#writer

[decemberwinter]

“why do you ship them? I thought the ship wasn’t canon?” bro we’re talking about fictional characters, who don’t actually exist in real life, from a media that focuses solely on fictional events that are not real either. so what if these two made-up characters didn’t kiss in their source material? they have lots of nasty gay sex on archive of our own and thousands of novel length slow burn enemies to lovers fics written about them. the fanon content at this point far exceeds the whole canonical franchise. the problem isn’t “it’s not canon” the problem is that you don’t allow yourself to let go of canon and enjoy the wonder of fan contents that are just as good / valid

[zonadisconforto]

Write for yourself. You are the only reader that matters.

if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

[terriblesoup]

A hand to hold

AN: I am starting to enjoy writing about sylus fluffy fics, is this blog going to be a sylus/politics one lmao?

Sylus never thought much about hands. He had used his own for battle, for fixing what was broken, for closing doors he never intended to open again. They were tools, nothing more. And yet...

She reached for his so easily. Without hesitation, without thought. A light touch as she spoke, a fleeting press of fingers against his palm when she laughed, a gentle tug when she wanted to show him something.

It was never deliberate, never meant to be anything at all. It was just her way. As natural as breathing, as unthinking as the way she brought warmth wherever she went.

And for a long time, he did not think much of it, either. Not at first.

Until one day, she didn’t.

It was a small thing, truly. They walked side by side, as they always did, through the marketplace lined with color and life. The scent of fresh bread wove through the air, children ran between stalls with wild laughter, and merchants called out promises of wares finer than any before them.

He should have been paying attention to any of these things. He should have been listening to her voice as she talked about something...what was it? A festival? A book she wanted to find? He wasn’t sure. Because all he could think about was that her hand had not found his. Not once.

She gestured as she spoke, hands alive with animation, but they never brushed against his own. Never curled around his wrist or slipped into his palm, thoughtless and easy. And it was then, in the absence of it, that he realized.

He missed it.

The thought was strange, unwelcome. He had never needed such things before. A hand to hold. A touch to tether. And yet, there was a hollowness where her warmth had always been. A quiet sort of ache, one he did not have the words to name.

He clenched his fist, as if that might somehow stop the feeling. He told himself it didn’t matter. But when she finally did reach for him again—later, when she pulled him toward a shop window, exclaiming over something utterly ordinary—he felt the world slide back into place.

And he knew, with a slow and sinking certainty, that he had never stood a chance.

______________________________

She never really thought about it, the way she reached for him. It was something that simply was, as natural as letting sunlight spill across her skin or tilting her face into the wind.

Sylus was always so composed, so sharp-edged and careful, like a blade too wary of cutting anything too deeply. But he never pulled away. Never tensed, never looked at her like she was something unwelcome.

So she kept reaching.

It wasn’t until that day in the market that she noticed it; that quiet sort of stillness, the way he seemed distracted by something just out of reach. His jaw tight, his hands tucked into his coat, his gaze distant, unreadable.

She had paused, unsure. Had she done something? Said something? But nothing had changed, not really. She had only-

Ah.

She had not reached for him.

She almost laughed at herself, at the ridiculous realization. But something about the way he stood there, tense in a way that had nothing to do with battle or calculation, stopped her.

So, on a whim, she reached for him again. Let her fingers slip into his, let her warmth press against his palm, the way she always had.

And there! There it was. The way his breath eased, the way something unspoken settled into place, the way his fingers curled around hers, as if he had been waiting.

He did not say anything. Neither did she.

But in that small, quiet moment, she understood.

So she held on, just a little longer.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto

[wherechaoswins]

Me: "I'll just write a short fic before bed." Also me at 3 AM: accidentally creates a 300k-word saga with intricate world-building and emotional devastation. 😭✍️

[applepiealopecoid]

colors in writing

black — black, shadow, jet black, ebony, crow, charcoal, coal, oil, raven, ink, onyx, soot, pitch black, obsidian, midnight

brown — brown, mocha, peanut, coffee, dirt, cedar, cinnamon, chocolate, brunette, pecan, wood, fudge, grizzly bear

red — red, blood, wine, cherry, apple, brick, crimson, ruby, scarlet, strawberry, maroon, rose

orange — orange, tangerine, fire, tiger, carrot, apricot, marmalade, citrus, pumpkin, basketball orange, ginger, deep saffron

yellow — yellow, blonde, blond, pineapple, butter, lemon, mustard, banana, corn, honey, gold

green — green, sage, lime, chartreuse, grass, fern, leaf or leafy, basil, pear, clover, green apple,

blue — blue, cobalt, sky, lapis, blueberry, azure, diamond, navy, royal blue, denim, cornflower blue, lobelia blue, river, ocean, lake, pool blue, sonic

indigo —indigo, deep indigo, royal indigo,

purple — amethyst, lilac, periwinkle, orchid, grape, hyacinth

violet — violet, french violet, pure violet

pink — pink, rose, salmon, fuschia, hot pink, bubblegum pink, cotton candy pink

white — white, feather, paper, bone, snow, pearl, eggshell, cloud, dove

[squeegin]

👍

Writing Description Notes:

Updated 9th September 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

[write-on-world]

[s1rawb3rry]

blond jake makes me feral...

[novlr]

It's ok to keep it simple

Simple is often best, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself to use vocabulary beyond what you are comfortable with.

Use a thesaurus to find the right word, not just a fancy one. If a word feels unnatural in context, you’re not comfortable with using it, or it disrupts the flow, it’s probably not the best choice.

Always prioritise clarity and voice over variety. Sometimes, the simplest word is the strongest.

[ameliathornromance]

I missed Tumblr national holiday Julius Caeser was stabbed day!

Have this reblog to make up for it!!!

Also regular posts will be back next week - I needed a break from writing for a bit :)

Thank you for understanding!

[glassonthewall]

new idea struck me like an erratic butterfly what am i to do

[terriblesoup]

Passing through

A/N: I was watching pride and prejudice because of course I was, and I wanted to write this because of one specific line.

as always, fluff.

Sylus wasn’t supposed to stay this long.

It had started with something simple, an excuse, really. He had meant to return a book he borrowed, just a quick visit, nothing more. But she had smiled when she saw him at the door, eyes bright with that soft kind of happiness that made his chest feel strange, and somehow, that quick visit had stretched into hours.

The afternoon had been slow and golden, the kind of day that felt suspended in time.

She had been making tea when he arrived, the scent of honey and citrus lingering in the air, wrapping around him like a welcome. Her apartment was small but warm, cluttered in a way that made it feel lived-in. There was a blanket draped over the couch, a stack of books precariously leaning against a windowsill, a mug left half-forgotten on the kitchen counter.

He liked it here. More than he should.

It was raining by the time she pulled him into the kitchen, insisting he help with lunch. Sylus didn’t argue, though his version of “helping” mostly involved watching her move around the space with practiced ease, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned loosely.

She told him stories while she cooked, unprompted, effortless, like it was second nature.

"Did I ever tell you about my upstairs neighbor?" she asked at one point, slicing through a bell pepper.

Sylus, leaning against the counter, shook his head.

"Oh, you're going to love this one." She grinned. "They once blew up their kitchen trying to impress someone."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Blew it up?"

"Not literally. But close enough. They wanted to cook a romantic dinner, except they didn’t actually know how to cook, so they ordered takeout and tried to make it look homemade."

Sylus smirked. "And?"

She set down the knife, already laughing. "They thought the meal needed a little something extra to seem authentic. So they put some garlic in a pan, except they had no idea what they were doing. Somehow, they managed to set the entire thing on fire."

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh. "Rookie mistake."

"Oh, it gets worse. They panicked and threw water on it. You can imagine how that went."

He could. The flames must have shot up, smoke billowing out of the windows.

"Something actually flew out of their apartment," she continued. "A toaster. Out the window. Just-gone."

Sylus blinked. "Why would a toaster-"

"I have no idea!" She grinned, shaking her head. "To this day, it remains a mystery."

She turned back to the stove, stirring something in the pan. He watched her for a moment, the way she smiled to herself, the way she enjoyed telling these stories.

She made the simplest things feel full.

And Sylus, who was never one to linger, who always had one foot out the door, found himself staying.

The rain turned heavier in the afternoon, hammering against the windows, washing the city into a watercolor blur.

She made a space for them on the couch, piling blankets and insisting that bad weather was an excuse to be cozy. Sylus had rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.

They played chess. Well...Tried to.

She got distracted halfway through, stacking the pieces instead of making actual moves.

"You realize this isn't the goal, right?" Sylus asked dryly, watching as she carefully balanced a knight on top of a bishop.

"It's my goal," she countered, fully focused. The tower wobbled dangerously.

Sylus smirked and very deliberately nudged the table.

The pieces toppled. She gasped in betrayal. "Sylus!"

He leaned back, satisfied.

She huffed, nudging his arm. "You're terrible."

"You were asking for it."

"That’s debatable," she muttered, but she was smiling as she started picking up the fallen pieces.

The hours stretched. The rain softened.

She read aloud to him, voice lilting, warm. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until she nudged him with her foot. "Are you falling asleep?"

"No."

She laughed softly, not calling him out on the lie.

The world outside faded.

Inside, it was quiet.

Inside, it was safe.

By the time Sylus finally stood to leave, it was late.

The rain had stopped hours ago. The city beyond her window was quiet, the streets slick with silver light. He reached for his coat, draping it over his arm, turning toward the door.

And then-

"So soon?"

He turned back.

She was still curled up on the couch, knees tucked under her, book resting in her lap. The glow from the nearby lamp cast her in gold. She wasn’t pleading, wasn’t even really asking. Just looking at him with wide, expectant eyes.

As if he had never really planned to leave.

Sylus swallowed, fingers tightening slightly on the doorknob.

He was good at leaving. It was second nature, slipping away before things became too real, before anyone could ask him to stay.

But she wasn’t asking.

She was just waiting.

She tilted her head. "Stay."

Not a demand. Not a request. Just a truth.

Like she had already decided he belonged here.

Sylus hesitated.

Then his grip on the doorknob loosened. His coat slipped from his arm, landing in a quiet heap on the chair beside him.

She smiled, soft, knowing. And without another word, she patted the empty space beside her.

He sat down.

Just for a little longer.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/n: I feel like I should do a pride and prejudice au for a fic, a bit long maybe.

[cottoncandyswirl828]

🥹

YOU’RE STILL A WRITER IF:

you don’t write every day or every week

you haven’t been able to write in a few months

this is your first story or your hundredth 

you never finish a book 

you are completely unpublished

All you gotta do is write!

[angeluvvs]

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: first date by blink-182

a/n: based on the rec "Natalie x shy reader dating fluff" @ashtonslefb0ob

content: secret relationship ooo, just straight fluff (as per request, i got you, babe), just a tad bit of angst, nightmares, 1.5k words

sweet secret / natalie scatorccio

now, since when did you ever care about soccer before? and what in the hell made you start? well, the answer is currently weaving a ball between her legs as she laughs on the field, lines of sheen sweat covering her forehead.

one of her signature cocky laughs falls from between her lips as she ends up kicking the ball past van, straight into the goal.

you had become assistant to misty, always helping out with setting up the field and coming along to away games as an honorary equipment manager. all for your girl.

"jesus, nat. again?" taissa says from the edge of the field, panting as she comes closer to nat, who was absolutely beaming at the third goal she made in a row.

she shrugged, fiddling with the ring on her finger that you had given her. "i just have my good luck charm on me today." her words are punctuated by a smile and a wink to you in the bleachers. and it's safe to say you are absolutely preening at the attention.

after about fifteen more minutes of watching her practice, coach martinez calls it for the day, and she immediately makes her way over to you.

"hey, baby." she whispers, leaning in close enough that only you could hear her. "how'd i do?"

your entire body is practically thrumming at the proximity and the gravelly rasp of her voice. it was one of your favorite things about her, how she always managed to just sound good. "mhm, you were great, nat."

she smiled, her fingers trailing over the cool edge of the bleachers, the space between you two growing smaller and smaller with each passing second. "just great? come on, you can do better than that, doll."

if you were blushing before, it was about ten times worse now. your fingers fall to your lap, messing with the hem of your pants as you glare at her through your brows, silently begging her to knock it the hell off. "you were phenomenal," you said through a smile, seeming to please her as she leaned away from you and grabbed her bag, plucking your fingers straight out of your lap and tugging you down the bleachers.

just like every day, nat walks you home (like a sweetheart, might i add). her hand is interlinked with your own, in typical 'best friend" fashion, of course. no one knows yet about the two of you being together, but she swears that she will tell people eventually. eventually just seems years away whenever you have to hide your love for one of the best things that's ever happened to you.

"so, the party tonight, are we all set to go?" she asks, her voice pulling you from the momentary wandering your mind had become so accustomed to.

a frown etches onto your lips, a gentle sigh falling from between your teeth. this was one of the many joys of high school for most, but for you? it was a patriarchal nightmare. and before you could even begin to voice your complaints, natalie beats you to it.

"we don't have to go," she reassures, which immediately sparks a rambling from you.

"nat, no--" that she is infinitely quick to cut off.

"it's fine, babe. we can have a sleepover at your place." she says, eyes coated with thick, smudged eyeliner meeting your own in the most sympathetic way possible. she knows how bad those parties can be for you and even feels slightly bad she had pushed to go to one with you in the first place. "we can watch some shitty romcom and make out and have the best night of our lives, no party included."

her words elicit a small warmth blooming in your chest, the tug of her hand in yours grounding you as you offer a small nod. "okay."

the copy of bound that you borrowed from your parents is finishing up as you pull away from nat, breathing heavily and laughing at some stupid comment she made. both of you are in a set of pjs you let her borrow, the bright colors looking way too good on her.

you sigh and check your clock on the side of the bed, seeing that it was well past 1 in the morning.

"shit," you mumbled, picking up the half-empty bowl of popcorn and bringing it to the kitchen as she followed, her steps ever so slightly hinting at a tired linger.

her arms wrap around your waist as you dump out the rest of the popcorn, nuzzling her face into your neck with a gentle murmur. "you're so soft."

a giggle releases from your chest, rolling your eyes as the bowl is forgotten entirely, and she drags you right back to your room. you could never get too far away from her. she shoves you down onto the bed, draping all of her limbs over your own, small kisses pressed to your neck as she mumbles something about being tired.

the peace of such a domestic moment has you feeling the same way, placing a gentle kiss on her head as you both drift into sleep.

the next day, you two wake up and board the plane, both still feeling the aftereffects of your grogginess in full effect against your bodies. a sharp jolt of the plane has you feeling slightly more awake, anxiously eyeing nat.

"did you feel that?" you whispered, to which she replied with a soft mumble that it was okay and just continued to rub your hand more.

you nodded, looking out the window to see the plane slightly angled downwards. that's not normal. a moment later, a red light flashes above the head, the sound of the PA ringing out in a warning that something had malfunctioned. you stopped listening after those words. all that mattered was that the plane was going down. fast.

nat's words become muddied in your ear as you feel the steady descent grow quicker and quicker, green trees coming into view as oxygen masks drop down in front of you. you quickly fumble to put yours on, tears beginning to sprout in your eyes, as you pull natalie closer.

the impact is jarring, leaving you ever so slightly dazed and dizzy. you feel a tightness in your leg as you try to follow natalie out, her tugging you up out of your seat. only, you are stuck, fighting against the metal that holds you down as you scream, pleading for help.

the sound of your own ragged breathing wakes you up, a cold sweat dripping down your shirt as the realization comes to you: you're in bed. safe.

tears still overcome you, a sharp ache in your head forming as your heart does absolutely nothing to stop its frantic pounding against your chest. you feel a hand grip your wrist, that same familiar rasp filling your ears.

"breathe, baby, breathe," she instructs, her free hand going over your chest and rubbing it. "tell me five things you can see." she starts, coaching you through the panic as your eyes meet hers.

"i can see…" you start, swallowing the spit that accumulated in your throat. "you, the window… the bed, my room, and…" you stop for a moment, tears flooding your vision. she waits for you to finish, just brushing her hands against your skin. "and… my hoodie on the floor."

she smiles, whispering ever so softly to you. "good job, that was great. four things you can touch." she prompts.

"You..." you say with a smile, immediately flicking back to that frown that had set in your face. "the comforter, my shirt, and… and the pillow."

she continues this for a while, allowing you to acclimate back to what you remembered. she questions you for a moment, trying to find out what had you coiled so tightly.

"the plane… i had a dream that it… crashed." you admitted, tears ready to spring from your eyes once more. she shook her head, brushing her fingers against your cheeks.

"doll, i promise, that won't happen. i'll be there with you the whole time, i swear. we'll be alright." she reassures, cool eyes meeting your own in an ocean of sapphire. a new pang arises in your chest as you whisper delicately,

"when are we going to tell people about us?" you ask. the question seems to take her back a bit, eyes widening and fingers stilling on your skin. she sighs, nodding slowly.

"after nationals, love. after we win." she promised, fingers tightening around your wrist once more before gently linking with your own. "we'll be okay; we'll do it together."

and with that, she helps you lie down, cuddling you up into her chest. you fall asleep to the sound of her gentle breathing and the prospect that yes, you will be alright. just the two of you.

what's the worst that could happen?

if you are ever feeling anxious, that method is called the 5-4-3-2-1 method and it works so well at grounding people. please use it if you need to.

au revoir! have a great day, a great night, or a great life! <3

[knebellindemann]