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the-broken-pen · 11 months

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Hello, I saw from your introduction that you are hoping for an ask and I think I have a prompt for you: A villain who is tasked with poisoning the hero only to realize that the hero is their little sibling. You don't have to write it if you don't want to, but it came to me while working on my introduction and I thought you might enjoy it.

Anyway, have a good rest of your day. :)

This is such an awesome prompt, thank you so much!!

(Edit: part two)

The villain was a lot of things, but they weren’t one to use poison. They planned, they sabotaged, unleashed mind games and carefully tilted domino effects—but they didn’t use poison.

But some ostentatiously rich benefactor wanted the hero to die without the mess of broken buildings and bones, so they had paid off a higher up, who paid off someone else, until an envelope filled with a packet of poison ended up tucked into the villain’s hands.

So here they were, at a party, a vial of something toxic and deadly and shimmering tucked up their sleeve.

Someone bumped into them, muttering an apology, and they straightened their suit. It took two seconds to snag a champagne glass off a waiter’s tray, one to empty the vial into it, and four, to arrive at the hero’s side, grin fixed on their face.

“Having fun yet?”

The hero turned, blinking beneath a masquerade mask—wouldn’t do to reveal their identity, now would it—and smiled, slightly.

“Absolutely loads of it.”

The villain glanced at the table the hero stood at, all but abandoned, and hummed.

“Looks like it.”

The hero did nothing more than sigh, elbows resting on the standing table. Somewhere, the mayor laughed. The hero winced.

“Why don’t you go talk to him,” the hero gestured with their head. “He organized this for us to make peace, you know?”

The villain slid a baleful look at the center of the party.

“He organized it to parade us around like dogs.”

The hero simply went back to studying the half crumpled napkins.

The villain blew out a breath.

They nudged the glass of champagne towards the hero’s hand. The hero didn’t take it.

“Peace offering,” the villain urged. The hero gave something between a grimace and a frown, eyes darting between the villains face and the glass.

“Oh. I mean, uh—thank you, but really, I can’t—” the hero went to rub the back of their neck, and stopped halfway there.

“Too much of a goody goody for alcohol?”

When the hero didn’t rise to the bait and take the glass, the villain clucked their tongue. “Come now, it’s only champagne.”

This time, they took it, fingers hesitant, as if they had never held a champagne glass before.

Too trusting, their hero, with their wide eyes and still soft face.

The villain clinked their glasses, indicating for the hero to drink. The hero downed their glass whole—which they hadn’t expected but made this a lot easier—and coughed.

“It’s champagne, not whiskey,” the villain laughed, and the hero squinted at their now empty glass. “You have to admit this is a relatively nice bottle.”

The hero coughed once more, looking a little green.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had it before.”

“What, champagne?”

The hero shot them an unreadable look.

“Alcohol.”

The villain paused. “What are you, sixteen? You sound like my youngest sibling.”

The hero choked on a breath, face flushing slightly as they looked away.

“Strange comparison,” the hero said, voice slightly strangled, and the villain simply stared at them.

A moment later, they shoved off their elbows. “I should go, mingle or whatever—” the hero stopped, frowning, as they swayed slightly.

They made to raise a hand to their head, and simply stared at it as it shook.

The poison was fast acting, then.

“I—bathroom. I should—“ the hero’s hand dropped, and they took a stumbling step.

A moment later, the villain had an arm around their shoulders, guiding them through the crowd with an easy smile. They were light, shorter than the villain, and for that, the villain was grateful.

They were one step into the bathroom when the hero dropped like a stone, slamming into the side of a stall with violent thud.

“Shit,” the villain murmured. They clicked the lock, leaving them alone together. “They didn’t say it would be this fast.”

Really, they just wanted to make sure the hero’s power didn’t go off, decimating the entire building. The villain knew it could—and under their right mind, the hero would never let it. But while dying…

The hero let out a sob into the bathroom tile, and shadows began to trail their way across the floor, as if desperate.

Control of shadows was an expansive and brutal power, stealing thoughts, forming beasts, sending terror down spines in broad daylight. It was the one thing the hero and villain shared—the shadows, even if the hero was gentle and the villain was brutal in their usage of them.

That’s what made it so, so easy for the villain to scatter them from the hero’s grasp.

The hero shuddered, and managed to shove themselves upwards in time to vomit into the nearest toilet. The building shook around them, and the hero’s mask dissolved from their face.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t want you to die like this,” the villain admitted. “You deserve a valiant battle.”

The hero heaved again, and those shadows blasted outwards, as if on reflex. The villain tucked them away.

The hero managed an incredulous laugh.

“I didn’t think you would poison me.”

The villain blinked.

“You see too much good in people.”

The hero rested their head against the toilet, face still turned out of view.

“You hate poison,” they offered, and the villain hesitated.

The villain hated poison, yes, but there were very few people who knew that—one person who knew that, bearing the memory of small fingers swallowing pretty colored liquids and the number for poison control. Weeks in the hospital, their younger sibling’s hand clutched in theirs, as the villain watched them recover.

But the hero couldn’t know that; they had made sure nobody knew that.

The hero was just delirious, that was all.

“You seem to be grasping at straws.”

The hero laughed again, and it sounded like it tore something in their chest. “I forgot how much this hurts.”

The hero had been poisoned before?

“Hero—”

“It was never supposed to end like this.”

The villain took a step closer and the hero didn’t flinch, even though they undoubtedly sensed them.

“We’re on opposing sides, someone was bound to get hurt—“

“I never hurt you,” the hero shivered, and then retched once more.

“You’re a hero, you’re not supposed to.”

The villain took a step forward, until their shoes almost touched the hero’s sprawled legs, and the hero slumped further.

“I never caught you, either,” they murmured, and the villain frowned.

Something was wrong. They were missing something, a vital piece of information.

“I was supposed to keep you safe.”

The villain froze.

“Hero, what are you talking about—”

“I’m sorry,” the hero sobbed. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt. If I wasn’t your hero then someone else would be and they would hurt you and catch you, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t—“

The hero dragged a hand down the back of their neck, as if wiping off sweat, and their hand came away smothered with concealer.

The villain stopped breathing.

There, on the hero’s neck, half covered by foundation, was a birthmark.

A birthmark only one person carried, imprinted into every childhood memory and scrapbook photo the villain had.

The hero was still rambling, half desperate and half broken, but as soon as the villain touched them, their voice fell away.

They hauled the hero up, glancing desperately over their sweaty face, their unfocused and half delirious eyes, body shivering with pain. Those too trusting eyes latched onto the villains face, and the hero smiled. A smile the villain had been looking at for the past sixteen years. A smile that had never had a drink before. A smile that had been poisoned once, by a cleaning product under the sink. A smile the villain looked forward to seeing every day. A smile that belonged to the only person the villain had left.

“You were never supposed to poison me,” their sibling whispered—and collapsed into the villains arms.

(Part two)

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sweetarethediscords · 26 days

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It’s Slow Burn. It’s tedious trust turning into certain loyalty.

It’s deals made in desperation becoming unbreakable bonds.

It’s noticing, focusing, the subtle shift of light in their eyes, the shifting wrinkles that show in different smiles.

It’s bearing the sting to taste fleeting sweetness.

It’s careful words and cautious actions despite the ticking clock.

It’s holding back a hand to save their suffering.

It’s watching as the pain works its way through their bones.

It’s knowing that the smile you wish to give them, the kind words, would only lead to anguish.

It’s finding other ways to love them.

It’s endlessly searching for ways to relieve their agony and give them the adoration they deserve.

May it take days, or months, or decades. You’ll keep your devotion in a bottomless jar hoping someday they will drink from it, greedily, happily, sore throat eased from your efforts.

#the maiden of the barren rime #mina #sebastian #writblr #bookblr #mbr #writing #new books #slow burn #fantasy novel #fantasy romance #romantasy

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jane-alma · 7 months

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Writing advice for new writers

Some things that I wished I had been told when I started writing <3

1. Read, read, read:

Immerse yourself in the works of established authors across various genres. Reading not only exposes you to different writing styles and techniques but also helps you understand the fundamentals of storytelling. It broadens your vocabulary, sparks your imagination, and inspires your own writing.

2. Write regularly:

Make writing a habit. Set aside dedicated time each day or week to write, even if it's just for a short period. Consistency is key to improving your skills and developing your unique voice. Practice, experiment, and don't be afraid to make mistakes – it's all part of the learning process.

3. Embrace the editing process:

Writing is rewriting. Understand that your first draft is just the beginning. Editing and revising are crucial steps that transform your work into its best version. Be open to constructive feedback, whether from friends, writing groups, or professionals. Embrace the opportunity to refine your ideas, strengthen your prose, and polish your storytelling.

4. Find your writing environment:

Discover the environment in which you feel most comfortable and creative. Experiment with different settings, and create a space that inspires and motivates you to write. Surround yourself with objects, images, or music that enhance your creativity.

5. Explore different genres and styles:

Don't limit yourself to a single genre or writing style. Experiment with different forms of writing – from short stories to poetry, fiction to non-fiction. Trying new genres and styles challenges you as a writer, expands your skills. I also find this really helpful If I feel stuck in a project. Whenever I feel really stuck, I like to open a new document, or even get a pen and some paper and just write something completely different. It might just be a silly little poem, or maybe I’ll just write down what I’ve been doing that day. Just something to get out of my head, and then I can get back to my project with a clearer mind.

6. Write what you love:

Write about topics that genuinely interest and excite you. When you're passionate about your subject matter, your enthusiasm will shine through in your writing. Whether it's fantasy, romance, history, or science fiction, let your love for the topic fuel your creativity and captivate your readers.

7. Trust your voice:

Each writer has a unique voice, perspective, and story to tell. Embrace your individuality and trust your instincts. Don't compare yourself to others or try to imitate someone else's style. Your voice is what sets you apart and makes your writing authentic.

8. Enjoy the process:

Above all, enjoy the process of writing. Writing is a creative outlet, a form of self-expression, and a journey of self-discovery. Embrace the ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, and savor the joy of bringing your ideas to life through words.

And most importantly of all: Remember, every writer starts somewhere, and like any other craft, it takes time, practice and dedication. Happy writing y’all! <3

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lyralit · 4 months

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yeah the story sucks but you gotta keep writing anyway

#and not just writing #it's only a week into the new year and i'm crumbling it feels like #lyralit #writerblr #writers block #writing #writblr #creative writing

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raineandsky · 11 days

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#109

When the doorbell rings, the hero’s kind of hoping it’s the pizza delivery guy.

They open the door to find, tragically, not the pizza delivery guy.

“Uh,” the villain says, “hi.”

The hero isn’t entirely sure what sequence of words would best fit this scenario. “Hi?” is the best they can do.

The villain shuffles on their feet awkwardly. A pause hangs between them, filled by the distant roar of the city beyond. “I thought you’d ask why I’m here,” they say eventually.

“I’m more concerned about how you’re here.”

A smile threatens the corners of the villain’s mouth. “We know where all you heroes live.” The smile fades into nothing again. “Or just I know, now, I guess.”

“Okay.” The hero squints at the villain uncertainly. “I’ll entertain you. Why the hell are you standing outside my door?”

“No one wants to be a villain anymore. Everyone quit.” The villain’s face contorts into some unreadable expression. “It’s just me.”

That doesn’t sound right. From the villain’s slight grimace, they know it too. “Everyone… quit villainy,” the hero repeats.

“There’s nothing to gain from it anymore. We had a vote and I was the only one who wanted to keep going.” The villain’s gaze dips to their hands as if they hold answers. “They left me everything, but… I can’t do it all on my own. So I’m turning myself in.”

The hero stares at the villain for a long moment. “Even [Supervillain].”

“Especially [Supervillain].”

The hero steps aside with a sigh. The villain looks like they’re being invited into a pit of wolves. “You want me to come into your house?”

“My handcuffs are in my living room cabinet and I don’t trust you standing out there. It’s cold, anyway.”

The villain closes the door behind them in an uncharacteristic show of politeness as the hero digs through their drawers. They’re wiping their shoes on the mat when the hero gets back, cuffs in hand.

The villain holds their hands out and the hero clicks the cuffs around their wrists. It’s almost too easy. The question is sitting on the tip of their tongue.

“What’s the catch?”

The villain doesn’t seem surprised by the question. They shrug halfheartedly. “Dunno.” They glance about for inspiration. “All the others have gone into hiding, I guess. You have me, but everyone else will probably evade you for the rest of time.”

“Much like they already do.” The hero manoeuvres them to the sofa in the living room, giving them a nudge to make them actually sit down. “You make it sound like you’ve been left in charge of the entire criminal organisation.”

The barking laugh the villain lets out is entirely fake. Too sharp, too short. “I have.”

“So villany will collapse without you.”

The villain shrugs again, the motion laden with effort. “Not like anyone else was willing to carry that burden—and I’m not either, hence why I’m, y’know…” They gesture vaguely at themself, in cuffs, in the hero’s living room.

The villain goes, villainy is defeated. No more villains, no more big crimes, no more heroes. Everything the agency has worked to be would collapse. The hero would be out of a job. It'd be over.

Yet here the villain is, giving everything up, taking the entirety of villainy down with them. The sole survivor of a shipwreck and wishing they’d gone down with the ship. A ship they don’t seem to realise the hero is on too.

The doorbell rings again, and the hero leaves the villain carefully settling on the sofa to answer it. They return with a giant grin on their face and a giant pizza box in their hands.

“Let’s worry about all this afterwards,” the hero says brightly. They brandish the box at the villain in the hopes of tempting them. “Want some?”

The tempting works; the villain reaches for a slice. “What a last meal.”

The hero sets the box on the coffee table as they flop back on the sofa. “I don’t know, [Villain],” they say with a smile, “I don’t think it has to be.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #yall i have been BALLIN #my burnout isnt completely gone but its a lil better than it has been #the weekend was productive. got three (3!!) new stories done for yall AND I FINISHED WRITING MY BOOK WOOOOOOOOOOOO #and it was nice!!! ive missed writing for so long but i had no ideas #and yet here we are :) the burnout may be strong but by god i have a fire extinguisher

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marlynnofmany · 6 days

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Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr #very excited about the Patreon you guys #that free tier didn't use to be an option #but for anyone who'd like to catch the new story each time one goes up #that's the place to go #the higher tiers have additional cool things #more details to come

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novlr · 7 months

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How can I end a chapter without it being too abrupt?

Writing a novel is like any craft. Each element contributes to the whole piece, and each chapter forms a part of your narrative with its own arc. However, creating a seamless transition between chapters can be challenging for even the best writers. The end of a chapter needs to be satisfying, yet also tantalizing to keep readers flipping the page. So, how do you end a chapter without being too abrupt?

End with a cliffhanger

Ending a chapter with an unexpected twist, a sudden revelation, or an unresolved situation that leaves readers hanging in suspense is the essence of a good cliffhanger. The key to a successful cliffhanger is to write it in a way that feels organic to your story. A well-crafted cliffhanger triggers curiosity, keeps the narrative tension high, and ensures that your readers remain invested and eager to read on.

Introduce the next point of action

Introducing the next point of action is a powerful way to maintain the pace of your story and end a chapter. It’s as simple as revealing a new character, event, or conflict that will take centre stage in the forthcoming chapter. For example, your character could receive a mysterious letter, stumble upon a secret door, or meet a stranger with riveting news. This gives your readers a clear idea about the next focus but keeps them intrigued to learn more.

Pose a question

Posing a question is a simple way to end a chapter that feels natural. The question could be literal or metaphorical. It could be a question in a character’s mind or a question about the events unfolding in the story. For instance, your character might wonder, “Who was the mysterious stranger?” or “What’s behind that secret door?” This method leaves your readers curious, sparking their imagination as they try to guess the answer. Remember, a good question doesn’t just ask — it hints at a deeper story.

Develop your characters

Concluding a chapter with character development can provide depth to your story and make your readers feel more connected to them. A character might go through a significant change or realisation. For example, your protagonist could realize they’ve been lied to their entire life, or a side character could decide to leave their past behind and start fresh. These kinds of character moments make your readers more invested in their journey.

Use Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is a narrative device that involves giving hints about what will happen next in the story. You can do this subtly by dropping minor details that hint at future events. For example, you might describe a looming storm cloud on the horizon, foreshadowing a coming conflict or problem. Alternatively, you might make a direct statement about future events. For instance, a character might say something like, “I have a bad feeling about this.” But remember, don’t give away too much. Keeping some level of mystery is important to maintain the reader’s interest.

Reveal something

A revelation at the end of a chapter can make your readers more eager to keep reading. It could involve unveiling a new piece of information about a character, story arc, or mystery that shifts the reader’s perspective. For example, a truth about a character’s past could be revealed, or the discovery of a hidden key could introduce a new mystery. Revealing something important can cause a dramatic turn in your story and can make your readers excited to find out what happens next.

Emotional closure

If you’ve had a lot of fast-paced action, then sometimes you need to give your readers a moment to breathe by letting your characters reflect on their feelings. For instance, you might end a chapter with a character solving an issue, realizing an important truth, or simply having a moment of introspection. This allows readers to connect with them emotionally, to understand their feelings, and to see their growth. Emotional closure provides a moment of calm before your readers dive into the next chapter.

Develop your theme or subtext

Developing your story’s theme or subtext at the end of a chapter might involve reinforcing the central theme of your story or introducing a new idea that adds another layer of depth. For instance, if your story is about the struggle for freedom, you could end a chapter with a character making a decision that signifies their pursuit of liberty. This not only helps readers understand the broader context and message of your story but also leaves them pondering these ideas as they move on to the next chapter.

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wowbright · 5 months

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Why can't this already be written and downloaded to everyone's brains so I can talk about it with people now?

^ me when writing or thinking about writing fanfic

#mormon!klaine news #writer problems #fandom #fanfic #writing #writblr

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katy-l-wood · 6 months

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"The Pits" is releasing everywhere on October 31st!

And it has a shiny new wide release cover! You can pre-order it wherever books are sold, and there's a bunch of links to different shops on my website. (There's also a couple affiliate links in there, if you want to buy in a way that will give me a few extra bucks. 🥰)

Check out the book trailer below:

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No one goes into the Pits. No one understands the magic of the Pits. For those who try, there are consequences. - When Clarabella's girlfriend Emilia goes missing Clarabella tracks down the only person who can help: her outlaw older sibling Royal, who she hasn’t seen in three years. Royal knows more about the strange magic of the world than anyone, more than they should. Magic Clarabella doesn’t believe in. Not until the path to find Emilia leads deep into the mysterious and magical Pits that stretch along the spine of the continent, forcing her to rethink everything she ever believed. But once Clarabella, Royal, and Royal's gang enter they discover Royal can no longer leave. Now Clarabella has to choose who she loves enough to save: Royal, or Emilia?

Pre-order now!

#The Pits #Book Release #New Book #Bookblr #Writeblr #Writblr #My Writing #Signal Boost #Youtube

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magdamateo · 7 months

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televisionjester · 2 months

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writeblr intro

hello! i'm a college student who got into writing as a hobby and finally decided to make a writeblr after only privately writing for a while because i wanted to see more stories and meet more writers! i love sci-fi and supernatural elements (especially if the supernatural is in a modern setting!!) or stories that involve reluctant protagonists, enemies to lovers, or unreliable narrators but i'll read anything and everything if it catches my interest more info about my own wips:

Reverence Project

genre: fantasy, horror

A still unnamed project that explores the consequences of worshiping normal people to literal godhood. Simon Lacoste is a quiet, shy historian who simply wants to study the Gods as a distant observer, avoiding his heavily involved religious family in the process. This is not what happens. Shortly after finding out a secret that he shouldn’t have but had no intention of sharing, Simon finds himself stuck in between power grabs and petty squabbles of the Gods. He just wanted to record history, not make it.

All Roads Lead Home

genre: action, enemies to lovers

A story about grief and self-destruction that follows Damon Miller, ex-mercenary sniper turned reckless competitive race car driver through a series of unfortunate events and an accident involving his late brother. Once he begins to put his life back together, he (wrongly) assumes that the past he tried to shove down as much as possible will stay down.

Oasis Project

genre: sci-fi

The last and least developed project, the Oasis project is a story about girl named Nedra who worked extremely hard for the prestigious position of a botanist working in the Oasis that keeps her desert kingdom alive and thriving. Heavy worldbuilding with a found family.

#i kept putting this off but anyway i'm very excited to meet new people and read new stories #writeblr intro #writeblr #writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writblr #writerblr #my posts

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the-broken-pen · 5 months

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If I’m not traumatizing people on the internet am I even a writer

#writing #writing community #new on writblr #writblr #young writer #lowkey I’ll get notifications that people are liking my posts and I’m like hold up I posted that???!?#existence is turbulent and I am a goose #writer thoughts #writers of tumblr #writers #not writing

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byoldervine · 30 days

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Tips For New Writers

1. You ARE a writer. If you write fanfiction, you’re a writer. If you write one-shots, you’re a writer. If you only write for fun, you’re a writer. If you’ve never finished anything, you’re a writer. If you haven’t written in a while, you’re a writer. If you think up the most amazing plot but can never write down any words for it and you think it always sucks, trust me, you’re definitely a writer

2. Your first draft will never be good. It’s not the starting point that makes a story good, it’s the editing, so don’t try to strive for perfection in the first draft - you’ll only burn yourself out and get disheartened because you’re comparing the first draft of your story to the finished products of others, and they’ve likely undergone at least three edits MINIMUM

3. Never delete decent-sized chunks of your story. Retrying a sentence or even maybe a paragraph is alright, but if it’s anything more sizeable than that then you want to copy/paste it into a different document. I like to call it my ‘writing graveyard’ - you might be able to come back to it later on or find ways to tweak it that better fits the current narrative. And even if not, you can look back on it and see how far you’ve come

4. “Writing is a habit”. All this means is that, if you have some kind of consistent writing goal, even if it’s just 100 words every week, that’s still a guaranteed 100 words every week. A consistent writing practice means consistent progress will be made, rather than occasional spikes in productivity followed by long periods of no motivation. Just figure out what you can comfortably commit to without it feeling more like a chore than a fun activity

5. Make backups. If you work online, make sure there are backups of your work so it doesn’t get lost somehow. I’ve been writing all my first draft chapters in separate documents so far so at worst I’ll only lose one chapter if something bad happens, but I’ve also got everything backed up just in case

Best of luck in your writing projects!

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storytimewriting · 1 month

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you gave me a sense of comfort in the uncertainty

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abbiemhart · 9 months

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the future is terrifying

when you cannot remember the past.

#creative writing #depressing poem #love poem #love poetry #new poets society #on writing #original poem #poems #poems and poetry #poems and quotes #writing #writers and poets #writblr #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #female writers #female poets #poetic #poetsandwriters

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raineandsky · 6 months

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Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

Love Ur writing!!

aaaaaaa this was such a fun idea - im absolutely in love with this lil dynamic!! hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it :D

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tw blood, death

Animals. That’s all the agency ever saw the villains as. Animals they could poke and push and test and break into nothing.

So when the jail’s power-dampeners fail, the villains are more than happy to make like the tigers are out of their cage.

The villain to the supervillain’s right is burning the lock on his cell door. The villain on his left has fazed straight through hers. The supervillain steps up to the iron bars across his own cell to look beyond.

VIllains are flooding the corridor, breaking for the stairs one by one. “You,” he snaps as someone passes, and they thankfully slow down. “Open the door.”

Escape might be tantalising, if the villain’s quick glance to the stairs is anything to go by, but no villain ignores a supervillain. They rest their hands against the door for a moment, their brow knitted in concentration for a moment, before the lock clunks open.

They pull the door outward as the supervillain steps into the corridor, waiting impatiently. “Thank you,” the supervillain says shortly.

The villain wastes no time continuing their great escape, chasing the tails of the other villains. Golden light flashes against the walls of the stairwell like fireworks, panicked shouting drifting from above, dull thumping as inevitable bodies hit the floor. The superhero strolls up the steps to take in the carnage the villains are wreaking on the pristine agency.

Gunfire showers the corridor in the light of heaven itself. Agency guards are backed up against the one exit. Most of the villains have already pushed past them into the room beyond, but those who haven’t are springing on them from all directions with fire or ice or electricity or nothing but hatred.

He can see someone familiar through the chaos, the eye of the storm. His gun sprays death, his face twisted into a mix of anger and fear, his eyes set on the villain currently making her way towards him with palms of steaming water.

Almost all of the villains have passed through. Most guards are either lying in a puddle of crimson blood or following the flock into the next room. There’s two of them—his Favourite, and someone he couldn’t care less about.

The villain’s water flicks from her fingers and sprays the guard, earning a pained cry and a cringe away from her. His attention falls to the scalding cutting through his skin, and in one fatal move the villain swipes the gun from his hands.

The supervillain doesn’t have time to intervene. The other guard swings his weapon to the villain, and with a flash of golden light she drops to the ground. The gun clatters to the floor with her.

The two of them heave a breath like they’re free, and the supervillain sees his chance. He sweeps up the gun from the floor, shouldering his Favourite out of the way, before turning it on the other guard and opening fire. The force of the bullets shove the guard into the wall behind him, and his descent to the floor is accompanied by a nauseating streak of red.

The supervillain turns his gaze to the last guard, his Favourite, the one who helped him from the day he got here. The one who saw past the animals and saw a person.

The guard returns his gaze with abject horror, defenceless, trapped. His eyes are wide, his back pressed into the wall, his mouth working in a desperate attempt at what is probably a beg for mercy.

The supervillain doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t have any. He grabs the guard’s arm, earning a startled squeak, tucking the gun under his arm. He can see the burns left on the man’s arm from the villain’s attack; small but undoubtedly painful. He lays a hand over them and the guard hisses and pulls in his grip, whether in pain or fear of pain he can’t tell.

His hand is cool—he can tell from the way the guard relaxes in his hold after a moment. The supervillain holds down a pleased smile. “That’s it,” he says smoothly. “Is that better?”

He lets go and the guard tips his gaze to his skin, unblemished and unharmed. Like the water never touched him at all. His mouth opens. Closes. His brow creases.

“Your power…” he tries after a moment, confused, “they never figured it out. They thought you’d have something violent.”

The supervillain throws him a smile, unhidden this time. “They never expected a healer at the head of evil, did they?”

The supervillain drags him along, following the path of bloodshed like a map. Some villains are still loitering—one of them slinks up to the pair with a grin. They inspect the guard closely for a moment before running the edge of their knife across his jaw in thought. He tries to shrink away but the supervillain’s grip on him holds fast.

“Oh, isn’t this one pretty?” the villain purrs. They give the blade a flick for emphasis, and the guard flinches as the edge cuts a crimson line into his cheek. “Can’t wait to show the agency what happens to good little boys like him.”

“No one touches him, understand?” the supervillain snaps coldly. “He’s with us.”

The villain scowls, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. “Oh, we keepin’ pets now, boss?”

“We don’t keep pets, [Villain].” His gaze turns to the guard for a moment, a touch softer, almost thankful. “They’re not animals.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #requests #annablogsposts #thank you for the request!!!#honestly loved this idea so much #i dont think i fully did it justice cause it was getting long but GOD its delicious #as always requests are open friends i am always down for new exciting ideas

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