PROLOGUE PT. I: A TALE OF TWO HEARTS

— I loved you in a time before I knew what love meant; I know now, and I love you still.

KIERAN CANNOT REMEMBER a time when he did not love the girl with the dusky eyes. He’s tried. He’s tried so hard, because perhaps if he could remember such a time, he could stop loving her now, as if he had never loved her at all. But, he despairs, as he pleads to invisible gods, how can he, when even his earliest recollection takes him back to memories of her?

He is three years old, sulking in his room with his arms crossed, grumpy because his nurse has forbidden him from playing outside in the heavy downpour. But Kieran is still a child, yet unburdened by the weight of too many secrets and obligations. So even though the sky is rumbling and dark as night, he wants nothing more than to splash in the puddles that are forming in the cobbled courtyard of the palace. He settles for pressing one small hand to the cool glass window, trying to trace the paths of different rivulets of water. One day, he’ll think back to this moment and envy the simplicity of his life before he cracked beneath the magnitude of love.

There is a noise outside his bedroom, and his mother, Hannele—Seochun’s bright-eyed queen, comes bursting through the doorway bearing an oversized bouquet of fresh flowers. “Darling!” She beams, and suddenly, Kieran doesn’t think the world is so dull and dreary after all. He holds his arms out and Hannele understands the gesture as intimately as any mother would. A handful of quick, elegant steps takes her to the oversized armchair her son is sitting in, and when she sweeps him into her arms with effortless grace, Kieran has never been so sure that his mother was an angel in another life.

Nestling himself into the crook of her neck, Kieran eyes the colorful blooms that somehow managed to remain uncrushed in Hannele’s arms. “Who are those for?” He asks curiously, doing his best to gently brush out the tangled leaves of one of the flowers.

“They’re for Miss Gracelyn and her new baby, Ki!” Excitement tinges his mother’s voice, and the young prince vaguely remembers his father’s most trusted advisor and her swollen stomach. At this, Kieran makes a face, for he doesn’t like babies much. The last one he’d seen had been his new baby brother, born three months ago with the name Ster-fry or something; no one had bothered to correct the misnomer, and it had stuck. His brother was a drooling mess, and Kieran hated drool. Besides, he also hated the hospital, where everything was too clean, too bright, too immaculate. But he has never been able to resist his mother. And so a reluctant Kieran allows himself to be carried towards the hospital wing of the palace.

Hannele pushes open the heavy wooden doors with that same easy grace from before, and upon entrance, Kieran immediately squints. He was right—it was too bright in these halls, and for a second, his world is blurry white. By the time he blinks the haze away, his mother is standing at the bedside of a cot where a woman of about thirty is lying, clutching a pink bundle in her arms. Ecstatic to see her friend, Hannele gently places Kieran on the floor and rushes forward with her offering of flowers.

More reserved, Kieran holds back, preferring to hide behind the skirt of his mother’s royal blue gown for almost fifteen minutes before his curiosity gets the better of him. He had been afraid to see spittle—stars knew how many cloths his new brother went through in a single day—but upon first glance, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that this baby is drool-free. Leaning in a little closer, he notices the moles sprinkled across her features, and though her eyes are closed, Kieran is already entranced. She has curls of brown blooming atop her head, and they look so much softer than Eliza’s wild tresses that he almost reaches out to touch the tuft of hair.

It’s then that she opens her eyes, and they shine such a brilliant umber that he thinks he can’t breathe. It’s a different brown than he’s ever seen before, velvet soft and yet, deep enough to hold a universe.

“What’s her name?” He asks Gracelyn with wide eyes. “She’s so pretty!”

The woman laughs quietly, “Gwyneira, but she’s to be called Gwen.”

“Hi, Gwen,” the little prince bends towards her like a flower to the sun, saying her name like it’s something sacred. She looks so fragile, so vulnerable in her mother’s arms, and even though he’s just met her, something akin to devotion courses through his veins like fire. “I’m Kieran. I’m going to be your protector.”

It has been twenty years since that day, and yet, the memory remains crystal clear. His heart has belonged to her from the moment they met.

When a red mark appears on his wrist when Kieran is ten years old bearing the initials of one Gwyneira Han, the crown prince is hardly surprised. He had loved Gwen before he understood what it meant to care for someone in that way. It was about time the mark proving it showed up.

                                                 Poetry And Love

Chester Cathedral, 2018.

types of kisses 

i. slow and drawn out kisses. where neither wants to let go. warm and passionate.

ii. goodbye kisses. the realisation and the look in the other’s eyes of letting go. tears running down cheeks and hands ghosting on cheeks.

iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours.

iv. spirit kisses. light and feathery over the face. small and quick. running out the door after.

v. sudden kisses. in the middle of a sentence. catching the other’s lips and pulling them into your arms.

vi. neck kisses. fluttering down necks to the collar bone. dusting over the breastbone and staying there. 

vii. nose kisses. a small peck. kind and sweet. an adoring look for the other in their eyes.

viii. frustrated kisses. knowing that one has to go. enveloping their arms around the other and holding foreheads together.

writing is simple. i put my characters into a situation that i, the author, cannot figure out how to get them out of and i close the document

Reblog this if it’s completely okay for me to tag you in tag games! :)

I’ve been here for a while (I guess) but I still need to get to know more writers!! Reblog this or let me know if it’s okay to tag you in writing games or regular games! I’ll take a look at your blog as well :)

hey hey guys so i'm looking for new mutuals, interact with this post if you:

sb if you can or want to!

CHARACTER FACIAL EXPRESSIONS (WRITING REFERENCE)

EYES/BROWS

NOSE

MOUTH

SKIN

WHOLE FACE, ETC.

SOURCE

a guide to writing shy characters + for writers

disclaimer: from a girl who spent the first twenty years of her life being extremely shy , and has now almost overcome it completely . so the girl got experience 

There is a difference between being shy, and being quiet. A shy person can be talkative, a quiet person is not.

Just because somebody is shy, does not mean they don’t like talking to people! They’re most of the time, simply just afraid of being judged. 

SHY PEOPLE ARE NOT WITHOUT PERSONALITIES! Shy people have wants, needs and feelings, and a personality that is much bigger than their shyness!  Just because they don’t talk much, doesn’t mean that you can’t give them a rich personality! They might be afraid to show the world who they really are, but that doesn’t mean that under the surface, there’s not a person! Shy people are still real people, even though they sometimes may convince themselves they’re not! 

Being QUIET is a personality trait. Being SHY is not. At least, it shouldn’t be normalized as one, or considered to be one. Most shy people have a desire to change their ways and engage more in the conversation. They are not happy with their current situation. A quiet person, is probably more content with their life, and doesn’t wish to be more talkative. 

Most shy people are capable of holding a proper conversation over the internet, but when they meet this person in real life, no matter how good friends and comfortable this shy person feels with them, the conversation will turn awkward, and they’ll be quiet, and not say much. 

Shy people actually has a lot to say, and a lot to contribute to the conversation. They’re just not sure how to say it out loud, thinking that their opinion doesn’t matter that much. 

A shy person does not have to be an introvert. They can be extroverts, because, again, one is an emotion, the other is a personality trait.

No one chooses to be shy. If they’re quiet ‘’by choice’’, they’re naturally quiet. There’s a fine line, but it’s there.

A shy person will try to contribute to the conversation, they want to talk, but they can’t. As a result, they’ll beat themselves up over it, thinking they’ve embarrassed themselves. 

Shy people are not push-overs. You might be able to make them an easy target, but the second that person gains some confidence and starts believing in themselves, trust be given, you’re not going to research them. 

And no, they don’t hate you. An old classmate of mine once asked me if I hated my class, because I never spoke a word to anyone. So here’s the thing, no, most shy people aren’t quiet because they hate everyone, or think they’re better than you. It’s the complete opposite, actually. 

There is always a reason as to why somebody is shy, and a lot of the times, it boils down to insecurities, bullying, thinking they’re not good enough… there’s a lot of reasons. 

… yearning

you know what I love? healthy communication.

two characters who loves each other endlessly, and resolves their issues by talking to each other. who respects each other enough to be honest with each other. who doesn't need to scream their lungs out at each other to get their point across.

a healthy relationship is not boring. if it's boring, it's a writing problem. it's not the relationship in itself that's boring, it's how the writer chooses to write it.

a healthy relationship, if written properly, can be just as intriguing to write about as a relationship between two enemies. a healthy relationship doesn't mean that there can't be angst, or that they can't argue. it just means that two people love each other endlessly, and will treat each other with respect no matter the obstacle they face.

GAME

reblog this and I’ll look at your blog and send you an ask of what superpower I think you’d have based on it. 

this is for authors who worry that your stories aren’t “big enough”, who don’t have a plots that spark rebellions or save the world, for contemporary writers who write about simply being: quiet stories sell. the publishing world wants to hear your small stories too.

Alina Morozova

a pain so lovely and true

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