Anime Journaling Novels & Stories

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU AND LET US MEET NEXT CHAPTER! note prepare for angst? and trauma some disturbing test and fluff a LOT OF fluff and SUPER A LOT OF ANGST. quick question, if i post a 30 chapter about depress person writing her daily journal would you read it? if so tell me cuz i'll totally post it tho it's not complete yet like any of my stories T^T

it makes Dylan giggle, putting his empty plate in their tiny sink before wiping his hands. "It is flashcard night. a whole new section ready to go through the laminator.” Andre starts pulling out his own notebook. one giant notebook that he uses for every class. "It’s annotating night for me. which I didn’t know until Rina told me this, did you know people annotate books…for fun? like they just sit down and make notes about books that they choose to read? Why would you want to give yourself homework?” Dylan tries not to let his face turn up at the mention of Rina.

he nodded, offering me the folder. I smiled. Of course, Darius boasts about his brother. I truly love that about these boys. They are always supportive of each other and our granddaughter. The four of them are a great balance to each other. I opened the folder and nod with a smile as I looked at the manga-style drawings. It was apparently me, in my youth, wearing my black jumpsuit with red trim and my face hidden behind the white and red kitsune mask in some panels. It was beautiful even though it showed a story of blood and darkness.

It was also the reason why she gave me a day to mull it over. Because... well, you see... when our relationship started, I quickly found out that she was as immersed as me when it came to the world surrounding anime and manga. She was into so many things in that world just the way I was or maybe even more. A lot of Anime, A lot of Manga, Visual Novels, Forums, /a/, Fan fiction, AMV, MikuMD, Cosplay, Anime Music, Drawing, Doujins... and Hentai... I was a pervert, and she was no different. She was a pervert too.

Jack asked. Dianna looked up from the under-bench cupboard to where Jack was standing, leafing through her art journal. “Um, yeah,” she said. She should feel embarrassed, but she didn’t. She was proud of her work. No, it would never hang in a gallery, but that wasn’t why she drew. The journal Jack was currently looking through was her concept journal for Paper Gate. The characters and scenes had changed a lot from concept to final production, but it didn’t diminish those early drawings at all.

Cara was still deeply immersed in her thoughts as she sat at her desk, scribbling in her diary. Her pen glided across the pages with a sense of urgency, trying to record every detail of the dream that had been haunting her since her therapy session. Her therapist, Jean, had told her that documenting her dreams was crucial to unlocking their hidden meanings, pushing her to be as thorough as possible. It wasn’t just a casual assignment; it was part of her journey to better understand herself, to untangle the threads of her subconscious mind. The idea of writing fiction about her own life felt strange, almost surreal, but Jean had explained that it was a way to externalize her feelings and memo

Theo was once again back in his office, doing absolutely... Nothing Back where I seem to belong nowadays which is the office, don’t be surprised girls. Just looking at magazines can be a really interesting job I tell ya, It’s not like my Job’s got nothing to it, I’m just so creative that I tend to be lazy a times. Come to think of it, have you ever noticed that creative and intelligent people tend to be really lazy? They’d just lie tummy flat on the couch and watch Anime all day, and yeah anime is still a thing in this era, like how could it not be? Although Hentai is what groomed us all LOL, don’t do it if you don’t want to.

Someone close? Aiden_22. Just a username. It started months ago, first through anonymous feedback on my serialized online chapters. Then the letters started coming—always with a book I already loved, or one I hadn’t read yet but instantly devoured. The rational part of me says this is weird. That I should be more concerned. But my instincts never flinch. They feel… safe. Seen. I tuck the note into my journal, placing it behind the elastic strap. There are three others in there already.

Her face was so focused, fearless, like failure wasn’t even a thought, that quiet moment of trying. He took the knife and its cold fire burned hot. Without pause, he dragged it across his palm. His blood wasn’t red, it was bright, liquid silver, burning with cold. The pain hit hard, squeezing his heart. He gasped, vision blurring, and slapped his bleeding hand onto the journal’s open page. The pages did not glow. They drank in the silver blood, the parchment turned black as night, then white lines burned bright, not words, but a perfect, simple image: a girl holding a small, hurt bird.

Felt his hands on my waist, his lips pressed against mine, heard him saying my name as though it were a prayer. I began drawing in my journal. Face by face, he landed on page after page. The sharp line of his jaw. The intensity in his eyes. How his hair fell at the front of his forehead. Cause I’d take those guys’ pictures and I’d rage all over them, with black ink obliterating his features until the paper gave way. I was spiraling. I knew I was spiraling. But I couldn't stop. One night, Maddie came upon me in the middle of a circle of torn pages, pen pointed down at the ground.