Any tips to stop feeling so guilty about not writing?
I keep trying to write new stuff for readers and myself, yet I lack energy and motivation. I've been stuck like this for a while. It could be burnout. I don't know, but any advice on how to get out of this rut would be helpful. <3
And I have to say the artist! Soap and medusa! Ghost got me thinking, could you explain the concept to me and the characters to me 👀
Pretty pretty please
I will gladly talk about them because they are my little guys <3
I'm still working out some of the plot details, but Simon was born a monster. He grew up with only his father, who hid him away in shame of his identity. He was told his entire life that when he was born, he turned his mother to stone. When he learns the REAL truth of his mother's death, he turns his father to stone and flees, ending up lost in the mountain and making it his home.
Many have tried to come and use his power, the man closest to honing it being Manuel Roba, but eventually, he killed him. Now, he lives in isolation on the mountain. The king sends someone to kill the monster in the mountains every year.
Now, where Soap comes in!
Soap is a famous painter hired by many nobility in the kingdom. He commits an act of treason against the crown and receives one of the worst punishments an artist can receive, they take his eyes. Then, he is sent to the mountain to be killed by the beast.
I think you can infer where I'm going with this :D
And I have to say the artist! Soap and medusa! Ghost got me thinking, could you explain the concept to me and the characters to me 👀
Pretty pretty please
I will gladly talk about them because they are my little guys <3
I'm still working out some of the plot details, but Simon was born a monster. He grew up with only his father, who hid him away in shame of his identity. He was told his entire life that when he was born, he turned his mother to stone. When he learns the REAL truth of his mother's death, he turns his father to stone and flees, ending up lost in the mountain and making it his home.
Many have tried to come and use his power, the man closest to honing it being Manuel Roba, but eventually, he killed him. Now, he lives in isolation on the mountain. The king sends someone to kill the monster in the mountains every year.
Now, where Soap comes in!
Soap is a famous painter hired by many nobility in the kingdom. He commits an act of treason against the crown and receives one of the worst punishments an artist can receive, they take his eyes. Then, he is sent to the mountain to be killed by the beast.
I think you can infer where I'm going with this :D
I was initially going to write an angst fic where SoapGhost was in a toxic relationship, but I can't bring myself to do it. So, instead, you can have all the dialogue I picked out for it.
Ghost is a broken man but tries to fix himself with Johnny
He doesn’t realize he’s dragging the man down with him
Soap finally comes to terms with the fact that Simon isn’t good for him
——
“Simon, I can’t fix you.”
“Please, Johnny, I'm trying. I’m really working on myself this time.”
“You can’t change Simon. It’s in your nature.”
“Just give me another chance, Johnny.”
“No, I won’t let you drag me down into your self-destruction. I won’t let you do that to me anymore.”
“Please, you’re all I have left.”
——
“Simon, you’re hurting me.”
“You can’t leave me. I need you Johnny.”
“Simon please let me go.”
——
“You’re just like your father.”
“Take that back right fucking now.”
“You know it’s true. You can’t deny what’s in your DNA, Simon.”
——
“When I met you, I thought the rumors I heard were just exaggerations. That beneath that cold, calculated exterior there was a man worth something. Now I know they were all true.”
——
“You don’t feel anything, Simon! When is the last time you felt anything besides rage or numbness?”
“I don’t fucking know, Johnny. Why does this matter now?”
“When’s the last time you felt love. Love for me, Simon?”
“What?”
“I never pushed, never forced you to tell me you loved me. But even people who don’t say it at least act like it. You never cared for me. All you ever did was push me away and hurt me.”
——
“I love you, Johnny.”
“I love you too… but I shouldn’t have married you.”
“Johnny?” The voice pauses, the hand patting his chest, stilling where it’s resting on him. After a few seconds, it speaks.
“Yeah, Simon… It’s… It’s Johnny…”
A weak smile lights up on the lieutenant’s face, blood coating his teeth. “Missed you, love.”
“I’ve… I’ve missed you too, Simon.”
“Been so long since I’ve seen you. Where have you been?” His head felt fuzzy, his eyes not focusing on the figure leaning above him. He felt something hot running down his torso.
“I’ve been away, I’m sorry. I’ve got you now.”
“Always got me, Johnny. Always on my six.”
“That’s right…” The voice sounds choked up like they’re on the brim of tears.
“Don’t cry, Johnny.”
“I’m not, I’m okay. We’re okay."
They keep patting his chest, a rhythmic beat almost like they’re mimicking a heart.
The quiet crunch of broken concrete echoed in the silence; the only thing illuminating the dark tunnels was the dim service lights. A quick breeze filled the space as a train raced by, sending a gentle shiver down his spine. A bone-deep exhaustion rotted to his core, and silent tears slipped down his face. His back was pressed against cold stone, and his hands trembled in his lap.
“It's alright, I've got you.” There was a deep murmur from the man coming up behind him, heavy steps quiet despite his height. The man paused at the expression on his sergeant's face. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Johnny?”
Soap looked up and saw the stars shimmering above them. They appeared so close that he could grab them if he reached out.
“I’m tired, Simon.”
A bittersweet chuckle echoed behind him, warmth in the tone. He felt the man shifting, moving to sit beside him on the hard concrete. The sounds of gunshots echoed further down the tunnels. He could feel something warm trickling down the side of his head as he lay on the floor. “I know, but you have to stay awake.”
“Cannae sleep, never can anymore.”
The air was icy cold, chilling him down to his bones, but the warmth of Simon beside him helped calm the chill. He felt the man tense before moving closer, a large hand inching to lay over his. “Keep talking to me, Johnny.”
He heaved a heavy sigh and looked over at Simon, staring at the apparent exhaustion on the other's face. They were older, their hair growing more gray as the minutes passed. “Do you ever wonder what life could have been like if we hadn’t chosen this life?”
Simon was silent, staring at him with a cloudy expression. After a few moments, he spoke in a hushed whisper, “Sometimes, but then I never would have met you.”
“You don’t ever regret joining?”
“Never.” Simon’s voice was quiet but sure, his eyes boring into his fondly. “How could I regret something that brought you to me.” His hand gently moved to cup his face, stroking his cheek lovingly. Johnny leaned heavily into the tender connection, soaking in the other’s warmth greedily, like a moth to a flame. Simon kissed his forehead lovingly before laying his head on his.
“Get some rest, Johnny. It’s over now.” Simon mumbled gently, stroking a gentle hand across his forehead. Johnny looked at him, the stars in his eyes framing his figure and making him appear younger, softer. Johnny shut his eyes slowly, feeling lighter as he was pulled under, his body going limp.
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