, please. I do not wish to be named the lazy heir,” Keefe joked with a grimace..

[=]

Once his ankle healed and he could walk without a limp, he requested a court audience with his parents.

His parents had heard of their son resting in the physician’s wing, but they had yet to learn about what happened to Keefe and accepted the requested audience as quickly as Keefe had sent it. 

His father was King Cassius, the sixth of his name, while his mother was Queen Gisela, the youngest daughter of the Nightfall kingdom. The king and queen never made time for Keefe amidst their royal duties, leaving Keefe to his own devices.

He had regularly spent time with his twin cousins, that had grown up alongside him when his uncle and aunt, King Adalius and Queen Violet of the Moonfire kingdom, passed away. 

Currently, his cousins were in their kingdom, preparing for their coronations as they settled political and economic problems. Keefe missed them dearly, yet he knew it was for the best.

The rare times his parents cast a single glance at him, it concerned his education and royal duties. In this time of rebellion, Keefe was lucky to get an audience when his father and mother were busy dealing with the losses of the raids.

The guards to the throne room had been reluctant to allow Marella to enter the room with Keefe as she had grown loyal to him ever since she saved him. Keefe, unwilling to let Marella leave his side, told the guards that Marella was a valuable witness.

The guards were reluctant as ever but pulled back their spears blocking the entrance to the throne room.

Without waiting for them to open the doors or announce him, Keefe pushed them open and barged into a chaotic court. 

Multiple ladies fanned themselves furiously as their cakey makeup ran down their faces for reasons Keefe couldn’t tell. 

The ladies that weren’t fanning themselves were in four categories: bored, gossiping, attempting to calm the men down, or arguing.

His mother closed her eyes as if she were staying out of this while his father argued with the lords next to him. They both looked like they had headaches.

“Is the court always like this?” Marella whispered to him.

“I assume,” Keefe whispered back. “I’m never invited to court frequently enough to know.”

It took approximately 20 minutes for his father to notice him, but it took another 10 for the court to calm down until his mother gave the signal for silence.

As soon as the room was utterly silent, Keefe wasted no time in telling what had happened to him. 

By the end of his story, his father’s eyes were stormy and forming a plan.

[=]

A month and a half later, Keefe was ready to set sail.

The timing was perfect; his father and the other monarchs had been ready to send their heirs to sign treaties of unity ever since they discovered the symbol of the Neverseen, the name the kingdoms decided to give the rebels.

As far as Keefe was concerned, the treaties stated that if the kingdoms suffered a loss in this period of raids, the other nations would send aid of some sort. 

Lumenaria was the agreed rendezvous for the treaty signing with no protest. 

Pre-dating the birth of written records, Lumenaria had been a sacred ground for signing treaties of all varieties.

Despite that, Keefe worried that he would accidentally cause a war rather than make allies for a battle if it happened. 

Keefe was famous in gossip circles for provoking pranks and aggravating certain people that didn’t have the shortest tempers, as reported by Marella, who was well-versed in gossip circles of that sort.

A voice cleared behind him, chasing his doubts away.

He turned, saw Marella in royal bodyguard apparel, and his jaw dropped in shock.

In a short time, they formed a familial bond. However, if she’d mentioned this, Keefe had forgotten.

“Marella! What- when? You didn’t tell me!”

Marella rubbed the back of her head nervously, which was also a new sight as Marella had always been confident around him, and laughed humbly.

“It was a last-minute promotion. Your parents saw it fit that I was to accompany you as my training has concluded. Plus, any bodyguard you have had in the past quits almost immediately. My father panicked when royal guards showed up at our door.”

Keefe laughed, not unkindly.

“Well, congratulations! You deserve it. It seems like I don’t have to stow you away in one of the crates anymore,” he joked. 

Before they boarded the ship, Keefe took one last look at his homeland and future kingdom, praying to any deity that would listen that he got back home. Preferably unscathed with all limbs intact instead of his body scarred from war and a scowl on his face. Preferably with his people still loyal to him and his bloodline. 

He took in the towering spires of the castle he called home and turned away, praying for safe passage.

Keefe deeply breathed in the sea air and didn’t look back as soon as the sails were let loose. 

[random-writing-shit]

People I keep locked up (tell me if you want in or out. Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged out of loyalty):

 @gay-otlc 

@even-if-in-another-time

@xanadaus

@booksscienceandmath

@ultralazycreatorfan 

@faggot-friday 

@stellar-lune 

@bookwyrminspiration 

@orionalumn

@an-ungraceful-swan

@sunset-telepath 

@when-wax-wings-melt 

@bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell 

@fintan-pyren 

@would-let-a-vampire-kill-me

@black-swans-and-moonlarks 

@if-only-i-was-fictional

@stellasencen

@florida-preposterously 

@fandomsarefriends-notfood 

@you-have-been-frizzled

@mynamisfab

@katniss-elizabeth-chase

@winterfireice

@camelspit 

@that-glasses-dog 

@presidentroarie 

@that-multi-fandom-mess 

@arson-anarchy-death 

@constant-sapphic-breakdown 

@squishmallow36 

@callas-pancake-tree 

@rusted-phone-calls 

@thebestbookshelf 

@isecretlywishiwasyn 

@axels-corner

@coldtragedytaco

@life-is-soup-i-am-fork1

@thefruitsaladdemon

@the-one-and-only-aroace

@synonymroll648

@kamikothe1and0lny

@luna-maximoff-22

@just-a-honey-badger

@purplesoup-lad-le

Go check out my main Tumblr unless you have already

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Everything.

Keefe felt paralyzed as his heart beat faster than a mad horse, while his ankle felt like the hottest flames of hell due to him spraining it a mere 15 minutes ago.

Screaming would be useless as he were in an abandoned wing, consequently leaving the only voice to reply being his own from an echo. 

Screaming would, additionally, cause him a quicker death, which was the opposite of what the young prince wanted. 

Either way, he couldn’t; his fear stopped him.

For months, raiders had been stealing and attacking the kingdoms of the West. Raiders were, unfortunately, a common occurrence in their nations. However, these raiders were a united force, leaving a single symbol to indicate their presence. 

Each kingdom had tried assembling a pattern, but the raids were random– none had surfaced in either number, merchant, time, date, or order; nothing. Just a menacing symbol of an eye hidden where the stolen object used to be or graffitied where anyone passing by could see it.

The raiders never seen, never heard, never found, always merciless.

The rare times a witness caught a glimpse of the raiders, the unfortunate witness was found dead with the symbol of the raiders burnt into their forehead like a brand they had to bear unwillingly.

Despite this, the monarchs of each kingdom facing these raids and their advisors had managed to cooperate. They noticed that the more these raids happened, the other crimes decreased, such as arson, murder (those unrelated to the raiders), robberies, riots, everything you could name.

It seemed that this organization of raiders was hiring or killing every last criminal free from the law.

And soon, Keefe would be killed by one of those raiders.

The raider’s footsteps had stopped– and Keefe’s heart stopped as well.

Was that an indication that they were sneaking up on him?

And the door-

Perhaps the raider locked it.

Why was the raider here?

Would anyone care to save him?

Would anyone care at all?

Would anyone care if he died?

The raider’s footsteps stopped-

No. 

No-

It couldn’t be the end.

It couldn’t be the end of his bloodline.

He would be the first Crown Prince to die from a raider, but not the first noble.

He started praying for the salvation of some kind.

The door creaked.

“Your Highness?” A voice called into the hall. 

Keefe held his breath out of fear for this new person.

“If you’re hiding, it isn’t funny!” The defiant voice continued as he heard footsteps approach his hiding spot; those of the raider or this bold person, Keefe was unsure. “Your father wishes for your presence in court and told me to drag you by the ear if I have to.” 

The voice got closer to Keefe’s hiding spot with each word until the owner had found him: a girl with small braids in her blonde hair and ice-blue eyes.

Keefe faintly remembered her from a ceremony, but which one he couldn’t recall.

“Your Highness, this is no time to play foolish games. Surely, you know that!”

“O- of course. I- I was merely playing a game! A- a jest or a trick, if you will,” the baffled prince stuttered through his answer. 

The blonde rolled her eyes. “As I said a few seconds ago, if you were listening, your father demands your presence at court now.”

“I- of course. Let us depart now. I know my father doesn’t like waiting when he summons me.”

The guard pulled him to his feet, and they left the wing. 

Keefe quickly shut it and started limping away from it as fast as he could with the guard’s aid. 

As soon as Keefe knew he was in a safe space (or at least one with more guards), he stopped and breathed in relief.

“I cannot thank you enough. I was afraid that I was on the door of death.  My heart felt like a mad horse.”

“It is simply my duty, your Highness. You are the only heir to the throne, and my duty as a soldier and citizen is to serve the kingdom in any little way I can. I saw you run past my station with a raider in tow, and I couldn’t stand by knowing that you were in danger.”

“Even then, I owe my life to you, er…” he trailed off embarrassedly.

“Marella. Just Marella. No nicknames.”

“Well, in that case, I owe my life to you, Marella.”

“ I agree that I  have saved your life, but your ankle seems to hurt. Shall I take you to the physician for treatment?”

“Yes, please. I do not wish to be named the lazy heir,” Keefe joked with a grimace..

[=]

Once his ankle healed and he could walk without a limp, he requested a court audience with his parents.

His parents had heard of their son resting in the physician’s wing, but they had yet to learn about what happened to Keefe and accepted the requested audience as quickly as Keefe had sent it. 

His father was King Cassius, the sixth of his name, while his mother was Queen Gisela, the youngest daughter of the Nightfall kingdom. The king and queen never made time for Keefe amidst their royal duties, leaving Keefe to his own devices.

He had regularly spent time with his twin cousins, that had grown up alongside him when his uncle and aunt, King Adalius and Queen Violet of the Moonfire kingdom, passed away. 

Currently, his cousins were in their kingdom, preparing for their coronations as they settled political and economic problems. Keefe missed them dearly, yet he knew it was for the best.

The rare times his parents cast a single glance at him, it concerned his education and royal duties. In this time of rebellion, Keefe was lucky to get an audience when his father and mother were busy dealing with the losses of the raids.

The guards to the throne room had been reluctant to allow Marella to enter the room with Keefe as she had grown loyal to him ever since she saved him. Keefe, unwilling to let Marella leave his side, told the guards that Marella was a valuable witness.

The guards were reluctant as ever but pulled back their spears blocking the entrance to the throne room.

Without waiting for them to open the doors or announce him, Keefe pushed them open and barged into a chaotic court. 

Multiple ladies fanned themselves furiously as their cakey makeup ran down their faces for reasons Keefe couldn’t tell. 

The ladies that weren’t fanning themselves were in four categories: bored, gossiping, attempting to calm the men down, or arguing.

His mother closed her eyes as if she were staying out of this while his father argued with the lords next to him. They both looked like they had headaches.

“Is the court always like this?” Marella whispered to him.

“I assume,” Keefe whispered back. “I’m never invited to court frequently enough to know.”

It took approximately 20 minutes for his father to notice him, but it took another 10 for the court to calm down until his mother gave the signal for silence.

As soon as the room was utterly silent, Keefe wasted no time in telling what had happened to him. 

By the end of his story, his father’s eyes were stormy and forming a plan.

[=]

A month and a half later, Keefe was ready to set sail.

The timing was perfect; his father and the other monarchs had been ready to send their heirs to sign treaties of unity ever since they discovered the symbol of the Neverseen, the name the kingdoms decided to give the rebels.

As far as Keefe was concerned, the treaties stated that if the kingdoms suffered a loss in this period of raids, the other nations would send aid of some sort. 

Lumenaria was the agreed rendezvous for the treaty signing with no protest. 

Pre-dating the birth of written records, Lumenaria had been a sacred ground for signing treaties of all varieties.

Despite that, Keefe worried that he would accidentally cause a war rather than make allies for a battle if it happened. 

Keefe was famous in gossip circles for provoking pranks and aggravating certain people that didn’t have the shortest tempers, as reported by Marella, who was well-versed in gossip circles of that sort.

A voice cleared behind him, chasing his doubts away.

He turned, saw Marella in royal bodyguard apparel, and his jaw dropped in shock.

In a short time, they formed a familial bond. However, if she’d mentioned this, Keefe had forgotten.

“Marella! What- when? You didn’t tell me!”

Marella rubbed the back of her head nervously, which was also a new sight as Marella had always been confident around him, and laughed humbly.

“It was a last-minute promotion. Your parents saw it fit that I was to accompany you as my training has concluded. Plus, any bodyguard you have had in the past quits almost immediately. My father panicked when royal guards showed up at our door.”

Keefe laughed, not unkindly.

“Well, congratulations! You deserve it. It seems like I don’t have to stow you away in one of the crates anymore,” he joked. 

Before they boarded the ship, Keefe took one last look at his homeland and future kingdom, praying to any deity that would listen that he got back home. Preferably unscathed with all limbs intact instead of his body scarred from war and a scowl on his face. Preferably with his people still loyal to him and his bloodline. 

He took in the towering spires of the castle he called home and turned away, praying for safe passage.

Keefe deeply breathed in the sea air and didn’t look back as soon as the sails were let loose. 

[random-writing-shit]

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Everything.

Keefe felt paralyzed as his heart beat faster than a mad horse, while his ankle felt like the hottest flames of hell due to him spraining it a mere 15 minutes ago.

Screaming would be useless as he were in an abandoned wing, consequently leaving the only voice to reply being his own from an echo. 

Screaming would, additionally, cause him a quicker death, which was the opposite of what the young prince wanted. 

Either way, he couldn’t; his fear stopped him.

For months, raiders had been stealing and attacking the kingdoms of the West. Raiders were, unfortunately, a common occurrence in their nations. However, these raiders were a united force, leaving a single symbol to indicate their presence. 

Each kingdom had tried assembling a pattern, but the raids were random– none had surfaced in either number, merchant, time, date, or order; nothing. Just a menacing symbol of an eye hidden where the stolen object used to be or graffitied where anyone passing by could see it.

The raiders never seen, never heard, never found, always merciless.

The rare times a witness caught a glimpse of the raiders, the unfortunate witness was found dead with the symbol of the raiders burnt into their forehead like a brand they had to bear unwillingly.

Despite this, the monarchs of each kingdom facing these raids and their advisors had managed to cooperate. They noticed that the more these raids happened, the other crimes decreased, such as arson, murder (those unrelated to the raiders), robberies, riots, everything you could name.

It seemed that this organization of raiders was hiring or killing every last criminal free from the law.

And soon, Keefe would be killed by one of those raiders.

The raider’s footsteps had stopped– and Keefe’s heart stopped as well.

Was that an indication that they were sneaking up on him?

And the door-

Perhaps the raider locked it.

Why was the raider here?

Would anyone care to save him?

Would anyone care at all?

Would anyone care if he died?

The raider’s footsteps stopped-

No. 

No-

It couldn’t be the end.

It couldn’t be the end of his bloodline.

He would be the first Crown Prince to die from a raider, but not the first noble.

He started praying for the salvation of some kind.

The door creaked.

“Your Highness?” A voice called into the hall. 

Keefe held his breath out of fear for this new person.

“If you’re hiding, it isn’t funny!” The defiant voice continued as he heard footsteps approach his hiding spot; those of the raider or this bold person, Keefe was unsure. “Your father wishes for your presence in court and told me to drag you by the ear if I have to.” 

The voice got closer to Keefe’s hiding spot with each word until the owner had found him: a girl with small braids in her blonde hair and ice-blue eyes.

Keefe faintly remembered her from a ceremony, but which one he couldn’t recall.

“Your Highness, this is no time to play foolish games. Surely, you know that!”

“O- of course. I- I was merely playing a game! A- a jest or a trick, if you will,” the baffled prince stuttered through his answer. 

The blonde rolled her eyes. “As I said a few seconds ago, if you were listening, your father demands your presence at court now.”

“I- of course. Let us depart now. I know my father doesn’t like waiting when he summons me.”

The guard pulled him to his feet, and they left the wing. 

Keefe quickly shut it and started limping away from it as fast as he could with the guard’s aid. 

As soon as Keefe knew he was in a safe space (or at least one with more guards), he stopped and breathed in relief.

“I cannot thank you enough. I was afraid that I was on the door of death.  My heart felt like a mad horse.”

“It is simply my duty, your Highness. You are the only heir to the throne, and my duty as a soldier and citizen is to serve the kingdom in any little way I can. I saw you run past my station with a raider in tow, and I couldn’t stand by knowing that you were in danger.”

“Even then, I owe my life to you, er…” he trailed off embarrassedly.

“Marella. Just Marella. No nicknames.”

“Well, in that case, I owe my life to you, Marella.”

“ I agree that I  have saved your life, but your ankle seems to hurt. Shall I take you to the physician for treatment?”

“Yes, please. I do not wish to be named the lazy heir,” Keefe joked with a grimace..

[=]

Once his ankle healed and he could walk without a limp, he requested a court audience with his parents.

His parents had heard of their son resting in the physician’s wing, but they had yet to learn about what happened to Keefe and accepted the requested audience as quickly as Keefe had sent it. 

His father was King Cassius, the sixth of his name, while his mother was Queen Gisela, the youngest daughter of the Nightfall kingdom. The king and queen never made time for Keefe amidst their royal duties, leaving Keefe to his own devices.

He had regularly spent time with his twin cousins, that had grown up alongside him when his uncle and aunt, King Adalius and Queen Violet of the Moonfire kingdom, passed away. 

Currently, his cousins were in their kingdom, preparing for their coronations as they settled political and economic problems. Keefe missed them dearly, yet he knew it was for the best.

The rare times his parents cast a single glance at him, it concerned his education and royal duties. In this time of rebellion, Keefe was lucky to get an audience when his father and mother were busy dealing with the losses of the raids.

The guards to the throne room had been reluctant to allow Marella to enter the room with Keefe as she had grown loyal to him ever since she saved him. Keefe, unwilling to let Marella leave his side, told the guards that Marella was a valuable witness.

The guards were reluctant as ever but pulled back their spears blocking the entrance to the throne room.

Without waiting for them to open the doors or announce him, Keefe pushed them open and barged into a chaotic court. 

Multiple ladies fanned themselves furiously as their cakey makeup ran down their faces for reasons Keefe couldn’t tell. 

The ladies that weren’t fanning themselves were in four categories: bored, gossiping, attempting to calm the men down, or arguing.

His mother closed her eyes as if she were staying out of this while his father argued with the lords next to him. They both looked like they had headaches.

“Is the court always like this?” Marella whispered to him.

“I assume,” Keefe whispered back. “I’m never invited to court frequently enough to know.”

It took approximately 20 minutes for his father to notice him, but it took another 10 for the court to calm down until his mother gave the signal for silence.

As soon as the room was utterly silent, Keefe wasted no time in telling what had happened to him. 

By the end of his story, his father’s eyes were stormy and forming a plan.

[=]

A month and a half later, Keefe was ready to set sail.

The timing was perfect; his father and the other monarchs had been ready to send their heirs to sign treaties of unity ever since they discovered the symbol of the Neverseen, the name the kingdoms decided to give the rebels.

As far as Keefe was concerned, the treaties stated that if the kingdoms suffered a loss in this period of raids, the other nations would send aid of some sort. 

Lumenaria was the agreed rendezvous for the treaty signing with no protest. 

Pre-dating the birth of written records, Lumenaria had been a sacred ground for signing treaties of all varieties.

Despite that, Keefe worried that he would accidentally cause a war rather than make allies for a battle if it happened. 

Keefe was famous in gossip circles for provoking pranks and aggravating certain people that didn’t have the shortest tempers, as reported by Marella, who was well-versed in gossip circles of that sort.

A voice cleared behind him, chasing his doubts away.

He turned, saw Marella in royal bodyguard apparel, and his jaw dropped in shock.

In a short time, they formed a familial bond. However, if she’d mentioned this, Keefe had forgotten.

“Marella! What- when? You didn’t tell me!”

Marella rubbed the back of her head nervously, which was also a new sight as Marella had always been confident around him, and laughed humbly.

“It was a last-minute promotion. Your parents saw it fit that I was to accompany you as my training has concluded. Plus, any bodyguard you have had in the past quits almost immediately. My father panicked when royal guards showed up at our door.”

Keefe laughed, not unkindly.

“Well, congratulations! You deserve it. It seems like I don’t have to stow you away in one of the crates anymore,” he joked. 

Before they boarded the ship, Keefe took one last look at his homeland and future kingdom, praying to any deity that would listen that he got back home. Preferably unscathed with all limbs intact instead of his body scarred from war and a scowl on his face. Preferably with his people still loyal to him and his bloodline. 

He took in the towering spires of the castle he called home and turned away, praying for safe passage.

Keefe deeply breathed in the sea air and didn’t look back as soon as the sails were let loose. 

[random-writing-shit]

verdict is in! i'll just do the final edits and i'll post it on ao3 and tumblr!!

@arson-anarchy-death @isecretlywishiwasyn @winterfireice what do you think?

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@arson-anarchy-death @isecretlywishiwasyn @winterfireice what do you think?

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@arson-anarchy-death @isecretlywishiwasyn @winterfireice what do you think?

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wip :3

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I'm picking up the pace 😌👍

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fav wlw plots? ❤️‍🩹

This is very broad, so I'm just giving story ideas I would love to read.

WLW Plot Ideas

her parents never liked any of her boyfriends, so to annoy them she gets her friend to pretend to be her new girlfriend and plot twist: her parents love her

a secret agent that often gets assigned to flirt with bad guys, gets the assignment to get close to their latest target: a lesbian hacker

the popular girl in school is expected to like the jock. but the athlete she really is into is the cute girl from the wrestling team

her friends arrange a blind date for her and she gets highly confused when it's another woman showing up, because a) she thought it was a male name and b) she never actually came out to her friends or anyone at all

they are both bridesmaids for their friend's wedding, but have never met and are now seeing each other all the time for dress shopping, bridal shower, the weekend long bachelorette party and of course the destination wedding

it's no secret that the princess is close to her chamber maid, but no one knows exactly how close (prompts)

they are both in historic positions: one is a queen who rules without ever marrying a man and the other one is her sworn shield, a woman who is the mightiest knight in all the land

Hope you like these ideas and 🌈 happy pride month to everyone! 🌈

- Jana

[random-writing-shit]

spot-the-muse starter prompts

muses being able (or forced) to see/watch each other is a great way to start or set up interactions. these are a set of visible prompts that might work as premises for starters. feel free to specify which muse is watching and which muse is experiencing the prompt!

send a number for a starter where one muse watches the other....

being strangled

being hit on by someone they're uninterested in

crawling out of an alley somewhere

getting soaked as a passing car drives through a puddle

dancing/standing in the rain

defending the other muse physically or verbally

talking about the other muse with someone else (and they don't think the other muse is listening)

sleeping in the grass in a park

returning the last copy of a library book the other muse wanted to borrow

trying and failing to eat a messy meal without making a mess

tripping up a staircase

doing their job particularly well

realising they can't pay for their coffee at a cafe

missing their stop on public transport

sighing as their phone runs out of charge when they really needed it to get home

defending themselves physically or verbally

needing help

asking someone else for help and not getting it

wrapping up (or trying to hide) a wound

passing out (or about to pass out)

interacting with a scared animal

sacrificing/giving up something they wanted, so that someone else can have it

having a nightmare

drowning

attempting to escape a disastrous blind date

[random-writing-shit]

my writing fundamentally changed forever ten years ago when i realized you could use sentence structure to control people’s heart rates. is this still forbidden knowledge or does everyone know it now

[random-writing-shit]

actress it is!