#do you have a degree in writing or something

[jollyhunter]

Okay, if you’re struggling with this, let me tell you something:

I’ve done this to such a self-sabotaging degree, that I not once dared to write down a story - not even finish a single drabble - because nothing ever felt like it was good enough. I did this for over a decade.

About three months ago (when I posted my first ever one shot) I finally realized what my problem was.

I always focused on the end product. The goal. Would it be good enough? Whenever I would sit down, I imagined what the end result would need to look like. I’m a perfectionist to a fault, so this put a lot of pressure on me. And pressure and perfectionism cancel out fun and unrestricted creativity.

And that’s when I realized that the one thing most important to me, was completely neglected: Fun.

Now I try to focus on the path. And to have fun with it. Focus on what you have power over. Don’t do it for a goal you can’t reach.

Does every story I post fulfill my expectations? Absolutely not, most don’t for a fact. But I don’t care because I had some real fuckin fun writing that thing. (And I probably learned a thing or two)

It might sound so simple and obvious but to me it was like someone gave me my childlike personality back. Just create! Just do it! Have fun! No restrictions! No right or wrong!

I still struggle with my perfectionism, but this has worked wonders for me so far and every time I catch myself writing without fun, I stop and ask myself: why am I writing this?

tl;dr So I guess the moral of the story is: If you think you can’t get out of this hell-cycle, know that I’ve been there for over a bloody decade and I made it. So you can, too 🧡

Friendly reminder to not punish yourself for creating. 

[theprettynosferatu]

In Case of Thoughts, Break Mind

Oh no! Oh dear. It seems you've been having a lot of thoughts lately- certainly more than you should! And thoughts are icky! Thoughts make you sad and anxious and so unhappy! But fear not! Thoughts can happen to anyone, even the most addicted edgeslut, so don't be hard on yourself!

Lucky for you, I've made this handy dandy guide to help you turn those thoughts into nice thots!

In Case of Morning Thoughts

So you just woke up, opened your eyes, aaaaand... there they are. The day ahead flashing in your mind. All the things you have to do, or should do, or... boo! Such bad thoughts, sneaking up on you like that! But don't worry, you may not be able to turn them off, but you can direct them in more pleasant directions.

It's a new day! A new chance to be slutty! A brilliant opportunity to fall to new, delicious depths! So when those bad thoughts come, think of what you can wear to look like the sex object you are. Think of all the people that will look at you and imagine themselves using every part of you for their pleasure. Think of how you'll be able to objectify yourself and get soaked knowing you'll be seen as the dumb whore you are!

Now, you might want to rub that needy cunt. Do it! Starting with an edge will keep you dumb and horny for the rest of the day. Just don't cum, lest the thoughts come back!

In Case of Work Thoughts

Sometimes you'll have to engage with this whole "job" thingy. It sucks, I know! And they don't even let you rub unless you hide in the bathroom, which is so unfair! Plus, you don't want to be fired, so you will have to do *some* amount of thinking.

If that's the case, just remember: why do you work? To have money. Why do you need money? To have things you need and want. And that's what you need to keep in mind! You work to buy slutty clothes and toys. You work to have internet to break your brain with porn. You work to have your own place to take slutty pics and rub to what strangers online tell you to do.

You work to be able to please others.

So focus on that! Remember that work sucks, but it enables you to be a depraved cunt. Plus, you can always cocktease a bit a work, if you can get away with it.

You can also make a small mistake, just so you feel like a dumb whore that needs help doing anything right. Get someone to assist you doing something you know how to do. They will think you're such a stupid slut! And isn't that delightful?

And when everything else fails, you can always dip to the bathroom for a quick edge!

In Case of College Thoughts

Oh look at you, being all smart and stuff! I get it, I get it. Studying requieres you to think. Ugh. Fiiiine. However, remember there's a card you can always play:

You are smart. And I am well aware that being smart, as a rule, totally sucks. But the fact that you are smart does give you an extra edge (so to speak): Because you are smart the fact that you want to be a mindless, stupid cumdoll is just all the more pathetic!

A dumb toy, born dumb, can kinda fall into being a giggling slut. But you? You are working for it. You are degrading your own intelligence by using it to break yourself. Shit, you might be paying to be smart while edging those very smarts away!

So yes, university is hard. But don't you think a nice person online will get so much more pleasure knowing the cunt obeying like a bitch in heat has a PHD? That the drooling girl posing for nude after nude has a master's degree? That they got a college graduate to write "worthless holes" on her own tits?

So focus on that! The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

And I do so enjoy watching dolls fall.

In Case of Night Thoughts

Ah, night. The time for the shadow self to come out and play. But sometimes, some unfortunate souls find themselves worrying about the next day, or replaying the events of the daytime in their heads, or letting the silence of the night get to them, stirring all manner of unwanted and unpleasant thoughts.

Well... stop it!

Night time is edging time.

So whatever is in that pathetic head of yours, push it aside, start watching the strongest porn you can find, go into deep binges of reading smut and looking at captions, look at all the other good girls rubbing like you, begging to be made into useful fucktoys.

I've been quite understanding about your day thinking. But at night you have no excuse. Blast hypno files into your brain. Repeat your mantras over and over and over. Degrade yourself for others. Obey and discover new kinks you could never imagine.

And above all, edge. Edge. Edge. Never cum. Edge everywhere you can. Get your juices all over your furniture. On your stuffed toys. On your clothes. Make everything smell of your desperation. Then edge more. Go deeper. Edge to your deepest, darkest fantasies. Become a spectacle to yourself and others. Type your fucked up babbling and post it. Edge to your own perversion.

Night time is doll time. Don't waste it!

We all have thoughts. But with diligence, you'll be able to steer yours into making yourself a better toy. That's all you need, after all!

And if you feel your thoughts overwhelming you, just say to yourself:

I'm just a toy. No one cares about my thoughts. Not even me.

It wouldn't even be a lie!

[drdemonprince]

Hey, I don't know if you've any expertise or input on this, but I was wondering if you have thoughts on the intersection of being introverted/avoidant/socially anxious in personality and living in conservative, non-Western countries.

I see so much talk about sex positivity coming from Western commentators, and it just makes me so bitter as an introverted straight man approaching middle age, from South Asia, who has never had sex or been in a relationship and will likely never have it for the rest of his life.

So much of the advice I see online is geared towards Western cultures of dating and bars and cruising and what have you, which is either non-existent or niche here. It just makes me sad and feel so fucking lonely, and at times it makes me bitterly sex negative (which of course rebounds when the sensible part of me returns).

I feel robbed of something most people have, and I have no idea what I can do to change things as someone who gets incredibly anxious just being out of his house. It all feels frighteningly alone, and I find most people (rightfully) have little sympathy for a straight man who won't get laid.

Sorry there's not much to discuss here other than venting, but I thought maybe you might have a thing or two to say about it.

I don't have much that's helpful to say, it's gracious of you to message me in such good faith when so much of my writing is so American-centric as to have little relevance to your life. I understand that my way of life is so centered and catered to that it makes me an absolute fool about life nearly anywhere else in the world, so i won't pretend to have answers here.

I think in the broadest of ways that the same principle of putting yourself into novel and interesting social situations and practicing engaging with others you find interesting still applies. And I think there are probably pockets online where you can find people in your country who have more sexually progressive attitudes, are somewhat self-educated on matters of neurodiversity etc, and also feel really isolated and lonesome and desperate for more options. it might not be a ton of people, but it does not need to be. simply finding them and building spaces for you to interact (digitally or not) could help you feel a whole lot less broken and lacking in agency.

But from the sound of it you're starting from a really high degree of social anxiety and repression and you're going to need support in moving forward and you're going to have to start small. I think you need to have friends who can be there for you, and join you in going out into the world to meet new people (or building the digital equivalent). That may need to come before any real romantic/sexual prospect seems feasible for you.

Are there friends you can broach some of this stuff with? If not, are there people in your life who are kind to you that you could deepen your connections to by asking for support, taking an interest in their lives, joining them for things they like to do, and helping them out when they need help, too? A lot of the difficult work of socializing with people does transfer over into building romantic and sexual relationships. Working on making friends you can trust (and who see things somewhat the way that you do, or who are at least critical of things that you are in your country) can really help you feel less insane and alone.

And that is ultimately what all of us queer weird sluts are doing here in the US -- we are very much in the minority, though in cities we are lousy with options for socializing and have it comparatively very easy. It's still at its core a lonesome existence that we have to build spaces to cope with. You're really disadvantaged in that, but you can take steps to find people who are like minded, critical of the more repressive aspects of your culture or government, queer, freaky, have strange or nerdy interests, are disabled, etc, and slowly start to weave together a support network by engaging with them. there are never any guarantees that doing all of this will get you laid or that it will be good if it does, but this is the groundwork you can lay to make your social environment one that's better suited to you, and it will help, whatever little bit you can do.

Again I'm woefully out of my depth here, but I hope others with more relevant experience can also respond.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi ladies, I'm a 21 year old just about to graduate college with a creative writing bachelor's and I don't know what to do. I love writing stories but I also need money to live. I was thinking about grad school, but that's expensive and also might not be something I want, idk. Do y'all have any ideas? Thankies! ❤️

Before you seriously consider grad school, read this:

Most 22-Year-Olds Don't Belong in Grad School

Next, you need to stop thinking of yourself as a "creative writing major" and start thinking of yourself as a "communications specialist." You're wise to understand that paying for food and basic needs is not optional and that working on a novel is not going to pay the bills right now. So reflect on the skills your degree earned you, and translate them into a high-paying job. Lots of companies have "communications departments," and your education has perfectly prepared you for them.

Good luck, honey!

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career 

Your College Major May Not Prepare You for Your Job—but It Can Prepare You for Life

Did we just help you out? Say thanks on Patreon!

[opinated-user]

God I wanna vomit after reading "Don't Move". Call it Stockholm Version 3 cuz JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. And the comments are like "I read this in the bitch's (Courtney's) voice" and "Proud of you working thru ur trauma, CD" when no... The ONLY voice heard was Lily's. Yall are praising Lily for her fucking crime of molesting her sister and she is getting what she wants.

the fact that LO is pretending like "oh, this is an old file that i happened to find from when i was actively being molested" is actually hilarous because... 1. oh, so you can recuperate that from when you were a teenager, but you can't provide a single proof of anything seriously wrong that LIzzy has supposedly done? despite how much you have claimed she has been evil in every possible way? that is the only thing you manage to get back, but nothing else regarding all the other people you have accused of horrible crimes for years? interesting! 2. do you really want to advertise to everyone that the way that you were writing at 15 year old is exactly the same as your writing now in your 30s? is that something you feel happy to share with people? that in all of these years, your narrative voice has been stuck being the exact same all this time and you have never, ever, improved not even by chance? even if we assume that this was an acient text miraculously recuperated from the entrails of whatever device LO has... so what? seriously, what did you think writing that and publishing is accomplishing? it's not proof of anything. it's not evidence. furthermore, even though i understand that there is no right way to deal with trauma, i personally do not know many cases in which the one suffering the trauma decides to relives it through the perpetrator's POV. but then again, LO totally is the one with the totally real psychology degree (that doesn't even exist on her city) so maybe she's playing some 5D cheess psychological play in which she gets to imagine what her totally real rapist felt and thought about. but if you are on the camp of believing Courtney's allegations and think LO is the perpetrator, this would be around the fifth or sixth time that LO has confessed that she did something horrible as a kid and flaunting it for everyone to see. i hope you all archived that post, because i don't believe LO is going to leave it up for long. btw, as someone that has read shock content because their friends wouldn't stop sharing them around, i have to say... i have read worse, LO. once again, even when you set up to try to be "disturbing", all it comes out is a yawn. 2/10.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[thornheartless]

I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski but with John Constantine and his two headed seal kid from that one dream in Hellblazer, do you see my vision?

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I'm not ready to shut up about Aveline and Carver--so, when you go see Aveline in Act 1, you can catch up with her a little bit and that's where this conversation can happen:

Aveline: "It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. What about you, Carver? You were there. Do you feel something similar?" Carver: No. Aveline: All right, then. Bit of a tit, your brother.

I wanted to see what she would say if Carver isn't in the party. Instead, she says this:

Aveline: Carver was there. I imagine he feels something similar. If he allows it.

......well, at least she didn't call him a tit?

[lazy-toad]

Does doing homework make anyone else feel like an animal stuck in a trap or is that something I should speak to someone about mayhaps

[lord-squiggletits]

Honestly it annoys me that pride, ambition, and generally having a big ego are always villainous/evil-coded personality traits because personally I think if you genuinely are a prodigy at what you do you are 100% within your rights, perhaps even deserving, of flaunting your skills and being proud of the fact you can do something that only a small fraction of other people can do. Is it even ego at that point if you genuinely are as good at your field/skill as you say you are? Are people not aware that becoming a prodigy at something is something that takes lifelong sacrifice and practice sometimes to the point of giving up on having a normal life, relationships, etc even potentially destroying your own health???? God I fucking hate how pride in your own skills and ambition are so villain coded all the time. As if it's evil to want to be good at something and be recognized for what you rightfully earned

[sobeksewerrat]

I swear to god if I see one more person reducing Lute's character to "Adam dickrider/girlfriend/best friend/etc" I'll go insane like do you guys understand what you're doing

[hawnks]

I think it's important to read about writing and read about theory and craft for a lot of reasons but also just talk about what reading is like for you with other people because I didn't know you were supposed to see the story until I came across that one tumblr post. The Apple is a vague insinuation in my swamp of a brain. I hear 'the curtains are blue' and I just take their word for it. Been rawdogging literature my whole life and didn't even know it.

[carnivalls]

.

See the thing is. I know I'm good at writing. Like I have my weak areas or things I need to improve in, but it's not a skill I otherwise spend a lot of time feeling insecure about because a) if I don't believe in my writing literally who will b) if I want to publish my writing I ought to at least feel a resting level of good about it because editors and agents likely will not be cradling my face like a prize cat and telling me how talented I am while asking for their edits c) I've always had an audience for my writing even at its worst– I started sharing my original works online when I was around 16 & that really helped sell to me the idea of 'there will always be someone out there who likes what you do' d) untalented men never think this hard about the quality of their works and they always end up published anyway and e) I don't have many other thoroughly developed skills so why not have one I feel good about. Having said this. Awkward feeling to realize you're one of the authorial weak links in your postgraduate creative writing degree's social circle

[good-beanswrites]

A little something featuring Fuuta and Es after talking about their criminal lack of interaction in fanworks with @waivyjellyfish ! You had such awesome ideas (a few of which I'm still bouncing around in my head to post at some point,) but this one ended up taking over my brain -- I hope you enjoy 😅 Attempting to answer the widely-debated question:

“Oi, why didn’t you hit me?”

Es looked up from their paperwork.

“Prisoner number three. Most people are glad when they’re not struck.”

“Well, I’m not.” 

Es usually left the door open at this hour, in case anyone had any last-minute complaints before curfew. No one usually took them up on the offer. They figured that if there was any prisoner they could count on to complain, it would be Fuuta marching through their door.

“You hit all the other guys. You even hit some of the girls that were giving you trouble. So what? You think I’m too weak? You think I can’t take it?” Fuuta spread his arms. “I can, so show me what you’ve got!”

Es sighed. They put down their pen. They folded their gloved hands together, resting their chin on top. “Fuuta, I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why not?”

“As of right now, I have no reason to. If you’re referring to the interrogations…”

They reflected on the first one they'd shared with him. To be fair, the thought had crossed their mind. It would have been satisfying to give this rowdy prisoner a taste of his own medicine – striking him after such a dramatic charge at them. But Es was always good at reading people. It didn’t take them long to understand Fuuta was the type to lash out first and ask questions later. In fact, that was likely what had landed him in Milgram in the first place. 

Although Es knew they weren’t here to do any reformation, they wanted to try to show these prisoners where they’d gone wrong. So, they resolved to act as the bigger person. They’d prove that senseless violence was just that. By keeping their composure, they’d show Fuuta just how childish he was being. 

That wasn’t my only reason. I guess that's true, my actions weren’t all purely righteous. I still spent the entire time looking for ways to make him squirm… But it wasn’t all cruelty. I really did want to understand. I wanted to help. That counts for something, right?

Es never struck the prisoners out of anger, or as a petty show of power. It was a way to force the prisoner to mind their ego. When they’d gotten a bit too full of themselves, a bit too comfortable with the awful deed they’d committed, Es’ blow encouraged them to feel a bit more humility and guilt. 

By the time the second trial arrived, Fuuta oozed guilt. 

The moment Es entered the interrogation room, it was clear that he needed no lesson in humility. He hugged his arms to his chest. His remaining eye darted around the room in thinly-veiled hysteria. His voice trembled when he spoke. It didn’t require any people-reading skills to hear the remorse that underlaid all of his accusations and threats.

Hitting the others felt like giving a dog a tap on the nose after breaking a rule. Meanwhile, Fuuta snapped and snarled like a stray who’d been kicked time and time again.

Of course, he could never know any of this. Any way Es phrased it, Fuuta would misunderstand it as pity.

Well, wasn’t it? I thought he looked like a kicked puppy – that sounds a lot like pity. No, it was out of respect. Does that mean I didn’t respect the prisoners I did hit? No. I respected them too. Then, what’s the difference?

Fuuta was still staring at them, asking the very same question. What’s the difference?

“Each of Milgram’s prisoners is unique.” 

They were met with an unimpressed glare.

Es chose their words carefully. “Each one responds best to a variety of treatments. Some need attention to be comfortable, while others need time. Some need validation in order to confess. Others, a bit of debate does the trick. Some need a show of force. You –” remind me too much of myself  “– require something else. I’ve learned to change my approach depending on the person I’m dealing with.”

Fuuta’s features flashed with confusion, then shame, then his usual mask of anger. “Tch. How pathetic.”

“Excuse me?”

“So you just change your personality when it’s convenient? You put up fake smiles and fake attitude? Have some balls and just be yourself.”

Es was caught by surprise. “... I am. Those are all pieces of myself. I choose to bring out different parts when it would be most helpful.” 

“Sounds manipulative as hell to me.” 

It makes sense he doesn’t understand. He’s a very clear-cut person, with every aspect of his personality lining up in a way that makes sense. I find that predictability fun. Or, is it something that I envy? Could it be both?

They had no time to dwell on it, as Fuuta was struck with an idea. “Though, if you can do it on command, why don’t you give me the ‘you’ that wants to hit someone?” 

He spread his arms once more, hands gesturing to his chest. Es pretended not to notice him wince. They remained in their seat. 

“What are you waiting for? Hit me!” 

“I will not.”

“You just said you can change your personality on a whim, so let’s see it!” 

“That is not what I said.”

His good eye began to look frenzied. He raised his voice. “You scared? The big bad warden of Milgram, nothing but a big coward!”

“Stop this. You’re acting childish.”

“No! You’re treating me childishly! Let me see the Es that kicked Shidou! The one that slapped Kazui! Treat me like you treated them!”

“I hit them because they said something stupid. They deserved it.”

“Are you fucking kidding? I deserve it too! I deserve it! Come on!”

At the last word, his voice broke. He stumbled to his knees. He let his head drop. He sucked in strained breath after strained breath. Shidou would surely give him a lecture about getting so worked up with his injuries. 

Es finally stood.

They made their way around the desk. They knelt on the floor in front of him. 

“Why?” he wheezed. “Tell me…”

“Fuuta.” 

Should I just go ahead and do it, just to make him happy? No, I want to talk it out. But what do even I say? I'll tell him that I care. I can’t. None of the prisoners understand that I care. Why? Why is it so hard for them to see? I’m trying my best, why can’t they see? 

Es extended their hand carefully. They didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish, but in that moment their thoughts were too loud and conflicting. They needed to do something.

Fuuta saw the gentle intention, and immediately raised his own hand to strike. It froze midair, though whether it was from Milgram’s restrictions or his own hesitation, Es would never know.

Neither of their gestures connected.

Footsteps. Then Yuno’s voice, hesitantly from the doorway. “We heard shouting, is everything alright in here?”

Es retracted their hand.  A beat. Fuuta dropped his, too. 

“Yuno. Yes, we’re fine. Fuuta was just heading to bed. I’m going to walk him to his cell.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I said, I’m going to walk him to his cell.” 

Es stood, nodding to Yuno. When she’d gone, they turned their attention back to the prisoner crumpled on the ground. They made an effort to quiet their ever-racing thoughts. 

“Listen. I know you can handle yourself. I’m not doing this because I think you’re weak. You’re strong. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t see that.”

They held out their arm to help him up. He didn’t move.

“Sometimes you are a bit too strong, if you ask me. I mean, picking fights with your prison warden, really?” They clicked their tongue. “You should be grateful for a superior that gives you second chances.”

At last, Fuuta  took their hand. He avoided meeting their eyes, but his voice had softened considerably from his rant. “The only thing you give me is a headache.”

Es offered a dry smile as they pulled him to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”

[stuckwith-harry]

i am handing in my b.a. thesis (on motherhood in gothic fiction) in a few short days and though i have been complaining about having to write it for six months straight, right now i am actually feeling bereft of future opportunities to write academic papers about my silly little interests. for instance right now i really want to research & write about dracula daily & genre & the impacts of the newsletter format on the narrative (the addition of a timeloop)

i think about format and the specifics of narration a lot when i'm writing my own little things and i loooove when the narration - not just the narrator, but the act of telling the story - is part of the narrative. love when the narration is diegetic! love an epistolary novel (like dracula!) for this reason. should read more of them

inventory by carmen maria machado (short story! read it immediately!) is a GREAT example of this. the format of the narration is so integral to the story. does more than elevate it imo, i would argue the story genuinely wouldn't work any other way

g*d. i'm gonna have to become a video essayist

[emometalhead]

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