#creative writing
error-404-code9 · a day ago
Something about Character A, who’s had a hard life, learned to trust no one except for themselves and overall just doesn’t feel worthy of love, meeting Character B, who has no sense of personal space.
B, who hits people when they laugh, cackling and tapping A says “oh sorry” and A goes, “no, you’re fine.”
B, who slams a high-five into A’s hand and shouts, “That was awesome! You were so good! I can’t believe you did that” And A just looks down and smiles, “thank you, thank you.”
A, who sees B just laughing and talking with the bad guy, not knowing, and has to slowly drag B away from them
When B’s friends tell them that their being obnoxious and making people uncomfortable, B stops being so loud and affectionate. But A has none of it. B walks past A and their like “Ayo what the fuck? Where’s my hug.” Like genuinely offended.
B tells A what they were told and A is like “oh okay so they have a death wish. Well let’s go have a chat with your ‘friends’”
It’s pretty common AND YET I EAT IT UP EVERYTIME.
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Deep Water Prompt #2652
A piece of living armor is nothing if not loyal, so the use of someone else’s is significant no matter the circumstances.
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lyralit · a day ago
what to write next; wip writers' block edition:
switch POVs (this would differ if you really want it to be limited, but if you do switch, make sure to keep it [somewhat] consistent)
introduce a new character
scrap the planning and go off the rails (literally and figuratively)
kill off a character
turn something the characters have been chasing into something that doesn't exist
destroy the thing they've been chasing just when they get it
introduce another subplot
turn one of the mc's trusted characters into a traitor
what would you do to make your mc's life as difficult as possible? oh, that's evil. do it.
send the mc on a wild goose chase
make the mc screw up really, really badly
enact the Fatal Flaw™—make this make them screw up
the mc does something that splits up their group and renders them not trustworthy
the mc betrays their group
the characters are forced to sacrifice something dear
the villain dies
the villain is killed by an underling who is even worse than the original villain
introduce the person who controls the villain
kill off the mc's motivation
what would give the villain absolute power? a gateway to achieve their goal? do it, or if you can't, nudge them in the right direction
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sweetpeauserboxes · a day ago
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[id: a light green userbox with a pastel green border, and pastel green text that reads “this user`s special interest is creative writing.” on the left is an image of black cursive writing. /end id]
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thepenultimateword · 2 days ago
okayokayokay, if you have some time:
We all know and hate those people who leave their shopping carts in the way, right? Well... Supervillain is that kind of person. And Villain hates it, because they know how awkward it is to not know if you should push the cart to the side or just wait for the owner of the cart to come back. And they always tell their partner to push the cart to the side, but of course, Supervillain being an asshole, still leaves it in the way.
Just thought that it could be kinda cute, cuz you know, almost everyone has been there before-
I adore this! Even more so because it’s a Supervillain x Villain request: my weakness 😅 And a domestic, cozy Supervillain x Villain at that? *chef’s kiss*
“Pleeease, Supervillain,” Villain begged, tugging on the bigger criminal’s arm in an attempt to drag their foot off the edge of their grocery cart. “You’ve already made one person turn around and two barely squeeze by! It’s embarrassing!”
Supervillain continued pretending to browse the boxed dinner section, hovering their finger way longer than anyone should over 50 cent mac and cheese. They glanced down in exaggerated surprise. "I’m sorry, were you saying something?”
Villain held back a childish whine. They never should have told Supervillain they were going grocery shopping in the first place. Inconveniencing people was like catnip to them. Parking a little into the next space, blocking the aisle with their cart, leaving items randomly strewn in the wrong sections of the store, etc. Sometimes these little actions showed their evil colors more than their taking-over-the-city routine.
"Someone's going to get mad," Villain said. Seemed like they couldn't cut the whine completely.
Supervillain pinched their cheek and stared down at them like a cute baby, though their voice was dead serious when they said, "You're a villain, shouldn't you be used to that by now?"
"The mild contempt makes me so uncomfortable! it's not even real loathing!"
"Excuse me," a civilian said as if on cue, rolling their cart up just behind theirs.
Villain snapped out of Supervillain's grip. "Of course, sorry."
They tugged on the cart's handle, but Supervillain didn't budge, raising their eyebrows at Villain tauntingly before turning back to eeny meeny miny moeing Riceroni flavors.
"Heh," Villain smiled awkwardly at the customer whose face was beginning to twist into annoyance. "Um, darling, do you think you could let me move the cart?"
"Mmmm, not really, kinda busy right now."
The civilian glared, but Villain's pushing and pulling did no good. They shrugged helplessly and ducked behind Supervillain's arm, eyes squeezed shut and forehead bowed against their elbow so they wouldn't have to face the annoyed shopper a moment longer.
A loud clang of metal on metal and a thin vibration through Supervillain's muscles made Villain's eyes shoot back open.
The civilian rammed their cart into the narrow space several times until Supervillain's cart was pushed enough centimeters to the side for them to barely squeeze through. As they passed by, they shot Villain one last look and muttered. "Little wuss."
Supervillain's foot suddenly dropped to the tile with a soft clap, hawkish eyes flicking after the shopper dangerously. Their fist tightened on the newly freed cart’s handle, and they gave it a few small test rolls back and forth before shoving it viciously at the retreating civilian's back. The nose of the cart slammed into their rear, sending them careening into their own cart which promptly slipped from their hands. A loud thunk echoed up the aisle as they landed flat on their face.
The civilian rose up on the heels of their hands and blew their hair aggressively out of their face as they whipped back around.
"What's wrong with you!" Blood stained their teeth. "You wanna die?"
Bad choice of wording for this particular person. Supervillain looked at them from under their lashes, a dangerous curl to their lip already revealing their revolted opinion of this civilian. Like they were nothing more than a maggot in their oatmeal.
"I could skin you," they hissed through their teeth. It was the tone they used in costume with hostages or heroes, and the proud civilian immediately shrank into a puddle beneath it.
"I could slice you raw and then leave you somewhere small and dark where no one would ever find you. Deep in the seaside cavern where the salt cuts and the crabs slowly rip away at you. And soon enough, they'd just stop looking. I could create problems so much bigger than you that they forget about you completely. A little meaningless blip that fades into dust."
The civilian trembled all over, pressing their forehead to the ground in instinctual groveling. Villain drooled a little. Supervillain was so cool!
The civilian barely dared to look Supervillain in the face now, and they struggled to find the words required of them in their barren mouth.
"I-I'm sorry," they finally managed.
"Not to me, to them." Supervillain grabbed Villain by the shoulders and steered them out in front of them. Villain's face went hot.
"I'm r-really sorry," the civilian tried again. "Please forgive me."
Supervillain looked to Villain now, expression egging them to refuse the apology and let Supervillain really torture them.
"It's ok," Villain said instead. "Just, um, be nicer next time."
Supervillain huffed disappointedly but turned away to pluck a few macaroni packets off the shelf, allowing the terrified civilian to slip away quietly. The poor thing didn't even bother to take their lost cart.
Supervillain strode over to both discarded carts and began sifting through the abandoned items.
"You know this is why you need to learn to face problems on your own," Supervillain said, transferring over a cake mix and a few oranges. "Someday a hero is going to come after you, and I won't be there. Who's going to protect you if you hide?"
"I don't hide from heroes," Villain pouted. Maybe they were a little rusty since Supervillain took such good care of them, but they could take on a cape right now if they needed to. "I just don't like awkward situations. You know that. So why were you being so mean earlier?"
"You didn't seem opposed to putting other people in an awkward situation yesterday."
"Huh?" Villain racked their brain for what Supervillain could be talking about. Yesterday was just a normal raid. They stole some stuff, fought the heroes... They jolted. "Is that what this is all about? You could've just talked to me!"
"Not nearly as fun," Supervillain smirked.
"You say I have to defend myself more, but you have to communicate better."
"Well...I was mad at you."
Villain grabbed onto Supervillain's arm. "And you still defended me?"
"Of course I did. I wouldn't abandon you over a little humiliation."
Villan grinned and gave Supervillain a light peck on the wrist. "I'm sorry, I won't call you 'angel' in front of the heroes again."
Supervillain broke away fast and cleared their throat. “Good.”
With that, they spun the cart around and speedily pushed out into the meat section, but Villain caught the blush coloring the tips of their ears.
Villain darted to catch up. "But I can still call you ‘angel’ at home, right?"
Supervillain shot an adoring smile over their shoulder. "Oh, you're obligated to call me ‘angel’ at home."
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ghostly-prompts · 2 days ago
Prompt #272
“Orange is my favorite. What’s your’s?”
“I’ve never really seen a color before, but have always liked the shape of ‘purple’ on my tongue.”
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instanceandthephrase · 7 hours ago
First Panic
I remember My hands going numb And the scent Of that musty basement While thinking of John In his casket Just before screaming For help.
Our guests upstairs Wouldn’t know Until sirens blared Even closer,
Drowning out noise Getting lower   As an ambulance wailed Soon behind
When July 4th laughs   Became moans And barbecue smoke Obscured faces Worried how mom Began screaming While my uncles Carried me limp
Onto pillows Covered with sweat Where my beating heart Kept on racing,
Caught breathless Imagining needles Piercing both legs Sensing pins.
It was summer Of 2010.
Not a day had passed Since you left me,
Standing up front While your parents Told the church Their son had met God.
I carried your coffin With friends,
Stayed silent Through solemn dinner,
Then cried all night Despite worrying The vomit just might Never cease.
That following day Was surreal.
I couldn’t even Hold down soda,
Or a piece of bread Being offered By those caterers Scared I seemed sick.
Such nausea Persisted so long,
Accompanying scenes Still repeating,
Growing like weeds Over flowers Dying from roots Feeling starved.
Though shocked, The answer made sense -
There was no choice Besides panic To explode Hiding seething frustration Falsely composed Under loads
Far too harsh For this soul Growing real fast Gaining pressure Rapidly built Asking questions Stealing innocence Lost overnight,
More than grief Would explain Or fear itself Should endanger Wishing illness Held genuine meaning Besides our deaths Always sad.
The hospital said I should eat.
They sent me home After waiting.
Watching fireworks Bordered betrayal,
Knowing safety Forever had changed.
       ⁃       J. Pigno
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peachieprompts · 2 days ago
Dialogue Prompt #206
“I am in an unbearable amount of pain.” 
“You do look a little… pale.” 
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radley-writes · 9 hours ago
Thanks a thousand times to @displayheartcode for letting me know!
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followcb · 19 hours ago
you took that
took away something
I cherished . . . loved to do
you bullied me and
I sat back and accepted it
allowed my joy to slowly dissipate
until the thing I loved
to do most became tarnished
ruined by your harassment
and now, well now, I've
chosen to walk away
from my favorite place
see, my dreaming space
has become a nightmare
entangled in bitterness and lies
all because you despise
something that in reality
isn't actual, isn't anything
has zero basis in factual
except in your sick head
and I refuse to pay the penalty
or suffer your madness
one poem more
one more message
one more brutal attack
one word more
I'm done
©️ @followcb ☆ May 23, 2022
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Angsty Question Prompts #2
Some angsty dialogue prompts for your next story!
"Is this all there is to life?"
"Don't you miss me anymore?"
"Why am I never good enough?"
"How many times do I have to say it?"
"What could be so terrible that you can't tell me?"
"Is this not what you wanted?"
"Why don't you just leave me alone?"
"What other secrets did you keep from me?"
"How can you let them do this to you?"
"When did we lose sight of what was important?"
"Why don't you understand how much you've hurt me?"
"Have you ever tried to get help?"
"Why do I feel like you're still lying?"
"When will all of this end?"
"How can you live like this?"
"Would you say that it was worth it?"
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Is this the last time I will see you?"
"Why won't you let me help you?"
"Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"
Part I
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definegodliness · a day ago
Lavishing rain
Your words flow over me Like a Zephyr on a Hot summer's day, Swelling to a breeze, cool and clean, Carrying the enticement of far off rain; Undiluted oxygen, Advancing in the cadence Of your brain waves, sent. And — I breathe in sweet anticipation, Filling my lungs All the way until Your words wash over me Like rain; fluctuating gusts, Heralding rolling sky waves; Liquid silver lining Washing away The accumulated grime and brine from Increasingly oppressive days. And I stand, lifted; Arms stretched out, liberated; Lavishing myself On the lyricism of your mind, Till the last dot of rain; Till the last line.
--- 22-5-2022, M.A. Tempels ©
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Text: The basement is empty, except for the rowboat. We have to keep it there, tethered to the stairs, just in case the tide returns. 
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lyralit · 2 days ago
writing tips: carl jung's character archetypes
the child / the innocent - looks for happiness - is afraid of being punished - R2D2, Star Wars; Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter
the orphan - looks to belong - is afraid of exclusion - Luke Skywalker, Star Wars
the hero - looks to create change - is afraid of being weak - Katniss Everdeen, the Hunger Games
the caregiver - looks to help others - is afraid of their own selfishness (sometimes from a past selfish deed) - Molly Weasley, Harry Potter
the explorer - looks for freedom - is afraid of entrapment - Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones
the rebel - looks for change - afraid of being powerless - Robin Hood, Robin Hood
the lover / the lovers - looks for connection - afraid of isolation - Anna, Frozen; Belle and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast
the creator - looks to realize their vision - afraid of mediocrity - Tony Stark, Iron Man
the jester - looks for fun and amusement - afraid of unfulfillment and boredom - Mercutio, Romeo and Juliet
the sage - looks for knowledge - afraid of deception / "wrongness" - Yoda, Star Wars
the magician - looks to alter reality - afraid of unintended results - Dr. Strange, Doctor Strange
the ruler - looks for prosperity - afraid of being overthrown - Darth Vader, Star Wars
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theworldofprompts · 2 days ago
A young mother falls in love with a coffee shop barista, only to discover they're a literal god.
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soulwr1ter · a day ago
You walked
Into the 
Mist of my love
In the stroke
Of the hands
Of Twilight
That caressed
Your soul
With the soft
Ocean of my
The golden
Of the slumberous
Smile of my clouds
In which
You floated
To me
A midnight dream
lined with
The verses
Of my soul's ink
You came
To me 
Kissing the light
Of my eyes
And I embraced
You gently
Offering the universe 
that I hold inside and
In your hands
I placed the 
of my life
You to keep
My stars
-J.Wool, Hourglass of My Life, Soul Whispers
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ghostly-prompts · 22 hours ago
Prompt #274
There’s a reason we never cross the property line.
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seafoamicecream · 21 hours ago
“You really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but you can't say the same about me, and that’s why I have to let you go.”
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el-mundo-segun-lola · 2 days ago
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El punto y coma es aquello que colocas en una oración cuando podrías terminar la idea de ese texto en ese momento, pero decidiste continuar escribiendo. 
El símbolo del punto y coma se convirtió en una representación de aquellas personas que quisieron ponerle punto final a su propia historia, pero que decidieron no hacerlo… yo soy una de estas personas. 
Hoy desperté con la viva imagen en mi cabeza de mi misma en esos peores momentos, ahora que las cosas han mejorado, ahora que el proceso psicológico y psiquiátrico ha avanzado tanto dentro de mí, ahora que siento plenamente cada una de las cosas que vivo… justo ahora me acuerdo de mí en esas situaciones y me dispuse a escribir sobre ello. No quiero escribir sobre lo que se siente intentar desaparecer para siempre ni tampoco describir aquellos pensamientos que rondaban mi cabeza por más de 21 años, la realidad es que escribir sobre eso o recordarlo me devuelve a la sensación de ansiedad. 
Recuerdo todo esto ahora porque a pesar de que quizá no lo he pasado del todo bien últimamente, aun así he logrado que eso no me lleve a un estado depresivo o a regresar aquellos pensamientos, mucho menos a los intentos. Así que me felicito a mí misma por esto. 
Recuerdo todas estas cosas de una manera diferente a como lo veía, antes me daba cierta pena y me causaba lastima el cómo fui por tantos años, pero ahora reflexionando todos esos años y todas esas vivencias me doy cuenta de que me sigo debiendo muchísimas cosas a mí misma. Me debo la vida y con ella toda la felicidad del mundo, me debo tantas caricias, amor y cuidados. Me debo a mi misma el darme toda la libertad del mundo, el cuidarme de todo aquello que intente apagar mi brillo.
Perdóname Lola por intentar acabar contigo tantas veces. Gracias por brillar tanto.
Autora: Lola Correa.
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writinginslowmotion · a day ago
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June, 1985. Wally’s Drive In. The eve of Emma Katherine’s seventeenth birthday. 
“Where do you think we should have the party?”
Audrey leaned in, took a big sip of her banana chocolate milkshake, and pursed her lips in consideration.
“The beach, but I don’t know if Emma would want that.”
“Oooh, what about the new skating rink?” Kimberly put in. She twirled a lock of chestnut hair around her long pointer finger. 
“Sure,” Audrey agreed. “Jamie, what do you think?”
It was a good question: what did Jamie think? Seeing as how she was the new girl in town, not a lot. Honestly, Jamie was just grateful that the other girls had accepted her so easily and quickly. Back in her hometown, well, suffice it to say that she hadn’t had many friends. No friends, if she was being honest with herself. And when she, her mom, and her little sister had moved here, Jamie had been nervous, but excited to start over, because her previous life had been a disaster. In this moment, squished between Audrey and Kimberly in the tiny booth at Wally’s Drive In, Jamie felt like she belonged.
She hoped the feeling never went away.
a moodboard + snippet from a short story i'm working on! it's about friendships, roller skating, 80s music and fashion, and is set in the 1980s! still trying to think of a good title.
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