#but you can rest easy now

[if-mirrormine]

as an alternative to "if you have writers block, kill a character", may i try (likely in vain, i am aware 💀😔💀) to give you my professor's advice that's helped me??

he said "you can only be affected by writer's block if you believe it exists" which, at first, made me go "bitch? ive felt it?? youre so wrong?"

until he continued and said "writer's block is a nebulous problem with no consistent or reliable solution. and when we eliminate that as an option, we are forced to be specific about what is wrong. it can be burn out, fatigue, stress, Depression, a lack of discipline, time blindness, ADHD or autism, some medical or pharmaceutical variable, a mixture of multiple reasons, or any meriade of any other reason or reasons to justify and validate why writing needs to go on the backburner for a bit or even several years. but the big difference is all those specific things: unlike writer's block, they do have treatments, cures, and/or accommodations"

and to that, i do agree, i see his logic in "take writer's block off the table". though i see it moreso as We Should Reframe Writer's Block As A Vague Symptom Of Something Instead Of As A Diagnosis, kind of like how chronic pain as a symptom could mean ANYTHING in regards to diagnoses yet is still an important puzzle piece to finding that diagnosis

that is specific to me though. but i was told that re-framing back in 2018 or so(?), and ive never had writer's block since. i HAVE not written for months at a time, don't get me wrong, im not churning out pages everyday with writers block no longer in my life. but i do feel like i am making progress in dealing with my Other Stuff which then is me maintaining an opening to write (as opposed to cleaning up a block) and just being too tired by said maintenance to often indulge in writing. and not the stagnant "this is how itll be forever"-maintenance, but rather more like the kind of maintenance you have to do after a natural disaster for relief, bc i got a Lot Of Diagnoses who eould normally give me the symptom of writers block that im still in the early stages of unpacking and accomadating and etc. so, hopefully soon, ill have less and less maintenance to do and more and more energy to write. but yeah, thats just me. idk whats going on in your life, in your head lol

and this is, in fact, me hoping and praying and begging that you go "i prefer this" and not killing a beloved character

bc i wont lie. would sure love you NOT to kill someone i love in your game lmao

uhhhhhhh, alternatively kill the dad instead. itll fuck us over about learning timey-wimey stuff, add more plot-conflict as a result, and we get the weird feelings of grieving a parent you didnt know/like. idk. i just want my faves to live and he is Not One Of Them lmao ill give you a $20 to, if you GOTTA kill someone, have that one soul be his lol

i appreciate the advice and yeah, i can get behind this explanation of things. i mean it makes sense; motivation or simply just the ability to write doesn't just grow legs and walk away from you, there's gotta be other contributing factors.

i do feel the need to say though that how ever and when ever i kill off characters, i don't mean in game lol. i already have the whole game plotted out, adding in an unnecessary death would make things messy and we don't want that. so while i do have some deaths planned, some literal others not, any new deaths would only take place in drabbles.

atp i just need to get words on paper. or google doc ig.

[starscreamingg]

Okay I'm so sleep deprived so pardon whatever this is but something that's got me FUCKED up about ai generated pictures songs writing is that it just fucking kills the ability to analyse for me because there's no fucking INTENTION behind it. Like why was this decision made why were these colours used what does that say about the work NOTHING because a bunch of programming took work that DID have intent and theme and purposeful choices and turned it into SLOP. Like I COULD analyse this but it doesn't MEAN anything it's EMPTY I want to EXPLODEEE

[bacchuschucklefuck]

❗❗Official Class Swap Sorcerer!Kristen Post Alert❗❗ you can: look at her

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

End of Empathy (time for violence)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[adozentothedawn]

The Disaster Polycule (+ that guy no one really likes)

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

[whoblewboobear]

If you’re in crisis or having suicidal thoughts, giving a call or text to 988 can be life changing. If you just need to talk, they’re a great resource as well. Your life is worth living, it will get better. Our minds can be cruel, but just know you are loved and you are appreciated.

We may have lost someone in our little community. Worst case, I hope they rest easy. But I do hope they survived.

If anyone was affected by this, if you need to speak to someone or take a step back, take care of yourself and do what’s best for you.

[copper-sands]

starting to think that maybe it's a good idea to stop forcing myself to create and take a break actually

[boy-oneder]

My obligatory contribution to the Hole™ conversation. You're welcome✨

[charmonys]

Im sorry my brain had an Idea and scrambled to do it..

it's  his  first  night  on  the  express  and  he's  trying  to  figure  out  the  most  comfortable  way  to  sleep  on  the  couch  without  compressing  his  sickly  victorian  child  bones  when  he  looks  up  and  realizes  the  echoes  are  gathered  around  him  like  seagulls  on  a  french  fry.

"oh?  you  really  followed  me."  breaks  out  into  a  cold  sweat  as  he  realizes  the  moral  and  theological  implications.  "...  oh,  you  really  followed  me."

[daughterthethird]

Hettimir, perhaps?

A quick hettimir to end the night :)

[soapdi-spencer]

My dad's favourite character is no longer Jurgen Leitner! it's now Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London <3

"His youthful arrogance has captivated me." Wait until you see what happens old man

[amrass]

Not me playing RDR2 riding around looking for decent spots for the smut in my fanfic … And not me eradicating O'Driscoll hideouts to see if I can find a cute cabin with a nice bed … And definitely not me giving Arthur candy while I take notes on the scenery …

He's just resting there, chewing on his candy and getting all thick, squinting.

"Got a real bad feeling about this."

[purpleshadow-star]

Here's a reminder that ANDREW DOES HEAL AND LEARN TO FEEL. Nora never said that Andrew never heals or that he doesn't get less apathetic. She said the opposite, actually. If you don't like the extra content, that's fine, but please actually read it before deciding to spread the incorrect assumptions people have made up about it. Just because Andrew never gets to the point where he smiles and laughs all the time doesn't mean he doesn't heal.

(Also, Nora never said Andrew never smiles, just that it's hard to imagine, and if he did, it'd be with only Neil around)

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Shared (Eldest Short, after Arya and Islanzadí's reconciliation)

(A/N: Inspired in part by this post about Echo from The Bad Batch. Arya never stops unless she has to. It's just easier to deal with the trauma alongside Glen in between bursts of activity and research into Eragon's curse. It's always easier to sleep when you don't have to try, especially when you keep remembering the one you lost.

Islanzadí is...distinctly familiar with this particular problem.)

MODERN INHERITANCE: SHARED

“But you’re still eating, yes?” So this is what it was like to be mothered. “I’ve…I’ve rarely seen you since you began working on this…project.”

Arya couldn’t help the grin, leaning back in her chair. Being mothered felt odd for sure, but it did feel…nice. “I’m fine, mum. I’ve been eating just fine. And Glen and I just got back from Analin. I wasn’t intentionally trying to avoid you.” 

The assurance seemed to calm some of Islanzadí’s concern, a lightning-like strand of anxiety winking out as her shoulders relaxed. “I just wish you didn’t work yourself non-stop like this.”

The younger elf turned back to the array of paper on her desk and picked up a pen. For a moment, it seemed as if she was going to leave the conversation at that, wave Islanzadí off like she had so many times before their recent revelations. 

And then…

“I…” Arya gripped the pen a bit tighter than necessary. “It’s easier to sleep if I’m exhausted.”

Islanzadí took the confession in. It wasn’t surprising. Evandar had been much the same when his Recall was rearing its head, forcing himself to stay awake until he simply couldn’t any more. “...Less time to think?”

A grim smile twisted her daughter’s lips when she looked over her shoulder, leaning an arm over the back of the chair. “Less time to think.” 

“The nightmares–”

“Will come no matter what I do.” Arya tilted her head, stray fringes flopping over with the movement. “Glen had the best sleep schedule around before I turned up again, and he still had nightmares every few nights.” Again, she paused. “It’s just better if I’m out when my head hits the pillow. I don’t like–” 

Her eyes flicked to the bed, words dying in her throat. It was sized for two people. The sheets were still tucked tight, the comforter still crisp and only wrinkled where she occasionally sat to read and, in the…the weaker moments…try and catch the barest scent of him, remember what it felt like to wake up with him beside her, whispering to him in the night. Making sure he was there and safe, but now he wasn’t, Fäolin was d–

Islanzadí stepped forward, breaking her out of the yawning spiral.

“I know that you still sleep on the floor.” Her mother’s voice was soft. “But…sometimes, sleeping in a different room is a bit more bearable. It can help.”

Arya blinked. Another room? “What do you mean?” 

The smile was sad when it touched Islanzadí’s lips. “After…your father died. I couldn’t sleep in our room. All I could think about, every night, was that he was no longer beside me.” 

For the first time, Arya heard a crack of pain through the softness, the subdued notes of her mother’s voice not a lack of emotion but a blunting of it, a blunting of it to try and protect. But now…now they shared at least one particular pain, a certain loss that they could relate to in ways parent and child should never have to share. 

They were stronger for it, though. And infinitely more understanding.

“I would go to my study and sleep on the couch there.” An unexpected laugh bubbled up from the queen’s throat. “I suppose I never stopped that entirely. That’s why there’s always blankets on the armrests.”

Arya grinned. “I’ve always thought that couch was very comfortable.” 

“It is!” Islanzadí returned the smile, brighter than before. The light at her eyes dimmed only just. “If you are up to it, I think you should try it tonight. Get at least some rest?”

“Yeah.” Arya tapped the pen on the table idly, staring off at the bundled bedroll beneath the bedside table. “Yeah, I think I will.” 

Relieved, Islanzadí pressed two fingers to her lips and then to her daughter’s cheek. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the woman’s halfhearted protest at the gesture, and left the younger elf to her new project. 

[baravaggio]

it's been a while since I showed face on here hi...me my icon and this dionysus sculpture from the vatican museums saw you from across the bar and we really liked your vibe...