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#writblr
Psst hey!! Over here!
Fic writers and original story writers are the same!
Writing fanfics doesn't make you any less of a writer!
Yall are just gatekeepers. Stop being assholes. There's room for everyone!
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"People are asking questions about where you've been for the last three years."
"PR's not my department. I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Not if you don't give me anything to go on."
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💖 You don't have to write for a specific audience.
💖 You don't have to write for any audience.
💖 You don't have to write for mass market appeal.
💖 You don't have to know who your audience will be.
💖 It's totally fine to write just for yourself.
💖 It's totally fine to write for a niche audience.
💖 It's totally fine to write fiction you know many people will hate.
💖 Your writing will find its audience on it's own.
💖 It can feel better to have 3 people who authentically like the story that you wanted to tell, than to change your own story so more people will like it.
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novlr · 1 day
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Clarity over flowery
Don’t rely too heavily on a thesaurus when trying to improve your writing.
Clarity is always better than complicated language, so if it doesn’t come naturally to you, don’t try to force flowery language into your work.
Word choice should always elevate, never dominate.
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ten-in · 12 hours
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ribassstuff · 1 day
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A bench in the street can be a good writer because all kind of material comes onto it like a heavy rain!
-Mehmet Murat ildan
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akwardsilince · 2 days
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Person A: "You can choose either your friends or the whole world."
Person B: "What if I choose neither?"
Person A: "what."
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What I’ve been told vs What I’m experiencing.
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marlynnofmany · 11 hours
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The Right Time and Place
I was just sitting down for lunch alongside most of the crew when Captain Sunlight joined us with an announcement. She tapped her claws against the doorframe for attention.
“Minor detour before we reach the station,” she said when everyone quieted. “We’re taking a different wormhole, and doing a job on the way. This is a weird one. The client was cagey with the details. He said not to tell anyone else, so of course I’m telling all of you. Because you deserve to know what you’re getting into. Even if we’re not entirely sure what we’re getting into.” She shook her lizardy head in exasperation.
Zhee spoke up. “What’s the task, and why are we doing it?”
“We’re parking the ship briefly,” said the captain, waving vaguely in what I assumed was the direction of the wormhole. “In the middle of nowhere, at a precise location and time, staying there for at least fifteen minutes. Then we go get paid.”
“Huh,” said Paint. “That is weird.”
“Before anyone asks, I did press the client for specifics. He promises there are no hazards of any kind, and willingly signed every form I threw at him. He paid half up front. He paid extra! This is clearly very important, and he didn’t want to say why. But we’re covered if anything untoward happens, which it shouldn’t.”
Mur waved a tentacle. “He’s probably a spy. That’s my vote.”
Eggskin took a lid off a food dish with the air of someone deliberately not paying attention. “Spies are generally more subtle. In my experience.”
I made a mental note to ask Eggskin about that later. Zhee was talking now.
“What type of person was this client?” he asked. “As far as you know.”
Captain Sunlight recited a list, counting on her knuckles as she did. “Wealthy, planet-based, human, young adult…”
“Aw, human?” I said. “I would have liked to be there for that conversation, see if I could pick up any clues from body language. Did he seem calm, or twitchy like he knew it was a bad idea?”
Captain Sunlight spread her hands. “I’m sure I don’t know. But you’re free to speculate. It will be a while before we arrive at the designated location; you all may as well finish lunch. I just wanted to keep everyone informed.”
Nobody else had questions, so she left to tell the others who hadn’t heard yet. Mimi was still in the engine room, and Trrili was finishing a translation with Coals. Aside from Wio in the cockpit, that was all of us here.
And we were ready to talk about it.
“Maybe it’s a sport!” suggested Blip. “One we haven’t heard of yet!”
“Like what?” asked Blop. “He would have said if a ball was going to hit our ship, or something like that.”
“No, I mean like a strategy game, with pieces scattered around the galaxy. Maybe light has to reflect off our ship or something.”
“I still think he’s a spy,” insisted Mur.
Zhee turned back to his food. “I expect he’s an imbecile. Perhaps he lost something drifting in space, and wanted our ship to intercept it ‘accidentally.’”
Paint shook her head. “No, he would have said if something was on a collision course, even something soft.”
“I think it’s science,” Kavlae said, popping open a can of something. “No idea what the experiment is, or what we’re helping to accomplish, but something.”
I’d been thinking up other possibilities, and a new one occurred to me. “I wonder,” I said, “If he’s doing a really complicated marriage proposal.”
“A what?” Zhee asked, cleaning his mandibles in the bug-alien equivalent of licking his lips. “Oh, a mating offer. Aren’t those always complicated for your species?”
“They can be,” I said. “Some people like to make grand gestures, like pay to have it written in the sky, or something else visible and dramatic. I could see our ship being a last-minute replacement for one that couldn’t make it to the lineup in time.”
“Hm,” Zhee said noncommitally. “How embarrassing.” Then he stuck his face back in the bowl of intestines or whatever, and I looked somewhere else.
“That would be exciting,” Paint said. “I wonder if the captain asked about any other ships in the region.”
“Guess we’ll find out,” said Mur as he cracked a walnut with one tentacle. (Walnut-ish, at any rate. It looked kind of purple.)
“I hope we find out!” I said. “If the client manages to keep it a secret, I think we’ll all be disappointed.” The others agreed, and I turned my attention back to my own lunch. It was a peanut butter and honey sandwich, with apple slices and a fruit-and-veg smoothie. All tasty stuff. Not a soul onboard aside from me was going to touch the honey, because apparently they didn’t grow up on planets where “insect spit and nectar” was a popular food item. Their loss.
Lunch passed without incident, and so did the time until we arrived at the super-secret rendezvous point. Everybody who didn’t have something more important to do loitered in the hallway outside the cockpit, hoping for clues. Apparently this patch of space was empty as we approached, which ruled out a couple theories.
Paint clicked her claws together nervously. “Are we sure we’re not bait for something? I know he signed the forms…”
Wio called from the pilot’s seat, “There is absolutely nothing on the scanners, and I’ve got them set to max. Short of another space worm adventure, nothing’s going to sneak up on us.”
Kavlae made a considering sound. “That would be some interesting science.”
I had to laugh. “Interesting is one word for it!” The time we’d seen a new wormhole being created — courtesy of the space worms being chased by something larger and worse — there had been far more panic than scientific curiosity. “I’m pretty sure no one’s figured out how to track space worms, much less predict where they’re going to be with this kind of accuracy.”
“Has the timing started yet?” Zhee asked.
Captain Sunlight said over her shoulder, “We’re here early. I wanted to give us time to take our position with absolute certainty.”
There was some grumbling (mostly from Zhee), and we settled in to wait.
Finally Captain Sunlight announced the beginning of the timer, and we waited some more. Not a thing stirred. Wio kept a constant eye on all the scanners and sensors, while the rest of us watched the screens as best we could without crowding in there and getting in the way. Nothing happened.
“And we’re done,” said the captain. “Anticlimactic is better than crisis. Wio, take us in to the station.”
Wio did, aiming for the nearest wormhole and making the trip with more disappointing uneventfulness.
Thankfully for everyone’s curiosity, the client was within hailing distance when we exited into the space station’s territory.
Mur whispered, “I thought he was based on a planet?” while the captain set up the call.
Zhe clicked a pincher quietly. “Either he left it, or he’s a liar.”
Paint shushed him as the client appeared on screen. He really was a human: about college age, naturally tan skin, artificially blonde hair. A fashion sense that I would tactfully describe as “rich person nonsense.” So much metallic embroidery; sheesh.
He was polite enough, and all I was getting from his body language was that he was anxious about whether we’d done the weird job correctly. It was probably a good thing the camera didn’t reach into the hallway where all of us were staring at him.
Captain Sunlight went over the details calmly, and convinced the guy that we’d fulfilled our end of the bargain. He authorized the money transfer and looked relieved, muscles relaxing visibly.
I was pretty sure these weren’t the mannerisms of someone setting up a marriage proposal. He’d still be nervous about that. What was it?
On behalf of all of us, Captain Sunlight asked again. “What sort of sensitive nature is this task we’ve just done for you? I hope we won’t face repercussions down the line for obstructing some lawmaker’s telescopic view of a crime, or playing unwitting decoy.”
Apparently the good captain had also been thinking up possible scenarios. Those hadn’t even occurred to me.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said, waving both hands. “Well, almost— No, it’s nothing like that.”
“No?” asked Captain Sunlight with a lift of her chin. “Which one is almost? Might we be a suspect in some criminal case now?”
“No, no!” He was getting really flustered now. “It’s the telescope one.”
“So a lawmaker was watching us sitting there suspiciously?”
“No!” He threw his hands in the air. “I tripped on the steps, all right? In public, boarding my ship, I fell all the way down the stairs and it was terrible. I had to bribe everybody who was there in person to keep it to themselves, but I’m going to go visit someone and—” He bit off the rest of the sentence. “That someone likes to borrow their planet’s largest telescope to watch me leave when I do. Your ship blocked the view. Thanks to wormholes and my top-notch computing formula, I was able to arrange it all before the light traveled that many light years away from home.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up completely. “Now please, don’t tell anybody!”
Captain Sunlight assured him that she wouldn’t spread it around, and bid him a regal goodbye. The screen clicked off.
The snickering in the hallway turned into full-blown laughter.
Trrili stalked up to join us, with Coals walking just outside of accidental pincher-poke range. “What was it?” she demanded. “Was the client an imbecile?”
“Yes,” Zhee told her. “But not in a way we expected.”
Paint was still laughing. “He didn’t want somebody to see that he fell down the stairs!”
Mur filled her in on the other details, but Trrili’s antennae angled into a frown. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not simply threaten witnesses and be done with it?”
“I suspect,” I said, “That the person watching was someone he has a crush on. He doesn’t want them to think badly of him.”
Trrili looked at Zhee. “Human mating rituals?”
“Looks that way.”
Trrili turned her faceted glare towards me. “Why do your people make things so complicated?”
I laughed. “Hey, this was overkill as far as I’m concerned too! If the person you want to date can’t handle a little pratfall like that, then they’re clearly not a good choice.”
Trrili was quiet for a moment, then said, “Two legs. Right. This must come up often for you.”
“It really doesn’t!”
She shook her head and turned away.
Paint spoke up helpfully: “You should hear about the mating proposals that they write in the sky!”
“Very no thank you.”
As Trrili walked away and the rest of the crew found other things to do, Paint told me, “I do want to hear about those. How do they write them? Does the answer go in the sky too?”
“Not for the proposals I’ve seen,” I said. “But there’s always a first.”
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!
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noajakah236482 · 2 days
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Beneath that Smile [pt.1]
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Every time you look at me, envy fills your eyes
The once flare in your eyes, now dim in mine, is it that I stole the sunshine
I don't want that
the once bright light in your eyes, now dim in mine, is it that I stole the spotlight
I don't think I can
I feel guilty as you stare at me with those envious eyes
I wish I could take away your despair
but I don’t think I can
I don’t want you to worry so I fake
but beneath that smile of mine lies a broken heart and a soul in ache
I know you see things in a twisted way sometimes
You want what I have, or so you say
I hide my pain and sadness, maybe that’s why?
I dont want you to worry so I fake
but beneath that smile of mine lies a broken heart and a soul in ache
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Me>>> I'm not really good at poetry like this, it's my first try but I had to write it because I didn't want to bottle up my emotions anymore
So I wrote like really long poem today because well.. I was on a call with my sister and she said she's jealous of me and my 'perfect' life. I wish she stopped saying that because my life is definitely not a fairytale. Her's isn't either I suppose but she envies me for stuff that no one cares about and she's got beauty brains and talent. I have none. Even if i do, she's better than me and yes I'm jealous of her too but I don't voice it because if her being envious hurts me maybe it will hurt her too...
But it's true... I have nothing that she can be jealous about because she's what my mother wants me to
She's what I should be
Yet, she's the one envious of me
And it hurts me so much, I don't want her to feel bad about herself because of me
I feel guilty
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prompts-in-a-barrel · 5 hours
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"I really admire your courage for going through with this."
"Courage has nothing to do with it."
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I have a question about queer coding: is there a way to do that without making like... a stereotype?
No, there isn't. Queer coding is *literally about* stereotypes. Its when you use stereotypes to make your audience assume the character is queer without saying it directly or having them do anything queer.
The word you are looking for is queer subtext. Queer subtext is when the narrative subtly hints that there is a queer reading or queer interpretation of the character without stating it directly.
But really, queer coding and queer subtext are all about censorship and taboo.
If you are a member of a society where queer media is not suffering censorship, and you can "get away with it"-- the best way to portray queer characters is not with subtext or with coding.
It's by openly writing explicitly queer characters.
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chaotic-orphan · 8 hours
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Hi, hope you’re having a nice day!! Love your writing :) Could you please continue heroic betrayal if you’re planning to?? Not to rush you or anything, it’s just got me slightly hooked oops! Thank you!! :)
HEROIC BETRAYAL (6)
Part one here
Continued from here
This part has had so many drafts, so so many, because I couldn’t get Supervillain right at all, and today? For some reason! It all just flowed! So you are in luck! It’s the paddy’s day weekend, struck gold! Enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*
They walked in a tense silence that made Hero squirm. The two of them were always chatting, or having banter back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. Now, with Flynn marching Hero up a set of stairs, it felt as if they were two strangers. As if Flynn was actually a Villain.
He is, a voice sniped in the back of Hero’s mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his Hero façade.
Hero kept their guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. Hero expected to be greeted with the view of a warehouse, or some top secret villain base. Maybe something from the movies, or an equal to the Hero tower HQ.
Instead, their gaze found a house. Hero frowned, wanting to turn their head and comment on it to Flynn but they didn’t. They refused. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.
“Through here,” said Flynn, pulling Hero to the right. Hero caught only a glance of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, of Flynn and Villain as children and a man and woman smiling in the picture above them. Hero swallowed.
Were they in Flynn’s childhood home this entire time?
It’s not what Hero expected at all. It was clean, almost pristinely so with wooden oak floors and a warm, homely feel to it. Clean and yet lived in.
Hero closed their lips, and just let Flynn guide them through another door into a dining room. Hero’s brows raised to the ceiling, looking at Flynn in question before they could help it.
Flynn curled his top lip inward, his tell for when he was embarrassed. “Supervillain insisted,” he said by way of explanation and brought Hero to the end of the table. It sat six people, two chairs on each end and two on both sides.
Flynn pulled out Hero’s chair and quirked his lips at them. “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”
“You can always stop me if I do,” Hero replied sweetly, sugared smile not quite meeting their eyes.
Flynn’s smile was cold in return. “I can. Or Villain, whichever is quicker.”
Hero felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in their heart like a rose’s thorns wrapped thick around it. Hero didn’t reply to that, they just sat down on the chair lifting their handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push in their chair.
Flynn sat beside them, on their right. Hero could have laughed at the horribleness of it all. Flynn sat on Hero’s right because after endless sparring they had both realised it was Hero’s weaker hand. If Hero was going to do something stupid, going for their right hand side would be easier to subdue than their left.
How had they not seen the warning signs? How had they not realised that Flynn was working against them this entire time?
Hero trusted them. They thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against them, Hero could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.
Now all their trust was twisted against them mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at them with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt them more.
Hero heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them, different than the door that Flynn and Hero entered the room through. There was a lively bustling of movement and then a man in his late thirties, early forties walked through the doors with a wide friendly smile holding two plates of something.
He had wavy brown hair, slightly overgrown around the edges, some strands tucked behind his ears Hero noticed. His eyes were sea-coloured, somewhere between green and blue, but shining with a happiness that Hero didn’t expect of Supervillain.
Then it hit Hero that they were staring at Supervillain. The Supervillain! Hero’s nemesis, their foe— the man who was always one step ahead of Hero. Hero glanced at Flynn, almost mutinously before Supervillain drew Hero’s attention back to them.
Supervillain set a plate of food in front of Hero with a big smile, then walked around Hero and placed one in front of Flynn. It was what looked like roast chicken and green beans and roast potatoes. Hero stared down at it, their mouth watering slightly and a gnawing yearning in their gut for food.
How long had they been here? Overnight at least because it was day time at the moment. Hero looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Hero then to Hero’s plate and dragged it over to him.
“Hey—”
“Relax, I’m just cutting up your chicken. You’re not getting a knife.”
Hero waited, watching Flynn cut up the food. Then they sat back against their chair, eyes going to the doors to see Supervillain was gone. Flynn pushed Hero’s plate back in front of them. Then Supervillain came through again followed closely by Villain, a shadow like fist holding something that was dropped in front of Hero. It smacked against the table lightly with a bounce and Hero realised it was a plastic fork.
Everyone else had proper utensils.
Hero waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before speaking. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”
Supervillain’s smile didn’t dim. “As you like it, Hero. Though, if I drugged you with the chicken or the vegetables I would have drugged us all.”
Hero didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much their stomach wanted them to. Flynn grabbed Hero’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”
Hero’s head snapped to him. “And how do I know this wasn’t all some planned ploy?”
“You don’t,” said Flynn honestly, meeting Hero’s gaze earnestly. Hero had to look away before they cried. Stupid fucking Flynn.
“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Hero’s gaze. “If I wanted to starve you, I wouldn’t have plated you up a meal. I would have handcuffed you to the chair and let you smell the food and watch us eat.”
Hero swallowed, gaze hardening into a glare as Supervillain tilted his head and shrugged lightly. “However, if you don’t want to eat I won’t force you.”
Hero sat back stubbornly, eyes not leaving Supervillain as he tucked into his divine smelling meal.
“Flynn said you wanted to talk to me.”
“I do,” Supervillain replied. “As soon as we have eaten. It’s bad for the stomach to mix work and pleasure.”
Hero blinked at him, then stared back at their plate. The steam was still rising from it, begging for Hero to eat it. Hero swallowed again, finally reaching for the fork that was discarded in front of their plate.
Nobody at the table made any remarks as Hero took their first bite of chicken. They didn’t even feel eyes on them as they ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as they filled the hole in their stomach.
All too soon their plate was empty and Hero set their fork back on the plate, sitting back in their seat, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at them from across the table.
“Well?”
Hero swallowed. “Really good.”
Supervillain’s smile beamed at them. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”
Flynn’s eyes went between Hero and Supervillain, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Supervillain looked at him. It stifled the words in his throat and he nodded and gathered his and Hero’s plate. “Sure.”
Villain did the same with their and Supervillain’s plate. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”
Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Hero, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Then the double doors shut on both of them and it was just Hero and Supervillain alone.
Hero’s chest got tighter at the realisation. How many times had they longed to get to sit down with Supervillain and pick his brain on his strategies and plans? How long had they wanted to know his motivations behind it all? What the bigger picture was…
Now, Hero wanted to be anywhere but here.
Supervillain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table hands folded in front of him. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”
Hero scoffed and looked away. “I’d hardly call myself a fan.”
“Of course,” he replied pleasantly. “A hero would never admire a villain after all.”
“That’s in the job description.”
“Tell me, did you ever admire Flynn?”
Hero’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile was less pleasant now, more shrewd. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips still quirked into a smile.
“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was always a Villain.”
“Yes. However, that is not what I asked you.” Hero swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”
“Yes,” said Hero patiently. They couldn’t lose their cool now, they had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. “He was my partner. Obviously I admired him.”
Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Hero. He’s a villain. How can a Hero ever admire a Villain?”
“If you want to get into some philosophical debate I’d rather Villain bash my nose against the bars of my cell again.”
Supervillain’s lips pursed. “If you like.”
The words ran like cold water down Hero’s spine. “However,” he continued, “I’d rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”
Hero swallowed the lump that was rising in their throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Hero that he had no reservations about Villain killing them? It isn’t anything like Hero thought he would be.
“You wouldn’t let them,” said Hero licking their lips, making an effort not to make a face at the taste of salt and iron of dried blood dancing along their tastebuds.
Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”
“No,” Hero echoed then swallowed. “Even if you did let Villain hurt me or torture me, or whatever, you wouldn’t let them kill me. You’d rather draw it out slowly.”
Supervillain raised his hands, elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he stared at Hero. His sea green eyes looked stormy now, the twisting murky colour piercing through Hero’s soul. His smile was anything but friendly now.
Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Hero expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Hero had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Hero noticed their heart beating faster in their chest.
“And you say you’re not a fan,” Supervillain said, a perceptible knowing coating every smooth syllable.
“I’m not a fan of you hurting people. Killing people.”
“And yet it’s all you heroes ever seem to respond to.” Hero’s retort died in their throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”
Goading? What goading? Hero’s brows furrowed down over their eyes, shadowing them slightly as their mind ran over Supervillain’s words.
“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed fondly. “Flynn said you have a look when you’re trying to solve a riddle, this must be it.”
“I don’t have a look,” Hero spat, ignoring the blush that coloured their cheeks.
“Of course you do, dear Hero. We all do. That’s why in poker you have to learn to mask your tells.”
“Are we playing poker, Supervillain?”
“No, hardly. Though I’d wager I could win your money as easy as it took me to tank that developmental property on seventh.”
Hero hope their glare was burning a hole through Supervillain’s skull until they realised they were playing right into his hands and dissolving. Hero licked their lips and leaned forward in their chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of them.
“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, was it? You wanted me to follow Villain. You wanted them to catch me,” Hero said. Them was much easier than saying Flynn out loud.
Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”
“And bring me here to meet you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Supervillain’s eyes flashed, something glinting within them. “Because Hero, I’ve wanted to meet you as much as you’ve wanted to meet me.”
Hero held up their cuffed hands. “Couldn’t have done it more civilly?”
“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed, resting his palms flat on the table and pushing his chair back. Hero’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and started making his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Hero like a cat playing with a mouse. Hero wanted to not move, to not show him the effect he had on Hero, but their body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Hero the more they shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to their feet and — and then what?
Supervillain stopped beside Hero’s chair, one hand on the back of it, the other hooking a finger around the small length of chain that kept Hero’s wrists locked together. He pulled it up, Hero’s arms going with it involuntarily until Supervillain held Hero’s arms up high over their head.
Hero grit their teeth as their shoulders strained from their sitting position.
“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain tilting his head. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Hero at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”
Hero tugged their arms down suddenly but they may as well not have for the lot of good it did them. Supervillain leaned down, his face close to Hero’s as he grinned.
“You should have struck first, little Hero. Then maybe the roles would be reversed, but as of right now—” Supervillain’s eyes darkened. “I control the board.”
*~*~*~*~*
Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill
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novlr · 14 hours
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hello, I’m a new writer here on tumblr. I’ve been posting my writing lately but that seems to attract not even a single person. And I want people to review my writings and post down their opinions on it..how do I get people to view my writing here?
Like any social media platform, you get out of Tumblr what you put in.
Tumblr is all about community, so it's important to make sure you engage, not just put out content. We've put together this article in the Reading Room that's all about how writers can get the most out of Tumblr.
But we also have some great resources for more general book marketing that have some transferrable information for any social media platform you might be using to promote your work.
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thepenultimateword · 20 hours
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Prompt #275
Other Hero blinked a couple times at the figure in front of them, trying to make sense of the words coming out of their perfect, pretty mouth. They looked so shiny in their hero uniform, all bright colors and unsoiled fabric. That was the thing about constant interviews. They kept your hands clean while everyone else’s got dirtier.
“Look, I know this might be hard for you to grasp,” Other Hero said, “but I’m not one of your fans.”
“I know.” Hero looked at the ground. “But I thought maybe…you like food and it’s only one evening and I’ll pay for everything, and it doesn’t have to be a ‘date date’ just a get to know you thing…get together…I don’t know.”
“You are sweating buckets right now.”
Hero cringed. “I’ve been working myself to this for weeks.”
Other Hero frowned. This made no sense. “You know it would be a thousand times easier for you if you just asked out one of your millions of followers.”
“But I don’t like them, I like you.”
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Dear female writers, never feel bad for writing a soft feminine woman who wants a family. There is nothing wrong with writing that like there’s nothing wrong with wanting that.
Women can be soft and feminine while being well written.
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