#writers block cures

[blue-eyed-author]

Some of my writer’s block cures:

Handwrite. (If you already are, write in a different coloured pen.)

Write outside or at a different location.

Read.

Look up some writing prompts.

Take a break. Do something different. Comeback to it later.

Write something else. (A different WIP, a poem, a quick short story, etc.)

Find inspiring writing music playlists on YouTube. (Themed music, POV playlists, ambient music, etc.)

Do some character or story prompts/questions to get a better idea of who or what you’re writing.

Word sprints. Set a timer and write as much as you can. Not a lot of time to overthink things.

Set your own goals and deadlines.

Write another scene from your WIP. (You don’t have to write in order.) Write a scene you want to write, or the ending. (You can change it or scrap it if it doesn’t fit into your story later.)

Write a scene for your WIP that you will never post/add to your story. A prologue, a different P.O.V., how your characters would react in a situation that’s not in your story, a flashback, etc.

Write down a bunch of ideas. Things that could happen, thing that will never happen, good things, bad things.

Change the weather (in the story of course.)

Feel free to add your own.

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 64

The old castle stood silent amidst the whispering winds, its ancient stones holding tales of bygone eras. Inside, memories lingered like ghosts in the dimly lit corridors. A figure roamed the halls, tracing the steps of a journey that spanned centuries.

In a secluded chamber, faint echoes of laughter mingled with the shadows. Memories stirred as the figure entered, drawn to the remnants of a love long lost. Amongst the dust and faded dreams, a glimmer caught their eye - a solitary ring, forgotten yet cherished.

Tender thoughts turned to bitter regret as the figure reflected on a love shattered by cruel fate. How could they have been so foolish, to love so deeply in a world so cruel? The weight of grief pressed heavy upon their heart as they gazed upon the token of a love that once burned bright.

Suddenly, a rustle broke the silence, stirring the figure from their reverie. Clutching a broom for protection, they braced themselves for the unexpected. And there, amidst the shadows, stood the one they had mourned, their love returned from the depths of memory.

Words faltered as they embraced, a rush of emotion overwhelming their senses. Tears mingled as laughter bubbled forth, a bittersweet reunion in the hallowed halls of their shared history.

"Don't you dare leave me again," the figure whispered, holding their love close.

"I promise," came the soft reply, filled with longing and regret.

As they held each other, time seemed to stand still, suspended in a moment of fragile hope. But all too soon, the dream shattered, leaving the figure alone once more, tangled in the sheets of their bed.

Tears stained their cheeks as they awoke, the remnants of a dream fading like smoke in the morning light.

"Just a dream," they whispered, though the ache in their heart remained. And so, they carried on, haunted by the echoes of a love that transcended time.

[gothamxwattpad]

Writer’s Block

I talk about writer’s block A LOT and it’s probably pretty annoying to those who see it on my thread but everyone else who writes posts about it to so.

But my best solution, because it literally works for me EVERYTIME, is to take a few days off from writing in general and then sit back down with a blank notebook or computer screen and start working on something else.

So, I’ve daydreamed my original fanfic into a wide, probably impossible project to tackle, with lots of character, plot lines, abilities and spin offs that tell more of the whole story.

It’s why it’s called GothamX, because of the lack of better name, and because of how freaking massive it’s become and that’s why I’ve been struggling with writing it for the last four or so years. But I haven’t given up because this is my baby.

My current side project is a bit that would take place later on in the timeline, the return of a Wayne to Gotham City after Bruce Wayne and Batman disappeared.

It follows a young adult Wayne, Bruce’s son Theodore, who returns to Gotham City with plans to help those in great need, since his father abandoned Gotham and many suffered due to it.

Like Gotham’s youth, those stuck in Gotham’s foster care system. Gotham City has many street kids and many turn to crime for their own survival, I mean, who could blame them?

One of these street kids is a pink haired, blue eyed teen named, Aurora. She’s my main character in the original fic.

SPOILER ALERT!

Aurora is the daughter of Harley Quinn and the Joker, yes, another one of THOSE fanfictions. But hear me out, I’ve read A LOT of these fanfictions on Wattpad and most of them are literally the same story over and over and over. So, I decided since I want something different, I better create it for myself and other readers who feel the same.

(Dumping all of this is helping me with writers block)

GothamX starts with Aurora’s journey to unraveling Gotham’s past, how did she end up in Gotham’s broken system. She puts all the puzzle pieces together and becomes a beacon of hope and light for the street kids who follow her.

Sounds like an interesting story, right? I just need to get it written. And if taking the time to work on one of my many spin offs helps me write the damn thing, then I guess this is what I’m going to have to do.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

unexpected consequences

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, condoms breaking, pregnancy/breeding talk, unprotected p in v sex, established relationship, mention of marriage

“oh fuck, yeah.” you moan out, fingers gripping rafes shoulders. “right-right there.”

your moans are extra loud today, having been apart from rafe for nearly a week after he had business out of the country. rafe is just as pent up as you, thrusting harshly into your cunt to the chorus of his grunts.

“close.” rafe warns, but you could tell anyways by the swelling of his cock that he wouldn’t last long.

“oh my god, yes.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as your release pushes through your body, cumming with a final shout of your boyfriends name.

rafe drops his head into your neck as he cums inside of you, pushing as deeply as he can as your cunt pulses around him. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press soft kisses to his head while rafe pants through his orgasm, until you shift slightly and feel it inside of you.

“rafe, pull out.” you shove at his shoulder, causing him to look up in concern, but he slips his softening cock out.

“what is it baby?” rafe asks. you look down at the condom he always wears, where theres always a bit of white cum gathered at the tip, but this time it looks practically empty, like he just rolled it on.

“rafe.” you hit his shoulder, causing him to flinch and look down.

“wha-” rafe suddenly realizes the issue, rolling himself off the bed as he walks into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the condom and tell you what you already know is true.

“it broke.” rafe says when he comes out a moment later.

“i know.” you admit, shifting your hips from side to side again. “i can tell.”

“im so sorry baby.” rafe says with a sigh, laying on the bed next to you but not pulling you into his arms, not sure if you want to be touched.

“its okay.” you hum softly, mind still reeling. “you didn’t know.”

“what are we gonna do?” rafe asks, knowing you’re not on birth control due to affecting other medication you’re on.

“well, i can take a plan b in the morning…” you say quietly. 

“or.” rafe encourages you to continue, able to tell that you aren’t finished.

“or we could wait and see. i mean i probably won’t get pregnant just from one time, right?” you shrug.

“what about if it does take? and you’re pregnant?” rafe asks, looking at your tummy.

as if you’re thinking the same thing, you lay your hand over your stomach, knowing that even if you are pregnant there is nothing in there yet, but the thought alone has you rubbing gently over your skin. “i don’t know.” you admit.

“i want to keep it.” rafe blurts out. “if-if you are pregnant.” rafe can’t take not touching you any longer, pulling you close to him and tangling your limbs together.

“are you sure?” you raise your eyebrows. you think rafe would be an amazing father, knowing how protective he is of you, and how he strives every day to take even better care of you. “we are so young.”

“i love you. i want to be with you, i want a family with you. why not start now?” rafe questions. he won’t admit it to you yet, but he’s been thinking about taking the next step, having even gone ring shopping to see his options. “besides-” rafe smiles, “why are you trying to talk me out of it? you’ve always wanted kids.”

you grin back at him. “i know.” you let a giggle free, feeling giddy about the possibility. you’ve always wanted to become a mom, especially because you have so many younger siblings. “so, are we doing this?”

“yes.” rafe says definitively, pulling you in for a kiss, a comforting one that you truly need.

“oh my god, im so excited.” you break the kiss to mumble against his lips.

rafe nods in agreement, lowering a hand between your bodies to touch your stomach. “probably too early to start talking to your tummy, huh?” 

“definitely. i mean, we don’t even know if i’m pregnant, it may take a couple tries…” you trail off, hoping rafe gets your intention.

“well, i will just have to keep cumming inside you.” rafe shrugs. “in fact, we shouldn’t take any chances and i should fill you up again right now.”

rafes hand lowers from your stomach to your thigh as he grabs your flesh and pulls your leg over his hip, spreading your thighs for him as your cunt rubs up against his quickly hardening cock.

“rafe!” you shout with a laugh, but don’t stop him as he begins to grind his cock into your core.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[dysabria]

i was looking for a writing prompt about ghosts. so anyway guess i’ll just reinvent the hit youtube series ghost files starring ryan bergara and shane madej

[dreamkidddream]

Imagine how soft Lucifer would get if he woke up to MC looming over him and peppering his face with endless kisses. He'd melt into a happy little demon puddle while they tell him about all the little things he does that make them fall in love with him harder.

He'd spend the day grinning like a fool and making dumb little mistakes like walking into doors or overfilling his coffee cup because he's distracted.

Time to bring back soft!luci hours 😌 reader is gender neutral!

The brothers were wary of Lucifer this morning, and more than usual.

His smile was far too content this early- Hell, it was weird to even see a smile from him! They know that he’s not a morning demon, but to see him so wide awake and happy about was…unsettling.

They never knew of the special wake-up call you gave him. How you softly peppered his face with kisses, not even missing his scrunched nose or the lids of his tightly shut eyes. How gentle you caressed his cheeks while whispering how much you love him and all that he means to you.

It took all that was in him to get out of bed- even if the reason were to merely meet and return your kisses.

But his brothers or anyone else weren’t aware of that, and it only made them more leery of him. To have such a bright aura surrounding him was something everyone should be fearing- especially when he was making such simple mistakes. Signing paperwork in the wrong spot, knocking over his coffee, even finding himself being pranked by the Anti-Lucifer League.

Satan couldn’t even find it in himself to laugh or gloat in Lucifer’s mishaps because of how he wasn’t even affected by them. It left him and Belphie baffled when he just shook it off and continue smiling as if nothing happened.

While Lucifer was somewhat aware of people actively avoiding him, he welcomed it, and hoped that it continued for the rest of the day and throughout the night.

Because it meant that you could continue your session from this morning uninterrupted- and he wants to return the favor as soon as he could.

He wants you to know just how much you’re loved by him, and how much he keeps falling for you even more as each day passes.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Fuck it, I’m writing Merthur fluff.

(Writer’s block sucks)

[quillkiller]

microfic: effiebarty, 1.3k words, mature.

age gap (barty 22, effie 46), cheating, referenced abuse (barty’s father), mild sexual content

Barty huffed out a not-so-surprised laugh when his back hit the couch, looking up at the lust filled brown eyes that, in turn, were looking down at him. Christ, he thought. He was in way over his head. 

Nowhere else he'd rather be, though. 

It had been his fathers idea– to help out at the Potter’s. Maybe befriend Fleamont Potter’s only son, James Potter, the loud arrogant fucker. The most important task at hand, though, was to be at Mr. Potters side. Offer your assistance, his father said. Whatever he wants, and maybe something will become of you. 

Barty had expected Mr. Potter to open the goddamn gates to the pretentious fucking mansion he was living in, but instead he was met with the Missus. It was early in the morning and she had been wearing a mint green silk robe and not much else. Hair a little messy and unkempt, unimpressed look on her face. Twenty years Barty’s senior, at the very least. 

“Fuck me,” Barty had exhaled, inelegant and inappropriate. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but in his defense his father always did say he couldn’t beat him into a proper young man.

Certainly didn’t stop him from trying though. 

Mrs. Potter raised one single eyebrow, raised her coffee cup to her lips and watched him as his eyes followed the motion, and then stepped aside to let him in. She laughed, a quiet mischievous little thing, when his breath caught in his throat. 

“Fuck me,” he repeated through a breathy laugh. 

“Unlikely.” an amused Mrs. Potter said. 

Barty did whatever Mr. Potter told him to, which were all bullshit jobs that certainly wouldn’t help the bloody career he didn’t even care about in the first place. He brought him coffees, cleaned their giant fucking pool, ran errands– and on some, very rare, occasions he was to follow James around. Take notes, Mr. Potter said. 

Barty had punched people for a lot fucking less. 

It could’ve been worse, though. His anger simmered away immediately when he entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Potter already there, standing by the kitchen island. She’d pour him a cup of coffee and ask him how he takes it. She was a bloody goddess, too good for this house, in the early morning sun peeking through the large kitchen windows. 

Barty would say something stupid like: your husband is waiting for me. 

Mrs. Potter would grin and say: you’d rather drink your coffee with him? 

Fuck no, he’d laugh. He figured he could steal five minutes of the day, just to share them with the Missus of the house. Mr. Potter wouldn’t miss him, certainly. Maybe Barty would even survive this bullshit not-even-a-job without breaking something if Mrs. Potter would continue to indulge him. If she’d let his greedy eyes watch her. He felt like a stain in her presence, afraid to get too close and infect her with his filth. 

She stepped closer, entering his personal space, and raised the cup of coffee for him to grab. Their fingers brushed when he took it. She hadn’t flinched at the touch. Hadn’t wrinkled her nose in disgust. She let her fingers linger, just a little, before removing them. 

Good boy, she’d said. 

Barty nearly dropped the coffee cup on the floor.

Since then, she would always wait for him in the kitchen when he came down. Or at least he’d like to think she was waiting. For him. And when he was cleaning their pool, she’d come out and offer him a cold drink. Sometimes she’d stay, lower herself onto one of the tanning chairs with a book. Sneak a glance or two, and maybe, just maybe, Barty would throw his shirt off. Claiming it’s too bloody hot out. Maybe Mrs. Potter’s glances would increase after that.

Yeah, it could’ve been worse. 

“Why are you here, anyway?” Mrs. Potter asked one afternoon, outstretched on her tanning chair in a white silk robe and another book in her hands. She liked books. Maybe Barty would bring her one of his own someday. 

“Why are you?” Barty challenged, and fished a cigarette from out of his back pocket. He raised his eyebrows towards the older woman, as if to ask do you mind? 

Mrs Potter shrugged, “My husband wouldn’t like it if he knew,” 

Barty didn’t know which question she was answering, but he lit up the cigarette and brought it to his lips. Mrs Potter watched him do it. “And you?” he asked. 

Mrs. Potter laughed, a bright thing Barty wanted to hear more of. He felt the burning heat of jealousy bubbling up in his chest at the thought that Mr. Potter got to hear it. Probably a lot, even. Maybe from their shared marital bed, where he touched her in ways he didn’t fucking deserve.

“You’re cocky, you know that?” 

“I’ve been accused of worse things.” 

“I’m sure you can be a good boy,” Mrs Potter teased, “when you want to be,” 

Barty fought the urge to drop to his knees and crawl over to her on all fours. He wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t salivating, like a dog with a bone just out of reach. He wondered if Mrs. Potter was doing it on purpose, dangling it infront of him like this. It certainly didn’t stop his imagination from running wild. 

They held each other's gaze, tension heavy in the air. Barty knew he was blushing, but he didn’t look away. His knees would buckle, though, any second now, he was sure of it. The thought only made him blush further. He wouldn’t mind falling to his knees in front of Mrs. Potter. Wouldn’t mind submitting to her every whim, really, if that’s what she wanted 

Mrs. Potter bit her lip and lowered her gaze just slightly. She put her book down on the ground, ever so slowly— and allowed her legs to part, her silk robe loosening sinfully as her legs continued to spread. 

The cigarette fell from Barty’s lips, long since forgotten. He was about to say something, to maybe possibly object. Remind her of her bore of a useless husband, before he realised he absolutely didn’t care. Couldn’t care less, really, as his gaze lowered and watched as Mrs. Potter’s fingers reached the hem of her swim wear. 

“Mrs–” 

“Effie,” she interrupted. 

Heat pooled in his chest, his belly— his entire body. He swallowed tightly as her fingers dipped even lower. Someone would kill him for this, he thought. If they ever found out. 

He bit his own lip until he could taste the metallic tang of blood. Mrs Potter - Effie, he corrected - moaned as her hand disappeared between her legs, not looking away from him once.  

His knees buckled. 

“Watch,” Effie commanded, “no touching,” 

He’d die a lucky fucking man, though. He’d let Effie herself kill him, gladly, if that’s what she wanted. Whatever she fucking wanted. He’d lay his head down on her knee, like someone would lay their head on the execution block, and he’d look up at her so fucking sweetly. 

That’s how he had ended up here, with his back against the couch– in a pool house with a married woman. Not knowing or caring where her husband was. His fathers words echoed in his mind, demanding Barty do whatever Mr. Potter asked of him. Offer your assistance, his father had said. 

Effie straddled him, hand around his throat and robe falling off her shoulders. Sure, Mr. Potter hadn’t asked him to do this, but if that idiot couldn’t keep his wife satisfied then someone would have to do it for him. A woman like Effie should always be satisfied. Should have whatever she fucking wanted, whenever she wanted it. He was simply offering his assistance. 

Effie closed her hands around his wrists, keeping them above his head. “Will you keep them there?” she whispered, gently rolling her hips. “for me?” 

Way, way over his fucking head. 

“Anything,” he stuttered. 

“Good boy.” 

[nectariii]

❀ building 13 movie theater headcanons !! ❀

YURRRR !! went to da movies earlier today so i kept imagining specific nanbaka characters in like cinema situations :P cinemations...cinetuations...?? YEAH-

rock is finding a way to smuggle in an outrageous amount of snacks. bro's got candy in his sleeves and chips in his pockets. originally only brought them for himself but ofc the rest of cell 13 beg him for a bite and he lets them cus thats just who he is. despite how much food he brought in he still finds himself missing the beginning of the movie bc he couldn't resist the heavenly scent of overpriced popcorn

nico is a slushy FANATIC. mixin' all the flavors, dumping candies in it n shit. totally the kid in the back of the movie theater slurping the last drop out of the cup hella loud when a quiet, tense moment is going down in a film. hajime's annoyed but stares daggers at anyone who tries to shush him. NICO'S FAV SLUSHY FLAVOR IS THE RED CHERRY ONE !!

uno, bless his heart, is absolutely the person who tries to predict the movie's plot before and during it. and the bad part is he's usually right. also the kinda guy to be scarily good at guessing what the characters are gonna say next lol

jyugo actually likes the movies more than you'd expect. always pockets the 3d glasses just cus he thinks they're cool and he likes that he can spend time with the rest of cell 13 without a heavy focus on talking or interacting. it's also a bonus that it's dark and he can sleep if he gets bored

it took FOREVERRRR to drag tsukumo out to the movies. hc that he's a much bigger fan of media without human actors in it because it reminds him less of his past, so the movie he went out to see with the rest of them was definitely animated. also likes the dark because it makes him feel stealthy, but he has a bad habit of stepping on each and every piece of popcorn or puddle of nacho cheese in the aisles...also insists on using the photo booth whenever he does hit up the cinema cus despite it all he still really likes getting his picture taken

yamato volunteers to wait on the snacks and carry them in while everyone goes ahead to take a seat in the theater. previews end and the movie is 15 minutes in but he still isn't there. everyone thought it was because the food was taking long to come out, but it's just because he forgot which theater to go to and kept circling until hajime and seitarou found him. prolly has trouble locating which seat to go to on his own cus he finds the letters and numbers confusing and hard to see in the dim light (totally not projecting)

seitarou has perfect movie etiquette and tries to get everyone else to follow his example, usually to no avail. his only problem is that he's too considerate of others and thinks he's being impolite when he's really not. the type to take the smallest bite of his food and tiniest sip of his drink so he doesn't disturb anyone. the kind to walk all the way around to the other side of an aisle because he doesn't wanna ask someone to pull back their seat for him to pass. poor guy, he even double-checked to see if his phone was on do not disturb and got shushed because his brightness was all the way up </3

andddd hajime. he's usually the sponsor for these outings since yamato literally can never find his wallet and seitarou doesn't have the heart to tell the others not to drain his bank account by buying ever concession there is. he doesn't let the inmates go wild with snacks and makes sure they behave properly while in there. uno tries to get the inmates to sneak over to another theater and catch the next showing but hajime catches them and makes them pick up the teensy bits of food they left on the ground. he's also the one who has the final say on what movie they actually go to, and even though he says he checks the ratings and plot beforehand because he "doesn't want to watch a shitty movie", it's actually because he wants it to be worth everyone's time and appeal to all of them at least a little bit. dadjime for the win <3

[mochiwrites]

since it seems like it's something I'm properly doing now, uh. for the songbird enjoyers out there... I'm going to be taking down the latest songbird fic "diggin' up hatchets" because I'm not really happy with how it's coming out so far, and I'd like to rework the start of arc 3. really sorry to anyone who liked the fic 😔

however, most of the lore introduced in the fic is still canon in case anyone is wondering. it'll still be important to the story, I'll just be introducing it in different places, probably

[overly-dramatic-artist]

Am I on the verge of writing a mer! Sun and Moon fic to fill the void of the mermaid x scientist trope I love (and also to distract myself from choosing which grad school I’ll go to)? Yes, Yes I am.

[saphscorner]

-> latest ao3 drop! <- rating: general audiences characters: tango, grian pairing(s): tango/grian warnings: none summary: Tango offers Grian his first pair of elytra of the season in exchange for some lessons in flight... though it might be less about the elytra, and more about spending a little extra time with his crush

[the-lavender-clown]

That moment when you write down like 2 sentences and all the sudden you’re writers block is cured and words are flowing again

Anyway- new DO5A chapter next week hopefully

[knifknight]

Writing Tip

If you get stuck on a part of whatever you are writing; instead of just staring at a blank Google Doc page. Switch things up and write down some ideas in a notebook using your favorite pen to switch things up.

[silawastaken]

Idea credit/for @frostedfrog

Warrior cats bsd au!!!

The elders of the 'clans' were nonexistent.

At least, that was the case for the ada clan.

Instead, the stories were told by the warriors, the youngest members of the clan eagerly listening, tail kicking up dust with every excited flick.

"Long ago, back before the city had fallen into disrepair the way it had, there had been groups of cats, much like them, who lived in clans.

The names of the clans are up for debate, muddled through years of oral storytelling and translations, but the premise still stands.

There was the thunder clan, the river clan, the wind clan, and the shadow clan.

After years of war, they had learned to live in harmony, until they were driven from the forest they lived in.

Now, years later, that cats of the city were disorganised, different groups arranging in different ways.

Until Natume came along, educating two young kits that he found on the clans and their mythology, of the great leaders and warriors and the balance that should be upheld.

Both of the kits got involved in the dark space of the streets, back alleys and abandoned buildings, very few places left for stray cats such as them to harbour safely.

While one of the kits grew up and clawed his way out of the darkness, the other resigned himself to the shadow, involving himself in the dirty underworld of the city, doing whatever he deemed necessary to gain the power he wished for.

When the one who returned the light, or more accurately, the grey, he met a young kit, who had amazing talents that made him remember Natsume's teachings, and he built his own clan, an agency, designed to help keep harmony across the city, and keep the balance the way the great clans did in the old days.

The one who went to the dark rose in the underworld quickly, with the same knowledge as the one in the light, and he usurped the position of the boss of the cat mafia, leading with the same principle. Keep the balance. By whatever means necessary.

When the, now fully grown, cats fell out over the mistreatment of a kit under the dark one's care, they both retreated, and the two clans have been at odds ever since."

The tail flicking in the dirt was practically vibrating now, as the young orange cat seemed extremely enthusiastic to hear the story, despite the amount of times it had been told before.

"Wow Dazai! You're a great storyteller!" Kenji said happily.

The white cat with a single black ear next to Kenji seemed dubious.

"Was that really true?" He asked, tilting his head.

Dazai nodded.

"Yes, Atsushi. It truly is. I cannot attest as to the validity of the mythology, whether the clans were real, or whether what they believed and followed was right, but that story I told you was real. And you'll learn that very quickly here."

[24-guy]

Stretching the writing fingers again. Get ready for a 14 chapter fic, dudes. With a planned sequel.

I'm hoping to blast through it too, so like. Posting a few chapters in one go when I'm proud enough of them. :]