Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
fictionalmenmistress · 40 minutes ago
Sick of writing smut and fluff sometimes and just wish I could actually have those intimate (both romantic and physical) needs fulfilled for real.
Sick of only being happy with life in my imagination.
2 notes · View notes
patton-ly-absurd · 2 hours ago
Does anyone else read fics about ships that idk seem like they wouldn’t work in reality?
Like if we’re miraculous specific here chloenette lilanette, not necessarily because you otp it or anything but because you think the fanfics would be interesting?
you have a start example: character a dislikes character b and you have an end goal, friendship or a romantic relationship, but how would you get there? How do you make these characters develop and learn more about each other and overcome obstacles (that likely other pairings wouldn’t have) in an organic way? I think it allows for a lot of creativity. Whether or not the characters involved in canon are good people or hell even in fic start out as really bad people, finding a way to change the perception of a character, I think serves as proof of good writing or at least persuasive writing.
If you ever had a thought like “well these two would prolly be really close if xyz didn’t happen” think more on that idea, expand it in your mind or even better write it down, and if you don’t like how it turned out that’s okay. You can always change things.
While I personally don’t write very often (anxiety and work don’t give me much time) I’ve always liked thinking on situations. Even if you don’t want to write to can serve as inspiration to other writers. Be creative the ideas you make are yours, whether inspired by something else or not. Keep on keeping on you all are amazing.
3 notes · View notes
cemeterydyke · 3 hours ago
Tumblr media
“the unspoken psalm” 18.04.21 (transcription under the cut)
The Unspoken Psalm Jesus Christ broke the bread and called it His body, feeding His disciples with a love written in countless languages. i write devotions a hundred times over and am running out of ways to feed you. you never ask where my appetite lies, the kind of hunger i feel. you pick apart poetry with your bare hands. i have a theory that Judas licked the platter before he left the last supper. he was not full. we are both at the table, starving. i have nothing else to give. the cupboard and shelves collect dust, our sermons are one-sided. did Christ offer to crack his ribs apart to ease the ache of His lover? did they let any part of Him go to waste? your heart is edible, did you know that? i don't know how to prepare it. and pick it out of your teeth? do you eat it with your hands it does not matter, you bite the hand that feeds you. in three days time, i will purge my life of sin, of the mold that has infested this feast, and i will lock the door behind you.
10 notes · View notes
beautifulanemoia · a month ago
Drabble No. 14: "Criminal"
A detective turning into a criminal wasn't unheard of. They just never expected it to be her, one of the top in her division. But causing crimes was better than solving them, she had decided. Detective work had gotten boring, repetitive, predictable. She needed something new. And what better way to satisfy her needs than to lead all her ex-coworkers on a wild goose chase. They knew it was her, that she made obvious, but aside from that, everything was spontaneous, extravagant. Just the right amount of flair she needed to liven up her life. This was gonna be good.
By Beautiful Anemoia
0 notes
beautifulanemoia · 29 days ago
Poem No. 14: “Butterfly”
Yellow, oranges, and reds, purples, blues, and greens All perched oh so delicately, crown jewels meant for nature
Curved, designed to perfection with fragile, glass-like wings that could shatter in a blink yet they can harness the wind
They dance and flit around elegant creatures of freedom The colors they possess leaving painted trails behind
How I want to protect you to keep you from breaking but you need to soar higher and decorate the skies above
By Beautiful Anemoia
0 notes
qlcoach · 6 hours ago
If you are having a hard time, or would like some spiritual assistance for your dreams and goals, just contact us at our profile link. Remember, you always have unconditional worth and value. Blessings! 🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻#authorsofinstagram #authors #anxietyrelief #amwriting #authorssupportingauthors #bookaddict #bookstagram #bookish #booksofinstagram #bookshelf #booksbooksbooks #booklover #booklover #bookworm #bookblogger #beautifulbooks #writerscommunity #wellbeing #writersofinstagram #spiritualbookstore #spiritualbooks #spiritualifecoach #recoverybooks #indieauthorsunited #indiereads #indiereaders #indiebookstore #indieauthor (at Gary Eby Author)
0 notes
qlcoach · 6 hours ago
Let your spirit fly with us as you read "Reflections" @amazonbooks. Hold to the Truth that we are free, unlimited, whole, healthy, and at peace right now. Sending you Positive Energy today. Enjoy our spiritual services at our profile link. 🏡🌅🎆🌴🎵⚡💖 #anxiety #authors #anxietyrelief #authorssupportingauthors #bookaddict #beautiful #bookstagram #bookish #bookstagrammer #bookshelf #bookshelf #booksbooksbooks #booklover #booklover #bookworm #bookblogger #beautifulbooks #bibliophile #booknerd #spiritualbooks #spiritualbookstore #writerscommunity #wellbeing #writersofinstagram #indieauthorsunited #indiereaders #indieauthor #indiebookstore #recoverybooks (at Cave Junction, Oregon)
0 notes
help-for-writers · 7 hours ago
Great book starters!
-it wasn’t my fault, this time anyways
-This is the story of how I died yet also didn't
-I want to apologize in advance for what you are about to read
-"You must be insane!" (Said by friend of main character) "Of course I am!" (said by main character)
-as much as I hated to admit it, but he/she was right
-"Why are you even here?"
-"Are you serious right now?!"
-Why they would leave him/her/me alone was a mystery
0 notes
beautifulanemoia · a month ago
Flash Fiction No. 13: "Healing"
The woman stepped off the train, a wrinkled note held tightly in her hand. There were hardly any people around, just trees as far as the eye could see, and a singular dirt path that led forward. Getting off the platform, she adjusted the scarf around her neck and headed down the path. The greenery continued on both sides, guiding and accompanying her.
There, in the distance, stood the place she was looking for—a stone cottage, with white roses crawling up the walls and the word "Healing" engraved on a wooden sign.
She walked up to the wooden door and opened it, hearing the chime of a bell announce her arrival. A man standing behind a small, wooden reception desk, wearing glasses and a polite smile, nodded his head in acknowledgement. Without saying a word, he extended a hand out, waiting.
Hesitantly, she placed her wrinkled note into his open palm. As he read it, she spared a glace around the place. A soft, unnatural light was giving the place a warm aura. A maroon sofa was centered in the middle of the area, a brown coffee table in front of it. The walls were accessorized with a clock, dried flowers, and impressionist art. She quickly turned back to the man just as he finished reading the note.
Handing it back to her, he stepped out from behind the desk and motioned with his hand to the sofa, bowing a bit to her. Eyeing him, she got his message and took a seat.
The man straightened up and headed over to some double doors, disappearing behind them. The woman looked at where he last was, wondering where the doors led to.
As time passed, she leaned back and closed her eyes. But the sound of approaching footsteps made her open them again.
The man reappeared and she stood up, watching as he pulled out a sealed envelope. When he extended the envelope to her, she looked at him, confused, before taking it.
Just then, a single ding made her look at those doors again. A small light had lit up right by the top of them. The man motioned to the double doors, and seeing as how she had gotten used to his actions, walked through them.
A large hallway greeted her, softly lit and lined with door after door. She glanced at the envelope in her hands, noting how it looked quite old. Turning it over, the wax seal caught her attention. Stamped into the wax was a single, curved letter.
She ripped the seal off, wondering if it were just coincidence that the man had given her a letter with her first name's initial on it. He didn't even know her name, she had never given it to him.
Flipping the envelope upside down, a white carnation fell onto the palm of her hand, dried yet still elegant.
A soft creak made her look up. One of the doors was now open, a soft glow emanating from the room inside. It seemed warm, comforting.
She wandered to the door, peeking her head a bit to see what was inside.
A bark caught her attention, and she swept the room with her eyes before they landed on a small, white terrier. His ears perked up and he dashed toward the woman, his little paws tapping quickly on the floor.
She stood there, frozen, eyes fixed on the dog currently jumping in joy. So many questions crossed her mind. But only one seemed important. How?
This little white dog looked exactly the same as her childhood dog, and he behaved in the same manner too.
Teddy. Teddy was right in front of her.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she crumpled to her knees, a hand tentatively reaching out to pet the dog. He came closer, licking her hand before throwing himself on the floor and rolling a bit.
A broken laugh escaped her throat as tears streamed down her face freely. Lately, she had been so stressed, so overwhelmed, so tired, to the point that she felt like she was drowning. She needed some relief, something to save her, before she was broken far beyond repair.
Opening her arms, the dog jumped into her embrace as she squeezed him and cried harder. The tears seemed endless, but with every sob she let out, her chest felt lighter, like if she could actually breathe again. Like if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
She pet the dog, running her fingers through his curly fur, before finally letting him go. The dog jumped back to the floor, and the patter of his paws disappeared. Drying her eyes with the back of her sleeve, she looked around her, only to find that the room was empty.
Her heart twisted a bit as she realized that Teddy was gone. No, he was never there to begin with. Somehow, the room had given her that hallucination.
But it was for her sake, to help her heal.
A small smile spread on her tear-streaked face. The fact that it was just an illusion didn't matter to her much. It helped her nonetheless.
"Thank you."
She left the room, walking down the hallway and coming out through the double doors into the lobby. The man from before looked up at her, a small, warm smile curling his lips, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped. He could tell that the shadow looming over her shoulder had disappeared. She was a lot better compared to when she came in.
She gave him a wide smile, bowing a bit in appreciation, before heading out the front door, the chime of the bell signalling her leave.
Her hand went to her pocket, feeling the crumpled note that brought her here in the first place.
Recipe for healing: the memories from yesterday, the joy for today
By Beautiful Anemoia
0 notes
sccunningham · 9 hours ago
Tumblr media
Although, meeting dodgy folk can be important for writers. It feeds storyline ideas, character traits and behaviours, giving authenticity to a script. Am grateful when I get a chance to study one, I couldn't make it up.... 🙃 #writing #writingcommunity #books #winningmindset #amwriting #writerscommunity #writerslife #writer #author #scriptwriting #screenplay #scriptwriter #script #filmscript #sccunningham
0 notes
denmouse38 · 15 hours ago
Tumblr media
#memes #meme #memes😂 #memestagram #writingmemes #write #writerscommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #writerslife #writers #writercommunity #writingforlife (at Denver, Colorado)
0 notes