#support an author

[trishfullertonwriting75]

NEW RELEASE!!!

"Repent" is a gripping romance-thriller, which tells the tale of Alisha and Lee. Alisha has nursed her elderly patient for years, and the sudden, abrupt appearance of Lee with all his anger and hatred shocks her. They hate each other on sight, but secrets that could destroy lives slowly start to emerge.

Lee asks her for help with the biggest battle he's ever faced, a personal one that could have everlasting heartbreak attached. An attraction begins to form. Things begin to change. Danger lurks around the corner.

And someone wants her to die.

This is my fourth published novel, and as always, started life as a Thranduil fanfiction. Repent is available in ebook, paperback and hardback formats. Even if you don't read as a hobby, please consider sharing with friends. Every share and reblog counts in helping me to make it as a successful author.

[the-lazy-pig-author]

A glimpse into my novel

The house perches atop a hill overlooking the village, casting a foreboding shadow below. Its once-grand appearance, painted in faded black with hints of purple, now bears the scars of neglect and the passage of time. After the long and boring trek up the hill, Kelsey approaches finding the once majestic estate in disarray. The garden gate creaks open, swinging wildly in the wind, occasionally crashing against its rusted hinges. Within, wilted bushes and tangled thorns dominate the landscape, with sparse, brown flowers drooping sadly. The air is thick with the scent of earth and decay. 

The stone pathway leading up to the steps of the front door is sunken into the earth with various cracks. The stone walls in the garden has eroded and broken in several areas creating a look of tombstones long forgotten, their history lost forever. 

The porch is devoid of furniture except for a solitary swing set nestled in the far corner. Vines have ensnared the bench, with moss creeping across its arms. The rusted chain creaks as it sways in the wind. The shutters on the windows hang askew, boards nailed in place to keep them permanently off-balance.

In daylight, the garden could bloom with vibrant colors and fragrances, but at night, Kelsey observes a large shadow enveloping the property, casting a somber pall that stifles growth and vitality. This darkness, though not aggressive, exudes a passive torment.

With the home lacking comforts to create a welcoming atmosphere, the darkness finds no refuge to hide monsters or deceive the eye. It simply lingers, an extension of the homeowner's despair, weighing down everything around it into melancholy.

Kelsey raises a hand to knock but upon first striking the door, it glides open effortlessly. The creak is loud and echoes down the hallway. The entrance is lavish. The foyer boasts a grand staircase adorned with a wrought iron railing leading to upper levels veiled in shadows. An ornate chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, casting flickering light on the walls adorned with dark wood paneling. The light is dimmed heavily creating the sense of more of a blackhole then solstice from the dark outside. 

Two entrances flanking the door lead to distinct living spaces, their interiors crowded with furniture draped in heavy fabric. The rooms lie in darkness, devoid of illumination save for a faint echo of light cast by the chandelier, offering mere glimpses into their depths. As Kelsey ventures deeper into the hallway, the wind whispers through, rustling dead, dried leaves.

You like? There's more where that came from! It also has art!

I write original novels and fanfiction, aiming to pair each chapter or story with accompanying artwork. While I occasionally post on Tumblr and AO3, exclusive access to art, chapters, behind-the-scenes content, and early merch releases is available on my Patreon.

Not all artwork or stories will be shared on Tumblr or AO3.

[thebibliosphere]

I've had a couple of messages over the last few days from folks saying things like, "Sorry, I can only afford to get your book through the library," and I need you to know I am gripping you by the shoulders, I am shaking you gently, and I am begging you stop apologizing for using library services.

After Amazon and Payhip, the quarterly checks I get from Overdrive/Libby are my biggest and most reliable source of income.

My readers have been nothing but feral in their quest to get Hunger Pangs into as many libraries as possible, and while library lending pays an exceptionally modest amount, if enough people do it (which many of you evidently are), those pennies add up.

I am guaranteed at least $20 a month in library lending royalties. That might not sound like much to some folks, but to me, that's my b12 supplements covered for the month. That's the thing I need to keep me alive paid for.

I will never resent anyone who uses libraries instead of buying books.

I'm a disabled author who lives month to month at the mercy of my medical expenses. Even though I have incredibly generous patrons and supporters, I know what it's like to not be able to afford things.

Use the library. Please.

Use it guilt-free. You're helping the library and the authors, probably more than you realize.

And if you're in the US and haven't signed up for a @queerliblib free library card yet, you should! it doesn't matter what state you're in, the Queer Liberation Library offers free access to their catalogue of queer media across the US.

And if you've got the means, maybe help them out with a little donation. They're only able to expand their collection via the support of their patrons, and the work they're doing is hugely important.

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[pam0100]

Support authors from Fanfiction or Wattpad.

Click in the link to see my post on X: https://x.com/pamela70052894/status/1698111896979685446?s=46&t=V3oemgLi8Ds-k-ANV6FWVQ

[magpie-murder]

okay we need to have an intervention.

i've noticed that people don't leave the same kind of unhinged compliments under fanfics that visual artists usually receive (eg, "i want to eat your art"), so i've come up with a list that you need to start employing when your friends send you their WIPs and when your favorites update on ao3 but you're having a hard time commenting something that sounds intelligent and you still want to support them

"you're like if [famos author] (eg, Victor Hugo if the fic is angst) was into [fandom]"

"well THIS has been added to my pre-sleep daydream schedule"

"this fic invaded my mind and consumed my brain like a spore"

"I'M LOSING SLEEP OVER THIS ONE, FOLKS"

"yOu'Ve AlReAdY lEfT kUdOs HeRe"

"this fic has me scratching at my yellow wallpaper, it's so good"

"this fic has me checking under my floorboards for the heart of a kind man i murdered, it's so good"

"i'm making my parents read this"

"i know only one chapter is out so far, but i'm going to print this out, staple it together, and put it on my bookshelf next to the canon material"

"this fic gave me another mental illness"

(you can only do this one once) "i made an ao3 account specifically to bookmark this"

"i'm going to print this out so i can eat the words on the paper"

and a couple that are just nice (without the feral nature):

"i made a custom playlist to listen to while i read this fic"

"this fic reminds me of [song]"

"i really liked the part where [x], it really stuck with me"

"i really liked this line, [quote the line,] it was so well-written!"

artists: draw fanart of the fic!! it doesn't matter if you think your art skills are good and it doesnt matter if it's just a sketch!! let the author see it!!

make a moodboard!! for the fic!! let the author see it!!

[blue-eyed-author]

Writing rule:

Every character who speaks gets their own paragraph. If two characters are talking, each time they switch you must create a new paragraph.

Do not add more than one characters’s dialogue into a single paragraph or it will be too confusing for the reader.

[rs-hawk]

Dragon pinning you down by the throat with their claws and using you as a flesh light. Chuckling at your mewling and whimpering. Telling you how sure they are that you can take more when you cry out it’s too much. Praising and degrading you for each orgasm that shakes your little human form. “That’s my perfect slutty toy. My gorgeous and pathetic human. You’re such a good hole for me.” Pulling out to cover your torso and lower body in cum as a sign of dominance because you do and always will belong to them.

[jeonseoguu]

excerpt:

“And you feel like you’ll die if he touches you one more time. And he asks you what’s wrong, and you tell him the truth, and he smiles at you. He looks just like the sun. He looks more like the sun than the sun does.”

*this is fanart !!!*

fic title: nothing like the sun

by: @succubused

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273198

[bababaka]

Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.

So. After the ddos attack on ao3.

I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.

I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.

Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.

Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.

I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!

At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.

Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.

That warmed my heart.

Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.

Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.

Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.

[trishfullertonwriting75]

Heart Of Darkness

My 3rd novel is now available on Amazon in e-book, paperback and hardback formats.

Kita's life takes an unexpected turn in her new job when she begins to develop feelings for her boss. She stumbles upon the biggest secret he could ever keep from her, with horrifying and destructive results. Terrified and confused, she fights to retain her sanity and her life. In turn, he's fighting both to keep her and to stay alive.

Lies, suspicions, murder, explicit sex and horrific home truths all twist around one another in the battle to find the path to survival.

Heart Of Darkness was originally a Thranduil fanfiction 🥰

[goodluckclove]

Hey. Stop. Sit with me for a second.

It's a Saturday and I'm sleepy. It's been a stressful couple of weeks getting ready to move into the new house, but today should be calm. And I don't feel like working too hard. You know what I do feel like doing?

If you're a writer and you see this, reblog with a compliment about your own writing. Don't use this as an excuse to self-deprecate. Challenge yourself. Take yourself seriously.

I feel like complimenting myself. And I feel like hearing some compliments from my fellow colleagues of the written word.

It doesn't have to be a big thing. You're not proving anything, you're just being rightfully proud of your own efforts.

I'll start!

I'm really good at dialogue. It's always been my strong suit and it allowed me to transfer really well into playwriting when needed. I think I strike a good balance between natural and sort of theatrical, and my banter is pretty solid.

Okay, your turn!

[brandyschillace]

The Forgotten History of the World’s First Transgender Clinic

I finished the first round of edits on my nonfiction history of trans rights today. It will publish with Norton in 2025, but I decided, because I feel so much of my community is here, to provide a bit of the introduction.

[begin sample]

The Institute for Sexual Sciences had offered safe haven to homosexuals and those we today consider transgender for nearly two decades. It had been built on scientific and humanitarian principles established at the end of the 19th century and which blossomed into the sexology of the early 20th. Founded by Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish homosexual, the Institute supported tolerance, feminism, diversity, and science. As a result, it became a chief target for Nazi destruction: “It is our pride,” they declared, to strike a blow against the Institute. As for Magnus Hirschfeld, Hitler would label him the “most dangerous Jew in Germany.”6 It was his face Hitler put on his antisemitic propaganda; his likeness that became a target; his bust committed to the flames on the Opernplatz. You have seen the images. You have watched the towering inferno that roared into the night. The burning of Hirschfeld’s library has been immortalized on film reels and in photographs, representative of the Nazi imperative, symbolic of all they would destroy. Yet few remember what they were burning—or why.

Magnus Hirschfeld had built his Institute on powerful ideas, yet in their infancy: that sex and gender characteristics existed upon a vast spectrum, that people could be born this way, and that, as with any other diversity of nature, these identities should be accepted. He would call them Intermediaries.

Intermediaries carried no stigma and no shame; these sexual and Gender nonconformists had a right to live, a right to thrive. They also had a right to joy. Science would lead the way, but this history unfolds as an interwar thriller—patients and physicians risking their lives to be seen and heard even as Hitler began his rise to power. Many weren’t famous; their lives haven’t been celebrated in fiction or film. Born into a late-nineteenth-century world steeped in the “deep anxieties of men about the shifting work, social roles, and power of men over women,” they came into her own just as sexual science entered the crosshairs of prejudice and hate. The Institute’s own community faced abuse, blackmail, and political machinations; they responded with secret publishing campaigns, leaflet drops, pro-homosexual propaganda, and alignments with rebel factions of Berlin’s literati. They also developed groundbreaking gender affirmation surgeries and the first hormone cocktail for supportive gender therapy.

Nothing like the Institute for Sexual Sciences had ever existed before it opened its doors—and despite a hundred years of progress, there has been nothing like it since. Retrieving this tale has been an exercise in pursuing history at its edges and fringes, in ephemera and letters, in medal texts, in translations. Understanding why it became such a target for hatred tells us everything about our present moment, about a world that has not made peace with difference, that still refuses the light of scientific evidence most especially as it concerns sexual and reproductive rights.

[end sample]

I wanted to add a note here: so many people have come together to make this possible. Like Ralf Dose of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft (Magnus Hirschfeld Archive), Berlin, and Erin Reed, American journalist and transgender rights activist—Katie Sutton, Heike Bauer. I am also deeply indebted to historian, filmmaker and formative theorist Susan Stryker for her feedback, scholarship, and encouragement all along the way. And Laura Helmuth, editor of Scientific American, whose enthusiasm for a short article helped bring the book into being. So many LGBTQ+ historians, archivists, librarians, and activists made the work possible, that its publication testifies to the power of the queer community and its dedication to preserving and celebrating history. But I ALSO want to mention you, folks here on tumblr who have watched and encouraged and supported over the 18 months it took to write it (among other books and projects). @neil-gaiman has been especially wonderful, and @always-coffee too: thank you.

The support of this community has been important as I’ve faced backlash in other quarters. Thank you, all.

NOTE: they are attempting to rebuild the lost library, and you can help: https://magnus-hirschfeld.de/archivzentrum/archive-center/

[vyhonella]

hi I'm alive here my new hyperfixation (help)

[lea-knows-the-devil]

Source, Eng translation by me