#stupid writer's block

[here-2suffer]

Do you do this writer ask? 👀

If yes when 💫 or 💌, pick your choose :)

If no then just ignore me OwO✌

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

There's been this dialog in chapter 2 of Lave and War that I've been very excited to write, but I was writing Fish Tales first. I really like it and I wanna get to it, but writer's block just hit me like a brick the moment I started writing again 🥲

[jishyucks]

i rly need to finish this damn series so i can move on

[cynical-crypt]

reminder to writers/self

its ok to write shitty poems its ok to write shitty song lyrics its ok to write shitty stories its ok to be unoriginal its ok to reuse a line from something else you wrote its ok to reference other works its ok to be proud of shitty writing its ok to be proud of great writing its ok to be proud in general its ok to not use overcomplicated intricate wording in writing its ok to write about dumb shit its ok to write about fictional events its ok to write something awesome but have one weak line you cant really fix its ok to write something terrible but have one amazing line that doesn't fit its ok to write about emotions you don't really grasp its ok to write

[gaywarcriminals]

Once finally left alone, Shen Qingqiu resisted the urge to snoop for all of 20 minutes. Look, if he was going to be stuck living as this man, he was within his rights to go through the original goods stuff! It was research, really— he was just doing his best to obey the systems draconian demands of staying in character! It was a perfectly sound course of action— Shen Qingqiu just wished he hadn’t started with the bedroom. 

There, in the second drawer Shen Qingqiu gleefully yanked open, was a neatly lined up row of items sealing Shen Qingqiu’s death sentence. Shen Qingqiu wanted to cry as he started at the vials of oils and jar of unguent, the coil of bright red ropes, and most damningly of all, a hyperrealistic dildo carved of black jade, big enough to rival the heavenly pillar. Shen Qingqiu knew the original goods was lascivious, but immortal biding cables? What poor shimei was he forcing??? And that thing: surely it couldn’t fit comfortably inside any woman, at least not without the protagonist’s skills to ease the way! Shen Qingqiu picked up the weapon— there was no better name for it— and wondered if destroying it would spare him any torture. Surely at least a fingernail or two!

“Qingqiu, I forgot to ask, did—“

Shen Qingqiu made a very dignified sound of surprise as Yue Qingyuan entered the room behind him. Yue Qingyuan stopped in his tracks, looking between Shen Qingqiu and the jade monstrosity. Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to make an excuse, but what could he say? This scene was inexcusable. Dying of mortification was certainly one way of avoiding being human sticked! 

“Qingqiu, you’ve barely gotten out of bed, you can’t possibly be ready for dual cultivation yet. Look how red you are, you must still be feverish.” Shen Qingqiu stared agape as Yue Qingyuan moved too close for propriety and pressed his hand to Shen Qingqiu’s forehead. He hummed consideringly. “I’ll go fetch Mu-shidi.”

“No.” Shen Qingqiu squeaked— the last thing he needed was another witness!

Yue Qingyuan sighed indulgently. “Alright, If Qingqiu is truly in need, this Qi-ge will use his mouth.” 

For the second time that day, Shen Qingqiu fainted.

[loserboyfriendrjl]

“you’re beautiful,” sirius whispered, tucking a loose curl behind remus’ ear.

he huffed a laugh, bringing his legs to his chest.

he knew he wasn’t. his nose was too big for his face, and so were his mouth and eyes. his ears, too. his eyebrows were too thick, and there was a certain sadness to his eyes that he could not quite place. his face looked wrong, in a way, and he shied away from his mother whenever she called him handsome.

“thank you,” remus said, because that was what he was told to do when complimented. nod and thank, even though he knew it was a beautiful, beautiful lie.

“i mean it.” sirius cupped his face, warm brown eyes melting into metallic cold. his cigarette hung loosely between his fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind, ash falling on the floor. “you’re so fucking beautiful, remus.”

said sirius, with beautiful, raven curls and fair skin, plump lips, hooded eyes and long eyelashes. said sirius, with high cheekbones and long fingers, straight nose, a devil-like grin, and an elegance of royalty.

said sirius, to whom referring as beautiful was an understatement.

“you are, too,” remus smiled, ignoring the weird feeling in his stomach, pressing a chaste kiss to sirius’ lips.

[pinkanonwrites]

I'm straddling an INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATING line right now where I'm once again hyperfixating in Vash The Stampede and wanna write about him. And yet when I sit down and try to write anything (Trigun, Transformers, even TWST) my brain is just completely and utterly empty. I'm really struggling to even put concepts together, and when I try to lock in on the few ideas I do have I can't make them go anywhere.

I took a break from writing because I was so busy with life and work but now when I actually want to get back at it my brain just refuses to work with me.

[adhd-merlin]

a lesson in manners

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: "Then go", Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, Established Relationship, Gen. Words: 500

“Well.” Merlin rises from his chair. “If there's nothing else.”

Guinevere turns to him – her disappointment clear in her eyes, even though she tries to keep it from her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“Sorry.” Merlin smiles apologetically. “I promised Gaius I would be back in time for supper.”

Which is fair enough. Merlin’s been dining with Arthur and Guinevere more often than not, lately. They have – perhaps selfishly – grown used to his presence.

“Hardly the first time you've kept him waiting,” Arthur observes. Just to be contrary.

“Precisely. He's starting to ask questions.”

“What sort of questions?” Guinevere asks.

Merlin looks at her with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “Ones I'd rather not answer.” Guinevere’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She closes her eyes when Merlin leans down to kiss her temple.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Merlin nods at Arthur before going to the door.

Guinevere looks at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes – which, as a general rule, Arthur finds unacceptable. Guinevere should never look sad. Not in his presence. Not if he can help it.

“Merlin?” Arthur calls. Merlin stops, his hand on the handle. “Is that the way to take leave of your king?”

Merlin looks puzzled. “I'm sorry. Did I forget to bow?” he asks, and he does so, with a jester-like flourish.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes. Not that it matters. Come here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin protests, weakly, but he obeys his beckoning.

“Guinevere got a kiss. I was just wondering at the disparity of treatment,” Arthur explains – not because he cares, but just to keep Merlin there a little longer.

Merlin clicks his tongue. “She's nicer than you.”

Arthur just looks at him.

Merlin sighs, theatrically, and Guinevere giggles.

Good.

When Merlin bends down – no doubt to give Arthur a quick peck on the lips – Arthur grabs his ridiculous neckerchief and pulls. Merlin gasps, grasping one of Arthur’s arms as he tips over, and slamming his knee next to Arthur’s thigh to avoid smashing his face against the back of his chair.

“Arthur— ” The rest of his objection is rudely interrupted by Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur kisses Merlin until he’s breathless – maybe from the kiss, maybe from the cloth that’s pulled tight around his neck. Arthur doesn’t loosen his grasp. He knows Merlin likes it. 

When Arthur breaks their kiss, Merlin blinks at him vacantly. He moves his lips as if to shape a word, but seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

Then, he remembers. “Gaius is waiting,” he mumbles – eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neckerchief and pats his chest. “Then go,” he says, amiably.

Merlin gets to his feet – a bit shakily. His ears are red. He walks to the door again, turns as if to say something, then frowns and closes his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaves.

Guinevere starts laughing.

Good.

“That was mean,” she says. 

Arthur takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him.”

[mystical-marlin]

I’ve been dealing with some really bad writers block for MONTHS

Which I’m very sorry for my lacking contribution to the gay

But I finally figured out why, and it’s the dumbest reason ever.

The Cape Henlopen.

The Cape Henlopen is a WW2 LST that runs as a ferry in New England, which is a boat I work on, and where I did most of my writing while on watch.

Well the cape went into the ship yard right after I posted the last most recent chapter of Crash Landing.

Well she’s out of the yard now and the writers block went away.

So, more coming soon.

[dracocheesecake]

Kai's Hair Routine

A drabble inspired by @skauni

Kai let the water pour over his head. Usually, he didn't bother with this-bathing, even at the end of a campaign, felt lavish on the edge of frivolity- but there had been a comment made by a certain someone that he couldn't let slide.

He took out a bottle of the rice water he had made (rice water! During the war, like he was some sort of noble in the Emperor's court!). It was poor stuff, really, having been fermented only a day, with water from nearby streams and rice from his own provisions- of which there was plenty. All that the soldiers ate most days was just rice.

Kai gritted his teeth as he poured some of it over his head, and smoothed it into his mane. It felt somewhat sticky, and he wasn't certain that this would even work- but if it knocked that smug look off of that lip-smacking wannabe buddha's face-

He grumbled and combed his hair out with his fingers (as best as he could- it was thick, and heavily tangled). This was a long process, but by the end he felt he had done something right. He rinsed himself off, dried as quick as he could, put his hanfu back on, and reentered the yurt he shared with his co-general.

Oogway was reading a report, but looked up when Kai's form blocked his light. Kai smirked down at him, his hands on his hips. His mane, freshly dried, hung over his shoulders in shining, black tresses that curled slightly at the ends.

"See?" He said, "I do know how to wash it."

Oogway chuckled. "Yet you still haven't learned to brush it."

Kai's eyes widened. He grit his teeth, flushing to his ears. "I did too!" He snapped, "It's just-"

His jaws shut again. Then he crossed his arms and turned his face away. For all the fearsome titles he had acquired, at that moment he looked like a pouty toddler. Oogway laughed again, but there was a more gentle lilt to it that made Kai soften.

"I know. Come here and we'll see if it can be amended. Maybe you'll end up looking like we can present you at the next treatise signing."

Kai's ears flickered back. He grit his teeth again. "I didn't look that bad," he grumbled. But he still sat down on a mat in front of him, his back turned towards the tortoise so he could work. Oogway picked up a nearby lacquered box, green and gold, and opened it. Inside was a selection of shubi- combs of different fineness.

From amongst these he plucked the largest, a thick-toothed shu of polished jade. He hummed again, then took up a section of Kai's mane, brushing it.

"You were still covered in blood," Oogway noted colloquially, "and mud, and who knows what else. And your mane caught fire after you passed the torches and stayed lit, probably because of all of the grease in it."

"It. Wasn't. That. Bad," Kai insisted. He crossed his arms again, huffing and grumbling under his breath. Oogway rolled his eyes, but dropped it for now. After a moment he continued humming.

"It was thoughtful of Lord Boqin to send you these combs," he said as he worked, rooting out each tangle- and there were plenty of them. Kai snorted.

"And those calligraphed scriptures for you. But if the terms we lay down tonight go over- they will, he doesn't have a choice- he'll be sending assassins next."

Oogway separated the layers and pinned them back with a few fine-toothed bi. "Oh, undoubtedly. But at this point, that just comes with being a warlord. Have to get them first."

He paused after he said this. There was something in his mind that seemed to ring every time he thought like this, every time this subject came up, something that had been bothering him more and more throughout their bloody career; something he would never bring up in front of Kai, of course...But sometimes he wondered: did it have to be this way? Why? Where would it all lead?

Was there another path they could follow, one not so full of bloodshed and treachery, one that would lead them to a life of peace and fulfillment that the glories of war could not provide?

He had been so caught up in these thoughts that he didn't pay mind to his brushing- not until Kai cried out. Oogway blinked out of his reverie, the worry dissipating like a cloud in the wind. He smirked.

"You didn't so much as groan when you got stabbed by a spear," he said, "but you cry when someone tugs on your hair."

"I'M NOT CRYING! YOU'RE TRYING TO PULL MY SCALP OFF, YOU FU-"

Oogway pulled the comb, pulling the mane taut, and Kai's head followed. He winced. Oogway chuckled and eased up some. With more gentleness this time around, he ran his claws through the knots, untangling them. A few more moments, and he began to remove the rest of the combs, finishing by tying Kai's mane partially up in a top bun.

"There. Now you look like one of the Supreme Warlords of All of China," Oogway teased lightly. Kai snorted and rose.

"As long as it doesn't catch fire again," he murmured.

"Well, that depends on how often you wash your hair." He seemed to think for a moment. "...You know, actually- don't wash your hair anymore."

Kai looked at him, tilting his head. "What? Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could start gathering the grease from your hair. We might be able to save on lantern oil- don't hit me!" He dodged Kai's blow, giggling.

[theartofdreaming1]

Working through an annoying art block at the moment and rendering (especially lineart) is scary right now, so instead I decided to just post a sketch (and hey, it's even colored! #progress) - so have some Laura & Max being cosy 🥰

[not-equippedforthis]

giving arthur one (1) iota of happiness before his life comes almost comically crashing down

[musical-chick-13]

So I guess ultimately my question is why are we assuming that Nayuta specifically meant “Denji belongs to me definitively, and you are trying to take his attention away from me?”

Aside from the fact that narrative misdirection is a thing and that I think it would completely contradict all the themes of the story thus far to just have her be Makima 2.0 and inherently evil...

We don’t actually know if she and Yoru recognize each other or not? Even on a subconscious level. If she does recognize Yoru (and, reasonably, knows how her powers work) calling Yoru a thief could have meant that “You are trying to steal Denji’s spinal cord to make a weapon” or even “You have stolen this random girl’s body to use for yourself.” (Even if she doesn’t know specifically that Yoru is sharing Asa’s body, she might still be able to tell that something weird is going on?)

She’s still a child, she might have just impulsively said the smallest amount of words that would sort-of convey what she was feeling.

I’m not worried yet.

Yet.

[alpinelogy]

.

[champion-prism]

People be like "horikoshi is a bad writer" because the manga has character dynamics they don't like? Like someone just said that Horikoshi is a bad writer because Izuku idolizes All Might too much...

Y'all someone isn't a bad writer because they don't emotionally interpret THEIR OWN characters the way you do. Bad writing is inconsistencies and poor worldbuilding and making it difficult to suspend disbelief.

"Horikoshi is a bad writer because Bakugou is favoured by teachers when he shouldn't be" that's not Horikoshi being a bad writer btw. That's him setting up a character's social surroundings and situation, much in the way they happen in real life- in unpredictable, often "unfair" ways.

"Horikoshi is a bad writer because he focuses on Bkg and Izu while stronger characters like Denki or Star and Stripe are wasted/ignored/killed off" actually that's called having a protagonist and a deuteragonist.

I literally saw someone calling Horikoshi a bad writer because he doesn't treat his MC "professionally". Literally, it's unprofessional because Izuku has to lose his quirk/maybe die/maybe lose an arm/not have the ending y'all's wanted. UNPROFESSIONAL. An author doing what he wants with HIS STORY and HIS MC is unprofessional now???

Like fr I get it. If he loses OFA I'll be devastated. But that doesn't make Horikoshi a bad writer. If anything, it makes a damn good one for being able to affect his audience in this way.

Horikoshi is not a bad writer because he doesn't do what YOU personally want with the characters and plot. Do you hate Bakugou? Well, then he's doing a damn good job writing an antagonistic character. Do you think All Might is a terrible teacher? That is DELIBERATE.

[alexridersdriedblood]

Alex’s palms are stained with blood, the crimson colour staining his calloused skin — as he moved through the streets of an abandoned town he felt bile fill up his throat, he swallowed it down. Alex couldn’t take the chance of vomiting because of lack of sleep and food; his stomach growled underneath the bag of supplies he was given — he had no idea why he was in this place, forest covered the rest of the unforgiving landscape. He had to kill an innocent man for supplies, hurt him for the sake of living. There was nobody, no animals just abandoned, torn down buildings — covered in soot and blood from the building that he had killed somebody in he stumbled on, he was given a flask of water. It was lukewarm by now — but he still managed to drink some of it. Far above, a wide glass window could be seen, a man with black tinted glasses observing the young man’s actions, behavior without food and lack of sleep.

Alex was aware of this, the man of course didn’t have eyes through the vegetation so the blonde was slowly making a grappling hook — he knew that drugged gas was making him feel like he wasn’t eating and getting sleep, it made him feel like wasn’t real.

People tagged ;

— @annt-i @lastlymatt

[ I might continue this, I’m not sure :3 ]

[surpriserose]

“If game of thrones fans blamed male characters for their mistakes the way they blame female characters we would all be saying hoster tully caused the war of the five kings,” I say into the mic.

The crowd boos. I begin to walk off, when a voice speaks and commands silence in the room.

"He’s right,” they say. I look for the owner of the voice. there in the fifth row stands: george rr martin