this isnt deep or long i just like it. godspeed courtney for having to deal with a protagonists hubris
I have no idea how fast this thread will die considering majority of the people here are artists rather than writers, but it probably won't hurt trying!
The idea of this game are very simple: Post a line (or a few) from your writing project, whether it's a novel, short story or OC bio / background detailing!
It can be something you're really proud of or something you simply like, or just want to share with other people! Feel free to also tell others a bit about the context if you feel like it
Rules & guidelines:
- Keep them PG13 max! Let's keep this game something everyone can participate to and read without fear!
- Sensitive content should be either blacked out like this THIS or under spoiler. Again, make sure it's PG13 max!
- No fanfiction lines unless they contain an original character of yours in the line(s) you post!
Don't double post.Double posting is allowed! Otherwise this thread will die lmao- You're allowed to post longer chunks of text too, but keep it moderate and put it under spoiler tag so people don't need to scroll through all of it to reach the next post!
- Feel free to post as IC if your story line is related to a character you have!
Also, here is a general thread for writers if you want to hang out with others or talk about your projects! And if you have anything to ask, feel free to ping or dm me!
WW2 plot stuff. Done a few headcanons in that setting recently after a frustrating dry spell but this one’s my fave of the bunch!
“What got you into flying?” Beck asks. The question had been playing over his mind for a while, on the tip of his tongue but he’d never had the courage to voice it until alcohol had loosened his inhibitions.
“I used to envy the birds,” Hendrix says simply. “There’s a sort of freedom in flight I never got on land,”
“Huh,” Beck takes a drag of his beer. Hendrix was one of those people that looked like he’d crumble under the pressure of military life but somehow thrived instead. Beck envied that, he was struggling. Hendrix knew that, their whole training squadron knew that. Worse, the bulbous nosed sergeant responsible for training their flight and making Beck into the whipping boy knew that. Beck had found out by someone all too gleeful to tell him there were bets on him being the first to wash out of the course that he was determined to power through out of spite.
“Yourself?” Hendrix says, his sharp pale blue eyes seemed to pierce Beck’s soul. He finds he can’t hold eye contact for long.
“My father trained race horses. I wanted to try gliding so he cut a deal; I did yard work in exchange for gliding lessons,” Beck shrugs. He’d enjoyed it but still didn’t know how he felt about flying for the military. It seemed the better option than the Navy (as much as he loved his boating) or worse being drafted for the Army.
working on chapter 7 of flashslip's dreams~ i've been thinking about changing some things in this little snippet (particularly: how does Cloudstorm look different? i feel as though it needs addressing) but here's the opening for it (:
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No matter how many times Flashpaw visited Starclan, it still made her uneasy to wake up and see the endless tree trunks stretching towards that blood red sky. With no stars above, the hot air around her felt stifling. Quickly, she scrambled to her paws, wincing as the action agitated the injury in her shoulder.
"Flashpaw," a voice purred out, and she whipped around to see Cloudstorm sitting on one of the great oak's huge roots. The dim light washed the tom in shadow, and for a moment Flashpaw shivered, shaken at how different he looked tonight.
"Cloudstorm..." She greeted him. He continued to stare at her until she took a deep, shaky breath. She hadn't prepared what she was going to say to him; she had merely expected that she would be taking a nap before the Gathering. I guess that is kind of ignorant. He's been appearing in my dreams more and more recently...
I've been in bit of a slump but my WW1 kick has shaken some ideas loose. I like this excerpt:
The hard part is shit talking Jasper to the men to keep up appearances when the men roast him for sharing digs with an officer. William finds he can't and what he does to bite out he can't muster enough venom for it to be believable even to his own ears. None of them seem to care particularly, too interested in a cheap laugh for a distraction of the day's stresses.
William finds trivial stuff to complain about, Jasper feeding him bait to give the men with more amusement than the situation should warrant. Jasper likes fucking with petty people, something William came to learn very quickly and William knows he shouldn't be surprised Jasper's finding entertainment in this.
By the end of the week William can do a spot on impression of Jasper's Suffolk accent, softening the edges of Jasper's harshly cut syllables very slightly.
I've had this story in my head for years and I just started actually writing it.
"Mason Hawthorne was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He stood on the theater balcony, gazing past the throngs of high-class socialites around him. The buzz of gossip, the smell of champagne and whiskey, the feel of excitement in the room were all lost to him as he gazed past the glass walls and into the darkness beneath them. The auction floor hadn’t opened up yet. The spotlights that would showcase the items to be won were still dead- just like the items themselves."
"And with Grief covering her soul, Grief she became."
No english in this story (because i am *~.Lazy.*~) but it's basically about a witch that used her witchcraft credit card too much and the universe had to confiscate her stuff to pay off her debt, so it took her husband and child. It's a line I plan on reapeating on her colleagues' stories as well but with Pain and Despair instead of Grief, and the story about how each of them came to be.
Heh, AstroWildcat you gave me the idea to post this section of my writing ^^
He[Gadget Scarsky] caught her [Nadia Bloodlust] body and held her up with one paw, still pressing against her chest wound with the other. “I’m not gonna tell you ‘goodbye’.... I can’t…. I won’t…” He exhaled loudly as he began to shudder and tears ran rampant down his face. “...I sound so selfish but…. don’t let this be my last memory of you!”
Nadia began to sniffle as tears ran down her face as well, both from her extreme pain and seeing him so troubled. “I… won’t….. force... you…to... remember….” She then stroked his face, her face twisted in a look of deep concern for him. “...goodbye, Gadget…. Beat up…. the... Empire for... me….” She closed her eyes; and with a voice that had almost perished she somehow found the strength to sound one final groan…..then collapsed. The she-wolf became lifeless almost instantly.
This is one of my favorite scenes from my award-winning fanfiction novel, Fighting Flatlines. The two characters pictured are rebels for a Resistance in their world and they were a part of a failed military operation that killed 80% of the rebel army and left the rest scarred with PTSD and depression.
I had tons of better lines that I could've put, but the OC only rule prohibited it.
She's hardly in the story but I love how I've written Captain Marlay, she like the strong gay aunt that everyone needs if their life.
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Marlay seemed sceptical but nodded, before turning her attention to Shadow, "And whose this?" She asked as she jabbed a thumb in Shadow’s direction. Shadow smiled weakly as he gave Marlay a tiny wave.
"This is Shadow" Gulson paused "A friend of mine?" Marlay and Shadow both gave him an odd look, though Shadows boarded the line of turning into a genuine smile. Coughing into his fist Gulson gestured to Marlay. "Shadow this is the Captain of the Lakemore Police Department, Mrs. Megan Marlay."
Shadow stuck out his hand, offering a handshake, "It's very nice to meet you ma'am."
Megan seems a little off put by Shadows fashion choice at first, but seems to get over it quickly. Grabbing the offered hand Megan gave Shadow a strong shake.
"It's nice to meet you too Shadow, it's good to know Gulson does at least have some friends." They both sent the detective a cocky smile, as he rolled his eyes.