writingstarling

[writingstarling]

Hi, I'm a HUGE fan of you and your work! I think my favourite so far is Selfless. You constructed everything perfectly with his identity issue to his addiction. As a writer, if I may ask, how do you know just how you can write around intercations and actions without it growing tiresome? I always end up too straightforward or too redundant so I was hoping for some pointers if it's something you learned. And another thing is how you always find the words and metaphors to explain something. I always find myself unable to explain the feelings and sensations or just plucking it from another story somewhere. Is it because of experience, something you learned, or does it just come to you eventually? Sorry for all the questions. I'd be really happy if you could provide me with some pointers or stuff you learned because your writing truly boggles my mind more than I honestly wished it would lol. Have a nice dayy!!

YOU ARE SO INCREDIBLY KIND! 😭 Thank you! I'm so glad you liked Selfless. And someone liking my stuff enough to ask for WRITING ADVICE? 🤯😍😭 I'm a wreck over here.

I know every writer is different and what has worked well for me might be extremely unhelpful to someone else, but I'll try my best!

If a scene feels tiresome it might be because it lacks purpose. Without a clear direction to move in, it's easy to write yourself in circles. Having the foundations of your scene clearly in mind, like what your characters are feeling going into it, what they will learn/how their opinions or attitude will shift as a result of this exchange, and the end goal that will mark the end of the scene, can help keep the pace appropriately brisk and the interaction meaningful. As a "discovery writer," I often find myself asking those questions halfway into a scene (or even after it's written), which can lead to a lot of editing or even just erasing paragraphs that aren't contributing. If you can answer those questions before you get started, that's great; but if you're like me and have characters that often surprise you with their reactions, there's nothing wrong with editing or rewriting the scene to include what you've learned along the way.  

If a scene feels too straightforward it might help to inject a little subtlety. Showing how someone is feeling rather than telling can breathe a lot of life into a paragraph. (Not "She felt happy," but "She smiled so hard her eyes crinkled.") Introducing a third unrelated element for your character's feeling to manifest towards is also a neat trick I've been playing with recently that can add another layer of depth. (She bought a pie she's excited to eat when she gets home, but after something disappointing happens, she no longer wants to eat the pie.)  

If a scene feels redundant it might help to trust your audience more. Writing is among the most participatory art forms in that your reader's imagination is going to supply a lot of what you don't say. Over-explaining not only leads to rambling paragraphs but can also inhibit your storytelling. Let your reader infer things. Leave them breadcrumbs in your characters actions (drifting eyes, twitching fingers) or in the unsaid (like in Selfless, when Zelda says, "The moon looks beautiful tonight," and Link scoffs, "You think so?"). On the sentence level, less is usually more. Because I'm wordy, I can almost always cut a good third of the words in my sentence with no impact on clarity. Especially look out for overused whisker words (however, still, and, but, yet, etc) or qualifiers that aren't adding anything ("She smiled at him" vs "She smiled").  

That brings us to metaphors, which I struggle with immensely so I'm both flattered and shocked that you like mine. 😂 Of course skills inevitably improve with practice and I think aging in general helps (more life experiences = more to pull from), but two things I consciously try to work in are character perspective and mouthfeel. Character perspective: Dryad!Link is a tree, so he sees the world through the lens of nature, plants, the seasons, and the like, so as my narrative character his metaphors will likely pull from those sources. Huntsman!Link is a hunter, so he's more likely to think in terms of snares, traps, weapons, prey animals, stealth, a kill, and so on. Obviously this works best with a close narrative character, but it's a good trick for adding cohesion with the environment of the scene or story as well. Mouthfeel: Aligning the emotional undercurrent of the metaphor with the image usually works better for me than worrying so much about literal parallelism. Do I want this metaphor to feel melancholic, bright, hopeful, uncomfortable, creepy? Really clinging to that and running with it can lead to some unexpected (and sometimes illogical) places. I once wrote a line, "slipping through front-tooth gaps in time like pond water through soft-cupped hands," and my first inclination was to erase it because I thought "front-tooth gaps in time" didn't make any sense. But it felt like what I wanted to say, so I left it, and now it's one of my favorite little lines I've ever written. So. Don't be afraid to run with the feeling and see where it leads!

WOW THAT IS A BOOK 😂 Sorry for rambling, but apparently I like to talk craft! 🤪 If you ever want some more personalized feedback feel free to send me a DM! Thank you so much for the ask! 🥰

[writingstarling]

The Library That’s Covered In Dust

DISCLAIMER: This is a fan translation, so 110% accuracy is not guaranteed. However, we did our best to keep it as close to the original as possible without breaking English.

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The place that the Survey Corps decided to take shelter from the rain was in an old castle that had a strong structure, regardless.  The echoing sound of rainfall beating against the large windows created a noisy atmosphere.

“No way… What a mountain of treasure!! Those ancient writings… If I could read them that would be nice. What the!? I still can’t decode this!”

That backside of someone who was lively as ever, merrily searching for documents was Hanji’s.

“Oi, Kuso-Megane. Did you let your squad members free to roam the place, leisurely?”

“Ah, Levi? That’s not the case because Moblit is taking care of everyone’s concerns. He’s an excellent and valuable subordinate, isn’t he?”

Without looking back, Hanji searched through the books – various types of ancient documents and picture scrolls, that were in this room which seemed to be a library in the past. She tried to pull a book from a place much higher up than her own height, and staggered.

“Ohhh!!”

“Tch!”

Because mountains of books were caused to fall down, altogether, he barely managed to snatch the neck of her jacket, pulling her out of the way.

“Uwaa… You saved me, Levi. If I was hit by such a large amount of books, it would have been a spot that would make my head strange.”

“Don’t worry. It wouldn’t become any weirder. Honestly, you should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

Hanji corrected her hanging, dislocated goggles. She then brushed the dust off of the book she had taken out.

“This book here, for example… This old castle that exists inside the walls, there are many books and stored supplies written with letters that we can’t read right now. Such historic ruins are dotted in great number inside the walls. Seems like an extinct civilization, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me the extent of your outlook. After all, I know your head is sharp. This is why I tell you that your life is important. If it weren’t for me being here right now and you were hit in a fragile place, the bones of your neck would have been broken.”

“You’re kind.”

Levi felt as though he were annoyed. He even made a face as if to show he was in a bad mood. He hates his own character being expressed with such words.

“You say this on purpose, knowing that I don’t like it.”

“Ah ha ha! Saw right through me, huh?”

Hanji, then, sat of the floor with a thump. She opened a book while lifting her face.

“What sort of business is it, so soon?  You came to see me, didn’t you?”

“Ah. It’s about Eren. He wants permission to roam around this old castle, that as a military, we give the approval for him to come out of the basement.”

“It’s safe. The outer walls here were build using a solid method of construction. Furthermore, in the unlikely event that Eren transforms into a titan and busts through the roof, there are a good number of footholds on the tower for our maneuvering equipment……. Ah, if only I could understand the meanings of these pictures while cramming in the impressions of these books and such…” Hanji said, carelessly.

“Understood. That helps…Also…”

“Yes?”

“Before searching the place, dry the clothes on your body. It’s unseemly that your shirt is showing through.”

He points at the fire in a fireplace which was probably lit by Moblit who was worried about the soaking wet superior officer. Levi glared at her with a look in his eyes as if looking at raw garbage.

“Understood. It would be good if I read over there.”

Levi sighed at the view of Hanji’s back as she slowly moved to position herself before the fireplace, and then he left the room.

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NOTES: “Raw Garbage” is the literal translation of the word “Namagomi”; nama meaning “raw” and “gomi” meaning “trash”. Interestingly, “nama” can also mean “crude” if used colloquially. I’m not sure if this is the case with “Namagomi”, however given the context, the scenario it’s being used in, it makes me wonder if he meant crude. Yes, I know the ending sounds rude, but ya gotta remember, this is Levi, the guy who’s bad at expressing himself. He obviously doesn’t look down on her because he was just telling her that her life is important, that he knows she’s smart. CHANGES MADE: Apparently because of the way it was worded, 「お見通しか」Hanji was noting that Levi saw through her (not her through him). When glaring at Hanji, it spoke of the expression in his own eyes, not hers. Thanks to a friend for pointing these out!

[writingstarling]

Thank you for the very quick reply. It’s a shame that it’s very unlikely for me to read it too, but it can’t be helped.

Time for me to wallow in more pain elsewhere, as we all probably do.

I really do appreciate the speedy response and information, thank you so much.

Damn this hurts... Hange... :(

[writingstarling]

After everything that's happened leading up to chapter 139, this gives a new set of pain...

Shelter from the Rain Vol. 01 Levi & Moblit Berner

Heavy drops of water poured down from an ashen sky to beat against the stone pavement.

"Whoa, there… What should I do now?" said the man as he ran under the store's eaves, his hands full of paper bags. A customer already inside replied to him in a surly voice.

"…It's just a passing shower."

"Captain Levi!" the man said as he tried to give a salute, nearly dropping all his belongings in the process.

"As you were. You… You're Hange's aide, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir! Vice Captain of the Fourth Squad, Moblit Berner."

"Running errands?"

"Yes, buying books and medicine, as well as daily necessities for the Squad Leader… And you, Captain?"

"Erwin summoned me. He said it's not something we can talk about in the barracks."

"…And you're not taking a carriage?"

"They kick up mud whenever they stop."

"I see," Moblit said, recalling that when out of battle, Levi was obsessed with cleanliness.

******

Captain Levi is the complete opposite of Squad Leader. But… I know the two trust one another.

A special kind of bond from spending many years together. It's something that Moblit didn't have with his commanding officer. He felt something similar to envy building inside, but Levi only looked towards the rain clouds and began to talk, almost as if reflecting to himself.

"Must be hard being an aide for someone like that."

"What do you mean?"

"If something interests Hange enough, Hange will ignore everything else--including your life."

"…I consider it as my job to protect my leader at times like that."

"Yeah. It's a job that only you can do."

"Hm…?"

Moblit was unable to fully understand the depth of the words, but Levi continued, his eyes still turned away.

"No matter how far back we go, it's not like we're stuck together all day long. You're the only one who's always by Hange's side, Moblit."

The pouring rain had began to turn into a light drizzle, and the clouds went flying by in the sky.

"Be more confident. I know you can't always stay upbeat, but still."

I see… So he's asking me to keep taking care of Hange.

******

Before they knew it, the rain had disappeared. Sunbeams shone through the clouds to illuminate the two men under the eaves.

"It's cleared up. Now give me those."

"Wait, Captain! You know that one's heavy!"

Levi grabbed one of the paper bags from Moblit's hands and walked into the open. Without so much as looking back, he urged Moblit to do the same.

"We're going back to the same barracks, anyway. It wouldn't be bad to have Hange owe me one."

"…I just hope the Squad Leader notices that you're even there, Captain."

"That's easy enough to solve with a kick in the ass," Levi said.

Walking behind him, Moblit couldn't help but smile as he imagined an embarrassed grin on Captain Levi's face.

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[writingstarling]

Damn why does everything hurt me like this. Also where did you get that book from it looks so well written I wanna read it as well @warm-starlight 😔

Damn this hurts... Hange... :(

[writingstarling]

Moving On

This is set in pre Be Forever Yorozuya, also this is my first ever okikagu fic so it might suck but I tried so please be gentle-

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The harsh pitter-patter of raindrops smacked the cold, smooth surface of stone hedges. Each stone names of someone no longer present, all in the same calligraphy work.  In the bitter rain, a figure leaned on one of the stone hedges. Vermillion hair flattened against cold stone; sticky from having no coverage in the rain.

Splish! Splash! Footsteps echoed in the vicious downpour. Inching closer to the redhead with each step. The redhead, however, didn’t spare the sound any notoriety.

“What are you doing here? I should fine you for loitering.”

“...Go away.”

“Huh, that’s even less bite than usual. You’re going soft, China.”

Kagura glared at the older man but remained taciturn. Electing to return her focus to the stone her short hair clung to the very next second. Sougo sighed, extending his olive branch of an umbrella towards the girl. Her glare reappeared with extra vigour.

“Go away, I don’t want your charity, yes,” her voice barely coherent against the boisterous rain. Too tired, too sick, too dismal to reign grief from beginning to make itself home.

He scoffed, “Sadly, this isn’t charity, it’s part of my job.”

“But the Shinsengumi-”

“Not as a police officer.” He paused for a moment. “It was a request from Danna.”

Kagura’s eyes widened. Surprise and hope mixed into her once dull cerulean orbs, giving it a shadow of its old sparkle. She launched off the ground, clutching onto Sougo’s collar like a lifeline. The soft tingle of hope tickled the edges of her heart. “Gin-chan!? You met up with Gin-chan!? Where is he, yes!?”

Sougo stumbled back from the force, but by planting a firm foot on the pavement and realigning his centre of gravity, he stabilized his position. He sported a frown with eyebrows pinched in the middle. “Calm down, it’s not what you think. He asked me to do that on the day he disappeared, I haven't seen him since.”

Gradually her grip slackened, fingers sinking down his torso as her expression morphed into one of heartbreak; glistening eyes sealed with unshed tears and trembling lips. The sliver of hope swallowed by the cold as she plunged back into darkness.

“What,” her voice cracked, and she directed her attention to her sopping wet shoes. “What did he say?”

She could feel the pull of the fabric at her fingertips, riding up and down ever so slightly heaved by the movement of his shoulders. “He asked me to look after you when you start doing something stupid, this is probably one of them.”

Confusion was the first to make its presence known; questions bounced in her head at her guardian’s choice of person. Next was disgust, pointed at her guardian’s choice; her mortal enemy should’ve been the last person to ask for such a favour. Lastly, the undeniable warmth creeping into her heart.

“Stupid Gin-chan, as if a small Chihuahua like you can look after me, yes.” Despite her words, she couldn’t bite back the smile on her face.

“Heh, you’re finally starting to get back into character,” Sougo heckled. “You were so OOC I thought I had the wrong person.”

He continued, “Being the sappy, dramatic heroine doesn’t fit you, being a gluttonous, ugly geroine is more your class.”

“What did you say, you bastard Sadist!?”

“Huuh, are you deaf as well now? I said being a gluttonous, ugly geroine is more fitting for pigs like you!”

“I’ll fricking kill you!” Kagura sent a playful punch to Sougo’s chest; not as strong as her normal punches, but still painful enough to elicit a grunt from the blonde.

Giggling lightly, Kagura pressed her forehead where she had punched him before, subconsciously following the rise and fall of his chest. Somehow, she began to understand why Gintoki had chosen him; though it’d be a cold day in hell before she admits it.

“Thank you, stupid Sadist,” she whispered. 

Tense muscles fell lax as she slumped into Sougo’s figure who — to her surprise — didn’t sidestep to let her plummet and call her the nicknames he frequented in his list. Instead, his body tensed slightly, before sagging down against her, moulding into her form as if she had been a part of him all along. Kagura let it pass, opting on revelling in the tinge of warmth emanating from him.

She felt a puff of air brush the top of her head. A sigh, she guessed. “Didn’t I just tell you? Being a sappy, dramatic heroine doesn’t fit you.”

His chest vibrated, tugging her head along the rhythm, as a snicker passed through his mug. “Looking like an idiot is more your thing, so stop acting OOC and go back to making that stupid smile of yours.”

Heat crawled up her cheeks, dominating her entire face. Confusion, disgust, and warmth resurfacing with a new set of emotions she couldn’t label. Suddenly quelled by the frenzy of unintelligible emotions and questions invading her mind, her fist lunged for his stomach. 

“Who-Whose smile is stupid, yes!?” she shrieked.

Sougo staggered backwards. Hands clutched on his abdomen; his umbrella flung into the mud, forgotten. He groaned, “You brat, I was being nice and this is how you repay me?”

“Shut up! What part of that was nice, yes!?”

“I went out of my way to comfort an ugly pig like you and you can’t even be grateful.” He sighed, shaking his head. “How does Danna even train you?”

“What do you mean “train”, you damn Chihuahua, I’m not some animal, yes!”

“I beg the differ, Ms Piggy.”

Soon enough, they fell into a familiar cadence of battle. Insults and blows exchanged, never missing a beat in the symphony of their affray despite the unaccommodating weather. A sense of normality wormed its way into her heart. As if their planet wasn’t contaminated by a deadly virus; as if there’s no other problem in her life than the constant worry for money; as if her guardian wasn’t missing and presumed dead; as if nothing had changed at all. 

Drained, bruised, and panting, they lay on the cool cement. Embracing the fleeting cold touches showered by nature.

“Hey, Sadist,” Kagura called, her eyes glued to the grey sky above.

“What?”

“You should grow your hair out, yes.”

“Why?” his tone incredulous to the point she could feel him cock an eyebrow.

“I think it’d look good.”

Sougo gave a thoughtful “hmm”. “...Sure, why not.”

“But,” he added, “you have to grow yours too.”

Kagura chuckled. “Alright, yes.”

It was a step. Small, unconventional, useless, perhaps. Still, she was moving beyond the endless loop she wanted to trap herself in; she was moving towards the future. Little by little, she was moving on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I haven’t written anything in so long so this probably sucks but I tried so, at least I have that-

[writingstarling]

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat’s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

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HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

[writingstarling]

Reblog if you would be devastated if you found out one of your followers committed suicide.

[writingstarling]

Finally, seated on the bed they shared he asked, “Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation. A moment to drop the topic as a mere scatterbrained comment let loose by fatigue. But he needed to know. “Why are you doing this?”

There was a shuffle before she spoke, “Why am I brushing my hair?” A slight giggle at the edges of her question.

On normal terms he would've entertained her with a roll of his eyes. Sometimes even a reply laced with jovial sarcasm. However, normal terms were beyond him at that time.

“Why do you wait for me late at night when you aren't used to staying up late?” and a thousand questions untold hung in the air beyond his intention.

There was the sound of wood on wood before her voice came airing through from the echoes, “Why do you always carry me to bed when I fall asleep waiting for you?”

He was speechless at first. Twisting his head to protest against her denial of an answer. Instead he stared into her eyes, embers of newborn stars crackling fiercely. Her smile full of fangs ready to lunge. His protests died in his throat.

He complied to her wishes and his mind wandered. Etiquette came first. It was true, natural. His uprising dictated him for the properness; hers was no different. But he knew that even a fool wouldn’t dare to say so. Not with her eyes full of hungry flames and her smile ready to sink her fangs when the time was ripe.

So he reasoned with himself. If it were etiquette, it wouldn’t have been necessary for even the maids had went to bed at that time. He had dismissed them so, and never once did he catch his maids roaming the halls after his order. So it wasn’t quite etiquette, he concluded.

He discarded the thought and looked around to find himself scarce of even the slightest ideas. It was something they had to be able to do in unison. One of the miniscule similarities they own. But he had not the barest hint.

He knew he was doomed the moment she began to stir. Before peeling herself off the vanity chair and inching closer to the bed they share with each footfall. 

""However," he started, oceans crashed in his eyes, "you do not love me as I love you, do you?" Her smile did not reach her eyes. However, it was not false, as it was tender and genuine all the same. For her smile was not the smile of the sun basking us with its healing light, nor was it the moon that lit a path for us in the taunting darkness of night; it was the tears of the rain when the weight it bore was far too much and nothing else could be done than to let it all fall."

Words for a story I might never write about a woman who had such an oddly specific taste in romance she gave up on it and gave herself for her father to be wed away in an arranged marriage. The marriage was set in a year, and in that year she met the man she had dreamt upon that would fulfill all her fantasies of romance. They fell in love with each other.

However, she was a woman full of integrity and just. She kept her end of the promise to help her father and continued on with her arranged marriage despite her father breaking the deal. She had set it up again with her fiancé when he did. She married her arranged husband and although a large part of her heart still belonged to her ideal man, she cared and catered herself to her husband with the devotion and love of a woman who was deeply in love. She loved him by choice and her husband came to fall in love for her. Still, the husband knows how his wife's heart belongs to another.

Still she was stubborn, that woman and refused her husband's suggestion of divorce for the sake of her chasing her true love. And so they move on with their lives. The ideal man came to know of another woman and fell in love once more, albeit never forgetting of his first. And the couple continued to live, the love in their hearts never wavering and they settle into their lives, content and full of love.

[writingstarling]

“Emotional abuse works like this: You are screamed at, and then, not knowing any better, you stand up for yourself. You think this is a way of being strong. You think this is a defense tactic.But this only provokes more screaming. Going silent provokes more screaming too, but usually it keeps the threats to the minimum. It keeps it just at screaming and not: a shove down the stairs, or order to pack your stuff and get out. So you learn how to go silent. How to play dead. How to cry without making a noise. How to swallow noise. How to wipe your cheeks, get out of the car, and go about your day. You learn. And when the screaming has stopped, when the two of you are in the car or out to dinner and they’re all smiles, all asking for favors, all questions, you are still hurt and annoyed and want to ask them, how? How can you speak to me like that? How can you pretend you did not say those things? How can you have forgotten? But you’ve learned. So you listen to, “Can I borrow your key”s and “how was your day”s and you play dead. You swallow the noise. And sometimes it doesn’t matter who is speaking to you, it doesn’t matter if they’re a friend, it doesn’t matter if their criticism is constructive, it doesn’t matter. You’ve learned. Any sort of speaking, any raising of the voice, any insult and you play dead.”

— Good Girl, Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

[writingstarling]

Here. Have kudos on that fanfic you wrote in your head while you were in the shower and never typed it out. When I recover from the brilliance of it, I’ll come back to leave a review.

[writingstarling]

SOMEONE ACTUALLY DID IT, I'M SO HAPPY. AND THE WRITING IS AMAZING!

Aaaaaa I can't wait for the next one, thank you sooo much!

Is it just me, or do y'all also want a story scenario that instead of Princess Zelda, we have Prince Link?

Like, their roles are still the same. Zelda incarnate of goddess Hylia and Link the Hero of Hyrule. But imagine instead of Zelda being exposed to royalty all these times, it's Link that gets that treatment since the day he was born and Zelda being the once nobody but suddenly has magical powers. And in every story we know how Link's task other than defeating Ganon or whatever evil is to rescue or protect Zelda right?

Now, hear me out. Imagine having this prince who's used to being waited on, whether he wishes so or not, suddenly being tasked to find this girl named "Zelda" from all those legends he's heard of and then rise up to being this big hero while as well protecting and working together with a girl he's never met that holds no social status in her name other than her legend.

Imagine the shock of it all when the royal family decided to name this son of theirs "Link" in honour of the Hero or smth and have their son become it without prior knowledge whatsoever. Since it has always been Zelda that's in royalty after all. Imagine looking at this prince that has no idea on what's happening suddenly having to face off an incarnate of a god of evil and protect someone when he himself is used to being protected all his life.

I honestly really want to see him struggle and rise to be the Hero his name is so famous for. I want to see him learn how to wield a sword like how SS Link first did. Someone who didn't need this knowledge and skill suddenly have to train himself to be the best at it??? Link learning basic life skills from Zelda, the angst of him doubting in himself like BOTW Zelda did, the feeling of discovery and just the joy of accomplishment he's going to feel everytime he manages to defeat a Bokoblin on his own or just managing to light a campfire without any advance tools or help.

I just want for once Link to be the clueless prince in all this without having a role swap between them. I want to see him being this Prince that has been protected all his life learn how to actually be independent and stand on his own. Even better, learn to protect others not just using his name, but physically sacrificing himself for his people.

Why am I specifically referring to only Link in all this? Because Zelda has actually been in a position where her name holds no privilege. SS Zelda wasn't someone worthy of much noting in her society before everyone discovered she was the incarnate of a goddess. (She was also a pirate, but technically being a captain's daughter is still some form of royalty to me)

But Link has always been this nameless child that rised up to be a hero. A nobody that swooped in and saved the day coming from all sorts of places. The only time Link was truly acknowledged from an early start was in BOTW, other than that, no one really blinked at Link with much acknowledgement to his name.

I wanna see Link struggle like BOTW Zelda. I wanna see him learn basic skills and feel this overwhelming accomplishment from managing to cook up this recipe that Zelda taught him. I wanna see him being scared of everything going on around him, but having the courage to face everything still. I wanna see Link, after having his heritage revealed to him by having that symbol on his hand like TP did or smth, spend casual time with Zelda other than just swooping in or knowing her just because he has to save her all of a sudden. I want a relationship between them like what SS and BOTW had.

I wanna see this prince strive to train himself and become worthy of the Master Sword. I wanna see this prince that has always had everything handed to him on a silver platter work his ass off to be worthy of his legacy. I wanna see him grow from a seemingly fragile prince into this strong, dependable young man that is on par to his ancestors before him.

And on the side, I wanna see his parents being supportive of him. Not just because of the calamity closing in and them having to rely on their son to have him save them all, but because they truly love and cherish their son and want him to fulfill his destiny. They might have not named him that on purpose, but they sure are gonna support him to the best of their abilities.

Link needs to learn how to wield a sword? The captain of the guards is gonna take some time off to train the prince.

He can't seem to figure out how to do what the trainer tells him to?? The king tries it out and when he succeeds he's gonna try to teach Link how to do it himself.

Link has been training exceptionally hard even in harsh winter??? The queen's gonna work hard too and knit him some gloves (or at least, try to).

Link is feeling unworthy and depressed because he's been unable to master the sword???? The king and queen take time off from their duties to comfort their son.

Just, let me see soft familial relationships. Don't always just omit their parents or make them a sort of ass (looking at you here, BOTW Rhoam). I want good parents that raised good kids. That are supportive of them and what they love.

For Zelda, I'm pretty content with one who's like SS Zelda. A normal girl merely enjoying life suddenly bombarded with a destiny to help seal away an evil incarnate with a boy who's supposed to be an incarnate of a legendary hero. A boy who wields a sword worse than her. A boy who doesn't know a lick about how to survive on his own. A boy who is still wandering through the dark in all of this, same as her. She herself still doesn't understand the extent or how to use her powers, and no one to teach her. The least they could do for each other was to be of solace for one another when things are getting tough and one needed comforting. To hold each other's hand through it all. To not be alone in the dark.

I want all the potential fluff and angst I can get from this AU. They're both scared for they don't know of their destiny until the time is short and the burden of it all is far much too large for their shoulders. But they can lean on each other. Better yet, they also have people supporting them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

I wish I can write this on my own, but my writing skills have been failing me these past few months so I really wish someone would take this up and write it.

PS: if someone really did write this out, please, please, please, ping me. I desperately wish to read it.

[writingstarling]

Reblog if Fan Fics are just as valid as Fan Art

Affirmation for writers, please!!

Likes do nothing!!

[writingstarling]

how to draw arms ? ? 

[writingstarling]

““However,” he started, oceans crashed in his eyes, “you do not love me as I love you, do you?” Her smile did not reach her eyes. However, it was not false, as it was tender and genuine all the same. For her smile was not the smile of the sun basking us with its healing light, nor was it the moon that lit a path for us in the taunting darkness of night; it was the tears of the rain when the weight it bore was far too much and nothing else could be done than to let it all fall.”

Words for a story I might never write about a woman who had such an oddly specific taste in romance she gave up on it and gave herself for her father to be wed away in an arranged marriage. The marriage was set in a year, and in that year she met the man she had dreamt upon that would fulfill all her fantasies of romance. They fell in love with each other.

However, she was a woman full of integrity and just. She kept her end of the promise to help her father and continued on with her arranged marriage despite her father breaking the deal. She had set it up again with her fiancé when he did. She married her arranged husband and although a large part of her heart still belonged to her ideal man, she cared and catered herself to her husband with the devotion and love of a woman who was deeply in love. She loved him by choice and her husband came to fall in love for her. Still, the husband knows how his wife's heart belongs to another.

Still she was stubborn, that woman and refused her husband's suggestion of divorce for the sake of her chasing her true love. And so they move on with their lives. The ideal man came to know of another woman and fell in love once more, albeit never forgetting of his first. And the couple continued to live, the love in their hearts never wavering and they settle into their lives, content and full of love.

[writingstarling]

Sweetness in Tranquility (BOTW Zelink)

Zelda was strolling through a small forest a little outside of Castletown; embraced by the sweet air nipping at her skin. She had taken the chance of her knight attendant’s absence to enjoy this moment of solitude. Perhaps she had finally been acquainted to her knight attendant and was treading on friendly terms, but once in a while she missed the feeling of solitude when often times so many eyes were on her with expectations. Of course, she didn’t think of her knight attendant as one of them, but she never really could feel at peace with that thought.

The slight rumble of her tummy brought her out of her intense research on the flowers swaying powerlessly at the mercy of the wind. She considered returning to the castle, but she didn’t want to let her peace escape her fingertips just yet. With that in mind she decided to search for some berries or fruits to satiate her hunger, even if it was just temporarily. It didn’t take long for her to discover a delectable scarlet fruit dangling on a thin branch.

Her relatively small hands took hostage the lowest and second lowest branches to propel herself higher with the help of her legs. Branch by branch she rose, until finally she reached the desire of her rumbling stomach. With one arm outstretched and the other encircling the nearest branch, she tried to reach the bright red apple. Zelda’s brows furrowed in focus, legs forced to push herself further. The literal apple of her eye was before her just a few inches away. Bit by bit she began to release her grip on the branch in order to go further. Finally, with only her hand holding onto the branch, she managed to capture the desire of her heart.

A feeling of accomplishment flooded her chest and a warm buzz snaked its way to her. In the slight instance her tense muscles relaxed, she was left careening down with little to no less registration and nothing to catch herself with. Her eyes clenched in preparation as her arms shielded her face the best it could.

Zelda felt her body collide with something. Too tense and well-structured to be a convenient bush nearby; too soft and comforting to be the ground she had her feet planted on minutes ago. She shifted her arms to create a gap and peeked through. Before her was… an almost indescribable figure with the head of what seemed to be an ancient entity and the body of a normal – slightly well-built – human. He was fashioned in a simple cream hylian tunic paired along with a pair of basil green shorts. The mask – she decided to assume – the person wore was one that would fascinate her if she weren’t so befuddled with its existence.

“Thank- thank you, can you, please put me down?” Silently the figure complied, gently placing her leaned onto the base of the tree.

On the ground, Zelda grasped at the chance to take the mask her saviour wore under deeper scrutiny. It was shaped similar to a heart as the base with spikes sprouting from it, two on top and four others on each of its lower sides. Each horn goldish-yellow with a smudge of different colour on every one, twinning only with its neighbour across. The heart was a mix of several colours; much of its higher part is coloured a royal purple and the rest of it mostly a crimson red, lined with intricate and ancient designs of various colours. Lastly, the most nerving feature of said mask was the pair of parakeet eyes boring at her with its flame coloured sclera.

The time she took letting her curiosity feast upon its new interest distracted her from the hand drawn towards her with the goal of her little journey and near pain resting comfortably on it. She voiced her gratitude before releasing her saviour from his small additional burden. Her stomach yearned for her to the very least have a nibble at the scarlet fruit, but her mind was keen and too well-trained in mannerism to allow herself to display such rudeness. Instead she merely placed the fruit on her lap and endeavoured to strike a conversation with her saviour. Perhaps even inquire him of the origins of his mask.

“Would, you like to sit down?” Zelda gestured towards the space beside her.

The figure remained silent – contemplating her offer, perhaps – before giving her a nod and shuffling towards her; settling down, nuzzled by the lush greenery with a respectful distance between them. They rested under the graceful shade of the vigorous tree, silence enveloping them in an awkward, yet somehow comfortable ambience. Zelda toyed with her apple, rolling and rubbing it whilst her mind travelled far and wide for a solution to broach the subject of said mask.

It was then that she came to a sudden awareness of her discourtesy, “Uhm, if I’m not too bold, would you mind as to give me your name?”

A pregnant pause followed her question and Zelda had nothing else to do, but be in the mercy of the mask’s vacant stare. Frankly, the stare of the mask’s eyes sent a chill crawling through her spine. It wasn’t quite simply due to its horrendous design itself; there was something else deep within her that squeezed and twisted her heart each time it was directed towards her. It was as if those same pair of eyes had stared into her very soul and–

“Do…,” his voice pierced through her train of thought, “Do you not recognise me?”

His voice was hoarse and brimmed with much hesitance, as if one mistake would cost him his life. Is her title that intimidating? was the question she tucked under her tongue. However, there was also a sense of familiarity in his voice that Zelda recognised despite the assurance she had that the voice was one she was not entirely familiar with. Perhaps it's caused by the mask, she reasoned.

“My apologies, but I do not seem to recall ever meeting someone with such a mask.”

“Mask…?” his hand shot up to the aforementioned cover. Frantically, patting away on it with something that Zelda could only deduce as sudden realisation.

A giggle threatened to burst free from her throat. For one to not realise they were wearing a mask of that size was more humorous than it was befuddling for her. Despite her pressing urge to unleash the flurry of giggles threatening to escape, the princess held her poise and regally coughed her laughter away to the side before offering her pardons.

“Pardon me, Princess,” the figure spoke, straightening himself up. His hands reached towards the mask, fiddling with the strings attached until it freed its grip from his head.

Streams of auburn hair peeked through as the mask started to unravel. A familiar shade, Zelda noted. The process unfolded in slow-motion before her eyes and a mixture of feelings was unleashed upon her in realisation. Afore her stood her knight attendant – in casual clothing, her mind supplied.

“Link?! Y-you–!” her eyes were wide as dinner plates; the finger that once toyed with her fruit was solely focused on pointing aim at Link’s figure as her body arched back by a few inches; her other hand supporting her weight and her apple rolling away, forgotten.

Link offered her no other response than a respectful bow on his knee. They remained in silence. Link unwavering in his position and Zelda taking the time to regain her lost grace and composure. Exhaling deeply, Zelda huffed before returning to her once more refined conduct.

“Link, you may rise.” The hero did as such, his body looming over her and casting another shade over her form. He stood with the squared shoulders of a well-groomed soldier. Ever so dutiful, always on guard.

“Please, sit down.” Again, the hero complied. Placing himself a tad farther than he was before, expanding the gap between them.

Zelda watched him with the intensity of a researcher, her eyes boring at him in hopes to receive – at the bitter least – some scraps of information. Alas, her knight was ever stoic in his countenances. However, other than his sapphire tunic, which she had crafted for him, she felt something else to be amiss in his appearance. Her eyes scanned him like a well-oiled machine. Determined to satisfy the mystery her mind had provided.

Then, it hit her. “Where is your sword?”

“With the Great Deku Tree. For safety,” his gaze was locked over his shoulder, where the Master Sword would usually reside. Faded grey clouds covering his brilliant sapphire eyes.

“Why didn’t you take it with you to your home town?”

Link shrugged, facing her once more, “Didn’t think I’d need it.” Didn’t want the attention, were the words that lingered in the air despite never leaving his lips.

Zelda hummed. The words that were left hovering in the air between them was something she understood well. After the day he had poured a piece of his heart to her in the small moments of vulnerability they shared behind prying eyes, she started to see the similarities between them. The hero she had berated so much was a lot like her in many ways, including his fears. The weights abruptly placed upon his shoulders were the same as hers after all.

Funny, however, she managed to receive warning. She had known her destiny since birth. It was her birth right; her legacy. She knew of what’s to come. Link, on the other hand, never had such privilege. His destiny caved upon him like a sudden boulder spat by Death Mountain himself, and even that had more apprise than what Link had received.

“That mask, might I ask where you got it?”

Link opened his mouth to speak, before his teeth met and his mouth clamed shut. But again he tried, his voice smaller than usual, “I found it in the storage of my home.”

Zelda quirked a brow. Her knight never sounded so timid; even when he spilled his deepest fears and held his heart boldly upon his sleeve, his voice held the integrity and force of a well-deserved captain. Zelda took it as cue to let her questions rest in the back of her head and deprive her curiosity of satisfaction.

“I see.”

Again they fell in silence. A silence that occurred many times before she had come to terms with him, uneasy and out of place. Zelda shifted her attention to the leaves loyally shading them from the scorching sun's glare. Drinking up every detail she could until she halted at a particular leaf.

The tips of it were shifting in colour and becoming out of sync with the rest of the flock. Summer was coming to a closure and autumn had begun to announce its arrival. It meant that the harvest crops were going to change, her meals would also shift into something more supported by the weather, and that time was passing by her fingertips as Ganon's awakening marched closer.

The thought sent shivers crawling up and down her spine. Her prayers had yielded no progress and fruited nothing but disappointment in her father's gaze. No matter what she did, she felt no power coursing through her veins; no voice in her head; and absolutely nothing other than the freezing chill that stubbornly clung onto her courtesy of the springs' waters.

But what else could she do? She had scoured every theory, practiced every method, spent hours on end standing in icy waters praying to a goddess who turned a deaf ear no matter what she did. There were no longer any cards or tricks she could even fathom to try. All she could do was pray. Pray to a statue who smiled to her in indifference to her pain.

A hand came a few inches to her face during her time staring at space. In the hand was her hard-earned fruit whom she had forgotten in the moment. She directed herself to her knight; his hand tentatively awaiting her response and a miniscule smile that whispered a thousand encouragements, more than anyone had ever given her. Her heart forgot its normal tempo.

Zelda exhaled; all of her frustration, stress, anxiety, fear, and self-deprecation in one swift breath. The other breath was her gratitude towards her companion and a smile, soft and private touched her lips as she brushed her hand against his and retrieve her appointed snack.

In this moment, there were only the two of them. No darkness sealing sword, no endless search of power, no weight forced upon their shoulders. In this moment, it was just her and her friend. In this moment, she could sit under the shade and enjoy the fruit she had rightfully earned and just breathe. In that moment, she took a bite.

It tasted sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so... this took an unexpected turn. I actually started this about a few weeks ago and after that I only continued it about a few days ago so it's probably confusing bc I forgot what I planned to go with this. So if you're confused it's alright! Bc I too am lol. But I posted it still bc after rereading it I think it would still make sense? So here it is.

Btw, this is my first LoZ fanfic so I hope this went well with you all. Cheers!

[writingstarling]

Right, lemme giv you all a little fun fact that I find ironic. I am not just a normal non cat person, I'm absolutely terrified of those slit-irised creatures. If you ask why, I wouldn't know as well, I just suddenly am.

But the thing is, cats are somehow drawn to me.

Did they smell the fear I radiated when I first spotted them? Probably did.

And so begins my life of being approached by cats as I do my best of running away without alarming them and have them feel threatened by me like I am to them.

Whether You’re a Cat Person or Not, Having a Cat Be Drawn to You Hits Different Than Having a Dog Be Drawn to You