#writingsnippets

[worthymartyrconstruct]

The woman in the mirror isn’t me anymore.

I live alone. I’ve always kept my bathroom light on at night—habit from childhood, nothing more. But last week, something changed.

I got up at 3:12 AM (I remember because my phone lit up), walked past the bathroom, and saw myself in the mirror... already standing there. I hadn’t even stepped in yet.

She smiled. I didn’t.

I froze. It mimicked every move I made—but a second too slow. Like it was watching and deciding how to be me.

I’ve tried covering the mirror. It doesn’t help. Every night since, I’ve woken up at the same time.

She’s always there. Closer.

Last night, she didn’t copy me. She waved.

I didn’t.

[bi-bats]

Identity porn college au you say 👀👀 also ;) ;) 👉👉 Bad Days 😳

💖💖💖 glad to see you active again my friend

glad to be active again!! I have a bunch of health stuff going on that's really pulled my focus from writing much of anything, but it's nice to just let myself think about fun stuff again 💖

I'm putting this under a read more cause this got LONG

YEAHHHHH IDENTITY PORN COLLEGE AU!!! I have a snippet for that one!! A nice, long snippet:

It all went wrong right before Tim had his coffee, because that was always when everything went wrong. He had just picked it up off the counter, rolling his eyes at the name on the cup. Jim. Whatever, it was his. It wasn’t like anyone else was ordering a large red-eye with two extra shots. He lifted it to take his first sip and turned— Broad shoulders, scar on the neck, white streak in the hair, angry green eyes—check, check, check. And check.  “Jason.” Tim’s voice cracked mortifyingly on the word. “Hi,” he added, before he finally managed to force his mouth shut. One thick eyebrow raised at him. “What's up?” he asked delicately. He didn’t want to have a very public interaction with Jason here, because they would draw attention and someone would realize he wasn’t Jim, but Tim, Tim Wayne, and then this would be in a tabloid. But apparently, Jason wasn’t interested in having a very public interaction. Apparently he wasn’t interested in having any sort of interaction with him at all. He didn’t know why he expected Jason to resume talking to him now. Being ignored by Jason was easy. Seeing his anger, the way it twisted in his eyes when they used to be pliant and soft, felt worse. Tim just sighed, deflating as the air left him. “Right.” It had been for the best, he reminded himself. “I’ve gotta go.” “As always,” Jason drawled. Tim’s eyes snapped back to Jason’s, and he looked vicious, but a little hurt under it.

basically, the premise is that they meet in college and then start dating, and then they break up because Jason knows that Tim is lying to him about why he's constantly disappearing in the middle of dates, etc. etc. He basically tells Tim the last time that he can either tell him why he's leaving in the middle of the date, or he can not come back. So he doesn't come back. Then Red Hood and Red Robin start hooking up because both of them are looking for outlets, and it's a casual/antagonistic thing until Red Hood ends up taking Red Robin to one of his safehouses after an injury... that Tim had been to for a date with Jason. And of course from there it all spirals! 💚

and now for your snippet of Bad Days. A nice long one for being so patient with me:

“I don’t even know why you and Tim like this crap,” Jason grumbles as he tosses the controller on the coffee table.  “It’s more fun when you’re evenly matched. You should see Tim play against Bart, he loses his shit.”  “Tim says he cheats,” Jason mutters as he turns a suspicious eye on Kon.  “Only if having superpowers you can’t shut off is considered cheating.”  Jason narrows his eyes at Kon. “You’d know if I was using my TTK on you, Jason.” “Would I?” “Oh... yeah, I guess not. I don’t think I’ve ever used it on you.”  Jason’s face goes a little surprised, and Kon’s stomach sinks. “You don’t think?” “I… can’t always control it. Not like, I can’t get it to work or anything, but sometimes it has a mind of its own when I’m relaxed. Especially when I’m sleeping.” “What does it feel like?”  “I don’t actually know. Tim says it feels like a hand sometimes, though.”  “Show me?” Kon’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, before he forces them back down.  “Oh, uh—” Kon takes a second to put down the controller, then he places his hand on Jason's forearm. For a split second, he isn’t sure what he plans to do, but he relaxes the part of him that has his power held back. It’s a little like noticing his jaw is clenched and forcing the muscle to loosen. In the second he relaxes his hold, he feels his TTK reach out, and he watches as Jason’s face turns towards Kon, slowly, like he’s being tilted by a hand on his chin. “Oh,” Jason says softly, and Kon feels a flare of heat across his cheeks.

Thank you for the ask!!! 💚💚💚

send me an ask about one of my WIPs!

[teonatsu-kathy]

Niamh's Daring Spirit in Words! ⚔️🌊

Here's a little taste of the daring and magic that is Echoes of the Enchanted Sea. Niamh is everything I hoped she would be – fierce, clever, and absolutely unafraid to challenge the norm. This moment captures her spirit perfectly!

"Niamh’s mind was sharp and her movements calculated. With a quick sidestep and a feint, she tricked her foe into overreaching his swing. As he stumbled forward, off-balance, Niamh seized the moment. With a deft twist of her wrist, she sent his sword skittering across the deck."

Link: Read Echoes of the Enchanted Sea

[moremysteries]

"In a way, there are more mysteries than tragedies"

Kofi | Wattpad | AO3 | Writing Master List | Pillowfort | Bluesky

(Profile art by @floofyboi57)

Hi hi! I'm an aroace trans man in a system that loves to write horror mysteries. Though I dabble in other genres depending on what a story needs. My works typically include morally gray characters, strangely cute monsters, and dark content, so make sure you read the content warnings before engaging with them. Some themes you can expect are light in the deepest darkness, heroes being worse than the villain, weirdcore settings, humans as the true evil, religious trauma, finding queer acceptance, and so on. I also litter my works with trans, plural, and aroace themes.

Important notes:

Why did I make a new blog, outside of wanting a fresh start? To be honest, my notifications were so broken that it made the decision easy. I do recognize that, one day, I'll have to accept having an account for a long time just means things will break, but this is not that day!

Taglist and Tags

@aweirdshipp

If you like our work, please consider asking to be added to the taglist! This shows us people are interested in our writing, and can help ensure you're notified about writing updates. Feel free to clarify if you want to be tagged for things like a specific WIP, writing ramblings, snippets, or if you want to be notified when I need beta readers.

#ourwriting, #writingrambles, #writingsnippet, #wipupdates, #essiehobbies

Disclaimer

I will not follow you if you do not properly warn about or tag triggering content. I'd love to be moots with others, but I can not comfortably follow you if you are not properly tagging your posts. I am a strong pusher for properly tagging content so people can curate their own space.

An Optional BYF For Those Who Want It

This is a Litmus Test

Yep, let's talk about the whole "fiction effects reality" thing. When I use this phrase, what I am not saying is that violent media will make you violent, or that all stories should be squeaky clean with the purpose of teaching a moral. It's a recognition of how harmful feeding into stereotypes can be, and how certain framing contributes to the spread of harmful ideas. For example, a work that glorifies violence done by the military via painting the other side of a conflict as "pure evil". And let me be clear, a character glorifying their own actions is not the same as the creator glorifying their actions, nor are stories where everyone is evil or sucks encouraging bad behavior.

The takes, "writing about horrific things does not make you a bad person", and, "a creator framing a character's horrific behavior as justifiable, and others negative reactions towards it as unjustifiable, could be a red flag", in my opinion, can and should coexist. (Ex: B being painted as in the wrong for not seeing a trans individual as crazy, while A is painted as justified for doing so). I am against censorship and harassment, but I am not against thoughtful critiques or discussions about how we present certain ideas within our writing. Discouraging this makes it more difficult to discuss when harm is intended or accidentally done, and can be used to silence minorities when they ask for better representation. It also makes it harder to blow the whistle on bigots. Both the extremes that everyone who writes dark things condones them, and that no one who writes dark things ever condones them are not helpful. Which brings me to my main point.

TDLR: Framing is everything, and just because fiction isn't going to turn us into murder hobos, that doesn't mean it can't contribute to the spread of harmful ideas. Being against censorship does not have to mean being against thoughtful discussion or critique.

Your reaction to these paragraphs will let you know whether or not my writing is for you. I'm a neurodivergent who's addicted to nuance, and this shows in not only my stories, but also how I approach them. As I write them, I twist the struggles, perspectives, and experiences of the characters to end up with a complex web of considerations. There's nothing wrong with a story full of horrible people being horrible just for the sake of it, or a story full of violence just because, but those aren't the type of things I tend to write. I also often cover the perspectives of trauma victims and plural individuals to put out the representation I as one want to see.

If you dislike horror that takes an interest in examining and criticizing human behavior, this is definitely not the blog for you. But, if you think tackling questions such as how far the heroes can go before they become just as bad, or even worse, than the villain, themes of characters overcoming evil, characters like oddly soft demons, and settings like weirdcore societies meant to comment on American society, are interesting, then I think you'll enjoy my works.

TDLR: I write horror with a gushy center and with representation that is important to me.

[identityunsure]

Recipe for finding peace at 12 am.

.

Take 5 spoons of yoghurt, white and sour.

And add half a single-serve pot of sweetened, berry-flavoured yoghurt.

Gently swirl to create a purple-white canvas.

Top with a handful of pre-washed blueberries – little gems of sweetness that will burst with every spoonful of still-sour ‘ghurt. (You’ll know because you’ll start eating.)

When it’s still too sour,

take a tiny tangerine…

Focus on your fingers.

You’ll spend so much time

peeling the skin,

removing white fibrous veins,

revealing glossy orange flesh,

that you’ll be somewhere else entirely.

It’s something a paper cup of

grape-flavoured soda,

sweet enough to shame real grapes,

and bright enough to cause fruit to blush,

cannot, in it’s soulless convenience,

touch.

Because as you sit on top

of the kitchen counter,

looking at

sweet shiny oranges,

and gemstone dark blues,

on sour swirls of purple against white,

in your favourite metal bowl and

your gold-and-pink spoon…

You’ll notice

how beautiful

you’ve made

the food in your bowl.

For a moment, you realise

that this is what it’s like

to feed the eyes,

the body,

and the soul.

.

#writingsnippet

#amandawriteswords

[marktbradford]

You should always be cautious when sneaking into the dragon's den. #dicerollprose ~ Featured artwork by @ozorninilya a very cool fantasy/sci-fi character artist. ~ Some of this week's #wordoftheday were: Panglossian: extreme optimism in the face of adversity. Rubicund: healthy reddish colour from associate with the outdoors. Louche: shady. Profusion: large amount of something. Nexus: a form or state of connection. Luminary: a person of prominence. Felicitate: to congratulate with award. Nonpareil: unique. A paragon. Paratragoedia: a comedy based on a tragedy. Tutelary: pertaining to a guardian. Precipitancy: abruptness. Williwaw: a sudden, cold blast of land air. Avant-garde: experimental artistry. Foible: a small flaw or weakness. Coruscate: be lively or brilliant or exhibit virtuosity. Rebus: a puzzle/arrangement in pictures. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ #write #writingcommunity #thewritercommunity #writingsnippets #writing #writinginspiration #fantasyart #fantasy #fantasygenre #fantasybooks #fantasywriter #booklover #books #bookstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CMZKaX2APWs/?igshid=1sm7l6rwwi418

[hirokiro]

Writing prompt I found via pinterest: Through a curse a knight is turned into a dragon. Fellow knights hunt him, believing he was killed by the dragon he has become. Dragons, aware of who he is, also hunt him, calling him an abomination. He is wounded and out of options. (I didn’t get to the dragons part but whatever. Not like there’s a strict rule about following a prompt.)

Wounded and exhausted, they more of crashed than landed in the small ravine. The hope was to elude pursuit long enough to get up a little strength and try to take flight again.

The knight-turned-dragon lay heaving for air, dripping blood from arrow wounds and slashes. Could they even get back up? How did this even happen? Why were they a dragon? They were a knight! Supposed to be killing an actual dragon. But before that could happen when it withdrew deeper into its home, they transformed themselves and everyone thought they were the real one.

“Hey! Oh thank goodness I found you!” came a voice from above. The Knight turned their draconic head and snarled. A hazy silhouette of a person looked down on them, backlit by the sky “Hey! It’s okay! I know who you are! You’re Knight!” they called, “Hold on, I know what to do! I know why you turned into a drag-!” They paused, both they and Knight pricked their ears at the sound of distant pursuit. “Shoot! Hope this works fast…” the person above muttered as they swung themselves over the edge and began scrambling down as quickly as they could.

Knight wasn’t certain what to think. Could be a trap, yet, this was only one person so far as they could tell. Just who, though? They weren’t one of the knights… maybe a mercenary? Or someone independent? Still, they didn’t trust whoever this was. There was a sword at their side and a buckler on their arm. Knight watched them through narrowed eyes. The last few yards the person slipped and fell. They cried out as they hit the ground and crumpled, rolling down the slope towards Knight. Knight was on them at once, pinning them down with a snarl. Looking down, they didn’t recognize this person for a moment, but as they stared into the wide frightened eyes, Knight began to remember. They were that young mercenary that came on the dragon hunt along with the others paid to aid the cause. Only there for the money, Knight had thought, and had looked down on the whole lot, there was no noble ambition for honor, glory, and to protect the realm, only the greed for payment. But then who was this risking his life apparently, and not for money, not even glory? The mercenary looked back, panting from the effort of the climb and the painful landing, “It’s okay. I know what happened. I-if it didn’t break when I fell, I have a potion of transformation! It’ll change you back!” Knight couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing and had to take it in. “I’m telling the truth! I know you took some of the treasure. I saw you! I tried to call out but it was too late. You must never steal from a dragon’s hoard before they’ve been killed! It’s like a curse!”

For some reason that was so outlandish Knight believed it on the spot. Who had been the one greedy for gold in the end? Knight let Mercenary go and Mercenary pushed themselves to a sitting position, quickly reaching for a bag on their hip. “Please please don’t be broke-yes!” Mercenary mumbled. Pulling out a glowing vial they held it up, “Take this. I know it’s small but it was all I could afford, so all we can hope is it works. If it doesn’t we’re both dead.” Knight lay down, feeling his exhaustion. They could hear the hunting party getting closer, practically on top of them. Mercenary pulled themselves over to Knight and poured the potion into their mouth. May as well take it.

The other knights hunting Knight looked over the edge, mercenaries pointed their bows as Mercenary shouted for them to wait. Looked like it was too late, Knight thought as they closed their eyes.

But the shouts changed from anger to shock. Knight opened their eyes to see the world looking larger than before. Mercenary was throwing their cloak over Knight. “It worked!” Mercenary sighed. Soon the two were surrounded by the hunting party. A healer was cleaning and binding Knight’s wounds. People were all talking over each other, amazed and confused, asking Mercenary what they had done, how they knew! Knight kept an eye on them, Mercenary was looking pale as they were helped up, favoring one foot. They must have twisted or sprained their ankle! Even in all that pain their only concern had been Knight! Knight couldn’t believe the mercenary’s generosity, looking on them in a light of gratitude. Knight needed to do something for them to repay them, but what could Knight even do? Nothing at the moment, they were wounded all over and barely able to move. But… they would think of something…

[arty528]

“Ah, you must be Character A, I am Big Bad Guy.” I bowed my head slightly. “Character B, search them please.” The person who had been lounging to my left swung their legs over and stood up in one fluid motion. They approached slowly, their eyes dragging down my body and back up again. They smirked and stopped behind me. They placed their hands on my shoulders and slowly brought them downward, down my back, my waist, my hips, my legs… Then they came in front of me, and without breaking eye contact did the same thing. 

“They’re clean,” B said, still looking at me.

[fectriestowrite]

I'm going to be posting this snippet a little earlier than I did last week as I'll be using the rest of my break bothering the family cat! But yes, here we have another snippet from the WIP under the working title Almost did doesn't count 😊 #writinglife #WIP #writingsnippet #prose #dialogue #writingcommunity #mywriting #myphoto https://www.instagram.com/p/CVA68vYIQ-I/?utm_medium=tumblr

[lilac-den]

The 0 among numbers

Warning: Pretty dark thinking, mental conflicts, a bit of depression dripped in.

This isn’t exactly something I write for myself. It’s mainly out of the frustration of a lot of things, especially at how little people have treated content creators or the like, how degrading they believe the creators are without knowing the struggles they faced in completing what they drew, written or created.

So I guess this is my way to send a small message to any content creator that struggles with self-worth or facing self-doubt.

I’m not sure if it will brighten up your day or darken it. I’m more focused on the fact any content creator who loves their creation or work as much as a parent to a child deserves more love than the world can offer.

Thank you for taking the time to check this out. Feel free to share or reblog this to anyone you know to be a loving content creator.

“You suck.”

“You’re bad at this.”

“Why are you even alive, lol?”

“Why is this still going on?”

“This is too hard. This sucks.”

Hands are settled to a stop. My body grows slack in exhaustion while my eyes trail on to the comments on the window of my computer. Hate is blaring with daggers; toxicity is pouring out in letters and spite paints it all as a huge front-line notice.

Heaviness weighs down on me. A sinking depth lies within my mind. Tension fills my shoulders. I cross my arms on the top of my desk and rest my forehead onto them.

They’re just haters.

They’re nothing more than words.

They’re just looking to start a fight.

But even so, that doesn’t make the pain any less suffocating.

No matter how hard I try on my own, they keep increasing. 1, 2, 3, 4. More and more, they grow. The hate simply increases.

Is there a purpose for my creation?

Are there any enjoyment found in what I have produced?

Have there been any sense of comfort to those who desire what I consider my own version of art?

“I don’t like how this turns out – can’t you change it?”

“I don’t get it – why did you make it so easy? Make it harder.”

“The plot is too complicated.”

“The art style isn’t my taste – maybe try using watercolours.”

“This is pure shit. Why are you even continuing this? Just stop already, you suck.”

It’s like an echo; repeating over and over against my ears. I can feel my chest constricting, my throat tightening and hands clutching onto me to drag me down.

I get up. I pace around the room.

Keep moving. Keep going.

Don’t let their words catch you.

Don’t let your mind be clouded.

“When are you going to post more?”

“Where’s the next part?”

“Dude, why is it taking so long? Writing can’t be that hard, right?”

“Why are these drawings locked behind some pay toll? It’s just a couple of drawings – they should be free, asshole.”

“This is just like every other people. Just because you can write, or draw doesn’t mean there should be a pay bar. Make it free for all of us!”

“Hey, if anyone paid for the content, share it with the rest of us! I don’t want my money to get wasted lol”

My breath shudders.

90…91…92…

93…94…95…

“I can draw better than this bitch.”

“Seriously, you call this writing? Lol, I can make it better than that.”

“Why is there a hiatus? Fuck this shit, I’m out.”

“Dumb creator can’t fix their own rl shit #ripcreator”

96…97…98…99…

…

…

Why are people so entitled?

Why do people assume our life is expendable?

Do they not realize the blood, sweat and tears that were poured?

Or have they never tasted the blockage or burn outs that many of us face?

I don’t know…And I lost the will to muster anything beyond despair.

I stop pacing.

I stop moving.

I set myself back onto the chair and sigh, staring…My vision blurs. I blink.

It feels like something’s broken in me.

Something hollow.

Something empty.

These people who have seen my work, watched it, continue to berate me. Mock me. Haunt me. Like I’m nothing but a singular number to them.

…No.

A number earns more respect than that.

They have value.

They have a purpose.

I’m just a zero to them.

I’m nothing.

I’m just an empty waste of space.

I’m just a failed creator.

I’m…I’m just a waste of time.

No one would miss me.

…

…

…

“I love your work.”

I raise my head. A person stands out, amongst the hate. The hate goes silent. The person continues typing out.

Please don’t take their words to heart. You’ve gotten me through tough times.

It hurts a lot to have people bully you about what you love.

I know.

But I still think they’re awesome.

I know they’re great.

You put so much heart and effort in them.

Even if people say your stuff sucks,

I still think they’re worth living for.

And I know there’s at least one person out there who would agree with me.

Like how there’s one community who cares about what you do.

Sure enough, that one person invites another…and another…and so much more.

“Give them a break! They’ve been working their ass off!”

“They’re already publishing so hard in between their free time!”

“I love the way you draw the eyes.”

“I’m crying over this RO – I want to hug them so bad!”

“I love their personality. I’ll need to try romancing them with a different MC!”

“This is so cool!”

“Please take care of yourself – take all the time you need.”

These words make me elevate. The suffocation, the hands, the pressure.

They disappear. I smile. I laugh. I cry from the absolute relief as I wipe away the signs of my pure joy at the recognition. All from someone who loves my work.

If the world considers me something worse than 0, then I can consider myself 00. I will agree to that.

Because in the end, I only need one to feel like 100.

[xiakaile]

I need to get out of my mind so would you be so kind to take a walk and just talk with me go to a place where we leave this behind a place where we find how not to rush and just be

[ladyangelsea]

💖𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗢𝗦💖 Another piece for Writers Write Snippets! In this snippet, Neve tries to make a mosaic and it doesn't go to well! Lol 😅 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 - 𝗡𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗧𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝘆 Chaos overtook the throne room. A drop cloth had scattered tiles strewn across it. I did not know why I decided to create a mosaic on my own. But, here I was, struggling and trying to get the pieces to stick. I wanted to cry as I watched all the tiles fall off the wall one by one. Frustrated, I let out a sigh. “Hey,” a familiar voice said behind me. I turned away and cringed, looking down at the mess I had made. My chin dipped down, and I curled my arms around my torso. I couldn’t bear to look at him. A deep blush spread across my cheeks. I cleared my throat. “Hey, what are you doing here?” “A little birdie told me you were attempting a tile mosaic on your own,” Ardit grinned. “I came to save you from your own creative destruction.” 💖💖💖 #nationaltileday #mosaicart #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writingsnippet #fictionwriting #creativewriting #authorlife #bookish #chaosart https://www.instagram.com/p/CpIumCTLfuz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bi-bats]

1, 10, 19, & 31 for the ask game pls? 💖

TAURIAAAA!!!! HI!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

ooh probably rooftops and bookshops. I really really really dislike the prose in it now that I've found more of a voice and I think the difference between that fic and my more recent stuff is so so blatant, but I do stand firmly by all of the plot points in that fic. That said, I'm not allowed to touch it because if I start I'll never stop, and I'd rather write new stuff than tweak the same old thing forever.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Enemies to lovers, fake dating, amnesia!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Bart’s halfway through peeling the first clementine, the sharp citrusy smell permeating the air over the odor of burnt rubber from the trash, when he looks up. His thumb digs in a little too hard, breaking through the rind and into the fruit, a few drops of the juice splattering up his wrist. Kon looks at him from the entryway, almost surprised to see him there.  Bart stares back. He's still angry from yesterday, and he doesn’t feel like pretending he isn’t.  It must be obvious on his face, because Kon's surprised expression melts into more of a resigned irritation, and he strides past Bart, taking the half-peeled clementine out of his hands.  “Why does it smell like that time Tim accidentally put a cutting board in the oven?” Kon asks as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, his voice gruff with sleep. Bart starts peeling a new clementine, and he’s done by the time Kon’s pouring his coffee. He starts another.  “Fucked up my sneakers yesterday. Had to throw ‘em out.”  “I thought you had that friction barrier thing or whatever,” Kon says. The way he phrases it like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about grates at him. Why can’t Kon just admit that he gives a shit? Bart shrugs instead of answering, glaring at the peeled fruit.  He separates out the segments of the ones he peeled, pulling off those stringy white bits as he goes. His leg is tapping so fast against the chair, the noise it makes sounds vaguely like the blades of a helicopter.  Kon sighs and sits down next to him, leaning his head on Bart’s shoulder. He puts the clementine he was holding down on the counter in front of them and Bart picks it up. As he’s about to start peeling it, Kon takes it out of his hands and puts it back where it was. When Bart picks up another one, Kon takes that too, putting it down next to the other one like he wants Bart’s full attention. A tight, annoyed noise works its way out of Bart’s throat, and Kon’s TTK worms around him, feeling like an arm around his shoulder even though both of Kon’s hands are on his mug. “I’m not sorry,” Kon says, his hands tightening around the mug. “Me neither,” Bart answers, still glaring at the fruit.

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

Definitely Rooftops & Bookshops, but only because of the "in the end you made it." Otherwise, I'd say Know Yourself, because I am struggling with that fic SO much right now. I'm struggling with writing in general right now but that fic specifically is giving me a very hard time. I do have faith that I will make it though, especially since it's all plotted out! I just have to. You know. Finish it.

send me an ask!

[teonatsu-kathy]

A Tiny Glimpse into Hope Potter's World ✨

I couldn't resist! Here's a tiny, spoiler-free snippet from my new fanfiction, giving you a taste of the magic (and perhaps a hint of the drama!):

"They claimed I opened my eyes first. Mum dubbed me "the observant one." His words were: "She looks like she knows too much already." When they lay me beside James, he yelled, and I immediately struck him in the face with my tiny fist. Balance, I think."

Even from birth, Hope was destined to be a force! Stay tuned for more!

[athersgeo]

NaNo Day 14

"Damn." Edward looked back over his shoulder. "I was hoping you'd tell me otherwise."

"Why?"

"Because it's one thing to know the supernatural exists. It's quite another to be faced with that reality. And no, " Edward added, "you, my friend, do not quite count as supernatural."

[author-ml-mckenzie]

A Snippet from Project Marilyn-Elizabeth #2

I was four when my parents left. Four, old enough to understand that I would never see them again, old enough to know that they would never come back for me, old enough to know that the home that they had built was gone forever but too young to understand why they had left me, too young to understand what revenge was,  too young to understand what suicide was or why people did it, too young to understand why no one knew whether my parents had died by chose or had been murdered, too young to understand why parents would want to leave me.