#writing down the bones

[jazzforthecaptain]

"Don't be jealous, especially secretly. That's the worst kind. If someone writes something great, it's just more clarity in the world for all of us. Don't make writers, 'other,' different from you: 'They are good and I am bad.' Don't create that dichotomy. It makes it hard to become good if you create that duality.

The opposite, of course, is also true: if you say, 'I am great and they aren't,' then you become proud, unable to grow as a writer or hear criticisms of your work. Just: 'They are good and I am good.' That statement gives a lot of space. 'They have been at it longer, and I can walk their path for a while and learn from them.'"

- Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

#writing #natalie goldberg #writing down the bones

[abookisafriend]

writing manuals

creating short fiction, bird by bird, writing down the bones, and on writing

--

creating short fiction, by damon knight: four out of five spaceships

did you feel the need for a writers' guide that comes from your corner, a place where they respect the fantastic? damon knight is a seasoned scifi writer with skills and vision, and he translates his craft as well as he can into a short, concise volume. there are examples and exercises designed to help you build your writing muscles.

especially in his analysis of one of his own stories, he focuses in on the craft with a level of concrete detail that makes the book genuinely useful, in my opinion. the only reason that this book has a lower rating than bird by bird is that i was able to easily finish bird by bird, reading with excitement, whereas damon's book is not one that i return to often and i haven't actually ever finished reading it cover to cover. it is one that i use in class, though, and there are specific sections that i highly recommend -- again, his analysis of his own story "semper fi". he also has fantastic advice on writing with the subconscious. that alone makes it worth the read.

--

bird by bird, by anne lamott: four and a half out of five torn-up manuscripts

bird by bird is, in my opinion, a justified classic. it's a writer's manual with straightforward advice and examples to lift your spirits, encourage you, and guide your practice. you won't find so many analyses of examples of fiction as in damon knight's creating short fiction, but you will find encouraging and experience-based guidance on creating a long-term writing practice. the writing is very engaging and the book is a bit of a page-turner; lamott does know what she's doing. summing it up here, there are fundamentally three main principles: you have to write a shitty first draft to get a shiny final draft; write every day; it can be as little as three hundred words. when i finished the book, i felt that i knew anne lamott.

--

writing down the bones, by natalie goldberg: four and a half out of five notebooks

this is a concise, accessible writer's manual with brief chapters you can read in an idle moment at any point in your day. it's very conversational and written with an easy manner, although the topics that the writer broaches can be quite serious. she is focused on memoir writing, but much of her advice applies generally to any narrative form. as with bird by bird, i really felt that i got to know the writer through this book. her writing is very enjoyable to read, and i would recommend the book on that basis alone. also like bird by bird, this book is enjoyable to read just as an experience in its own right; the author really does know how to write. my rating may be off a bit, however, as i haven't completely finished the book.

--

on writing, by stephen king: four out of five blood-curdling screams

i stopped reading stephen king books because he is too good at what he does and i didn't really want to be that scared. this is a good one, though.

it is half memoir and half writing advice. i would almost recommend it more for the memoir than the advice, but advice from someone like king, who is not only a skilled writer but someone who has thought about his craft, has to be worth something. he adds one thing that the other writers mentioned here generally do not: bone up on your actual mechanics and vocabulary. in other words, the basic stuff of english class.

this book takes a bit of the fear out of approaching writing and renders it a little more accessible. "remember," he will tell you, "i got rejected a hundred times before i sold my first work." his main advice, like lamott, is to write every day. i seem to recall that he even writes on christmas.

#book reviews #writing manuals #writers' guides #writer things #creative writing #creating short fiction #bird by bird #writing down the bones #on writing #damon knight #anne lamott #natalie goldberg #stephen king #fiction #memoir #reviews #review

[sainte-annecanaljournals]

So I am working on beginning a journey, a little project that has been brewing in my mind for a little over a year, done a ton of reading on blogging and whatnot.

Last night I started reading Writing Down The Bones, by Natalie Goldman, a renowned and bestselling book about writing for writers and even if I have mastered the basics, I'm starting fresh with the intention to fully commit to a writing practice and honestly, her style of guidance really speaks to me and I have already filled half a notebook.

In order to keep this journey cohesive and somewhat linear and entertaining at the same time, I have created a separate Insta account.

Without boring you with the all the details, I'll link to the Insta when I feel it's ready to be launched.

I have reached a breaking point and tired of talking and reading about writing, I wanna just shutthefackup and fucking write something tangible.

I have very little confidence that this will actually turn into something.... Then again, action will speak louder than whatever I can write in this post.

Recent turn of events have made me more determined than ever.

So, gonna go back to reading and scribbling.

Laters skaters 🖋️😎🤘

#writeon

#writers of tumblr #Writing Down The Bones #my writing #new beginnings #old dream new me who dis #shut up and write #write on

[elaine4queen]

The next day I wake up to a dull sky and am full of pain. I make tea, feed the dog and take pain killers. 

By this time the sky has brightened. It’s Saturday so I consider a more ambitious walk, with Vivienne perhaps, and message her. But I know that if I just leave the house and walk locally the movement and air will help me right now, so I get up, wash and dress and help Lola into her harness. 

There is nothing quite like the enthusiasm of a dog.

We step out into the street and she takes me towards Hove Lawns. There are runners there - it is an event. I keep her on lead and we pick our wan through the crowd. It’s still no dogs allowed on most of the beach until the end of this month, but there are a couple of sections we can use. The tide is out, and it is so early, so chilly, and enough out of season that there are only dog walkers and dogs on the beach. Often there are swimmers too, but not today. I take a photograph of the yellow buoys arranged in a string along a section of the water opposite. They catch the sunlight and I take a photograph. The sea looks beautiful, but not inviting. The dog gambols about, finds a stick and settles. I continue to listen to Writing Down the Bones and enjoy the warmth of my headphones cushioning my ears. 

The runners are not in full spate. They jog, they walk, they stand around talking. They use the railing that separates the promenade from the beach to stretch against. Two people on the beach side use TRX bands looped around the rail to exercise their upper bodies. I don’t know if they are runners or not, lots of people exercise here and in the parks. 

When we head back across the Lawns we mount the steps up to Adelaide Crescent which overlooks the promenade there. As we approach the grass I see a woman with three dogs; a Border Terrier, a Pug and a Westie. I am unsure how Lola will behave. I take off my headphones and let her off the lead. She bounds in and greets them and I say hello to the woman. We walk and talk. Very often dog walkers really only talk about their dogs and there’s a kind of ease in this well rehearsed small talk. The other thing is that we rarely walk together for long, so when she leaves for Palmeira I stay. Lola eats grass on the bank and I take a seat on a bench. Adelaide Crescent is one of my favourite spots in Brighton, the curve of which echoes the waist and hips of a woman, so the terrace bulges out as it leaves the rectangle of Palmeira and then moves back in creating a visual of three different kinds of curves - the crescent itself, the description of the curve out, then another curve back in leading to the hip. Sickert painted the view of it from the Lawns, standing between the architectural wave and the actual waves behind him.

#actually autistic #original writing #brighton #hove #dogs #dogwalk #natalie goldberg #walter sickert #writing down the bones

[dinamakan]

Writing as Catharsis

There's an essay that got me questioning myself all over again, "Why Do I Write":

"Why do I write?" It's a good question. Ask it of yourself every once in a while. No answer will make you stop writing, and over time you will find that you have given every response."

I used to write fiction instead of diary when I was a kid. I gave up immediately, realizing I was untalented in this area; hence I honed my skill in drawing. Creating comic strip was one of my hobbies. Fast forward to 2016, I came across Relativitas, a book I have mentioned countless times. This essays compilation on architecture written by Adi Purnomo inspired me to write about what I've learned. I started a blog at that moment. As time went by, I jotted down anything inside my mind. Writing as catharsis— that's what keeps me going.

"Why do I still write?" I mumbled in front of my screen.

I love my writing process. Sometimes it was exhausting but always liberating. Usually, my thoughts weren't well-structured at the beginning, but I kept writing. Each part of my thoughts marked with bullet points, then I rearranged the order like solving a quiz. The answer is, I still write to restructure my thoughts as well.

Why do you write?

#diksi #journal #buku #Writing Down the Bones

[thepaperquillco]

Currently reading: Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg

#currently reading #writing encouragement #writing #writing down the bones #natalie goldberg

[mystarwarsthoughts]

Inner Jedi Notebook: Week 12

Inner Jedi Notebook: Week 12

Week 12 of my Inner Jedi Notebook journey. The prompt: Rey learns much from the sacred Jedi texts that were once housed on Ach-To. What are some books that are important to you, and why? My answer: Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre is the first “classic” book that I fell in love with. I first read it in the ninth grade and loved it. I learned that not all the classics are boring; my…

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#Books #Books that changed my life #Inner Jedi Notebook #Jane Eyre #The Fionovar Tapestry #The Mists of Avalon #Writing Down the Bones #You Are a Bad Ass

[clockwayswrites]

The figure that stood behind Red Hood was a lithe thing. Not only did they barely come up to Red Hood’s chin, but they looked no bigger around than one of Hood’s thighs. Gaunt would have been the right word if it were for the ready way they held themselves— like they were one moment away from throwing a punch that would leave one aching for days.

Like Red Hood, not a sliver of skin was showing. It was somehow eerier, though. Red Hood covered his skin to protect himself from blades and bullets. Something about this other one… it was like they were covered up to protect everyone else. Like not getting a glimpse of the person, or thing, behind that black and green helmet was for the best, really.

Maybe it was the design of the helmet. It was an angular thing that looked sharp enough to cut and made of a smooth, black shell traced by lines of glowing green that only accented the angles. The lines traveled up to points at the top of the helmet part between wolf like ears and horns. Worst was the area over the mouth. It was pushed forward like the person was wearing a muzzle. It had been carved into distorted bared teeth, like they were one moment from going for the jugular.

Maybe it was the way they stood deathly still. The cloudy fog of breath that came out of the muzzle the only sign of life. But even that was far too infrequently for how a person needed to breath.

Maybe it was that the only thing a someone could see in the helmet was the reflection of their own terrified eyes.

Maybe it was the smell of ozone and burning that clung to them like a death shroud.

Maybe they were death, people whispered.

#idk #random writing before bed to wind down #I'm so tired #worn down to my bones and soul #dp x dc #dead on main #likely #i mean this is me #I think I maybe have become 'that dead on main person' #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #195

Danny becomes the most inner connected person with villains, anti heroes, heroes, by being an independent YouTube creator and interviewing them and capturing their hearts. (Think Channel 5 with Andrew Callaghan) If you fuck with Danny you’re gonna have to deal with every super person under the sun coming after you.

#danny phantom #dc comics #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #writing prompts #maybe he sits them down and plays video games that are of that hero with them #maybe he actively interviews them in the middle of the damn fights #either way it’s sick as hell #unsure if I posted this already guess we’ll see #bones prompts

[goodday-goodmorn]

Back on this account: Prefacing this that this work was wrote in like a day and like most of my things- i was too lazy to edit lol. The concept form todays work was injected into my brain by good old @auspicioustidings, check em out- they got some cool concepts and fics. (Particularly Firewatch- chefs kiss to that series), lots of soft, dark, kidnap-y, COD content 👍

Without further ado i present my impulsive thoughts on a page:

——————

“Committed to the Bit.”

words: 4.7k

Summary: You’re at an utterly boring halloween party, about to leave when some scottish man dressed as a solider comes slinking into the bathroom and really goes ham with his whole ‘This place is dangerous, you aren’t supposed to be here- we gotta get you to safety’ act. Weird pick-up line approach but hey it fucking works. He’s just charming enough for you to play along with his bit. Because it is just a bit… right?

This party was kinda dull. Which really was a shame considering how high your expectations were. From what your friend said- it was supposed to be an immersive experience. The hosts were apparently old collage buddies with your friend who were halloween fanatics.

You friend has absolutely hyped them up, talking all about how when they threw parties they got into them and would always play up whatever dynamic they were going for with their costumes. Even to a level of mild public humiliation.

She once recounted the story of how one year, when dressed as a pair of vampires, they full on acted as though they were melting when someone brought a side of garlic breadsticks with the pizza. Fully committed to the bit it seems.

Because of the hosts being so dedicated to their act, of course it wasn’t uncommon for guests to act in a similar manner. Even those who didn’t have a running gag for the night were overall relaxed and had a good time being apart of the fun. It was a non-judgmental zone, filled with pretty decor and open people.

So of course, after hearing all about the welcoming and fucking amazing vibes of these parties- you had agreed to meet up with your friend at one.

Normally, you weren’t really one for parties, especially halloween ones because it was typically full of judgey, horny, strangers who would consider you weird- and you’d have to small talk and the songs almost always sucked because of course they couldn’t play actual halloween songs even if it killed them.

But after many reassurances from your friend, including videos and photos she had graciously provided you- you went to one.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

The costumes were amazing- high quality and expensive, hell the place was fucking stunning, all decked out in halloween gear and dark lighting. Even the building itself seemed perfect for this sort of thing- winding corridors, random locked rooms, ominous men in suits. Oh and don’t get you started on the snack table, shit was heavenly even if you were the only one touching it. The aesthetics of the party were great, But…

The vibes were way off. There was no rambunctious fun laughter and people grooving on the dance floor. Everyone seemed oddly reserved. Committed to their bits for sure, but well… there wasn’t much ah, variety to everyone’s act.

They all shared a similar vibe of like- domineering power. Which was definitely pretty fucking hot when it came to some people, (looking at you fancy vanpire lady), but it got boring after a while.

Safe to say your attempts at socializing were pretty shot. And what’s even worse, your friend? Yeah she didn’t even show up.

Tragic truly. You would call her to see if she made it here yet, but your phone was dead- and talking to any of the other party goers was a song and dance you didn’t wanna attempt again.

So here you are, in the bathroom, sitting by one of the sinks and charging your phone.

How lame.

You sigh, standing up to check yourself out in the mirror. At least your costume is fun, it’s a reference that only really you and you friend would get, but still, it made you happy to wear. It was a royal outfit, you looked like nobility, nice and fancy. Perhaps a barron, or maybe a princess, or a king- really it was up for anyone's interpretation. You fix up the head accessory, then fuss with your hair just to have something to do.

Maybe you should just leave, you were getting pretty bored of everything.

And it’s at that moment, as you’re sinking down to the bathroom floor to grab your charger that the most interesting thing of tonight bursts through the door.

You look at him, blinking once then twice. He does the same.

Eye candy.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind. Without an ounce of shame you let your eyes rack over his form, fitted in some sort of military outfit, tactical gear and even a prop gun. He makes it look damn good.

And then you stop admiring the hunk of prime meat in front of you because starring is rude. (Even if he is fucking amazingly charmingly rugged and god damn what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that mohawk of his and just tug-)

“That’s a good fucking costume.”

He pauses, looking at you with something confused and a bit bemused. And like an idiot you just can’t keep your mouth shut and blurt out more shit.

“Did ya have to bust through the door though? I mean like- don’t get me wrong it was cool as shit- really adds to the character here, big, hot, ah… military? guy.”

You wince, you’re making a fool of yourself. Luckily the man doesn't seem to mind.

(Johnny takes one look at you, your bag in a sink, your phone charging in the bathroom outlet, your clearly partly homemade costume that shows way more care than any of the other people in this joint and easily figures out-)

“L.T, Found a civvie.”

He mumbles into a- oh shit he’s got an earpiece and everything. Now that is cool. You tell him as such.

“Okay that is so fucking cool. Dude does that thing actually work? Man. How long did it even take for you to get this whole costume?”

He studies you with an odd look for a moment. You wonder if there’s actually anyone talking to him in that earpiece. Must be with the way he pauses. Slowly, he speaks; gentle.

“Not a costume lass. We ought to get you outta here, it's gonna be a shitshow soon.”

You blink. And then, you smile.

“Rightttt, not a costume. I getcha.”

“Not joking bonnie. This place is dangerous, filled with snakes. How did a wee thing like you even get in here?”

You smile, a bit pleased to banter with the first person who isn't doing the same old same old, ‘i know more than you, ooo im so big and powerful and scary’ act.

“Took a carriage ride and promised my roommate I'd be back by midnight.”

He eyes your royal esc outfit, not cinderella by any means but it still makes him smile slightly. (And boy if that isn't a sight, him looking you up and down and looking at you like that?)

“Cute. Then allow me to be yer escort princess.” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom door.

The statement is said with just enough sarcasm to make you bite down a grin. Hes very committed to this whole military operation act. And honestly? You were ready to leave anyway. Not to mention this guy was the only one who’d gotten your interest all night.

You grab your things and stuff them in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder tightly.

“Follow me, and ye gotta be quiet. Cant let anyone see us.”

You are more than willing to go along with his silly bit. And so you give him a clumsy salute, with a good natured smile.

“You got it captain.”

“Sergeant.”

He corrects you with an amused little puff of air. Clearly- hes just as pleased to have someone indulge him as you are to have someone interesting to talk to.

“You got it sergeant.” You repeat back with a graceful little half bow and amused smirk.

He turns back to the door, hands on his gun and before you go out you grab onto his arm.

“Wait!”

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, eyes sharp, focused: wow hes a really good actor and hes got really pretty fucking eyes-

“Lassie?”

Oh yeah you can't get lost in his eyes just yet.

“Can I have a gun? For safety and all that- totally.”

“Hen… i don't think-”

“please sergeant? I promise I won't break it or anything! I just wanna get more into character ya know? pretty please Sir…?

…

(Johnny is not a good man. And fuck when he hears you call him by his rank, sir, asking so sweetly- your hands clasped in front of you- looking at him with a sheepish grin and pleading eyes. He wants to give you a damn bazooka if it means you keep talking sweet to him. Ghost is in his ear, telling him he better not bloody dare.)

(So of course…)

“You keep that safety on boonie. Hold it like this. If you gotta use it, don't be shooting or you’ll blow yer eye out. You toss the bloody thing in the direction of whatever it is you’re tryna hit- or you hand it to me. Is that clear?”

You nod vehemently, assuring him with little, yep’s and sure’s, and got it-’s. He raises a brow, mostly cause hes not sure if you’re actually taking this seriously. You take it for something else entirely though and then quickly say-

“Yes sir. Understood.”

(...Johnny is both damn disappointed hes on a mission, and greatful as fuck, because the only thing he wants to do is push you up against that wall, sneak his hands down your silly little costume and tease you until you’re a squirming mess. Asking you if you understand how hard hes gonna fuck you and hear your breath hitch as you answer back with a wanton “Yes sir”—)

“Sergeant…?”

You stare at the fellow and his intense gaze, wondering if you took it too far. Hes committed to his bit sure, but you didn't mean to overstep and make him feel like he had to give you a gun. Clearly they were expensive props, detailed and metallic and heavy.

Instead of speaking to you, he speaks to his earpiece, “just a precaution L.T, what if her majesty gets cornered? Little lass don't have a lick of combat training.”

You -far to ready to add to this stupid little bit- chime in,

“Yeah, they only teach you fencing and the waltz where i'm from.”

Johnny grins, “Com'on L.T”

(As much as Ghost hates to admit it- Johnny is right. And so be begrudgingly relents. It seems everyone is amused by how utterly oblivious you are because Gaz spares a laugh and a cheeky comment after Ghost's gruff voice.)

“Soooo… what's the verdict Sergeant? Did your uh… LT? That's lieutenant right-? Does he approve?”

In response, Soap carefully positions a gun in your hand, telling you with an edge to keep your fingers away from the trigger. (Safety is on of course, Johnnys not an idiot all the time.) You nod, holding onto the gun and feeling so cool.

Like that the two of you are off, sneaking around the winding corridors and hiding.

Honestly? This is the most fun you’ve had since you got here. Its all you can do to not bounce on your heels when you follow Soap around.

He's just so into this, that you can't help but be sucked in. Speaking in low tones to his ear peice, making sure you stick close, talking about positions and other military jargon that goes over your head. Oh and he does it all with this charming smile, like the situation is serious yes- but like he's still making sure you’re having fun. Trying to keep you comfortable. The energy is tense but in a good way. Electric even.

You find yourself holding your breath whenever you hide behind a corner, or when he tugs you to him and holds you still- god it's just so thrilling. Maybe because you’ve had a boring night, and cause he's charming and fun in all the right ways- but you’re having a blast.

Even when things seem to get even more tense.

You and Soap are currently nestled away in a little nook, a back corridor, a dead end. Soap curses, speaking into his earpiece. You can hear footsteps, someones coming. And if they see you and Soap- you'll surely be compromised.

(Which means your little game will likely come to an end. Most of the party people here are judgmental, ergo they probably won't appreciate your little roleplay. Its in this moment that you decide- fuck it, you dont want this to end.)

“Sergeant!” You whisper harshly, tugging off your fancy coat and draping it around him, “I’ve got a plan- trust me.”

He looks at you, mildly conflicted, he's about to say something but the footsteps are getting closer and you really need a cover story for why you’re lurking in a dark corner away from the party. You can only think of one reason two people would sneak away at a party.

Sue you for getting too into this silly game of pretend, but adrenaline spikes and next thing you know; you’re kissing him.

Rough and messy, needy. You let out your best wanton muffled moan. His eyes are wide, and for a moment you spiral, realizing what you’ve just done. Sure you were playing pretend and he was committed to the bit but you just kissed him for fucks sake- sexually harsssed him!

Oh god hes gonna hate you and you just ruined all that fun banter and any shot at ever speaking to the only decent person you’ve met all night—

He’s kissing back.

With sudden haste he pulls you close, kissing you back with a ferocity that short circuits your brain for a moment. His knee slots in between your legs, entangling you two, and then there's a soft thud as his back hits the wall.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Your heart races, a slurry of adrenaline, of elation because he was playing along with your silly cover story, of something hot and molten because he was running his hands along your outfit desperately.

Amidst the heat of it all, the grinding of his knee between your legs- you don't even notice the fact that the footsteps stopped. Johnny does though. He breaks the kiss with a purposeful loud noise, when he sees your dazed and confused expression however- he quickly aims for your neck before you can say a word and accidently give away the clever cover story you thought of.

You gasp, the noise does wonders. He can hear whoevers about to round the corner shifting about, obviously realizing what's going on and debating if they should check to be sure or spare their eyes of the sight.

So of course, Johnny helps them decide by laying it on thick.

“Fuck atta girl hen, wanna hear you fall apart f’ me.”

He presses you against his knee, nibbling at your skin to make your breath stutter. Thankfully, you catch his words and seem to get at least to some level what he's doing.

So of course, because god damn it- you’re in the thick of this silly military operation act now- you’ve gotta commit. You moan out the worst thing you can think of to make someone go away. Which is of course—

“Daddy!”

(Johnny can hear Gaz fucking roaring with laughter over coms. It takes everything in himself not to laugh then and there. Luckily, having a pretty little thing pressed against his knee and trembling provides a good distraction. Still, he can't repress the grin.)

“Yeah? Need something kitten?” He captures your lips again, a quick kiss this time, just to leave you breathless for your next remark.

“Y-Your c-” Oh my fucking god you dont know if you’re struggling to speak because you’re trying your damndest not to laugh, or because you are painfully terribly aroused at due to his kisses and husky voice. Thank god he intervenes.

“Whats that kitty? Yer gonna have to speak up. Lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He guides you across his knee, you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging that stupid mohawk close to kiss him again.

When you quickly pull away, you rush out the words, failing to hide the look of pure hysterical amusement on your face- luckily the rush of words is mistaken for neediness and not because you are seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Your cock-”

He captured your laughter in another kiss, groaning to hide the sound of your stifled snickers.

Finally, after what seems like ages and yet too little time- he hears Ghost in his ear giving him the all clear. Not without clear amusement.

Johny backs off, panting heavily and listening. He hears nothing but empty air. Quietly he whispers,

“They’re gone.”

You pant as well, trying your best to keep your hysterical little giggles quiet. Johnny is right there with you, like fucking schoolgirls- the two of you giggle for a moment.

Ah but you should probably apologize.

“H-Hey im sorry by the way- for kissing you out of the blue like that, i didn't know if you’d be comfortable with it but uh- i kinda got invested in the whole-”

You wave a hand about as he backs off you, pulling his knee away from your heat between your legs.

“-‘Don't get caught’, thing. Sorry if i um- took it too far and make you uncomfortable…”

(Johnny looks down at you, pretty little oblivious thing, looking all sheepish and nervous as if there wasn’t the high potential you just saved both his and your asses with your quick thinking.)

“All good lassie. Good quick thinking.”

(As much as he’d love to tease you more about it- or even tell you just how much he enjoyed kissing you until you were breathless- he’s still on a mission, and you need to keep moving.)

(So for now, he settles for a hair ruffle and a wink. You smile all the same.)

The pair of you continue, and you are starting to wonder where you’re going. This ain’t the way you came in- though, you suppose coming in via the main entrance would defeat the point of the game. Which was of course: to sneak you out undetected. Walking through the hall of party-goers probably wouldn’t be the best call.

Still, it's odd when you find yourself stopping at a room. It appears to be locked, a passcode and everything. This doesn’t seem to be an issue though.

(“Intel says they left the hard drive here. Code is 269344041.” Johnny listens to Ghosts voice, inputting the code easily. He ignores the confused look you end him in favor of mumbling-)

“a’m in.”

You blink as he talks to his earpiece. Carefully and quietly as you enter the room, you ask,

“Um… sergeant? What are we doing in here?”

“Looking for a package hen.”

(“Should be in a small red box.” Ghost relays.)

“-Little red box. Help me look?”

You nod like the helpful little thing you are and begin to search the room. It’s a storage unit of sorts. Bunch of random shit, you even spot a cool ass box of skeleton bones. That you show to your newfound companion.

He grimaces and gently sets the box down away from your hands.

“Let’s not touch anything else alright lassie?”

It’s framed as a question but really it’s an order. You just shrug, and then remember your line was supposed to be, ‘yes sir.’

“Yes sir.”

The search doesn’t take long after that, a few minutes max before you spot a little red box high up on a shelf. All the things around it are collecting dust, but the dull red colored cardboard seems to be free of it. Placed there recently it seems.

Maybe this whole immersive thing was planned out, and maybe it was pure luck you got roped into it. Everything was awfully elaborate after all. With him knowing the code and stuff.

“Sergeant i think i found it.”

He’s on you in and instant,

“Where?”

You point up the shelf. “That it?”

He carefully grabs it, opens it up and shuts it before you can get a good look. Looked kinda like a flash drive? A flash drive inside a plastic baggie.

“That’s what we’re looking for alright. Good work lassie. Ye might as well be a recruit at this point.”

He’s joking it seems, so you smile back in turn.

“Lived a bit too cushiony of a life for military work i’m afraid.” You gesture once more to your royal outfit. “But i’ll consider the offer sergeant.”

He takes you by the arm, tucking the box into his vest and leading you to the door.

“Glad to hear it princess.”

After that, it’s more sneaking about, more little bits of banter whenever you can, and listening to him speak into his earpiece. It’s dreadfully fun, the most fun you’ve had all night and honestly? At any party ever.

Finally- Finally, you seem to make your goal as you feel open air on your skin. That took forever to get out, with how massive the place was, but by god it was fun sneaking around like a super spy with…

Oh. You come to the sudden realization that you don’t actually know his name. That and- you never gave him your name either.

Well, this is where you leave so…

“Hey i just realized i never got your name.”

He turns to you for a brief moment, his hands on your arm now, tugging you along away from the building so that the bouncers at the front won’t see you. The two of you stop a little ways away.

“Soap. Or Johnny if you’d prefer.”

He says it so simply, with such an easy smile.

“And you princess?”

You say your own back, and it sounds so nice on his tongue. So right.

“Um- if you wouldn’t mind-“ You’re fishing in your bag now for your barely charged phone, wanting to get his number because he seems like a stand up dude and-

Soap touches his earpiece, “Package and civilians secure L.T. Good to go.” He says it quiet enough you don’t hear it, too busy looking for your phone.

(“Roger. Gaz move in.”)

“-could i maybe get your number? After i find my phone, of course. it’s just uh, well i had a lot of fun. Truth be told the night was pretty shit before you found me so if it’s okay with y-“

Your eyes widen when you see behind Soap, several Military troops storming the place, all of them holding what look to be- very real guns.

“What the fu-?”

You start, dropping your phone in a shock and completely shattering the poor device against the pavement.

Johnny can’t seem to bite down his grin.

Slowly, and yet all too fast, everything clicks as soon as you hear gunshots.

At a snails pace your head turns towards Johnny. Soap. The sergeant. The real sergeant.

“I did tell ya it wasn’t a costume hen.”

You were such a fucking idiot.

——————

Awkwardly you sit in your chair, taken in for interrogation. Less that and more for protocol considering everyone agreed you didn’t know jack shit.

Apparently, you went to the wrong party and somehow ended up at a terrorist gathering, which would explain the weird vibes of all the guests. And the super big and confusing building. And the many locked doors. And the—

The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt so at some point in the hours of being on this stupid military base, you stopped.

To your utter horror and humiliation: Soap was a real sergeant. On a real mission. And he gave you a real ass fucking gun. And you had kissed him and oh god he had his knee between your fucking legs- you called him daddy.

Physically unable to handle the shame and embarrassment, you make a noise similar to that of a dying cat and bury your face in your hands.

The person ‘interrogating’ you, (a nice man that everyone called Gaz), just laughed. At the very least your misery was amusing.

“I am- so, so so fucking sorry, oh my god i’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It helped to keep you calm. Better than dealing with panicking eh?”

You nodded because he made sense. It didn’t mean you were happy about it- but it did make sense. Soap tried to tell you after all. Honestly it was probably for the best you thought it was all a joke. Who knows what you would have done if you knew it was for real, probably panicked and gotten both yourself and him killed.

Gaz pats your head, an amused but sympathetic smile on his face.

(God fucking damn it, were all sergeants just naturally this fucking charming??? …You don’t have a thing for military guys do you?)

When the captain of this whole thing walks in, John Price; with a smile like that of a damn koala bear and air of authority- you decide that, yeah. Maybe you do have a thing for military types.

Go figure.

“You're free to go love.”

You sigh with relief, mostly because you don’t physically think you can handle anymore embarrassment. Your face is starting to hurt from all the cringing you’ve been doing. How are you ever gonna live this down?

“Afraid your phones broken though. Do you know the way home?”

No. Obviously not. You were taken here via military truck with the other soldiers. Frankly you could be in a different country right now and you wouldn’t know because you passed out at some point from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

(Price of course, knows this. He just wants to see you squirm a little longer. Is it wrong? Yeah. But he’ll be damned if you aren’t the most fun thing to mess with.)

“Um no- sir.” You tack on the title quickly, unsure exactly what to call him.

“Alright. I’ll have one of my men escort you home.”

As long as it’s anyone but Johnny you should be able to survive a car ri-

“Soap.”

Fuck.

“Take my car and escort the little lady back home.”

…You just had to think it, didn't you?

(Price knows he’s cruel for messing with you. Mean and terrible really. But the face you make when he calls Soap into the room? Where you look like you go through every stage of grief before landing on depression in .5 seconds?)

(Priceless.)

——————

The car ride is just as excruciating as you thought it would be. Even worse- Soaps a good guy. Charming and fun, sweet even. He jokes and teases you but tries his damnest to make the car ride as comfortable as possible.

Hell he even offers to stop someplace and buy you something for the road. And offer you not let would refuse; but you were at the base for hours, and it’s like 2 AM and you are exhausted and hungry and embarrassed.

So the two of you get some takeout, and eat in Prices car. You would be worried about eating in the car, but Soap makes you comfortable, assuring you the captain would probably be more upset if he let you go home on an empty stomach.

The rest of the drive is cozy after that. He pulls laughter out of you, and embarrassed groans but it’s all in good fun.

By the time you get home, you’re most definitely a little unsteady on your feet just due to how tired you are. He helps you out of the car, and even walks you to your door.

Before he leaves, you awkwardly debate giving him your number. Just so you could buy him drinks or something later down the line to make up for your utter stupidity today- but then you remember your totaled phone.

Damn.

And then, a god seemingly hears your prays because he’s slipping you a sheet of paper.

Drowsily you blink down at it to find a king number string. A phone number.

When you snap your eyes back up to him, he’s grinning.

“You wanted it right lass? Give me a call sometime.”

And then, he’s winking and walking away. Just like that.

…huh. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod fanfic #tf 141 x reader #(kinda?) #Kissing #fanfic #go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool #Read Firewatch #I don’t normally write romance tbh #Those were definitely probably not prop bones #Also reader 100 percent shows up with baked goods down the line #Bro is never gonna live this down #I wouldn’t either #The embarrassment could kill a man.

[bonefall]

I’m rereading Po3 and despite its flaws I really enjoyed the introduction to the three. Jaykit isn’t mentioned to be blind in the first few chapters and instead they chose to show how much MORE capable he is compared to his littermates; until at the end of chapter 3, he brings up his blindness on his own. It makes forcing him to be a medicine cat SO much more frustrating because it really feels like they’re setting him up to be a warrior and choose his own fate (note i haven’t finished the reread this is just my first impression)

I like how you seem to take that path in BB regardless! It makes his arc so much more enjoyable

His arc in canon is super frustrating because he's such an independent character who clearly wants to make his own decisions in life, but then he just gets shoved into the medcat den. I LIKE that he ultimately goes there and that he enjoys it; but it was still really fucked up that they stripped away his autonomy in the process.

Re: they are not real, they are writing choices. Taking away the choices a disabled character can make over their own life, forcing them into a celibate nun role, and then going "awwwww dont worry see? he likes it! This was the best thing for him :)" was fucked up.

And imo it didn't have to be that way! You wouldn't have to go the FULL route I did with big changes, he could just be more involved in the descision to stop being a warrior apprentice and it would be fine. Minor change that would make a world of difference.

I do also have to interject to say though... blindness should really not be an extremely severe impairment for a ThunderClan cat.

I'm dead serious.

Whiskers are built-in sensors that tell you the exact position of everything within several inches of your head, ears swerve to pick up sound, and the jacobson's organ provides a sense of smell so keen that I have an entire Clanmew expansion draft because I needed to make WORDS describing the power of this sense that humans do not have. I cannot stress enough how delicate their other senses are, felines do not rely on their sight like primates do

ThunderClan lives in a mixed-oak woodland, where sight is already often obscured by foliage, objects are close together (for whiskers to feel), and nearly every movement makes noise against the leaf litter. RiverClan and (moor-running) WindClan cats would have a harder time with this disability than Thunder or Shadow.

Cat sight SUCKS to begin with. It sucks BADDD. They don't have color vision, they're significantly nearsighted, and they can't track up-and-down movements well. WC doesn't write realistic cats (more like small fuzzy people really) and I also work with more humanesque eyesight, but the only thing Jay should really lose is an ability to rapidly track a small animal swerving fast. Blind cats are often still excellent hunters in spite of that!

So it's an extra big waste that they railroaded him into a position he didn't choose, saying he couldn't be a warrior. This is the perfect disability to write, if you want to explore how ableism can impact the characters in this society who ARE legitimately still capable of nearly full independence, but still need to find accommodations for what they can't do.

In the same arc they're doing the dumb Cinder Reincarnation Plotline, no less!! Where SHE is also feeling like she has no choice over her "destiny," and gets a conflict over a potentially disabling injury

"Oh nooo if cinderpaw breaks her leg she wont be a warrior!"

"What the f-- Im Jaypaw and im reporting live from the scene where a Category 1 Idiot Moment is taking place. Woman breaks leg, suddenly everyone believes she is a horse, more at 11."

One of these days I should really make "herb guides" just covering how various sensory disabilities impact the lives of Clan cats and some tips for writing them as warriors, especially between Clans. Stuff you wouldn't usually consider, like how much noise deaf cats tend to make, how RiverClan would get a ton of sinus infections and lose their sense of smell, being blind in Sky vs Thunder, etc.

#I once saw someone say offhandedly 'well what if someone snuck up on jay from behind and attacked him. No whiskers there' #NEWSFLASH! YOU ALSO DONT HAVE EYES IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD #He doesn't have short whiskers either they're normally sized #Something like 4 - 5 inches on a cat like him. About double the size of the head foward and sideways #Once you're talking about close combat like the cats usually do there's no way that you can stay back far enough to avoid them #I want to rewrite owl and jay's fight or make a rematch where jay realizes owl is being a coward #Hanging just out of his range and jabbing at him #But once he realizes it's just a coward's strategy it clicks that the counter is to be aggressive #And not let his opponent out of his 'range' #Also give him a neat little scene where they're grappling next to Black's dam project where it's super muddy #And Jay is like 'YOU WANT TO PLAY DIRTY? LETS GET FILTHY' and dunks Owl's face down into the mud #Because Jay can fight without his sight but Owl doesn't know how to continue while there's stinging gunk in his eyes and nose #I like thinking about what I'm going to do for BB!Jay's matches because his fighting style is really fun to write #1. Be aggressive and proactive 2. Don't let them out of range 3. SCARE THEM #From the Mud Match he learns that the best way to end a fight quickly is to absolutely terrify them #Because they're usually not expecting the fight to be difficult nor are they expecting to feel like theyre in danger #So if you surprise them it breaks their willpower real fast #And as he gains a reputation for brutality he faces less opponents until he's practically known as the Cleric Without Mercy #Bone babble

[i-lavabean]

We’re fighting imposter syndrome by misquoting Wreck-it Ralph today

I’m not my favorite artists, but that’s good

I’ll never be my favorite artists, and that’s not bad

There’s no one I’d rather be than me

#my art #horizon forbidden west #art #kotallo #aloy #illustration #candela obscura #circle of tide and bone #axolotl #babybean #lavabean art #I get bogged down comparing myself sometimes #but I’m never going to be Glen Keane or Grace Liu or astralpaint or Jin Kim or Hayao Miyazaki #I am just going to be lavabean. and that’s okay #you’re the only you there is #every piece of art you make or write or draw is limited edition

[spectrum-spectre]

my brain is fucking Vibrating rn

YET ANOTHER STEDDIE AU IDEA!!!!!!!

There's this tv show called Chuck, right? Awkward nerdy dude (Eddie) working at an off-brand Best Buy with his even lamer, nerdier best friend (let's say Dustin). Eddie accidentally gets a super computer installed into his brain and suddenly knows a bunch of top secret government information (and is now the only person on the planet with access to said info, making him a liability asset). Super cool and drop-dead gorgeous CIA agent Steve Harrington is tasked with working alongside gruff, seasoned war veteran/FBI agent Jim Hopper to protect the asset.

#still haven't worked out who Robin could be #i just knew that I couldn't make her be morgan bc that would be an insult to Robin #which is why Steve is not assigned to be chuck #and also because Eddie does not have a single cool bone in his body #like I'm sorry but that boy is So goofy. he could never be a secret agent. #steddie au #chuck nbc #chuck au #chuck tv show #also Hopper would be PERFECT as Casey. #especially since he has a [SPOILER] #but yeah uhhh #if anyone wants to write this #be my guest #*GASP* #BIG MIKE COULD BE BOB #no upside down au #modern(ish) au #oh and also! in the first episode steve dresses up like a ninja!! so he finally gets to live out that dream!!!

[zeinkblotpot]

~Flapjack~

To be honest I drew him without a shirt because 1) I like drawing bones and 2) I wanted to practice drawing translucent skin :D

Please consider reblogging, likes don't do anything on tumblr and reblogging is the only way to keep traction on a post <3

ref pic

#bonezone #sometimes you just gotta draw q!missa shirtless to draw bones #pretend I rambled about how cardinals are connected to death and how that relates to death family and pissa and shit like that #because I am sick with covid so I can't be bothered to write all of that down #implied pissa #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #inkblotsart

[lolhex12]

we don't talk enough abt akutagawa's cough / lung disease (chronic&terminal) yet it has so much angst potential?? anywayy

after the current arc, atsushi knows akutagawa is actively dying and he's the only one who does bc akutagawa didn't tell anyone else abt it. (altho, in all honesty, the amount this man coughs should at least hint at it. i'm honestly amazed not more ppl in the story are concerned abt it)

so, the next mission they have together, akutagawa coughs and atsushi is now aware what it really means, so he wonders out loud with nonchalance masking his concern: "hey, so like, do you think yosano's ability would help with your cough and all? would it go away then?"

akutagawa, wiping his mouth, slightly annoyed: "how would i now? i'm not well-acquainted with your coworkers, weretiger, therefore it's none of my concern. and even then, i wouldn't trust any ada members with my issues, nor my life."

atsushi finds his words a bit sus bc 'u do trust me tho', but doesn't say it out loud and they leave it at that.

somehow, it becomes a regular thing. every time they have a mission together and atsushi hears his partner cough, he presents more ideas of how they could cure a terminal lung disease, and they vary in absurdity as he runs out of inspiration.

his ideas range from mere "have you tried going to a doctor?" (<- at which akutagawa stares in disbelief: "you either think i'm an idiot, or you are the idiot. which one is it?" and atsushi pouts bc 'ok yeah, fair... but also, rude') to insanities like "maybe witchcraft would help! i could look up witches in the area and see if black magic or something has any luck." (<- at which akutagawa is so done he doesn't even entertain the idea and just keeps walking)

they never follow through with any idea tho, bc akutagawa stubbornly refuses to waste time on trying to find a cure when his time on earth already is very limited.

it should also be noted that each time the cough gets worse; louder, rougher, more persistent and even bloody, which only makes atsushi more and more worried.

so one time, akutagawa's particularly annoyed by atsushi's insane and stupid ideas. he turns to him and point-blank asks: "why do even care so much whether i succumb to my illness or not? surely, my death should only leave you overjoyed to see the world be rid of one more evil."

that makes atsushi think bc 'why? why does he care whether akutagawa lives or dies? he's right, a bad person like a mafioso dying should be a good thing.'

after lengthy contemplation he comes to the conclusion that he simply cannot have his sworn enemy/rival/partner die from something as pathetic as a disease. someone as strong as akutagawa has to die in a more memorable way - not alone, in a bed, coughing, with nothing more to be remembered by. if anything he'd have to die fighting atsushi or something. yeah that's it. that's why. (<- it's not, but they're not quite there yet)

so atsushi tells him as much. akutagawa accepts it bc 'yeah, makes sense. what else could the reason be?'

the whole routine of coughing and brainstorming a solution in vain continues as the ideas get even more insane, the cough even worse and atsushi more concerned than ever.

the next time akutagawa is annoyed enough to pose the question again, atsushi is close to tears from anxiety as he holds up akutagawa who collapsed and can't seem to subdue his cough properly.

atsushi struggles to get out the water bottle and cough drops he'd started carrying around on their missions together. he's so scared bc he's never seen akutagawa look so sick and frail before (but not weak. never weak. akutagawa could never be weak in atsushi's eyes. it's impossible, bc akutagawa being strong is a simple, unchangeable fact, constant in any possible universe).

what would he do if akutagawa actually died there? in his arms? on a mission? which would probably get cancelled. would the pm think atsushi killed him? does he bring back the body or just bury it somewhere? pretend he got killed on the mission and not by his own body that had turned on him years ago and was in reality a long time coming? he couldn't even bear to think abt it.

"why tf do u care so much??" akutagawa yells with a scratchy voice before his cough continue despite his best efforts to stop.

atsushi can barely breathe anymore. "because i don't want you to die, you idiot! we're a team! you're my partner. who will i be left with if you go?" tears stream down his face, mainly from how overwhelming his anxiety feels. or maybe bc he really doesn't want his partner to die? nah, it's the anxiety. definitely the anxiety. (<- #denial)

akutagawa, at first embarrassed how his collapse derailed their mission bc goddammit he's supposed to be a professional and not let his issues interfere with his job, pauses when he sees atsushi crying... for him? because of him? ???

he's very confused bc he's pretty sure his rival/enemy/partner should not be so concerned abt his health and impending death, but something abt atsushi's expression and that whole situation makes him rethink his outlook on life.

that's when akutagawa starts taking his health more seriously and actively looks for possible, feasible ways to cure his disease, even if there's only a small chance it'll actually work. bc seeing atsushi like that made him realize there are a handful of people who care abt him and would mourn him if he died; more than just his sister and higuchi.

it made him realize his life had a bigger impact on others than he'd previously thought, not all of it bad.

#i'm insane. i wrote this at 4am and it should not have gotten this long. i just wanted to note down the idea not write it out #fml #they're both very much idiots btw. they care but cannot come to the conclusion it could possibly be in a romantic way #only enemies bc 'grrr ure evil' and 'grr dazai likes u better' #they do eventually get over it and start dating dw trust me i can see the future😌👍 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanon #headcanon #nakajima atsushi #akutagawa ryunosuke #shin soukoku #sskk #akutagawa x atsushi #i desperately need to see more chronic illness!akutagawa content bc it's such a good angst source #and best part abt it? IT'S CANON. CANON CHARACTER WITH CANON CHRONIC HEALTH ISSUES AND TERMINAL LUNG DISEASE #like cmon it's. right. there. we just gotta grab it and the magic will happen #just watched the new ep. #ngl kinda disappointed to see how akutagwa's confession abt his disease was portrayed as an off-hand comment. it needed more impact imo #then again. it's bones <- disappointed but not surprised

[dinamakan]

Read, Listen, Write

Natalie Goldberg once wrote an essay about "Listening":

"Basically, if you want to become a good writer, you need to do three things. Read a lot, listen well and deeply, and write a lot. And don't think too much."

I can easily declare I'm not good enough as a writer. Do I feel proud of it? Not at all, but I can explain the reasons behind that statement.

Reading is a regular habit for me. Whenever I finished a book, I have the urge to find more new readings. I'm also chronically online on Twitter if you count it as reading... Unquestionably, reading may provide an abundance of inspiration for writing— whether the urge to review, to respond, or to write about similar issues. However, there are only a few genres that I enjoy reading. I simply love reflective books; it all made me rethink about life. Hence, I can write, but I'm aware that many topics and techniques remain unexplored in my writings so far.

Active listening is also a primary activity for me, probably equal with eat and sleep. Tons of my writings were based on my conversations with people. I also consistently listen to my heart, my passion, and my past self, in order to write as catharsis. Moreover, song lyrics catch my attention a lot. Sometimes I ask myself why I can't compose writings with such depths.

Talking about how much I write— I've written quite a lot as an amateur, not quite as a professional writer yet. My blog has been up for more than 8 years. If that age is analogous to a schoolgirl, she can already write rhyming poems. Intermezzo, during my third year of blogging, I imagined my blog as a child who just went to kindergarten. I know it makes no sense.

"And don't think too much." Damn, I think too much. This is why.

#diksi #journal #buku #Writing Down the Bones