#writing comunity

[iridescentmemoria]

[letswritestories101]

Writeblr, I intend to start a new story but first I need to know from you, when you finish what the hell do you do with them? I wanted to write to post on a Wattpad-ish type of site, but it turns out that there is no longer a site to post your writing with no strings attached. What do you guys do? Do you publish or save? Did I really want to put my story somewhere? (It's not fic, so Ao3 is not recommended)

[firedragon1321]

Hi Tumblr Gaysite. I have a question. I'm a cis writer with a few LGBT+ characters and I have some questions about how to word certain things and develop them. Not just for potential marketing, but so I better understand how to write them. These questions may sound offensive or dumb but I come from a point of ignorance.

First, I have a nonbinary 13 year old (assigned male at birth). This is not a spoiler- due to plot circumstances, they reveal it to the MC soon after meeting him (when those circumstances are not in play, they are more secretive). They kind of fuck around with gender presentation. So maybe genderfluid is more accurate? As they've used they/them pronouns from conception, though, I'm sticking with nonbinary (or at least those pronouns).

Again, these are all cis idiot questions. I'm speaking from a position of minimal understanding.

I've seen on posts here that being nonbinary is a form of being transgender. Is that true? If it is, that means I have more resources for additional research.

What is being genderfluid? Not fully sure what that means, so I don't know if it really applies to them.

How would puberty effect them? They are somewhat shy about their body already. But I think the characters might take a few years to figure out the plot (with the MC already having a design for when he's a young adult). So they'll definitely start appearing more masculine.

Then not pertaining only to that character-

This part is a spoiler, so it can't be used as a marketing buzzword. And I'm not sure if it will happen. But the nonbinary character may start dating a cis female character. Is pansexual the right word to refer to her in that case?

Finally, are there any extra guides for writing trans/nb characters in general? There's a few more in another work. They might benefit from something like that.

Note I might turn off notifications for this post after getting a lot of responses and/or if shit hits the fan. I'll try to respond to as many as possible.

[stxr-du5t]

In another life

Summary: Victoria and Colby always felt a strong connection and maybe there's a reason for it

Pairing: Colby Brock x Victoria (Empath reader)

Warnings/Contents: Mentions of murder, Horrible backstory, Angst to fluff

Trope: Soulmates/Past lovers

Request: Yes

A/N: Reader disassociates and sees creepy stuff like CelinaSpookyBoo does

Victoria knew going into this place was going to be stressing since the history she researched was incredibly sad, she was sitting on the kitchen counter with her laptop open with a picture of the house she would be visiting with Sam and Colby, since she has been dating the brunette youtuber, and even a little earlier she has been in their videos, and when Victoria told them she could feel the difference on energies and even hear stuff, they thought she was joking

She obviously wasn't

Colby and her started dating in the middle of the pandemic when they would see each other a lot more, and later on move in with them, three years of relationship that feels like a whole lifetime, the connection they have made them get comfortable with each other really fast as if they knew from other life, but it was just a feeling, one thing was the existence of ghosts and maybe demons, but other different was the existence of past lifes

"That would feel like a supernatural episode" She laughed at her own thought

—Hey babe— Colby's voice made her snap out of her almost existential crisis, she felt a soft kiss on the side of her head —It's time to go— He could feel something was wrong, that she had a bad feeling

Once she got inside the car, Sam was driving and Colby in the passenger seat, she in the backseat thought about that picture of the house they were going to visit in a couple hours, thankfully it was in San Diego, California so it wasn't a long trip, but if they do it soon, it will end soon

Two hours of trip and they were in front of the house

This terrifying looking building, a normal house for some

With normal looking windows, the frames of them painted in black a well as the door, and the house itself painted in an off shade of white, it had a porch and garage, it looked normal but it was far from normal

The horrors found themselves inside, already waiting for the eager group to enter the nightmare awaiting for them, as Victoria crossed the door she felt heavy presences and the most deep sadness

—I don't like the feeling of this place— She said suddenly being hyper aware of everything, Victoria felt Colby's hand on her back, and thought he probably felt the same, Sam on the other hand was too immersed in what the owner of the house was saying

—The history of the house is confusing and there's a lot of speculations on what really happened— The blonde woman who owned the place —Sometimes there's loud bangs on the walls and footsteps on the hallway on the second floor, we really don't know much but maybe you can find something

Chills, chills went down her spine as the owner said those words, unknown history was enough to peak the interest in the group specially in Sam, who was so eager to start as soon a possible.

The owner left to give them space to investigate, the group started on the living room trying to communicate but nothing happened, then the kitchen which gave her an indescribable feeling of despair and hopelessness, the desperation in the air was unbearably painful

—What now?— Sam asked calmly

—If there's any spirit residing in this house, make a sign or a sound— Victoria said with a soft gentle tone to her voice, a few minutes of silence got her a light know and then a giggle —The story doesn't mention kids, could be real kids or something else, like Sally

—We didn't heard a kid— Said Sam with his blue eyes very open, inside terrified because of what his friend just said

—I have a feeling there's some fucked up things in this house— Colby's word felt like a cold water bucket, he felt the same as she did and Sam is just clueless

The group moved to the hallway of the house, and Victoria wandered off to the master bedroom, feeling a strong connection to that room, she sat on the bed and tried to concentrate while the two boys were cracking some jokes in the hallway, she could hear Sam's laugh and Colby shushing him because of a loud bang in front of them

—Tori?— Colby's voice sounded worried, he didn't realized when he lost sight of her

She closed her eyes trying to get in the zone, trying to disassociate go see if somethings get to her, opening the communication

She saw a woman dressed in late 1800s attire holding a girl that was not much older than two years old, the woman left the little girl sitting on the floor and put her apron on to get to the kitchen, the little girl giggled at the family cat whose pressed his tail on her nose and made her sneeze

"I guess that kind of domestic stuff happened in every era" She said to herself once she hears her boyfriend called her for the tenth time, it had been around two hours that she had been zoned out sitting in the edge of the bed, his worried voice told her he had been looking for her for a while

—Babe, you scared me— Colby smiled when he saw his girlfriend was alright, kind of —Were you doing the thing?

She nodded yes with her head and smiled, reassuring him she was all fine

—GUYS! THE OVILUS JUST SAID MURDER— Sam screamed from the other room, the couple ran to the room next to the master bedroom, it was a kids bedrooms, two twin beds and a bunch of toys, the looks of the room was completely different from the room

Victoria didn't realize the water streak going down her cheeks, she stood in the door frame of the kids room, feeling the emptiness, because the house was habited but so empty, and the energy didn't help, that two year old in her vision died in that room, she could feel it as if she was her daughter

She sobbed trying to move away from the room

—I don't like it, i saw a woman and a little girl— The overstimulation from all the negative feelings caught up to her, Colby turned the camera off and ran to his girlfriend to hold her

—I believe in everything you see, can you explain to us?—

—Its just that, a woman and a girl in the kitchen and then coming in that room i felt emptiness, being so full of toys but no kid, i could see the past, i gotta go under again— She explained to the boys still shaking because of the crying

—You think you can? We don't want to pressure you— Sam said holding the camera, he had the same worried look as her boyfriend

—I'll be alright, it's something I've done since i was a kid, i need to know more— Colby wasn't so happy about it, he knew ghosts were intimidated by him and attracted to his girlfriend because she could feel, hear and in occasions see them and being able to somewhat help them, but this was a lot

Sam, Colby and Victoria stayed silent for a little bit, then the brunette spoke in the most serious voice

—Alright, but if i see you struggle, I'll pull you back— He said in a stern tone, gave her soft kiss on the lips and smiled in approval

—Now I'm third wheeling— Sam complained as he pulled the rempod out of his backpack

They finally set everything up, the attic was the best place to do it, there was a big place for her to sit on the floor with the rempod in front of her

—Ok, I'm ready— Victoria closed her eyes, trying to get in that state of meditation, then she saw blurry faces and figures in her closed eyes

The woman from before ran up the stairs with her hands bloody, Victoria saw her perspective as if she was the nameless woman, screaming for help as she watches her little girl and husband get brutally murdered by some stranger, as the man approached her, her breathing starting to get irregular

—The little girl is dead in the nursery, the man who is her husband bleeds in the kitchen but is conscious still, the woman screams for help as the intruder murders her cold blooded to then slash his throat, before dying, he says "if you're not mine, no one else will have you", a little sexist if ask me— Her breath got more and more heavy due to seeing the scene on loop, clearer as if watching an HD movie

—It's ok, it happened hundreds of years ago, you are safe— He held her for a while until her breath got a lot calmer —It's so sad what happened here

—I need to see them, i need to find something— She moved through the attic motivated by her curiosity and mostly fear, rummaging through boxes to find an old wooden box she got a glimpse of on her vision, inside there were pictures and love letters

The group observed the pictures in the light of the kitchen now, going through the love letter who were not from her husband, but from another man she couldn't reciprocate his feelings for her

And then, she held a few pictures of the little girl, brown hair like her father, wavy like her mother, a beautiful innocent smile and apparently light eyes, the others from bithdays and their wedding, the last picture corresponded to the last birthday of the little girl, now named Theresa

Theresa was being hold by her father who was kissed her chubby cheek and her mother smiles at them, a picture so natural and cozy it almost made Victoria forget the horrors of the family in their last moments

He looked a lot like Colby, just with a different hairstyle and clothes, the woman looked a lot like her and Theresa, looked looked a mix of both, she gave the picture to her boyfriend and Colby and stared at it for a good minute and passed it to his best friend

And suddenly it clicked to the three of them

Past lives did exist

So did soulmates

In a mix of shock and relief as they got this new information they went back to the car in silence, not being able to express what they discovered

—Uuuh Are we talking about it?— Sam broke the silence while driving —It's really fucked, I'm sorry, guys

—It didn't happened to us, i mean it did, i didn't believed in past lifes— Colby stumbled on his word until he could get an idea out

—Theresa... She d...— Victoria was more than worried for the girl, who died being innocent, her heart felt broken

Once they arrived at home, she felt a lot lighter, they ate talking about many thing but the things that happened, Colby and Victoria went to be really tired and he noticed how she was not really present

—Try to stop thinking about it, you will only hurt yourself— Colby smiled getting closer to his girlfriend for night cuddling before sleeping —I know how much it affected you, so did affected me and even Sam, this is actually worse than Queen Mary

—It hurts—

—I know, love but it shouldn't, because i managed to find you in this life and i will find you in another one— His reassuring words felt like a lullaby, helping drift to sleep without spending hours thinking about it

He was right they will find each other every single time.

[iamsherlocked1479]

So im not feeling great at the moment, im not gonna lie. Im feeling quite homesick at the moment because ive just moved to uni a few days ago. Now i know homesickness is inevitable but i watched markipliers video titled “watch this when you’re feeling down” and he spoke about doing things you love which made me think about this blog. Now i can tell you here this isn’t me asking for followers or likes. Its just me trying to create a little community. Now I can’t do that without letting you guys get to know me. Now this isn’t me being like oh 1000 reblogs and i’ll do a face reveal no, as far as diving i to my personal life a face reveal isn’t on my list. But telling you guys about me is.

So Hi 👋, my name is Molly and I’m 18 years old and from the UK. I just enrolled in university to study Zoology because i like animals and the environment. And some of my favourite blogs include work from ironstrange1991, withalittlehoney and jrrmint. I’ve linked their masterlists or latests post so I highly recommend checking them out! But im hoping this will help people who follow this blog get more involved because ive seen some amazing community’s and i’d love that for this blog even if it was one person or a million i just would love to bring everyone together because i love writing these fics so much so please leave a lil comment abt urself or a request if you really wanted to and i send all my live. Even if nobody reads this its helping me feel less homesick. <3 xxx

P.s will link the authors bloggs in the comments

[aeshteticangel]

Black heart

A sanctuary is never truly silent. She seeks refuge from the malign voices who whisper and shout the cruelest of things, and yet, the only voice that hurts her soul is her own. 

Wishing for silence is like watering a dead plant. 

As time passes, her pitch black heart cried in untold pain. Pain long gone into the waters of her past but vividly present through her veins. Some nights she laid wide awake because of her murderous intent, letting go isn't exactly her strongest suit. 

However, even in deep despair, she would never change her wounds for glitter. After all, they are her greatest creation. 

Author: JM_Pages 

(A little something I wrote in the spur of inspiration, JM_Pages is my author name on Inkitt)

[firewolf-pyro]

A large group of non-canon Dalek! Doctor Who Oc’s can truly range from hero’s to villains.

[eldritch-flower]

Alt: The Waking — see here for trigger warnings

Chapter 2 of 9 | [prev / next ]

A jingling cut out amongst a silence that had been interrupted until then only by the rasp of his laboured lungs, the organs forced by his disquieted brain to keep him alive. It was a full sound, jovial, rectifying the quiet and persuading his dismal thoughts to falter.

The temptation to follow it was jarring. 

Orville grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, and swung his legs up and off the mattress. His feet slapped the soft carpet, and vicious the sob it forced out of him was muffled by the fabric stuffed past bruised lips. 

The pillowed carcasses followed his every movement with eyes that were unnervingly human, glistening with moist films stretched over top. They stared at him knowing of his plight, mocking Orville’s feeble attempts to try as he in turn stared at the tall, menacing door that split the room in half. 

A door. He had never claimed to be smart, but Orville knew that doors lead places. Places like away, like home, like out this fucking room. 

He avoided the mirror planted conspicuously on the wall beside it. Orville didn’t go near the reflective silver; the idea of staring back at himself and seeing just what was causing his entire being to ache, what had become of him, stirred the muscle of his gut into an ill frenzy. His stomach failed to calm it’s nauseating churning as he continued to size up the door, watching it like some wild animal. 

It was simple, unembellished. It wasn’t even painted, although Orville guessed that the bronze handle might have been once. He could make out where the paint had flaked and been scratched away through rough and desperate actions; traces of vermilion and chipped keratin were unobtrusively splintered there, a stamp of despair. He pointedly refused to imagine what had caused someone to act in such a way, to imagine what had filled them with so much terror that they torn the nails from their fingers simply trying to turn the handle. Instead, he scooted along the bed and tried his best to ignore the spasming of his ribs as he did so.

His ankles hadn’t been tied - big mistake, Orville thought (and he couldn’t help but hear Jones’s voice as he did because the man would be all over this psycho shit). He took it as a sign of good will from whatever deity actually existed, forcing himself to stand despite how it pulled and chewed at his wobbling muscles. Then, thought occurred gently that maybe it wasn’t a sign. Maybe He hadn’t meant for Orville to be able to walk, maybe He had miscalculated just how much pain Orville Shepherd could take. 

He? Orville chased the thought, losing it in the opened floodgates of his mind. 

His knees shook, grinding gristle against bone as the man painstakingly limped forward. One foot dragged behind him, useless and twisted grotesquely, and Orville steadfastly ignored the sliver of unclean cartilage that had worked itself out of the wound and into the open like a poison (Orville was good at ignoring things. He had ignored his failing relationship with Maddie, and his parent’s hatred for him. His hatred for himself, too. And he’d ignored the way his kids moved on so quickly, flocking to Jones; the next best thing).

Orville all but fell into the door, pressing against its square, solid frame with bruised fingertips.  The wood rattled his being, expanding in,out,in,out. A thrumming of energy worked its way through the seams of the door and into his soul; a living, breathing entity. 

He moved his hand away, drawing it back to his side as he flexed his tingling fingers, and Orville considered what lay before him: Should he open it, trapped in apparent purgatory as he was? What if someone was stood behind it, waiting with an axe to finish the job they’d so crudely started? What if it was all just some game, some horrible, horrible game, and it was simply meant to give him a last spark of hope that would just as soon be distinguished?

Orville turned his sights back to the vixen, watched her snarl lifelessly. The fox hadn’t opened the door. The fox couldn’t.

He didn’t want to end up like the fox. 

He reached for the door again. The pretty jingling echoed from nowhere and everywhere, and Orville’s mind couldn’t understand it. It pulled at his brain like a long-lost memory before it dissolved into a mollified, hissing cackle. He glanced down, shivering. The hairs on his arms were stood to attention: A troop of soldiers upright on a bed of horripilation. Orville lay his palm against the bodily-warm handle, feeling the faint throb of a heartbeat that intermingled with the pulse beneath his skin. He swallowed, thick and dry, forcing spittle down his constricted throat, and twisted it. 

Orville didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting to see as he pushed the door open. Nothing, maybe - just a blanket of dark, like the back of a closet. Or perhaps the continuation of whatever abode he had awoken within: red carpet hallways, serviceable torture rooms identical to his own. 

Instead, he found the Others. 

tag list: @anonymousfoz @digital-chance @milatooo

(ask to be added)

[iridescentmemoria]

[kagazaurlafz]

I was a little unsure, nervous that day. My lips were lingering over each other but not touching. Overthinking about what is going to happen, where she was-.. -and there she was, looking beautiful as always. She pulled me and my thoughts away and it was just the next moment which i remember, the taste of her lips, the sweetness it carried with it.

"I need her now", was the thing my heart kept repeating, my hands grabbing her oversized white T-shirt continuously, pulled her near me more as every second pass. Her soft fingers moving across my shoulders and her breath moaning my name with every single exhale of air.

I lost myself in her eyes, and my lips got calmer when they met her lips. My every single cell got mesmerized the perfume she was wearing. And the mole on her jaw defined everything about what falling in love was.

Pulling away from that kiss. Her hair... was a mess and cheeks were red, lips slightly parted and her eyes longing down of shyness. "Gosh, she looked so pretty".

~Pratham Garodia

[letswritestories101]

Fellows sci-fi writers, tell me the tropes of this wonderfull type of narrative you can't stand.

I'm listen

[holycatsandrabbits]

Chapters: 10/12 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: human/shapeshifter, college student Scott/his childhood best friend Griffin who is a monstrous shapeshifter, Original Male Character/Original Male Character Additional Tags: Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Size Kink, as in monster-sized kink, monster smut, also human smut, all between consenting adults, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, scenes from childhood, Bickering, Neglectful Parenting, Found Family, Quests, Shenanigans, Magic, shared secrets, Happy Ending Series: Part 16 of Dannye's Original Queer Romance Summary:

A man falls in love with his childhood best friend, who happens to be a (really hot) shapeshifting monster.

Scott’s been best friends with Griffin since they were kids. He’s been in love with Griffin since they were teenagers. Things definitely would have been easier if Scott had fallen in love with somebody who wasn’t an enormous, half-human, shapeshifting monster, but compared to Griffin, everyone else is just so ordinary. Scott and Griffin have grown apart since they started attending different colleges, but this spring break, they’re on a quest to track down Griffin’s mysterious shapeshifting kin, based on a clue Scott found in an old book. Which means Scott needs to decide if he should risk confessing his love (and crucially, his attraction to Griffin in all his forms) or if he should keep quiet so he doesn’t hold Griffin back from what might be his best life— even if that best life is without Scott. Also this quest is probably going to require breaking the law a little bit. This is going to be one hell of a spring break.

Updates Fridays

[iamsherlocked1479]

So I’m a little late on this but recently we passed 200 followers, I’m so pleased to see that people are enjoying my writing, honestly it makes me want to do more and write more. I really do appreciate your support i know I’m not the most frequent poster but it really does mean alot to me to see that others enjoy my stories as much as i do.

So from the bottom of my heart thank you guys so much.

[kestalsblog]

Thoughts on Current Young Adult Fiction

Recently, I made it a mission of mine to read a plethora of YA fiction at the library, including a wide range of genres (fantasy, romance, historical, etc.), as well as books composed of prose poems, which can be blended into "fiction" when they're crafted into an overarching story.

I also chose from a wide selection of authors of different racial, ethnic, gender, age, and sexual identities. The one constraint I had, unfortunately, is I only can fluently read books written primarily in English, though I did make an effort to read books that switched between languages, mostly between English and Spanish in my case.

I'm not going to name any of the books I read between last year and now when I started this project because I don't want to call out any authors/titles in a post that might be considered "negative."

I'm a huge supporter of YA fiction, but the primary thing I noticed while reading is . . . lack.

Lack of character development. Lack of exciting action. Lack of intriguing dialogue. Lack of world-building. Lack of surprise.

But more than all of that - lack of passion! Literally lackluster writing. I want sentences that ooze and drip the writer's passion, war-torn, gripping, resonant sentences that make me care about the characters, that make me want to keep reading.

Out of dozens of books, some deemed more "popular" and some more "obscure" (though, let's put some pressure on which books even get selected by "Top Ten" Lists and so on), I didn't read a single one where I really cared what happened next. I barely remember one from the next.

There could be several reasons for this:

I'm a little too old to be the target audience for YA, which is typically around 12-18 (younger than you might think!) I'm sure if I looked back at the books I considered "gripping" when I was younger, I would be disappointed with them now.

Publishers are going to publish what they think will sell - whether for political reasons, big name connections reasons, whatever else. This means not-stellar writing can pass through to the shelves quite easily.

But still! I keep thinking on this. Isn't there a space for YA fiction that can blend the lines with what's typically perceived as "literary" fiction? It doesn't have to be poetry. It doesn't even have to be profound.

But can't it be passionate?

Can't it be poignant?

I suppose my takeaway from this is here: if you are a YA writer, don't let the fact that you're writing for a younger audience hold your writing back from being superb. Teach them new words, new ways to construct sentences. Show them the most devastating character they've ever met. Be memorable.

And, of course, keep fighting against the current market, which is perhaps the biggest hurdle of all. I wonder if any published authors have had to "dilute" their writing to get an agent to accept them or something like that. Is this tepid prose what's truly in style?

[lilacjosie]

I wanted to start a Tumblr for awhile, but just hadn't gotten to it. I suppose trying it now rather then later would be ideal.

My goals for this is to share some ideas and stories I've been writing, other than that probably just look at what communities that exist here.

[sjgay]

Just joined tumbler, trying to figure it out. Hi I’m Sierra, I go by she/her and identify as Lesbian. 👋🏼