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lunchmeater · 18 days

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AUGUST HONEY: CHAPTER ONE : STRANGERS - PREVIEW

Ghost x Reader -- Firefighter/Civilian AU -- Word Count 1.8k

Description: A dead-end artist, bookstore owner, and front woman in a band, from the outside everything looks like it’s coming together for you. But within, your life feels like it’s repeating the same day over and over again. You’re sleeping with your bass guitarist, you live in the apartment above your bookstore, and your art all looks the same. You miss the danger of youth, the thrill of freedom. You miss change.

And right when that feeling hits, right when you’re grasping for straws, a couple of the new local firefighters decide to go out for drinks.

TWs for Entire Fic: Depictions of unhealthy relationships (not with Ghost), mentions and depictions of alcoholism, smut

TWs for Chapter: Very small reference to alcoholism

AN: I'm very new to Tumblr y'all please excuse the horrendous formatting

Seven in the afternoon. Time to close up. With a satisfying click of the shop's front door locking, you rubbed the back of your neck, turning your head slightly to the side to see the scenery outside.

You've owned this shop for so long that the view from the window was more familiar than the layout of the lines of your palm. Your attention traced the road first, noting the way the concrete was still wet from the early morning rain. The sidewalks were a shade darker for the same reason and covered in the muddy footprints of passersby. Windows from other shops and buildings stood tall, some of the buildings they belonged to were twice as tall as your own. Then your eyes traveled along the rolling mountains in the background behind the buildings and the still-lit houses lolling up and down its curves. This was a small city.

The sun was beginning its journey behind the distant mountains. It's beams were reaching hands across that of the thresh hold of your little bookstore, stroking the hardwood floors and illuminating them golden. Following the line of the sunlight, your eyes landed on your dog, a Rhodesian Ridge-Back named Sylvie. Despite being a big-game hunting breed, she was beyond lazy and sleeping soundly in the light of the sun.

God. You wished it was normal for humans to do that too.

It was warm in here, beginning to get quite cold out there. Your head turned back to the window and saw the clouds that were rolling in from the West. Likely more rain. Maybe there would be a nice thunderstorm tonight, or maybe even some snow.

The entire day you were waiting for this. Just being alone in the place. The place creaked with age, the floorboards despite having been replaced since the buying of the home whining as you stepped on them. You reached your record player sitting in the corner of the room on its own personal table, surrounded by shelves you built yourself. They held numerous vinyl records that you collected yourself over the course of the years, ever since you were thirteen.

The sleeves, despite their various colors, were painted with a gold glaze in the light of the evening sun. Your finger traced each individual spine, feeling the grooves in between the sleeves of the records, before you finally landed on one titled Pink Magic.

You grabbed it, slipping it out from in between Citrona and Subliming. The cover held a gradient that eased from pastel pink on the right to pastel blue on the left. In the center stood a man holding a disco ball covered in paint in front of his face. It was an album you bought on a whim and hadn't heard in a while, so you put it on. Easing the needle down onto the grooves of the record disc where you knew the specific song was nearly by muscle memory. You read the lines on the record like a language few understood.

The song started, fading into earshot before a guitar part layered over the tones. Then a drum beat and bass guitar came in afterwards, then finally the lyrics.

"Picture this, a swing and a miss."

You interlocked your fingers together and stretched upwards, slightly arching your back in the motion and leaning back before letting out a long sigh and turning to check all of the tables in the entrance area. The welcome mat was muddy and could use washing, the tables had coasters, drops of various drinks, and crumbs scattering their surfaces. A quick turn and a glance into the reading areas on the other side of the shop, connected by a large arch doorway, showed the large area was in only a small amount of disarray. Books, the order of which you had memorized, were out of place, some abandoned on the tables near the windows. The rug was wrinkled, and there was some mud tracked on the floors, but nothing major.

"Never exchanging a name."

When you turned around, you noticed your head was starting to hurt from the stress of the day. Saturdays were always crowded with not only the typical adult customers but also lovesick rowdy teenagers looking for a cup of coffee and loud conversation with one another in the large table by the window.

You opened your eyes after rubbing your temple with your fingers and jumped near six inches off of the ground when a figure was seen standing close to the window.

He laughed immediately, his hand in the pockets of his black slacks and a tux jacket slung over his shoulder. The hand removed itself from the place in your old friend's pocket to wave and you relaxed, slightly annoyed by his sudden appearance. A white dress shirt covered his torso loosely, unbuttoned far in the front showing the floral tattoo covering his collarbone. From a mixture of White and Hispanic heritage, as you knew, he had tan skin with dark, long hair that swung around in curls and waves. He had dark brown eyes with thick brows and an unshaven five o'clock shadow. Upon his face was a smile. His name was Bailey.

"Infatuated, I contemplated your lips."

You walked over to the front door and opened it, to which you discovered him standing in front of you. Your friend from high school, your ex boyfriend, and your bassist. Couldn't say you weren't expecting him, you just weren't thinking right. You wouldn't have locked the door behind him if you were.

"But my infatuation was strange."

He smiled a little wider and you frowned.

"Don't do that," you said bluntly. "Scared the shit out of me."

Bailey laughed. "Sorry."

"Black, purple and cream."

You invited him in silently by stepping aside and opening the door; he stepped inside willingly. Curt, and with the intention of both teasing and genuine thanks, he nodded his head silently. His black boots, as you saw, made muffled footsteps as his well-used footwear made contact with the welcome mat. Bailey wiped his feet, shifting the mat with the movement, and didn't need to reach far to hang his coat on the rack.

Your eyes followed the way his shoulder blades pressed against the cloth of his white dress shirt and you averted your eyes, feeling your chest swell gently knowing what was likely coming tonight.

Suddenly noticing a rising ache of stiffness in your shoulders from standing and trying to play off the staring in case Bailey noticed, you shifted, brushing aside the drifting cloth of your over-sized lavender dress shirt and placing your hands in your cream khaki pockets.

"These are the colors of your nightmares, and colors of my dreams."

"Fizzy Blood?" Bailey asked in reference to the song playing on the record player. He huffed a laugh. "I forgot about them."

"Me too," you responded, walking briskly past him to get to the counter and fetch the hand towel you used to wipe down tables. You noticed the table to your left, a table for two occupied earlier by a particularly noisy tween couple that met briskly before departing. Despite them being rather annoying upon presence, the thought of them was sweet. Reminding you of you and Bailey in high school sneaking out to see movies and get garbage gas station food.

In fact, this song played once or twice during those adventures, pushing you into a sudden state of nostalgia.

The song was moving into the chorus as Bailey leaned against the corner of the counter and watched you wipe down the table. His steady hands, painted with tattoos of vines dancing around his fingers that moved with him, was planted sternly on the side of the counter. You knew how rough his fingertips were from pressing down thick strings and how easily they drew ink freehand sketches of various animals, mostly foxes.

"So what's the set for tonight?" he asked. His voice, tainted raw and gravely with cigarette smoke, always reminded you of his hard history. He moved out of his mom's house recently, improving his mental state, but he still had yet to overcome his nasty habit of smoking and drinking.

You shrugged in response. "Haven't thought of anything yet. Busy day."

"Need suggestions?"

"Yeah."

"Well with it being Friday night and all, the bar's going to be packed," Bailey responded, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting the bulk of his weight from his hands to his waist which pressed into the corner of the counter as became more relaxed. He was always relaxed, smooth, and always wickedly smart. "I suggest Reignwolf."

Not a bad idea. Not too heavy, not too slow.

"Alright," you responded, finishing up with the table and briefly looking over all of the others. They were clean enough. You'd get whatever you missed eventually. "Your bass is still in my room. Get my guitar while you're at it; I'll get the amps."

Bailey smiled before removing himself from the counter and crossing the threshold of the counter, his strides so smooth and even his head barely bobbed from the distribution of weight as he walked. The footsteps created from the click of his shoes against the ground faded as he went further up the stairs.

You sighed as you watched him walk away and the shop faded back into quiet. You heard the sound of Bailey opening your bedroom door before the silence returned again like a wave that had faded off into sea and slammed back onto the sand. The sound of your dog Sylvie's breathing returning into the ambiance; she wasn't even affected by the entrance of Bailey.

Your eyes landed on the honey brown dog laying on the floor and you dropped briefly to stroke her flank and scratch behind her ears. She was snoring loudly, her eyes doing that gross scent-hound thing where the lids flipped and she slept with, essentially, her eyes open.

Not the weirdest dog you've ever owned, but certainly up there.

You moved back to your feet and crossed your arms, thinking. End of the day at the shop, then packing up instrument stuff, then going to the bar and performing, then back home again. Wake up and repeat. Day after day, week after week.

Until what? What was waiting for you? What was going to happen?

You leaned against the counter and stared out the window with your arms crossed, when your eyes landed on a figure on the other side of the street that stared back.

Tall, extremely tall. Easily six foot or more. Broad shoulders and a neck gaiter with a skull on it that covered his face from the nose down. Blond hair peaked out from underneath the hood of the black hoodie he had on with the fire department emblem on the breast. Jeans covered his long legs and a leash hung from his arm, connecting to a German Shepherd that seemed really intent on continuing his walk.

Your shoulders dropped when your eyes met, but it only lasted a second before he turned his head and continued walking, but you kept staring as he walked away. How long had he been standing there?

You cocked a brow, confused, before discarding the thought and turning around to see what was taking Bailey so long.

Inspired by the Firefighter!Ghost AU by @thelaisydazy

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod fic #firefighter au cod #cod au #x reader #fem reader #realistic fiction #fanfic

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pluralprompts · 14 days

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Prompt #1,562

When System A moves into a new house and finds a dusty, old book in their attic, they're not surprised to find it belongs to a previous owner of the house from many decades ago. But finding recorded conversations between headmates, speculations on why no one else seems to have "[...] as many souls as I do.", and journal entries about the owner's system? Well, that was certainly a surprise!

#plural system #pluralgang #plurality #pluralprompt #prompt blog #prompt #journal/diary #any tone #realistic fiction #moving

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adiaryofnonsense · 7 months

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I DnDed them

Here it is! My entire for @sawah-draws��s art challenge l. These characters are from the fantastic webcomic “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” please go read it on tapas or webtoon it’s a realistic fiction love story but I really wanted to see them as DnD characters I hope you like it!

#Sawah draws #Jon and Alex #it’s kind of a funny story #webcomic #webtoon #books #fantasy #relationship #realistic fiction #drwaing #art #artwork #artists on tumblr #my art #digital art #art style #draw it in your style

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andreai04 · 3 months

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There are thousands of ways to die in Beartown. Especially on the inside.

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t-thathandsomedevil · 7 months

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~Her~ || Mattheo R. x fem! Reader

Author note! <33 I hope you like it, I worked on it at flipping school so Its fluff only. I always accept corrective criticism, spelling correction, grammar correction, and requests. Im sorry this is so bad and cringy btw. -A/N❤

1,492 words 7,983 characters

You listened silently to the conversation the other girls at the lunch table were having, feeling awkward at the prospect you didn’t know any of them. “Oh my god I love him so much” a girl with short brown hair and friendly makeup gushed, pointing to a boy at the table across from the one you were sitting at. You turned your head slightly, enough to be able to see who she was pointing at but not enough to be noticed. The boy she was pointing at had curly black hair, brown eyes and light skin and was grinning and talking to a friend. Mattheo Riddle. — “Let's play truth or dare!” Lorenzo said excitedly “I need a new story to post on buzzfeed.” Theodore rolled his eyes and smirked at Enzo “I should’ve guessed. But okay because I am boooorrrrrddddd af” “Okay” Mattheo said, eying the pretty girl in a hoodie with H/L H/C hair sitting quietly and alone, like she always does. “I wanna play and I wanna go first.” Draco said flatly, slicking back his platinum blonde hair. “I want to play as well, like I have to catch up on all my friend’s drama” Blaise said casually while eating his hamburger. “Truth or Dare is my fav game so yes!” Pansy gushed “Okaayy Theodore Nott. truth of dare” Draco asked “Truth.” “Is it true you…. Are dating Enzo?” “Yea.” “Okay…. Enzo truth or dare?” Theo asked, smirking at his boyfriend. “Dare” “I dare you to kiss me right now” Lorenzo rolled his eyes but smiled and leaned in and gave Theodore a soft but long kiss. “You guys are such a cute couple” Pansy noted, smiling wide “ANYWaayy, my turn because Enzo is kissing Theo.” Blaise said.

“no, I’m still going” Lorenzo huffed, shoving Blaise softly. “Mattheo truth or dare?” “Dare” “I dare you to kiss your crush” “Wtf bro I don’t a crush” “Don’t lie I saw you staring at Y/N” “Oooooooohh” Pansy squealed “Someone has a cruuuushhh” Mattheo blushed and scowled “Fine I do like her buuut she don’t know who tf I am” “Don’t make excuses.” — The lunch bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period and you were the first to get up. You hated the cafeteria. It was loud, food was flying everywhere, but most of all, you had to sit with people you didn’t know and who had friends and you just sat there yourself. You looked over your shoulder at Mattheo. The girl from earlier was there. Her short brown bob bouncing as she spoke. As you watched her talk to Mattheo, you felt a twinge of jealousy. Why do I feel jealous?? — “I’m Joyce,” A girl with short hair that bounced annoyingly. “Yea hi Joyce what do you want?” Mattheo asked, trying not to sound irritated. He absolutely hated when girls talked to him randomly and flirted with him and asked for his number and tried to use pick-up lines that stunk worse than public bathrooms. “I like your…. Eyes” She gushed Ew “Yea yea I like your um shirt” Mattheo said curtly “Is that all? Because I have to get to class” “Oh yea” Joyce said sweetly “I have to go to class too. Why don’t we go together?” Mattheo rolled his eyes “What class do you have?” “I have orchestra!” “Well, I have ELA and the orchestra room is downstairs right down this hall.” Stupid…. Joyce blushed “O-oh okay. See you later, then” She winked and gave Mattheo what she thought was a winning smile. Well f I’m late now… — You carefully wrote your name at the top of your page. At least I’m a good student… even though nobody likes me. You thought, pushing the page to the corner of your desk. “We’ll be working as partners” no…… “You can choose your groups, I’m sure your capable” Oh my god no

Everyone buzzed with excitement and found groups with their friends, leaving only you. The door opened and a boy stumbled in, panting. “I’m sorry I was late sir” he said “A girl named Jane was bugging me.” “Okay, I don’t need your excuses,” The teacher surveyed the room “Go work with Y/N.” You flushed and looked away. I have to work with MATTHEO! “Okaayy” Mattheo said, giving you a ravishing grin. “Hey princess” he said when he planted himself in the seat beside you You scowled “I’m not a princess.” “I’m sure you aren’t. What do we need to do?” “You’d know if you came to class on time and not 20 minutes late.” Mattheo laughed, “A girl named James was bugging me.” “You said Jane” “Well something like that.” You rolled your eyes. “We have to write a book report.” “Nooooooooo” Mattheo whined “I hatteeeee book repoorrtts” “You sound like a child” You said, looking at Mattheo coldly. “Okay finee,” he straightened “What book?” “What did you read?” If anything, Mattheo grinned “I read The Lord of The Rings” You rolled your eyes “What happened?” “Umm… I actually read Wattpad fanfic…” “I figured as much” You said, smiling a little “What happened?” As Mattheo retold the story, you looked over his face. He’s actually kinda pretty…. Wtf!? “You good? You look like you spaced out for a sec,” Mattheo said, smirking “W-what, oh sorry, so um yea what continue” “I already finished,” “Oh okay you can write it down, then.” What is wrong with me?? Mattheo’s hand brushed up against yours as he took the pencil from your hand. You felt your face heat up and you bit your lip. “Do you want to go to the library with me during our free period?” Mattheo asked while writing down the book report horribly. “Why?” You demanded “Because I see you sitting alone during lunch and during your free period.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he only smiled and set down the pencil “See you later, then?” and stood up to leave. You felt slightly disappointed as you watched him leave, but you shook off the feeling and picked up the book report he left. — “How’d it go?” Enzo asked, smirking at Mattheo. “It went amazing.” Mattheo grinned “I asked her if she wanted to meet me at the library during free period. She looked like she liked the idea.”

“you better make the most romantic scene bro. I want tea and I want a nice movie to watch” Theodore said, tossing Mattheo a cigarette. “And I want something to post on Buzzfeed.” Lorenzo said “and Theo you can’t have cigarettes.” “Ugh” Theodore reluctantly handed Lorenzo his box “You too, Mattheo” — You skipped your 4 period class to get ready. Something you swore never to do. You curled your H/C H/L hair and stuck a small flower behind your ear. You sighed “What happened to me?” You curled your lashes, and applied a light layer of blush. The bell finally rang and you felt excitement rise in your body, but you battled it down and put on a straight face. When you got there, you found Mattheo already sitting on a beanbag chair, he had a black Nirvana t-shirt and black cargo pants. “You look nice,” He said “How did you get that all done?” You had a black tank top with a nice necklace and faded blue jeans. “I skipped my 4th period class. It was gym, anyway.” Mattheo laughed “I pretended to be sick and ‘went to the nurse’” “You are such a bad student!” you said, smiling down at the ground as you sat in the beanbag chair next to Mattheo. “And you are a wonderful student,” he winked, “That’s why I like you.” You blushed “Shut up, Riddle” “Okay Y/L/N” “Can I ask you something?” Mattheo asked “Sure, what is it?” “I- this was a dare, but I really do like you,” “I expected as much. Who gave you the dare?” “Lorenzo Berkshire.” Mattheo blushed and looked down “C-can I kiss you?” “Part of the dare?” You asked, unable to keep the hurt from your voice “No- yes, but the dare was to kiss my crush..” Mattheo said, not looking at you. “Please don’t hate me…” You sighed “I don’t hate you, Mattheo. Why do you think I skipped a class to do my makeup?” Mattheo smiled “So can I kiss you?” “Yes” Mattheo pressed his lips onto yours. He tasted like cigarettes, mint gum, and strawberry shortcake, as odd as that sounds. His hand traveled up your back and his other hand went to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. “I love you so much, Y/N…” He mumbled in between kisses. “I love you too…”

— “Best movie ever actually” Theodore whispered to Lorenzo “This is gonna get so many views,” Lorenzo whispered back, typing furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna tease him for this for eternity” Draco whispered, smirking “Your meeeeean” Pansy whispered, her lips pouting “They’re adorable!”

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pinto-bean-writes · 21 days

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Welcome Y'all :)

My name is Pinto! Some of you may know me as @sydaney-foxay, my personal blog! I'm a silly little author, I usually write original works in the genres of Dark Fantasy and Realistic FIction with hints of fluffy-angsty Romance sprinkled within! Though I do occassionally write Fanfiction and do take requests, but more on that later on!

Name: Pinto Bean Age: Minor Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Heteromantic & Ace Socials: Wattpad, AO3, Neobook Race/Ethnicity: Half Filipino, Half British Religion: Catholic ✝

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Any type of hate, racism, homophobia, transphobia, body shaming, abelism ect, are PROHIBITED and will NOT BE TOLERATED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ No NSFW/Explicit asks or images/videos in the Ask or Submissions box. They will immediately be DELETED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anybody younger than 13 reading/engaging with this blog WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. (Mutuals are an exception to this rule.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Any asks or submissions about politics are PROHIBITED and will be DELETED.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People older than 30 reading/engaging with this blog WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. (Family members, mutuals, and people granted personal permission are an exception to this rule.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ If any work is marked "16+" please do take it upon yourself to make a responsible decision on wether to consume the piece of media or not.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ All trigger warnings will be mentioned, please do read those first and mind then when reading through a piece.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anyone younger than 13. (Mutuals and family members are exempt from this rule)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Anyone older than 30. (Mutuals and family members are exempt from this rule)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ AI Art supporters.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Proshippers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Homophobic, transphobic and fatphobic individuals.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who have public ownership of explicit/18+ media blogs.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ This silly shart sniffer /silly

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who showcase harmful/toxic behaviors and excuse it with religion (I.E: Toxic Christians, toxic Catholics)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Bots.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ People who spread religious hate.

If any of these describe you I highly suggest getting off my blog and to not interact with it.

..............................Fanfiction............................

As I mentioned before, I do take requests! Now I do wanna start this off by saying:

I consider myself an ORIGINAL AUTHOR. I mostly write ORIGINAL WORKS. Though those take quite a long time to come out and sometimes I want to write but not focus on larger, original projects- so I take REQUESTS and write MY OWN fanfictions, but those are LOW on the priority list. I spend the majority of my time writing WORKING ON ORIGINAL WORK, so I do want to say FANFICTION REQUESTS MAY TAKE A WHILE TO GET SENT OUT. Due to this, I want to thank you all in advance for your patience and support!

Now; onto the fun stuff!

Fanfiction requests will usually take about 1 week to come out, due to my focus on original work and the fact my writing is usually very long and detailed. I write for a plethora of fandoms and even though fanfiction is not my main focus, I try to put as much love and care into my fanfics as I do my original work!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Hazbin Hotel 🔥

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Helluva Boss 👿

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Cuphead 🥤

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Camp Camp 🌲

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The Ghost and Molly McGee 👻

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Miss Peregrines Peculiar Children 🐣 (I have read all 6 books + watched the movie)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Stardew Valley 👩‍🌾

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sexy Brutale 🛌

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Court x Mort Saga 📚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I DO WRITE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Character x Character ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Platonic Character x Character ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Platonic Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sibling Character x Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sick comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Period/Menstruation comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sibling comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Headcanons ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate timelines ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate universes ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Alternate situations ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Hurt comfort ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ MILDLY suggestive fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I DON'T WRITE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sexually explicit NSFW (OF ANY AGES) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Incest ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Pedophelia ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Underage use of drugs and alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SA scenes ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The brutal murder of children ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suicide ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Zoophilia

Side note:

My boundaries when writing fanfiction will not always align with my boundaries when writing original fiction. I want to respect the original piece of media and the creatives behind it- so I refrain from writing anything particularly heavy, intense, or mature that has not happened in the original piece or anything incredibly off-canon. I also know the large majority of those who read/request fanfiction are minors, and I want to be able to give them a place to read lots of fics without worrying about coming across anything particularly disturbing. Though with my original work, do expect much heavier topics to be referenced.

..........................Original Fiction........................

As I've stated before, I am an original author and I do plan on sharing my work here on this blog among other socials! My original work will usually take longer to release than fanfictions, so feel free to pop in aks about characters, plots, and things revealed through spoiler posts! The genres I write in are usually dark fantasy, realistic fiction, dark humor (if that counts), psychological thriller, psychological horror, dystopia, dark romance, and political fiction.

My original work may contain these things/topics: (Of course specialized Trigger Warnings will be placed on each piece according to the content of the writing)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Swearing ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Mental/Emotional/Physical Neglect ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Generally traumatic events ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Intense descriptions of blood, gore, and violence ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The use of drugs and alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Underage use of alcohol ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Toxic romantic relationships ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ The mentions of sexual harassment/assault (The actual acts of assault are never described or written out. Only suggested.) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Cults/Cult-like organizations ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Death ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Violence ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Vomiting ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ MILDLY suggestiveness (MILD, meaning all characters are fully clothed, and there is never sexually intimate touching) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Vulnerable character (I.E: being drunk) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Child death ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Human cruelty ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ References made to specific types of drugs, alcohols, weapons, ect,

Another reminder:

All pieces of writing will have specific trigger warnings placed on them depending on the content of the piece. Not all of my original works will contain these specific topics if any at all- please read trigger warnings before consuming.

.......................Socials...................... ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Wattpad ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ AO3 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Neobook

Thank Ya'll :)

...to everyone who read through this and I do hope you stick around and follow to see what crazy shit I can whip up for y'all with nothing more than a Google Document and an ink cartridge filled with dreams!

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future-journalist-adventures · 12 days

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Inside my Head - A Collection of Short Stories

"Silent"

experience or daydream: experience

characters: me, "my friend" (🌘), classmates, substitute teacher

setting: mid-April; Friday afternoon; high school

content warnings: queerphobia

Vibrant colors danced through the hallway as a content smile spread across my face. The bassline of the upbeat music I blasted through my headphones vibrated in every inch of my body as I absentmindedly walked to the beat; the muffled sounds of other kids talking and laughing could be heard beneath the sound of the music. I watched as my friend and I walked in sync, resisting the urge to comment on it. I glanced over at the large black pin my friend was sporting, with the LGBTQ+ flag in the middle and the words “Silence is Loud” printed across it, before carefully adjusting my own matching pin. He flashed me a small smile, which I returned almost instinctively as we walked side-by-side into our biology classroom.

I turned off my music, taking my headphones off of my head and setting them down on my neck. My friend and I began to cross the room to put our things down at our seats, only to find something that would wipe the smiles right off of both of our faces.

My heart seemed to stop for a moment. My stomach dropped, and the content feeling I once possessed had somehow vanished. I gaped breathlessly, watching as my classmates passed around a crumpled flyer with the same design as our pins, laughing at and mocking it.

One of them glanced at my friend and I’s pins, going quiet for a moment before scoffing and smirking, holding out the flyer for both of us to see.

“So-” he began, still laughing, “are you guys really not allowed to talk?”

My friend and I exchanged nervous glances before slipping past them wordlessly.

My attempts to calm myself down, and to hide how much I was shaking now, were quickly failing. I shot the substitute teacher a desperate glance only to find that she hadn’t looked up from her desk at all. Sitting down at my desk, I replayed the scene in my head and watched as the kids continued their insensitive mockery.

As I finally began to calm myself down, I heard the sound of something hitting the floor, followed by an eruption of laughter. My head snapped up to see the flyer, now completely rolled into a ball, laying on the floor next to my friend’s desk. They quickly snatched it from the ground and stuffed it in their bag. Their head was turned away from me so I couldn’t see his face, but somehow I felt I knew exactly what they were thinking.

40 minutes later, the last bell of the day rang, signaling the end of our day of silence. But as I walked with my friend out of the room, across the hall, and up the stairs, we stayed silent: not because we had to, but because there was nothing left to say.

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luxi-storyteller · 10 hours

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Can Dilynn resist Alex’s smooth lines and abs? Find out in Paramour Promise on June 12th!

#ao3 writer #original content #non binary character #queer community #queer fiction #found family #realistic fiction #new release

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arrowmoose · 1 month

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The Fall Prologue

The prologue for my WIP story. All constructive criticism and analysis is encouraged!

**TW: Blood, fighting, explicit details**

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BATTERED and broken Charlie Matthews laid pinned beneath me on the cold, dirty linoleum of the soulless school hallway. The warm splotches of my crimson blood became indistinguishable from his as it stained our once intemerate clothes. I gripped his hunter green bomber, my abraded knuckles stinging as they rubbed against the rough fabric. Blood from my swollen nose dripped onto his beaten face, and his blonde hair plastered to his forehead in a sweaty, ensanguined glue. He was conscious still, and his trembling hands gripped my vises around his collar. I was tired of it——the lies, the rumors, the ambiguity; tired of all the bullshit. I was tired of him.

“Please, please Walsh…” he begged, his words garbled in between pitiful gasps. At one point he puffed, and a small splatter of red painted my jaw. As soon as it happened he realized his mistake, and a mounting terror filled his imploringly blue eyes. I raised my fist.

“No—No, please… I didn’t do it… Please!” Charlie pleaded, desperation echoing down the empty halls. He raised a shaky left hand in front of himself, and the nails on his right hand pierced through my skin as he grasped on tightly. I gritted my bloodstained teeth. The erupting flame in my chest burned up my throat like bile, and I felt an ecstatic buzz throughout my entire body. I was sick of him. Sick of everything that happened. Sick of me. And I was sick of those eyes.

Empathy in the blue, even after everything I had done.

Why was that there? He didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t allowed to have that.

I struck my sore fist across his cheekbone, and his cries only got louder as I did it again.

And again.

I felt an unnerving crack at one point, but whether it was his bruised nose or my raw knuckles I couldn’t tell. A haunting cacophony of pathetic sobs and pleas rang out with every hit I landed.

And yet, he still claimed his innocence.

I ceased my beatings and stared down at him. He laid withdrawn from me on his side, cradling his marred head. Muffled weeps raked his shuddering body as I stood and stepped over him. I looked away from him curled up on the filthy floors of the high school hallway; a crumpled heap of rout.

Like for a pitiable creature hit by a car, I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of guilt for what I had wrought upon miserable Charlie Matthews. But I couldn’t forgive him. I never would——not after what he had done.

Not after he killed my sister.

#Writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #wip #prologue #my writing #original story #story #my story #arrowmoose #realistic fiction #fiction #fiction writing #enemies to lovers

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redd956 · 9 months

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Creative Nonfiction vs. Realism Fiction

Yes, yes, there is a major difference. In fact they are two distinct genres of writing with very different challenges and approaches unique to one another.

Realism (Realistic) Fiction

Realism Fiction is a fictional piece/story depicting itself in the real world without major fantasy elements. The characters often are human, the location is primarily Earth, and settings can (but don't always need to reflect) reflect a recent time period that the author is familiar with.

The narrative tends to follow characters created by the author to appeal to real-life standards, but not be actually existing people themselves. Most realism fiction strives to capture the real world, everyday life, and often societal problems, or pull closely from the author's real life experiences to tell a story.

Examples:

The Catcher in the Rye

Of Mice and Men

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

To Kill A Mocking Bird

The Fault In Our Stars

Wonder

The Outsiders

Out of My Mind

Creative Nonfiction

Creative nonfiction are pieces and stories depicting real events most often from the author's perspective and style. Similar to realism fiction everything takes place in the real world, but instead each event is in relation to a real life moment. The author is working to capture life and the experience of living in order to tell a story. It could be exposing societal problems, trying to get a laugh, or explain a point the author is trying to make.

The characters tend to be existing people, or seemingly existing people. Personal voice plays a major role in the narration of creative nonfiction, and events described can be incredibly personal.

Creative nonfiction isn't always the author recounting memories or events of their own. They can also be recounting the tales of other people, depicting a current moment in real time, philosophizing, exploring a societal issue, twisting a bad event into a comedic one, turning simple living experiences into intriguing stories, or even well just churning out sheets and sheets of complaints.

Examples:

Night

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Hiroshima

A Room of One's Own

The Fire Next Time

The Communist Manifesto

Some Notable Challenges

Authors are more limited in writing creative nonfiction as very little room is left open to make things up

Suspension of disbelief can be much more difficult to quell in realistic fiction, and author must pertain to realistic standards of life

As many creative nonfiction writers joke, it can be hard to write without pissing off those acquainted with the author IRL, as seen in memes about memoirs

Depicting someone realistically in realism fiction who doesn't match the author in demographic can be a challenge in on it's own, requiring a lot more research to go into realistic fiction.

#creative nonfiction writing #writing #creative nonfiction #realism fiction #realistic fiction #writing nonfiction #writing fiction

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haveyoureadthismgyabook · 1 month

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Series info:

Book 1 of Gallagher Girls

Book 2: Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy

Book 3: Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover

Book 4: Only the Good Spy Young

Book 5: Out of Sight, Out of Time

Book 6: United We Spy

#books #ya #realistic fiction #i'd tell you i love you but then i'd have to kill you #gallagher girls #ally carter #poll

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kogetaikid · 3 days

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Yahaira’s story.

(TW! Suicide/Overall Just disturbing)

A preview for a small, bittersweet story called "I Love my sister". I might make some small animations/drawings of it. Here's a WIP.

Reblogs are appreciated, but do not tag as a vent.

Me and my sister are inseparable.

We were both troublemakers and love making pranks, but I’d always take the blame for her. She was really slim and athletic. I envy her for that. I’m a little fat and find it hard to catch up with her. She says i have a big imagination to make up for it, but it’s not really that impressive to me anymore. However, I’d be on top of the world if anyone besides my sister complemented me. I have quite a few friends, and a cousin named Darla, but when I can’t play with them, I have my sister! She loves foreign language and I love outer space and psychology.

Lately, my parents got divorced, and she grew distant from me. I don’t know why.

She isn’t the same though, I still miss my sister. Something just feels so broken. My friend is an only child and he said he’s grateful he is. I don’t think I would be though…

My sister started to stop ignoring me when i confronted her about it. I can’t believe i had the guts to do that!

We start hanging out again, but something’s off. She keeps talking to me about suicide and it’s making me really sad and scared. I don’t know what to do. I love my sister.

She’s giving me nightmares. I don’t want my sister to be gone.

...

My dad sent my sister to a psych ward. I haven’t seen her in months, but my parents say she’ll be back on time for my tenth birthday!

...

April, 22 20**

...

It’s finally my tenth birthday!

…

But my sister isn’t back…and none of my friends could make it…It was the worst birthday ever…I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much…I MISS YOU, MELODY!!!!

I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅS̴̺̼̾I̵̜̿̇͒͘͝S̴͔͎̼̭̔̍̓̌͌̿̊̊̕T̶̠̝͇̿͆̓̋́͝͝͠E̶̢̝̯̲̳̗̞̋̐͂̆͜R̵͙̓̓̃̏͘͘̚I̷͖̝͓̓͒̎̈̊͊̒ ̴̛̜͚̘̱͗͂̽̉̈́Ĺ̶̖̝͉͚͚̞̱̠̍̌̓̒̏̆͆̌̚Ö̴̧̡̮̠̫̭̬́̔͌̐͘͜͝V̴̭͕͍͈̳͓̤͓͛͂̊̀͑̋ͅE̸̞̱̠̐͊͑̓̀̽́̑̔̕ ̷̯̳̪̜̬̜́́̎͂̉̈́͒́̕M̵̡̯̬͉͐̎̉̊̕͘̕͘͠Ÿ̴̩̘̖́̍̄͑̍ ̶̡͇͈̫̱̈́ͅ

9:00 pm

...

I feel so distraught……………..i wish this day…………………..didn’t exist…….

...

I go to bed and cry myself to sleep.

...

10:37 pm

...

*It’s been a good half hour since I’ve fell asleep. I start to dream…*

...

April 22, 20**. 10:38 pm

...

I’m a newborn. My new name: *****

???

I don’t remember anything. I’m almost ** now, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of this puzzle. So many things have happened these years!!! I want to wake up so badly, but I can’t help but think, there’s something I need to do here first before I wake up Yahaira.

...

I’ve created my own universe: Epic Club. I’ve made a promise WAY before I became aware that I was dreaming. My promise was that I can’t die until I finish Epic Club. Epic Club is both a DREAM and LIFE project for me. Only after it has been thoroughly finish shall I be able to wake up.

…

That will honestly take years, but I somehow don’t mind. Something I will make sure no one forgets though is this:

I LOVE MY SISTER.

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pluralprompts · 14 days

Text

Prompt #1,560

Write about a headmate struggling to find an icon for themself!

#plural system #pluralgang #plurality #pluralprompt #prompt blog #prompt #any tone #realistic fiction

7 notes · View notes

anxiety-banana · 6 months

Text

Tips on Writing Realistic/Contemporary Fiction

Some of us are high fantasy people. Some dystopian, or self-help, or sci-fi. These are all such amazing genres with all their own techniques and tips and intricacies, many of which I could attempt to council you on, but above all I am best at realistic fiction.

Personally, I'm a realistic fiction girly. I love it, I eat it up in writing, in reading, in watching on TV and fantasizing when I'm going to sleep. Despite it being considered "basic," it can come with a lot of hardships and I'm here to council you on a few of them.

Problem:

It's boring to read and write; I can't find realistic and simultaneously interesting plot points.

Possible Solutions:

Unfortunately, boring comes in the description of writing realistic fiction. It's easy to get bogged down. The best tip I can give you is to emphasize boring things. Some people find joy in helping others, or can't get out of bed in the morning, or love learning or hate learning or don't know how to change the oil in their car even though their dad has taught them how six times. Finding realistic points about life and emphasizing them to a point of interest makes reasonable subplots, and plots.

Another good point is to discover your characters before you feel like you've discovered your story. Don't be afraid to let your characters evolve, change things about them until they feel right, and then worry about putting together a fully fledged plot. Knowing your characters will help you better know where you want your story to go, what is difficult for your characters to accomplish, and the kinds of problems will arise in their lives.

Problem:

My characters don't have enough at stake to accomplish the plot.

Possible Solutions:

Again with the "boring" situation. When your characters don't have the motivations to move along the plot, the obvious answer is often the best: give them better motives. It probably won't be life threatening like fantasy or sci-fi, but if you find out what motivates your character in life, you can figure out their motives in specific situations. If they're relationship oriented, make them have to choose between family and friends. If they value education, make them fail. If they need to always serve others, take that ability away from them (finances, injury, obligation etc.). If they're especially anxious, put them in situations where they have to chose between multiple anxious options. Embarrass them, hurt them, make them chose. The stakes can still be high, and it can often make your readers feel more attached to the characters, because they have more down to earth, relatable problems.

Problem:

My idea probably isn't marketable.

Possible Solutions:

Personally, screw marketability and write it anyway, but there is some practical advice to this.

First, if it's realistic/contemporary fiction, is has interesting plot points, developed writing, and good characters, it's probably marketable. The NYT Bestseller list is filled with realistic fiction, and it's a rather consumable genre. You don't need a six book series to be noticed, the books are typically shorter, they don't have to have some eye-catching brand new plot that's never been seen before, and cliches are not only accepted, but encouraged.

If you're genuinely afraid that your book isn't marketable, there are a few points that are most noticeable and marketable in realistic fiction: romance is an incredibly popular subplot/plot, and if it isn't in your book yet, it may be a good idea to add if it's missing something character-compelled. If your characters are doing fine on their own, don't add it! It's not worth forcing it in, as it will probably replace genuine plot proficiency with dulled-down spice.

Another point is a business being run by your character, a job they work, or a college they're going to. By focusing the plot around one major place or event, you're ensuring that your book isn't all over the place, and has a specific niche that will be noticed and recognized when designing covers and writing summaries.

A main and important one is relatable characters. It may sound basic, but it's crucial that your characters aren't facing any problems that aren't realistic to a majority of your readers in some capacity. Realistic fiction readers come to enjoy characters traversing and overcoming relatable problems. Your characters can still be members of congress or fishermen in the Alaska wild, while still groaning over getting up early or making small talk or having relationship problems.

Problem:

My story feels too choppy, because there isn't a large main arc.

Possibly Solutions:

This is more of a general writing tip, but the problem comes up quite a lot in realistic fiction so I feel as though it should be covered.

It's really all about honing in on one major plot point/motive. Is your character's business failing? Is an important side character pulling away? Are they worried about graduating high school with a good enough grade for the college they want? Pick one main plot point. If you're too attached to multiple, consider either dulling them down to plot bunnies/supporting side plots that help develop their journey, or even a series! The biggest reason for this problem is muddying up a story with too many basic points, and not putting the focus on one point, making it bigger and more exciting and crucial.

That's all I've got, folks! If you have any questions, DM or drop me an ask and I'd be happy to make another one of these posts! <3

#writing #authors #writing advice #writing help #realistic fiction #writing realistic fiction #contemporary fiction

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