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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Writer Questions Tag Game

Tagged by @writingonesdreams, @storyteller-kaelo, and @transboywrites! Ooooof

Warning for below the cut: I talk about the themes in DW and why they are there/how and if they connect to me personally, so proceed with caution for mentions of the following: abuse, anxiety, PTSD, drugs, addiction, alcoholism, crime & murder.

1. When starting something new, how much do you know about the story before you start writing?

Difficult question to answer, since I haven’t really started that many things! With DW I just threw together a bunch of characters I had made with a really vague plot and went from there. I do have One(1) Secret Project that I’m putting a lot more effort into planning. Overall though, knowing my character/s is probably the most important to me before I start writing!

2. What draws you to your WIP(s)? Why did you choose to write that/those over anything else?

Well, with Daydream Walking, I just had a handful of characters I REALLY liked and REALLY wanted to write about, so I threw them together with a sketch of a plot and some more characters I enjoy. (Previously I had developed the characters for roleplay!!)

Many many of the themes that show up in DW mean something to me personally. For the crime/murder themes, I’ve simply always enjoyed true crime, murder mysteries, and a good whodunit! The drugs/addiction and toxic masculinity/regular masculinity/many a way to exist as a man directly connect to me, as a trans man with family members affected by drug abuse. Additionally I have used drugs as a crutch in the past- I wasn’t quite addicted, but I had a bit of a bad habit and it wasn’t necessarily doing me any good. I’ve also acknowledged in the past how easy it would be to slide into alcoholism, especially if I hadn’t been raised the way I was involving alcohol- re: how to drink safely/in moderation.

The theme of abuse also ties directly back to me. Quince’s abuse and anxiety, and Alistair’s PTSD, all sort of exist as coping writing, though Quince’s abuse doesn’t exactly mirror my own and Alistair’s PTSD has a different source than mine. I was thinking about this recently and I think I need those things to be different from what happened to me and what I deal with, to be from a difficult angle, otherwise it’s too much for me.

3. Favorite writing spot? Why?

I find enjoy a spot where I can sit up straight yet comfortably without moving around too often, where I can set my laptop on a flat surface that isn’t too high up.

4. Share your favorite line of what you’ve written so far!

Ohh that’s tough! I have about 30,000 words so far, so my favorite part of what I’ve written so far is possibly some of the newer stuff:

Alistair hesitated. Miles slurped coffee out of his mug. A phone rung somewhere in the building and a car started outside. Trust me. He heaved a sigh and put out his cigarette. “Okay.” He dropped his voice further and looked Miles in the face for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Thirty minutes after we’re off duty. I’ll be parked on Gerard Street.”

5. If you had to choose one OC to bring to life as an actual person, which one would it be and why?

Tossup between Clay Calloway, flamboyant charisma gay, and Miles Crawford, kind gentle gay.

6. Are you looking to get published? If so, do you hope to make it a career?

I would like to but I’m not in a hurry!

7. What’s something you would read but would never write (or the other way around)? Any reason?

Ahh, I don’t know!! There’s some things I actively avoid reading so I would NEVER write them (incest for example)

8. What’s something you are most proud of about your work so far?

Gosh, it’s existence? And probably the emotional aspects of things and the relationships I’ve managed to build up and upon!

9. Badly describe your WIP(s) in one sentence

Three dumb boys have BIG problems feat. magic, guns, timetravel, and so much crime.

10. Why did you want to be a writer?

I don’t know, I just always have been? I started writing when I was pretty young, like maybe 8 years old? Been writing more consistently and constantly since maybe 2009? It’s a similar situation with art haha

Tagging: I’m not sure who has and hasn’t done this one at this point, so if you haven’t and you wanna go ahead and say I tagged you!

#writeblr #tag game #writer questionaire #writing #writers on tumblr #long post #dw #wip:dw #daydream walking

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Last Line Tag

Tagged by @storyteller-kaelo! Thank you <3

Once he was able to move around, he wanted only to move until pure exhaustion weighed him down and pinned him in place. Being stationary was the highest form of torture, or so it felt to him. He inched his way from his childhood bedroom, down the hall to his father's den, and back. Between trips he laid back in his boyhood bed, or reclined in his father's worn leather chair and took in the den.

His father had been dead for years, yet the den was spotless. It wasn't deceiving, however, as it would certainly have been closer to a disaster if his father was still using it- papers and pens and coffee rings and full ashtrays everywhere. His mother kept the large cherry-wood desk, which took up nearly a third of the floor-space in the small room, spotless. The shelves above were full of tidy, straight cookbooks of varying sizes and ages. The tall walls were lined with knives of all kinds, all sizes, all materials, even some that were hard to describe or pinpoint, in fact, hard to see. For the stretches of time that Clay was stuck immobile in his father's den, until he had the strength to move or his mother assisted him back to his own quarters, both old and temporary, he thought he must have examined every single knife in the room, if only visually.

Tagging: @transboywrites @requiemesque @agnesfagen @katerinarevel @storyteller-kaelo @farrradays @from-moonlight-to-daisies

#tag game #writeblr tag game #excerpt #writing #my writing #dw #wip:dw #daydream walking #clay calloway

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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DW Valentine’s Special

I felt driven to write a little something for Valentine’s Day featuring Alistair Sheep and Miles Crawford, one of the Main couples, or arguably The Main Couple, in my novel-beast wip Daydream Walking. I’m super happy with how it came out, to the point where I have to include it in my first draft, so I hope you enjoy it too! Here is a playlist for them, and the writing is below the cut since it is rather long.

Come On Closer by Jem

You sit back now Just relax now I'll take care of you

Marlene On The Wall by Suzanne Vega

Observe the blood, the rose tattoo Of the fingerprints on me from you

Like Real People Do by Hozier

I had a thought, dear However scary

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy

The distance between us It sharpens me like a knife

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by Cher

In my flat all alone How I hate to spend the evening on my own

Say Amen (Saturday Night) by Panic! At The Disco

Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent Mama, can I get another amen?

Shiver by Maroon 5

And I shiver when I hear your name I think about you, but it's not the same

Storm Song by Phildel

I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home.

My Moon My Man by Feist

Take it slow Take it easy on me Shed some light Shed some light on things

The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends) by Snow Patrol

I want pinned down I want unsettled Rattle cage after cage Until my blood boils

NFWMB by Hozier

If I was born as a black thorn tree I'd wanna be felt by you, held by you Feel the power of your hand on me

Bonus Couple Song: Your Man by Josh Parker Bonus Alistair Song: Little Pistol by Mother Mother Bonus Miles Song: Baby, You’re A Haunted House by Gerard Way

Content Warnings: Mentions of murder and death, some swearing. Also the presence of a weapon. There is no smut here!! But there is (hopefully) sexual tension, romance, and a good lot of kissing and touching.

Alistair was in the small, well-lit break room at the tail end of a long day, with a lit cigarette in his right hand and a cup of joe in his left. The shape of the room was long and narrow. One long wall hosted a number of square windows through which the harsh, bright afternoon sunlight shone, while the other was taken up by a kitchen stove and one long counter with cabinets below. On the stove sat a steaming percolator, on the counter beside the stove sat a wide, heavy ashtray, leaned against the counter next to the ashtray stood Alistair.

He was tapping ashes off into the ashtray when Miles ambled his way in. He had a way of moving that captured Alistair’s attention instantly; steady and confident, back straight, shoulders relaxed, pace consistent, like a well-trained hounddog at the height of his career. Miles settled in front of the stove and into pouring himself some coffee. “You should come home with me tonight,” he muttered, and jostled Alistair out of his thoughts. He took a drag off his cigarette as anxiety crawled up his spine.

They had never existed together, intimately, outside of Alistair’s apartment, except for the smallest of hints or touches that could not possibly be seen or heard by another human being. His apartment was safety, he knew every corner like he knew his own body, he knew the exits, he knew where he kept the knives, and he knew where every single dangerous creak, squeak, or groan existed in the furniture and in the floorboards and in the walls. “No,” he said on an exhale.

“Please,” Miles said without looking at him. The clacking of the spoon against Miles’ cup as he stirred filled the room. Was he being that loud on purpose? Alistair couldn’t help sneaking a look toward the door, wide open to the rest of the department.

“Why?”

“You’ll like it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Trust me.” Alistair worked his lips around the end of the cigarette, damp yet firm, and took another drag. “I’ll pick you up.”

“No.”

“Fine, you can follow me. Civilian cars, civilian clothes.”

Before Miles, with his curls and his staring, seeing eyes, could respond, Sinclair walked his stupid ass into the room, and declared: “Hey, guys! What’s happening?”

“Murder!” Alistair just barely didn’t yell. “Just talking about murder!”

“Happens all the time,” Miles confirmed grimly as he refilled his cup. “It’s really very unfortunate.”

Quickly becoming somber, Sinclair nodded. “It’s true. It’s very unfortunate. Anyway, let me in on that coffee action, Crawford.”

At 6:30pm, Alistair was sitting in his Ford on Gerard Street, in regular, soot-gray trousers and jacket. He’d managed to bathe, mostly to get rid of hat hair, and he hadn’t had a cigarette since dropping into his apartment. He idly chewed on the inside of his cheek and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he scanned the street for Miles Crawford’s cream Hudson.

He stopped tapping and sat up a little straighter when he saw the Hudson turn off of Golding Street onto Gerard. His car rumbled and chugged around him as Miles drove right past him without making eye contact or at all acknowledging his existence. When he could see Miles approaching the end of the street in his mirror, he pulled out and around to follow.

His anxiety lessened as he followed Miles through and around city blocks and out into the outer expanses of Port Cassandra. Soon the ocean and the city alike were obscured by trees both tall and numerous with thick underbrush groveling at their feet. Not only did Alistair feel calmer, now he was able to feel a spot of anticipation, a spark of excitement about where Miles was leading him. He had never been to Miles’ home, and he had never heard him speak of it either.

Eventually Miles pulled off the main road onto one both rougher and narrower, and Alistair followed. The road wound through the trees, and in places the branches reached out and scraped against the sides and roof of his car. He flinched only because of the noise, not because of the damage. His car was not one that was in mint condition, nor was it very new.

The trees broke slightly, and through them he could see slivers of ocean, flashes of beach, and, finally, a stout log cabin, all sharp angles and natural grains and colors, yet clearly weathered. The cream Hudson, light and shiny against the backdrop of the forest, the greenery, and the cabin, pulled up close to what was clearly the cabin’s rear before stopping. Alistair pulled up alongside and cut the engine.

He got out of his car with some effort. The slamming of their car doors seemed loud and intrusive out here. He came around to greet Miles between their two vehicles. “This is where you live?” There was a touch of awe to his tone that he did not intentionally put there.

“Yeah,” Miles said. He was holding a rather large paper bag in one arm. He was wearing brown trousers with a blue, casual button-up tucked in. “My father left it to me when he died.”

“Oh.” He was a bit shaken by this. Miles had never spoken of his father before. “I didn’t know your father was dead. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. He wasn’t a good man.”

That made it the opposite of fine! Alistair gingerly, slowly stepped close to Miles and set a hand on his shoulder. Before he could say anything, though, Miles kissed him on the mouth. He gasped and stepped back, quickly taking stock of their surroundings and seeing . . . no one.

He turned back to see Miles wearing a shit-eating grin. “Let’s not talk about that right now. Come home with me, Alistair.”

A shiver ran up his spine and he found himself smiling back at him. “Okay.”

It turned out the bag Miles was carrying contained wine, crackers, cheese, and apples. Alistair hadn’t thought to bring anything aside from himself and the condoms that lived in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, so he sliced the cheese and apples and displayed them on a plate with the crackers while Miles filled two glasses with wine. Of course, filling glasses with wine didn’t take much time, so after that he stood back and watched Alistair work. And drank wine.

Alistair still wasn’t used to being watched in a good way. He was always so worried about being seen and found out. “What are you looking at?” He asked as he set the dirtied knife and cutting board into the sink in the cabin’s kitchen. The inside of the cabin was small but clean and cozy. In the living room there was a wide, short couch with a matching coffee table.

“You,” Miles said as Alistair walked past and set the plate of crackers, cheese, and fruit next to the open bottle of wine and his own waiting glass. “The look on your face, determined. The way you do things. It’s very . . . “ His voice was breathy, low and loose. “Effective.”

Alistair picked up his glass in one hand and stood up straight, looking Miles in the face. Dark eyes, relaxed and calm, stared back at him. “Yeah?”

Miles pushed off the wall he was laying his weight against and came around the coffee table. He laid a hand against Alistair’s chest and pushed gently. “Yeah. Sit down, relax.”

Alistair obeyed. Miles wiggled himself into the space between him and the arm of the couch, and threw his arm over Alistair’s shoulders. “Drink,” he said into Alistair’s ear, his hot breath ghosting over the side of his face and the smell of wine hitting his nose.

He made physical effort to relax as he took a long sip of red wine. He leaned into Miles and relaxed into the couch. “I feel you have done all the work here,” he admitted, eyes on the wine wobbling in his glass.

“Not all of it,” Miles said, so close to him. “Just most of it. But don’t worry about it, I chose to do the work. I just wanted to get you out here, I thought you would like it.”

He sighed, trying to expel the shreds of tension that fought so valiantly to cling to the inside of his chest. He took another sip of wine and turned his face to Miles’. “I do like it.” He leaned more heavily into Miles, practically laying all the weight he could on him, and looked him in the eye before downing the entire glass of wine. He set the glass gently on the table, beside the bottle, with a small ‘clink’. “I just need you to fuckin’ kiss me before I have to go smoke a cigarette.”

Miles cradled his face with one hand and kissed him. It was a gentle, soft, close-lipped kiss. It was the sort of kiss Alistair remembered giving and receiving for the first time as a teenager. Then, it was an experiment. Now, it was a taunt.

Alistair turned his head, opened his mouth, and Miles pulled back.

“Wait,” Miles said.

“What?”

“I love you.”

For a long moment, he was thrown speechless. He probably looked like a deer in the headlights, or like an idiot, or maybe both. He wasn’t expecting it- although, if he were to think about it, it wasn’t surprising from Miles. And it wasn’t like he had never thought about how he felt about Miles, sex aside. There was a lot to their interactions now that could not be discounted as just . . . buddies helping each other out.

Like the wine and the cheese on the table, and the way Alistair had made sure he didn’t have disgusting cigarette mouth before he got here, and how Miles had practically negotiated him out here because he thought he would like it. Thought he would like it- no, Miles thought he could relax here. And he was right.

He leaned forward and pressed one more chaste kiss to Miles’ lips, and then another to his cheek. “I love you too,” he whispered against his skin, and shivered, but he wasn’t cold.

He felt Miles exhale, heavy and fast, like he was relieved, and then he was laughing a bit under his breath and his arms were tight around Alistair and he was kissing up his neck and nibbling his beard.

“Oh, my God,” Alistair managed, and he wasn’t unhappy. He was smiling again. He looked out at the darkening sky through the cabin windows, and he saw the trees, and he heard the night distantly. He could not deny that this felt nice.

“I thought you’d freak out,” Miles admitted with his face pressed into Alistair’s shoulder. There was humor in his voice, though it was a legitimate concern.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” he muttered.

Miles lifted his head and kissed him, and this time his mouth was open. He tasted like wine. His tongue was clever and his teeth were careful. Alistair’s mouth was his for the taking.

Alistair surged out of his grasp, but only to throw himself into his lap. He tossed his bad leg over Miles and shoved his right foot against the floor to push himself into position. They only ceased kissing for the moment it took him to reposition.

He ran his hands up Miles’ neck and into his short, curly hair, cradling the back of his neck. He felt Miles’ hands on his waist, massaging their way down through his clothes. He bit gently at his lower lip, and Miles gasped.

“Alistair!” He exclaimed, and pulled his gun out of its holster at his hip. “Really?”

#writing #romance #gay romance #gay writing #gay men #mlm #fictional cops in the 40's being gay #historical illegal homosexuality #wip:dw #dw #daydream walking #alistair sheep #miles crawford #valentine's day #valentine's day special

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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5 Little Known Facts

Tagged by @storyteller-kaelo! Thanks! It took me a hot second to think up some facts I probably haven’t revealed anywhere yet.

Rules: Give five little-known facts about your WIP(s) then tag five people

Naturally I’m doin’ Daydream Walking.

1. Quince met Felicity in Magic College in his home state of California and they have been married for 15 years. He was a much more confident man, though still very mild-mannered and serene, when he initially moved to New York with Felicity.

2. Alistair is somewhat estranged from his parents and one of his siblings, for a variety of reasons, but mostly because his father is overbearing, judgmental and seemingly cannot be impressed.

3. Clay’s sister, Gale, was closer to their father than Clay was before he died. There is about 8 years between the two of them, when Clay was young his father worked a lot and wasn’t around much, he was home more when Gale was young, so Clay and his father never quite bonded.

4. The means of timetravel in DW is an enchanted dagger that was among Otis Calloway’s (Clay’s father’s) collection when he passed away.

5. In the wizard-dominated future of 4146, it is customary for people of any gender to wear cloaks and robes, often intricately designed and colorful, and to wear gemstone earrings. Additional accessories like necklaces and rings are also common. Close-fitting clothes and visible skin are considered provocative, though there are many times and places where it is acceptable to wear specifically a loose shirt and shorts (considered underclothes). For example, at one point Clay strips down to his underclothes in front of two other Enforcers to jump into a hole in the ground, and in The Beehive, the nightclub near the Government Building in Astervale it is expected that everybody wears only their underclothes inside.

Tagging: @transboywrites @requiemesque @thecadmiuminkwell @katerinarevel @cawolters

#writing #tag game #writeblr tag game #fantasy #dw #wip:dw #daydream walking #quince heller #alistair sheep #clay calloway #otis calloway

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Character Intro: Quince B. Heller

“Quince!” Felicity’s voice woke him, cracking through his slumber like lightning through a dark cloud.

Full Name ↳ Quince Benedict Heller

Gender & Pronouns ↳ Male, He/him

Orientations ↳ Bisexual/Biromantic

Age ↳ 35 Years

Appearance ↳ A tall, slouching white man with curly ginger-red hair and green eyes who often dresses in a plain style and is rarely seen smiling. According to Clay, he “stinks of concealment magic”.

Brief Personality Description ↳ A quiet, nervous man whose alcohol problems are common knowledge and whose marital problems are not. He is fond of books and well-liked by animals.

Occupation ↳ Clerk at the Hall of Forms and Records

Associated Stone/s ↳ White Opal

Knowledge of Magic ↳ Advanced

Control of Magic ↳ Weak

♦ Mini Playlist ♦

Close 2 Me by Gentleman Hall

Not Your Fault by Awolnation

Smile Like You Mean It by The Killers

Horns by Bryce Fox

Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

Hit Me Like a Man by The Pretty Reckless

Full Playlist ❦ Wip Intro

Taglist: @transboywrites @cawolters @requiemesque @agnesfagen (ask to be added or removed!)

Residence ↳ Astervale, New York

Birthplace ↳ Someplace, California

Family ↳

Felicity Royce > His jealous and controlling wife of 15 years.

Nancy Heller > His mother who died when he was very young.

Clive Heller > His disappointed mushroom farmer father.

Mickey Heller > His protective twin brother who stayed in California and works in the family business.

Bonus: Name Meanings ↳

Quince is of French origin and means the fifth-born and/or is an apple-like fruit.

Benedict is of Latin origin and means “blessed”.

Heller, a person who is noisy, wild, reckless.

#character intro #male character #wizard #queer character #finally finished one of these #i decided it was best to keep things short and sweet for these but PLEASE if you want to know anything specific ask and i will respond #in detail #i just didnt want these to get all rambly blehh #im also working on moodboards for these boys but i decided to post them separately so they didn't hold up my posting these intros #dw #wip:dw #daydream walking #quince heller

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Character Interview Tag

Tagged by @cawolters, who put this tag game together! Thank you, I’m so excited!! I’m gonna go into this using all 3 of DW’s main men; Clay, Quince, and Alistair

Guidelines: answer these 12 questions in the voice and manner of your character(s) and then tag as many or as few writeblr guys, as you would like⭐️⭐️⭐️

1. What did you have for breakfast?

Clay: I don’t know, what time is it? Is it technically morning? It is?!

Quince: A cheese-and-mushroom omelet.

Alistair: First I had a cigarette, then Miles made me eat a bagel.

2. What can you cook perfectly?

C: Lots of things! Better question: do I want to cook? Nope!

Q: Um . . . eggs?

A: A glass of milk.

3. If you could choose a pet, what what would it be?

C: A dragon would be pretty sweet.

Q: Well, I have a horse, and a cat, sort of. I’d choose them?

A: I would CHOOSE none! >holds up the cat he’s pretending to hate<

4. How is your relationship with your parents?

C: My mother is a wonderful lady! My relationship with my father was, well, a little distant. He’s been dead for a while now.

Q: My mom died when I was pretty young. My dad has a lot of opinions. >sigh<

A: What relationship?

5. What is your favorite read?

C: Who has time to read? Hahahahah. Haven’t done that since I graduated!

Q: Ohhh, how can I pick a favorite? There are so many. In a way, whatever I’m reading at the time is my favorite.

A: My favorite what?

6. Do you put both socks on first, or one sock, one shoe?

C: Socks are kind of old-fashioned, don’t you think?

Q: I don’t wear socks?

A: Both socks first. What do I look like, some kind of hooligan?

7. Do you fold your clothes before bed?

C: Pffff, no! >throws his clothes on the floor, they proceed to take care of themselves<

Q: That’s not necessary, I don’t think. >doesn’t look the interviewer in the eye<

A: I hang my clothes. Ugh, wrinkles and creases! I have to look presentable. >looks like he hasn’t slept in about 5 years<

8. How do you feel about marriage?

C: Not for me, is what I think!

Q: I, uh, I don’t know! >a bit flustered and defensive< I love my wife!

A: Let’s just say I may not be open to giving it another go, okay?

9. Who was the last person you crushed on?

C: I’m not sure.

Q: Felicity, of course!

A: >glances at Miles, lies through his teeth< A woman, a lady, a, uh, real dashin’ gal.

10. What does your dream home look like? And where would it be?

C: In the city, centrally located, close to work. Hey, just like my current apartment!

Q: In the country.

A: Just a small, nice house, little bit of a yard, maybe a tree out front. Nothing fancy.

11. What’s your worst habit?

C: I’m not sure I have any, really. >stays out until 4am, gets buzzed, and sleeps with a stranger<

Q: >definitely not drunk< We don’t need to talk about that.

A: >up in the middle of the night, sitting in a cloud of cigarette smoke< I’m fine. Lay off.

12. What do you do for living and how do you feel about your job?

C: I’m an Enforcer and I love it! It’s my dream job and I worked very hard to be here, and to get as far as I have. I enjoy the company of the other Enforcers and I like serving my city and my community. Also, I’m good at my job.

Q: I work as a clerk in the Hall of Forms and Records and it’s . . . a living. I wanted to be a journalist or a reporter when I first moved here with Felicity, but work in those fields didn’t come fast enough, and I ended up here. Been here for a while now.

A: I’m a police officer. It’s . . . work. It’s busy and the rest of the force is basically nuts, except for Miles and MAYBE Rigby.

Tagging: @requiemesque @transboywrites @storyteller-kaelo @katerinarevel

#tag game #long post #these boys have Issues #and that's what it's alllll about!!!#wip:dw #clay calloway #quince heller #alistair sheep

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Last Line Tag

Tagged by @farrradays! Thanks!

This is the last bit I wrote down for a middleish bit of DW, and it’s REALLY rough, so please be gentle!!

"I appreciate the confidence," Alistair muttered. Then, louder, "What about driving a car? Using the radio? Hand to hand combat?"

"Uh, I've driven a flying car, your ground-locked cars can't be that much different," Clay said with maybe just a slight bit more confidence than he actually felt in the matter. "The radio, I'm not sure. Hand to hand combat, I learned training to be an Enforcer, and regularly practice."

"Flying car," Alistair mocked without looking at Clay, drumming his fingers anxiously against the leather-covered arm of the chair. He stood up abruptly. "Fight me."

"Wow, okay." Clay's surprise at Alistair's sudden enthusiasm probably showed in wide eyes and the slightly breathy tone to his voice.

Alistair gestured loosely at Clay's long, lanky body. "Take that off, don't want to damage it."

"Okayyy."

"Leave your skivvies on."

"My what now?"

"Your- you know, your underpants. Your skivvies. Leave them on."

"Obviously. Damn. I'm from the future, not from idiotdumbassland."

Approximately ten minutes later, Alistair and Clay were squaring up on the beach. The midday sun beat down on them. The sand was warm under Clay's bare feet. Just feet away, the ocean lapped at the sand. A few wispy clouds floated through the blue sky overhead. Yards away, the woods loomed like a dark mistress.

Clay made the first move, hoping to throw Alistair off, and potentially overconfident as well. He still wasn't entirely recovered from his magic-alcohol-coma. He was not at top strength. He feinted to the left and then struck out to the right, attempting to land a blow on Alistair's shoulder.

Alistair was quick, blocking him with one forearm and swinging his other arm around to catch Clay in a headlock, effectively utilizing Clay's close proximity. Alistair's arm grew tight around his throat and the shorter man quickly laid his weight onto Clay, throwing him off balance. Together they fell into the sand.

Tagging: @transboywrites @storyteller-kaelo @requiemesque @that-one-writing-blog

#writing #swearing #writeblr tag game #tag game #wip:dw #dw #daydream walking #clay calloway #alistair sheep #the boys battle on the beach

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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【ＴＨＥ　ＧＡＭＥ　ＯＦ　ＳＥＶＥＮＳ】

【ｔａｇｇｅｄ　ｂｙ】 @requiemesque

【ｒｕｌｅｓ】 go to your current wip. find the seventh line in the seventh page and copy and past seven sentences below. then tag seven other writers to do the same.

Most of the backyard was visible from the street.

As Clay strode along, he spotted the tomato plants. They climbed support cages nearly eight feet into the air, and their leaves frequently curled around each other and swatted at the air despite the lack of a breeze. Bred to fend off pests on their own?

Deeper into the yard, a couple sturdy oaks stood soaking in the afternoon sunlight. Between them a large, multi-color hammock was strung. In the hammock, in the shade, Jimmy and Steve laid and embraced.

【ｔａｇｇｉｎｇ】

@transboywrites @agnesfagen @edenoubell @cawolters @writingwhithotchocolate @jess-is-a-writer @storyteller-kaelo

#wip:dw #dw #daydream walking #tag game #writeblr #excerpt #clay calloway #words words words #tumblr tag game #writeblr game #writeblr tag game

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lookslikechill · 6 years ago

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Character Interview Tag

Tagged by @requiemesque JUST before I tagged her in the last one I did haha. And we’re doing Daphne, Hayden, Blake, and Reese this time just bc I want to! They’re some of the Enforcers we meet first and (not counting Blake at this point) know the most about!

Guidelines: answer these 12 questions in the voice and manner of your character(s) and then tag as many or as few writeblr guys, as you would like⭐️⭐️⭐️

1. What did you have for breakfast?

Daphne: It’s hard to say what is breakfast on workdays, but on my last day off I had waffles, eggs, and fruit, at home with my family.

Hayden: Is it dinner or is it breakfast if you eat it at 2am?

Blake: Very well-done scrambled eggs with green pepper, onion, garlic, and tomato.

Reese: A salad, no dressing, water on the side.

2. What can you cook perfectly?

D: I used to be able to cook most things really well, since my mother was very . . . insistent that I learn how to cook everything under the sun to perfection. I haven’t had much practice since I moved away from home, though. At home, my husband, Henry, does most of the cooking.

H: Listen, I don’t like to cook or anything, but occasionally I would help my mom bake bread and it would turn out pretty decent!

B: Anything that can be sauteed or grilled, I can cook it. It will be edible, it will taste good, but it might not look all that fancy!

R: Um . . . cookies?

3. If you could choose a pet, what what would it be?

D: I have a soft spot for cats. Henry and I have talked about getting a pair of littermates once our youngest is a bit older.

H: A dragon would be really cool! Or a unicorn . . . >heart eyes<

B: A dog. Classic.

R: I had a couple lovebirds growing up. They were sweethearts. >small smile<

4. How is your relationship with your parents?

D: My father died before I was born. I love my mom, and she loves me, but we don’t always get along. We see each other often, and she’s great with the kids. She’s not always great with Henry, though! >chuckle<

H: I never knew my dad. I haven’t seen my mom in months, but I write her letters sometimes! I love her, but she just really wants things for me that I don’t want. Harvey and I came to Astervale to get away from our mothers and their expectations. Harvery’s mom is WAY worse than mine, though! Wow!

B: I have a good relationship with my parents. We keep in touch regularly. They’re pleasant people, y’know, the kind that have lived in the same place since they married and had the same jobs for going on forever. >fond smile<

R: Alright. They’re not happy that I chose to become an Enforcer, instead of training in the International Relationships Department like they did, but they’ll get over it. They’re just a bit uptight. >scoffs and crosses her arms< And people think I’m uptight.

5. What is your favorite read?

D: I don’t know, it’s been a while since I’ve read anything for me. My most recent read? Everybody Poofs.

H: Reading? For fun? Hahahahahaha haha ha hahaha ha haha

B: I don’t spend much time reading anymore, but when I did I really enjoyed any adventure involving sword-wielding ladies and dragons.

R: Anything educational. Fiction is a waste of time, I’ll read fiction when I’m ancient.

6. Do you put both socks on first, or one sock, one shoe?

D: No socks. One shoe at a time.

H: I LEAP off my bed and my shoes jump onto my feet at the same time, mid-air! Haha! Glad you asked!

B: I wear complicated shoes that require a bit of attention, so one at a time.

R: One shoe at a time. >sighs, rolls her eyes< Like a proper witch of status.

7. Do you fold your clothes before bed?

D: I don’t fold them, but I do hang them.

H: >throwing his clothes on the bed and jumping on after them< Doing what before what now?

B: Seriously. Magic.

R: No.

8. How do you feel about marriage?

D: It’s a dream come true, honestly. >gazes lovingly at Henry & the kids<

H: It sounds nice! If somebody I liked asked me to marry them, I’d die. . . of HAPPINESS!

B: Rather neutral.

R: It’s a meaningful alliance, with the right person.

9. Who was the last person you crushed on?

D: Henry. It worked out well.

H: Well, there’s somebody up in International Relations . . . they have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.

B: I don’t really do that. Like, the romance thing. I tried it out when I was younger, and it’s just not for me. Even if I did, it just seems like people expect so much out of you, y’know? I like my space to be my space, and my time to be my time. Not counting work, of course.

R: I really don’t have time for that stuff right now.

10. What does your dream home look like? And where would it be?

D: Nothing can beat my current home. Safe neighborhood, large yard, garden out back, a couple of trees, sensible layout on the inside with a cozy look and feel. A perfect home to build a family, raise a couple kids. I might even want to live here well into my senior years.

H: A cave or an abandoned mine, for me to live in and protect. I could leave and hunt birds, squirrels, and chipmunks, and come back to chase off any intruders. I could have a bed of cloth bags full of leaves and a stone-lined firepit in the way back of the cave. I would bath in a stream nearby and dress in deer pelts and fashion bowls and spoons out of bone.

B: A big stone house with high ceilings, a fireplace, and lots of windows. Somewhere high up with a view.

R: A small house, but not too small, just the right size so I can live there on my own and not a single corner will go unused. Busy yet organized. Somewhere isolated and private.

11. What’s your worst habit?

D: I can be . . . a little harsh, a bit judgmental, a little quick to form an opinion. >muttering< I’mmymother’sdaughtherIguess.

H: I’m loud? I guess? >walks off to boast about how well he did in hand-to-hand combat training and talk to people at length while they are obviously trying to fill out paperwork<

B: I don’t always utilize my time properly.

R: Sometimes . . . >whispers< sometimes I am bite the inside of my cheek a little.

12. What do you do for living and how do you feel about your job?

D: I work as a high-level Enforcer. I’ve worked hard to get to this point, and it’s well worth it. We do a lot of good in this city.

H: I’m a mid-level Enforcer! I’m from a small town in Pennsylvania, where I started out being an Enforcer, and I’m so glad I transferred to Astervale. People actually listen to me, and there’s murder!! I mean, not that murder is great but it would have happened whether I was here or not and there wasn’t much murder happening at home! They need me here!

B: I’m a high-level Enforcer. It’s worthwhile work, and I get along pretty well with the rest of the Enforcers, for the most part.

R: I’m an low-level Enforcer, which means I’m in training, basically. I’m pleased to be here and ready to work hard.

Tagging: Anybody who wants to do this!! Just say I tagged you okay! (you don’t have to do it with All of the characters at once like I keep doing ooooof)

#tag game #writeblr tag game #character interview #words words words #longish post #oooof feels nice to finish and post one of my many drafts #daphne donovan #blake elmfield #hayden tern #reese alvee #this was helpful for character development #especially for blake!!!#dw #daydream walking #wip:dw #enjoyable

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