#second draft

[faux-ecrivain]

Draft 2 of the demon king request

(I believe this was one of the drafts that @a-bookworms-teashop helped me polish. This was also an intro for the demon king x hero reader, but it ultimately didn’t make the cut. Why was it rejected? Well, it needed more dialog and since I want to fulfill each request perfectly this draft was scrapped.)

(Unedited) Once upon a time there was a strong courageous hero destined to defeat the evil demon king and through many trials, and tribulation, the hero had eventually defeated the demon king. Of course, the people rejoiced and celebrated this win for years to come, at least that’s what they say. However, the truth is after you had defeated the demon king, there was but a brief celebration then everything went back to normal and you were simply another forgotten hero.

             The only one that didn’t seem to forget you was the demon king. Who continues resurrecting and often goes out of his way to court you, but that wasn’t entirely abnormal. As you have made many friends, and many enemies, that seem to have gotten the idea that you have intention of romancing them. No idea how or why, but they do think that and it’s caused you to relocate many times. Luckily your garden was unharmed throughout the entire ordeal and perseveres despite how often the world seems intent on destroying the only joy present in your life.

        Speaking of which, you are currently tending to your garden, you relished in the peace of the afternoon and the warmth of the sun. There’s a rare smile of your face and for once the world seems alright. Sure, sometimes your mind will drift back to the times of your adventures and you’ll feel a yearning to travel once more, however you never go through with such thoughts. As you were busy pruning your rose bushes, something blocks your sun and causes a shadow to envelop your bush. 

        You frown and whip your head up to face whomever is blocking your light, your anger quickly turns into annoyance once you realize that the one standing before you is the demon king himself. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” A sneer left your mouth, showing just how unhappy you are with his presence.

#yandere oc #my writing #yandere x reader #enjoy this short fanfic! #gn reader #not the best #fanfic #Draft #rough draft #drafts #second draft #Demon king x gn hero reader

[adventuresofmelody]

Ok. So I have decided to share with y’all, the first chapter of the novel I’m writing! I’ve been working on it for 5 years, and after an excessive editing process I’m fairly pleased with it. Let me know, if you happen to read it, what you think though please.

Without further ado, The Fallen’s Outcry, Chapter 1

One man that people should not test above most else is the devil. That’s something we’ve been taught for as long as the devil existed. However, there are a select few that could test the devil and live to tell the tale. One who held the man’s respect. One who held the man’s fear. Or one who held the man’s heart. Few held his respect. Fewer still held his fear. But there was only one, who held his heart. After multiple lifetimes without the love of his being, Lucifer was finally reunited with Morgana, the only woman who had ever wormed her way into his heart. He hadn’t admitted it in her absence, but he had missed her greatly, more so than he had originally thought. He missed her eyes, and they way they’d sparkle when she laughed. He missed her voice, the way it seemed to soothe every ache in his soul. He missed her touch, the way it seemed to immediately calm him and bring him joy. However, since her return from the realm of purgatory, that cold, dulled place where it felt worse than the fires of hell themselves in Lucifer’s humble opinion, she had changed. Gone was that sparkle in her eye, replaced with hard determination. Gone was the soothing cadence in her voice, replaced with an almost raw grit that panged him every time he heard it. And gone was her calming touch, replaced by an absence of which he was unfamiliar with. He called it an adjustment period. She just needed time. Time to get used to things like warmth, color, and actual food. She would return to him. She had to. She was home now.

Lucifer took pride in three things: One, his ability to remain calm. Two, his ability to keep a clean dwelling. And three, his ability to enjoy a good drink. After being awake for a total of one week, Morgana was testing his ability to do all three things. After a reunion that was worthy of being written in the stars, she delivered a swift kiss to his cheek and disappeared into his study, where she tore through his library with reckless abandon. She ripped books from shelves and tore pages out of tomes older than she was. She knocked down shelves, overturned tables. It was as though she was trying to find a sewing pin amongst the heaviest and thickest books in his collection. It took him three days to clean up that mess.

After that, she went into a rage, refusing to assist him in his work or even partake in pleasant conversation. She went on about the fact that her confinement wasn’t fair, that them being placed in hell wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. She raged about how unjust the system was, and how rigged He had made things after the fall. How deities were given fates worse than death and how the demons in Lucifer’s realm were looked at as second class citizens, while angels could roam the cosmos, going wherever they pleased with nary a system for checking their whereabouts. Lucifer took it in stride, meeting all her complaints with a cool comment and a glass of wine. That is, until the day that she threw his favorite bottle of whiskey into the fireplace. That was the day he lost his cool.

“Alcohol does not grow on trees down here.” He seethed, glaring at the fireplace with an almost pouty scowl. Morgana immediately softened, recognizing that she had gone a step too far.

“I am just frustrated.” She answered, her voice softer than he had heard in a while. However, it still held that edge, that grit. And that kept his ire firmly in place.

“Yes.” He paced in front of the fire. “And your frustration is leaking over onto me.”

“My love, you cannot blame me.” She started, moving over to Lucifer’s expansive bar. He watched her as he paced and tried to calm himself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She tinkered, pouring a bit of this and a bit of that into a glass, shaking it almost expertly before pouring it into a glass. Huh, a martini. He hadn’t had one of those in a while. He kept up his breathing, feeling a little more calm now. She brought it to him as he stopped pacing, his fingers brushing hers as he took the glass from her grasp. He smirked as a light blush covered her cheeks, pleased with himself that he could still cause a reaction from her other than anger after all this time. Morgana sighed, the sound seeming to deflate her frail body.

“There has to be something we can do.” She mused. He took a sip of the martini and fought not to make a face. It had been a long time since he had tasted a drink that was not in some form or fashion whiskey. But that jarring taste was enough for him to feel the remaining anger draining away from himself. Finally, he was calm again. He watched Morgana as her eyes darted sharply, as though she was hearing things he could not. Or listening to things he couldn’t hope to. Her eyes never lost that edge of determination though. He swore she slept with that look. He took another drink and gave her his best neutral expression, despite the sympathy he couldn’t help but let into his bright blue fire eyes.

“If there was anything that could be done, I would have already looked into it.” He answered her, watching her with that casual stare as she finally sat, folding herself gracefully onto a nearby chair. Lucifer didn’t move from his spot, just watched and waited.

“I heard a rumor while I was in purgatory.” She said carefully. He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise offered no reaction.

“I imagine you heard a great many of those. Especially given my feelings for you.”

“No, you don’t understand.” She took a breath. “I heard a rumor that, if proven true, could give us our lives back.” Now that was a dangerous line of thought. Lucifer wanted to immediately shut it down, to convince her to leave it lie. She didn’t understand, having been lost before the great battle. She didn’t know what His army had done, what the fallen angels had faced. The horrors that came about before the brief respite of peace that they now all seemed to live in. He wanted to tell her right then all the dangers, all the reasons why they could not think of these things. But he didn’t want to break her completely, and he thought being exposed to the horrors that He had unleashed in the name of peace would do just that. After a great pause, he continued their conversation, trying to shut her down gently.

“Morgana, we cannot think of these things.” Lucifer told her softly, a brief shake of his head.

“I heard Gabriel say He was no longer in power.” She argued. He raised his eyebrows. When had she spoken to his brother. She shrugged at the raise of his eyebrows. Ah. She wasn’t talking about it then. Lucifer gave one curt nod, deciding to ignore that aspect of the statement entirely.

“That’s true. But He won’t be out of power forever.” Morgana stood up, as though she had been filled with renewed vigor.

“Which is why we need to act.” Lucifer sat his glass to the side, panic beginning to set in. He tried his best not to show how nervous her statements made him, tried to deescalate the situation by checking her facts.

“What makes you think these rumors you heard are true, my dear?” he asked her. She grinned eagerly at him, thinking he was interested in her rumors, her theories, her plans.

“The man who told me of this, he mentioned the Olympians.” She said. Now Lucifer was intrigued. The Olympians believed themselves to be gods, and were even worshiped for a while as such. However, at the time of the fall, they too were cast out. Some were exterminated, of course. Made an example of. But no one remained in paradise with Him. No one was spared some form of punishment. At least, no one he knew of. But while they were cast out, they were not cast down to him. They must have been given their own punishment realms. Or perhaps…Perhaps they were in purgatory with Morgana. How cruel was that, to keep the people that could for sure set free the fallen so close, and yet none of the fallen truly knew. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? One clearly did. One who was still in purgatory. One who told his Morgana about this in the first place. Feigning disinterest, Lucifer picked back up his glass, taking a drink of the martini. He almost choked, having forgot for a moment what he was drinking. He really did need more variety in his alcoholic beverages. Beside him, oblivious to his struggles, Morgana nodded.

“He mentioned one Olympian in particular. Which is why my attention was caught to begin with.” She said. Lucifer leaned forward.

“Which one?”

“Zeus.” She said his name with a tone that said she knew Lucifer’s attention would be caught with this knowledge. She wasn’t wrong. He was very much interested now. Lucifer knew the location of a couple of the banished ‘gods’. He knew the fate of a few others, ones that no longer existed after the fall. But the trio that he did not know were Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. And knowledge to the location of the three of them, well. It could be powerful. He set the drink aside again, no longer interested in it.

“Who gave you this information?”

“I told you that already. A man in purgatory.”

“His name?” Lucifer could find him from here if she had his name. Names were something he was familiar with.

“No. I….I never asked. His cell was down the hall from mine.” She shifted, looking more than a little embarrassed. She no doubt knew that Lucifer dabbled in names, and that he could have easily found the man’s file had she been smart enough to take his name. Lucifer watched her, saying nothing. He couldn’t be angry at her for not asking the man’s name. She wasn’t sure she was ever getting out after all. And if that man was on the same floor as her, well. It was no wonder he never saw him. While Lucifer was granted permission to visit a few souls in purgatory, Morgana’s entire floor was off limits to him. He didn’t learn that until he was on his way to getting her back however. He shook his head, tuning himself back into the conversation as Morgana continued,

“He claimed he had been given information about the location of Poseidon by Zeus himself. Even described him to the letter.” Lucifer was definitely interested in that. More interested than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want to get Morgana excited for nothing. He looked at her, trying to study her face. Despite how much he was trying not to excite her, he could read the eagerness in her eyes.

“Can you remember the cell number you were placed in?” he asked her. She shook her head.

“The cell I was in was on a separate level. Down below. It was dark. I wasn’t…I’m still not sure….” The harsh glint in Morgana’s eyes wasn’t reflecting determination anymore, it was reflecting fear. Almost panic. Lucifer immediately felt guilty.

“That’s alright.” He answered, his tone surprisingly soft for the king of hell. He took to pacing again, not able to face her while she was in such a state, thinking a moment. He knew the area that she was speaking of, having been to purgatory many times. He wasn’t allowed to go in to that floor. He knew the barrier keeping him out was due to Morgana being in. But now that she was out…perhaps he could enter. He stopped pacing, thinking again. When had he last gone to purgatory? Had he gone since her recovery? No he hadn’t. He knew he should though. He knew he needed to go and check, needed to see for himself the state in which his love was kept for so many lifetimes worth of years. He moved over and kissed Morgana’s forehead.

“Stay here, my dearest.” He told her, walking out. Morgana moved as though she would follow him, but changed her mind, folding herself into the chair by the fire to wait. Lucifer was pleased she didn’t follow. It showed him that she trusted him to investigate. Lucifer walked down the stairs, deeper into the bowels of his domain. The heat barely phased him anymore, but he knew it was there. He could faintly hear screams from further down. He tended to ignore those. Taking a left at the base of the stairs he headed into his armory, and unsurprisingly, found his second in command down there. Raphael.

Raphael was tall, even compared to Lucifer. He had jet black hair cut fairly short on the sides, but a little longer on top. Just enough to brush his eyebrows. His eyes were deep green and almost glowed with an ethereal light that indicated he was not, nor had he ever been, human. The man wore a chain mail tank top and dark pants, the ends of which disappeared into thick black boots. He had a sleeve of tribal tattoos on his right arm, a swirling dance of ink that seemed to tell a beautiful story, even if no one but Raphael understood it. Lucifer nodded to the man, who gave a brief nod back.

“Boss.” Raphael greeted him, his voice deep and raspy from lack of use. Lucifer gave him a soft grin.

“You know as well as I do, you do not have to call me that.” He chastised him gently in response. Raphael gave a brief look before relaxing his stance a little.

“Yes, well. Old habits and all that.”

“Just because you are my younger brother, does not make you any less my brother. I don’t make the others call me by a title like boss.”

“Not even Gabriel?” Raphael flashed a teasing grin at this jab, not meaning any harm. Lucifer grinned right back, not at all bothered by the brotherly teasing.

“Gabriel, I might ask to call me boss. If I could get the stubborn man to agree to do so.” Lucifer answered. Raphael laughed, relaxing fully. He nodded in agreement. Lucifer decided to move to the armory, pulling out some basic blades and sheathes, setting them all aside. Raphael raised his eyebrows.

“Rare you decide to spar with the army.” Raphael said, not hiding his curiosity. Lucifer nodded.

“Indeed. But I am not doing that today either.”

“Those are sparing blades.” Raphael answered, stepping forward now. Lucifer almost growled aloud at his mistake. Was his mind truly that distracted? He looked at Raphael, who immediately took that step back. Lucifer sighed.

“Forgive my attitude.” He said, gesturing towards the cabinet of blades. “If you please?” It was rare Lucifer asked for help. Raphael came over and carefully removed the blades that Lucifer had picked from the table, putting them back slowly. Almost as if he were afraid of retaliation. Lucifer merely watched him work, uninterested in being hateful. His mind was too full to bother. Raphael could not keep this information to himself.

“You’re distracted.” He murmured.

“You point out the obvious often?”

“Only when needed.” Lucifer bristled a little.

“What are you saying?” he asked. Raphael pulled out the proper blades, setting them down next to the sheathes, which Lucifer noticed he did not put back. Well. At least he got that right. Raphael looked at him with almost sympathy as Lucifer began taking off his expensive jacket, hanging it temporarily on the back of a chair near the weapons closet.

“I am saying that you are dressing for battle and your mind does not appear to be ready for it. You are not joining us for sparring, so it’s a legitimate fight, isn’t it? Should we be prepared for an invasion?” Now Lucifer felt bad. Raphael, besides being his little brother, was his second in command. His military leader. Of course he’d be concerned to see Lucifer gathering weapons with no explanation. Lucifer took a breath and shook his head, trying to clear it. No more distractions. And no more causing unnecessary distress. At least not today.

“No, no. No need to worry.” He said, sounding much more like himself than he had previously. Raphael seemed to notice that too, and snapped back into a more military stance. “I am merely going to do a bit of….recon, shall we say. And I’m not sure how dangerous the situation may be.”

“So you’re bringing weapons just in case?” Raphael asked. Lucifer nodded, removing his button down shirt now as well, to slide the sheathes on. One at his hip, two more at his wrists. He would put the fourth at his calf on his right leg.

“Exactly.” He answered, struggling a little to put the wrist sheathe on the left side. Curse of being left handed he supposed. He struggled with it for a few minutes before he looked over at Raphael, who had not relaxed his military stance, but could not hide the amusement that danced through his eyes.

“Do you mind?” he snapped. Raphael grinned a little briefly, before composing himself and asking.

“Do you want me to help or give you privacy to struggle on your own?” he asked. Lucifer all but rolled his eyes. Little brothers.

“Just tie the damned thing.” He answered. Raphael murmured a ‘yes, sir’ and came over, tying the sheathe firmly in place. Lucifer didn’t say anything else, but studied his brother’s movements. When the sheathe had been tied into place, he began putting the blades in, testing them in his hands before hiding them on his body.

“Will you need backup?” Raphael asked. Lucifer thought about it. He truthfully didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what awaited him in purgatory. For all he knew he couldn’t enter where Morgana used to be. For all he knew, once he tried, an alarm would sound. Or his twin would be informed, and then he would be confined only to hell. Or worse, one of the beasts that were released to help Him defeat the fallen would be waiting for him. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and then answered Raphael.

“I do not know. I hope I will not, because I don’t intend to take any.” Lucifer got dressed again in silence, not giving his brother a chance to respond. Raphael resumed his stance to the side of the door, standing guard once again as Lucifer recomposed himself, hiding the blades perfectly underneath an expensive shirt and suit jacket. Without another word to his younger brother, he left the armory, heading back up the stairs from which he came. Wordlessly, he focused his energy, thinking of purgatory. With a slightly uncomfortable pull behind his navel, he was off.

Ok that was it, that’s the thing. Does it suck as much as I think it does?

#novel #writing #second draft #mythology and folklore #little bit of theology too I guess #hope you enjoy

[wordnerdsworld]

writing a second draft

a one sentence horror story for all the authors out there

#tbh I just revise the first draft a LOT #it’s way easier #fanfiction writer #writing #writers of tumblr #writing memes #writer community #women writers #fiction writing #writing stuff #writing humor #writers #writing problems #author humor #author things #author stuff #author struggles #second draft #first draft #writing community #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writer things #horror #horror story #one sentence horror

[uncaaj]

Scanlation: PKNA #12 - Second Draft Part 2

PART 1 | part 2 | PART 3

Writer: Alessandro Sisti Aritst: Claudio Sciarrone INDUCKS Code: I PKNA 12-1

DOWNLOAD THE FULL PDF HERE!

#PKNA #paperinik #ducktales #topolino #scanlation #disney comics #duckverse #second draft #lyla lee #lyla lay #odin eidolon #uno #one #time police #donald duck #duck avenger

[elumish]

sorry about your flight!

how much of a story do you have in your head before you start writing? how much does it change for you after you write the first draft?

Ooh.

Okay so I have realized that I have a kind of bonkers writing style compared to most writers I know, so this may or may not be a helpful answer to you, as a disclaimer.

Most of my stories tend to start by me having a scene / conversation / vague idea in mind. If I'm in front of a computer / notebook or in an easy place to write, I'll just start writing it. If I'm not, it'll marinate until I get to somewhere I can write, and then I'll either write it or I won't.

Some fraction of those scenes that I write down continue to interest me, and then I'll write more of them. Eventually, I'll finish them, or I won't.

For context, one of the books that I'm taking a break on querying because I need to finish the novel that I am actually under contract for, I wrote the first few thousand words and then picked it up again like a year and half later, wrote a large part of draft one, then went back to near the beginning and wrote a sort of different draft one.

Structure and pacing tend to be my biggest issues in draft one, partly because I basically always write without an outline and sometimes without a sense of what the end actually is, and so to get from draft one to draft two is generally in large part me figuring out what the structure and pacing of the story actually need to be. I will often reverse outline at that point, though I sometimes still find that I need to fit things in as I write them. At that point, I generally I have a good sense of the story, because I've already written a version of it. Some versions have much bigger changes between draft one and draft two, but generally the core of the story doesn't change much at that point.

#rough draft #second draft #elumish answers

[1427]

do any of y'all ever get to the point where like I don't think I know how to read anymore

#proofreading #second draft #third draft #fourth draft #you guys get it

[theteleterrestrial]

I’m editing the second draft of my contemporary novel and am about halfway through :)

Are there any prospective beta-readers out there who would be interested in reading a novel in the very near future about a college dropout in Japan who embarks on a year-long adventure of homelessness, magic cat kingdoms and trying to make friends as an adult?

I figured I’d tentatively put the call out just in case 😘

#creative writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #novel writing #beta reader #original writing #second draft #writeblr #author #contemporary literature

[daysuntilnextaccident]

why is my outline not finishing itself

#writeblr #am writing #creative writing #second draft

[anyaslayqueen]

OMG, do you imagine Damian with the "I'm a traumatized sarcastic and sexy bad boy" style?!

Like he being super bad and mischievous, and the Anya trying to approach him. And at first it's a flirtatious relationship between the two of them, but then it turns out that Damian is a sweetheart

And the drama comes when he discovers that Anya approached him for the mission.

This fake scenarios give me life

#anya forger #spy x family #damianya #spy x family damian #sxf #sxf thorn princess #sxf twilight #second draft #sxf damian

[squigglysquidd]

Fantasy WIP: Chapter 1 Snippet

The multitude of differently colored leaves in the trees of the lightly wooded valley of the Fedgarvindr Mountains catches the light of the sun as it ducks beneath the horizon to sleep. A breeze rustles through branches, catching and carrying the loose leaves from the trees. There’s a kaleidoscope of the rich colors of autumn as they fall. They crunch beneath Rowan and her brother, Hal’s, boots as the two slowly head for home.

They had come down to the Bjarngrund Woods at the base of the mountains. Specifically, the foot of the mountain their home, Oldesummit, rests upon. For what they had in mind, there wasn’t any reason to travel too far.

They’d come down to hunt for a deer for this season’s first stockpile of meat and other resources the body could provide. The hide would go to a neighbor, the tanner, to either be treated into usable leather or dried for its fur. Her father, being a blacksmith, could use the antlers as handles for anything from daggers to utensils. The bones would go to the village’s old healer, Gefjyn, to be used in her poultices and other concoctions.

Rowan spent all of yesterday, last night, and most of today with Hal in the woods. Even though they’ve been hunting for a deer large enough to suit their needs so they can bring it back to Oldesummit, there’s so much more to this whole excursion.

It’s a chance for the siblings to bond and spend time with each other. It’s time that they can’t seem to make during their day-to-day. Rowan usually helps their father with tending to the forge and that keeps her much too busy to seek out her brother’s company. Hal has also been so focused on honing his blade and fighting skills in the hopes that he might be able to convince a traveling merchant to take him on as a guard.

#fantasy #fantasy world #fantasy novel #wip #writing #original characters #original writing #original content #original series #writblr #my next wip #second draft

[vikingmagic33]

Hi! How’re you doing!

Can you tell me more about your Nano project? Is it gonna be posted/available anywhere to read?

(Feel free to ignore me if I’m being nosy) (I just wanted to say what’s up - and thanks for tagging m. It’s always nice to hear from you)

Thank you, sugar! Hope you’re doing well. Always love hearing from you. ❤️

I’m trying to keep NaNoWriMo for original work. This is my contemporary romance roughly based on the premise in my Gwynriel fics In the Name of Science/On My Radar (so dual POV).

I wrote the 50k last year and am still editing. I hope to have a manuscript by the end of the year that I’m willing to query.

Will be back writing fics soon though! Outlining a Gwynriel/Elorcan fic based on Mulan/Mulan2 and I’m doing a fic exchange for the holidays.

#nanowrimo #my writing #contemporary romance #second draft #edits #why so slow panda bear #debut #gwynriel #elorcan

[taplaos]

Been reminiscing about Second Draft oct with

@yeyepiz A’s and Thomas dynamic way back in the day Finally hit me why Thomas was so chill with A. If anyone remember a certain scene I drew back in the day it makes sense. So read to find out what scene it was

Wrote a short mini story if anyone is interested!

During the war they had low number of recruits, so they asked for volunteers. There was one young soldier that looked like 'A'. As a Sergent, Thomas' trained the new soldiers, so he formed a bond with his Unit.

A year later…documents were stolen, everyone was on edge to see who the traitor was. It was the young 'A' soldier…Thomas was devastated and hesitated to go after him. His superior told him that if he crossed the border, we lost the war. Thomas' unit was ready to hunt the traitor, but he ordered them to stand down. 'A' was his responsibility so Thomas must capture him alone.

Thomas had him on sight trying to escape and hide from Thomas in the depths of the snow. Thomas yells out, asking for the boy to surrender himself. He wishes not to hurt the young soldier.

In a shift motion, the boy grabbed Thomas' sword and sliced his side. Before he has a chance to flee, Thomas instinctively kicks the boy. Bucking him several meters away. ( A kick from Thomas was equal of being kicked by a horse. ) Realizing the boy was the first to penetrate Thomas’ shell. He couldn’t help staring at his wound and looked up to see the boy desperately scrambling away. Thomas couldn’t help but feel pity for him. Forced to listen to orders no matter the task at hand. In one last effort the boy shot at Thomas and said he can't go back to his country without the documents.

Thomas in a rage had enough, before the boy could make another move Thomas raised his pincers and sliced the young soldier.

White snow hues shifted to red as Thomas instantly regretted what he did but did he? Deep down he knew he’ll be punished for not following orders especially as a Hoodoo the stakes are higher. This was an order so it must be just…. right? “For the greater good” is what Thomas’ commander boldly say…He was just a boy force to fight in this forsaken war. He barely lived his life, and I took that away from him. They won’t see me as a killer but a hero for getting these damned papers back to base. Thomas, exhausted and wounded, grabbed the boy’s dog tag and papers.

He better hurry back to base before a recuse party comes for me. Staggering side to side, he was on the verge of collapsing. Only pain and misery paved our path…this is what it means to be a soldier.

I only wish to say "Sorry" to the young soldier…

(Here's that one panel scene I mentioned from the beginning from my Spectator Entry before the 3rd round )

The text is small but it says this Nurse 1: The patient is unstable! Hurry and give him the sedatives Nurse 2: Please relax, Mr. Rupert. Your wounds will be fixed shortly. You are a hero for hunting down that traitor. Surely our country would be in shambles if he passed the border.

Thomas: Hjälte ( Hero in swedish) Nurses: “You’re a hero, Mr. Rupert

Seeing A for the first time didn't hit Thomas at first. Too many bad memories so he suppressed it. Realizing who A was he would be super apologetic and maybe helped him clear his guilty conscience. Either way, he wants to protect the young boy this time around.....

Atlas we both didn't make it to round 5. Would be great to see human Thomas bawling his eyes out for the first time to just say sorry to A.

#Second Draft #A #Thomas #yeyepiz #Thomas Rupert #second draft oct

[scifimagpie]

me out of context giving advice to my coauthor:

#writing advice #structure #plotting #second draft #writers of tumblr #writeblr #Hell saga

[dandelion-jester]

2000 words into this draft and my brain is melting, but it's due tomorrow evening so somehow I gotta hit 9000 by then!

#writing #writeblr #writer #fantasy #books #author #writers on tumblr #wip #otherlings #otherlings novel #editing #second draft

[indecentpause]

Heads Up 7-Up

Tagged by @kaiusvnoir to share seven(ish) lines from a WIP! this is from the second draft of The Most Beautiful Puzzle.

cw: panic attack due to PTSD trigger

You expect the heavy rain and thunder. You do not expect something to explode outside, something so big sparks fly past your second story window. You also do not expect Josselin to scream. You jump up, tripping over your blanket as you unravel yourself. But you manage to right yourself before you fall, and you stumble out of your bedroom, gripping your phone tight. Everything is dark. “Josselin?” Nothing. “Josselin!” It takes moments to sprint the rest of the way to his room. Oh, god, were his windows open? Did he get hit by debris? The ‘knock before entering’ rule completely slips your mind. The door is open so you rush inside to see Josselin curled up in a thick blue blanket, sobbing quietly. “Josselin, hey.” You keep your voice soft and gentle and unaccusing, because it’s not like it’s his fault this happened. You take a few steps closer and ask, “Can I sit next to you on the bed?” Josselin’s sobs quickly spiral out of control, and soon, he’s so loud people can probably hear him from the street.

tagging @oh-no-another-idea @thegreatobsesso @cwritesfiction @aritany to share seven(ish) lines or paragraphs of your choice!

#writeblr #my writing #heads up 7 up #writeblr tag games #excerpt #wip #second draft #the most beautiful puzzle #sheraton academy #sheraton academy au #meara ryanne #josselin clearwater

[randomruff]

Redo of: White of Uncertainty

Warnings before reading!: Character Death, self-harm, mental breakdown and flashbacks.

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He didn't know how it got to this....

Macaque gritted his teeth, taking on another hit. Pain quickly becoming numb by the on slaught of attacks, before dodging again. Swiftly getting in his own hits.

Didn't quite know how it all falled apart so quickly...

His shadowed bo staff in hand, he used shadow wraps to keep his friend in place as he rushed towards him. Aiming for the final blow, a knock upside his head to regain his reasoning. To have the chance to him that the Monk wasn't as important as his sworn brothers.

Didn't understand why this was the end result for everything they worked for...

However before he could the ginger furred monkey broke free with yell. Not at all him giving him the grace to escape into the shadows as immense pain inclulfed him, enraged gold rimmed red became the last thing he saw before everything went black.

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Macaque gasped for air, a vice like grip tighting around him like a python. His eyes wide and frantic as he took in his surroundings.

Instead of destroyed rocky terrain and a cloudy sky. Dark wood and metal entered his gaze, vaguely registering that it was the roof of his dojo that he was looking at. the tension in his body leaving slightly at the discovery, closing his eyes with a relieved sigh. 'It was just dream' he thought.

Except it wasn't

He swallowed -when did his throat get to dry and sore?- shaking the thought away before getting up, noticing while doing so that his arms and tail were tightly wrapped around him as if to protect him from something.

The phantom feeling of pain all over his body told him that he didn't really need to guess why.

He huffed, cringing slightly at the way his sweat-dripped fur uncomfortably clung to him as he moved. He'll have to take a shower then, perhaps the rushing water will help clear his thoughts.

After gulping down some water and a mango he went ahead and grabbed some spare clothes. Turning on the shower before stripping down his sleepware, he glanced at the bathroom mirror. His body freezing at the sight.

White... All he could see was pure white...

A puffy violet eye was outlined with red as if it had been crying stared back at him, equally as shocked to see all of his colorful set ears in view. ears that got him weird looks when not hidden

His fur a harsh bright white, not a speck of comforting black in sight. White so harsh it blinds

And the disgusting scare tracing down a disgraceful milky white eye was there too. the sight making for too many scream in terror

A red staff outlined with gold and the horrifying strike of pain to his right eye flashed through his mind. Forever scaring it.

An eye HE took away and the scare HE gave

And then it was gone

Macaque blinked in confusion, brows furrowing as his mirror counterpart disappeared. Left to wonder where it went before the faint sting in his right hand caught his attention, looking down he saw shards of glass sticking out of his hand blood trailing down it.

 Realizing he broke the mirror Macaque stepped away from the bathroom counter, however he only took a few steps back before the back of his feet hit the bathroom tub. Suddenly the room felt to small-

Flashes back to that night, the night of his death and scar began to creep in. His body started to tremble as he relived his confrontation to his sworn brother.

"That monk is only using you Wukong! Why can't you see it!?"

"That's not-"

He just didn't understand...

he sqeezed his eyes shut hoping to shut it out. It didn't work... the argument started escalated into a fight. "What about Demon Bull King?! What about Azure?! Yellow tusk, and peng?! What about me?! Don't you care about us anymore?!"

"Of course i do!-"

Why did it end up this way?

Ragged breaths and gasps, loud and quick heartbeats, and the voices of the past was all he hear. "Then why Wukong?!"

"I-"

Why?!

His mind blank yet so full, threating to cave in on itself. "Why are you doing this?!"

"I'M SORRY!"

Silence... It was silent... The memories of the past vanished. Finally leaving him alone for hopefully the rest of the night, slowly, Macaque untangled himself from his limbs that were tightly wrapped around him. He leaned his head back, the ringing in his ears subsiding.

"Tell me Wukong...." Macaque asked, now staring at a large stray shard from the broken mirror. Reflecting his anguished face, tearing running down his injured eye. Pain, and loneliness captured in his violet one.

"Were-... Are you truly sorry?....Was- it me that pushed to far?...." ---------------------------'----

I HAVE DISCOVERED COLORED TEXT!!!!!!!!!!

@angstandhappiness my friend you truly don't realize how much joy you brought me with your feedback. So i did a redo! Hopefully this is better and more clearer if not tell me and I'll redo it again.

#monkie kid #Redo #six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #angst #character death #hurt/no comfort #one shot #short story #story #Second draft