mu5icliz:

heirofthelonelymountain:

how to become murderer without worrying about the law in one easy step

• become a writer

(Source: williamowenherondales)

nudityandnerdery:

Still some of the best advice I’ve ever read.

(Source: hobbiteers)

snowychesters:

do you ever reread something you wrote a long time ago and just

(Source: ladygrantaire-archive)

okayophelia:

Archetypes | THE ALCHEMIST

He is dangerous because he challenges the very fabric of the universe with his incessant meddling. Whiling away the bitter hours he toils over ancient tomes and ancient minds. He takes his potions into his vulnerable flesh and starts lightning storms in his bed. He hunts for the grail in his own blood, destroys gods with his every achievement, and his laboratory is his cathedral. In the dark, he does his pure work, and in the light he shimmers with the dust of newborn gold. He will uncover the secrets of the deep earth, he will meld his body to immortality, and he will laugh in the face of time. Freedom is his calling; freedom for all from the cage of the maddening imperfection of the cosmos; for as lead made gold is the most beautiful of all possible forms, so does a perfect and eternal body make a perfect soul. He will find the key to life everlasting, or burn himself alive in the attempt.  In this peculiar way, he is the kindest madman you will ever meet.

Kazza’s List of Interesting Words: Part 1

kgillsrpc:

Definitions according to the Merriam-Webster Unabridged Dictionary, as well as Dictionary.com in cases when the definition wasn’t avaible online for free. I’m mostly collecting these for inspiration in my own writing; but I thought I’d share them with you guys as well.

cynosure — a center of attraction or attention
dalliance — amorous play, frivolous action
denouement — the outcome of a complex sequence of events
evanescent — tending to vanish like vapor
flibbertigibbet — a chattering or flighty, light-headed person
halcyon — calm, peaceful, happy, golden, prosperous, affluent
imbroglio — an intricate or complicated situation
labyrinthine — of, relating to, or resembling a labyrinth; intricate, involved
milquetoast — a timid, meek, or unassertive person
mondegreen — result from mishearing of something said or sung
noctilucous — shining in the night,
permeate — to spread or diffuse through
scintilla — spark, trace

amazinglyartisticadvice:

Good reference for writers OR artists.

(Source: imgfave)

writeworld:

Writer’s Block

A picture says a thousand words. Write them.

Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.

Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!

It looked as if the road would stretch on forever. Funny, the last time he asked, the innkeeper at the last town that he had stayed told him to “just follow this narrow road, and it’ll lead you right to the edge of the country”. She had then followed this up with, “That is where you’re heading, right?”

Almost, he though grimly, as he gritted his teeth and ploughed on trudging through the muddy, earthen path. Earlier on in the day, it had been burning hot, enough to make him see mirages in places ahead of him, but now, since late afternoon, almost out of nowhere, rain had fallen, and the sky had instantly changed from its mighty glare into a moody shade of grey. The pitter-patters of raindrop had come as a blessing to him then, but now, as he kept chanting, “Walk on, walk on, walk on,” to himself and had to summon all his strength to put one feet forward along the road, he began to perspire, in spite of the comforting cold that the rain had brought along. What if he had to spend the night out here, in the vast stretch of wild forests and harsh mountainside terrains? He certainly was ill-equipped for sleeping outdoors.

But what concerned him more was the dateline given for him to submit his scientific research report and his magical creation, which he had carefully packed into a safe case inside his travelling bag, at the science fair, which was located on a research haven for magician scientists such as he -  Magi scientists, at a secret, prime location, exactly on the edge of the country. That was the reason for his going, and the reason he’s stranded in the middle of nowhere now. Although the fair would not start in three days, as he would come as a participant, he would need to send in his submission by tomorrow. He had hoped that he could reach the research haven tonight, so that he would be just in time to submit his work by then. Yet looking at the way things were now…

“WATCH OUT!”

He didn’t even have time to stop all his brooding thoughts and command all alert senses to what was going on - he immediately felt as if he was being pushed aside by an almighty force. Far flung and very forcefully indeed, that he toppled over onto his side, a good distance off from where he originally stood moments ago. 

And then he heard the thundering rumble, and dust suddenly came swirling up like a sandstorm, flying everywhere, and getting some into his eyes, that he shut them and yelped in pain and fear, and covered it with his elbows, squatting on the ground, shivering. The moments that followed seemed to have lasted an eternity.

After the rumbling sound had quietened down and the dust swirled into a much slower dance in the air, he rubbed his eyes a little to clear them - little good it did him - and slowly lowered his elbows. He turned around towards the earthen road where he was tossed away from just now, and saw that a massive pile of rubble had took over most of its place. Not only what, the section of the mountainside that stood facing the place exactly had looked much altered and smaller than when he last glanced at it, seconds before this. A mountain slide.

He looked the whole scene with jaw-gaping awe, perplexed.

Just then, his ears caught it - the sound of boots stepping on the wet, muddy ground. It came from a distance a little away from him, but he turned around just the same, and saw what was probably the source of the earlier shout he’d just heard… and probably the life-saver who flung him away from immediate danger timely.

It was a girl, probably aged much younger than he was in human years. He would know; since he was a Magi scientist, and they generally age much slowly, he’s currently entering his one-hundred and fifty-fifth year. Apart from that, like all Magi scientists, he was adept at guessing at a human’s magical origins (or whether they’ve not got any) in a quick glance, and she was certainly one of them ordinary humans, probably from the last town he had stayed in, since that would be the only human settlement closest to here.

But the flinging part of him…

…now where else would that have come from, if not her?

As she walked closer to him, he saw that she was unlike the other town-dwellers in the last town; her clothing was a stark contrast - a faded pink set of robes, with a deliberately-oversized white hood sewn onto it, already greyed with age and use. Locks of brown hair seemed to flow out from underneath the hood she was wearing, although their sheen would not have been as good as it would have been underneath a glowing daylight, he enthused. Her eyes were a startling hazel pair, which surprised him, seeing as they still glittered with human mirth in spite of this dreadful weather (these falling rocks have been caused by the rain’s water, no doubt of it), though they seemed to also hint with sadness in them. Behind her, it seemed, was an intricate piece of equipment that could only mean one thing…

This lady was a cartographer, wayward travellers who provide services of handing out complete maps and minute directions to any specific place you could name, for a reasonable fee. She had certainly outdone all the others whom he had come across before, seeing as she has added life-saving services to her list of expertise. Clever woman, he silently applauded.

“Greetings,” she said, when she had eventually stopped at a respective distance from where he stood.

“Same to you too,” he managed to say without stuttering (that always happens whenever he had to speak up to people whom he was seeing for the first time). “Uh… I believe I owe you a great big thanks for saving my life.”

“It’s my duty,” she said simply, her expression neutral and cool. “What else could I have done?”

You could have left me to perish on my own, like quite thousands of your grandparents’ generation before you, he thought sadly, but didn’t say this out loud. That had been the fate for most of his own forefathers, which had driven the Magi scientists finally into lives of seclusion, in faraway settlements. Thus was how they had lived ever since, and it had worked well enough to let his current generation be able to walk through any town or city without fear of unwarranted persecution.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked.

“To the… edge of the country,” he said, hesitant. One hand clutched the strap of his traveller’s bag a little tightly.

“Edge of the country? There’s nothing there,” she questioned.

“I have my reasons,” he mumbled.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she then said. “Need help getting there fast?”

That came off unexpectedly, to him, at least.

“Oh? Uh… I… uh… that is to say…”

“You can always say no, if you want. No pressure.”

“What? Nononono - What I meant is… sure thing.” He then felt as if the load of worry on his mind had gone a little lighter. “Why not. Could you get me to this spot,” he fumbled through his trousers’ pockets, and produced an aged, folded sheet of parchment, which he opened up to reveal a very simplified, but concise, map of the region, “before nightfall? If… you don’t object… you can stay the night at this place here, I think, before setting off to go tomorrow.”

The girl waved one hand. “Don’t worry about lodgings for me; I’ve grown up around these parts for years, I can walk backwards through these places plus the mountains with my eyes blindfolded in the darkest night. I’ll stay if I’m too pooped, I’ll be off when I’m not. Now…” The girl looked hard at the spot on the map which he was pointing at, then nodded. “Easy enough, we can get there before sunset, even; I know a good shortcut that we can use, it’s through the mountains, but safe. Well?”

“Sounds delightful,” he said, and folded and pocketed the map again. “How much would that - “

“Until after we get there,” the girl simply quoted.

“Oh. Oh. Well, alright then.” He then hitched his bag so that it would be more secure against his back, just as the girl hitched her special equipment behind hers. “Let’s go,” he said.

“This way, if you please,” she said as she gestured, and walked ahead of him to lead him on, same way as the other cartographers had. But unlike the other cartographers he had met, this girl seemed to appeal a little more towards his liking; for one, she was the first who seemed to be not as nosy as all the others, and two, she seems amiable enough, understanding that there were some things that he couldn’t disclose so lightly, and was able to respect it. That he was thankful of.

Either those, or perhaps because she was the only girl cartographer he had met so far. Most who took up this job had been elderly or middle-aged men, since they were purported to be the best in this job. But she was a cartographer, there was no mistaking the equipment. That, and the golden Roman number on the equipment and another stitched onto her right robe’s sleeve - the numeral XI. Cartographers, by history, were licensed by their respective country authorities to carry these numbers as if it was a part of them, like birth names. The number XI, if he recalled correctly, meant that the bearer was a cartographer recognized and licensed by the highest ruling authority of the governing empire that overlooked the governance of three countries, plus this one.

Not your ordinary cartographer, and not your ordinary lady, he thought amusedly, as they walked in a single-file fashion down the uncommon path cutting through the forests, and would later be through the mountains as she had asserted.

writeworld:

Writer’s Block

A picture says a thousand words. Write them.

Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.

Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!

“Hanjoul?” she whispered, just audible enough for her to hear the syllables she uttered faintly. “But how… what on earth -?”

This must all be a dream, she quickly realized, as she briefly glanced around her. She was…trapped… in some sort of room, filled with water. Water as blue and strangely fluorescent as she had often seen it in the local swimming pool at the community centre, whenever she went submerged underwater and looked up to see above her, where the lights would go through the water, making the exact same, blurry, bluish hue. The whole room she was in right now certainly looked the same as she would when submerging into the swimming pool, come to think of it, except that in this scene, all the items and furniture in this room seemed to choose for themselves whether to stay affixed to where they were, or to go afloat as well. Some of the little picture frames probably coming from tabletops and cabinets had danced quietly all around the room, whereas certain things, such as the huge indiscernible portrait at the far left of the room, stayed right where it was.

And then there were the clocks. A whole roomful of them. Like the other pieces of furniture, some she saw stayed onto walls or top of the cabinets or tables, while some floated around just as well. Some floated, but to her surprise, stayed right where they were hovering, without so much as moving an inch, as the water shimmered and brimmed around her.

And finally, there was him. The only one other person who was also currently in the same room with her.

Him that she would have many a times before this gladly give her life away to see again, him whom she have loved so much and whom she knew loved her just so, if not more, him who had eventually been lost to her, after long last and years of fighting it off himself, braving the daily hassles of the world…

She mouthed the words again, “Hanjoul?” as she slowly made small movements towards him, akin to swimming. The water felt real – cold and wet all around her, yet for some reason, she was amazed that she was still able to breathe, underwater, of all things. And Hanjoul… looked the same as ever, the dashing handsome man with the extraordinarily features (one of her endearing terms to describe him, back then, during the years when they were still living together, and he was still beside her; he was born with tetra-amelia, a particular condition that rendered him with no arms or legs at all) and daredevil-ish attitude (she could just tell – didn’t they know each other for years? She could always find them in his eyes, a quietly-glittering grey pair that often shone whenever he found something exciting to do in daily living).

When she had neared him, close enough, she seemed to have forgotten the peculiarity of everything that was around her; all her senses had dimmed so that she was only seeing him. For a moment in time, nothing else mattered.

Just this man.

“H-Hanjoul?” she asked, bravely.

The man eventually broke into a wide grin. “Hey, babe.”

“Th-This is really you, then?” she asked again, this time her hands raised up gently, slowly, towards him. She first placed one hand on his face, with the other gingerly raised to touch the curly strands of his silver hair, floating lazily above his head. Why, it felt exactly as she had always felt them, whenever they were together and she had held his hair… it felt spongy, and out of a forbidden memory long forgotten since that fateful night when she had lost him, she recalled when she would curl several of them around her finger, then pull her finger away as gently as she could, the curled strands would look for a moment as if they’d straighten out for good, and just as the last of the strands had escaped her finger, they would all jump back into their original, curly nature. Like a spring, she used to tease him. Like a spring, he often repeated with a smile. TOINK!

And then they’d laugh together, during those golden-age times.

“Miss my hair the most, I see?” Hanjoul spoke up again, chuckling, his voice the usual deep, reassuring baritone that she was often accustomed to hear. She then laughed, but this time with tears falling out – she knew them, she would. They felt hot as they left her eyes, a sharp contrast from this coldness of the water they were immersed in. She had hoped that since there’s water all around them, this would go unnoticed.

But he saw them, anyway.

“Oh, no, dear… don’t cry…” Hanjoul’s features softened as he gazed at her. Her face must have given it away, she thought, and she let go of him momentarily to wipe them off hastily, then just as quickly returned to touching him, to holding him, wanting to remember the man she loved the most exactly as he had always been to her, and exactly as he was now. She eventually hugged him tight, and the tears flowed again.

“Don’t cry… don’t cry, my dear…” Hanjoul whispered, as he leaned his head against her, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, as tight as she had ever hugged him, in all his life. “It’s alright… it’s alright…Dear?”

“Y-Yes?” she whispered, not daring to speak any louder, fearing that her voice would break, and it would sadden her – and him – more.

“You know, have I been born with any arms, I would have hugged you back, you know how much I wanted to.”

She laughed, this time her heart no longer laden with sadness and pain as it had moments earlier, and wiped off her tears from her eyes. So did Hanjoul, only she saw that as she had cried and unburdened all her longings and grief upon his shoulders, the best lover in the world (to her, that she knew, and always) had also been quietly crying. Gazing up at his beautiful features fondly, she slowly held one side of his face, and wiped away the last remnants of the tears from his deeply-engaging eyes with her thumb.  His gaze was the same as she had often seen them: happy, with a faint hint of sadness, and deeply searching.

Only this time, unlike many before, she no longer avert her gaze from him shyly. She let him be, and took a good look at him as much as she wanted to… she know she would never have enough.

“I missed you so much,” she eventually said, after a length of pause, and hugged him back, still more tightly, her head on his shoulder. The straying strands of his floating hair tickled against her face, but she didn’t mind… if this was indeed a dream, she wanted to have the most of it all, from him, for as long as she could… she knew that sometime later, if there is to be any ever, she will never would be able to, again…

“And so have I, babe,” Hanjoul spoke softly, as he angled his head nearer to her ear. “And so have I.”

“I’m sorry – “ she blubbered.

“No, stop it. Stop that. There’s nothing to be sorry for, not for you.” She pulled back against him for a little, and looked into those mesmerizing eyes again. “Never for you.”

A dreadful, choking heat had built up at the back of her throat, and she gulped it down, so that she may speak. “I understand. I’m sorry that – “

“What I meant, my dear, is that no, you’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. So you shouldn’t have had to apologize for anything at all, in the first place.”

“What… But why… How could you…?”

Hanjoul’s gaze then turned into a grim, yet mirthful stare. “Do you still doubt me when I say I love you?”

“N-No, but – “

“Then doubt me no more, and take my word upon it; there is nothing to be forgiven, for you haven’t done me any wrong.” Hanjoul then looked down for a little while, as if he was awkward, and had he been born with feet, perhaps those were what he would have been looking down onto right now. “On the contrary, you’ve made my life wonderful, my dear.”

She laughed, a broken laugh, that of between disbelief and uncertainty. Hanjoul had been truthful about that one part, he had loved her. More than she had ever deserved, back then when he was still living. But –

Was she worthy of it, his love?

As if he could read into her thoughts, he spoke again, “You’ve been the only one who could see me for the tortured soul that I am, my dear. Of all the people in the world, in my life, you are the only one who could love me for everything that I am. Before you came, I had never thought that I could ever be that, be loved by someone else. And you came, and showed me just that.”

“Because you are a worthy man, a good soul,” she said brokenly, her voice betraying her, when moments before she had to summon up all her courage and what little remaining strength to speak up, to him. “And I am only some… stray…from out of nowhere – “

“You are a beautiful soul of God, who was unfortunately brought out to live in a state of misfortune and hardship,” Hanjoul interrupted her train of thought, his expression firm. “Do you remember what I always said about you, before?”

She searched back in thought. What about? Her childhood? But what…

“That conversely, you are blessed, even back then?”

Oh yes, that. Blessed, Hanjoul had once praised of her, when she told him all about her dismal upbringing years ago, when they first met, she as a notorious troublemaking university student, and he her professor in her English Literature class. Blessed, he said of her, because it meant that God had foreseen that all these early trials she had faced were the ones that would later shape her, mold her, into becoming a much more stronger person, more greater woman, in life.

Those words were the first of the kindest words that he – anyone – had ever uttered to her. The words that made him more endearing to her, and which she used to hold as sacred.

How could she have forgotten them completely, until now?

Again, the magician that was Hanjoul laughed, as if he could read all the running thoughts in her mind like an open book, and said, “Not forgotten, my dear, merely misplaced in the thinking forests of your mind temporarily. You need certain cues to bring them back forward, remember?”

“And looks like you’ve done just that,” she said softly. “You always have been.”

“Only for a little while,” Hanjoul corrected her. “Remember that towards your third year, you could pretty much do everything by yourself, back then?”

“Oh yes, with your help.”

“I’ve only lent in my help so little,” Hanjoul said. “The rest, you’ve beautifully worked it all out on your own.” He then paused, as if wanting to have a very good look at her, then looked down again, as if he were to look at his feet. He then looked up again, this time his gaze sad and wondering. “Why have you regressed to your old gloom, my love?”

A question that she had often asked herself many times before, since three-hundred and sixty-five nights ago, when she was only at the pinnacle of her heaven on earth next to the man she loved, when so suddenly, he was violently taken away from her, forever. She felt the tears coming up again, but knowing how it wrenched him, she held them back, and gulped to alleviate herself from them.

“I wondered why myself, too,” she answered lamely, her voice barely audible.

Hanjoul sighed, and although she was unsure if she could hold her tears back if she were to look up into his eyes again, that was what she did. And she saw it – he, too, was fighting back his own.

But why for?

“You know why.” Hanjoul whispered, his eyes locked into hers.

Why to the… what? To the question? To her?

Had he known, how many times for the past nights, had she longed for something of this sort, for her to be with him again? Had he ever known, how much he meant to her? Had he ever known, that just as he often asserted – to everyone, including her - that he had always considered himself lucky to have found and been loved by her, that that was exactly the same she felt of him, in her mind?

Had he known, what if felt, to love so much, that she wished she could just die?

To be with him again.

“I’m sorry,” Hanjoul finally said, and this time, she saw – his tears, quietly flowing from his grey eyes, and his face, contorted with sadness and grief, that which she had often been carrying deep inside her for the past nights. “I’m so sorry… I love you… I love you so much…”

“I love you so much, that during those final moments that I was bleeding, all I ever thought of was you – please God let her be safe, please I beg of You keep her safe… and He did; He answered my prayers… when I heard from the cacophony of noises that you are safe in the policemen’s care, I passed away in peace… I felt you, there, by my side, in the ambulance…but my dear… my dear…”

She, too, was crying now, and this time didn’t bother to hold them back, as she held him searchingly, her hands on his face, his head, his shoulder, his chest.

“But my dear… I would never have wanted this of you, for you… never expected that you would still be grieving… I didn’t – I don’t… I don’t want you to keep on holding for me, not like this… I love you, I love you… but please, please… would you… do me… a favour… for my sake…for me?”

Pain erupted somewhere within her chest, but she paid no heed… it no longer mattered… it had never been… ever since she had appeared in this room, nothing else had… all that does was that she was now finally here, with him, after so long…

“Please? Please, I beg you…. will you do it for me?”

“W-What?” she asked. Something nagged in her mind – she might never like this – but she had always loved this man, and strove to listen to him.

“Forget me.”

“Wh- What?” she asked again, half-laughing, half-crying. “You… You… how could you say such a thing to me? After all this time? After everything? I love you so much, and…!”

“Then if you truly do, please…” Hanjoul said, his gaze enough to captivate her that she was immediately quiet, and her hands paused on each side of his face. “Please, forgive me. Forget me…. forget all of this…”

“…but… but Hanjoul… why?”

“Go… and move onwards. Get along. Life is fast leaving you behind, my love. And you are still young, a beautiful girl, a talented woman. You have a bright life ahead of you. No, don’t argue, this I know. Too well. You have got to be going on.”

“I will, you know, I will be.” She then sobbed again. “But please, please, don’t tell me to – “

“…it’s no use, I’m afraid. It’s the only way. You can only move onwards, if I was to be a repressed or long-forgotten, distant memory. I don’t want you to waste your years away, holding on to the past that is me. That can never be, I know that already. I have to let you go… so you can keep moving on.”

She was silent for a few moments. For a while, nothing else happened saved for the shimmering waters around them. The lighting of the room, without any of them noticing, was slowly beginning to darken, as if the lights high above the supposed swimming pool had been slowly dimmed…

“…but not without you…”

“…yes, it must be without me.” Hanjoul sighed. He looked at her with a searching gaze, as if being on tenterhooks to know her answer. “Please… if you love me…”

“…I’ve always have, and always will be… you know that…”

“Oh, that I do,” Hanjoul said, smiling a little, but his eyes still sad. “I know that, always. No matter what, my heart is always with you. All my love, is always for you. No matter what. So you can move on, as you please… don’t worry about me; I’ll always have the memories of us two together, always.”

“…if I say yes now, and do happen to forget…” she repressed her lips, to stop them from curling downwards in grief. “And… this… again… you know… can I always come back to you, and…”

“Get them back?” Hanjoul paused thoughtfully, then smiled. “Of course; it’s all yours, if you wish. I could keep them carefully for you, if you’d like, so whenever you want to return to – us – again, you’re free to. I’m always here.”

“…in this room?”

“In wherever it is that you happen to find me,” Hanjoul clarified. He then smiled, and the traces of sadness that were in his eyes seemed to have dimmed forever more.

She then broke, perhaps for the first time since a hundred years have passed unnoticed by her, into a huge smile. “You’ve always been the careful type, so I trust you.”

Hanjoul shrugged his shoulders, the only limit of which the arms he was born with. “Had to, for a man born with no limbs.” He then laughed, and so did she, and even as the room darkened further, she stared into those deep, grey eyes, perhaps for the last time.

“Can I… kiss you…goodbye?” she asked gingerly.

“Why yes, please,” he said. “I was going to ask you that. I’d love to have what last I could, of your lips, for this last time.”

She laughed again, then looked some more at him. “I love you, Hanjoul.”

“And I love you, my dear.”

She then slowly leaned into his face, her closing eyes seeing his face for the last time… then the quiet parts of his face that she strangely admired; his cheekbones, his nose… then his lips…

And the heavens flooded open for them.

*           *           *

“Doctor, how is my friend?” the man in the bottle-green suit asked, as he and the other man in his white lab coat stood by the bedside of the woman who had just been conscious from her deep coma, attended dutifully by the nurses.

“It’s… it’s extremely remarkable, I declare,” the doctor said, gazing at the data on his patient chart with small headshakes, looking at the patient, observing the readings on the monitors placed nearby her, back to the patient chart he was holding, then finally looking up to the first man, his head still shaking in disbelief, although his face was forming a quiet, glad smile. “A miracle – she was found having been overdosed with the drugs that the damned criminal had given her, practically near-drowning when he decided to plunge her into the pool –“

The man in the suit grimaced when he heard that from the doctor.

“- but right now, above all, she’s returning back to consciousness, though far from normal status yet. Even so, I would have never dared to believe that she’s waking up so soon and easily, not like this, yet she has. Survived, most importantly – and that’s what astounds me!”

“She’s always been a fighter,” the man in the suit said, gazing sideways at the girl, now attempting to breathe normally as the nurses weaned her off from the mechanical ventilator she was made to use for the past few days. “Who would have thought that the old mugger who had killed her husband would have been so stupid enough to go back after the wife again? Thank God, this time, the man was found and arrested – now in prison. He’s going to face some heavy charges, especially once this Wonder Girl here gets back onto her feet.”

“Hopefully, that will be within the time frame as expected for her, if not sooner,” the doctor said amiably. He had to admit, the girl seemed to leave an impression that once upon a time, she was one of those captivating, pretty sorts of good girls, although now she looked as if much of her life had been wasted away, probably long before this. “You are her friend, you say?”

“More like colleagues,” he sighed. “I once had some sort of crush on her, but when she married, I decided to stay back and remain as a good friend only, enough to assuage myself. But then… this happened… when the husband died, she was no longer the same as she was before… I had offered to help in what any way I could, but the grief was too much for her, and she turned away, choosing to keep to herself mostly… if the neighbours hadn’t been alert to the house break-in nights ago and bravely went in over to catch the damned criminal, I don’t think she would have – “ He couldn’t finish the words.

“There, there,” the doctor said. “She was lucky to have a good friend and some trustworthy neighbours nearby, during these times. Grief can be very devastating; especially when it’s the loss of someone we love the most.” Here, the doctor’s face suddenly turned sad, and the man in the suit noticed this, and said no more.

“Doctor, I think the patient’s in good status now,” one of the nurses then broke the awkward silence.

“Very good… just a little while… I want to get the second reading of her GCS reading,” the doctor said, and ventured forward next to the woman. “Good morning, my dear. I’m Doctor James. How do you feel?”

The woman seemed irresponsive at first. And then, with a shaky lift of her hand, she brought it up towards her head, and seemed to form a circular motion with her pointing finger at its general directions. “Disssss… ssy,” she whispered tiredly.

“Dizziness,” the doctor immediately checked on the patient sheet he was holding, then smiled at her. “It’s alright… this would only be temporary; you’ve just woken up. It’ll subside in a few days, give it some time. Now…” he beckoned towards the woman’s friend to come closer, and he did so, hesitantly. “Look here. This man is…?”

“Alastor,” the man introduced himself, more to the doctor than anyone else. “Alastor Creevy.”

“Alastor Creevy,” the doctor repeated, as he looked at the girl. “He is your friend.”

“Colleagues,” Alastor chipped in, this time more towards the woman, his gaze slightly misty. “You remember? We went to University together; we also work at –“

“Patience, Mr. Creevy, she’s just woken up, let her rearrange her memories at her own pace,” the doctor said. “He’s your friend. Do you recognize him?”

The woman looked at him for a little while, her gaze unreadable. The doctor then remembered something, and pulled out a pen and paper from the bedside table next to her. “Here… if you find some words that are familiar to you, try writing them here.”

It took her some effort to grip the pen with one hand, while the doctor helped put the paper up for her to write. She then squiggled some words with little difficulty, (“This is normal for those who’ve just emerged from coma, don’t worry,” the doctor had reassured Alastor) but eventually succeeded in writing something. “Thank you,” the doctor then said, and helped ease her out of the pen she was gripping tight unintentionally, and put the paper up to read it first. His eyes widened for a moment, his expression showing that he was completely stunned, then his gaze turned to that of a man who had just been informed that something urgent needs must be done, as he passed the paper to Alastor. The latter man wondered what had happened, but when he looked at the woman’s writing on the paper, something heavy struck him cold in his chest.

“Creevy is who?” she had wrote.

She had forgotten. 

Best Character Outline I’ve ever seen in the history of mankind.

zalein:

chinchillaghosts:

reavien:

fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment:

brianna-mcbride:

http://www.panix.com/~felicia/character/character.php

CLIIIIICK IT.

Sweet Jesus, bless whoever made this! Click it, its amazing!

- Pen

Holy mother of God, this makes me happy.

whaaat

Holy crap will this ever sit you down and make you think about every little detail of your character right here and now.

Plot Theories: RPGs Have All the Best Plots

writeworld:

Do they ever.

RPGs (Role-Playing Games) have seized the common story and twisted it in every possible direction. With all the wringing, they’ve managed to squeeze out a slew of useful plot types. Let’s explore those now.

Each short plot description starts with the title (in bold) of the plot pattern. After a hyphen the main characters to be found in the plot are given, separated by commas.

1. Supplication - Persecutor, Suppliant, a Power in Authority
2. Deliverance - Unfortunates, Threatener, Rescuer
3. Revenge - Avenger, Criminal
4. Vengeance by Family upon Family - Avenging Kinsman, Guilty Kinsman, Relative
5. Pursuit - Fugitive from Punishment, Pursuer
6. Victim of Cruelty or Misfortune - Unfortunates, Master or Unlucky Person
7. Disaster - Vanquished Power, Victorious Power or Messenger
8. Revolt - Tyrant, Conspirator(s)
9. Daring Enterprise - Bold Leader, Goal, Adversary
10. Abduction - Abductor, Abducted, Guardian
11. Enigma - Interrogator, Seeker, Problem
12. Obtaining - Two or more Opposing Parties, Object, maybe an Arbitrator
13. Familial Hatred - Two Family Members who hate each other
14. Familial Rivalry - Preferred Kinsman, Rejected Kinsman, Object
15. Murderous Adultery - Two Adulterers, the Betrayed
16. Madness - Madman, Victim
17. Fatal Imprudence - Imprudent person, Victim or lost object
18. Involuntary Crimes of Love - Lover, Beloved, Revealer
19. Kinsman Kills Unrecognised Kinsman - Killer, Unrecognised Victim, Revealer
20. Self Sacrifice for an Ideal - Hero, Ideal, Person or Thing Sacrificed
21. Self Sacrifice for Kindred - Hero, Kinsman, Person or Thing Sacrificed
22. All Sacrificed for Passion - Lover, Object of Passion, Person or Thing Sacrificed
23. Sacrifice of Loved Ones - Hero, Beloved Victim, Need for Sacrifice
24. Rivalry Between Superior and Inferior - Superior, Inferior, Object
25. Adultery - Deceived Spouse, Two Adulterers
26. Crimes of Love - Lover, Beloved, theme of Dissolution
27. Discovery of Dishonor of a Loved One - Discoverer, Guilty One
28. Obstacles to Love - Two Lovers, Obstacle
29. An Enemy Loved - Beloved Enemy, Lover, Hater
30. Ambition - An Ambitious Person, Coveted Thing, Adversary
31. Conflict with a God - Mortal, Immortal
32. Mistaken Jealousy - Jealous One, Object of Jealousy, Supposed Accomplice, Author of Mistake
33. Faulty Judgment - Mistaken One, Victim of Mistake, Author of Mistake, Guilty Person
34. Remorse - Culprit, Victim, Interrogator
35. Recovery of a Lost One - Seeker, One Found
36. Loss of Loved Ones - Kinsman Slain, Kinsman Witness, Executioner (x)

What did we tell you? Awesome, right? Each of these plot types conjure a very clear idea in your head of the action in the narrative, and each represents a time-tested yet very flexible plot. Combine a few by making one into the main plot and some others into minor plots, and you’ve got yourself a pretty sweet story.

For examples of each type of plot, visit this site and look for the heading Sample Plots.

aseaofquotes:

Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

(Source: aseaofquotes)

aseaofquotes:

Sherman Alexie, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven

Submitted by nightaurora.

I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that’s where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.

Markus Zusak, The Book Thief (via thegirlandherbooks) —

(Source: gifmovie)

I think that all writing is useful for honing writing skills. I think you get better as a writer by writing, and whether that means that you’re writing a singularly deep and moving novel about the pain or pleasure of modern existence or you’re writing Smeagol-Gollum slash you’re still putting one damn word after another and learning as a writer.

(I just made that up. I imagine it would go something like: “Oh, the preciouss, we takes it our handssses and we rubs it and touchess it, gollum….no, Smeagol musst not touch the preciousss, the master said only he can touch the precioussss…. bad masster, he doess not know the precious like we does, no, gollum, and we wants it, we wants it hard in our handses, yesss…” etc etc)

Neil Gaiman on fanfiction (via wibblywobblyotp)

BECAUSE THIS.

(via mycroftsmindtardis)

Neil Gaiman. Just wrote Smeagol/Gollum slash. Your argument is invalid.

(via roane72)

Neil Gaiman made up a Smeagol/Gollum fic.

Neil Gaiman made up a Smeagol/Gollum fic.

But seriously, getting down the grit of what he says here, epic man.

(Source: lokisathorable)