Coffee Break! [tag Game]

Coffee Break! [tag game]

HOLD UP-

WHAT'S THIS??

NEW TAG GAME YOU SAY???

Time for your characters to take a break from all the things they're going through and have a bit of bonding time(?) with coffee and/or other drinks that bring a sense of comfort. If they stay at home, who would make the drinks ready? Or, where would they be able to order a coffee or a tea? Would they go in a coffee shop or would they go somewhere else? Would there be any interesting conversations happening or would there be awkward silence? Who would be the first to leave?

@yesireadbooks @anonymousfoz @holdmyteaplease @writeblr-of-my-own @a-had-matter @firesmokeandashes @albatris @halfbit @enne-uni @guessillcallitart @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @smol-feralgremlin and everyone else who wants to do this :D

OC 6 Questions Tag

Thanks so much to @paintedbutton for the tag! I've been swamped with work and just generally staying off of socials because my mental health has been in the toilet, so here's to trying to post again!

I'll be using Adrasteia (Kairi) from Crown of Blood (working title):

Give me 5 words to describe your OC, or a picture, even better!

Unhinged, calculating, traumatized, tired (can I add hot? Lol)

Who inspired your OC?

I don't think any single person did. More like I had a cool story idea and made a character that I thought would make sense with that kind of premise, and sprinkled in traits and attributes from myself, people around me, and/or just things I thought were neat.

A song to define your OC

I've used this one before, but probably A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard? There are a few others in my playlist that I like to listen to when writing her, but none of them fully 100% capture her (or at least the parts of her I want seen at the moment) like this one.

If I met your oc on the street how would they greet me?

She wouldn't. If she was making an official trip, you'd be obligated to bow and greet the princess of the nation, and she'll decide if you're worthy of a response lol. If she's in disguise, it'll be by unceremoniously appearing in front of you and demanding whatever it is that she's after.

Can your oc be your best friend? why?

Absolutely not. She'd probably either pretend I don't exist or outright kill me for getting in the way of her plans, lol.

1 adjective and 1 noun to describe your oc

Machiavellian powerhouse

Questions for copying ease:

Give me 5 words to describe your OC, or a picture, even better!

Who inspired your OC?

A song to define your OC

If I met your oc on the street how would they greet me?

Can your oc be your best friend? why?

1 adjective and 1 noun to describe your oc

Gently tagging @amaiguri, @da-na-hae, @anoelleart, @justnerdy15, @theunboundwriter, and anybody else who wants to do it :)

Coffee Break Tag Game

Thanks so much for the tag @athenswrites! For this tag I'll be using my WIP Asteria Heights.

"Large iced caramel frappucino and a spinach and feta sandwich, please. And then for the next order, could I get a small americano and a golden apple tart? Thank you." Meg paid before claiming a seat. With business being surprisingly slow this morning, it wasn't long before her orders were ready. Aven arrived not long after, bags deep and hair disheveled. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend- or more specifically, the coffee she'd ordered for him. "Thank fuck." He collapsed in his seat, seemingly turning boneless. He made grabby-hands at the coffee. Meg snorted, but handed it to him anyway. It was only then that he scowled, scrutinizing the cup. "Why is it so small?" "Because you know damn well that that's the largest you're allowed to have." Aven squawked. "Allowed?! I'm a grown ass man!" "A grown ass man that's barely five feet and lives off caffeine and Takis." "One; the burn keeps me alive. Two; I eat other things." "That's true. Like candy. And the leftovers you steal from me." "You know what? If you're just gonna be an ass, I can leave." Despite his complaints, he made no move to actually do so. Meg grinned. "After I bought your order? I don't think so. You're sitting your ass down and we're spending the day together. You owe me a hangout after last week." She didn't mean it, but she did. With all the bullshit that happened this past month, Aven owed her a normal weekend; especially after he'd double-booked himself and ended up ditching her for Nina. From the way a smile threatened to overtake the fake pout on his lips, it was clear he wasn't going anywhere.

(Gently) tagging: @fayeiswriting, @theunboundwriter, @da-na-hae, and @paintedbutton (and anyone else who's interested)!

WIP game

Thanks for the tag, @tavina-writes! <3

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Here are all the ones that actually have titles! We don't talk about all the thousands of other poor nameless files...

Forgive What We Wept For - Persona 4

Scars We (don’t) Share - The Echo Wife

Every Breath You Take Is Enough to Kill a Snake - Miraculous Ladybug

In Pursuit of the Uneatable - Miraculous Ladybug

Something Man-Made Is Here - Beef

Don’t Talk to the Silence of the Heart - JJBA

Hold Up Our Mirrors - AI: The Somnium Files

We Are All Hangmen - JJBA

God Is the Machine (And We Have Killed Him) - Xenoblade Chronicles/BOTW

Tagging @f-oighear @jubileen @athenswrites @iamwritehere @frenchbullpigs @anyablackwood @theknightswhosay @unmellowyellowfellow @druidx and anyone else who sees this and wants to play! :)

screaming, crying, ripping my hair out at the fact that my WIP is NOT giving what it's supposed to be giving

Find The Vibe Tag Game

Post a snippet that matches the previous vibe

@koala2all tagged me in this snippet and since there's plenty of both fancy parties and annyoing nobles in Worthy of a King, I thought of a younger Aneiric and Bran escaping a particular one in this backstory bit:

Aneiric could never quite tell whether Bran liked or hated feast nights. It was the height of summer, the air warm and heady even inside the castle walls. Flowers had been strewn everywhere. Aneiric had enjoyed it, for a lot of the night, but even he was tiring at this point. That, and he’d almost entirely forgotten what exactly they were celebrating. An engagement? Hopefully not his own, or this would have a dreadfully embarrassing aftermath. He turned towards Bran, who had been a silent presence at his shoulder for most of the night. The captain looked at him, head cocked in askance, eyebrows raised. He’d slicked his hair back, something that didn’t suit him at all. Aneiric wanted to run his hands through it, mess it up, but he knew better than to follow those urges.

“I want to go,” he said instead. He thought Bran smiled before he turned and led the way out of the room.

*

He wasn’t sure why they ended up in the throne room. Moonlight was refracting through the stained glass windows, the only light in the room at all. It was quiet, peaceful. Aneiric planted himself on the throne and looked up.

“This feels wrong,” he declared to the room at large.

Bran chuckled in response. “It does fit your mother better.”

Aneiric agreed, but he still took the opportunity to pout. “Traitor.”

Bran walked until he stood in front of the throne. When Aneiric looked up at him, he couldn’t quite stop himself from swallowing. The shadows did a lot of things to Bran he’d rather not examine with the man right there, standing so close to him.

“Let your mother rule, my prince. It’ll fit you eventually.”

“What? The throne?” Bran nodded. “What if I don’t want it?”

Bran cocked his head. Aneiric couldn’t quite see the expression on his face, it was too dark for that, but he knew him well enough that he could guess at it. “You will be king eventually.”

“I am hoping for a change of mind when I’m old.” He said it with a levity the topic didn’t make him feel. Mostly, he didn’t think about it at all. When he did, all it did was make him sick. Even the thought of the responsibility was crushing.

Bran seemed to sense some of those thoughts. “Old?” he asked lightly, “Like me?”

Aneiric chuckled, leaning back. “You’re not old,” he said.

“You certainly used to think so.” Used to, yes. When he was but a child. Before the crush that ended in a kiss he’d rather forget had ever happened and blood staining Bran’s shoulder.

He stood abruptly. Bran moved back to allow him the space with practiced grace. “Don’t hold that against me.” He knew the smile on his face carried in his voice. “Some would say you’re a man in your prime.”

“Some?”

He was treading dangerous ground. He didn’t know why Bran was treading it with him. “Don’t pretend you don’t see the looks. You could dance with one or two of them, at least.”

In the darkness, Bran’s shadow shifted. It wasn’t exactly defensive, but it certainly was more held-back than it had been a moment before. “I’m on duty. And no.”

“Oh come on, you can dance.”

“I can’t.”

The thought was irresistible. Aneiric stepped forward before he could stop himself. “You’ve definitely been taught,” he declared. He was close enough now to feel the air of Bran’s discomfort.

“I have,” he answered, haltingly, “I wasn’t good at it.”

“It’s only footwork. Here, give me your hand.”

“Aneiric.” His name suddenly sounded dangerous. Aneiric wasn’t certain what he was doing. He’d been so good ever since the incident. He’d sworn to himself he would never push Bran away again, and here he was, doing … Well, he didn’t know what.

“Please?” It was too late. He couldn’t quite keep the wheedle out of his voice. Bran sighed, and a moment later a gloved hand was laid into his.

Aneiric led them through a simple few steps. Say what he wanted, Bran knew how to follow. “It is easier with music. But.” He pulled Bran closer before pushing him in the opposite direction. When he proved graceful enough, Aneiric quickened his own steps. By the end of it, Bran was stumbling and Aneiric couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling from his lips. He stopped abruptly, bringing Bran to a graceless halt before him.

“Oh, you are bad,” he said between hiccupping laughs.

“I did tell you.” He didn’t sound sour at the laughter. In fact, he almost sounded distant.

Aneiric calmed himself enough to look up. They’d stopped close to the window, moonlight casting coloured shadow across Bran’s face. He’d never seen the expression that was on it before – wide-eyed and almost devastated. He couldn’t begin to guess at its meaning.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively, when Bran didn’t say anymore. Bran blinked and his expression changed, smoothing out into something that was supposed to be calm. It wasn’t. His eyes still looked terrified.

“Fine. Are we done making fun of me?”

“I’d never make fun of you. But yes. Think it’s safe to go back to my chambers without being dragged back out into the hall?”

Bran thought for a moment. “I’d say so.”

“You won’t let them take me?” It was supposed to be a jest, something silly to lighten the mood that had suddenly turned so heavy.

Bran, however, had nothing but conviction in him. “I won’t. My prince.”

Aneiric shivered.

Gently tagging @anyablackwood, @charlesjosephwrites and whoever else wants to do this - I am curious what vibe you all got from this :)