#you'll like the snippets

[uniquethingtastemaker]

How difficult is it to transition from comedy funny moments to angst sad moments? Is there a certain strategy you use or is it based on what is being written and the character?

I don't find it very hard, even if it's within the same scene. Honestly, Riddle's Dreaming of You is almost a study in seamlessly switching from one vibe to another. I'll show a couple of Long Snippet Examples, depicting the specific feelings you mentioned. I can't show some of the context, but I'll provide what I can:

Small context for Snippet 1: Riddle just had a terrible panic attack, and the crew is trying to lighten the mood to make him feel better.

You feel Riddle softly giggle against you. Your body releases some tension as you pull back to look at him.

He still clutches your chest, and his eyes are swollen, but there’s more life to him than before. You run a hand through his hair, guiding him back into you. He adjusts his position to face the group more. Your boyfriend’s voice is still a little nasally, but he still says his scathing opinion. 

“I would advise you to have more of your guard up around Deuce, but that wouldn’t be as funny,” he comments. 

Ace’s eyes comically widen. 

“Woah, Riddle has a sense of humor.” 

The former dorm leader chucks a used tissue in his direction. The former freshman jerks away, squishing the other members of the Clown Crew. 

“Gross!!!” he cries. 

Deuce shoves him off, only for his partner to keel over the arm of the couch. He looks over at the blue-nette offended. 

“Really?!” 

Another play fight breaks out. 

Your boyfriend floats another tissue in between them. The two immediately jump away from each other. 

“Calm down,” he commands. 

“Yes, dorm leader,” they chorus. 

Riddle smirks, still loving his old title. Then, the yelling starts from downstairs. 

Your boyfriend’s face drains of color, and his shoulders hike up into his ears. He curls up in a ball, pressing against you. His form quakes at the familiar sound. 

The atmosphere instantly flips. 

-----------

Snippet 2:

Riddle’s heaving sobs fill the room. Trey sits on the bed and rubs the redhead's back. 

After a moment, Ace grabs Grim and chucks him at your little group. Your cat screeches, flying into Riddle’s lap. The action is so startling that the former dorm leader quiets down to look at the magical creature, baffled. 

Tears still stream down his cheeks, but he looks up at the perpetrator. 

Ace shrugs. 

“I wanted you to stop crying. It kinda worked,” he states. 

Riddle scoffs. It’s full of snot, but it’s progress. 

You hand him another tissue. He blows his runny nose, adding to the ever-growing pile. You wonder if he’ll go through an entire tissue box at this rate. 

“I still want to do something, but now I don’t know what,” he says. 

----------

Back to the original answer...This question is under the umbrella of pacing. As someone who just got the hang of it myself, I'm not sure I have much to offer. For me, it's intuitive.

The best answer I can give that doesn't take 5 hrs to 100% figure out is that sometimes I'll use humor to lighten a heavy situation. I don't use it for everything, but it tells you a lot about a character if they do it and how they do it. Some would be intentional, and others wouldn't. I can see Sebek saying something dramatic and/or dumb, where the only response is to laugh because that was ridiculous. Ace does it more often than Trey, because glasses boy is a professional comforter. He's going to listen to you, give you hugs, and bake you your favorite food or dessert. Honestly, I don't think some of the more comforting characters, like Trey or Silver, would lighten the mood with a joke. However, if one is made, they smile at it and see if it's helping the distressed person.

As for the humor to angst, that's easy. Just have an outside harrowing force happen, and then make all the characters take the threat seriously.

Hope I answered the question thoroughly!!

[kaurwreck]

curious to know why you like gin so much!

Gin is a teenage girl sage king. She personifies love without ego and is also an ambush predator. She is divine grace if divine grace were an assassin with peach scented lotion. She thinks the urban legend that cherry blossoms are so pretty because they feed on bodies buried beneath them is neat. She chose hell, and transcends it.

Metanarratively, she is the archetypal Mary conceptualized by Ryunosuke Akutagawa in Man of the West:

We sense a bit of Mary in all women. Perhaps in all men, too.... In fact, one could say that we feel a bit of Mary in the fires burning in the hearth or in the vegetables fresh from the field, or in an unglazed pot or solidly built chair. Mary is not the one who is eternally feminine. She is the one who eternally protects us. After all, as the mother of Christ, Mary spent her life traversing the "vale of tears." And yet, she lived with great fortitude. In her life, one finds worldly wisdom, folly, and virtue.

...

[People] have had to take lessons from Mary, more so than Christ, to find the way that leads to peace.

Gin is clever, decisive, perceptive, poised, and impish. She loves her older brother. She likes lace and florals and gourmand scents and play aggression. She reflects rippling, concurrent shades of black, gray, and white (e.g., when her eyes are black, she wears gray, when her eyes are gray, she wears her black hair down like a veil; depending on the context, she is either dressed or masked in white). She's quick to blush.

I like Gin so much because she's Gin.

[redo-rewind-if]

So, uh... about that "friendly" chat with August... 😬

[iwonderwh0]

"Do you still have my coin? Can I have it back?" Connor asked.

"Uh, sure," Hank slid his hand into a pocket and, without turning his head, handed the content of it to Connor.

"Hank it's not..."

A sudden realisation washed over Hank as he swiftly turned his head and stared at the grey circle in Connor's fingers. Fuck.

"I didn't know you kept it," Connor smiled sheepishly, as if still not entirely sure if the object in his hand was truly what he thought it was.

Hank swallowed. For some reason he felt embarrassed, as if Connor had just caught him red-handed invading his privacy, even though the expression on android's face showed no sign of discomfort. Just confusion.

"I-" Hank cleared his throat, "I guess I forgot I put it there."

Except he didn't. It was a harmless lie, he decided, much more digestible at least than the truth, which was that he kept it on purpose. Somehow it felt important. After all, it was the only visible sign of life for when android went inactive, and Hank used to find a comfort in the sight of it. If the android stayed still without breathing and looked dead by every human standard – at least the light was still on. Hank couldn't help but check on it whenever he saw Connor in such an inactive state. If he was completely honest, he wished the android kept the damn thing. It was selfish of him, Hank knew, but that was the truth, and he only hoped his frustrated disappointment wasn't too obvious for Connor to sense. He probably noticed. Of course, Hank couldn't bring himself to throw the LED away when it just got removed, when it was still glowing blue, indicating the life that wasn't there anymore to read properly. He put it in his pocket for the time being and decided to throw it away when the light goes off. It lasted for only about three days, but even then Hank found himself unwilling to let it go. By that time he got accustomed to rotating it around his fingers in moments of worry – there was something soothing in the sensation of sleek plastic, something calming about it's weight, and something reassuring about the fact that Hank still got it with him. Even if it had no light left.

Now that the LED was in Connor's hands, Hank realized the true extent to which he really didn't want to throw it away – he wanted it back. Now that it was useless, he needed it more than Connor, even if he couldn't explain to him why. He wouldn't understand.

To his relief Connor handed it back to him. He didn't ask.

Hank exchanged it for a coin – a correct one this time – and put the LED back in the pocket, enclosing it with his fingers as he returned it.

He half-expected Connor to say something about it, but the other tossed a coin back and forth from hand to hand and focused his eyes on something outside the window. He didn't say a thing, and Hank was thankful he didn't.

[the-hwaelweg]

So the good news is I wrote 1.5k words last night. The bad news it was not on the fic I teased you all with 😅

[valiant-if]

y'know, initially i was gonna write two origin-esque short stories for the Ko-fi bonuses this month, but i decided i'm gonna do something a little different

so instead you're gonna get a little au snippet fluff series of getting stuck in a snowstorm with each of the ROs ☃❄

[missmungoe]

just wondering if you're going to update "Put it on my tab"? its one of my favorites and I just hoe everyone flocks to makinos!!!! this is not me trying to pressure an update btw!! take all the time you want but im just wondering where on the update list it is if that makes sense? Have a lovely day and I love your work so much!!!❤❤❤❤

Hearing that it's one of your favourites made me so happy, I went and finished the draft for the next chapter, so it's actually next on my schedule! Hoping to update it this week if energy allows, but in the meantime, have a little snippet while I edit!

From chapter 2 of Put It on My Tab, aka the fic where a lot of people show up in Makino's bar. First up:

The bar was like he’d described it.

It’s not your usual watering hole, he’d said, his gaze drawn inwards, as though picturing it. They'd been drinking in the galley on Moby Dick, all of them gathered together; the noise level had almost drowned out his voice as he'd continued, It’s really tidy, and she keeps flowers in her windows. I used to think bars were supposed to be seedy, or at the very least a little dingy. All the ones I’d seen in Goa were, so I figured it was part of the gig, but hers was different.

He’d grinned; the one he reserved for the good things from his childhood, like his brothers, and the bandits who’d raised him, as Ace had told them, simply, She’s different.

I take it you’ve never dined and dashed from your tab there, Marco remembered saying.

He’d laughed at that. He could still recall the sound, and the way he’d throw his head back. Oyaji had once remarked that he’d never looked more like his father than when he laughed, but Marco had never told Ace that.

I’d like to meet the person who could, Ace had said.

Their whole crew had been listening now, Oyaji included, a focus that betrayed a curious amount of intrigue, given the topic of conversation, but it was Izo who'd asked, She's that scary?

Ace's grin had softened, something almost bashful in it, as though he was suddenly a much younger boy, even if Marco had often teased him that he was young. And he’d given them a clear picture of the island where he'd grown up, and its inhabitants, Dadan and her family, and the villagers, but here he’d shaken his head, as though this couldn’t be described. Instead, all he’d said was,

If you ever meet her, you’ll see what I mean.

[aihaloos]

Mwahahahaha my first real fic and of course it has to be Tsukasa angst and contain mafukasa drama.

(Note: If you want context for the scene attached read the tags)

I'm clearly overcompensating for the lack of Tsukasa angst in canon but leave me be okay. SEGA neglects Tsukasa like his parents. I can do what I want. And of course, I'm a sucker for happy endings. I won't nake it end on horrible note.

And I'll try to make it good quality I promise. English isn't my first language [cry] but I'm most comfortable with it and people have told me I'm pretty fluent so hopefully it won't be full of shit...

(Hopefully I've also grown past my wattpad fanfic writer tendencies (I love people on wattpad but a lot of fics there that features x reader would just copy and paste the script, add a bit of description, rewrite tiny bits (aka write the characters fall in love at first sight), and leave it like that. (Or maybe that's twst/kny/mha exclusive... I don't know.) (Granted I do still have some scenes like that because it is a "rewrite" of the main story, but I won't copy n paste the entire thing I swear) Don't get me wrong I still love those fics, they have their charm, but I know I shouldn't be that repetitive.). I still have them, and I'm trying to shake them off...)

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

Your little post about stalker Touya made me crave for more! Are you maybe planning on writing a full fic with this idea? If not, it’s okay tho!

Have a good day/night <3

Awww this is really sweet I'm glad you liked it!!!!

I don't have any plans based off of that specific post, but I am currently writing fics where he is actively stalking you in the background of your relationship and eventually in the fantasy he has about you. You can check out what I've posted for that in this tag and this tag.

I'm also offering that fantasy fic as a sponsorship in support of the Fics for Gaza campaign! It's titled Bury My Ashes at Sea (or shortened to Hex!fic). You can donate and encourage me to finish it a little faster if you so choose!!! Thanks for the sweet comment!!! You have a good day/night too! <3

[clowningaroundmars]

miles g fic first draft is DONE. 30k words in case y'all wanted to know 😪

all i have to do now is just edit it andddd uh hopefully its up on ao3 before long!! :)

[memento-morri-writes]

Carrion Backstory Chapter 3 - "Arran"

Chapter 1 [+ author commentary] / Chapter 2 [+ author commentary] / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 [+ author commentary] / [+ read the whole thing on ao3]

pov: Carrion wordcount: 1.2k character(s): Carrion Vice (D&D), Arran (random backstory NPC) canon status: canon backstory vignette trigger warnings: (non-graphic) mentions of injury + illness, (non-graphic) mentions of violence, nightmares summary: Carrion has a conversation with his rescuer.

 “My name is Carrion.”

There was an awkward pause before the man laughed. “Alright, don’t wanna tell a stranger in the woods your name? Fair enough.” He handed Carrion another plate of food.

Carrion bristled, and a part of him wanted to insist that it was his name. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “And who are you? How did you find me?” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, his throat dry. 

His rescuer passed him a flask. Carefully, Carrion smelled it. Water. Taking a sip, he watched his rescuer expectantly. 

“My name is Arran. My real one, that is.” He shrugged. “I don’t see a point in hiding it. Besides, I don’t know that I’m clever enough to come up with another one.” He chuckled. “As for how I found you, I was walking up the road a few nights ago and saw something lying in the road. Thought you were an animal or something at first. A bear-kill, maybe.” He scratched his bearded chin idly. “But nope. A whole ass person. And beat to shit, too.” He gestured at Carrion with his free hand. “You were in a rough state. Wasn’t too sure you’d make it for a while. But I guess you’re as strong as you look.”

Carrion set aside his empty plate, licking the last of the rabbit’s flavor from his fingers. “How long was I… When did you find me?”

Arran hummed thoughtfully, playing with his beard. “It’s been about 3 days since I found you. But judging by the state you were in, you’d been out there for at least a couple more.”

Five days, then. That was a long time. Theodore and the rest of the Order would be nearly halfway back to the city by now. He shook his head. There was no way to catch up to them now. And besides, he was still healing, as his body was quick to remind him.

Arran glanced over at him, setting aside his own plate. “Er, if you don’t mind me asking… What happened? You look like someone used you as a pincushion.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Carrion’s body tensed, his wounds twinging in pain as he remembered the paladins falling on him, stabbing him over and over again. He shook his head. “I was attacked. Left for dead.” 

Arran nodded. “Bandits, I’d bet. Nasty fuckers.” He took a drink from his flask. “There’s loads of them in these hills. Don’t usually come this far up, but it’s not unheard of.” He looked Carrion in the face. Still casual, he asked, “So what was a member of the Silver Order doing up here all alone?”

Shit. Of course he had noticed. Carrion had been wearing a tunic with the Order’s symbol. His mind churned. He had to say something. “It was uh… personal business. There’s a healer, the solitary sort, who lives further up the mountain.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“Oof. Tough luck. Get one ailment cured and you’re nearly cut down again right after.” He didn’t seem suspicious in the slightest, but Carrion was still wary.

He nodded. Let Arran assume whatever he wanted. Anything was better than him asking more questions. Especially questions that might lead too close to the truth. 

Arran laughed. “You must be cursed or something.”

He had to stop himself from flinching. Cursed. That was certainly one word for it. Cursed. Corrupted. There was no pretty way to describe what had happened to him. What he was now. He remembered Beren’s words. That thing isn’t Reverence anymore. 

He shook his former friend out of his mind and looked up at Arran. “What are you doing up here? Not many people go wandering alone in the mountains if they have any other option.”

Arran smiled. “Not many. But I’m a hunter. Going off into the wilderness is kinda my job.” He patted something behind him, and for the first time Carrion noticed a longbow and quiver propper up against a tree.

That explained a lot of things: His weathered appearance, the numerous weapons scattered around the camp, why he was alone, his knowledge of field medicine. It made sense. It seemed that he really was just a lonely huntsman. Still, Carrion knew he wouldn’t quite be able to relax any time soon. 

But even as he thought it, he was increasingly aware of the tiredness tugging at his mind. He hadn’t been awake long, but given the extent of his injuries, it wasn’t entirely surprising. Healing was tiring work, especially without the aid of magic. He fought back a yawn.

“Tired, are you?” Carrion nodded. “Well, I haven’t slept yet, so it seems that both of us need some rest.”

Carrion shuffled back to the pelt he’d been lying on earlier. Arran dampened the fire – it wasn’t cold enough yet to truly need it for warmth – before making his way to his own bedroll. 

“Wait, shouldn’t someone keep watch?” Carrion didn’t want to encounter any actual bandits, or any large animals.

Arran shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s safe. The camp is well-hidden, and there shouldn’t be anything dangerous around. The bandits that attacked you have moved on by now. Besides, I’m a light sleeper.”

“Alright, if you’re sure…” 

Despite his wariness, and his fears that Arran might try to attack him in the dark, sleep quickly overtook Carrion, dragging him down into the dark.

In his dreams, he found himself running blindly through a dark forest, pushing branches out of his way. He could hear something behind him, the brush rustling and the panting breaths of another creature.  Trees and bushes tore at his skin as he plowed onwards. He wasn’t sure why he was running, but he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he stopped he would die. 

Eventually, he burst into a clearing and staggered to a stop. He spun around, searching the tree line for whatever had been chasing him. Every movement in the shadows made him flinch, certain that something would charge out of the forest and attack him. But nothing came. 

He could still hear the bushes rustling, though, and he knew he was not alone. Occasionally he thought he saw something moving, or the reflection of eyes peering out at him from the brush. Whatever was chasing him, it was out there, watching, waiting. 

Then, without warning, something grabbed his shoulder. He whirled around, and– 

Carrion bolted upright, fist flying towards the creature kneeling over him. The strike landed, and it toppled backwards, crying out in pain. 

“Ow! What the hell?” the creature exclaimed in a decidedly human voice.

Carrion blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. Arran lay flat on his back on the dirt, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

He lowered his fist. “Uh, sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you were a bandit or something.”

Arran sat up, rubbing his jaw. “It’s alright.” He winced slightly as his fingers found a tender spot. “You certainly pack quite a punch.”

“I’ve had some training.” Theodore’s face rose unbidden to his mind, standing beside a leather-padded sack they used as a punching bag. Shrugging off the memory, he asked, “Why’d you wake me?”

“You cried out. I was worried the fever had returned.”

Carrion shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly.” Arran brushed himself off as he got to his feet. “Well, now that we’re both awake, how about some breakfast?” Carrion’s stomach growled in response, and Arran laughed. “I guess that answers that question.”

[victorluvsalice]

I told you I hoped to rectify only having the prologue up very soon! So here's the actual Chapter One of "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of," which actually features Alice, Smiler, and Victor, and how they all actually met! :) Hope you enjoy!

[great-master-airplane]

jumps up and down for bsd fluff week 5 and kindly asks for a snippet or more about the plans

hhhhhnnnn okay so I don't have a snippet yet, but I can provide a tiny description! The prompts for that day are [flowers / pillows / “Do you think we’ll be like this forever?”]. I'm planning to use all three of them to write something so domestic but also very Soukoku.

Like Dazai bringing home flowers for Chuuya, claiming they're poisonous when they aren't. Or Chuuya saying he bought the absolute worst pillow for Dazai when he actually got his favorite brand. They will be so extra but also so soft and fluffy <3

[mirrortouchedsea]

i've been into mahoyaku for all of 2 weeks and i'm already writing fanfic for it...

[snogfairy]

Hi hey hello how familiar with TMA would one have to be to read your AU

Not at all! I'm only taking the basic premise (which I will explain) of the podcast and putting our fools into that universe, the story is its own! There might be some nods to TMA that ppl unfamiliar with it won't get, but that won't detract from the reading experience. ;)

[pynkhues]

I am very very curious about that tower scene because Sam said in an interview that he didn't think Lestat was at the tower voluntarily--so if Armand put him there, how much of Louis' memory of that scene is accurate? Lestat looks very well put-together for a prisoner, and how is he being kept there? So much about that scene felt intentionally odd (even, and you touched on this in your fic, that Lestat says that he wasn't kept in the room with the corpses/"disappointments", whereas he'd told Louis and Claudia that he was kept in a room with corpses).

I'm really curious too, anon! It definitely feels like one that's going to be revisited, probably in more ways than one given Magnus' tower is such a vital location across The Vampire Lestat, and it makes sense that Sam would say that too given Lestat's not there by choice in the book. Like you said, Armand takes him there after the trial (and pushes him out the window to debilitate him further) and I'm curious as to how much of that the show keeps. They've changed a few elements of that sequence already that I don't think can be reversed - like Claudia's dress ending up with Louis for instance, not Lestat - and the bigger fact of Louis seeing Lestat then at all when in the book Armand tells him Lestat died in the theatre fire even though he knows he didn't).

You're right though that it's an odd scene, both between how good Lestat looked (but then Louis' memories of how he looked at the trial too were coloured by other emotions given the revisited scenes at the end showed how unwell he actually looked) and that change in what Lestat tells Louis about where he was kept in Magnus' tower feels pointed given 2.08 spends quite a bit of time pointing out its own deliberate inconsistencies with s1 moments.

I think like a lot of these scenes, Louis' memory of it will be a partial truth, but it lacks the context that we have (and he now, at least, has some of). I also kiiind of imagine Lestat and Armand are probably talking to each other too with the mind link in that scene, but obviously we're not privvy to if that's happening or what it might entail yet.

I can't wait to see what they do with it.