#i'm pretty good at reading aloud i think. i do some character voices.

[noirandchocolate]

I just started reading Terry Pratchett's "Nation" out loud two days ago and I just want everybody to know I'm doing SO good at not crying my eyes out and ruining the flow so far. I wanted to share this book and I'm being so brave while I do it.

Also Mau is my son and god Pratchett is so good at describing how emotions and experiences feel by showing actions and thoughts.

[jacksprostate]

Was just wondering how you manage to replicate palahniuk’s style so well and also obviously write his characters?

Love your blog btw!

There's a few things that go into it!

Firstly, I have the advantage of, according to my friends, before I read any of his stuff my style was already kind of Chuck adjacent. I tend to be very rhythmic in my writing, I do like to have little repetitions, I like fun descriptions — similar to how he focuses on things reading aloud well, and favoring offbeat descriptions, his little ritual words, etc. That's my biggest secret, I just already wrote pretty close to it without knowing, so I didn't have a whole lot to change. Similar dog learning new tricks sort of deal. That said, there IS stuff I actively think about, especially with regard to character voice:

There's some things I'd call window dressing — minor changes that make it more recognizable. This would be things such as: the narrator does not get put in quotes, slips into 2nd person, using a rhythm where the dialogue tag goes in front (generally Tyler says, blah, not blah, Tyler says). That also makes it feel more active and present. I also like to outright include the occasional line from the book as a referential repetition, or a spoof on a line, I think that's the fun of fanfiction. But if those lines stand out glaringly it can be a sign you either need to change your style or maybe you're just trying to stick it somewhere it doesn't belong.

There's some bigger things: sentence variation is another thing I've invested pretty heavily in on my own and something I highly recommend any writer get in the habit of, but in trying to match his character voice I do consciously feel for when something is getting too long, specifically. The key with Chuck is he can have long sentences, but they're made out of short ideas. Long sentences often become grammatically incorrect as they're separate ideas jammed together for rhythm and sense.

He also shies away from adjectives; I kind of ignore this because I love a good adjective, but I've learned from it by making sure each one is impactful in its own way. Avoid superfluousness, keep things moving. He also shies away from stereotypical descriptions, I enjoyed building my confidence making weird ones. It's something I'm keeping going forward.

Another thing with his style is he loves fun facts. Fortunately I also love fun facts. To do those you have to keep it relevant, symbolic/metaphorical, purposeful, and simple. You can totally get complex, but only using simple building blocks. It's not to show everyone you know something, it's to build a little cliff to push the narrator off of. People don't need the detailed rockwork.

He often has little... almost like an aside? The narrator will ramble or think about something else for a little bit before getting back to the present. That shaky hold on the Now contrasts with how action focused everything is and allows moments of rest even if its still action.

As for character voice, the narrator; by following the above, you can get most of it, and then remembering his general view of the world to keep things in theme. He shouldn't be happy. He should have a lot of surpressed rage. Etc. Good character writing starts with a good understanding of the character, and that's real important for whoever your pov is. Always important to check if stuff passes the "he wouldn't fucking say that" test. When I have dialogue for him, it's almost an extension of his thoughts. I mentally read it to myself with the dull affect Ed Norton used for the movie monologue, really that shit was perfect. I usually can't keep a voice in my head like that but that one... yeah.

Tyler on the other hand I have to be pretty conscious about, sometimes I'll go back through the book and read some of his lines. He tends to be very direct. Very rarely uses names, it's tempting to use psycho boy or ikea boy all the time but it's the devil speaking. Tyler is direct, always serious even when he's laughing, his statements are not mitigated at all, if he is saying a pet name it is for its own impact not to soften any sort of statement. Rhythmically I find this directness difficult sometimes, but the 'Tyler says' dialogue tag makes it feel like a religious call and response on the narrators part and serves to soften things — but have that be the narrator's perspective and choice, not Tyler's. It's pretty heavily repeated in the book. Tyler also requires a "He would not fucking say that" test and I think I've gotten better at his dialogue over time (ex: retroactively, Tyler's dialogue in my psychoactive fish story s u c k s. I mean, it works, but I didn't really have a strong grasp on him at the time and while the actions sound like him, the words and delivery don't. Now though I think my snippets and the dildo fic are pretty strong!) A lot of it is just practice and tuning your ear. Reference the original material and try to dissect it.

Hope this makes sense :) if there's anything specific where you're like "how'd you write that" I can try to answer. Glad you enjoy my blog!

[sciderman]

I was wondering how do you feel about Mark Waids Deadpool: Sins Of The Past mini-series? Outside of it being like a big set-up for Joe Kellys run (or at least the start of it) and a follow up to Circle Chase, do you think it's a good story on it's own and that Waids portrayl of Wade (god that's confusing to said aloud, isn't it?) is one of the good, or possibly better ones?

personally i like it! i don't think it's nearly as strong as circle chase - for me, circle chase is honestly the lightning-in-a-bottle deadpool story. nothing comes close. i don't know why circle chase scratches an itch for me that no other deadpool book came close to, but for me it just struck the right balance of everything.

i also think the art isn't as sexy in sins of the past. it isn't bad, but it's blockish and awkward. and the lines are too thin. i'm a shallow person. 90s comics can be so, so pretty, or so so ugly.

i think sins of the past put the volume up on everything. like i like wade to be a bit pathetic. but sins of the past made him a touch too pathetic. i like wade to be mopey. but sins of the past made him a touch too mopey.

i like wade to be kind of a hopeless romantic... you know, all these things. i don't know, i like a bit, but not too much. like you love a meal, but there's just a little too much salt in it. just a little. and you'd like it more if there were a little less salt. it's very personal. i can't even put a finger on why i like some versions of wade over others. i feel like sins of the past wade talks a lot louder than circle chase wade does. i can hear it when i read it. his voice is louder. and i feel like telling him "use your indoor voice".

circle chase wade is a little more aloof. less high-energy, more quietly grumpy. and i love that.

they double-down on the bouncy, zany looney-tunes-ness of wade wilson in sins of the past, and i don't know, it's a bit loud for me. i think maybe the whole thing is louder - the characters, the action, everything. i think i need them to turn the volume down just a little.

i find it's that way in most of the things i watch or read - i need quiet spaces to breathe. i need panels with less dialogue. i need stories with less plot, so that i can breathe. so that i can just enjoy the moment.

it's a big problem i have with a lot of comics. kelly's run, thankfully, does have some breathing space. even though it's so chaotic in places too. i think i need to reread kelly's run, front-to-back. heck, i think i want to maybe read all of deadpool's stuff in it's entirety, in some chronological order, to try and find some cohesion amongst all the chaos.

[killingsboys]

Hi! What is a zero draft? I'm not sure I've heard that before. But I will also send you some numbers! 31, 33, 36, 37, 39, and 46!

hi anon!!! thank you for asking <33333 i'm gonna answer this one under a read more because it got away from me a bit

omg i am so excited to introduce you to the concept of the zero draft. so a zero draft is sort of like a document that's between an outline and a first draft, and it's almost like an information dump for your WIP. there are no real rules to it but the way i do it is i pretty much just type out everything i'm thinking like i'm talking aloud. so parts of it are actual lines that will probably end up in my wip and then some parts are just like "He says something about fate here, I'll expand the metaphor later." and i'll just go through the entire story like that because it's easier for me to put together something resembling a plot when i'm just talking it out (in a google doc) than when i'm actually trying to "plot" or "outline." i hope this makes sense? if not, this article is very helpful i think! again there are no actual Rules to it, just do whatever works for you! it works for me because of how my brain is but everyone is different of course etc etc <333

31. Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

um probably more the characters? plot does NOT come easily to me and it's a huge fight for me to actually come up with one, i usually start with vague concepts and let the characters propel it forward!

33. Do you want to be published some day?

oh sigh what a question. theoretically yes i would love to actually finish one of my original wips and get it published but in practice there is soooooo much about publishing that i find very frightening. i am not a social media darling and if i wrote a book and it ended up on a booksamillion booktok table i'd do something that got me put on the evening news. but yes i would actually like to like, write something original and put it into the world for people to see one day. theoretically.

36. How do you write kissing scenes?

gonna be honest i usually cringe my way through it. writing physical intimacy is NOT a strength of mine and there are really only so many words you can break out before you start to sound ridiculous. other people are amazing at this but unfortunately all i can really do is throw in some metaphors and try focusing more on the emotions than the physical act.

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

i pretty much just give up at some point... okay that's a bit of a lie. while i do suck at all forms of endings, i do generally (think that i) have a sense for good emotional stopping points. i base my chapter endings wayyyyy more on emotion than actual plot. OH and it also depends on POV. like for instance in deep end i have 3 different POVs happening and sometimes i'll get to a scene and be like wait this should be in someone else's POV so i know i have to close things up for this chapter and start the next one. otherwise though i usually like to stop at a semi-emotional moment so a reader is mostly satisfied but left ready for the next chapter!

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

oh god oh fuck um. here is a bit from deep end !

This must be horrible for you, Enjolras had said. And he wasn’t wrong, not even a bit. Every second of it has been horrible for Grantaire. The way his shoes stuck to the floor of the Corinthe, the bartender’s familiar smile. Enjolras’ chaste pink lips, his half-unbuttoned shirt. The crowded street. The smell of the inside of the taxi. The stairs, Enjolras’ weight against his side, the smell of Enjolras’ breath, Enjolras’ voice in his ear, Enjolras, everything fucking Enjolras. Grantaire wonders if this is another trap, if he’s gotta chew through the bone to get out of it. But he can’t, he knows he can’t. He’s all bled out. Carving his way out of this trap will kill him.  (Staying in the trap will kill him, too, he thinks. But there isn’t really anything else to do about it now.)

46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

is dialogue-driven an option? because my plots are completely driven by dialogue it's kind of ridiculous. otherwise i would say emotionally driven. possibly too emotionally driven. i have a lot of emotions and i like throwing them all at my google doc to see what sticks. unfortunately this results in a lot of suffering for my characters BUT i have fun and that's all that matters!

get to know your fic writer!

[waterspoutskies]

Not if I come for you first 👀 12, 17, 45, 49, 50

I did deserve this one.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I'm going to answer this fic/fandom specific, although if I'm being honest, this question is really drawing a blank for me? I'm not someone who actively thinks about the tropes I'm looking at unless people are discussing them and then I realize "oh, yeah, I hate/love that one!" I spend very very little time on TV tropes and usually only to confirm that something is a trope in the first place. I think since starting reading LU, maybe... Umm, maybe I guess like. TV tropes calls it contrived stupidity tropes? I tolerate a lot more dumbassery in LU content than I would usually in things I read.

Sorry, that one's not much of a question for me! It's just not something I read into much.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

You activated my trap card and the answer is Guardian Wars more of what Nova did in A Blink of an Eye but with the others, I have the plans for it and I will make it happen somehow someday it will occur. It's probably not underappreciated in the slightest but I WILL HAVE IT.

Let's put a cut here shall we?

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

Uh. Ha. Hahahaha. Are you sure you don't want to know what I've regressed on, because that list is much longer.

I guess description? Cause I'm always working on description and it haunts me forever and ever? I guess that counts close enough. The thing is I've loudly and publicly announced on multiple occasions that I use fic as an excuse to not write my highest quality stuff. Some of it may even be considered my lowest quality of effort, based on a relative current standard. I don't have to try and make this neat and readable for an editor so I can bring it to an agent and query, so I actively do not do that, and arguably, brag about that fact.

Take time to be an idiot and throw away your carefully cultivated skills for fun!

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

If anyone did not know what I was working on by now I would be a bit concerned, but since that much is obvious and I've even been reading it aloud for the lucky few, let's skip well past this current chapter and tug at some heartstrings, shall we? I am nothing if not horrifically consistent in my inconsistency of writing coherent and connected scenes to actually complete a chapter.

From a future chapter of Beneath the Skin:

Goddess Farore, let me help them now. He brandished the sword- Their sword- skyward, a beacon of silver and gold in the midst of the tumult around him, and forced his magic into the narrow crevices of tempered steel and stained glass. One. Nothing. Two. A whisper of a gentle voice, a prickle in his brain. Three. Pulling, yanking claws digging into the ball of pure magic in his chest. Four.

He's having a good time.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Did you know that I write literally anything and everything to and with music. I have so much music. I have songs for every character-- Not playlists, I can't keep up with that and my brain doesn't work quite that way-- and thoughts on everything under the sun that connect to each and every detail.

Truthfully, music helps me with emotions-- both the categorization and comprehension of them, and I often use them to try to assist in communicating when I can. If I have song lyrics in my discord status, for example, it probably means something! So I think my deal with needing so much music helps me with connecting and processing emotionally for my various characters and scenes. That said, I don't usually need a specific song to start writing a specific scene, or start writing a specific character POV. It can help a bit, but I'm usually pretty content to just roll through my playlist, on shuffle of course!

The boys tend to have a fair bit of Of Monsters and Men in their inspirations, likely due to the folk influences in the songs, as well as the storytelling woven into OMAM lyrics. Personally, I stick often with Bastille. 14/21 songs on my Breaking B flat music list (this one does have a specific playlist set for it for some in story purposes, I can still write with whatever) are Bastille songs. I also throw a lot of Coldplay around! We love Chris Martin in this house.

Ok, I'm gonna cut it off here but I'm always happy to talk about more music if anyone ever is interested. This is like my favorite thing and it's never on ask lists which is sad.

[verlaines-corner-archive]

aaa i'm sorry i actually haven't sent it until now! forgive me T-T i got caught up with a lot of irl matters

anyways the scenario for our dear Fedya!

Rather than reading his annotated copy of the books he recommends to them, his lover had started buying their own copies recently. Before this, they would read his copies and go through his annotations, wanting to see what thoughts he had throughout the book. There would often be folded sheets of paper in between pages where Fyodor left notes that the margin couldn't contain.

His lover beams when they come across these every now and then. They would have fun trying to read his cursive handwriting, while trying to make out a few words in Russian that he had taught them before. At some point it becomes difficult and their reading session ends up with Fedya offering to read some notes aloud to them. When this happens late in the evenings his voice soothes his lover to sleep, leaving the discussion about the book for the next day.

Now, onto why his lover has recently started buying their own copies. Reading is a part of both of their everyday routine, though it mainly consists of Fyodor sharing his books, which his lover would then read by themselves and discuss their thoughts with him after they've finished the book. They didn't mind doing it this way but they wanted to try something different.

Fyodor didn't think much of it when they started buying their own copies, he didn't mind to be honest. Perhaps they want to add their own annotations this time, he assumed. BUT WAIT — wait until Fyodor finds out that his lover has been planning to surprise him with pressed flowers in between the pages of the books !!! Using some flowers to mark their favourite parts, they also began leaving notes too. By doing it this way, they could give Fyodor their annotated copy of the book. And so from now on, he reads their copy while they read his, both of them doing so together.

🎠 anon

the other day I was going through a pile of pressed flowers that I kept in a notebook and it ultimately lead to this. Writing isn't my strong point and writing for Fyodor's character is a struggle sometimes so this may be ooc but, nonetheless i hope you enjoyed ! Have a lovely day/night :D

All good dear anon, life has a habit of getting hectic haha! I figured it’d be best to just make sure y’know? 

Fyodor and annotation [scenario/thoughts]

I sympathise with your worry about writing Fyodor as ooc dear 🎠 anon, he’s certainly tricky to get down! Though in my interpretation of him (and lord knows how in character that is) sharing annotated books seems right up his alley. 

I think being willing to share his thoughts and actually doing so is a big thing for Fyodor, a sign of trust and maybe even comfort. He likes discussing all manner of things with his s/o, but especially books. He’s fascinated by the way they interpret the stories and their meaning.

Now Fyodor’s annotations are not only very pretty (he’s a man of aesthetics after all) but also rather thoughtful. As you said yourself anon, his lover will often find sheets of paper between the pages because the margins simply weren’t big enough. Usually it’s what he thinks about the events, what he would have done, or even debunking why the characters/authors philosophy is incorrect, but sometimes it’s also just fun facts! Some obscure item is mentioned? Well he’ll be writing about it, telling his lover the origin and its proper use, along with the why of it.

Sometimes there’ll also be sticky notes explaining words he knows his lover might not understand, along with (once again) their origin.

He’s also fond of underlining sentences or sections that remind him of them, and sometimes it’ll even be accompanied with bits of romantic poetry. Also every time they receive one of his books, without fail they'll find a love letter of sorts written on the title page, in his finest penmanship. He is totally not showing off and it is also totally not coded :)

Speaking of codes you’ll find a fair bit of that. That poetry I mentioned before? Yeah have fun. 

Now most of the notes are written in his lover's mother tongue, though he also writes a fair bit in Russian. There are three reasons for that second one, the first being so he doesn’t forget it. The second reason is to help his love become fluent, he uses it as a learning exercise of sorts, and is admittedly rather proud when they figure it out on their own.

The third reason is that he’s a playful bastard and enjoys watching them try to figure out what’s written. It’s like with the coding from earlier, he enjoys challenging them, which is also why sometimes he’ll even change language mid-sentence (though this one is definitely more to annoy them than anything). Hell, he might even write in a language he knows they have no knowledge about just to watch them try and figure it out. 

This might be a little ooc, but he also has a habit of doodling in the books too! Usually it’s music notes or little mice scurrying about on the pages, but sometimes he’ll doodle flowers, mini churches, and other assorted things. 

Now you mentioned Fyodor reading the notes his s/o doesn’t understand aloud to them and I completely agree. Of course he’ll tease his lover for being a quitter but he’s all too eager to curl up in bed and read to them.

When his love starts buying their own copies I can imagine Fedya being a little upset. He likes sharing his copy with them, but as long as they still discuss their thoughts with him afterwards he’s okay with it, and ultimately pays it no mind. 

He definitely suspects that they want to annotate for themselves, and while he's sulky about that too, he’s also happy that they want to do such a thing. So imagine his surprise when they give him their copy, not only annotated but filled with pressed flowers. He’s truly overjoyed, and I feel like it’s more apparent than he thinks it is. 

He ends up collecting all the flowers and keeping them safe and hidden in his desk draw, and with his lover's permission he’ll end up keeping their copy of the book too. They end up being some of his most treasured possessions.

Definitely ends up adoring switching copies and reading them with his love <3

[sewersewersewercouch]

do you have any headcanons for the aquatos?

anon. anon, anon, anon, the reason I've let this ask stew for a little while is that every time I look at it my brain starts vibrating like an exploding washing machine. SO. I'm condensing down to just one or 2 headcanons per family member because if I started going much more than that I just would never stop.

Augustus: he's one of those people who just knows a lot of things. like, he just has a really broad range of knowledge about a lot of things. this is very useful when it comes to the kids' homeschooling. less great is when after he and Dona met she was trying to flirt with him and he panicked and told her cockroaches can live up to a week without a head.

Donatella: I like to think that after pn2 she and Milla are friends. like, at first Dona doesn't trust her because hey, who's this lady acting like a mom to my kid? but alas, it's hard to hold a grudge with Milla for long because she's so damn nice. eventually they get to the point where they're getting lunch together at the noodle bowl and Milla is updating Donatella about her workplace gossip while Dona tells her funny stories about the kids.

also this isn't a headcanon, but I was thinking about how she presumably doesn't believe herself to be cursed the way the rest of the family does, given that she married in? but she is pretty intense about it, and I was wondering why, and then I thought. imagine having the fear of your husband and kids DROWNING TO DEATH hanging over your head all the fucking time. hell, she's probably seen the psychic members of the family get dragged under a few times. that'd fuck you up, huh?

Lucrecia: she is where Razputin gets his love of awful puns. (when they were younger, Cassie and Compton were both subject to no shortage of bee puns she made at them. they put up with it.)

also she 100% teaches the kids Grulovian swear words, to the parents' chagrin. (I have to make funny headcanons about her ok she has been through too much damn angst)

Dion: you know that one deleted line where Dion apologized to Raz and told him was just jealous and that he loved him? Yeah, that happens at some point after the games and you cannot tell me otherwise. give me Raz and Dion working on their shit or give me death.

less serious: Nona frequently reads aloud to the whole family, and Dion is always first to cry at a sad book. he says he just has allergies. he's never been allergic to anything in his life. nobody is fooled.

Frazie: okay, I'm going over the limit I gave myself because I just have Frazie thoughts head empty. she's very neat ok. lighthearted: as I touched on in my post about her and Dion being counselors at Whispering Rock, she's pretty good with young kids. (she doesn't throw things at children who she isn't related to from trees, I promise. adults, occasionally, but who am I to judge?) I also headcanon that the Aquatos have family friends, like, all over the place, and some of them will have Frazie babysit for them if they're ever in the area.

angstier: the reason Frazie stopped using her powers, other than family conflict was because once when she was little she messed up somehow and accidentally really hurt someone in her family. it got dealt with, and they didn't know it was her, but it still scared the crap out of her and she had a huge mental block around it from then on. (wait, "mental block" would be a really good psychonauts enemy--)

self indulgent: she has exactly one conversation with Sasha Nein and immediately he's like "hm. have you ever by any chance been evaluated for ADHD"

Razputin: so obviously I have many Raz thoughts because he's the main character, but the one that comes to mind is that every time he goes to a library, he just sits down in the graphic novel section and reads for hours. (no this isn't something I did as a kid and still do today shhhh I didn't say anything)

Mirtala: really freaked out by spiders. sometimes after the little kids' bedtime you will hear the voice of a little girl from the caravan going "FRAZIIIIIIIEEEEE" like someone just died. Frazie comes rushing in like "oh my god what happened is everything ok" and Mirtala is like "there's a spider :((("

Queepie: not a people person. at all. if they're in a situation with other kids Dona will try to get him to play with them and he's just like "no!!!" turns out he actually gets along better with older kids, because he's just. way smarter than most kids his age. hence why he gets along with Morris pretty well.

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office. 

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance. 

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning. 

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight. 

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung." 

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them. 

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N." 

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now." 

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you." 

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung." 

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-" 

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?" 

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged. 

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear. 

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of. 

"It was me." 

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?" 

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold." 

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?" 

"Just said that." 

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that." 

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same. 

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting. 

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie." 

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could." 

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling." 

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me." 

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him? 

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to. 

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?" 

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it." 

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either." 

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?" 

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me." 

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored." 

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on. 

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him. 

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer." 

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings." 

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then." 

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?" 

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me." 

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints. 

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?" 

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail." 

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?" 

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then." 

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office. 

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?" 

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up. 

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you." 

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung.  "The chief said he'll be here by eleven." 

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement. 

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?" 

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?" 

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes." 

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated. 

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue. 

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men. 

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung. 

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright." 

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?" 

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes." 

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused. 

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago." 

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get. 

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it." 

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.  

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming. 

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?" 

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun." 

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung." 

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night." 

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew. 

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them. 

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight." 

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that." 

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything. 

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked. 

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class,  the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then. 

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal. 

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that. 

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then. 

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that? 

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom. 

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore. 

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do." 

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit." 

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?" 

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you. 

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges. 

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?" 

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change. 

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-" 

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no." 

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no." 

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please." 

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man. 

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away. 

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you. 

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks. 

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget. 

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only. 

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated. 

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people. 

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you. 

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more. 

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you." 

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him. 

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing. 

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision. 

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone. 

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good. 

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go." 

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you. 

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well." 

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me." 

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well. 

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please." 

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief. 

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now." 

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way. 

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face. 

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir." 

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?" 

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years." 

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well." 

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir." 

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out." 

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside. 

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be. 

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now." 

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly. 

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief. 

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen. 

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window.  "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop. 

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep." 

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?" 

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it." 

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning. 

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough. 

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be. 

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail." 

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it." 

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free? 

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself." 

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now." 

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did." 

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears. 

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. 

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this." 

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too." 

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn. 

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation. 

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free. 

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support. 

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please." 

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear. 

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best." 

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room. 

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?" 

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her. 

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out." 

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly. 

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?" 

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?" 

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman. 

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you." 

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours. 

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments. 

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there. 

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you. 

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder. 

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well." 

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae." 

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive. 

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day. 

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now." 

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much." 

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies. 

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?" 

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?" 

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?" 

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over." 

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead. 

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought. 

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

[maxwell-grant]

I'm reading some Shadow comics I bought on Comixology forever ago and had never gotten around to - originally I was going to mention I read the Howard Chaykin feature in "The Shadow #100" and that his version of that guy indeed sucks real bad. However, the chapter after his by Michael Uslan? I'm obviously not that well-read on the character, but this simply MUST be the most bonkers Shadow story ever told.

Oh God, THAT story. I know which one you’re talking about because I only just recently saw that it was written by Michael Uslan, which put a lot of it into perspective. I don’t know if it’s THE most bonkers Shadow story ever told but it’s definitely a runner up for the most comically absurd

To briefly summarize it to those of you who don’t know of it: The story starts with the Wayne murders except The Shadow kills the mugger before he shoots them. While he’s telling the dad “Bruce Thomason” (lol) how he’s going to repay him by one day performing a mission unquestioningly, he gets unreasonably pissed off about Bruce the kid telling him he recognizes him from the radio show, and then he points the finger at the child and swears that he will put an END to this and,

I don’t think Uslan understands just how funny it is the idea of The Shadow dramatically declaring war on his own radio program, I’ll post the sequence below because it’s super fucking funny

You’d think that he would do this by telling the producers or writers or the owners of the radio station to stop producing The Shadow radio show, or maybe just file a lawsuit and C&D but no, he goes on about by, of course,

Cornering Orson Welles in an elevator (even shouting YOU! when he enters it) and telling him to quit the show and use his talents for something else, and then we get this exchange

After basically telling him to get fucked and do it anyway, he dissappears, and then Orson walks outside and overhears a newsboy shouting about something Hearst did, and then he reads the paper and wonders aloud “Hmm...rosebuds?” and then the final panel is him looking behind him as The Shadow’s laugh appears.

...............................

Okay so, I don’t know if you’ve ever read any of the other comics Uslan’s written with pulp characters or Detective 27, because this shows up a lot in those too. He reeeally likes historical references and takes a lot of detours to include them into the stories. And sometimes it’s a little neat, sometimes it’s unintentionally kind of funny, and sometimes it’s pretty obnoxious, and it happens a lot, like entire plot points devoted to in-references (the climax of Dark Nights hinges on a superweapon powered by Blue Coal). 

And this story is definitely the worst offender in that regard because the whole thing only exists as an excuse to tie The Shadow to Orson Welles and Citizen Kane because Orson voiced him on radio. It’s not the first time a Shadow comic devoted time to a storyline based on the radio show and Orson Welles but it’s by far the goofiest of the bunch, and it’s already a goofy excuse for a story.

(I generally don’t like to be too negative on Uslan’s stories, but man he writes a terrible Margo, and the bar is not very high as is)

And yeah, Uslan has a tendency to write The Shadow’s dialogue and character like he’s paging Doctor Doom. I kinda get where he’s coming from in that he knows that a big part of the character’s appeal hinged on him being the hero with the charisma and personality of a villain and dialogue-wise The Shadow is already closer to the way characters like Doctor Doom or Magneto talk, than the way Batman does. I thought Dark Nights had a pretty good characterization for The Shadow overall, but in this story and in Justice Inc he reeeally pushes it overboard to the point of self-parody, you can almost hear the Doctor Orpheus musical sting everytime he talks. I think it’s more funny than anything but it doesn’t particularly help the story’s more serious moments. 

A similar thing happened in Dynamite’s Masks 1 and 2 which was crossing over dozens of pulp heroes, all of whom were basically interchangeable in personality except for The Shadow, who was extremely committed to his catchphrases and pithy quotations, and to never stop being the most extra motherfucker of the room. 

QUESTION: If memory serves, a while ago, in a story teaming Green Hornet, Kato, the Spider and others, you said you really enjoyed scripting the Shadow's dialogue in particular. What is it about the Shadow that makes him different from other noir characters?

Chris Roberson: With those other “masked avenger” pulp types, their masked identities are an act, at least in part. Underneath the hat and mask they are regular guys with relatable motivations. With the Shadow, the guy in the hat and scarf IS the real guy, and his motivations and feelings are largely kept from us. When we see him in his “civilian” identity, THAT is an act. 

So there’s a kind of brutal simplicity to his dialogue. He is what he appears to be, and says exactly what he means.

While obviously that story from #100 is completely batshit and I’m not particularly a fan of Justice Inc exaggerating him into Shadow the Hedgehog to make Doc Savage more of a boyscout (which tends to happen in crossovers with the two), I mentioned before that I’m not really adverse to The Shadow’s overdramatic antics being played for comedy. I do like bringing up some of the goofier stuff that was in the pulps, or the radio show. I keep telling you guys that The Shadow can be remarkably funny even in otherwise serious stories without breaking character.

He’s gotta have a good sense of humor to be laughing all the time like that.

[rplayford02]

Week 6-8: Final Drafting

We have a final draft!

Week 6 was the second round of script tutorials. Joe and Demelza made some good points which we've tried to take on board. There were formatting issues which we knew about, we needed a title page etc but there were also larger issues: the script was really confusing to follow, there was nowhere near enough action happening during the narration and also we needed to decide who's story it was that we were telling. (It wasn’t all negative, there was some positive feedback as well - e.g the narrator's sarcastic tone comes across well.)

Kate's feedback that she sent over last week reiterated many of the same problems. I made some notes and me and Robbie tried to implement all the improvements best as we could - although we're remaining stubborn on the whole names thing, sorry.

so, who's story is it?

I made some rudimentary character arc diagram things to just help myself figure out what 'journey' (for want of a better word) each character was going on from the beginning to the end of the film. Figured out that the protagonist seeks closure, begins in his own head, learns to get out of it and by the end 'hears' his ex's point of view. The ex/narrator seeks to set the record straight, begins cynical and resentful, and learns to see things from the protagonists point of view. So I guess there isn't a clear main character. No doubt ambiguity will be our downfall but we've got to continue that group 7 tradition right..?!? No, I'm pretty sure it's the protagonist's story. The audience should experience this with him, the film begins and end with him, it's his moment of realisation that we conclude on.

too much talking, too little action

A fair criticism. We want to have moments of no action but yeah in the first draft there were way too many of these moments. Robbie and I have gone back over it and added in subtle actions - e.g fiddling with a lighter - as well as filling in all the gapping holes to explain what's actually supposed to be happening on screen e.g the friend reads aloud from a book. We were also missing character and setting descriptions... whoops. There are still moments with little action but Robbie has ideas for camera movements to fill the stillness. And with interesting production design we shouldn't have a problem making it visually interesting.

[I looked as Wes Anderson scripts for inspo since he's known for using lots of narration and yeah, fair enough, the narration and description is well balanced.]

drugs in a student film...? so original guys

Ok so yes, but that's kind of the point of the friend character. We've tried to up the comedy and plan to take the performance to the extreme so hopefully it will land? It's only a few throwaway jokes but maybe we are trying to cram too much into a 8min film. Idk I'd rather be ambitious and make these mistakes. We condensed the drug stuff very slightly anyways.

where's the ex?

The criticism was that she doesn't appear until halfway through the film, but she does. She's in the film the whole way through in the form of the narrator, even if the audience only see this in retrospect. Sure, we spend a lot of time with the friend but we're setting up this expectation of what the film will be before attempting to subvert it. If you knew the ex was the narrator from the start I don't think it would work as well (not that anyone was suggesting this tbf.) Her scenes are brief because this is the protagonist's story at the end of the day. Visually, we spend the time with him in his reality whilst the ex interjects only with her voice. I think it works....????

It was also confusing to follow. We weren't sure how to fix this.

I feel like maybe we've stuck to our guns a little too much. But it's tricky once you get attached to an idea, it becomes difficult to give up on your original vision. I definitely appreciate the critiques though! They really helped us to sit back down and reevaluate what we were trying to do with the script in the first place. Hopefully it will come together in the final film even if the screenplay is still slightly confusing to read?? - I guess it just comes with practice right??

That being said there are parts of the script (dialogue & descriptions) that I’m actually almost dare I say maybe possibly even proud of….?! I still struggle with story, writing a coherent plot of still alien to me but idk I actually kind of enjoyed writing all the inbetween stuff. I mean I write as a hobby but sharing it with people… ewwww. It’s such a personal thing, when you get criticism on a script it feels like a critique of your imagination or creativity as much as a critique of a skill and I’m still getting used to it.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Random writing question - have you ever tried/wanted to try any other forms of writing besides novels and short stories (playwriting, screen writing, poetry, etc.)?

Well, I've obviously done flash fiction and novellas/novelettes, but it's pretty clear you mean "other than prose fiction."

But the answer is still yes!

First off, you have to remember that I majored in creative writing in college, and creative writing at my college did not mean "prose fiction."

I don't especially care for poetry and read very little of it (there's a few poets I like, but the form isn't super appealing to me), so while I have a bunch of (very bad) lyrics I wrote in high school and some poems for various classes....it's generally all very bad because I don't read enough of it to get good. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid taking poetry classes in college.

But the way I got out of writing poetry class in college was taking Screenwriting instead. I have a bunch of notebooks with scripts from middle school and high school of my characters doing interviews or something, and I've had to write stage plays for classes (drama classes...). I think I was pretty good at screenwriting for a beginner, or at least I adapted to the form well. I actually adapted one of my own novellas for a screenplay for class, which then got read aloud at a table read in front of my entire class because my teacher liked it so much. It, uh, was a gay YA romance, so that was embarrassing, but it's not like many of my classmates hadn't been forced to read that before from me for workshops. I enjoy screenwriting a lot, but I don't know what to do with it. I know nothing about that industry at all, and scripts require such a specific format that I'd have to upload a PDF online to even be readable...and I don't know where I'd host the PDF. So while I find it fun, I don't really indulge in it a lot anymore because I don't even know what I'd do with any of it, ever.

I also had to take Creative Nonfiction in college...memoirs, personal essays, things like that. I didn't find it very fun in college, but I think that may have been at least partially the professor. Because, guess what! I find it pretty fun now.

Obviously, I write a lot of lit crit and meta-type things on this blog. I find that fun, too! I love writing essays about topics I care about. It's nonfiction prose, but I think I'm quite good at it and can write it well and be entertaining with it.

I also like roleplaying. My dad actually taught me Dungeons & Dragons when I was about five or so...old enough to read (I started reading independently when I was about 3), but not so old I really had a lot of other options lol. And he taught me others as well. It's not always writing, but it's a form of storytelling that I enjoy engaging in with others. And of course, roleplays and tandem stories with friends may sometimes look like novels or short stories, but so often they come in other forms, and I just. Find that kind of writing so much fun. It's like taking my favorite toy out and playing with it with a friend.

Also when I was in middle school, I very much wanted to write a manga or graphic novel, and have a few pages of very-poorly drawn manga. A few friends and I even threw around names for a CLAMP-style mangaka group (obviously this never went anywhere).

I'm a copyeditor for a living at the moment, but I would not be opposed to writing marketing copy, either, although I've done it only very rarely and usually in the form of queries for my own novels. And wiki-documents, which I once did for a role-playing game called Dawn of Civilizations—which is yet another very different format for creative writing, since I was making up an entire culture and country, in the form of a wiki document. I'm a pretty good mimic and chameleon of different writing formats and styles (which is likely part of why I'm so good at character voice as well), and it's fun to stretch my muscles there a bit

So, uh, yeah. I really just like writing and story-telling in...well, most forms they come in. I just. Really like it.

A lot.

[spicycreativity]

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously.  Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

--

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

--

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

[capri-ramblings]

I haven't written in a while and this is literally my first fic writing for Twisted Wonderland, so it's a bit dry and boring but after playing one of @malleusthorns 's click and drag game i just had to write something with my result lmao.

Lilia is a character I've yet to get to know so forgive me if he's a bit ooc here (╯︵╰,) anyways hope this isn't So bad since I'm planning to write a bunch of others •́ ‿ ,•̀

Thanks again to malleusthorn for this spark of inspo (probably ruined by my horrible writing)

* * * *

Things happened so fast, I didn't think I got any of it at all until I was blinded by darkness. Shoved into a closet with someone I've only ever met once, all the while the people I call my friends snickered behind the door that separates us.

I shifted in the closet, a habit whenever I got nervous.

Lilia shifted as well but I couldn't see him until a small green light appeared and his face was illuminated by it.

He had a small smile on his lips, his features ethereal and youthful resembling a porcelain doll made with precise skills. Really, I might be exaggerating, but Lilia had an eternal feel to his demeanor, as if his beauty came from countless lifetimes.

He tilted his head then, the ball of green light in his palm glistening. I realized then he had said something and I was just staring at him.

"Uh,sorry, did you say something, Lilia-senpai?", I tried my best not to sound flustered but given our situation, I'm pretty sure half of the school would know I was losing composure.

Damn that Ace and Grimm, next time Azul gives you anemones, I'd let Floyd squeeze you dry before helping again.

"Hmm, you seem troubled", he said slightly airy yet thoughtful. "You know usually whenever I'm troubled with something I sing a song to help me think, would you like me to teach you a song to sing?"

His eyes were wide and genuine then, like a clear crystal filled with thoughts brimming with eccentricity. Lilia at the moment, kinda reminded me of a kid rather than a senior.

"Ah! You're smiling!" He leaned in closer as his lips curled into a smile as well.

"Hey, your smile is a wonderful thing to see! If that was the case, you should smile more often!"

"Ahahaha...even when I'm forced to do things I don't really want to do at first but I can't really refuse cause Principal Crowley would use my freeloading existence here as blackmail?" I closed my eyes and crossed my arms, feigning a thinking gesture. "I'll give it a try"

Lilia laughed then,so full and warm it took me by surprise. His hands came to hold my shoulders,giving it a friendly shake.

"Hahahaha! That's the spirit! You have a good sense of humour too!"

"...Huh, anyways, Lilia-senpai, are you okay with this?" He looked at me, eyes shifting from enthusiastic to curious. His smile didn't fade when he spoke.

"With what?"

"Um, this seven minutes in heaven thing. I know I'm kinda the last person you'd wanna hang with for seven minutes of your life"

"Hmm,is that so?" Something in his gaze shifted then,a mist of thought I couldn't catch in time. It wasn't unsettling,though I felt a chill ran up my spine anyway.

"And why would you say that,little lantern?"

"L-Little lantern..?"

"Ahahaha! It suits you doesn't it? Your smile just now reminded me of a lantern I saw long ago"

"Well... It's cute, I guess"

His eyes closed, that same warm chirp of a laugh coming from him again. "Say, why wouldn't I want to spend seven minutes of my time with you?" He asked, pretty close to me, maybe a bit too close. I let out a dry laugh, and gestured dismissively with my hand.

"Well,for a start I'm not really the most interesting person in this school."

"I think I can beg to differ,little lantern. You're someone without magic, a child of man, and yet the black carriage carried you here to this school and for months now you've been able to make due with whatever is thrown your way,despite what has been thrown your way, and you do it with a clear conscience too." He tilted his head again, eyes glistening like the light he held so gracefully In the palm of his hands. At that moment, I thought I was looking at something very ancient.

"O-Oh...I didn't really see it that way.." I shuffled back, attempting to create distance, but my back collided against the door.

"Ah,sorry I was taking up a lot of space, wasn't I?" Lilia laughed but his gaze fixated on me as if searching for something before it didn't and we were back to staring at each other, not really knowing what to say.

'Man,and I thought those leech twins were hard to read..'

"Say, wouldn't you like to know how to use magic?"

"Huh?"

"You really like spacing out don't you? Little lantern if you don't keep your guard up something might happen with the little time we have now"

"...What exactly could happen?"

"Hmm, I wonder what could happen"

"That's why I asked—"

Lilia took hold of my hand then, bringing up to his face.

"We have a few minutes left, you wanna try your luck?"

"I don't know. Are you gonna turn me into a toad or something"

"Eh? You're a funny one indeed, little lantern. Here,first I'll do this" Lilia placed his hand underneath mine, holding it so my palm was open, then he let his gaze bore into it before a warm sensation began pooling on my hand. A faint sense of power enveloping it.

"Wha... Lilia-senpai—"

"Eh,what a nice reaction. There, try it!"

He let his grasp turn loose and I pulled my hand away, inspecting it like it wasn't even my own hand. Somehow,it felt different...

Lilia kept his eyes on me, a smile in both his gaze and on his lips. I looked back at my hand, sighed.

"Yolo,right?" I smiled back at him.

"Eh,Yolo?"

"Ah, nevermind. What should I do by the way? I'm kinda clueless here..."

"Hmm,maybe try floating something, that's a basic skill I'm sure you'll get right off the bat!"

My gaze searched around the room then,all the while I was wondering how I got into this situation in the first place. Why was there even a party at this hour? Ugh, this school will be the death of me, I swear.

I sighed again, and at that moment I felt something crawl up onto my leg.

I locked eyes with Lilia who was still staring at me, his hand was still holding the green light.

Ah,so it's not him?

I stiffened.

"...Lilia-senpai?"

"Hm,is something the matter, Little lantern?"

My lips parted, and the crawling came again. Goosebumps greeted my whole body.

"Little Lantern,are you okay?"

I clenched my teeth. "I think there's something climbing on my leg...!" The words came out in a hurry and had Lilia widening his gaze before he looked down and seemed like he wanted to crouch with the light to see better but I grabbed at his hand, sweating.

"Don't move! What if you make it crawl faster?"

"Then how am I supposed to help you?"

"Use your magic!"

He chuckled,his free hand coming up to slightly cover his mouth. "Isn't the light I'm using now part of my magic?"

Then he really did crouch down, the light illuminating my lower half. I closed my eyes before it had a chance to trail down, but once silence stilled in the room. I desperately wanted to scream.

"Lilia-senpai..?"

"Don't move." His voice lost it's friendliness. A brusque shift from light to authoritive in mere seconds. I shut my eyes even harder, skin crawling with goosebumps. Lilia didn't answer, instead straightening his body before he looked me in the eyes.

"Everything's okay, just don't move. I'll get rid of that thing on your leg"

"What thing?" I asked,panic lacing my words. I wanted to cringe so bad but the fear of not knowing what was latching onto me had me frozen in place.

"Nothing I can't handle"

"That's not really comforting..."

"I'm your senior aren't I?" He said then, smiling gently at me again with the same warmth from before. "Even if we're from different dorms, I wouldn't hurt someone under my care"

I nodded my head,flustered once more. "Okay"

I expected some monster to be illuminated by Lilia's light and him destroying it with his magic students from other dorms talk about with astonishment.

What I didn't expect was for him to suddenly let out a yelp and the room going dark once more as I felt his body tumble ontop of me and the door to the closet opening, causing both of us to stumble out with a loud thud as we fell to the ground.

The light seemed to burn my eyes, but my chest and back held more pain from the fall.

Ace's voice reached me first.

"Wowie, someone got excited,huh?"

"Kantokusei! Are you alright?" Came Deuce's voice next and a couple of other murmurs.

The weight from Lilia was gone and as I sat up to answer both Ace and Deuce, from the darkened closet something flew out and smacked me right in the face.

Ace and Deuce let out panicked screams while I fell onto my back again, my face throbbing.

"Ara Ara, it seems like I missed" It was Lilia, and he was already on his feet, looming over my fallen figure. He was smiling but his eyes held worry in them as he reached out a hand for me to grab.

"The door opened so suddenly, if it didn't, I doubt the flip flop would've hit you, Little lantern"

"What the hell just happened?" Ace said aloud, his eyes wide as he stared at us both. Deuce had helped me up along with Lilia and actually had Grim run off to get me a drink, but my gaze went to Lilia first who was repeating apologies with his eyes.

"Kantokusei,are you okay? That flip flop really went and smack you..."

I smiled, a sudden amusement bubbling in my throat. I stared at Lilia who seemed to glow with hidden laughter as well and nodded my head. Slightly laughing when the words leave my mouth.

"The next round,we're shoving Ace in the closet alone"

"Eh? Why?" Deuce looked concerned, his face scrunched up with confusion. Lilia laughed, tilting his head to the side.

"It's alright, he won't be alone in there,right, Little Lantern?"

[marybethsjournal]

I love what you've written so far and I wondering if you could write me a little Mary-Beth story please? 👉👈

I'm thinking perhaps some fluff where she's getting ready for a date or is on the date. (Any gender reader or a gang member of your choice - i don't mind)

Or if you have something else you'd like to write for her, I'd love to see it

A Proper Lady

Summary: One shot where Mary Beth is getting ready for a date, accompanied by Karen and Tilly

Word Count: 1285

A/N: I didn’t name Mary Beth’s S/O and used the pronoun “they” so you can all use whatever character or OC you ship Mary Beth with. I will be working on the second part of this ask where Mary Beth goes on her date as soon as I can. I hope you like this well enough @fangirl-ramblings!

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883408

“Oh Tilly, I’m so excited!” Mary Beth danced around the hotel room, twirling the bottom of her dress. She felt like a princess. She was going on her first ever proper date. She was just like one of the women in the romance novels she read now. Finally, she was being doted upon and treated like she deserved. It was almost more excitement than she could handle.

Of course she had bought a new dress for the occasion. Well maybe she had bought a few more things than just a dress. But shoes, makeup, and a new hairpin were essentials! Besides, it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. She had asked Miss Grimshaw if she could spend the money beforehand. Karen had laughed at her for having to ask before she spent money, but Mary Beth really didn’t feel like crossing Grimshaw. Well, she tried to refrain from crossing anyone in general. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that she looked so beautiful in this new dress and would look even better when she got her hair and makeup done. “I know! And you’re gonna tell me all about it afterwards, right?” Tilly asked her excitedly. “Of course “I’m not sure if it’s very ladylike to kiss and tell” Mary Beth said without thinking before quickly realizing her mistake, “Not that I’m going to be kissing them! Okay, I will tell you what happens.” Mary Beth continued, blushing. “That’s the spirit. Since you’re going to be kissing,” Tilly teased, “let’s get you made up for the occasion.” Tilly guided her to the bed and sat her down. Mary Beth wanted to keep twirling and dancing, but she knew she had to sit down to get her makeup done. It was a hard task given how excited she was, but sitting still would be better for her in the long run. “You know,” Karen piped up, sitting at the top of the bed, smoking a cigarette, “If they need you to wear makeup to take you out, they’re a piece of shit.” “Oh Karen, you know they’re not like that! I just want to get all done up. I don’t get many occasions that I can wear stuff like this.” “Ok, I’m just saying if I see anything out of line, they have to answer to me.” Karen puffed out her chest. Mary Beth giggled. “Stop it! They always tell me I look beautiful no matter what. You just want to look tough! Come here and help me with this.” Mary Beth pointed to all the cosmetic products sat next to her. “What’s so hard about it? You slap some of that here and there and then you’re done.” Karen crawled over to the end of the bed where Mary Beth was and began pointing to the makeup and Mary Beth’s face to illustrate how she should “slap it on” “Karen! There’s an art to it,” Tilly sighed. “Don’t worry Mary Beth, I won’t let her near your face.” Tilly assured her friend, patting her arm. The girls gossiped about this and that while Tilly patted brightening powder all over Mary Beth’s face and subsequently patted the bright rouge onto her cheeks. Mostly, though, they spoke of Mary Beth’s sweetheart. Mary Beth had always tried to be the most cheerful out of the girls but no one in the camp had seen her as genuinely happy as she was now. A smile was on her face almost always and she tended to dance, sing, and have a general lightness about her just about everywhere she went. The young woman had long dreamed of a fairy tale romance and now someone was finally treating her the way she deserved. It was no wonder that Mary Beth gushed about her new “lover” with such a passion, she was being treated with the utmost respect and care. “I wonder what they’ll wear?” Mary Beth wondered before swiftly adding, “Not that it matters. They’re such a dream.” Karen laughed at the very obviously swooning girl. “Keep all that romantic talk in the book you’re writing about them.” Mary Beth blushed. She was, in fact, working on a novel based on her own life and true to the traditional Mary Beth fashion, it was romance. Karen laughed at the way Mary Beth wrote about her sweetheart but she was probably just jealous. Who wouldn’t want to be treated the way she was now? It was a relationship worthy of the most sweet and cheery of romance novels. “Leave her alone. It’s not like Sean would ever do something so sweet for you.” Tilly sassed. Karen huffed but the words shut her up. The topic turned to the future as Tilly applied the copper eyeshadow to Mary Beth's eyelids. “So, you see a future with them, huh?” Tilly giggled nervously at her own question. Talk of the future was usually more than they could afford. “I think so! I mean, I hope so. I want to feel like this for the rest of time, cliche as that sounds. And I really like them.” Mary Beth’s smile grew bigger during the last sentence. She had had many crushes throughout her life. After all, she went through life seeing romance in anything. But this was something deeper. There was definitely a spark. “You think you could love them?” Karen blurted out. “Karen!” Tilly scolded. “Yeah.” Mary Beth responded sheepishly. Karen couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see her friend so happy and secure. She might not be the most in touch with any and all of her feelings, but Karen cared about Mary Beth. “Tilly you can let me do the lipstick. I know how to do makeup.” Karen, feeling left out, informed Tilly. “I don’t know…” Tilly was reluctant but ultimately there was nothing she could do once Karen had snatched the red lipstick off the bed and opened the cap. “Fine, just don’t mess it up. She needs to be gone within the hour! But at least this gives me the opportunity to start on her hair.” “We’re already in town, I think we’ll be alright. What are you supposed to be doin’ on this date anyway?” “Dinner and a show, I think. But you know them, they always have something or another up their sleeve.” Mary Beth answered, the voice of adoration not wavering. “Wonder who’s performing in the show.” Tilly wondered aloud, skillfully her friend’s hair. “I already asked around, couldn’t contain myself. Miss Marjorie was her name, I think.” Mary Beth cautiously recited the name, not sure if she had gotten it right. “Oh I know her! The one with the two buffoons!” Karen laughed, standing back and admiring her work with lipstick. It did look pretty good, way better than expected for Karen. “Don’t call them that! I’m sure they're lovely!” Mary Beth defended the strangers. “Let’s not start a fight, hey?” Tilly clapped her hands together. “Go look in the mirror, I think you look stunning!” Mary Beth stood up and walked up to the mirror, gasping when she saw her reflection. “Is that me?” “Of course it’s you! It’s a goddamn mirror.” Karen sighed, taking the words seriously. “Shut up, Karen.” Tilly hit Karen playfully. “I look like a proper lady.” Mary Beth twirled in her emerald dress and admired her hair.  This was all too much, she was going to cry happy tears. This was just how she envisioned ladies in all her romance novels. And now this was her. “Oh don’t get emotional, let’s get you on your date. Stay safe and make good choices!” Karen pushed Mary Beth out of the hotel room and led her towards her date.

[oingo233]

I am loving how much thought you're putting into these ship requests ❤ so I thought I'd ask too!

I'm a heterosexual Ravenclaw female. I like to read and write. I used to peer tutor. I like to laugh. My sense of humor is pretty sarcastic. I like to play board games and watch movies and TV. I like being outside but just to relax and enjoy the weather. No camping or serious hiking for me lol. I have green eyes and dark blonde hair. Think you could do a ship for both ears? If not whichever you want is fine. 😊

You sound so awesome!  (Total side note: but yall or too cool for me wtf I just adore you) I kinda went off with the marauders ship, and since I wrote so much for it I decided not to do the Lightning Era ship, which I hope you don’t mind, but if you really want one just let me know and I’ll get to it.  Also sorry this took me forever, I’m the worst at posting/writing.  But I hope you enjoy it! <3 

Anyways, based off of everything here is what I think....

Marauders Era

I ship you with James Potter...

- He saw you were giving peer tutoring lessons so he lied and said he needed “loads of help.  Please, you’d be doing me a huge favor.  I’ll pay ya back?” he’d say with a wink, you’d roll your eyes and fight your smile because truth be told him and his friends always made you laugh with their pranks and you were always a little curious about this charming and handsome boy.

- You agree, in the name of education and graciousness of course.  No other reason... none at all.  Definitely not because he smelled good, and you knew he was passing that class with flying colors and so he had to be into you too, right?

- He was, oh god he was so into you.  He spent more time staring at you than the books you used to study.  It was often you’d look up to see if he was “registering” the information and he’d just be gazing up at you through his glasses, mouth slightly agape in a smile.  You’d blush and ask him an on-topic question, he’d answer correctly and you’d only blush more.

- He always made you laugh till your stomach was in knots and the two of you were kicked out of the library.  It was one of those time when he asked you out on your guy’s first “date”.

- The two of you were standing outside the library doors, cheeks flushed and eyes alight with humor.  He told the worlds best story about his first time on a broom, and how he thought he could fly into outer-space and bring back a star for his mom. (he was very little and didn’t know any better, his dad of course was right next to him and raced after him, but James was so fast.  Afterwards at dinner they scowled him, but knew he would be just great at quidditch.)

- “But it’s all true, all of it,” he says, laughing as you shake your head in disbelief.  He is walking beside you as you two wander the halls, not sure where to go but not wanting to part from one another. “But I’ll tell you, nothing has ever made me feel so free.  Just flying like that, nothing can hold you back.” he says, a large smile on his face.  You smile up at him and his heart nearly drops.

- “Sounds nice,” You mutter, only half paying attention to your own words because James looked so kissable then.  He smiled wider and walked closer to you, blushing as his nerves took over.  “I could teach ya?  If ya want, of course.” He asks you.  Without hesitation you say yes.

- That weekend you spend the whole Saturday together, learning, it seems as though he was the tutor now.  You nearly fell off the broom from laughing so hard, and James’s face would genuinely twist with worry when you would try new moves, he wouldn’t want you getting hurt.  The weather was just wonderful and the brisk breeze caressed your skin, yet the sun kept you warm.

- It was on that beautiful day, that you two laid back on the field of grass to rest and enjoy the weather, he leaned over and kissed you.  You were in shock and he almost pulled away, ready to apologies and die from embarrassment but then you started kissing him back and he found something he for sure liked more than flying...you.

- You two fell in love and have been dating ever since.  His sense of humor is both terrible amazing puns, and sarcasm so you two are always laughing your hearts out with the rest of the Marauders or even just alone.

- You two play board games a lot because he actually started to like them around the same time he found out you did (coincidence...I think not). When you two played together he’d get so into it, he’d just stare down at the board and figure out his next move, giving you perfect time to admire him in silence.  He truly was beautiful.  You’d see his glasses inch down his nose, and he’d slowly push them back up, still focused.

- Whenever you let him win (rarely) he’d would boast about it all day, but it made him so happy you learned to sit there and take it, you knowing the truth about your mad skills was enough.  Sirius and Remus knew it too.

- He’d always watch movies and TV with you, but only if you two were cuddled up.  It’s the only thing that helped him stay still long enough to really get lost in and take in the film.  His fav cuddle positions were when you’d lay in-between his legs, ontop of him, and cuddle your head on his chest, you were so warm and he’d play with your hair and give you forehead kisses .  

- Or, his all time fav cuddle was when it was switched, and he was laying atop your chest.  He loved how he could hear your heartbeat, and feel when you laugh.  You also just run your hands through his hair and if he isn’t careful he could just fall asleep like that, zenned out and warm.

- Since you like being outside so much, but no hard activities (gurl, same!) he would always set up a picnic for the two of you.  Outside on nice days, he’d cover your eyes and lead you across campus to this spot beneath a nice, shady tree.  Lying underneath it would be a blanket, your favorite book and foods, and some pillows.  He’s let you lay your head in his lap and he’d read aloud to you.  He’d put on voices for the characters and make sarcastic commentary that always made you laugh.

- During quidditch matches he gave you his spare jersey to wear and begged you to “Just for one day, be a Gryffindor.  I’ll give ya me jersey, splash some face paint on ya, and no one will tell the difference.” because he’d want for you to sit with Remus, and Sirius and Peter and cheer him on, because then he wouldn’t have to look all over the stands for his favorite group of cheerleaders.  You always kissed him before a match for good luck, he swears by it.

- But he also loved that you were a Ravenclaw.  He admired your intelligence, wit and creativity the most and it wasn’t like you were lacking the Gryffindor traits that he took so much pride in.  He also liked the different perspective you could give him on situations considering your different houses really shaped you both individually and he spent a lot of time with fellow Gryffindors.

- He’d pull the best puppy eyes to convince you to let him read whatever you are writing.  He adores every word you put on paper and even asks to keep his favorite story of yours that you’ve written so he can read it over summer.

- Overall, you both love and support one another so much!  And it was a match made by cupid himself aka me

I hope you liked this!

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

Ah yes, the time has come.

It's time to get your pen and paper because class is in session!

There's plenty of things I could talk about and I pretty much covered the basics down below, but I'm more than willing to help y'all out with anything specific!

I have to preface that I'm not an English major by any means nor do I have any experience writing professionally, the things listed below are purely based on my opinions and submissions I have received.

Writing is forever a learning process, there really isn't a right way of writing but there are definitely some things that will hinder your readers. Here is a list that I compiled both with my own experiences as well as some user submitted issues when it comes to reading works:

•Big blocks of text

° Typos/wrong word usage

•Using the same words

°Too spaced out/not indented where needed

• Dialogue runs into normal sentences

° Speakers/POVs change without notice

• Inconsistencies, either in general or story inconsistencies

°Lack of description/Too much description

• Bland/Artificial actions/dialogue

° Misuse of punctuation/lack thereof

• Capitalization errors

° Long winded sentences

• Using italics for actions

° Confusing formating

• Changing in Tenses

° Using wrong tags/falsely advertising (ex. Reader x Blank should have Y/N, not an OC/Authors name)

• Author notes/comics/pictures in middle of fic

° "~This is a transition~"

• Forcing a character to be OOC for sake of story

° Filler characters

• Not sticking to a specific genre/jumpy moods

Now don't be intimidated by this list! Some of these are pretty self explanatory so I won't go into a few of them. There are plenty of ways to avoid these and in some cases it is perfectly fine to use any of the above. 

Let's start off with the basics!

Sentence structure is the backbone of writing, but it's a very flexible rule. Obviously you have your subject, verb, object and whatnot, but the true art lies in word choice and length.

When it comes to sentences, size does matter. If your sentences are too short they will seem choppy and unfinished, whereas if they are long they will seem winded and unnatural. The biggest tool you can use to find out if a sentence is too short/long is by reading it aloud! If you run out of breath it's too long but if you finish abruptly it's too short.

Word choice is my favorite weapon to work with, I could describe a blue jay as a normal bird or as a mythical animal just by picking the right words!

"The blue jay flew across the field while it sang it's melody."

Or

"A creature with wings made of clouds swooped across the field whilst roaring out a devilish tune."

Word choice can easily convey tone/feeling so it's definitely an important element to writing! If you ever have trouble finding that perfect word try googling for synonyms! Also this website might help you find that one word that you just can't think of!

Grammar is also a very important part of writing. Using the right words and punctuation can be difficult sometimes but there are some easy fixes!

Spelling is an easy fix, if you forgot/don't know how to spell a word consulting a dictionary or Google is a surefire way of solving your problem. You can even find synonyms if you feel like you've used a word too much. 

Punctuation on the other can be a big more difficult, however. 

Here's a couple of sentences that helped me learn basic punctuation:

A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink then leaves. Commas are a means of sewing two sentences together to form a compound sentence. These are mainly used to list out things and to add fluidity to your works so they don't sound as choppy.

A question mark walks into a bar? Question marks are pretty self explanatory. They either raise a question or form uncertainty.

Two quotation marks "walk" into a bar. Quotations are used for both dialogue and metaphors. I personally love using them for sarcasm!

A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to drink. This one is a tougher one that I personally never learned from any of my classes. A gerund is basically a word that can act as a verb or a noun which would be "drinking". An infinitive is the base of a verb, in this case it's "drink".

The bar was walked into by a passive voice. A passive voice is when you emphasize the action and object of a sentence rather than the subject. You can find that a passive voice tends to use past tense where as an active voice uses present/future tense.

Three intransitives walk into a bar. They sit. They drink. They leave. An intransitive verb is an action verb, expressing a doable activity like arrive, go, lie, sneeze, sit, die, etc.

Some other things that I commonly see are the wrong usages of words. For example:

They: a group of individuals/pronoun "Yeah, they said he'd be here thirty minutes ago."

Their: a possessive pronoun "Leave their stuff alone!'

There: location "What's that over there?"

Then: event/action "Val went to the mall then skittered to the park."

Your: possessive "Your self esteem is lower than the Mariana's Trench!"

You're: a conjunctive "you are"

Affect: caused by actions "The fallen french fry really affected Val's mood."

Effect: caused by events "Climate change has a negative effect on my Cheerios."

Peaked: a summit "Val has peaked at 10:19pm"

Piqued: stimulate interest/curiosity "You have piqued Val's interest by mentioning food."

Do time: "Val is fixin' to do time if she keeps slacking."

Due time: "Val will come with hydration in due time."

Per say: not a thing

Per se: by/in itself "She didn't write this late at night, per se…"

There are different tools you can use to spice up your writings, from metaphors to innuendos, all the way to zeugmas! Let's go over the basic definitions of these bad boys.

Metaphor: a figure of speech that is not literally applicable. "The darkness surrounded us like a shroud." Obviously the darkness can't physically shroud anyone.

Innuendo: a sentence with a hidden meaning "Is that a gator in your pants or are you just happy to see me~" 

Zeugma: a sentence containing words that can be used literally and figuratively, like a love child of the two above. "Val and her coupon expired last week." This implies that not only did my Colgate coupon expire, but I died as well.

Paragraphs are a necessity when it comes to writing. Big blocks of text are an eyestrain to readers and it's easy to lose your place, even if it's only 150 words. It's always best to use Tab or at least 5 spaces when indenting. A paragraph should only be 5-7 sentences long, this is so it's not just multiple blocks of text

When to add a new paragraph:

° A new person comes in

• New idea/context

° Setting changes

• New person is speaking

° Time changes

• The "camera" moves

° Tone shifts

• 5-7 sentences has been reached

Paragraphs help you organize your work in a way and they make it easier for your readers' eyes!

POVs are also very important. First person and third person are by far the most common ones so I'll only touch on these two. It's very important to write a story in one strict POV as to not confuse the readers. You can however jump perspectives like Heroes of Olmpyus by Rick Rodian, as long as the ready can easily tell who is telling the story.

First person is a story that is told from first-hand experience. It's the same as if I told y'all the story on how I almost chopped off my thumb in woodshop class back in middle school. First person tends to use a lot of I's and my's

Third person is a story that is told from a narrators' point of view. Such as "Once upon a time" type of stories. I's and my's should only be used in dialogue

Dialogue is probably one of the most important features of any fic/story. Dialogue can push plots forward as well as add life to a character. Here's a simple exchanged:

"Hiya 'Splodey," Val chirped.

Katuski smirked, "M'dumbass."

Dialogue should always come with a pair of quotation marks. Commas and periods generally go inside the quotation marks whereas dashes, colons, and semicolons almost always go outside the quotation marks. Question marks and exclamation marks however can go either inside or outside, it goes by a case by case basis. Always indent whenever a different speaker is talking, running quotes into each other is a no-go because it causes confusion and eyestrain.

You have to be wary of using simple dialogue exchanges though, if they seem off try saying them out loud! Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write because you can weave personality into them, not to mention you can always hear people talking to get a better idea on how to write dialogue.

For example, I have a southern dialect, meaning I sound different than someone from the north! I use words like "y'all", "fixin'", "finna", "ain't" and have a different vocabulary than that of my northern friends. This means that the characters you're portraying should have their own way of speaking! This will not only add flavor to your dialogue but it also adds to their personalities/backgrounds.

Describing things can be just as valuable as dialogue, but it is a bit more complex. Sure we've all heard of the "show, don't tell" rule. Which is a good rule to follow, however too much showing is just as bad as telling. Again, reading out your work is a great way to tell if you're focusing too much on one thing. Another thing to keep in mind is importance, such as do we really need to know that the grass outside was bluegrass? Which in certain situations it would be! For example:

The grass around the disheveled house was brown and straw-like, with the exception of a ring of grass. Bluegrass. Which wasn't even native to this location.

This paints a pretty good spooky picture in the readers' mind and even adds the element suspense by the implied uncertainty.

I've only covered a small portion of writing so if y'all have any questions or need any help feel free to slide into my DMs or send in an ask! I love getting questions about writing and I'm always willing to help a fellow writer!