Show Don't Tell(and How To Apply It)

show don't tell (and how to apply it)

I know I write about this a lot, and maybe I should elaborate a little. "show, don't tell"—use description in your writing, rather than saying it outright. and I think the difference is, really, for the reader: whether they are in the story, or outside of it.

you know what we read for: to escape, to find a new world. but would you rather truly live the adventure, or skim through texts about it?

here it is, simply.

showing - describing, telling things to the reader without saying them outright.

telling - showing something to the reader without any fancy words.

and doing this, it makes the characters more real. tangible, not a fantasy.

but they don't need to be all the time. so when do you use it? an easy way could be to write it all out, the way you intend it to be. do you see the world felt, or a variation of it, scattered throughout the writing? try swapping out how they feel with description that shows the reader it. do you use adjectives such as "pretty", or "big"? they're variable in different situations. use metaphors, similes, to show us that's its' pretty.

and then send your writing to someone. to a friend, to a relative, for anyone but yourself to read it. you want them to think "oh, that's pretty", rather than you tell them, because how would they know? if they understand you intention, and if they feel something, you know you must be doing something right.

*though with all writing advice, I should say this doesn't apply to everyone! writing advice is advice, and that's all it is. excellent writers get by without applying this, and they get by with using this.

The prettiest of them all

Do I need you, my hope, my gun? Do I owe you my everything? My heart, my liege, my second birth

why are you so angry grian (scarian vs pearl)

100% inspired by the severe brainrot this awesome fanart by @wasted-by-someone caused go show the artist all the love

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It felt like Grian’s soul was being torn in two. She held his strings of fate in her fingers, and she could play him like a fucking puppet. Sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled clawing at his chest in hopes of somehow being able to fight back, a twisted tug-of-war for his soul.

As Pearl had slipped into scarlet madness, she’d become a part of this game like nobody else ever had. She could see the threads, the ropes, be they fraying or steel, and she could reach out and touch them, grip them, pull them.

Grian’s throat made an incoherent guck sound as he fell forward into the dirt, clawing at the ground, scrabbling for a hold somewhere. 

He couldn’t let her do this.

He screamed in agony, spittle flying as he wrenched himself back, and somehow there was a glimmer of green, just a flash, and he grabbed for it wildly, his hands closing around something invisible but there, so unequivocally there, and it fucking hurt but it was his and he didn’t want to lose it…didn’t want to lose him…

“Why are you so angry, Grian?” Pearl’s voice was a low purr, but somehow it resonated in his ears, inside his head. “We both know you don’t want him.”

Another scream tore out of his throat, this one marred by tears, and he dug in his heels, his fists around the thin threat, fuck it was so thin it cut into the flesh of his palms.

Guilt twisted his guts cruelly, and he knew he deserved it. He continuously hurt the man he loved, over and over and over, and he couldn’t stop. They were cursed to do this dance forever, he was cursed to fiercely love Scar and then maim and kill him forever.

Them being soulbound was just fucking icing on the cake. Because every single decision he made affected Scar, he couldn’t avoid him this time, couldn’t just stay away. Their souls were linked.

He’d been weak, weak and upset, finding solace in the arms of another man. He cared for BigB but not like Scar.

He could never care for anyone like he cared for Scar.

Grian had convinced himself that this was why they were so toxic for each other, that he could just pretend and everything else would go away, just pretend for a little while.

But Scar had known. Of course he’d known. And instead of confronting him, instead of fighting him, he’d joined Pearl, resigning to his fate of being abandoned, unloved, forgotten.

“I’m setting you free, Grian.” Pearl barely seemed to be even trying, the thread twisted through her fingers like a child playing Cat’s Cradle. “And when he dies…and he will die long before you-”

“No!” he cried, a sob wrenching his chest as blood poured from his hands, soaking his forearms.

“He will.” Her crimson eyes sparkled with bloodlust in the moonlight, like laughing rubies. “He’s lost all his fight.”

No, Grian thought desperately, blinking rapidly, the tears like a waterfall now. Scar wouldn’t give up, he would never…

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth saving.” She yanked, and he fell, blood slick between his body and the grass. “You make him feel worthless.”

No… Still Grian fought, gripping the invisible thread, sobbing, the pain all-encompassing now, she was going to tear his soul free of his body and his heart would go with it and he would die, wouldn’t he? 

Because he couldn’t live without Scar.

That’s why this was the way it was.

Because back in the desert, in the end, they’d had to fight, and Scar had fallen, and Grian had been forced to live without him. He’d barely lasted five seconds.

He should have known then.

That they couldn’t survive apart.

Even then, their souls had been bound.

They always had been.

And now Pearl was trying to take him, forcibly rip him from Grian’s body.

“No!” His voice came out raw and deafening, and for the split second that she flinched in surprise, he launched to his feet, finding strength he hadn’t known he possessed.

He coiled the thread around his forearms, biting into more of his tender flesh, and hit Pearl like a ton of bricks. They both went down, but he made sure to get a fistful of her hair, exposing her throat as they tumbled through the grass. Somehow, he got the thread around her neck, pulling her back against his chest.

She didn’t flail. She didn’t thrash. She didn’t even try to dig her fingers beneath the string digging into her flesh.

“The humane thing to do would be to cut him loose.” She was so calm. “I’ll make it quick and painless for him.”

Grian’s green eyes hazed red, and he saw nothing but crimson. The thought of Pearl, bringing her axe down on Scar, and him unmoving, accepting his fate, letting himself die because he thought he wasn’t worth it-

He screamed, muscles taut, and the thread of his soulbond went lax as Pearl’s head rolled across the grass.

Grian blinked rapidly at her diembodied head, ruby eyes shining, the ghost of a smirk still on her dead lips, as if she were in on a secret.

“Why did you do that?” Scar.

Scar was here.

Grian dropped the invisible thread, and his chest throbbed as he scrabbled backwards in the grass.

“S-scar,” he stammered, voice hoarse, throat raw, as if he’d swallowed all the sand in the desert.

“Why did you do that?” Scar asked again, taking a step forward. He looked haunted, ghostly, his eyes wild and desperate.

Because you’re worth saving, Grian thought, but he couldn’t make his mouth move. Because you’re worth everything.

Scar pressed a hand to his own chest, palm flat, fingers splayed, as if he were trying to hold his heart together. “Why?” His throat was thick, on the verge of tears.

Grian couldn’t stand it. It was torture to watch Scar bleed, agony to watch him cry.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to live without you. Please don’t make me live without you.”

As Scar’s eyes widened, Grian could feel the thread lift, as if it were tightening, strengthening. He couldn’t grab it anymore, but some how he knew that if he could, it would no longer be a thread, but a rope. He felt…anchored.

“I didn’t…I didn’t…” Scar stammered, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Grian got to his feet slowly, as if moving through water, bringing his hands up to cup Scar’s face. “I’m so sorry. All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

Scar shook his head, offering him a watery smile. “I’d rather it be me than you.”

Grian choked, blinking rapidly through salty tears. Was this where they were at? Scar didn’t want to see him hurt, so he just took the mistreatment so he had to shoulder the pain?

“We’re so fucked,” Grian breathed.

Scar let out a low chuckle, even as a tear streaked down his beautiful face. Grian brushed it away with his thumb, as if he could scrub the emotions away with his bare hands.

“But you love me,” Scar whispered, and it was almost a question, almost a breath of desperation, like he was waiting for the bubble to burst and all of this to be a lie.

Grian stared him straight in the eyes, pulling together all of his courage. The courage to hold his love close instead of pushing him away for fear of seeing him hurt. For fear of having to hurt him.

No more fear. He just wanted the other half of his soul to be here, with him, and he would murder anyone who threatened them.

“I love you,” he said, and the rope of their bond became diamond, solidifying and drawing them together, and when their lips met, it was as if the game had started all over again, as if the world were reborn, giving them a second chance, third chance, fourth chance, every chance.

Grian wasn’t going to waste this one.

[ao3]

DOUBLE LIFE DUOS!!!!!

"Really, wings?"

The voice came out of nowhere, causing the hero- who had just taken off their overshirt to reveal said wings, to whirl around. It was who the easily recognizable voice belonged to; however, that really made their stomach plummet.

Their wings were so sore from being stuffed and folded beneath their costume. Luckily a large cape helped to hide the unnatural bulge of their back quite well. They ached to finally stretch out, but the hero pinned them to their back, hopelessly trying to undo the damage that had already been done. They sucked in a breath.

The villain tilted their head at the other's silence, taking a step forward. The hero mirrored with their own step back, causing them to bump into their dresser. Their hands fisted in their shirt, holding it up to their chest like they could hide behind it.

The villain's gaze, which had been... intrigued yet surgical, softened into something... something. They held up their hands, lifting the side of their coat with their elbow to reveal an empty belt, "Easy, I'm unarmed, I come in peace," their eyes drifted from the hero's face to over their shoulder, "If not... interest,"