#writeblr chaos

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

✨writing rant because i’m UNWELL and someone said enemies to lovers is “overdone”✨

okay listen.

i don’t care how “overdone” the trope is. let her fall in love with the enemy prince. let him smile like a knife and lie like a prayer. let her fall anyway. and then let her stab him with a hairpin. a hairpin!! we deserve this.

this isn't about originality. this is about execution and emotional violence and aesthetically pleasing betrayal.

tropes aren’t dead. they’re haunting us in new outfits.

every trope is a reusable little narrative skeleton and you get to dress it in whatever cursed, beautiful, petty, yearning flesh your heart desires. you can take enemies to lovers and make it toxic, or tender, or tragic. you can give them shared trauma. you can make them childhood friends turned enemies turned lovers turned enemies again. you can make the stabbing literal or metaphorical. you can make it an almost-stabbing, where she presses the blade to his throat and doesn’t do it. you can make her do it and then sob in his arms while he bleeds out whispering her name like a prayer he never meant to say out loud.

you can make it GAY.

that’s the power of tropes. they’re not restrictive. they’re launchpads. they give readers expectations so you can BREAK them. or better--fulfill them in devastating, soul-twisting ways.

also. like. if you think a trope is “overdone” maybe it’s not the trope that’s the problem. maybe it’s just being written without any real teeth. no emotional bite. no stakes. no tension. no pain. and that’s not the trope’s fault. that’s just boring writing.

give me the obsessive yearning. give me the knife-to-throat confessions. give me the battlefield truce that turns into a five-second pause before they go right back to trying to kill each other. give me quiet moments in enemy territory where they realize they’re not so different. give me the one bed. give me the i hate you but i’d burn down a kingdom for you and hate myself for it.

let the prince kneel at her feet, kiss her knuckles like he’d never crush them, and then go home and report to his war council like nothing happened. let her wear the hairpin he gave her while plotting his assassination. let them both suffer about it. let them choose each other anyway. or don’t. let them fail. let them fall apart in the final act and still reach for each other across the ashes.

i literally do not care how many times we’ve seen it. i want it again. i want it done well. i want it done with spite and softness and aching inevitability. i want to feel like the betrayal was worth it. i want to scream into my hands and text my writer friends like “why would you do this to me” while secretly living for it.

write your trope. write it the way it’s been done before or write it sideways and backwards and messy. just write it with emotion. and a little hairpin. and blood under their fingernails.

okay bye

Rin T.

[nondelphic]

"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

[honorlessrogue]

today i wrote zero words! but i did think about my story twice in passing. that probably counts for something

[seekerknight557]

i think it is a very powerful thing when the story inside you is so loud that you are forced to relearn how to draw, write, and talk to people to get it made into a real thing

[jaycommitswriting]

[spiderlilyx]

"Oh my God why would they do that????" I say as I write someone doing something bad with my own ten fingers

[cranberry-queen]

I wanted to write today… but my brain said, “Nope.” Not sure if it’s a motivation issue or just good old-fashioned writer’s block, but either way—progress needed to happen.

So, I cheated (but like, in a totally productive way). I followed my plot outline and wrote just the dialogue. No fancy descriptions, no deep internal monologues—just vibes and conversation. And you know what? It worked.

I once said that the only job of the first draft is to exist. A skeletal scene with dialogue and the barest hint of description? Totally fine. That’s what the second draft is for. Future Me can deal with the details—Current Me just needs to keep the story moving.

[echo146]

How it feels working a 9 to 5 and having too many WIPs of varying forms and genres alongside unrealistic expectations for myself as a writer yayyy xox

[lilydrafts]

We are writers my love. We don't cry. We bleed on paper.

[kaylynnwilde]

You always hear that you shouldn't start sentences with "and" or "but" because it's not good grammar. I say I'll stop doing it when I'm dead.

[chaoscreaturewrites]

Call of duty, ghost, cute meet, fluff

Her tism wins him over

Summary:Out at a bar ghost saves her from falling. She wants to talk with this stranger but flirting isn't her thing. He's had a bad month and she's the highlight he could listen to her go on and on for hours. But her friends interrupt and criticize her making her shut down so it's up to ghost to get her to smile again.

WC:1.9k

Her pov

Once a month she goes out to a bar with her friends, it's not the best environment for her autism but she does usually manage to have some fun.

While her friends dance she goes to the bar for another drink. She gets shoved by a few people hustling by and loses her balance. She's falling certain she's going to collide with the filthy floor, but the hit doesn't come, only the feeling of a hard bar-like thing pressing against her abdomen.

She opens her eyes and sees it's someone's forearm holding her up, impressive. Still hanging over him she turns and looks up to see her savior and finds a tall, well built man with beautiful chocolate eyes wearing a mask.

She pushes up her glasses and stands up supporting herself. The man simply turns back to the bar and takes a sip of his drink staring off into the void in front of him like what just happened was simply nothing, but for her that was a reality altering moment that sent her heart racing and filled her stomach with butterflies. 

She wishes so badly she knew how to flirt or was any good at small talk cause right now, this man, she wants to make a connection. 

Her friends had given her some pointers and she's watched shows so she pulls from that information. She steps up to the bar into the open space next to the mystery man and orders a drink for herself and one for him. 

This gets his attention, hopefully in a good way but his expression gives nothing away as he looks at the new drink. 

“Thank you for catching me”

He picks up the new drink and gives her a nod of thanks. 

Sending him a drink was her one hope for starting something but that's been shut down so she calls it quits, she's not skilled enough for this and doesn't want to bother him more. 

As she walks away the glint of something catches her eye, she finds its source to be a beautiful knife handle with shining copper inlays, holstered on the man's belt.  This sparks a special interest of hers, making all the self consciousness and social pressure go away. 

Now she approaches with confidence, tapping the man's shoulder, the second his gaze turns to her the words start flowing from her effortlessly. Complementing his knife, talking about the craftsmanship, detailed techniques, her own collection, she goes on and on. 

His pov

The squad goes out for their ritual after mission drinks. Tonight spirits aren't great, lower than usual but they still go.

Ghost takes a seat at the bar, Price settles in a corner to have a cigar, Gaz and Soap flirt looking for a pretty distraction.

Movement in his periphery catches his attention and he acts on instinct when he sees a lil bird start to fall, reaching out his arm and catching her. Seems like she's a bit dazed so he takes that moment to look her over, she's not dressed like the other girls here. No short dress or skin tight outfit, she's dressed sensibly, comfortably, jeans and a t-shirt. She doesn't need a short skirt or too tight leggings to show off, the jeans hug her ass beautifully, shirt tied on the sides defining her waist ever so slightly, he finds this look much more appealing than any party dress. 

She gets even cuter when she faces him, how She adjusts her glasses and brushes her bangs back into place. He was right to say she got dazed by the look written on her face. He has to turn away, can't just keep staring at her shamelessly, he's not right for a sweet Lil bird like her, he's too damaged and in a dark place tonight.

He hopes she'll just walk away for her own sake even though it's the opposite of what he truly wants. But no, she goes to stand right next to him, close enough he can smell her scent, it's such a harsh contrast to the smokey sharp smell of the bar. He doesn't know if it's her perfume or hair but she smells like peppermint, honey, rose, and something he can't name but is so alluring. 

“ Thank you for catching me”

He was so caught up in the scent of her he didn't hear her order him a drink until the glass was slid in front of him. This catches him off guard, what's he's supposed to say ‘ oh i didn't mean to do that it was just instincts from my training’. No, that's probably not the right response, if only Soap or Gaz  was here they would whisper to him what to tell her. Now it's been too long since she's spoken. He needs to act so he just gives her a nod of thanks and turns away in embarrassment while he internally berates himself. 

He feels a touch on his arm and is amazed to see it's her again, he expected one of the guys, but now it's her the Lil angle who keeps coming back no matter how many times he looks away. 

He didn't have any expectations but what she said still surprised him. Is this really happening? She likes his knives, she knows a lot about them, so much detail, she has her own collection, oh she really is an angel. He happily listens to every word she says, fully under her spell as she info dumps. Everything fades away, the bar scene replaced by just her, the sharp smokey scent replaced by hers, the music replaced by her voice, the darkness of his last mission being cleared away with every passing minute in her presence.

Her pov

“Y/N there you are, what are you doing”

“ are you info dumping rn, girl that's not one of the flirting tips”

Their words snap her out of her special interest hype instantly and she becomes very self-conscious and shuts down a bit, feeling bad that she just info dumped to a stranger who she probably bothered a lot. 

She turns back to the man but can't meet his chocolate gaze again. Hands intertwined picking at her fingers, eyes down, shoulders slumped she apologies to the man.

“Sorry”

She goes to walk away following after her friends feeling dejected, like she's made a fool of herself again cause she just can't fit in and interact with others freely.

They all sit at a booth and chatter continues, they try to tell her it's okay, it happens but the words bounce off.

His pov

Who the hell are they? She's with them, why on earth did they stop her and ridicule her like that, I didn't want her to stop, that was one of the best conversations I've had in weeks and I didn't have to say a word. 

He sips the drink she bought him and tries to calm down. He regroups with the guys at Price's booth, apparently he didn't cool down enough and they ask what's bothering him. He tells them all about her and what happened, well he left out how he started at her ass.  Soap refuses to let that be the end of their story and drags Ghost out of the booth  and around the bar until they find her.

Gaz followed along giving Ghost tips and lines to say, nothing to flirt, only things he thought Ghost could pull off. They shove him towards her booth and watch hoping he can pull this off.

The pep talk did help, boosted his confidence, he's now a man on a mission and he never fails a mission. He walks right up to her and holds out his hand.

She looks up at him, still a bit of that dejected look showing but mostly shock. Her friend gives her a nudge which seems to bring her back to reality. 

“ I.. I can't dance”

“ Neither can I”

He has no intention of dancing with her, he just needs to get her alone again, away from the ones that made her shut down. 

Her small hand slips into his and he closes around it and pulls her up, moves her in front of him and walks her out of the bar, he'd like to have a quiet moment with her. 

She visibly looks calmed once out of the bar, a bit of that sparkle returning to her eyes, her posture straightening, and that energy that drew him In returning. Good.

Her pov

He came back, he came and found me, maybe, maybe I wasn't bothering him, could that be possible. Something seems different about him, less soft and lonely, more confident and determined.

Oh, does he want to dance, I really can't dance, if I had any chance dancing would ruin it completely. 

“ I..I can't dance”

“ Neither can I”

No dancing Thank god, but then what does he want, oh does that even matter. This is a chance, and unknown I want to take, I need to take. Here goes possibly everything. Yup this man is confident and those calluses he must be really good with that knife, must use it a lot, I wonder what he does. 

Where is he leading us, oh we're going outside, that's good, the music I can't take much more, gotta call it a night real soon.

 A deep breath of the fresh chilly night air clears away a lot of her tension, she needed this badly. She looks up at him again and waits, wondering why he came back, why bring her outside. 

His hand never left her and now he uses their hold to pull her in, closing the distance between them, she can feel the heat radiating from him and instinctively nuzzles against his chest. He wraps his arms around her in a hug as they stand there on the sidewalk while the world passes around them.

“ I liked what you said before, I could listen to you talk for hours… that was the highlight of my month” 

His pov

 “ I liked what you said before, I could listen to you talk for hours… that was the highlight of my month” 

“ really”

The way her voice cracks, the desperation in her tone tells him just how big an impact this has on her, how deeply tonight has affected her.  He needs to show her, convince her.

So he picks her up, making them eye level, enjoying the way she wraps her leg around him. 

“ Honestly, yes, tell me more about your knife collection or any of your other interests, there's no other way I'd like to spend my time. A cup of tea and listening to you”

It all happens so quick, he barely registers it, but it did happen, she grabbed his face and kissed him right in his mask. It was quick but not chaste, there was a hunger there, passion. Now her cheeks are quickly turning red and her pupils blown, this can't be the only time he sees this, no he need her in his life. 

….

“ So how did it go?”

“ we have a date next weekend”

Soap and Glaze erupt in cheers and Price gives him a pat on the back, his version of an atta boy.

Also can check out my cod master list and see if you'd like to be tagged for any future works for specific characters

[nondelphic]

writing is 10% storytelling and 90% rearranging three sentences for an hour like you're trying to solve an ancient curse

[jonmhansen]

[seekerknight557]

Just write the thing. for 5 minutes. If there's more than 5 minutes of work, great. If not, you had the 5 minutes

[jaycommitswriting]

[spiderlilyx]

*Scrolling on my phone and seeing a writing meme*

"Oh wow this is so funny!" I say as my story collects dust in the background