"Whatever?"

I just think people write out of obligation too often.

"How do I motivate myself to write through the boring part of my story?"

"How do I make this boring scene not boring?"

Don't write it.

Don't write boring things just because you think the structure of the story demands it. I promise it doesn't need to be there.

If your characters need to have gone shopping for a later part of the story to make sense you can just have a sentence about how they went shopping and move on.

You are not obligated to write the boring parts. No matter what those parts are.

You are not obligated to make the parts of your story that you're not excited to write interesting somehow.

You can just write the fun and interesting parts and gloss over and summarize boring things.

Your audience will thank you and you will thank yourself.

Me: Okay guys remember that it’s important in improv to establish your characters at the beginning of the scene.

Students: ok

Student 1: Hello. I am the president of the United States.

Student 2: Hello madame president. I’m William Shakespeare and I’m here to assassinate you.

Angels Prompts

Angels are not the cute, fluffy creatures the world likes to see them as. They are powerful warriors and are not here to coddle humans.

The wings of an angel are high maintenance and so almost every angel has a companion who helps them out with keeping their wings ready and beautiful.

Sometimes angels like watching over their humans laying in bed. Those destructive little creatures look so peaceful when they are asleep.

All angels are supposed to be siblings. And they do have a family dynamic between them - a very toxic one.

They have been on earth for millennia. Nothing can shock them anymore. Or so they thought.

An angel's wings are powerful, made for flying and fighting. But they are also incredibly soft and wonderful to be surrounded by.

Loving humans as an angel also means watching a lot of them die.

The angels are wandering the world looking like regular people. But if you watch more carefully, it's actually pretty easy to spot one.

They have a job to fulfill, giving to them millennias ago, and almost nothing could get them to abandon that job.

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okay i already lost half the plot 'cause eepy BUT an expatiation on my Villain & Hero Living Weapon Whumpees idea!!

Consider: You all but forgot how to be human long ago (if either of you even knew in the first place), but after one of you is commanded to destroy the other's programing you start to realize that maybe this stranger you've been forced to fight for longer then you call even call "existence" is the only person you care about anymore. The only person who has even a hope of understanding what non-existance is like.

And maybe you two even try to "escape" together, try to fully deprogram each-other. And maybe it even works at first, but between being trained with different morals and spats turned into the same manipulative use of each-other's codes it takes longer then either of you hoped (if it even works at all)

Whumpees who were so used to being an Object for others, made to only wholly and devoutly follow someone else's lead, that they circle around each-other and are so devoted to each-other they no longer know where one "Rouge Weapon" starts and the other ends...

Just As Bad

Stinger pointed his gun at Artichoke.

"If you kill me, you'll be just as evil as me."

Stinger smirked.

"And yet no one will think of me like that. You're Public Enemy Number One, not me. And I'm a bounty hunter. The morality of good and evil don't exactly matter." He dropped the gun, pointing his finger at Artichoke and firing between the eyes. Artichoke slumped over, dead.

“how did you know i was a sub?”

baby I looked at you for 0.3 seconds before you got flustered and shy, cleared your throat, and looked away. you literally almost slipped trying to volunteer to grab something for me. I saw your eyes flutter shut when I leaned in to whisper something. I heard that sharp intake of breath when I told you that you were doing so good.

so go ahead, straighten your posture now. try to delude yourself that you’re not obvious. but you know as well as I do that it really doesn’t matter that you’re taller than me, bigger than me. it’s still just one look from me before you’re on your knees. it’s still my fingers leaving marks along your pretty skin. my voice taunting you, my lips swallowing your whimpers.

my hands working you over until you’re dripping, desperate for more. you like that, baby? feels good, doesn’t it? my pretty sub. so strong. so needy.

my kisses leaving an imprint on your brain that’ll outlast any bruise or scar. permanently rewiring your brain until all you can think about is how to please me, how to be good for me.

the world looks at you and sees someone composed, capable. but you know that you’re naught but a toy for me. ardent and willing. good sub.

let me show you how nice it feels to surrender. let me tease out your moans and your arousal until you’re pulsating and gasping. let me show you what pleasure is meant to feel like.

have you guys done that “what kind of reader are you” quiz and if so what did you get

“I hide behind sarcasm because telling you to go fuck yourself is considered rude in most social situations.”

— Unknown

So i had an idea where a [insert smart character here] after time is unable to tell truth and lies apart. Imagine; Before the smartest person in the group And after, character that questions everything, unsure of what is with or against them. just a random idea, please consider it

considered. loved at first sight. GODDD i hope i did this justice I think its such a brilliant idea

also thanks for letting me use this prompt to procasinate on studying <2

Leader hurdles through the base, everything blurring around him. He stumbles into the infirmary, almost running through Medic.

Medic's exhausted eyes meet his.

"Where are they?" Leader can barely say the words, breathless, slipping out between the gaps in his teeth.

Medic adjusts the lapels of their jacket, the movement automatic—a nervous habit. "You know, they're still confused." Their voice drops an octave and Leader can hear the sympathy, "Maybe you shouldn't go in."

Leader ignores it. His heart threatens to rip a raw-edged hole right through his chest, right then and there. "You didn't restrain them, right?"

"I should," says Medic, quietly. "They're..." they hesitate, gaze probing Leader's panicked expression. Then they sigh, "Listen, whatever you two used to have? It's gone. They're damaged."

"Yeah, but you can fix it. They're brilliant, they'll recover." It's a desperate grab at relief. At hope.

Medic just gestures towards the room. "I don't think I can fix what they did up there."

Hands trembling, Leader turns abruptly and lets the door swing open.

The windowless room is filled with warm light. A mug of something warm sits on the desk.

And Hero, in a t-shirt and shorts, paces the room. New, raw-rimmed stitches cross their bare arms. Medic fixed everything physical.

Leader can't help it. He stares. There's a long, drawn-out second where he recalls the confident Hero of before. With curling red hair and bright eyes, freckled and grinning.

Then there's this scattered, empty person in the room with him.

They’re pacing.

No—counting. Footsteps matching breathing.

“Two-three-four,” they whisper. “Two-three-four. If I keep counting, it doesn’t stop; if I stop, it’ll come back, and they’ll—”

“Hey,” he says, gentle, swallowing down stinging tears. Do you remember me?

Leader's voice tears Hero out of their mind.

They flinch so violently-- scrambling-- grey eyes vacant-- they hit the wall.

“Don’t do that,” they gasp. “Don’t—”

“I'm not doing anything,” he rushes to reassure them, too fast, too helpless. Oh god. "It's just me"

Their hands go to their ears. “They said that too.”

A beat of silence stretches, thick and aching.

Leader doesn’t breathe.

Hero sinks to a crouch in the corner, rocking just slightly, fingers digging into their scalp. Dry strands of hair fall over their hands as they dig. Still counting, still whispering numbers. Like if they keep going, they can hold the world together.

“Don’t believe them,” they mumble. “It’s a test. It’s always a test.”

Oh god.

What have they done to you?

You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don’t know is that since you can’t die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.