#writer junk

[scarthefangirl]

Me everyday: *gets a fic idea* Yes I need to start this!

My 45 wips:

[diazheartsbuckley]

“I wish I could help you” is actually such an insane thing to say to your totally platonic male best friend after he mentions how sexually pent-up he is

In this essay I will-

[cto10121]

…There is a whole Wikipedia page about literary influences she has openly talked about.

[sincerelygarden]

Secrets accumulate atop my tongue, making beds in rooftop ridges and gap teeth.

After dinner I spit them out, all blue and crazed in a bathroom sink on another Sunday.

A girl prays to a god she feels unworthy to be loved by-

anything, or everything, or nothing at all

It is the wonder every September:

I feel her heart beat again.

My feet

thump,

thump,

thumping atop gravel.

"Listen," she says.

"Do you hear that?

Do you feel that?"

I try.

I stretch my arms down a drain,

frantically searching for the means to scream, to be anything, or everything, or nothing at all.

I tried honey—

scooping her out,

desperate and stretched,

goop thickening the walls,

syrup-like and sorry for making everything worse

much worse than ever before.

I give up.

I follow the ant trail to a sad pillow,

heating up the center where agony breaks free.

I follow the ant trail to therapy every Monday at 11, and say much yet nothing at all.

I follow the ant trail to the walls I wish I’d step outside of.

I try honey once more.

I shower it over myself in hopes the thing inside is able to thin it out in time,

like tea on an anxious Tuesday.

But my sisters are perhaps weary of what clings to their shoes,

of hands stuck upon doorknobs and kitchen sinks and Wednesday’s dinner engulfed in goop.

I follow it to a mirror.

I am frightened to believe what I have become.

I run to the supermarket and make a mountain of salt in aisle 24,

hoping to counteract the monstrous situation upon me,

smothered in the taste of all the things I needed to say,

in the sour shame coming back home all the same

My god!

on old clocks, windowsills, light switches, and more pillows, cold pillows on lone Thursdays,

Forget the mirrors!

I must not look at myself

slugging around and destroying a home I’ve made none but my own.

Oh but

She is in picture frames,

Lovely and light and easy to hold

behind glass, handled with care.

Pity is dreaded fear, a pungent knock I want to ignore every time.

I weep onto the smile, the what-was, a known.

I try once more,

stretching myself down the drain,

uncertainty a growing depression—a well-known symptom of a heart beating faintly on Friday, under layers of each day before.

She is somewhere in the hollow parts,

in the shadow dancing on the edge of what lives outside,

in the music sticking onto a seen but unexperienced.

Saturday, I am the soles of hurried feet,

thump, thump, thumping like knocking—a thunderous prayer possibly heard.

I follow it to my mother’s voice,

and my father’s wisdom,

and my sisters' cheers—

shoes kept neatly in spaces just for me.

Is she worthy of love?

My god!

Is she!?

To follow the ant trail to the old town lived once before-

She is there!

I feel her heart beat again,

trying to be

anything,

or everything,

or nothing at all.

My heart,

the center where agony breaks free!?

Do you hear it?

Do you feel it?

Thump,

thump,

thumping atop gravel.

An ant trail follows me down to

the places that consume me.

She tastes the sweet outpour of will,

or anything, or everything, or nothing at all.

A girl prays to god, on a Sunday-

Thump,

thump,

thumping..

Do you hear me?

[puppppppppy]

fake ep idea + doodles

[writeouswriter]

You know what, this "actually writing" thing is really fun, someone should tell my adhd that 'cause it still doesn't believe me.

[ilikekidsshows]

'Kim Possible' shows us that it is possible to create a badass female character without every one of her allies being useless in comparison. What an amazing recent discovery from writers from 2002, no wonder there's people in France that haven't heard about it yet, it's only been 22 years!

[see-arcane]

After reading and watching several adaptations, I have come to the conclusion that Quincey gets much more respect than Jonathan. Yes he appears much less, but he gets his heroic sacrifice when he does instead of getting bastardised. Three times I have seen him be the one who kills Dracula without Jonathan. In two of those he has the kukri.

Also idk if vampire Quincey is underappreciated, there is a novel all about him.

And in this one Jonathan is revealed to have been a cowardly cheater all along.

You know. Sometimes I think I might be going too overindulgent with my Harker Horrors and lavishing of attention on my favorite special little haunted gothic heroine lad.

And then I get lovely reminders like these that not only am I not being indulgent, I have to actively burn every daydream of an inhibition I have as a writer to unfuck 126 years' worth of doing the whole cast dirty, but Jonathan Harker the absolute worst.

[17panicattacksinatrenchcoat]

my drawing of the day (ignore how much my style fluctuates)

bonus: a semi-finished sketchbook page

bonus bonus: i added some ✨razzmatazz✨ to the cover

[paperw0rmz]

[lostdeviantartcollages]

95p - part one

[peapoart]

hello everyone! I'm setting up my journals for 2025 and I'm loving them so much! I'm making a travelers journal so ill be adding a sketchbook next ☆

[inkedwingss]

Just got an email from Junk: Literary & Arts Journal saying my submission was accepted!

This is my first time ever submitting my work and I am absolutely thrilled. Thank you all my angels for your likes and reblogs, for the support and all the kind words. This is a shared victory! And thank you, @leechs :)

[sincerelygarden]

I spilt coffee sorry!!

[dreamingstrawberries]

Currently having inspo but I'm so tired! But there are other times where I really want to do something but I have creative block lol

Share a creative project you're working on / want to work on in the comments!

[talshiargirlfriend]

“We can’t go in there like this. You need to look… sexy.”

That earned him an Inquisitive Eyebrow of Doom.

He huffed. “I mean, you’re always hot, but you need to look like you’re doing it intentionally. You’re not giving off the right vibe…“ he trailed off helplessly.

After a moment she asked, “Like this?”

Beyond a slight shift in her posture, he couldn’t possibly have said what changed, but he was suddenly incredibly aware of the shape of her. Those soulful eyes and sultry lips…

“How did you -- ?! Uh, yeah. Like that.”

“Let’s go.” She hinted at a smirk.