nadiaswritingworld
welcome to my world! have a seat
she/her, i love to write romance, sci-fi, suspense, contemporary, period pieces, poems, essays, and more! i also take requests/prompts!
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hey bookies sorry for not updating in a while, i've been taking a nice long break. i'm going to try and upload more stuff soon, i had more ideas!
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writerscommunity#writing#original writing#tumblr#trendingnow#please dont leave me
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My First Love (a poem)
My first love wasn’t my boyfriend,
But I feel like it would be wrong of me
To say he was nothing.
My first love was different
The first to see beyond my face
To like me for me.
My first love and I were opposites
We were raised in unalike families
With diverging values.
My first love might think
That what we had died
Before it could be born.
My first love is wrong
I believe that what we had
Was very much alive.
My first love sees a house that burned down
I see a field of flowers that arose from the ashes.
My first love hears my name with regret and resentment
I hear his name with enlightenment and wisdom.
My first love feels tears from the thought of me
I feel a smile on my face from the memories I have of him.
My first love appeared at an interesting time
Tragic in the most beautiful way possible
The feeling I had was eerily similar to love
And maybe it was in its own way
My first love, oh how I still love him
But in a new way
Like the last, this love is hopeful
But the hope is vastly different
I feel the inkling of a friendship
Like seeds sinking into the ground
After the house has burned to nothing but ash.
My first love doesn’t think so
But one day, the seeds will grow into something.
Something new, something foreign
Yet comfortable.
One day, the charred house will be gone
And the field of flowers will be there
I’ll be standing there
Waiting for him, my first love
I’ll smile at him
And wipe away his tears
I’ll take his hand
And lead him into the field with me
Maybe one day
I will think of him as my friend
Rather than my first love.
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writerscommunity#writing#original writing#tumblr#trendingnow#poems and poetry#poetry#poets on tumblr#writers and poets#poetic#poems#poetrycommunity#original poem#poems on tumblr#short poem#mutuals#love#heartbreak#heartache#feel#light angst
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me when i have a thg fanfic idea but in an au where katniss kills snow and coin kills katniss and actually has that one honorary hunger games with the capitol children and a few of the victors who actually survived the second rebellion become gamemakers/training instructors/stylists/escorts/mentors and my mc who is a victor is the new ceaser flickerman while also realizing that coin is actually evil and should be done away with
just a silly thought!
#fanfic#fanfiction#tumblr#the hunger games#hunger games#thg series#thg#thg fanfiction#mockingjay#writing stuff#writeblr#writers on tumblr#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writerscommunity#writing#trendingnow#i love my mutuals
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The Boat
It is difficult living in a world of polarities.
Left or right, up or down.
Belong to one or be cast out
To the sea, in a lonely boat.
Rocking
Back
And Forth
Back
And Forth
It’s jarring, to be frank.
Accept it, or discriminate.
In a world of dark versus light
I hardly know who I am
Humans are diverse, but the rigid structure still intervenes
Like an illness invading the body
With a fever that is yet to break.
My heart aches and my eyes are drooping.
I’m tired, I want to go to sleep.
And maybe, I can forget about everything else.
And maybe, just maybe, I can fade
Into the graying haze of my dreams
My one and only true conscience, where I am me
And no one else.
Gray
Gray
Gray
Like the sky, like the ocean
The ocean where my boat sits without harbor.
The wind dies down, the stars are reborn.
And the boat finally stops its rocking.
For now, at least, until the morning when I wake
And begin again.
- Nadia
I wrote this poem for one of my classes since we had to write a narrative poem based on one of our biggest struggles. The struggle I chose was struggling with a sense of identity and fitting in! I hope it sounds good <3
#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#original writing#poems on tumblr#original poem#poems and poetry#poem#short poem#poems and quotes#tumblr#i love my mutuals#algorithm
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hi bookies super unrelated to writing but for all my new mutuals here, what fandoms are y'all in? the fandom i've been most involved in within the past year is the last of us since i read jrrmint's dbf joel series and i became OBSESSED. I'm absolutely broken now that jrrmint decided to deactivate her tumblr, but there are so many good fics out there retaining to this silly old man! i love all of it.
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More stuff lol (part 3 I think?)
“I doubt it’s anything personal, Maeve,” Gladys says reassuringly.
I start poking through the racks at Willow Hill, my favorite boutique on Meyne Island. Gladys’s sister, Raquelle, is getting married on Friday and hired me as the entertainment for the reception which is why Gladys and I are both shopping for dresses right now.
“I don’t see how it couldn’t be personal,” I glance over at her. “He probably thinks I’m aggravating.”
“How can he think you’re aggravating?” Gladys asks as she inspects the dress options in front of her. “He doesn’t even know you, and he’s too busy to even have time to be aggravated with you.”
“Is he always this grumpy?” I ask.
“Always,” she answers with a nod. “He’s grumpy with all of us nurses, and he’s blunt, but he’s not rude. At least, he doesn’t try to be.”
I can’t help but sigh. It’s rather annoying how I haven’t thought about much else but Dr. Milborough for the past two weeks, and I know that seeing him at the beach three days ago has already just set off another two weeks of me thinking about him.
The thing is, I don’t even know what it is about him. He’s literally just another man with two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, and all his limbs. Maybe it’s because he’s tall, maybe it’s because he has that accent, maybe it’s because he has gentle gray eyes and strong arms.
Or maybe it’s because he speaks softly and doesn’t have to shout in order to be heard. Or because he’s polite—enough—and didn’t seem inconvenienced by helping me that day in the grocery store. Or perhaps it’s because he didn’t beg me to dedicate my next performance to him, or to sign an autograph, or attempted to convince me to go out with him despite only knowing of me due to my moderate amount of fame.
I know, this is ridiculously pathetic. I shouldn’t be crushing on this man for such simple things, but I can’t help it. Besides, he has the cutest dog ever!
“Oh, I don’t see why I even care,” I sigh again. “Fuck this, am I right?”
Gladys chuckles. “Sure, Maeve, sure.” She reaches for one of the hangers and holds up a dress to her figure. “What do we think about this one?” It’s light blue and sleeveless with a crisp collar and cinched waist. Very sophisticated. Very Gladys.
“I like it,” I smile. “It’ll look gorgeous with those heels that Duncan gave you for your birthday. You know, the gray ones. I would suggest the white ones that I got you for Christmas last year, but I think that Rockie would actually murder both of us if you wore white shoes on her big day.” Neither of us can help laughing at this.
“I swear that girl hasn’t been more stressed about anything in her entire life,” Gladys says with a shake of her head. “That fiance of hers hasn’t been much help, either. He don't know anything about weddings. I don’t even think he knows that Rockie wants all the guests to wear
blue so we can match with the decorations.”
I shake my head too. “Men, am I right?”
“Absolutely,” Gladys agrees. “Except for my husband.”
“Of course not,” I smile. “Duncan’s one of the good ones.” It’s true. Gladys and Duncan are a fantastic pair. They both contribute the same amount and neither of them make an important choice without consulting the other. The most genuine definition of a pair of equals. A unit. I would envy them if I didn’t already love them so damn much.
“He is,” Gladys nods. “You know I have no time for those pissy ass men who have no morals or work ethic.”
“Most definitely,” I move a couple dresses out of the way before I find a blue one. It’s a shade of darker blue and made of the softest cotton. There’s a thin halter that ties in the back. The skirt doesn’t look too short, yet it isn’t too long. I’d say it would go down a little bit past my knees if I was wearing it.
“Thoughts? Opinions?” I hold the dress up to myself so Gladys can get a proper look at it. “Hopes? Wishes? Dreams?”
“Well isn’t that just gorgeous?” Gladys carefully runs her fingers over the soft cotton fabric. “This would look pretty with those brown high heels of yours. Those ones with the tiny beads on the toes.”
I picture the shoes Gladys mentioned and I certainly agree. Brown shoes are almost always a good choice. They’re timeless and look good on any occasion.
“Should we try these dresses on, then?” I gesture towards the dressing rooms nearby.
“Most definitely,” Gladys says. “I’ll go find a salesgirl.”
***
The dress is nothing short of beautiful. On top of that, it’s also comfortable against my skin. Gladys’s dress suits her as well. Blue has always complemented her.
We both change back into our regular clothes and purchase our dresses one at a time. It’s not long before we’re back on the ferry. Gladys lives on Nerina Island, which is the island second-closest to Meyne, so she doesn’t have to sit on the boat for very long. Meanwhile, I live on Kingfisher Island, which is about another eight miles west.
Gladys and I stand near the railing, talking as Meyne shrinks with every passing second. This is a common thing for us. Between us, there’s always words to be said.
“I honestly can’t wait to perform at Gold Stone on Saturday,” I say. “I know I’ve performed there too many times to count but it was the first-”
I look at Gladys who isn’t saying a word but rather staring straight ahead.
“Uh, hello?” I wave my hand in front of Gladys’s face. “You alive in there?”
“Speak of the devil,” she turns her head towards me, her hand touching my arm. “Look ahead. Don’t make it obvious.”
I look, but I’m not sure if I’m being subtle about it. I think I am. “What the heck am I even looking at?” I blurt out.
“Will you hush?” Gladys’s gentle hand then swats me on the arm. “Look at who's sitting on that bench over there, hm? The man reading the newspaper.”
I look again, and this time, I see what Gladys was staring at. Well, rather who Gladys was staring at. I feel my face heat up and my heart thumps louder inside my chest.
“Fuck,” I mumble. “It’s him.”
He’s gorgeous. Today he’s wearing a beige button-down shirt—with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows—and a pair of slacks. There’s a brown leather satchel next to him. He’s definitely
just left work. His hair is slightly disheveled and he’s wearing a pair of reading glasses with thin wire frames, his brows slightly furrowed from deep focus.
Gladys squeezes my arm. She says something, but I can’t comprehend it.
My eyes widen. I’m snapped out of my trance. “What?”
“You heard what I said,” Gladys says. “Go talk to him.”
“A-alone?” I turn my head to look at her again.
A knowing expression crosses her face. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to him one-on-one before. You’ve done it twice already. No harm in a third time.”
“But like…what do I say?” I bite my bottom lip, confused on what to do. “Can you go over there with me? Please, Gladys, please?”
Gladys sighs. After a second of hesitation she says, “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
I grin at her in thanks. She lets go of my arm and we walk over there in tandem. As we approach Dr. Milborough, he looks up. For a moment, there’s a look in his eye that I can’t quite read. I can’t tell if he’s surprised, annoyed, or a mix of the two. His gaze falls on Gladys first.
“Miss Okoye,” Dr. Milborough nods at Gladys. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. His eyes flit over to me next. His smile dissipates like a flame that’s been extinguished. “Miss Eaton.” he nods again. “How’re ye ladies today?”
Holy shit. He really doesn’t like me.
“Doing just fine, Doctor,” Gladys replies with that sweet smile of hers. “Maeve and I just went to Willow Hill.”
“Did you, now?” Dr. Milborough cocks his head slightly. His eyes meet mine again. “That’s that popular clothing store on Meyne, no?”
“It is,” I say, straining to remain casual. “We each bought a dress.”
Why did I say that? It’s not like he cares.
“How nice,” he turns towards Gladys again. “Whatever for?”
“My sister’s wedding,” Gladys says. “It’s on Friday.”
“Oh, yes, forgot that Raquelle was gettin' hitched,” Dr. Milborough’s subtle smile returns. “To Bernard Brown, right? Good for her.”
“If you say so.” Gladys chuckles. She glances at me, as if she’s silently willing me to say something. Anything.
My mind goes blank for a couple of seconds.
“The newspaper came out on Monday, and you still haven’t read it yet?”
You dumbass.
Dr. Milborough is quiet for a moment. He’s probably trying to figure out how to respond to someone who sounds so stupid!
“Well, if ye couldn’t already tell, Miss Eaton, I’m a doctor. I work five days a week for ten hours and I’ve hardly had enough time to even pick up the newspaper.”
“O-oh,” I feel my face flushing in embarrassment. “Right. Sorry. That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Dr. Milborough says. He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “But it’s alright, ma’am.”
Ma’am.
I feel a spark of electricity jolt throughout my body. My skin grows warmer and my palms sweat. The things I’d let this man do when I don’t even know his exact age is downright shameful.
I can’t even form words. I just smile like a fool.
The ferry stops at the dock on Nerina. I turn to Gladys. Why does she have to go right now?!
“Bye bye, darling,” I say to Gladys, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I had fun today.”
“Goodbye, darling,” Gladys gives me a quick side hug and returns my kiss on the cheek. “I had fun today too. I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Of course, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I wave goodbye as Gladys walks away. I watch her exit the boat and step onto the dock before starting her stroll home.
“I didn’t know you and Miss Okoye were so close,” Dr. Milborough says to me. The boat starts moving again.
I shrug. “Well, to be frank, Dr. Milborough, you don’t know me.”
He hesitates for a moment before answering, “You’re right, Miss Eaton, I don’t.”
“Well, wouldn’t you like to?” I ask. I have no idea how he’ll respond to this, but there’s only one way to find out.
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice now, do I?” he says. “I see your face everywhere.” Now I’m the one who doesn’t know what to say. Sure, I’m well-known within the Sanctuary, but seeing my face everywhere might be a little extreme, which is why Dr. Milborough’s comment confuses me. What does he mean by “I see your face everywhere”? I doubt it’s him saying that he thinks of me; I wouldn’t believe that at all. So, I try to spin it to sound like an insult in my head, yet everything goes blank. What does he mean?!
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
Dr. Milborough’s response is quick. “Well, yer well known, and yer always performing at my favorite bar.”
“Which is?” It takes everything in me to not take a deep, anticipating breath in. His answer could possibly lead to major changes to my performance schedule for a while.
He hesitates. His eyes meet mine. There’s a spark of something in his stare, but it only lasts for a second. It vanishes as soon as it appears.
“Gold Stone,” Dr. Milborough finally says.
I hold back a smile. He picks up his newspaper again, indicating that this conversation is more or less over and that I should just get lost.
I hope I get to see him on Saturday. I don’t care if he likes me or not. In fact, if he does, then maybe seeing my face and hearing my voice will make him think about me even more.
That is, if he even thinks about me in the first place, which I’m sure he doesn’t.
This is the silly third chapter in this story! The funny thing is that I came up with a lot of the plot from character ai haha! I love character ai!
#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#original writing
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Well, hey there, Aranwen! So nice to meet you, and thank you for reblogging my post! I've never delved into the world of volleygays, but I sure as heck will check it out! Thank you for stumbling into my little corner of the internet, your kind words mean the world to me! Cheers!
Xo,
Nadia
If I'm being honest, I have no idea if anyone will see this, but if you do, hello! My name is Nadia and I love to write! I've been writing since about 2018 and I started off writing sci-fi but I've slowly started writing more and more contemporary things.
Some tropes I love:
Friends to lovers
Enemies to lovers
Forced proximity
Fluff!
Mutual pining
I LOVE romance like LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. The thing is, though, there isn't too much good romance I've been reading. In printed books, at least. The romance I read on Tumblr is SO good. Especially fanfiction. I love fanfiction, but I prefer to read it than write it.
Genres I do like include:
Romance! (contemporary, historical, etc)
Sci-Fi/Dystopian
(Some) Fantasy
Historical Fiction
Thrillers/Mysteries
Though I do love romance, I don't like dark romance that much. It's just not for me, but if it's for you then that's great! I'm a fluff gal, and I will read things like smut, but it's not really something I write (maybe one day, though. I just need to practice haha).
Well, yeah, that's about it. I hope someone sees this. Or not. I don't really know. If someone does end up seeing this, though, I hope you give me a follow and stick around! I might just post something good.
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reblog to teleport your mutuals to a massive party when jkr dies
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More stuff!
Elton
Salt.
That’s all I forgot.
Matches, shaving cream, and salt.
“Damn.” I mutter under my breath. I’m standing in front of the peninsula in my kitchen with my arms crossed as I stare at the small box of matches and can of shaving cream that I just bought.
I never forget things! If I did, I probably wouldn’t be a doctor. So, of course it’s frustrating to check out, get on the ferry home, and set everything out just to realize that one of the very things I needed isn’t even in the paper bag from the store.
I would blame it on Miss Eaton. I would say that she…distracted me, but whose fault is that? Certainly not hers. All she did was ask for help, and sure, the look of those big dark eyes, the way her black hair was curled and fell past her shoulders made a certain type of warmth bloom inside my chest, but it’s not her fault that she looks even more bewitching in the flesh than
she already does in the plenty photographs of photographs I’ve seen of her in the paper. It’s all my fault. Definitely mine.
I sigh as I open one of the drawers in the peninsula and toss the matches in there, slamming the drawer shut. I grab a hold of the shaving cream and walk out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hall towards my bathroom.
Don’t let some random woman take over ye thoughts, ye stronger than this.
I reach the bathroom, switch on the light. I catch my reflection as I stand in the doorway. I can’t help but smile.
But she knows my name.
My smile drops. I sigh.
“Come on, lad,” I huff. “Get it together.”
I walk into the bathroom and firmly set the can of shaving cream on the counter. Then, I do a full one-eighty and shut the light off.
Ye’ll forget about ‘er soon enough.
* * *
Two weeks’ve passed since I saw Miss Eaton at the grocery store on Meyne Island, and it’s been two straight weeks of me thinking about nothing but her. I see her face every time I close my eyes. I hear her voice in every song on the radio. Yesterday, I caught myself looking at the schedule for the entertainment at Gold Stone—the bar I frequent every other weekend—searching for her name on the list. I found her name multiple times, actually, and of course, I memorized the nearest date and time of her return.
Saturday, June 14th from 7:00 to 8:30.
The information’s etched into my brain. I can’t get rid of it no matter how hard I try. Multiple times I come close to marking my calendar, but something in me says that that’s obsessive, and I’m not obsessive. I refuse to admit it.
Today’s Sunday, June 8th, meaning that Miss Eaton performs at Gold Stone in exactly six days. To be honest, it’s embarrassing how that’s the first thing I think of when I wake up. I don’t think of my dog, Maisie, pawing me in the face until my eyes open. She stares down at me with those big green eyes of hers, her tongue out and her hot, humid breath hitting my face.
“Ge down, lass,” I huff and push her off of me. She might be a fully grown border collie, but she’s just as damn needy as a human baby. That’s all she is really, a big, furry baby.
Since Maisie obviously doesn’t like to listen to anybody ever, I have to eventually pick her up and move her to the other side of the bed. She stares at me as I turn on the lamp and hobble out of bed. I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s 9:30. No wonder Maisie woke me up. On the weekends, I always take her for a walk along the shore around 10:00.
Maisie follows me around as I get ready for the day. When I brush my teeth and wash my face, she's a wee bit more patient and sits behind me, waiting for me to be done. However, by the time I’m in the kitchen pouring myself a cup of coffee, she’s standing on her hind legs and pawing at me again. That is, until I fill her food bowl, but she only stops for a couple of minutes before she’s back at it again.
“Okay, okay, calm down, Maisie,” I’m practically tripping over myself as I go to grab the leash at about 9:50. “I’m takin’ ye for ye walk. I promise ye’ll be able to run on the sand very soon.”
My house sits on a hill, and when I walk on the cobblestone path that goes down it, I’ll reach the dock, but this dock is my own and doesn’t lead to the ocean but rather to a pond that I’m about ninety-percent sure is manmade. Maisie isn’t too big on it, though. She likes sand way more than she likes grass.
I glance at my mailbox as I walk. The bright orange mailbox that sits at the end of the cobblestone path. It wasn’t always orange, it used to be white, but for the life of me I can’t figure out when it changed colors. I certainly didn’t paint it, and I have no idea who did. Either way, the damn thing’s an eyesore.
The shore is about a five minute walk from my house. No one drives cars on any of the islands for there aren’t any roads which are suitable for driving. Though, it hardly makes much of a difference, really, because each of the islands are fairly small. Walking and biking are just fine.
In the summertime, the shore gets uncomfortably full, but since it’s a Sunday morning, the majority of the crowd is probably still asleep and won’t show up until the afternoon. Right now, there’s only about ten to fifteen other people compared to the usual fifty or so.
I walk Maisie towards the ocean. The water reflects the hot sun, making it almost blinding to look at it. Maisie insists on walking where the waves roll onto the sand before sweeping out once again. I’m not entirely sure how a herding dog could love water so much, but like I said, Maisie acts more human than dog sometimes.
“You know you have to sit in the back garden when we get back, right?” I say to Maisie as she trots through the water. Tongue hanging out of her mouth, wagging her tail. Happier than a damn pig in mud. That is, until we get back to the house and I make her sit out in the yard so her paws can dry off.
In the distance, there’s three small children laughing and splashing each other in the water. Further back, a man sits in a folding chair. He’s reading a book but also monitoring the kids. There’s a couple more people out with their dogs, two teenage girls playing a swift game of badminton.
However, the peaceful atmosphere of the setting is suddenly disturbed when Maisie tugs at the leash.
“Stay,” I command softly. My grip on the leash grows tighter.
Maisie begins to bark, and the leash is snatched out of my hand the moment she starts bolting away.
“Maisie!” I call, chasing after her. She keeps barking and I swear she’s running even faster now.
Maisie quickly changes direction and starts charging towards a random woman who is sprawled out on a towel, clearly trying to tan. The woman clearly pays no attention until Maisie approaches her and practically jumps on her, knocking the woman flat on her back.
“Maisie, get back here!” I rush towards my dog. By the time I get there, the woman is sitting up again, but Maisie is licking her face.
The woman is laughing. She’s wearing a bikini and it’s a reddish-orange color. She has a pair of sunglasses on her face. They’re black with thick, rectangular frames. Her long hair is dark and wavy.
“Your dog is absolutely adorable,” says the woman amidst her fit of giggles. Her voice is lower-pitched and smoother than silk, almost sultry even. “I would’ve never guessed you to be a dog person, Dr. Milborough.”
I have to bite my cheek so my jaw doesn’t drop open. There’s absolutely no way in hell.
“That’s presumptuous.”
I don’t mean for it to sound grumpy, but it does. Miss Eaton, however, pays no attention to my instinctively harsh manner and continues playing with my dog.
“Oh hush,” Miss Eaton says playfully, scratching behind Maisie’s ears. “As if you haven’t made assumptions about me.”
“I don’t assume anythin’ about anyone I don’t know,” I shrug. Sure, it’s a lie, but she doesn’t have to know that. She doesn’t have to know anything since I don’t know her, and I don’t
plan on knowing her. I can simply admire her beauty from afar, as all the other men who are smitten with her do. Not that I’m smitten with her, though. I’m just saying.
“Okay, am I a dog person or a cat person then?” Miss Eaton looks up at me. She takes off her sunglasses and places them on her head. My breath nearly catches in my throat. Her eyes are…gorgeous.
“I’m gonna guess dog person,” I say, motioning to Maisie. “I know I’m correct.”
“That was an assumption, Dr. Milborough,” Miss Eaton chuckles. “I like both animals equally.”
I roll my eyes and hold my hand out. “My dog, please, Miss Eaton.”
“Fine, fine,” Miss Eaton grabs Maisie’s leash and hands it to me. I grab a hold of it firmly, but I can’t leave quite yet.
“Be good, Maisie,” Miss Eaton says to the dog. She scratches behind her ears one last time and kisses her right between the eyes. “Don’t give the doctor any trouble, okay? Not any more than normal, at least.”
“Can I go now?” I ask, trying my best to sound impatient. I am. I think. I want to leave.
I think.
“Sure,” Miss Eaton says. She smiles at me. “Have a good one, Dr. Milborough.”
I sigh. “You too, Miss Eaton.” And with that, I start to walk away. I have to lightly tug on the leash so Maisie will follow me.
“We’re going home,” I say to Maisie once we’re far enough from Miss Eaton. “I’ve had enough of the shore for one day.”
hi silly geese, this is a continuation of the bit i wrote yesterday. the funny thing is that this storyline is based on some of my character ai delusions. i hope im not the only one who comes up with plot and characters by using the silliest website on the internet!
#creative writing#female writers#tumblr#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#tumblr milestone#algorithm#trendingnow#snippet#writing wip
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If I'm being honest, I have no idea if anyone will see this, but if you do, hello! My name is Nadia and I love to write! I've been writing since about 2018 and I started off writing sci-fi but I've slowly started writing more and more contemporary things.
Some tropes I love:
Friends to lovers
Enemies to lovers
Forced proximity
Fluff!
Mutual pining
I LOVE romance like LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. The thing is, though, there isn't too much good romance I've been reading. In printed books, at least. The romance I read on Tumblr is SO good. Especially fanfiction. I love fanfiction, but I prefer to read it than write it.
Genres I do like include:
Romance! (contemporary, historical, etc)
Sci-Fi/Dystopian
(Some) Fantasy
Historical Fiction
Thrillers/Mysteries
Though I do love romance, I don't like dark romance that much. It's just not for me, but if it's for you then that's great! I'm a fluff gal, and I will read things like smut, but it's not really something I write (maybe one day, though. I just need to practice haha).
Well, yeah, that's about it. I hope someone sees this. Or not. I don't really know. If someone does end up seeing this, though, I hope you give me a follow and stick around! I might just post something good.
#creative writing#female writers#tumblr#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#my writing#tumblr milestone#trendingnow#romance#romance writing#author#original character
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More writing that no one will see
Sugar.
That's all I need.
Lighter fluid, a tube of lipstick, and sugar.
I currently have the first two items in my arms but the last sits high above my head. I’ve never once understood why grocery stores make their shelves go so high up. What human being could possibly reach for something without having to at least stand on their toes?
My first instinct is to obviously climb the shelf in order to grab a hold of the bag of sugar, but I once saw someone do that in a convenience store and resulted in the shelves collapsing. So, I decide that the most rational thing to do is to find one of the employees that are always floating around waiting to help.
I’m just about to turn and leave when the sound of someone sneezing makes me glance over my shoulder. I had no idea that there was someone else on this aisle with me. I was alone when I turned here only a mere couple of moments ago.
Dr. Elton Milborough, the only doctor within the cluster of islands that we live on, stands only a couple feet away. He’s standing in front of the shelf with all of the canisters of salt and he turns his head as soon as I turn mine. Our eyes meet. He sniffles.
“Gesundheit.” I say politely.
“Thank ye.” he replies gruffly. His Scottish accent is thick and gravely like the salt rocks that I sometimes find on the beach.
In the three years I’ve lived within The Sanctuary—the name of the group of islands in the northwestern pacific—I’ve never had to go to the doctor once, therefore, I had yet the chance to meet Dr. Milborough until today. Despite standing a couple feet away from me, he looks significantly younger in person than he did in the one photograph I saw of him in the paper when he first came to The Sanctuary. In fact, he looks to be about my age, give or take a couple years. His fluffy hair is a lighter shade of strawberry blond and it’s on the longer side, slightly wavy. He has a scruffy beard the same color as his hair and his mustache hides the majority of his mouth, making it impossible to see his smile. If he even knows how to smile in the first place. He’s also really tall, I’d say he’s about six foot-
Wait.
He’s tall.
“Could you help me reach for something?” I ask the question before I can stop myself. I need to go home, but I can’t go home if I can’t get the damn sugar I came here for!
Dr. Milborough hesitates for a second, as if he’s considering whether to say yes and reluctantly help me or say no and snap at me. I’m really hoping it’s the former, if I’m being honest, because I really have no time for men—or anyone, really—who bitch at random strangers.
“Aye,” he replies. He walks a bit closer to me. He’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The short sleeves of his shirt show off his pale arms, littered in freckles. “What’re ye tryin’ to get?”
I simply point up at the top shelf.
Without another word, Dr. Milborough reaches his arm up. He has to stand on his tip-toes, but he easily grabs ahold of the small green bag of sugar. He lowers himself back down and hands me the item.
“Thank you, Dr. Milborough,” I smile as I gratefully take the bag of sugar into my arms. “You’ve saved me a lot of suffering today.”
Dr. Milborough nods, but then, he makes eye contact again. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and I’m guessing that he’s confused since I know his name right off the bat.
“My name’s Maeve,” I say, trying to make the moment less uncomfortable. “I would shake your hand but my arms are really full right now.”
“I…I know,” Dr. Milborough nods again. “Maeve Eaton, no?”
It’s my turn to nod now. I feel my face warm just the tiniest bit, my breath almost catching my throat. I guess it isn’t a surprise that Dr. Milborough knows my face and name, though, because I’m a well-known lounge singer throughout The Sanctuary. Every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, I’m performing at one of the many nightclubs, bars, restaurants, or venues in the area. I’ve been featured in editorials and articles for The Islander Tribune, cut the ribbon at too many grand openings than I care to count, and I’m a judge for the Miss Teen Islander pageant every year, so yeah, I’d say that my face and name are recognizable enough.
“Good to meet ye,” Dr. Milborough says coolly. “Hear ye voice is like that of a songbird’s.”
I shrug. “I try.”
Dr. Milborough nods. “Well, suppose I’ll see you around, Miss Eaton. Have a nice one.”
“You too,” I reply, and with that, Dr. Milborough turns and walks away. He doesn’t pick up a bag of flour. He just…leaves.
For a second, I consider calling after him and telling him he forgot to get salt, but that sounds stupid. Besides, I feel like if I continue talking, I might just forget how to speak.
#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#tumblr#original character#original post#trends#trendingtopics#trendingnow#foryou#fypage#fyp#tumblr fyp
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here's a super silly snippet that's from a rough draft of my slasher (part of part one, not sure when the full thing will be out)
Dylan nodded and breezed past her father before descending the stairs. Miles felt himself smile as he watched his daughter and thought about how quickly she had grown up. It felt like she was born just yesterday, but now she was thirteen, and people were still telling her that she was the spitting image of Miles. Same wavy black hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. Same crooked smiles and heart-shaped faces. Miles never knew how to feel about such a statement, especially since he expected so much more from his daughter—and his son—-than he had ever expected from himself.
Not sure how to feel about it but at least it's something!
#creative writing#female writers#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#writing blog#on writing#writing stuff#writing things#writing is hard#writers and poets#original writing
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i had no idea her name was gloria whatttt (she was my favorite character and her monologue was SO real)
“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.
You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?
You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.
You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.
You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.
You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.
You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.
You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.
You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!
You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!
You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.
I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.
And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie
this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.
#barbie#barbie movie#barbie 2023#the barbie movie#barbie the movie#barbie movie 2023#feminism#patriarchy#women#double standards
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update: just talked to the creative writing bot on character.ai and now im feeling extra inspired so maybe i'll upload a little snippet ;)))
the feminine urge to write a slasher with a morally gray main character who is a little too trigger-happy is consuming all my waking thoughts
#writers on tumblr#creative writing#original writing#female writers#writeblur#writeblr#writing community#writing blog#morally grey characters#my writing#writing wip#my wips
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this is so cute tho like i love this
do you guys ever think about dying? ✨
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the feminine urge to write a slasher with a morally gray main character who is a little too trigger-happy is consuming all my waking thoughts
#writers on tumblr#creative writing#writing#my writing#writeblr#writerscommunity#female writers#writers and poets#morally grey characters#morally grey men
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