#back to the writing hole i go now

[ghost-proofbaby]

i’m gonna make you some of my famous art

i’ve drawn many people like billy ray cyrus and billy ray and soon eddie munson (24 hour era)

you’re gonna love it

please i adore any art sent my way and cherish it forever truly

[lucabyte]

A belief in Nominative Determinsim

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[mephoj]

nickel and balloon would be so much more interesting if people explored the way nickel became everything awful that balloon used to be but so much worse ironically all in the name of "protecting" everyone from that history repeating. and not softboy tsundere yaoi or whatever is going on in those tags rn

[elsfairy]

rockstar!abby gripping your jaw between her rough fingers and forcing you to obediently open your mouth just so she can spit her gum into your mouth before her show. “be good and save that for me, okay, doll?”

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.

[mossy-paws]

Lightblox (PHIGHTING!)

“And I’m floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today.”

alt versions:

[internetkatze]

posting this here after much self-debate bc i dont want to actually Start A Discussion about it but i need to get my thoughts out Somewhere

I watched Jacob Geller's new video about Fear of Dark with some mild interest; personally the subject is entirely unrelatable to me, I've never been afraid of the dark, I actually find it comforting mostly, but I watch videos about things I don't relate to all the time, that's fine. And Jacob, of course, is a fantastic writer, and his videos always have excellent thoughtful presentation, so they're just a good thing to watch anyway.

Which is why I am deeply bothered that never at any point he mentioned anything about blind people or how an absolute lack of perception might actually be someone's normal. He talks about people going into caves and blindfolding themselves and hallucinating visual input but not what might be happening in the brains of people for whom light has never existed. For a lesser essayist I might give it a pass, but this is the kind of careful extrapolation of a subject I might expect him to at least give a nod to.

And I find this especially salient, for an essayist who talks about games, because I watched another video a while ago from someone talking about games that were accessible to blind people (that is, you can get through them solely using hearing and/or tactile input) and how the vast, VAST majority are horror games. Because sighted gamedevs can't seem to conceive of "find your way around the dark" as anything but terrifying. And how this sucks for blind players both bc the lack of options if you happen to not be a horror fan and for the intrinsic assumption that your daily normal is horrifying.

I don't know, I don't have a neat conclusion to wrap this up with, but I can't help but notice that so many of the things he cited as "fear of the dark" are actually fears of other things (fear of being in the wild, fear of being underground, fear of being trapped/tied up, fear of being vulnerable while unconscious).

The actual dark? As in, lack of visual perception? While certainly there are things that are made dangerous by it, there are plenty of people in this world without one or more senses who are just having normal-ass lives (as normal as can be given general lack of disability accessibility/acceptance)

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[lgbtlunaverse]

I think I've been on tragedy brainrot for so long that it's had a detrimental effect on my ability to create for a source material that is both genuinely well-written and has a happy ending. I wanna write farcille fic so bad but ryoko kui did a way too good job at ending things and my ability to write post-canon fluff has been shot and hidden in a dumpster which means all my fic ideas have SUCH horrible vibes.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I want to make "Shadowstruck" an Inklings Challenge story so bad, and there's no way I'll be able to finish even part of it in time.

[rita-rae-siller]

Okay this is an absurdly specific ask for Storyteller Saturday....what is one wip outside of your posted/main one you'd like to talk about? Or alternatively, what is something within your main wip you want somebody to give you an excuse to talk about?

Feel free to answer either or both!

Oooooo, I’ve been looking for an excuse to rave about my vampire WIP!!!

So this is my longest story. The Price of Blood currently sits at over 120k words in draft 1. Almost 30 chapters. I took a break from working on draft 2 to work on The Lies They Tell during a fiction writing workshop I took in the spring semester at school.

It’s my other queer fantasy novel, featuring one very tall princess (Her name is incredibly long, but she goes by her first middle name, Victoria) that’s abducted by a vampire cult to harbor the soul of the God of Shadows and Subterfuge, AKA the vampire anti-christ. Her entire homeland Halaafin, ruled by the Halaa—sort of half elves basically? They’re one of the only people in this world that have magic. Pure humans can’t use magic—is overrun by this cult and basically destroyed. She makes a bargain with a spider witch that's also been betrayed by the cult to save her life and that of her unborn child. The ritual to summon the vampire anti-christ is sabotaged, but the vampires don’t know it. She manages to escape not long after.

Queue 15 years of living alone with her son in the middle of the woods of the neighboring empire until he’s old enough to help her fight the vampires and retake their kingdom. But things don’t go according to plan. The spider witch tells her she has to get a jump on their plans to destroy the cult early, before her son is ready by Victoria's standards. Queue her teaching her son a lot about his history and also her running into her childhood best friend/almost lover, a duchess in the empire that serves the empress as a professional monster hunter. The two reconnect to fight the cult, fall back in love with one another, and also work on healing from the trauma of losing their families to the cult. It's a very gay story full of angst, dry humor, and lots of dead vampires. Also stresses the importance of family and loved ones in the healing process, and how grieving is inherently ugly. (I wrote a lot of this WIP while my own grandmother was dying, so loss is a big theme in it, as well as love continuing after death)

Also guns. Victoria has been removed from modern society for almost twenty years, so when she comes back to civilization, she's introduced to more modern monster hunting equipment used by non-magic people. And let me tell you: nothing makes this giant bisexual disaster happier than getting to shoot vampires and monsters in the head point blank with a revolver.

[vacantgodling]

not to be weird and sappy on main, but frfr i'm so glad i have found a community of people who think my work is good

[captainsparklefingers]

Yes, it's technically Thursday, I'm always a bit behind the wheel. I got tagged by @grayintogreen, and I figured...well, what the hell. Maybe sharing a little bit of Unhappy Families will help with the writing motivation; I'm stuck in 1945 and absolutely dreading writing 1947, which is probably part of the problem. Turns out, trying to figure out how to write a downward spiral bender ending in a drug overdose? Not exactly fun!

But anyway. I don't really know who to tag but if you're working on something and want to share with the class, consider this a poke in the ribs?

And without further adieu, here's a little bit from Unhappy Families (or: one went up, two went down), specifically from 1929:

Pops dropped them off along the banks of the Hudson after what felt like the longest, quietest, most awkward car ride of Jonathan’s life. Tony’d sat uncomfortably close to him the entire time, his hands balled into two white-knuckled fists. Pops was silent the entire time, only speaking when the car stopped and he popped the trunk open to hand them two shovels.

“You two, get diggin’. I’m going to grab a few things and pick up our guest, and I’ll be back in thirty. I expect to see a decent size hole when I get back, understood?”

He and Tony’d quickly mumbled out a ‘yessir’ that seemed to satisfy Pops, who gave them a short nod, got back in the car, and drove off. Without looking at Tony, Jonathan started to dig. It was almost second nature to him at this point; he’d been digging graves for his father since he was fourteen, it was easy at this point to just turn his brain off and work through the task methodically. In, up, out, in, up, out.

He let himself get lost in the task and didn’t notice right away that Tony wasn’t digging until he caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, gripping the shovel and staring at it like he couldn’t understand what it was.

“Tony…ya gotta dig. You can’t leave me doin’ all the work myself here.”

Tony just kept staring at the shovel.

“Fer Chrissake…Tony, Pops’ll know you didn’t dig when he gets back. You gotta at least try, kid.”

Fuck, was he shaking? He’d been doing so well, too, kept it together in the car the whole time, why did he have to slip up now? Christ. With a groan, Jonathan shoved his shovel into the dirt and walked over to his little brother. “Tony. Look. I know what you’re thinking. And…you can’t think, with this sort of stuff. You think it was easy for me when Pops took me out to do this for my first time?”

He still thought of it sometimes, that night when he was fourteen, when Pops took him along to take out a few rival soldiers mooching in their territory. The way they’d begged and pleaded, their terrified eyes…how quick his father was with his gun, not even blinking as he shot man after man in the head. The way the blood spray looked on the wall behind them. The smell of blood and bodily fluids and gunpowder.

How heavy the shovel had been. How heavy the bodies were.

“You just…you get used to it. You learn to turn your brain off and go somewhere else. Don’t…don’t think of it as diggin’ a grave, Tony. Yer in Mamma’s garden, helping her plant the tulip bulbs in the spring. Just…we do what Pappa wants,” he said quietly, staring into the hole he’d been digging. “I’ve told ya before. Keep acting the way he wants you to, and when it gets tough just…hide in your head for a bit, let instincts take over. Eventually, it gets easier.”

“Is that what you do?”

“...yeah. Yeah it is.”

Tony sniffled and looked at the hole, the shovel, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he had this look of grim, strangely cocky determination on his face, and he shot Jonathan a toothy grin.

“Bet I can dig faster than you.”

“Like hell you can, you little shit!”

For a few minutes, the two of them were able to forget why they were engaged in a digging contest; they were just two brothers trying to get one over on the other. And…it was nice.

And then the car came back.

[mossterunderthebed]