#it writing

[liv45no]

Frank stepped into the kitchen through the garage door, careful not to make a sound. He had already taken off his shoes for that task; they were in his other hand, the one that wasn’t carrying his keys.

But he didn’t even make it past the doorway to know he had screwed up. The kitchen wasn’t as dark and empty as he had expected, instead, the small ugly milky lightbulb that was hanging from the ceiling above the kitchen table was bravely spreading white light. Sonia’s face looked like the white face of a ghost. A drained-out ghost.

Frank bit his bottom lip. “Why are you still up?” He asked shyly.

Sonia turned in her chair, causing Frank’s eyes to fall on the all too visibly baby bump, his wife’s floral nightgown covering it, like some sort of protection. According to the doctor the baby would arrive in between late October and beginning of November, and it would be a little boy.

“Why are you still up?” Sonia replied to Frank’s question. She had cried; her lips were pressed upon each other to a thin line. Her breath was shaky as she spoke again, “it’s three am in the goddamn morning. Where were you?”

“At work,” Frank blurting out, the thought are you serious?! crashing over him right after. Stupid answer, unbelievable answer.

Sonia scoffed loudly. “My goodness, how stupid do you think I am? No chef keeps their employees until after midnight in the operation if they’re not on a Night Shift. Where were you?”

Frank fell silent, staring at his grey socks on the black and white patterned kitchen floor. He needed to think of what to say next.

“You won’t like it,” he mumbled.

“What I dislike much more is my husband disappearing over the night and then sneaking into our bed as if nothing ever happened.”

Sonia’s voice was teary, close to break. In her fist she had captured a tissue which she now brought up to her eyes to wipe them clean. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You know, stress isn’t healthy for the baby,” she added.

Frank looked back up, their gazes locking. He stared into Sonia’s brown eyes, those eyes that always reminded him of caramel, and he wondered whose’s eyes the baby would end up with.

“When I was done at eleven, Jim from worked asked me whether I wanted to go drink something with our friends from work. I thought about what you told me about being more social and said yes. I lost track of time and I didn’t have a charger for my phone.”

That sounded believable.

Sonia threw her hands in the air. “That’s not what I meant!!” she cried, “I told you instead of working all the time I’d much rather have you go out with some friends and be home at a humanly hour! You didn’t do either of those things!”

Frank opened his mouth, but his wife wasn’t done yet.

“I sit here all day along, sometimes I even have friends over for tea. I am carrying your child, I’m in the eighth month for gods sake, there’s not much I am allowed to do! And you work every day from eight to eleven and then go out with people I don’t even know and crash back here in the middle of the night!!!”

He felt tears entering his eyes. He felt that familiar guilt in his gut, that nasty guilt that was slowly but surely eating him up from the inside.

Everything was going downhill. What had Frank ever done so wrong to deserve all this? Was it because he hadn’t left Sonia before she got pregnant and they got married? But he stayed, he knew he had a responsibility, if he could do this to her, he couldn’t do this to his own kid.

And how the hell was he supposed to explain to her that his cancer symptoms from his childhood had reappeared?

He had to end this. He couldn’t let this escalate.

“I don’t wanna fight,” he spoke up, his bottom lip trembling strongly, “we always fight. I’m sorry I went out with the others, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I didn’t check the time. That was unfair from me. But I can’t change anything about my work schedule.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Sonia, taking her little hands into his. He looked her in the eyes, smiling slightly.

“I know work hard enough so our kid can live a good life. And then, when he’s here, I’ll watch him and you go to your reading club, your tea time and you can go work for your sister again so we’re safe for a while.”

He squeezed her hands. “We’re gonna make this work. It’ll all be worth it in the end, I promise.”

Sonia began to sob quietly. Frank crooked his head. “Please don’t cry, honey, if you cry, I’ll cry too.”

Now she laughed softly. Sonia wiped her teary eyes as she said, “fine. Let’s do it like that. But please, Frank, come home in your lunch breaks. Come home after work, I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Frank scooted a little closer and put their foreheads together, placing one hand over her belly.

“I swear to you, I’m gonna be here with you and our little boy whenever I can.”

[lesbinewren]

we need to make using chatgpt embarrassing bc sorry it really is. what do you mean you can’t write an email

[pierog]

i'm so glad goncharov happened when it did, right before prolific public use of AI. that was pure honest gaslighting straight from the heart. real human whimsicality and trickery thru blood sweat and tears. we were a family. and we all gonched, together. you cant replicate that with any machine.

[animentality]

[derrypubliclibrary]

the fanfiction in my head is soooo good wish you guys could see this

[blueboxbeagle]

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

[sourdough-seal]

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

[out-of-jams]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[i-used-to-be-a-spy]

"you should be at the club" I should be working on my fanfic

[cityelf]

this poem is about being nonbinary.

[liv45no]

“I know your secret, your dirty little secret,” It sang, repeating that line before landing on the ground. It tilted its head, piercing Richie with its yellow eyes. “Should I tell them, Richie?”

Richie felt his inner storm intensifying, coming to its final, worst point - in where Richie would break down. Richie Tozier, the goof, the joker, the trashmouth, the smart ass, the one who never shuts up would break down.

‘It knows,’ Richie then thought, panic spreading in his chest, ‘It knows about me. It knows all about me.’

The one and only hope left that Richie had clamped to; Pennywise not finding out about him because he knew It could and would use that knowledge against him whenever It liked. For a long time Richie had only feared the people around him would find out - then he had run into that monster and now he was praying to god It would never know.

Something in Richie’s mind shattered into a million pieces, the window got opened - a memory. He saw small Eddie Kaspbrak before him, crying, sweating, holding his weirdly twisted arm. He saw him and at the same time he didn’t. He felt that need to squat down and protect Eddie, to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt again. And not like his crazy mother, like that psychotic Mrs K, no. Richie wouldn’t suffocate Eddie with his love, he would replace his inhaler. He would give him space, he would stay as close to him as possible, hell, he’d do anything Eddie needed.

Richie felt his fingers, those small bony pale fingers that he no longer owned (they were now marked by color and hardness and roughness), but stopped right above Eddie’s fragile arm.

Don’t touch the other boys, Richie. Don’t, or they’ll know your secret.

It hit him like a wave, throwing him back into the moment, into his adult body, into the ugly reality, to the spot he didn’t want to be. He blinked - and as if time had done him a favor, the world began to breathe again. The seconds went on, the hours passed, and Pennywise was still there. Richie squeezed his eyes shut.

[ad-wills]

[spider-artdump]

[write-on-world]

[alexanderwales]

There was a reviewer or commenter who said "I always keep track of how many mistakes the protagonist makes and after three, I stop reading the story and never look back".

I think about that person pretty frequently. We read for our own enjoyment, and therefore there's no wrong way to read a book so long as you're enjoying yourself, but ... maybe I don't actually believe that. Maybe there are wrong ways to read a book, and this guy found one.