#Need to work on my writing skills.

[thedarkmysticsofvirus]

I feel different... Angrier.

I can still feel the key turning inside my back, Is this unusual? Maybe... and hell it was painful.

"It worked; my project actually worked!" When he heard Mary talk it only came out as blurs to him, it's a shame he couldn't hear her angelic voice, yet he could still hear the key ticking. Do I need to lie down?No, too much energy for that, I think I'll be alright. for now.

3 days have passed; Every time Larry pass through the halls, he could feel most of his classmates giving me weird stares. Was it out of confusion, or amusement? No, it could be both if you tried hard enough.

Chattering and whispering could be heard, sounded like they were making fun of him, one could utter to her friend almost giggling; it wasn't very funny. The talking grew louder and worse, walking near a crowd was a terrible idea. going outside to get some air would be better than this.

The exit was close by so he wouldn't waste time listening to them. "Wow, Scaredy Larry has a new accessory? Really suits you."

Out of all people he had to be approached by Kenneth and his friends(lackeys). Larry gave a dour expression to the group. he didn't want to deal with their crap today, he tried to walk away but one of them was blocking his path, "what's with the look, I just wanted to pay a compliment" his tone sounded cold and fake.

"Fuck off." Was all I could mutter before I felt a tug on the key, I flinched quickly and shoved his hands off. "What's with the key, you trying to cosplay as a toy?" Kenneth questioned as he tugged it again; he swatted him back with his own book, but it didn't stop there when his lackeys tried to grab it as well, one of them was even recording!

The moment he caught Larry off guard, Kenneth twisted the key in an instant; letting out a pained scream the poor guy almost collapsed, he just stood there and finally lets it go, but it didn't stop the agony and discomfort. Attention started to draw even as Kenneth and his friends ran off somewhere else, leaving Larry alone. it was so nice that one of my classmates took pity enough to take him to the nurse, won't be much help though. ... It took a bit to recover before getting sent back to class, yet the stings still remain. Larry couldn't focus on the lesson, nor could he focus much on the assignment. his thoughts still linger at the fact Kenneth felt that confident to twist the key and thinks he can get away with it. the poor thought of it made his blood boil and his pencil snap. He's not going to let it happen again. Not this time.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[mummer]

okay folks i need to get real with myself. how do i regain the nerve to start writing original fiction again and start tackling an extremely ambitious project that for now only exists as clouds in my head. Genuine opinions welcome

[birdy-bird27]

This is an unlikely crossover! But one inspired by @volivolition I put our two blorbos together :)

[murderofravens]

yuji x curse-user!reader... dubcon/noncon... curse user reader who is with mahito.. yuji beats mahito then sets his eyes on her.. yuji throwing her around and using her.. taking revenge for the way she helped mahito.. please listen to me guys..

[enswbl]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIMMY SMITH! [On being in a band] – It's like a fucking end credits montage, like strobe effect photographs of like backstage parties, and then shows, and then people's faces, and then fucking drinks, and drugs, and beaches, and hotels, and vomit. You know, it's like everything. It's like full exposure to life.

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[beaconfeels]

Alpha Werewolf Chris Argent

Thoughts? 👀

(Also yes I'm throwing stuff at you that's kinda gnawing on my mind rn 😂

Also also yes I'm writing most of these ideas myself - or at least intend to 😂)

I’ve not spent a lot of time thinking about Chris being turned, and even less about him being an alpha werewolf, but there is certainly plenty to think about!

One of the things I think about right away is the fact that Chris wasn’t raised to be a leader, he was raised to be a soldier. He was raised to answer orders without question, to believe in the mission, to ignore anything he sees that doesn’t fit the narrative he’s been given. So it’s interesting to think about him as an alpha wolf with those alpha urges to build a pack.

I feel like I can’t fully trust myself in how I view Chris, because he’s probably the character I project onto the most. I grew up in a cult, so I tend to think about the aspect of him being raised in a certain belief system and then having that turned on its head. So this could be me projecting, but I do think that Chris thought he was doing the right thing, or at the very least, he did a pretty good job of convincing himself that he did. He learned early and often that asking questions and having doubts was frowned upon, if not deadly, so he refused to see anything that made him unsure of the black and white world he’d accepted as truth.

It’s interesting to think about the ways him being turned would flip that even faster and more intensely maybe. I also think whether or not he got turned before Victoria died would make a big difference. If she was alive, would she have convinced him to end his life like she did her own? Would she have even given him a choice?

If she was already dead, I have zero doubt that he would have done everything in his power to stay alive for Allison. Personally, I’m most interested in thinking about the idea in my head where his dad and sister are hellbent on killing him, so he ends up having to rely on the ragtag McCall/Hale pack to save him. Good lord. I’d have way too much fun tormenting…basically everyone in that scenario 😂 (one could also do all kinds of shippy things with it, if they so desired)

Anyway, I feel like there are so many directions someone could go with alpha Chris, and thank you for making me think about it more! It’s fun to put the blorbos on the spin cycle and just rattle them around for awhile sometimes.

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[rollercoasterwords]

You have probably answered this before, but have you ever considered becoming a published author ? Your writing style is soo good

sure lol i’ve considered it but the older i’ve gotten & the more i’ve learned abt how the publishing industry actually works the less it’s become a priority… “author” was like my dream job as a kid but it takes a lot of time & money & connections that i simply don’t have rn 2 write & publish novels so! maybe one day i’ll give it a go but 4 now i’m more focused on writing & publishing nonfiction articles/research as part of my work…of course that is not something i will make money from lol but it’s what i’ve gotta do if i want a shot at building a career in my desired field so. current priority lies there…

anyway appreciate the compliment glad u enjoy my writing <3 let’s all hold hands & enjoy it 4 free…

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone else have near-perfect executive function at work; but at home, have literally no energy or motivation to do anything except lie in a dark room, with something in or on your ears for several hours?

[bsaka7]

ARGH maybe i should really have gone to engineering school or stuck with math i do like numbers and shit i also don't care. i loved robotics i was good at cpp and great at calc i could have stuck it out.

[pochapal]

girl who is getting a bad grade in phd (my personal development review is marked as "incomplete" after i didn't attend any skills training courses because if i ever didn't know something i needed to know i just opted to figure it out myself instead of admitting weakness and confessing to people in authority that there is even a single gap in my skillset [i also don't believe you actually need any training in how to write a novel and a thesis] {this is not hubris})

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[venesins]

Opening google docs to write more exposition for LW and then just staring at the screen for 20 minutes was very humbling. I may need to go to bed