she/her, adult, in real life i'm a teacher but on tumblr i'm just a mess, writeblr sideblog for @organabanana, my name isn't meadow i just like musicals and emilia clarke
I haven't really done anything with this poor story in nearly a year, but I've finally poked it a little, re-worked it a little, and fallen in love with it again, so I figured I'd give it a bit of a fresh coat of paint on my blog as well!
Genre: contemporary wlw romance, inspired by a fairytale (snow white).
Featuring: love (obviously), found family, betrayal (oh, no), age difference, enemies to lovers, annoyances to friends to lovers, on-stage and off-stage dramatics, women finding their place in the world, idiots (affectionate), one big dog, and seven small kittens.
POV: multiple, third person, past tense.
Status: about 1/3 of the way into the first draft.
Synopsis:
Rhiannon Braeburn used to be the undisputed queen of both stage and screen until she hit that awkward age where actresses are too old (don't say that word where she can hear you) to play the main character, and too young to play the main character's mother. She was considering simply staying away from the limelight until she was well into her golden years and could make a distinguished comeback, until she received a call offering her a role in an upcoming Broadway play.
Charlie Prince, Hollywood's newest sweetheart, is playing one of the show's lead roles and hoping to make a name for herself as a serious actress and not just that girl in the biggest superhero franchise in the world. And that suits Rhiannon just fine: she's worked with Charlie before, and she's been hit on by Charlie before. Rhiannon may not like women (please, of course she doesn't) but she's not above a bit of showmance if it helps put her back in the spotlight.
Except.
There's this... girl. Wide-eyed, bushy-tailed ingenue Ivy Whitely, fresh off the train from Ohio (Ohio, of all places), waltzing into Rhiannon's life to ask for an autograph and somehow stealing everyone's attention away from her.
Charlie may have fallen in love (or lust, knowing her) at first sight, and even Rhiannon's best friend-slash-agent Miranda may be smitten with Ohio's blandest ear of corn, but Rhiannon can see right through her act: Ivy Whitely is hiding something, and Rhiannon is sending her private investigator (don't act surprised, every woman needs one of those) Hana Forrest hunting for the truth. And for Ivy's head.
Tag list: [ I'm using the one I had from before so please let me know if you're no longer interested and I'll remove you! ]
As I am preparing for Camp NaNo*, I have been working on my story file. It occurred to me this might not be common or popular practice. “Story File” is a name I gave it and maybe some of y’all have a different name with the same contents.
*There’s still time to apply to join my Camp NaNo cabin!
My Story File contains everything about my story that doesn’t go in the outline.
It’s broken up into major categories and specific templates. So without further ado, here is how I structure my Story File.
Intro
Title
Logline
Synopsis
Genre
Estimated Total Length (word count)
Draft Length Goal (word count)
Character Bank
Main characters and brief, one-sentence descriptions with ages
Themes and Character Development
Central Question
The Yes/No question that is being asked through the whole story
Should have objective qualities, rather than subjective
i.e. “Will they fall in love?” (subjective) vs. “Will they leave their partners and become a couple?” (objective)
Thematic Questions
These are the internal conflict questions that reside in your character(s) and your story
ex. “Can there really be a successful government?”
ex. “Does grief excuse bad actions?”
Themes at a Glance
Words or phrases that relate to the themes of the story
ex. person vs. nature
ex. isolation
ex. grief
ex. first love
Motivation / Stasis State / Final State
for each main character, you should write a sentence or two pertaining to these three things
Motivation: What is the drive behind this character and their past, present, and future actions? What part of their background makes them the way that they are? What are they looking for? What do they want out of this/a situation?
Stasis State: What are they like before the inciting incident? What problems and questions do they have?
Final State: What has changed about them and their outlook? What questions have they resolved? What has happened to their internal conflict?
Relationships
I usually make a little web of the MCs and their relationship to one another. One for the stasis and one for final.
Stasis: How do these characters see each other? How do they act toward the other? (All before the inciting incident)
Final: How do these characters see each other now? How has their idea of one another shifted?
Even if a character dies before the end, include the most recent relationship status in the Final web.
ex. this is how I organize it, using the Draw feature of Google Docs
Character Bank
This is just a very preliminary character bank. If you prefer a more in-depth one, check out my 6 Box Method.
Per (relevant/important) character:
Name
Nickname/preferred name
Age
Field/Occupation
Physical Description
Personality
Personal History
Education/Occupation History
Extra Notes:
Worldbuilding Bank
(Check out my worldbuilding posts on Categories Pt. 1 and 2 for better context)
Seasons and Climate
Languages
Other Cultural Pockets
Folklore and Legends
Fine Arts
Dress and Modesty
Classes
Jobs
Currency and Economics
Shopping
Agriculture and Livestock
Imports and Exports
Literature, Pop Culture, and Entertainment
Food and Water
Holidays and Festivals
Family and Parenting
Relationships
Housing
Religion and Beliefs
Government
Health and Medicine
Technology and Communication
Death
Transportation
Plants, Animals, and Human-environment Interaction
Education
Beauty Standards
Gender and Sexuality
—————————
I hope this helps y’all and supplements what you’re probably already doing. I know it’s helped me tons to have everything in a central place.
Yes - Friday. But it isn’t just any Friday! It’s Flash Fiction Friday! And A Special One!
✨ New to FFF? Let us fill you in!
FlashFictionFriday is a fun writer-event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!
We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.
Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.
Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.
Post on your Tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!
Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12pm CET).
And then next Friday we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before the next prompt drops.
Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots – or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!
If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask! <3
You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!
We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.
If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/gA6sJMB
✨ All your amazing works from last week have been compiled HERE!
Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!
✨ And now, the new prom-
Ah!
Stop!
It’s not yet time for a new prompt! But something else that is new! Please give a warm welcome to our new addition to the Flash Fiction Friday Collective: @mortallynuttyqueen!!!
Phew! What exciting news!
Ah? Still not all news?
Ha! You probably thought we’d just forget that it’s our 100th prompt today! Well, we didn’t! And to celebrate all those joyous news today, we thought we’d do a little special something, for this very Special Flash Fiction Friday! Here they are, the five prompts, from all five of us <3
[ # FFF100 A New Dawn ]
[ # FFF100 The Sweetest Blood ]
[ # FFF100 Dying Fire ]
[ # FFF100 Hidden Path ]
[ # FFF100 Stay With Me ]
There it is! Choose freely! Pick two! Pick three! Put them all in a box, shake really well and then look at what comes out of it! You know the deal, take them literally, metaphorically, any way you want! Go and write!
Description: The aftermath of a violent zombie attack leaves Jackie shaken and Mara's there to pick up the pieces.
WC: 1.5k~
Warnings: (NOTE: this is a New Adult wip) blood, descriptions of gore and death, hurt/comfort, hints at PTSD
[WIP Intro]
My hand’s in his chest.
Jackie’s ragged breathing mixed with the pounding of her heart in her ears. She became aware of every sensation encompassing her trembling hands. Sharp bone and squirming innards. Blood so old and rancid it left her fist coated in its stomach churning viscosity. The smell of it burned her nose.
My hand’s in his fucking chest.
A voice, barely audible over the panicked thoughts echoing in her skull, called to her. Jackie’s eyes remained transfixed on the collapsed chest beneath her. She crouched over the man who had attacked her - if one could call it a man at all. His yellowed eyes stared at the stars above them, the light far from gone. His neck bent at an unnatural angle and the hunting knife she managed to wrestle off of him was now buried between his ribs. She gripped its leather handle for dear life, lost in the gore of his wound.
“Jackie.” Mara’s voice came to her like a freight train. A touch harsh and loud enough to pull her attention away from one of the cracked bones that dug into the back of her hand. Jackie’s head whipped around, meeting the soft, weary eyes of the woman she saved. “Jackie. Let go of the knife.” Her voice was soft. Softer than she’d ever heard from here in their two long days together. No snarky quips or barking orders. She beckoned to her like a cool oasis in a desert.
Jackie half expected the more experienced woman to be pissed at her for letting the killing get to her. Even after all they’d been through. But this… this was going to stick with her. Even with her own mind screaming at her to let go of the weapon and remove herself from the blood that began to soak into the knees of her jeans, she couldn’t release her grip on the damned thing.
“I… I can’t. Mara, I can’t-” She didn’t recognize her own voice. Shrill and panicked, she barely managed to swallow the sob growing in the back of her throat. “It’s stuck - I’m stuck!”
A quiet hush passed Mara’s lips. Jackie turned her face away so she wouldn’t see the hot tears that defied her and slipped down her cheeks. A warm, lithe body pressed against her back. Arms wrapped around her, grime coated hands taking her wrists. The lean muscle of her arms encased her protectively.
“Then let me do it. C’mon, let me free you.”
Jackie trembled. The sob won. Through blurry tears she watched as Mara’s fingers wrenched her own off the hilt of the blade. The muscle in her wrist ached terribly like the time in college when she gave herself carpal tunnel from writing two essays in a row. Despite the pain, they shook uncontrollably.
The chest against her back rumbled; Mara uttered a low groan as she hoisted Jackie off the dead man’s limp form. They stumbled backwards until they reached the mouth of the cave they had been hiding in for the past few hours to catch their breath.
Another sob wracked her chest, echoing off the jagged stone walls and high ceiling. Somewhere, in the distant woods, a high pitched yowling signalled danger. More of the fuckers lurked somewhere in the darkness. Mara squeezed her against her, mouth brushing against her ear. “Not here.” Her warm breath warned in a whisper. “The falls. Wait until the falls.”
Jackie’s breath fluttered in short bursts. Everything within her wanted to break down crying where they stood. Throw a fit that could shake the heavens and ultimately end the nightmare they were trapped in. But she choked back her whimpers and stumbled when Mara’s body left hers. A hand remained under her elbow, guiding her.
“This way. Carefully.”
Limbs carried her on their own. Her mind was too busy preoccupied with the violent attack playing over and over again like a rancid movie. Except it was her hands. Her feet. Her voice that cried out when she dealt the final blow.
Jackie’s ankle twisted oddly for a second as she lost her balance along the rocky shore of Sky Pond. Mara kept her upright, by some miracle, picking up their pace towards the Timberline Falls straight ahead. The sound of rushing water allowed her to cry again, as long as she kept the sobbing at bay. More tears slipped down her cheeks, cooling her hot flesh and releasing some of the pent up terror still lingering within her.
Timberline Fall’s grew louder the closer they approached it. Both of them surveyed their surroundings, making sure no one - and no thing - was close enough to attack. Jackie pulled her hand from Mara’s, pushing past her to get to a broad, flat boulder beside the body of water. Icy sprinkles fell from overhead, misting her. Relief joined hand in hand with the pain inside of her.
Before she knew it, Jackie’s screams drowned in the roar of Timberline.
-
It was uncertain how much time passed. The moon still hung high overhead, providing pale light. The falls became a background rumble that Jackie tuned out not long after arriving. The occasional whimper rattled in her throat, but it seemed she had cried every tear she could in the time they remained by the edge of Sky Pond.
At some point, she had been coaxed back to the cave. The dead man was nowhere in sight - something of Mara’s doing. Smears of his blood still painted the stone, but without his rotting corpse, there wasn’t much to see.
Jackie’s face pressed against warm skin. She wheezed, trying to conjure up another sob to finally drain her of energy. But it never came. Mara smelled like the earth. Strong and natural, with a hint of campfire and sweat. Not that she minded. After their two days together, she almost found it more comforting than her mother’s perfume or her past girlfriend’s deodorant. It was all Mara.
It took a small deal of effort to peel her tacky, tear-streaked cheek off of the bare shoulder she rested against. There, lounging by their backpacks, Mara held her and worked tirelessly to get the last of the rotten blood out from the creases of Jackie’s knuckles. Very few words were shared between them since her breakdown at the falls, but when she laid her head against her chest she let the sound of her steady heartbeat ground her.
“I’m sorry.” Though Jackie didn’t exactly know what she was apologizing for. Those dark eyes fluttered, a brow raising as they looked down at her.
“What have I told you about apologizing too much, Jackie?” The tease was light. Mara’s voice frayed, somehow mustering a small smile. “I’m just cleaning you up. I know what the scent of death can do to a person. You’ve dealt with enough. Just let me do this for you.”
Jackie went quiet, watching as Mara’s hands turned hers over so her palms faced up. The handkerchief she used was tossed aside. With both of their hands clean, she interlaced their fingers. The memory of the dead man’s face tried to surface, but the forehead that nestled against hers flung it back into the void.
“What are you thinking about?” Mara’s inquiry lingered unanswered for a moment. What was she thinking about? Images of the violence from the past days flickered but never formed completely at the front of her mind. Her brain buzzed with the touch. The gentleness in the warrior’s actions.
“Him. Or at least, I was.” Jackie’s breathing went shallow again. They were so close right then. She could feel her warm breath against her face. “I was thinking about the noise he made… but you’re kind of making it hard to do that right now.”
“Am I?” Mara snorted, pulling her head back from hers for a moment. Humor lingered on her exhausted gaze. “Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings for some crazy bitch you met during a zombie apocalypse.”
Well that ruined the moment. Embarrassed, Jackie turned her face away and cast her gaze to the streaks of moonlight that lit up the front of the cave. A hand left one of hers. Warm fingers caressed the side of her jaw, pulling her gaze back to Mara. She looked serious then. Her brows lowered in concentration. They locked eyes for what seemed like hours.
Mara leaned in. Her lips were so close to hers. So fucking close. What a perfect distraction they were, even as they hovered ever so slightly next to hers. Jackie’s breath hitched in her throat and she watched her through her lashes. She gave a small nod, letting her know this was a welcomed advance.
She tasted of salt and sweet tobacco. Far better than the scent of blood or death. Jackie hummed against her lips, her hands trembling against. Only this time it was from the rush of electricity that coursed through her veins at the tender affection. Mara deepened the kiss, her hand still firmly against her jaw. A thumb swiped along her cheek bone, tickling her like a butterfly’s wings.
They only broke so she could catch her breath. After all her crying, Jackie still wasn’t sure how to breathe properly. The humor returned to Mara’s face and she murmured against her lips.
“Hope you like crazy, princess. You’re going to be stuck with me for a while”
-
ITWS Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @lordkingsmith @celestialbunnistories @aeslin-writes @writinginslowmotion @chayscribbles @theramwrites @tiredlittleoldme @sapphcon-ic @hazard-writes @lookingmuchimproved @themidnxghtwriter @draculinawrites @aetherwrites @svpphicwrites @maxgraybooks @writeherewaiting @sjjsalamanders @thelittlestspider @ashen-crest @writtendevastation @ravesthewriter @adie-dee @christine-thinks @cream-and-tea @reeseweston @languageisbae @mellowkittenwrites @yejidoesthings
Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt! I will probably write more of this but I wanted to write something for today so I could participate even if I’m about 10 minutes late!
Fandom is Supergirl and word count is around 1100 words.
Lena Luthor sees the world in black and white.
It’s not a metaphor, mind you. She literally sees the world in black and white. There are shades of gray, of course, but that’s it. That’s all.
And she knows, because she’s been told countless times, that it’s normal. It’s simply the way the world works. From infancy, she’s heard all about it in fairy tales and movies, in songs and in books and in conversations around her: you get your colors when you meet your soulmate.
And it’s not that Lena doesn’t believe it. It’d be illogical not to at this point. This isn’t an elaborate lie thought up by adults to keep children on their best behavior, like Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy. The whole wold can’t be in on a lie. So it must be the truth. It’s just that it doesn’t make any sense.
How can meeting someone alter the way you perceive the world? And she doesn’t mean in the sense that the sun shines brighter and the birds chirp louder because you’re in love, or whatever nonsense people are trying to sell in Valentine’s Day cards these days.
No.
She means, how can meeting someone fundamentally alter the way your brain processes the information from your optic nerves? It doesn’t make any sense.
So she’s been trying to cheat the system for years. Ever since she realized just how ridiculous this whole thing was when she had to console a heartbroken Andrea in their dorm room after their first kiss didn’t result in a chromatic explosion for either of them.
What’s a soulmate, anyway? What is a soul, even?
Lena may have never seen the color green, but she’s learned its wavelength is between 500 and 565 nanometers. She’s built glasses that can tell you exactly the colors you’re looking at, even if you can’t see them. She knows colors objectively exist even if she’s never seen one, so it’s not that she needs visual proof to believe in the existence of something.
Well, then. What’s a soul? What’s its wavelength? Where’s the chemical footprint it leaves on the brain? How can you have a soulmate if there’s no such thing as a soul?
How can your full perception of the world hinge upon meeting someone whose alleged connection to you is based upon something that may very well not even exist? How can something so important — the ability to fully see the world as it is — hinge on something as arbitrary as meeting your so-called soulmate?
(No, sixteen-year-old Andrea Rojas was not particularly comforted by this speech.)
So this has always been a sort of side project for Lena. Figuring out how to cheat this nonsensical system. Whatever happens when you meet your alleged soulmate, there has to be a way to boil it down to its bare essentials. We’re made up of organs made up of tissues made up of cells. It’s chemistry, all of it. And if it’s chemistry, she can figure it out.
But not today.
Today is a big day. It’s the day Luthor Corp becomes L-Corp, and that’s far more important than debunking this soulmate nonsense everyone keeps eating up. It’s her first day in National City, and she’s so excited — so nervous, deep down — that she’s walking to work instead of taking her usual car. She wants to feel the city around her. Feel how different it is from Metropolis and let herself have the true fresh start she very much needs.
She’s so focused on all that, in fact, that she may not be paying too much attention when she crosses a street. She hears the screeching of rubber on asphalt, a loud horn… and suddenly she’s safe and sound on the other side of the street.
“Wh—“ Lena’s heart races as she looks at the car speeding through the crossing where she was a split second ago, and tries to make sense of how she managed to apparently teleport to the safety of the sidewalk. “What—?”
“Are you all right?” A woman’s voice snaps Lena out of her daze. “You really should pay more attention!”
Lena looks up to see a bright wide smile and a set of blue eyes staring back at her, not an ounce of judgment in them even though—
Wait.
Blue eyes.
Lena blinks, eyes widening at the realization that the woman’s hair is golden blond as it shines under the sunlight. There’s the lightest pink on her cheeks, which Lena takes as the result of saving someone’s life, and she’s wearing—
Oh.
“Supergirl,” Lena breathes out, and she’s not sure whether she’s having more difficulty wrapping her mind around suddenly seeing color, suddenly meeting Supergirl, or both of those things happening at the same time.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Supergirl looks slightly concerned. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“No!” Lena shakes her head. This is all a bit too much. Humans don’t have souls. Aliens likely don’t, either. Can Supergirl see colors, too? “No, I’m fine. I’m— thank you, Supergirl. I appreciate your help. Thanks.”
Supergirl doesn’t look too convinced, but she can’t ask any further questions before she hears something — she mutters something that sounds to Lena like ‘explosion’ — and flies away.
***
Lena wishes she could say she’s figured things out in the couple of hours between her near death experience and Clark Kent walking into her office with a young woman in tow, but she’d be lying.
There’s been an explosion, and she’s — of course — somehow linked to it via the never-ending source of issues that is her last name, and now Clark Kent is here to be an extremely unbiased reporter, she’s sure. With everything that’s going on, the last thing on her mind has been Supergirl and the colors she’s somehow brought into Lena’s life.
Mind you, she’s sure it’s all as simple as the force of being moved at superspeed having knocked something around in her nervous system and made a new connection somewhere. She’s sure she’ll figure it out as soon as she can focus on it for a moment. But right now she has far more important things in her mind.
Except.
If her theory is right, it was Supergirl’s superspeed making her see colors by accident. And if the generally accepted theory is right (but it is absolutely not), then it was meeting Supergirl, her soulmate (oh, good grief), what caused it.
So.
Why does meeting Kara Danvers, not-a-reporter-just-tagging-along, make every color around her suddenly more vibrant than before? Why has she just realized the green on the succulent by the window is not the exact same shade as the green on the folder on her desk?
Lena Luthor hates when things don’t make any sense.
What people think writers’ search histories look like: how to get away with murder, best way to dispose of a body, how long do humans take to decompose, how much blood do you have to lose to die, can i strangle someone with dental floss... etc
i love that your characters are older than 20+ years old which i think is a weird thing to say but like, that's fucking great. i'm 24 but i have a lot of anxiety about the future and all that and it's just nice to see 30 year olds because i feel like that can give people like me actual hope that there is a future, and that the future could be ok? idk, anyway i hope you have a good day, thanks for reading
That is not weird at all, actually! I get it. Sometimes it feels a lot like all the excitement and fun and adventure and romance (if that’s your cup of tea) must happen in your 20s, because once you hit 30 you become an elderly NPC in the background of young people’s actual stories. But as an ancient 34 year old, I’m here to tell you that (spoiler alert!) that’s all lies.
Lies and slander, I say.
Being in your 30s is the bomb diggity. You get to do things like say ‘the bomb diggity’ unironically because nobody expects you to be up with the times. It’s awesome. I was an anxious child and an anxious teen and an anxious young adult and I’m still an anxious adult-adult but I can tell you I’m loving my thirties.
When I was in my early twenties I felt a lot like I was running out of time to do stuff. I had to do this and experience that and I had to do it now, or I’d simply never do it at all. But you know what? I turned 30 and then 31 and 32 and I didn’t lose the ability to have fun or get excited about things or fall in love like an absolute idiot. In fact, I do it better, because I’ve been me for 34 years so I’ve had practice.
You didn’t ask for an essay on why growing old is fantastic, but I’m A Teacher so I can’t help myself sometimes. I’m putting it under a read more so you can ignore it, though! If you choose to stop here, please have a fantastic day and thank you for messaging!
I think life is a lot like a junk drawer. When you’ve been living in your apartment for a month it’s just a sad little drawer with like two paperclips and a button and a pair of tweezers in it and it’s kind of depressing to look at when you compare it to the beautifully organized drawers on Pinterest. But have you ever had the absolute pleasure of going through an old lady’s junk drawer? You can find a piece of hard candy from 1917 next to a pair of sewing scissors shaped like a crane in flight and a bunch of coins from random far away countries she swears she has no recollection of ever having been to. It’s amazing. Life-changing. Awe-inspiring.
I love writing about people in their thirties and forties and fifties and beyond for the same reason I used to beg my granny to let me rummage through her junk drawer and look for treasure: human beings are delightful little ecosystems and they only get better and more complex with time.
So while I can’t promise the future is going to be awesome, I can promise you are getting more and more awesome every single day, just because you’re adding lived days to your little junk drawer and slowly filling it up. And the thing about junk drawers is, there are useful things among the clutter. So the more you live and experience, and the more things you put in there, the more tools you’ll have to handle whatever The Future throws at you. And that’s pretty cool, I think.
Humans are the bomb diggity, and we age like fine wine.
donjon has tons of generators. for calendars. for demographics of a country and city. for names (both fantastical and historical) of people, nations, magics, etc.
this site lets you generate/design a city, allowing you to choose size, if you want a river or coast, walls around it, a temple, a main keep, etc.
this twitter, uncharted atlas, tweets generated maps of fantasy regions every hour.
and vulgar allows you to create a language, based on linguistic and grammatical structures!!! go international phonetic alphabet!!!
this is a revamped version of a wip page i shared on my old blog, which was a writeblr. this version is a little cleaner and feels more organized to me :)
features: some custom links in the sidebar, 150x150 images, three custom links for each project, and genre/status headings for each project. text area will extend to the length of your project description.
pls reblog or like if using! feel free to message me if there are any bugs or you have any questions!
Wherever you are doesn’t matter, as long as you are comfortable to write! Another Flash Fiction Friday is gracing us!
✨ New to FFF? Let us fill you in!
FlashFictionFriday is a fun writer-event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!
We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.
Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.
Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.
Post on your Tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!
Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12pm CET).
And then next Friday we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before the next prompt drops.
Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots – or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!
If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask! <3
You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!
We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.
If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/gA6sJMB
✨ All your amazing works from last week have been compiled HERE!
Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!
✨ And now, the prompt! ✨
[ # FFF 96 In Your Arms ]
Ah, what a lovely place to be! So safe and warm! One could sleep in another’s arms! One could also be severely wounded or die in another’s arms! Maybe those arms aren’t safe and warm at all either! It could be anything! So go and show us what your arms are like. Go and write!!!
The Procgen Mansion Generator produces large three-dee dwellings to toy with your imagination, offering various architectural styles and other options. Each mansion even comes with floorplans:
features: large featured image (i suggest using an image url from a site like unsplash). image is 500 x 375px if you want to use a url to your own image. sections include stats, progress bar, synopsis, links, characters, and extra info. you can remove sections you don’t want to use! two fonts, you can use whichever google fonts you want. all colors and text customizations are in the root section at the top of the code.
pls like/reblog if you use, and please don’t remove credit! message me if you have any questions or problems! :)
