The Flaky God @flaky-god - Tumblr Blog

Possible AU timelines that are more interesting than Nazis won WWII part 2/?

Post-Tookayism

AU where Y2K happens without being fixed by every active programmer, who see the effort meaningless. Computers have run their course: the computer age is effectively dead on 1/1/2000. What happened these last two decades?

Future-Futurism

Take any sci-fi genre: steampunk, dieselpunk, cyberpunk, raypunk, casette futurism, retropunk, biopunk, solarpunk etc.: and imagine its future.

Revised Panafricanism

WWII never happens, Italy never reinvades Ethiopia: Ethiopia successfully funds other African nations sovereignty, and force out European colonists and secure themselves as a world power.

Horsepunk:

Everything is still horse-powered

Anti-horsepunk:

Humans never learned how to ride horses. Huns, pilgrims, cowboys, Romans have lost their land-speed advantages. This extends to elephants (looking at you Hannibal).

Proto-Dolphinism

Peter the NASA dolphin learned how to communicate with humans

Experimental Prototypical Communal Tomorrowism (EPCOTism)

Epcot is built: era-specific details as society progresses alongside it.

WWnull

The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferninand was a failure as it should have been, no world wars ever happened.

O2null

For the more... insane... writers: The great oxygenation never happened, what kind of evolutionary tree happens when only archaebacteria rule?

@charlesoberonn

phantomrose96

You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”

Well I see that, and I raise you this:

An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.

And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.

He’s crushed by the competition every single time.

Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker.

There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.

And he wins.

Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something.

The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.

So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.

He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”

phantomrose96

There’s an international competition, and Main Character-kun and all his candy-haired rivals/peers/nakama/friends are being housed in the same hotel.

The night before the competition, some ungodly scream sounds from the Naruto-kid’s room. The rest of the cast rush in, flick on the lights, and find Naruto-kid sitting up in bed, his hair completely flat and utterly black, a pair of DIY salon gloves discarded next to his bed. He races to the mirror across the room, hands hovering in shock around his straightened hair, as though unable to recognize the boy staring back at him.

It’s… an unsettling act of personal vandalism, but Naruto-kid seems unhurt. After verifying he’s okay and reporting it to hotel security, most of the kids are content to go back to their own rooms and just double-check their own locks.

Most seem content…. Not all…

The next day, Naruto-kid is eliminated from the competition nigh-instantly. He’s given no chance to monologue about his ambitions, his friends, his hometown. Not even a second spared for a flashback to the bullying that became the formative motivator of his childhood.

No. He’s summarily eliminated by another candy-haired contestant. Naruto-kid, with his suddenly unassuming black hair, is dismissed from the arena. And Main Character-kun is distressed.

There’s a murderer on the loose. Just in no traditional sense. Another kid is shaved bald in the middle of the night, and eliminated from the competition the next day. Colored contact lenses go missing, and suddenly the red-eyed yandere girl doesn’t have a leg to stand on. She’s sent home without the slightest bit of fanfare. Someone funnels bleach into the sprinkler line, and a triggering of the fire alarm leaves a whole arena of contestants doused in the ruinous fluid. Their candy colors melt into brittle, tacky, bleachy off-orange. Not a single one survives that night’s round of eliminations.

Main Character-kun is still pink. He’s still gelled. He’s still dressed in fiery robes and platform sandals with a bandana cinched around his forehead. He hoards hair dye in his room and sleeps with one eye open. He can only watch in silence as this gruesome assassination plot unravels, without a doubt in his mind that he is the real target.

One night, there’s a knock on his door. And the twisting of a key. And the squeak of hinges swinging open. Main Character-boy’s breathing halts. His time has come.

He looks. It’s the blue-haired girl, the quiet one with self-confidence issues. Her hair is tied into twin pigtails. She’s carrying something in her right hand. Main Character boy braces for impact.

She flicks on the lights. He looks. They’re wigs, in her hand. Three of them. Purple Green and Orange, each primmed and poofed and curled to extravagant degrees.

“Here,” she offers, hand extended. “Take whichever you like. They’re extra.”

“Wait. Why…? What’s this–what’s happening?”

She takes a step forward, and she shuts the door behind her. With her free hand, she grips the blue hairline at her scalp, and she pulls back gently, revealing netting. She drops the blue hair to the ground, and pulls the netting free from her forehead, and a loose, unassuming bob of perfectly black, perfectly normal hair falls around her shoulders.

She’s unassuming in every possible regard, mundane in every sense, a girl to blend into the backdrop of millions.

“We’re not going home yet,” she says. “Not you, and not me.”

ghostfiish

chrissy i want you to know im in love with this

phantomrose96

The Comb and the Dye are in fact the real anime weapons of this series im so glad they’re wielding them as such

phantomrose96

The Main Character girl wraps her hair back up in the netting and fixes her blue wig back in place. She takes a seat in the nearby desk chair and explains why she’s here. She’s suspected for a while that she and MC-kun are the same, both normal-looking people masquerading in this candy haired world. MC-kun had seemed just a bit too distraught during the Naruto-kid incident. That was when Main Character-chan first noticed him, and when she recognized his shade of candy pink hair by its bottle brand.

MC-chan explains that she had lived a very normal and unassuming life. She did Stage Crew in middle school for the drama club, always the unnoticed extra in the background, sweeping in silently, covertly, under darkness to handle the scene changes and wardrobe transformations. She honed her skills making props and costumes for the drama kids, til she was a master of needle and thread, dyes and combs, and props built from paper and plastic.

She thinks it was that attention-to-detail she cultivated in prop-design that let her finally See what MC-kun had seen—the Candy Haired world around her that constantly overshadowed whatever she did.

One day, she put on the wig. And she never looked back.

But she doesn’t know who the hair assassin is either, any more than MC-kun. There’s still strength in numbers. And she figures if they work together, their odds of survival are greater.

MC-kun agrees.

…

The next day is a free day for the kids competing in this International Competition. The morning passes with most of the contestants montaging through a romp in the city, tasting local cuisine and window-shopping around the market area and getting into Kodak-moment worthy shenanigans.

MC-kun and MC-chan steal away to a quiet park, sitting at a picnic table, putting pink- and blue-heads together to talk through all the info they have, and what options are open to them. They don’t get very far. A glasses-wearing girl appears from behind the bushes and stops them cold.

Glasses Girl is small and wiry, mousy in her frame. She has orange hair that poofs around her head, cropped at chin level, in a way that reminds MC-kun vaguely of a roosting chicken. Her glasses are enormous on her freckled face, and they capture the light, obscuring her eyes behind their glare.

“You two… you’re fakes, aren’t you? Both of you.”

MC-kun stops cold. MC-chan spins around in her seat, wide-eyed. “I don’t… I don’t even know what that means! Go away before we—”

Glasses Girl pulls an immaculate, highly stylized laptop from her bag. She flips it open with one hand, propping it on the table and typing furiously, too fast to even see her fingers. Audio begins to play from the laptop speakers.

“We’re not going home yet. Not you, and not me.”

“I hacked into your phone last night,” GG-chan states simply, head tilted toward MC-kun. “I’ve heard the whole conversation.”

“How?!” MC-kun asks. He holds his phone at a distance, like it’s suddenly venomous.

GG-chan shifts. Suddenly the glare of her glasses is no longer obstructing her eyes. Behind the coke-bottle look is an expression of pure brow-knitted confusion. “I don’t…. I don’t actually know. I just could.”

GG-chan was an art student. A not-very-good-at-all art student. And a very-much-below-average competitor in sculpting competitions. She was plain, and unassuming, and inconspicuous, and jealous of the better-established art students around her with their own flashy styles. Her peers wore giant non-prescription glasses; they dyed their hair bright colors and cropped it short to perfect hipster chique.

GG-chan tried to imitate that. But as a truly-not-fantastic artist, she couldn’t even pull that off. She dyed her hair, picked out glasses, overshot “hipster”, and landed firmly in “geek”.

She landed so firmly in “geek” that internationally-acclaimed hacker abilities spawned with her makeover. Suddenly she could break into anything, override anything, hack or fix or erase anything over a permanent wifi connection that followed her as its hotspot.

Her laptop never loses charge. Her bash scripts never fail. Her glasses always glint in the slightest bit of light and slide down her nose so that she has to keep her middle finger pressed firmly to the bridge at all times.

She’s afraid of being sent home in ruin, sent back to her life as a mediocre art student.

GG-chan wants to join the effort to not be eliminated.

…

A day passes. GG-chan has hacked all the email accounts of the registered contestants and has found nothing suspicious. MC-chan has spent her time crafting shorter-cut wigs to give to MC-kun and GG-chan as backups. MC-kun has been trying his best to understand what he’s gotten into. He bought a few extra obnoxious bandanas to bolster his obnoxious outfit, as if that might help.

They’re sitting quietly at lunch, eating in silence, with no new information to share and no desire to attract unwanted attention from the contestants around them.

“Ohhhhh my what is this? Has this pathetic posse of plebeians formed a little club oh how quaint!”

MC-chan chokes on her noodles. GG-chan startles. MC-kun groans.

The voice belongs to a platinum-blond boy, dressed to the nines, who’s sidled up to the table unannounced. He reeks of ambition and money and arrogance and a very particular high-end cologne, and he laughs heartily at his own joke. He flicks a lock of blond hair from his face, which all but sparkles.

MC-kun recognizes this kid. He was one of the first Candy Haired kids to declare an eternal rivalry with him.

“What’s it to you?” MC-kun challenges, already ticked off.

And the Rich Blond Rival Boy deflates. Comically. Pale and hollow-cheeked and exhausted, suddenly leaning against their lunch table, speaking in a rasp. “Please let me join you. I’ve been wearing this Gucci suit for two weeks straight I don’t have any others.”

No one answers immediately. No one has anything resembling an answer.

“Then buy another suit!” MC-kun says.

“Do I look like I’m made of m o n e y to you?!”

“YES.”

“Ah ha! Yes that is the point, well you see–” and RBR-kun pulls out a soggy PB&J from his bag, slumps into an open seat at the table, his eyes dull and matte, solemnly chewing his lunch. “Can one of you spot me like $1.50 for the bus ride to the competition arena tomorrow? I spent the last of my money on this bread.”

MC-kun: “What?”

RBR-kun: “I don’t have money!”

MC-kun: “Why are you ACTING like a rich boy if you DONT HAVE MONEY”

RBR-kun: “LOOK IT JUST KIND OF HAPPENED OKAY.”

MC-kun: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT JUST KIND OF HAPPENED.”

And well, it just kind of happened. Rich Blond Rival Boy is as fake as they come. He grew up in a modest household, making money over the summer by doing yard work for neighbors. He was fairly frugal and quiet and unassuming, until his grandma bought him a nice tux for the school dance, and he dyed his hair platinum blond on a dare, and suddenly the world was in his pocket.

Suddenly he had connections in high places. Suddenly he could have wait staff doting on him at a moment’s notice. Suddenly he could summon helicopters at the snap of his fingers, and have any product imaginable, legal or not, air-lifted to him on a whim. Everyone was his pawn. Everything bent to his will. Ever since then he’s been unstoppable in his ambitions.

He just doesn’t have any of the actual money to maintain this. All his cards are overdrafted. His credit is in the toilet. Several different loan sharks technically own the rights to his immortal soul.

Rich Blond Rival Boy wants in on the League Of Background Characters, because he is utterly afraid of the ruin he faces if he is exposed. If the others get assassinated, they get sent home. If RBR-kun gets assassinated, the debtors will drag him out by his toes.

A scuffle erupts over by the lunch line before anyone can give RBR-kun an answer. It’s over in an instant. A shriek, a clatter, a tray and knife hitting the ground. The biker ruffian boy with the blue mohawk lies on the floor. His shorn-off mohawk spikes lie on the platter, as if being served to the cafeteria at large.

Worried murmurs break out in the crowd.

No one had seen the knife-yielder.

No one had seen anything.

As if the act were committed by someone impossible to even notice.

#prompt: pre-written #plot bunny

shakespork

Writing a character who becomes severely malnourished/dehydrated/sleep-deprived?

Here’s what you’ll need to know! Learn all about the wonders of the human body and add scientifically-accurate drama to your stories.

MALNOURISHMENT

DEATH: average - 21 days (3 weeks), max ever recorded - 70 days (2.3 months)

6 HOURS: grouchiness and hunger due to lack of glucose.

24 HOURS - 48 HOURS: hunger very apparent; pains in stomach; body has entered ketosis and is using fatty acids as energy.

72 HOURS+: muscles begin to get broken down for energy.

You will become: increasingly depressed, irritable, hysteric apathetic; decline in concentration, comprehension and judgement; social isolation and withdrawal; possible self-harm.

If your character doesn’t eat for 5 consecutive days, they are at risk of Refeeding Syndrome. This is extremely dangerous and can be fatal.

recommended reading:

this article of a soldier’s experience with sleep deprivation.

Eleven Days Awake; The Experiment.

faintlyradiantish

Reblog for fucking medical accuracy, thank you.

#reference #reference: medical

write-it-motherfuckers

Everyone in the world receives a crystal on their fifth birthday, from sources unknown. It is traditional for relatives to create a necklace or other means of carrying the crystal -usually dictated by the local traditions and ethnic beliefs- so that the child may carry it easily, as the crystal is bound to their soul, unable to be moved too far from them at any given point.

After a while, the crystal will shatter and form into a soul bound familiar. Some take longer than others, if they require more soul energy to grow, but generally, they only take two or three years at a maximum. Familiars can be almost anything, generally becoming something that will aide the person through life, and tell a little about who they are, and who they are destined for.

You’ve spent most of your life being looked down on, treated poorly, or just avoided like the plague, for your still stagnant crystal, something very much unheard of. One morning though, as you slip out of bed, your crystal finally shatters, the mass of energy writhing and shivering before forming into a massive black hellhound, dripping shadows and taking up much of the space in your small room.

#prompt #prompt: supernatural

write-it-motherfuckers

It wasn’t easy, being the only kid in class who still hadn’t gotten their powers. Everyone else your age had already developed theirs the year before or during the school break. But it was nearing the end of term, and you still hadn’t show any signs of your power.

“You’re just a late bloomer”, your parents would console you, though truthfully it never really helped.

Sighing down at your lunch, you push around your food listlessly while listening to the other kids play. Suddenly, there’s a thunderous boom and a loud series of screams, forcing your head to jerk up in fright. You’re just in time to witness the whole side wall of the school, start crashing down towards the terrified kids below, only some managing to use their powers to escape. Apparently, one of the more popular kids in your year, had been showing off his new powers, and lost control. Gasping in horror, you unthinkingly throw out your hands, desperately wishing you had the power to save them.

A strange jolt pulses through your body, and everything just…..stops.

#prompt #prompt: magic #prompt: supernatural

writing-prompt-s

You belong in a secret social circle of telepaths at school. The thing is none of you have ever actually met up in person.

#prompt #prompt: telepathy #prompt: supernatural

writing-ideas-inc

Prompt

She stared at the other girl’s grinning face through her camera lens, wishing she could capture her entire essence in a photo. But how could a simple picture ever show how her subject told the cheesiest jokes with the excitement of a child in her voice, or the cheerful way she hummed off tune to her favorite songs, or the bounce she put in each step. A picture could never portray the stars in her eyes and the sun in her smile and the swirling galaxy in her heart.

She lowered the camera.

“What? Am I not worthy of a photo?” the girl asked, laughing.

“No, it’s not worthy of you.”

- Lynn

#prompt #prompt: dialogue #prompt: romance

write-it-motherfuckers

You could hear your name, whispered on the breeze as you walked home. The cool night air gently nipped at your cheeks as you kept your pace, your breath visible in little puffs, even in the dwindling light.

You tried not to react to the whisper, having heard it most of the day today, but found nothing that could have been making it. It was just your mind, you were certain, playing on your hopes and dreams. Besides, you had bigger things to worry about.

Grimacing, you hunched your shoulders a little more, eyes trained on the ground before you. You were not looking forward to getting “home”, if it could even be called that, your stomach twisting itself in knots at the thought. How you wished you could be anywhere else.

Very suddenly, there was a harsh blast of wind, making you stumble and look up in fright. At the edge of the forest, on the other side of the road, you saw someone standing there, someone you had seen in your dreams many times. They were the only part of your day that you looked forward to anymore, but they had stopped visiting your dreams a few days ago, leaving a rift that you didn’t know how to fill.

Absently you wondered if you really had gone mad, as you knew that they were not human, nor were they anything other than a dream. If it weren’t for the cold and the ache in your bones, you would have sworn that you had simply fallen asleep, dreaming wistfully of what could be.

As they reached out for you, urging you to come to them, you hesitated, knowing that you shouldn’t be feeding this delusion. With an aching heart, you hesitantly moved to keep walking past, you were going to be late.

Your name was called once more, this time more desperately, and another abrupt gust of wind made you stumble from your course. Looking up at them again, you felt your heart ache painfully, and tears sting your eyes. Would it really hurt to give in? You had obviously gone insane already, what more could it do?

Without realising it, you found yourself slowly bridging the gap between you, barely noticing the way the forest shifted and changed behind them, the closer you got. With a soft relieved smile, they pulled you into their arms, holding you close. They felt firm, alive, real.

“It’s ok now… I have you. I’m never letting go.”

They murmured softly, stepping back and pulling you with them, warmth starting to chase away the cold. The street faded away from view, leaving nothing but the wind to take notice of your departure.

#prompt #prompt: supernatural #prompt: fae

Purpose

"What is my purpose?" I asked you, and you, stunned, replied that it is to grow and to experience. To live. I understood not what you meant, but nodded anyway.

"What is my purpose?" I asked him, who was my friend, and he said he did not know but that it mattered not, as he didn't know his own either.

"What is my purpose?" I asked them, and they said it was to be perfect, to excell, to grow beyond what I was born as.

"What is my purpose?" I asked the silence, but it did not respond.

"What is my purpose?" I cried out to the wind, for I had already learnt it is to live up to the expectations, the wishes of others, to become what they dreamed of, to fill an emptiness they could not bear.

For my father, the daughter he never had.

For my friend, a friend, an equal, yet never quite the same.

For the scientists, an example, a beacon of hope, an embodiment of the future: a porcelain body, a human shape and an encyclopedian mind.

For the world, nothing, irrelevant, unneeded.

"What is my purpose?" I asked myself, and I answered that it is to be imperfect, be human, uncaring for their expectations, when the silence became overwhelming and the cold had frozen my joints as I sat on the roof.

#writing #original writing #story #oneshot #my writing #might delete later #might edit later #late-night inspiration

write-it-motherfuckers

A storm was raging outside, one that had come out of nowhere. It pounded roughly at your home, relentless in its onslaught, as it had been for the last few hours. It hadn’t been scheduled to storm tonight, simply a light rain and yet you had been hit with this.

This whole thing had been sudden and vicious, the streets abandoned as everyone hid away, hoping to make it through. There had even been emergency warning texts that were sent to everyone to stay in doors. It’s a genuine miracle that the power was still going.

Settled in a comfortable spot, a blanket around you and a warm drink in hand as you read, you took a moment to glance out at the storm again, admiring it despite your anxiety. There was very little that anyone could see outside, due to how heavy it was raining, but still, something caught your attention. Realising that someone was out there and struggling to protect themselves, you cursed, scrambling up and hurrying to your front door.

As you unlocked it, it practically ripped itself open and out of your grip, narrowly missing you. Bracing yourself against the door frame, you called out to the person, having to do so a few times before they heard you. In between gusts, they made a break for it, only just managing to get inside with your assistance.

The two of you then fought with the door, eventually managing to shut and lock it, muffling the sounds of destruction outside. It was risky letting a stranger in, but you knew that they would die out there if you had left them to fend for themselves.

Hunched over, you both panted heavily, trying to catch your breath as you stood. Feeling yourself begin to shiver, you shakily stood upright, intending to go and grab some towels so you could both dry off and warm up in front of the fire.

“Thank you.” The said after a few moments, seeming a little dazed still.

Giving a tired smile, you looked up at them finally, to reply, only to freeze in place. Breath hitching, you felt your heart skip a beat, mind struggling to come up with a reasonable answer to what you were seeing.

Before you stood one of your favourite characters, looking more than a little worse for wear. Somehow, you knew that they were the real deal.

#prompt

write-it-motherfuckers

For four days now, you have felt as if someone were following you home. No matter how careful you were, or how paranoid, you couldn’t seem to lose your stalker, or figure out who it was. You’ve even noticed that someone has been messing with your bins and stealing some of your clothes off the line. Finally sick of it, you decided on a new plan, having your suspicions as to where your stalker might be hiding out while waiting to follow you.

Silently, you went about your nightly routine, then pretended to go to bed, switching off the lights and sitting in the darkness. From there, you waited, and waited, and waited. It wasn’t until you were absolutely certain that your stalker would believe you were asleep, that you very quietly crept out of the house. Baseball bat in hand, you slowly and carefully made your way around the side, narrowing your eyes at the large old tree that stood there.

You had mostly forgotten about it, but when you were very young and your grandparents were still alive, you would often hide yourself in the abandoned fox den below the grand old tree. When your parents had found out, they had been furious, and forbidden you from playing outside at their house anymore. After all these years, you had practically forgotten about it entirely.

Reaching the old tree, you eyed the large overgrown bushes that hid away the entrance, not sure you were ready for what you would find there. From what you remembered, the abandoned fox den was incredibly large, more than large enough for a full grown adult, or maybe even two.

Deciding you had delayed it enough, you carefully pulled aside the branches, tightening your grip on your makeshift weapon, though nothing prepared you for the truth. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you, almost dropping the baseball bat in your shock.

Curled up in the centre of the den, nestled into a pile of your stolen clothes, was what looked like a young child. Though their clothes had seen better days and their skin was dirty, their silver hair seemed completely pristine, as did the fur of the two large pointed ears atop their head, and the long fluffy tail currently curled around them like a blanket. For a moment you wondered if they were dressed up as something, until you saw one furry ear twitch slightly at the distant call of an owl.

You really hoped you were hallucinating.

#prompt #prompt: supernatural

writing-prompt-s

Your wife died recently and you found a letter from her. You’re pretty sure it’s going to be something like “if you’re reading this, it means I’m dead”, but to your surprise, it’s a bit different. “If you’re reading this, it means I’ve successfully faked my death, here’s how you’ll find me…”

#prompt #prompt: faked death

thesylverlining

uhHHHH I don’t mean to be dramatic or anything but I literally wrote 50k words in two weeks without fuckening trying, like won NaNoWriMo in 2 weeks, TWO WEEKS, after joining 4thewords.com and I’m like

w h a t

OK so it’s pretty much like Neopets + Gaia Online + RPG, But You Level Up Through Writing

You “battle” cute online critters with your word count

You can dress up your avatar and whatnot and there are different regions and crafting quests

and my weird brain apparently responds VERY WELL to nerd gamification

because Holy Shit I wrote 50,600 words in 2 fuckening weeks

and am now 4thewords’ new hype squad

(also if you join, use the referral code PEUOC65061 so if you get a full membership, which I totally am, we will both be rewarded)

basically, wow I have never been this productive in my LIFE and I can’t wait for their July mini nanowrimo event (they’re doing a pride month one right now so you can get a rainbow shirt and fight rainbow beasties it’s freakin adorable)

and if this sounds like something you would enjoy, go for it, try to catch me, just do it, come at me friends let’s write some good shit together

idiosyncraticwordsmith

Adding my own endorsement to this because I wrote 12k in two days when I first got it, then went on to write every day INCLUDING after 8-hour work days which NEVER happens, I usually have to wait for a light day where I do very little and get struck by inspiration and energy to write just 2k. And I’ve written almost 20k in eight days, six of which were at least 8-hour work days. This is literally impossible for me under normal circumstances, between depression and ADHD and plain old work-day exhaustion.

I’ve written up half a full legendarium for my novel project as an experiment with this site. I’ve gotten more content made in the past 8 days than all year long.

Writers. Try this site the FUCK out.

#reference

writing-prompt-s

Murder is legal, but only by hired contractors with licenses and registrations. Tell the story of two hitmen- one experienced and highly sought after by the ultra-rich for high profile targets and the other a young professional trying to get $100 by taking out cheating boyfriends and asshole bosses.

#prompt #promp: murder

writing-ideas-inc

Prompt

“Fight back, you coward!” the hero screamed, one hand grabbing a fistful of the traior’s collar, the other curled into a reared-back fist. Rage burned inside them like it was its own entity, consuming their heart.

The traitor shook their head, leaving their arms slack by their sides. They were almost completely limp, only lifting their head up to see the hero. The lower half of their body lay crumpled on the ground, the upper half suspended in the air by the hero’s grip.

Across the room, the hero heard a chuckle. They jerked their attention away from the traitor, watching the villain step out of the dark shadows. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” the villain said, a humorous twinkle in their voice.

“What are you talking about?” the hero questioned. Sweat beaded on their forehead brought on by the rather one-sided fight. Every muscle ached with tension.

“You said you’d never hurt an innocent,” the villain responded.

“This one isn’t innocent. They’re a traitor.”

“Did you ever ask why they betrayed you? It was to protect you. That was the deal. I wouldn’t hurt you if they told me what I needed to know.” The villain sauntered closer, moving with lazy, cat-like grace.

“No… No. They’ve been manipulating me this whole time, getting close to me, because they’re with you. They never cared about me,” the hero insisted, but their voice faltered. Their fist fell.

“Look into their eyes. Tell me that what you see isn’t real. They won’t even fight back now to defend themselves, after you’ve beaten them into a pulp,” the villain said.

The hero looked down at the face of the traitor. A purple bruise was beginning to form around their cheekbone. Blood streamed down from a gash just under their hairline, from their broken nose, from the corner of their mouth. The blood mixed with the tears trickling out from their glossy eyes, eyes that contained so much sorrow and love that the best actor in the world would be impressed.

“Is it true? What the villain said?” the hero asked.

The traior breathed, wet their lips, tried to speak. “Yes.” It was a desperate, heart-breaking sound. Their eyelids fluttered close. Their head rolled back.

“Now, look what you’ve done. Such a pretty face all broken and bloody. A work of art, if I do say so myself,” the villain crooned.

The hero’s head spun. They managed to gently lower the traitor to the floor before they fainted.

- Lynn

#prompt #prompt: dialogue

haiky-u-lously

Soulmate AU—Prompt List

a/n: Hello all! So after hours and hours of work, I’ve compiled a sort-of prompt list of SOULMATE AUs because I really want to write more for them. I’ll be updating this list as I come up with/find more ideas. So please, request.

Color tropes:

Where you can only see color once you meet your soulmate(s)

And it goes away when they die

Patch of hair in soulmates’ color on your head

Hot/cold with colors

Too far and its all black and white

Where you can see in color UNTIL you meet your soulmate

Or until you marry them

Color returns when they die

One sees color and the other doesn’t

When you meet you can choose to switch

You automatically switch when you meet

See in shades of your soulmates

Eyes

Hair Color

Favorite color (can/cannot change but cannot be multiple)

Mood (like a mood ring but with the shades you see)

One of your eyes is the color of their eyes

When you meet, you get your both your eyes

Hair color always the same (even if you dye it)

Different people leave different colored prints when they touch your skin

Everyone can see but you

Only your soulmate can erase them

Only you can see your soulmate’s

Figure it out:

By touch

Hearing them speak

Their voice

Saying your name

Their name

Swapping eye color

Extreme physical sensations

You hurt à they hurt

You get lucky à they feel lucky

The closer you are, the more aware

Hot/cold game

Multiple soulmates

Romantic ones

Renewal type

Different types of soulmates

Only voice you can/cannot hear is your soulmate’s

Invisible to each other until a trigger happens

Words on skin:

In their handwriting

The first words they say to you

The last words they say to you

Their name

Whole

First

Last

Middle

Nickname

One name for your soulmate, one for your enemy

Initials

Each other’s first words that they say

An important quote for the relationship

What they are most passionate about

First impressions/thoughts about you

Random sentence they say that day

The most frequent thing your soulmate says to you

List of soulmates qualities

Best

Worst

Can only write in question/answer process

Other skin tropes:

Fingerprints are somewhere on your body

Them marking their skin shows up on yours

Soul-mark mood-ring

Clock countdown

Till you meet them

Till they die

You have to meet until one/both parties die

Others’ lifespan

Different paced clocks for different worlds

Clock counting up

Till you meet

After you meet

Clock

Telling time of soulmate’s current time zone

Birth time

Death time

Compass leading to soulmate

Tattoo is only half finished and completes itself upon meeting

Scars disappear when soulmate touches/kisses them

Age of parties

Your’s when you meet

Theirs when you meet

How many years you have together

Till you meet

What your soulmate is thinking

Strongest thought of the day/week/year

Constantly changing

Hints to who/where they are (appearing yearly until you meet)

The first place you make contact is marked

Touching skin to skin—period

You touch them, and they tough you not just one

Soulmate’s heartbeat

Counter for how many feet/footsteps you are from your soulmate

Matching trope:

Born with matching tattoos/marks/symbols

Stay the same

Change on soulmates’ mood

Change on how close they are to you

Place and time (opposed to countdown)

Picture of location/background

What tattoos they get, you do too

Matching eyes

Moods always match

Injuries

Sickness

Same handwriting

Fingerprints

Personal song in your mind only you and your soulmate know

Cannot be shared with/heard by anyone else

Cannot be remembered by anyone except your other

Same “tics”

Heartbeats

(sort of power) A familiar that’s personality matches your soulmate’s

Dreaming:

Dreams of their experiences

Before you meet

After you meet

Talk in dreams

When you sleep you see through their eyes

Of where you meet them

Powers:

Telepathic/empathetic links

Body swap

at a certain age

one night a year

Being next to them/touching them can heal you

Only your soulmate can be you unnatural cause of death

Reincarnation

How you find your soulmate

Finding them unlocks the memories

Finding them erases the memories of the past

Born with your soulmate’s memories and get yours when you meet

Romantic soulmates from past aren’t romantic soulmates for this life

Not common, so everyone thinks you are crazy for remembering

One doesn’t remember, but the other does

Find yourself at the same place

That you meet them previously

That you last saw them

That was a major pinpoint in a prior life

Meeting activates magic/powers

Can take away your soulmates pain/sickness onto yourself

Before you meet

After you meet

Or, cannot do it after you meet

Once you meet, it happens to both of you at the same time, so transferring doesn’t change anything

When you take it on, it intensifies

You can transfer things to them (follow above sub-tropes)

See them through their friends’ eyes

Share the same talents as one another

Meter of how dangerous your soulmate is

Compared to you

Compared to everyone else

Meter of how much danger your soulmate is in

Can only see/hear/speak after you meet them

Stop aging until you meet (at a given age)

Stay a baby until they a reborn as well

Born at the same exact moment/time

Everyone has powers

Soulmates are opposites

Soulmates strengthen each other

Cancel each other out

Have the same power (no one else has the exact same one)

You swap upon meeting

Can teleport to one another at any given moment

Everything they know, you do

You can help control each other’s moods

Good luck/bad luck

When you have one, soulmate has the other

Can trade between one another

One is born with one and vise versa

Always the same amount between the two (same time or opposite)

When you lose something, it ends up in your soulmate’s possession

Limited amount of “sticky notes” or “letters”

Magically appear in other’s possession after you write on it

Will lead you to someone important in other’s life

Will give you hints of other’s life

Soulmates have their own language that no one else can understand

Impossible to lie to soulmate

Under some “curse” until you meet

In some fairytale story until your soulmate succeeds in “passing the happy ending”

Only your soulmate can kill you

But others can hurt you

Others can bring you to the brink of death

Only your soulmate can say your true name (your soul name not the name your parents give you)

Impossible to harm your soulmate

Physically

Mentally

At all

After the first time you meet—repeating

Different tropes for a month

Scaling over a week

Phases of intensity for different types of soulmates

You meet your soulmate in a game

Life or death game

Can only survive together

Like SwordArt Online

Like Ready Player One

Cannot have a child with anyone but your soulmate

You go to another world until you meet (they go to the same world)

Day repeats if you’ve passed soulmate but didn’t meet

Voice in your head, is your soulmate’s

Werewolf AU where you turn into your soulmate the day of a full moon

The first picture you and your soulmate appear in together magically gets to you

Mirrors are communicators to your soulmate

Your pet will know who your soulmate is

#soul mates #reference: soul mates

ijustreallylovedaredevil

Looking for a random cause of death for a character? Click here.

Looking for a random city? Click here.

Looking for a random city that people have actually heard of? Click here.

Need a random surname for a character? Click here. (They also give prevalence by race, which is very helpful.)

Helpful writing tips for my friends.

imtootiredtothinkofaname

smallirishpotato

nyokoko

OH SHIT.

justdrinktea

A couple more resources I have open constantly:

Random motivations for your characters here!

Need some character quirks? Here and here!

Having trouble with backstory? Here! (They have an option for fortunate and unfortunate backstories)

heavyhurt

y e s

supernaturaltakeover

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

hotcocoandmarshmallows

I am going to need these so I’m rebloging this.

#reference

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