phrog-writes - Tumblr blog

[phrog-writes]

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

[phrog-writes]

Helpful things for action writers to remember

Sticking a landing will royally fuck up your joints and possibly shatter your ankles, depending on how high you’re jumping/falling from. There’s a very good reason free-runners dive and roll. 

Hand-to-hand fights usually only last a matter of seconds, sometimes a few minutes. It’s exhausting work and unless you have a lot of training and history with hand-to-hand combat, you’re going to tire out really fast. 

Arrows are very effective and you can’t just yank them out without doing a lot of damage. Most of the time the head of the arrow will break off inside the body if you try pulling it out, and arrows are built to pierce deep. An arrow wound demands medical attention. 

Throwing your opponent across the room is really not all that smart. You’re giving them the chance to get up and run away. Unless you’re trying to put distance between you so you can shoot them or something, don’t throw them. 

Everyone has something called a “flinch response” when they fight. This is pretty much the brain’s way of telling you “get the fuck out of here or we’re gonna die.” Experienced fighters have trained to suppress this. Think about how long your character has been fighting. A character in a fist fight for the first time is going to take a few hits before their survival instinct kicks in and they start hitting back. A character in a fist fight for the eighth time that week is going to respond a little differently. 

ADRENALINE WORKS AGAINST YOU WHEN YOU FIGHT. THIS IS IMPORTANT. A lot of times people think that adrenaline will kick in and give you some badass fighting skills, but it’s actually the opposite. Adrenaline is what tires you out in a battle and it also affects the fighter’s efficacy - meaning it makes them shaky and inaccurate, and overall they lose about 60% of their fighting skill because their brain is focusing on not dying. Adrenaline keeps you alive, it doesn’t give you the skill to pull off a perfect roundhouse kick to the opponent’s face. 

Swords WILL bend or break if you hit something hard enough. They also dull easily and take a lot of maintenance. In reality, someone who fights with a sword would have to have to repair or replace it constantly.

Fights get messy. There’s blood and sweat everywhere, and that will make it hard to hold your weapon or get a good grip on someone. 

A serious battle also smells horrible. There’s lots of sweat, but also the smell of urine and feces. After someone dies, their bowels and bladder empty. There might also be some questionable things on the ground which can be very psychologically traumatizing. Remember to think about all of the character’s senses when they’re in a fight. Everything WILL affect them in some way. 

If your sword is sharpened down to a fine edge, the rest of the blade can’t go through the cut you make. You’ll just end up putting a tiny, shallow scratch in the surface of whatever you strike, and you could probably break your sword. 

ARCHERS ARE STRONG TOO. Have you ever drawn a bow? It takes a lot of strength, especially when you’re shooting a bow with a higher draw weight. Draw weight basically means “the amount of force you have to use to pull this sucker back enough to fire it.” To give you an idea of how that works, here’s a helpful link to tell you about finding bow sizes and draw weights for your characters.  (CLICK ME)

If an archer has to use a bow they’re not used to, it will probably throw them off a little until they’ve done a few practice shots with it and figured out its draw weight and stability. 

People bleed. If they get punched in the face, they’ll probably get a bloody nose. If they get stabbed or cut somehow, they’ll bleed accordingly. And if they’ve been fighting for a while, they’ve got a LOT of blood rushing around to provide them with oxygen. They’re going to bleed a lot. 

Here’s a link to a chart to show you how much blood a person can lose without dying. (CLICK ME) 

If you want a more in-depth medical chart, try this one. (CLICK ME)

Hopefully this helps someone out there. If you reblog, feel free to add more tips for writers or correct anything I’ve gotten wrong here. 

[phrog-writes]

Nobody, even.

I miss doing mermaid spells in my room sigh

[phrog-writes]

[phrog-writes]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35376064

(for the folks passing by my blog who want to read it)

IUPLOADEDITIUPLOADEDITIUPLOADEDITAAAAAAAAA

IKNOWIKNOWINONWOWKIMKMWOMIKMKW

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHG

IT'S AWESOME THANKS

[phrog-writes]

yes!! yesyesyesyes as soon as i finish uploading the argument

i think i’ll keep it just sunny and basil for the sole reason that i haven’t thought much about aubrey ships dynamics (other than paintsplash) and i fully intend to spend the rest of the evening writing self indulgent crap lol

hihihi so 2 options for cheesy ass sunnflower fluff:

a) the one that’ll make you cry but then have hope (sunny runs away due to stress [omosil au! :D set before they fight or confess, not au-canon]

but after a few months basil gets a package and it’s fULL of letters from sunny. cheesy ones and sad ones. this one-shot would take awhile to write but itd be longer and more emotional and pull at ur heartstrings)

b) sunny stays the summer at basil’s house rather than moving away immediately- i’d be willing to make this one long or it could just be a one shot about their last day together

Go with B for one simple reason

I actually headcanoned that Sunny stays with Basil during Summer Break after the True Ending, and I keep this continuity in my fanfiction, so why not start a parallel of that with your fic!

if you wanna go the extra mile, add aubrey to this madness and add some burnt sunnflower into this and you've got yourself a deal

[phrog-writes]

WAIT REALLY?/?2?1!

NAH IM CREDITING YOU BUT OKAY!! ILL SEE IF I EVEN CAN LOL

I MIGHT EDIT SOME DIALOGUE BUT

hihihi okay. so omori spoilers, tw for argument, what can be seen as abusive/toxic behavior, death

this is sunny and mari’s argument, aka my first attempt at an omori fanfic! okay.

It was a beautiful day outside. The wind must’ve been the softest breeze, and the air just warm enough to be comfortable. Cumulus clouds strolled lazily over the air, curling as twisting about and graying near the bottom; a storm must have been coming soon.

As he used his thumb to pick at the aching callouses on his fingers, Sunny Suzuski wanted nothing more than to bask in the sunlight outdoors. He’d kill to fetch his friends and have a picnic in the Faraway park, munching on peanut butter jelly sandwiches and grapefruit from the fruitful tree in his backyard, lovingly nicknamed Mother Grape.

However, he was stuck inside, practicing a duet with his sister, Mari. Over the months he had been practicing this piece rigorously, he had grown to hate it. Just the sound of the beginning notes struck on the piano made his stomach drop; dark, horrible things crawling just at the edge of his vision as he tried to focus.

And here he was, practicing the duet, fingers pressing on the strings of his violin, bow gliding across. As the song progressed, he didn’t make any mistakes; a sickly hope began to bubble within him, gross and beautiful all the same. However, his thoughts distracted him- he cringed deeply as he heard the key note at the climax of the music come out flat.

Mari came to a stop. In the panicked silence between his mistake and her imminent scolding he took the chance to excuse himself from the room. “I, uh,” he said, worries swirling in his brain like a grimy stew. “think I just need some water. I’ll be right back.”

As he just the door behind him, only when he was fumbling with the bow in his hand did he realize that he had accidentally brought his violin with him in the heat of the moment.

He was about to set it down when he saw the end of the banister leading to the stairs. A twisted idea sparked in his mind. He felt his palms dampen on the wood of the instrument, while something clawed at the edges of his thoughts. He felt an anxiety bubble within his chest.

What Ifs and Hows swirled around his mind, but by the time any reasonable excuse to not do it had come to him, he was at the top of the stairs.

As he looked down to the base of the staircase, he felt his heart quicken in his chest, pounding out of his ears and making it so he could hardly hear. His hands trembled, and he couldn’t calm down, no matter what he tried.

He thought back to all the times Mari had denied him free time- time that should have been spent with friends or at school events. Time that should have been spent alone in his room or on grocery trips with his mother. Time that should not have been spent repressing the growing resentment within him every time his sister said, “No, let’s do that again,” or “I thought you wanted this to be perfect.”

He felt an insatiable rage rise within him, so much so that his hands moved without his consent- gripping the bow so tight as to snap the handle, he could hardly focus his eyes as he threw and watched as his violin tumbled down. The sound of the wood cracking almost set him free, a sick freedom, breaking his chains with his own blood.

He could hardly understand a thing as Mari rushed out of the piano room and towards him, asking, “Why, Sunny? We had worked so hard, and you threw it all away; And for what?”

He clenched his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t get any air. He tried to focus, but his vision stayed blurred. He tried to persist, but a guilty ache kept him sick and chained.

He couldn’t be here right now. He just couldn’t- not now, not when she was so angry and he was so… guilty.

He tried to walk down the stairs, feet heavy on the wooden floor. Everything felt so vibrant yet so dull- the sounds of his breathing and the creaking of the wood were ear-splitting, but he could hardly register his sister’s yells.

“No! You need to tell me why you did this!”

Mari walked in front of Sunny, blocking his path to keep him stuck. Stuck in this pain, this misery, a cycle his sister held on to do desperately that he wanted nothing more than to break. He was so terribly upset, no doubt having as much questions as she did. He felt a white-hot rage in the pit of his stomach, clawing and tearing it way up into his eyes, blinding his judgement and reason, his self control and attention.

And he did all he could think to do, and pushed.

(fin.)

just pretend the piano room is to the right of sunny’s room or something idk

...The eldest sibling of the Suzukis tumbled down the stairs, eventually crashing onto the very violin Sunny threw down.

Sunny was in shock.

What had he just done?

"Mari?!" He calls to her.

No response.

BEE, THIS IS GREAT. LIKE, THIS IS WONDERFUL.

I'm sorry, but I HAD to write a little more to your thing because it was SO GOOD.

You. Are. A. Great. Writer!

If this is a first attempt, then DAAAANG you're gonna KILL IT when you get more experienced!

Great job!!!!!!

[phrog-writes]

Sunny couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. The more of her he saw, the more twisted the sight became, curling and twisting itself into something almost unrecognizable. Her neck had started to go purple, bruising from the tight hold it held around her beck, from what little moving blood was left.

Instead, he glanced downwards, instead looking at the grass. There, sitting at the base of the tree, was an open toy box. Sunny placed his broken violin and the blood stained sheet music within it. He scanned the grass one last time to look for wood shards, when hey saw something lying on the ground; a key.

He took the cold, small key, and locked away a secret-something never to be reopened, he vowed.

“Basil, I… If I keep this key, someone could find out. I’m going to give it to you. Can I trust you with it?” Sunny asked, clammy hands warming the metal.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’ll keep it. You can trust me,” Basil said.

Sunny held Basil’s hand with one hand and a heavy toy box with the other as they walked towards Sunny’s home. Basil, holding just a key, opened the back door for them. Just as Basil had slid it open, Sunny felt a cold chill hit his back, in contrast to the warm air that previously settled there. He turned around on impulse, just to see his sister one last time…

God, it was ugly. That eye, that horrible eye open wide and staring back, instilling such guilt and fear that it would be a memory he would never forget- he would play it back every moment he thought to, each time dementing and perverting the image more and more until it was almost unrecognizable and was but the quintessence of his feelings; his fear, his guilt, his anger.

All of it staring right back at him.

hihihi okay. so omori spoilers, tw for argument, what can be seen as abusive/toxic behavior, death

this is sunny and mari’s argument, aka my first attempt at an omori fanfic! okay.

It was a beautiful day outside. The wind must’ve been the softest breeze, and the air just warm enough to be comfortable. Cumulus clouds strolled lazily over the air, curling as twisting about and graying near the bottom; a storm must have been coming soon.

As he used his thumb to pick at the aching callouses on his fingers, Sunny Suzuski wanted nothing more than to bask in the sunlight outdoors. He’d kill to fetch his friends and have a picnic in the Faraway park, munching on peanut butter jelly sandwiches and grapefruit from the fruitful tree in his backyard, lovingly nicknamed Mother Grape.

However, he was stuck inside, practicing a duet with his sister, Mari. Over the months he had been practicing this piece rigorously, he had grown to hate it. Just the sound of the beginning notes struck on the piano made his stomach drop; dark, horrible things crawling just at the edge of his vision as he tried to focus.

And here he was, practicing the duet, fingers pressing on the strings of his violin, bow gliding across. As the song progressed, he didn’t make any mistakes; a sickly hope began to bubble within him, gross and beautiful all the same. However, his thoughts distracted him- he cringed deeply as he heard the key note at the climax of the music come out flat.

Mari came to a stop. In the panicked silence between his mistake and her imminent scolding he took the chance to excuse himself from the room. “I, uh,” he said, worries swirling in his brain like a grimy stew. “think I just need some water. I’ll be right back.”

As he just the door behind him, only when he was fumbling with the bow in his hand did he realize that he had accidentally brought his violin with him in the heat of the moment.

He was about to set it down when he saw the end of the banister leading to the stairs. A twisted idea sparked in his mind. He felt his palms dampen on the wood of the instrument, while something clawed at the edges of his thoughts. He felt an anxiety bubble within his chest.

What Ifs and Hows swirled around his mind, but by the time any reasonable excuse to not do it had come to him, he was at the top of the stairs.

As he looked down to the base of the staircase, he felt his heart quicken in his chest, pounding out of his ears and making it so he could hardly hear. His hands trembled, and he couldn’t calm down, no matter what he tried.

He thought back to all the times Mari had denied him free time- time that should have been spent with friends or at school events. Time that should have been spent alone in his room or on grocery trips with his mother. Time that should not have been spent repressing the growing resentment within him every time his sister said, “No, let’s do that again,” or “I thought you wanted this to be perfect.”

He felt an insatiable rage rise within him, so much so that his hands moved without his consent- gripping the bow so tight as to snap the handle, he could hardly focus his eyes as he threw and watched as his violin tumbled down. The sound of the wood cracking almost set him free, a sick freedom, breaking his chains with his own blood.

He could hardly understand a thing as Mari rushed out of the piano room and towards him, asking, “Why, Sunny? We had worked so hard, and you threw it all away; And for what?”

He clenched his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t get any air. He tried to focus, but his vision stayed blurred. He tried to persist, but a guilty ache kept him sick and chained.

He couldn’t be here right now. He just couldn’t- not now, not when she was so angry and he was so… guilty.

He tried to walk down the stairs, feet heavy on the wooden floor. Everything felt so vibrant yet so dull- the sounds of his breathing and the creaking of the wood were ear-splitting, but he could hardly register his sister’s yells.

“No! You need to tell me why you did this!”

Mari walked in front of Sunny, blocking his path to keep him stuck. Stuck in this pain, this misery, a cycle his sister held on to do desperately that he wanted nothing more than to break. He was so terribly upset, no doubt having as much questions as she did. He felt a white-hot rage in the pit of his stomach, clawing and tearing it way up into his eyes, blinding his judgement and reason, his self control and attention.

And he did all he could think to do, and pushed.

(fin.)

just pretend the piano room is to the right of sunny’s room or something idk

...The eldest sibling of the Suzukis tumbled down the stairs, eventually crashing onto the very violin Sunny threw down.

Sunny was in shock.

What had he just done?

"Mari?!" He calls to her.

No response.

BEE, THIS IS GREAT. LIKE, THIS IS WONDERFUL.

I'm sorry, but I HAD to write a little more to your thing because it was SO GOOD.

You. Are. A. Great. Writer!

If this is a first attempt, then DAAAANG you're gonna KILL IT when you get more experienced!

Great job!!!!!!

[phrog-writes]

:D

yoyoyo okay. this is my writing blog. amazing first post amirite

[phrog-writes]

(tw: noose, suicide implication, staging a body)

“I’ll tie the knot but… I can’t carry her alone. I’ll need you to help me,” Basil said in a hushed tone. Wind flowed through the leaves on the large oak tree where Basil was the tie the horrible knot, swaying each individual gracefully. It was sickening. How could they look so free when they were still so chained?

A gust of humid air signaled the onset of a storm.

“Come on Sunny, we have to hurry. They’ll be- They’ll be back soon.”

Sunny sat slumped on the grass looking at his sister. Something itched at his ankles, but he did not have the will to look. He looked at how Mari’s now tangled hair still adorned her face so beautifully. He would never have that sight again, would he?

By the time Basil had finished tying the noose up, it was eerily still. The air was motionless, and it was silent, as if to give them the chance to ask themselves: Is this really what I want to do? But neither had the energy to say no.

Basil walked over to Sunny, and held out his hand, which Sunny took. They stood, and saw fate in front of their eyes. A noose, a dead sister, a stool, and a helping hand.

hihihi okay. so omori spoilers, tw for argument, what can be seen as abusive/toxic behavior, death

this is sunny and mari’s argument, aka my first attempt at an omori fanfic! okay.

It was a beautiful day outside. The wind must’ve been the softest breeze, and the air just warm enough to be comfortable. Cumulus clouds strolled lazily over the air, curling as twisting about and graying near the bottom; a storm must have been coming soon.

As he used his thumb to pick at the aching callouses on his fingers, Sunny Suzuski wanted nothing more than to bask in the sunlight outdoors. He’d kill to fetch his friends and have a picnic in the Faraway park, munching on peanut butter jelly sandwiches and grapefruit from the fruitful tree in his backyard, lovingly nicknamed Mother Grape.

However, he was stuck inside, practicing a duet with his sister, Mari. Over the months he had been practicing this piece rigorously, he had grown to hate it. Just the sound of the beginning notes struck on the piano made his stomach drop; dark, horrible things crawling just at the edge of his vision as he tried to focus.

And here he was, practicing the duet, fingers pressing on the strings of his violin, bow gliding across. As the song progressed, he didn’t make any mistakes; a sickly hope began to bubble within him, gross and beautiful all the same. However, his thoughts distracted him- he cringed deeply as he heard the key note at the climax of the music come out flat.

Mari came to a stop. In the panicked silence between his mistake and her imminent scolding he took the chance to excuse himself from the room. “I, uh,” he said, worries swirling in his brain like a grimy stew. “think I just need some water. I’ll be right back.”

As he just the door behind him, only when he was fumbling with the bow in his hand did he realize that he had accidentally brought his violin with him in the heat of the moment.

He was about to set it down when he saw the end of the banister leading to the stairs. A twisted idea sparked in his mind. He felt his palms dampen on the wood of the instrument, while something clawed at the edges of his thoughts. He felt an anxiety bubble within his chest.

What Ifs and Hows swirled around his mind, but by the time any reasonable excuse to not do it had come to him, he was at the top of the stairs.

As he looked down to the base of the staircase, he felt his heart quicken in his chest, pounding out of his ears and making it so he could hardly hear. His hands trembled, and he couldn’t calm down, no matter what he tried.

He thought back to all the times Mari had denied him free time- time that should have been spent with friends or at school events. Time that should have been spent alone in his room or on grocery trips with his mother. Time that should not have been spent repressing the growing resentment within him every time his sister said, “No, let’s do that again,” or “I thought you wanted this to be perfect.”

He felt an insatiable rage rise within him, so much so that his hands moved without his consent- gripping the bow so tight as to snap the handle, he could hardly focus his eyes as he threw and watched as his violin tumbled down. The sound of the wood cracking almost set him free, a sick freedom, breaking his chains with his own blood.

He could hardly understand a thing as Mari rushed out of the piano room and towards him, asking, “Why, Sunny? We had worked so hard, and you threw it all away; And for what?”

He clenched his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t get any air. He tried to focus, but his vision stayed blurred. He tried to persist, but a guilty ache kept him sick and chained.

He couldn’t be here right now. He just couldn’t- not now, not when she was so angry and he was so… guilty.

He tried to walk down the stairs, feet heavy on the wooden floor. Everything felt so vibrant yet so dull- the sounds of his breathing and the creaking of the wood were ear-splitting, but he could hardly register his sister’s yells.

“No! You need to tell me why you did this!”

Mari walked in front of Sunny, blocking his path to keep him stuck. Stuck in this pain, this misery, a cycle his sister held on to do desperately that he wanted nothing more than to break. He was so terribly upset, no doubt having as much questions as she did. He felt a white-hot rage in the pit of his stomach, clawing and tearing it way up into his eyes, blinding his judgement and reason, his self control and attention.

And he did all he could think to do, and pushed.

(fin.)

just pretend the piano room is to the right of sunny’s room or something idk

...The eldest sibling of the Suzukis tumbled down the stairs, eventually crashing onto the very violin Sunny threw down.

Sunny was in shock.

What had he just done?

"Mari?!" He calls to her.

No response.

BEE, THIS IS GREAT. LIKE, THIS IS WONDERFUL.

I'm sorry, but I HAD to write a little more to your thing because it was SO GOOD.

You. Are. A. Great. Writer!

If this is a first attempt, then DAAAANG you're gonna KILL IT when you get more experienced!

Great job!!!!!!

[phrog-writes]

new day new blog

@writeranon69 @sunnydrinksbepsi

[phrog-writes]

yoyoyo okay. this is my writing blog. amazing first post amirite