#daily speedwrite

[arrowflier]

I sat outside this morning and squirrel had the nerve to bark at me. So...

Territorial

It's getting a little late, the last rays of summer sun beating down heavy against the concrete of their patio.

"You ready to come in yet?" Mickey calls out from the doorway, half hidden by glass with cool air conditioning at his back.

Ian looks up from across the yard, squinting from under the wide brim of his ridiculous straw hat, nudging it up higher on his brow with one dirt-stained hand.

"You ready to come out?" he counters.

Mickey sighs. Opens the sliding door wider, steps out onto concrete that's warm and rough on his bare feet.

"Did that shit a long time ago, man," he says softer, toes curling into the grass at the edge of the patio.

Ian smiles. A soft thing, a happy thing. Happy like the spring in his step as he comes forward, meets Mickey nearer the house. Keeps moving, forcing Mickey back until he hits plastic siding, hot against his back through the thin shirt he stole from Ian's drawer that morning.

"You sure did," Ian agrees, voice low. "And it turned out pretty good."

"Only pretty good?" Mickey tilts his head up, blue eyes on green, and smooths his hands down Ian's sweaty, cotton-covered chest.

"I seem to remember somebody," he goes on, fingers working Ian's belt with purpose as the other man lips at his neck, "was pretty fucking happy to--"

Screech

Mickey's head flies back hard enough to hit the side of the house, cushioned only by the edge of Ian's hand where it had crept behind him.

"The fuck?" he blurts.

The sound comes again, close. He twists his head, looks--and the only thing that keeps him from fleeing is Ian's firm presence at his front.

Instead of running, he chooses to glare. Levels a livid look at the interloper, the creature that dared to interuppr his moment. A loud, vile, fucking disease-ridden...

Squirrel.

Screech

Right in his face, this time, the fucker.

Mickey clenches a fist in the back of Ian's shirt, braces himself, leans over.

"Relax, Mick," Ian murmurs, stroking his neck and shoulder like it will help. "It's just a squirrel, it's probably trying to protect its territory."

And Mickey does relax. Leans into his husband's grip, accepts a kiss to his cheek, then--

"WOOF," he barks at the tiny mammal that dated to threaten him. "Bow-fuckin-wow," he continues when it tenses but doesn't run, and that has it scampering up the nearby oak tree in a flash.

He feels breath against his skin, short little huffs in a familiar pattern.

"The hell are you laughin' at?" he demands, and Ian only holds him tighter.

"Did you just...bark?" Ian gasps out, all mirth, no restraint. "At a squirrel?"

"It barked first," Mickey argues. "And besides," he adds, giving up on Ian's belt to clasp his hands around that broad back. "It's our territory now, bitch."

"Our home," Ian corrects, smile giddy with laughter and love, and Mickey agrees by pulling him inside

#daily speedwrite #julnowrimo #fanfic #gallavich #silly #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #post canon

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

@arrowflier

To go with your daily speedwrite

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher

[littledrawsandwritesstuff]

I will take it more easy with writing over the next two weeks probably and maybe even after then, I am getting my booster soon and then finally can take care of stuff again intead of being forced to stay home or getting a qtip shoved into my brain.

#about my writing #I will still write don't worry #but I might not write daily #or only do short speedwrites

[nerice]

anyway ‘sup it’s 1:40am and im gonna write another 3k words before sleeping, fully aware i gotta get up early bc i have Appointments

#in my defense. i had appointments all over the place today too nd that's why i didn't get much writing done #and i get to write my fav oc at the end of this chapter so #POWER SPEEDWRITE INC #elia txts #at the very least i wanna hit 2k total bc that's the daily average i need to complete this draft rewrite by april

[arrow1366]

It’s a vice around my throat,

Keeps me up at night;

Your hand around my neck.

Squeezing the love out of me,

Every time you get on your knees.

Every meaningless kiss,

Every bite and touch.

How could you steal so much?

You move too fast,

And I’m always falling behind.

Throw me in a bed here or there,

It’s all the same.

It always ends the same.

-I could never Love You.

————————————————————————

It was two am when I realized I hated you. You gave me a chase that had no end in sight, as usual with this modern day dance we do, it’s all about sex. How long you can last before you crash. It starts the same, a “How you doing” “how was your day” but did you actually ever give a fuck? For as loud as I can scream, no one can hear when I say that I’m not just a body. If I wanted to fuck I would ask, but no, it’s always the same with men. Gay or straight, we all think with our dicks. God, I think about it and suddenly I’m white hot again, seething in a rage I don’t want to tame. I have a name. I am more than a body to be used and abused. If I could love a woman, I would. People take too much, they say what they need to say, take what they want, then leave. It’s simple. So simple, you love first then comes everything else. I’m tired of the one night stands, the fucked up hang ups on size, race preferences, or just a inability to see me more than a piece of meat. I hate this modern age, and the day I find the man of my dreams, I’ll know he’ll be the one. He won’t want to fuck me first, then ask my name later.

-I Am..

#lgbtq #gay man #original #free verse #one night stand #love #stream of thought #speedwriting #spilled ink #sorry not sorry #writing #poets of tumblr #night writing #poem #daily poem

[duckymcdoorknob]

Daily Speedwrite Pairings: Day 24

“That was amazing!” -ShinKami

“On your left!” Kaminari cried as he watched the TV screen intently.

“Ah! Thanks.” Shinso chimed as he shot a starbit at the threatening goomba.

Denki had invited Shinso to help him with the Perfect Run in Super Mario Galaxy. When the brainwashing hero noticed that Kaminari was dying quite frequently, they swapped positions. Currently, Shinso was sailing through the level as Mario, while Denki was content as the co-op Luma.

“We’re so close!” Denki chimed as the purple haired boy gracefully navigated the pull-star minefield.

Mario cheered as the two boys made it to the final stage of the course. Granted, it was the most difficult part of the course, but they both had such a sense of determination that they were ready for war.

“Kaminari! On the right!” Shinso made Mario backflip to avoid the threatening hammers thrown at him.

“On it!” Denki cooed as he shot a starbit at one, then froze the other.

The two boys focused intently on the TV. Denki’s tongue was stuck out of the side of his mouth very gently, Shinso’s glazed eyes were far from unfocused as they navigated the course.

“C’mon... c’mon...” Kaminari was chomping at the bit, smiling giddily as he clutched his wii remote.

“Focus, Kaminari.” Shinso chirped, hiding his own smile.

Boom, bam, bop! The two heroes had killed the three hammer throwers and shot into the launch star, which led them right to Rosalina’s garden terrace.

“YES! WOOOOOHOOOOO!” Denki cried as he jumped to his feet, “HAHAHA! YES!! FINALLY!”

“That was amazing.” Shinso admitted excitedly.

“It totally was. Sero’s gonna be thrilled that we finally beat this game.” Kaminari cooed, flopping back on the couch. “YES! SUCK ON THAT GOOMBA BITCHES!”

Then, the purple haired hero did something uncharacteristic, that both boys were shocked at. Shinso let out a long “pfft” and erupted into giggles. This, this was beautiful to Denki.

“Dude oh my gods your laugh is so amazing!” Kaminari gushed as he squished his own face with his palms.

“S-shut up.” Shinso replied bashfully, hiding his blushing face in his hands.

“No no! Bring it baaaack!” Denki whined, clinging onto the purple haired boy’s shirt.

“K-Kaminari!”

“Gimme your laaaaaaaugh!”

Denki lazily grazes his fingers along Shinso’s sides, hoping for an immediate reaction. To his dismay, there was none.

“Hah??” Okay plan B. He trailed his fingers up to Shinso’s ribs and started prodding there, but the brainwash hero wore a cocky look at the attempts.

“Oh c’mon! Everyone’s gotta be ticklish!” Denki said with a pout.

“Everyone?” Shinso replied evilly, inching toward the electric hero.

“Nonono! Don’t bring this onto me! I wanna hear you laugh! Shinso no! Don’t you daHAHAHAHRE!” Denki erupted into bright laughter as Shinso began to pinch at his hipbones.

“Oh? But you seem to be enjoying yourself already. I don’t think you quite want me to stop yet.” The purple haired boy hummed gently.

“C’MOHOHON! SHIHIHIHINSOHOHOHO!”

“Mmm. No. Just a little longer.” Shinso moved to squeeze gently at Kaminari’s thighs.

“Stahahahap thahahat! Nohohoho!”

Noted, his thighs aren’t a hot spot, but they did get the giggles out of Denki.

“Stop what, Kaminari?”

“Tihihihicklihihihing mehehehehehe!”

“Ohhhh. You want me to tickle you? Why didn’t you say so!?” Shinso chirped, moving to pinch at the electric hero’s knees.

“NGH- NONONONOHOHOHOHO! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHE KNEHEHEHEES!” Denki erupted into boisterous laughter once again.

“Ohoho! Did I find a special spot, Kaminari?” Shinso cooed as a smile started to find its way onto his face.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASEHEHE! SHIHIHIHINSOHOHOHO!”

“Alright alright.” The purple haired hero gave a gentle pat to Denki’s leg as he ceased his attack.

“Y-you’re mean!” Kaminari whined as he wobbly stood to his feet.

“All is fair in love and Mario.” Shinso replied with a goofy grin.

“That! I wanna see that more!” Denki chimed as he jumped onto Shinso, who was still sitting on the couch.

“GAH! W-wait! Can we talk about this??”

“Hmmm. No.” Denki mimicked Shinso’s words from earlier, before drilling into the boy’s hips.

Unable to control it, Shinso’s eyes widened as he burst into loud and bubbly laughter, “DEHEHEHENKIHIHI! BAHAHAHAD SPOHOHOT!”

“Figured” Kaminari chirped, “People always go for their own tickle spot when they tickle other people.”

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

#bnha #tickle #boku no hero academia #mha tickle #bnha tickle #my hero academia tickle #shinkami #kamishinsou #lee!kaminari #ler!shinsou #ticklish!kaminari #ticklish!denki #lee!denki #kaminari x Shinso #shinso x kaminari #shinso x denki #mha crack #mha fluff #anime #anime tickle fic #anime tickle

[tamiettitami]

Can you recommend some gallavich fanfic blogs? <3

i'm just gonna mention everyone i follow and their AO3 accounts, writing tags, etc., so hopefully you'll find someone you enjoy <3 also, if i couldn’t find your writing tag but you have one, feel free to reblog with it and i’ll add it to the list, and anyone who i didn’t add is also welcome to promote themselves in the comments/reblogs!

@iansfreckles - gallavichsecurity on AO3; *drabbles tag @whaticameherefor - whaticameherefor on AO3 @gardenerian - melwritesthings on AO3; tumblr writing tag @husbandian - teatrolley on AO3; fic stuff tag @grabmyboner - grabmyboner on AO3; my fic tag; social media AU tag @gallavich-x - eminawrites on AO3; fanfic tag @arrowflier - arrowflier on AO3; daily speedwrite tag @ianandmickeygallavich - calli_writes on AO3 @howlinchickhowl - howlinchickhowl on AO3; fic tag @southside-forever - southsideforever on AO3 @thisaintmacys-bitch - macymacymacy on AO3 @dreamylyfe-x - coldreign on AO3 @sweetcresta - sweetcresta on AO3; my writing tag @yeah-all-of-it - yeah_all_of_it on AO3

#karyssa answers #anonymous #also since you sent me this anon i'm gonna assume you know i write #but on the off chance that you don't #i'm tamitamietti on AO3 #and i don't even know what the fuck my writing tag #is #(i forgot a word look away) #i just kind of post shit #LMAO #i need to be more organised #it's bad #anyway #i love you all #and i hope it's okay that i tagged you #!!!!!

[irkenheretic]

(How I Learned) How To Read Irken: A Guide

(Pictured: Us....) (From @zimgay​ ‘s lovely animatic!)

Okay, I’m finally making this post. 

If you’ve been following me for a while, you might have caught on that I can read Irken. When I started, I was completely confused over wether or not I was teaching myself correctly, how long it’d take, et cetera. But I’ve finally hashed it out for myself, and I thought:

Why not make a guide for anyone else who wants to learn but has no idea where to start? 

So that’s what I’m doing. Some disclaimers, though:

- This is what worked for me. It may or may not work for you, I’m not sure. I think it’s a pretty good method, though.

- Reading Irken and Writing Irken are two different skillsets. I’m gonna show you how to do both, but don’t worry if you’re better at one than the other. 

- This will probably take a while of daily (or near-daily) practice to learn. It’s not impossible, it’s not super challenging, but it’s not super easy, especially if you have memory problems like I do. (For context: I started in September. But I also have a really shitty memory so, like. It might take less time for you.)

Okay! Let’s do this!

First off, you’d probably do well downloading the Irken font for practice purposes. Messing around with it and typing in it is fun, and can help!

You’ll also need a notebook. It’s not required, but having it all in one place is super convenient. (And, if it’s tiny enough, you can carry it around whenever, and also have it on hand to whip out at cons.)

The first thing I did was write each individual letter over and over and over again. This is what’s at the start of my notebook, and writing the letters over and over helped me remember which were which. I also had to focus pretty hard on what letter this actually was, this is tedious as hell but it’s not something you can do mindlessly.

(Pictured: Normal levels of interest in a show.)

This is what my notebook looks like. Don’t worry about those simplified versions of the letters yet, but you’re gonna wanna leave room for them. Don’t worry about learning simplified/handwritten until later, it helps recognition if you really have to focus on actually drawing the letters, at first.

(And yes, I know my pen is really smudgy. And that my H’s suck.)

After this, three letter words are your friend. Pick just, common three letter words you know, and write them down a lot. I have just, the Irken for “THE” written in the margins of my class notebooks a TON. Once you feel like you can remember that word well, go onto another 3 letter word with a different set of letters. Recognition = good, so pick something you like, use all the time. 

While I was doing this, I tried to string together Irken letters I knew into like, coherent phrases. I was very bad at this at first. Acronyms are your friend here, lmao. (I don’t think I can count the number of times I’ve written ‘u r a qt pie’ in my notebooks.) It doesn’t matter what you write, just that it makes coherent sense. 

There are gonna be some uncommon letters that are gonna be hard to practice, like W and Z, off the top of my head. For Z, that was easy. I just wrote ZIM over and over and over. For W... I used UWU. You laugh now, but the absurdity of it cements that I will always recognize those two letters. 

Four letter words are also good. (Please, absolutely write “FUCK” over and over in order to remember letters. I encourage it.)

There is also the absolute cuntwaffles. Y’know how in English, b, p, d, g, all look kinda the same? Yeah, Irken has that too. 

(Pictured: Head hurting juice.)

The I and Z don’t look that similar now, but good luck without a translation guide. By this point, you should have memorized a good chunk of the Irken alphabet, and be able to recognize some others when you see them. If you’ve been writing common three- or four-letter words, it’s likely you’ve been using letters very common in the English language. Which brings us to our next stage, and the actual fun part: 

READING! 

You’re gonna want a translation guide on hand in these early stages, you will need it. The main goal of this stage is to read anything in Irken you can get your hands on- but start small! Fanart with Irken in it was a godsend to me. It’s not that long, so it’s not overwhelming. I did need to look up some letters at the beginning, and I read really slowly, but that’ll change quickly if you keep up with it! The specific fanarts I used are:

@inimoose​ ‘s The Last Irken comic, specifically chapter one: part one, and chapter two: part two have a lot of Irken. But I’d recommend reading the whole comic; it’s good!

@paketdimensioncomic​ ‘s page of lore for their comic! Spoilers, though. Again, I’d recommend reading through the whole comic, because it’s just that good. 

@xryn-art​ ‘s Linguistic Au’s first comic has a good chunk of Irken! The other comics do have some, but it’s all translated. Still good practice, though, if you wanna... read them......... ;) ;) ;) 

Yes, this segment was partially a way for me to plug my favorite fan-artists, (or at least the ones that use Irken,) sue me. It’s my guide and I make the rules here.

(I am very sorry if I bothered any of you by @’ing you.)

But just some sources isn’t enough, so I introduce you to browser fonts. And changing yours to Irken. 

It will not effect everything in your browser, and it can be toggled on and off, so don’t worry. If you really want, you can download a separate browser to change the font of, and leave your normal one be. It’d be convenient if you could, since having your browser font be Irken is inconvenient if you need to use Wikipedia, like, ever. 

Here’s a guide for that, for Chrome, Firefox, Opera, and Internet Explorer for some reason. You’ll see four options to change, I just changed all of them. Not every page is going to have Irken on it, though. For me, Wikipedia is all in Irken, and so is TV Tropes. And some Tumblr blogs (PAKet Dimension’s is one, just in case you need a reason to go back there ;)) But it might be different for you. 

Whatever it is, now you have a nice way to practice. I read Wikipedia articles on stuff I already knew about (so I wasn’t completely lost and could figure out what letters I didn’t know were from context clues,) but not a page I’ve read before in recent memory- you might just be recalling what the page said, instead of actually reading it.

And about the absolute cuntwaffle letters: yes, this will help you in recognizing which are which. Seeing the letters in context is always going to be much more helpful than just, a bunch of meaningless squiggles floating in the void.

At this point, I personally am much better at reading than writing Irken. It’s one thing to know a letter when you see it, and another to recall it and write it down from memory. Right now, I’m trying to write song lyrics and dumb little phrases in Irken, to improve my writing skills. Again, nothing too long, don’t overwhelm yourself. This sounds stupid, but Vines are good. When I don’t remember a letter, I just leave it blank and look it up after I’m done. 

Another thing that helps is having a friend to practice with, or someone to just give you Irken phrases for you to translate. 

Once you’re around this stage, you can try to learn simplified/handwritten Irken. You can also try to learn it before this, I started it around when I started reading fanart for practice, it’s up to you. This guide is a good starting point, but you don’t have to follow it exactly. This is your handwriting, do what feels natural for you!

(Also, don’t even worry about speedwrite Irken. That has no place in this holy land and frankly I am scared of it.)

And that’s... pretty much it! Most of the process is just... practicing a lot. 

If this post does well, I might make a server for people who wanna learn Irken to practice together and stuff. It all depends if anyone even wants to learn Irken. 

EDIT: Well, guess what I ended up making just the next day. Here’s the post for the server, and please read the joining rules.

Also, if you wanna learn Irken numbers, here you go. But start with letters first, worry about numbers later. These are never used, aren’t even in the Irken font, and three of them look a lot like those cuntwaffle Irken letters. 

Anyway I just really hope this guide helps someone out. If you do use it, tell me! And have fun learning Irken!! It really is just, a blast to do honestly.

#invader zim #invader zim irken #zadr #(for the animatic and one of the comics) #HHHHHUUUUUU IM NERVOUS TO POST THIS #ok. ok ok ok ok ok here goes. h. #live from conventia #if this is a godsend for even one (1) guy with a hyperfixation then i have done my job well

[arrowflier]

Unpopular opinion after a very sleepless night: civilians should be not be allowed within ten feet of fireworks ever.  EVER.

It’s Not Even the 4th Yet You Fuckers

It’s been a rough day.  They woke up too early because the damn birds were so loud—they live in a place with songbirds now, how the fuck did that happen—and the pilot light went out on the gas stove Ian was so proud of owning in the middle of trying to make breakfast.  It took so long to get it going again that Ian didn’t even have time to shower before running off to his volunteer shift at the hospital, which meant Mickey’s morning routine of interrupting said shower was ruined, too.  Then Ian was late coming home after some all-hands emergency and it was all Mickey could do to get his husband washed, fed, and put to bed.

That’s where Ian is now.  Head pressed into the pillow on the wrong side of the mattress, mouth open as he breathes, lashes fluttering as REM sleep drags him under.  Mickey watches from the armchair in the corner, pajama-clad legs tucked up underneath.  There’s something special about being awake when Ian isn’t; being the one to watch, to protect.

And despite the crazy day, he’s content.  He’s got his home, he’s got his husband, and he’s got a million days ahead of him to—

*Boom*

To murder their new fucking neighbors.

He’s out of the chair and down the stairs before Ian can so much as twitch.  This is already the third damn night they’ve pulled this shit, and while it might have been fun the first time—peering out their bedroom window to sneak looks at fireworks they don’t have to pay for—it’s getting old real fast.  It’s not even the fourth yet, for fuck’s sake.

Another boom rattles the house as Mickey trips over the landing, barrels into the front door.  He fumbles with the lock while the continuous hiss of sparklers gets louder, closer, and slams it open with a grunt.

“Hey!” he shouts once it’s open, leaving the door gaping behind him as he stomps across their porch in bare feet.  “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

No response.  There’s a group of teenagers across the street, in pastel polo shirts and fucking khaki shorts, but they don’t look up from the mass of boxes they’re rooting through.

And hey, Mickey gets it.  He was a kid, once.  He stole more fireworks than he could count, set them off in fields and under bridges and over the river without a second thought.

Maybe if these kids reminded him of himself even a bit, maybe if they looked like making shit explode was the only thing holding them together, he would have had some sympathy.  

*Boom*

The next one sounded more like gunfire than a firework, and no.  He probably wouldn’t have.

“I’m talking to you!” he shouts, striding forward into the street without bothering to look.  “You tryin’ to get somebody killed out here?”

“Relax, grandpa,” one of the teens says, bored, not even looking at him.  “Fireworks never killed anybody.”

“They’re about to kill you,” Mickey returns, glowering.  “Cause if you wake up my husband, I’m gonna shove the next one so far up your ass your mouth is gonna shoot sparks.”

“Uh huh,” another guy says mockingly.  “I’ve met your husband, man,” he adds, “and there’s no fucking way he’d be okay with the way you’re—”

“Mickey?”

Mickey stiffens.  Glares one more time at the asshole that just spoke, who has a shit-eating grin on his face like he knows what’s coming next.  Then he looks up to where Ian is peering through their bedroom window, eyes squinted and hair tussled.

“Go back to bed, Ian,” he calls back.  “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Mickey,” Ian says disapprovingly, voice carrying easily.  “What did I tell you about yelling at the neighborhood kids?”

Someone titters behind Mickey, and he fights not to roll his eyes.  Instead, he steps to the side, providing a clear view from the window to the mess of people and firework debris on the corner.

Ian leans forward, only the window screen keeping his head inside as he strains his eyes.

“Those aren’t kids,” he corrects himself after getting a good look.

“Nope,” Mickey agrees.

“Oh.”  Ian appears to think, one hand scratching through hair bright enough that Mickey can see it even from across the street.  “Okay then.”  He turns from the window, then returns a moment later.

“Bring me up some tea when you’re done?”

“Sure thing babe,” Mickey promises.  “You want a cinnamon stick?  Some honey?”

“No, just you,” Ian returns.  “Don’t be too long.”

He turns away from the window, and Mickey turns back to the gaggle of teenage boys watching with open mouths.

“You heard the man,” he says with a wicked grin, cracking his knuckles.  “Let’s make this fast.”

#daily speedwrite #in which I live vicariously through Mickey #fanfic #gallavich #silly #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #julnowrimo

[sometimesrosy]

Hi, Rosy!

I know this is more a random fact, but I saw your anon ask about From Blood and Ash which is by one of my fave authors, Jennifer Lynn Armentrout. She IS a speed writer, but out of necessity as she has a degenerative disease that is slowly making her go blind, and she wants to get out as many books as she can before she looses her vision. From her website bio:

“In early 2015, Jennifer was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a group of rare genetic disorders that involve a breakdown and death of cells in the retina, eventually resulting in loss of vision, among other complications. Due to this diagnosis, educating people on the varying degrees of blindness has become of passion of hers, right alongside writing, which she plans to do as long as she can.”

Figured that might help your asker a bit too. JLL is writing that fast because she’s in a race against her health. They’re absolutely fine if they don’t write that fast!

Wow. You know, I read that in my google search, but didn't make the connection.

That is a total nightmare. As an artist and writer, I would hate to lose my vision. I mean, it's already going. I've become very far sighted in the last ten years in addition to my slightly near sighted as usual. Which means near is very fuzzy and far is kinda fuzzy. And it does seem to be speeding up, so you know, I never even realized that was something I should be worried about.

Although I did have a professor in college who was legally blind and whose vision was degenerating, and that didn't mean he couldn't write. He, however, uses someone to type for him, I think. So, while I understand the urge to write all her stories as fast as possible (which I respect a lot, actually) and it probably gives her a sense of urgency that most of us don't have-- she's writing against a ticking clock-- she will probably be able to find some accommodations to keep writing. Not that I'm saying what she SHOULD do, just imagining myself in her situation. (actually starting to worry about it, not with vision, but with my hands [I probably have the beginning stage of rheumatoid arthritis, yay auto immune disease.]) I wonder how well voice to text programs work.

Well, I'm sorry I said she might have hired a ghost writer. Now I feel bad. Although I tend to think the people who DO have ghostwriters speedwriting for them are self publishers. Not sure a trad publisher would be okay with that? I mean I KNOW people are doing that, because I'm one of the ghostwriters who is hired to do it. I just don't know who they are. And the people who ghostwrite are people who have a lot of facility and ease with words, because you simply can't write a publishable story that fast unless you do, never mind the drafting process or narrative depth or subtext or poetic language.

But you're right, nonny. The OP of that ask shouldn't worry about not writing that fast. No one HAS to write that fast unless something is compelling them. Like a degenerative disorder, or a deadline or empty pockets and low $/word, or a compulsion.

And I still want to emphasize how LONG and how much practice and learning it takes to learn how to write that fast. If you WANT to write that fast, start giving yourself a daily word count goal. Write every day. Learn your process. Get comfortable with writing stream of consciousness. Honestly also switch to outlining if you're a pantser. Because while it's possible to WRITE fast from the seat of your pants without an outline, it's pretty hard to keep a story on track, and get all that info into the story and tie it up together, because writing so fast means you have less time with each element of the story, and, for me at least, those elements slip out of my short term memory and I don't remember what I wrote. So I have to write it all down in my outline.

Ahh. I'm writing with my short term memory. THAT'S why all my ghostwritten stories are no longer with me, unlike my original fiction, which I continue to think about, even if I wrote it years ago.

I was thinking about making a class, or maybe some posts first, about how to speed write/power write. Is that actually something people want to learn?

#writeblr #power writing #speed writing #disability awareness #outlining #rosy writes #writers #writing process #ghostwriting

[princess-of-prose]

My Plans for NaNoWriMo!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Pretentious Bastards and Bitches, Greetings!

As all us writers know, NaNoWriMo (short for National Novel Writing Month) is right around the corner! And that's always exciting!

Even more so for me, as this is my first rodeo!

But, if you've read my last post, you will know I have quite a few other things on my hands that aren't writing. So, logically, I cannot commit to 1,667 words a day. And that's entirely fine. Because I'm not working towards the end result of 50k words; I'm working towards writing every day for at least the month of November, if not longer.

What's my daily goal, then?

Well, if you pay attention to my Instagram stories, you know I make slow progress in the sense of word count. After all, I edit as I go (It makes the actual editing run, once the chapter is done, much quicker, but it also slows me down). And then there's dialogue, which I struggle with way too often. So, I've picked myself a goal that I doubt would be a hindrance to my other activities: 15 mins of speedwriting.

After all, I can always spare 15 minutes of my time to turn on some music and jot down a handful of words. When I know where I'm going with it, there's no doubt I might make 200, maybe even 300 words! And when I don't, then 50 words are still better than nothing.

Obviously, these speedwriting sessions will run by different rules than normal: After all, I can't stop to look up a word, or rephrase a half-baked sentence. But that doesn't pose a problem as is: Whenever I stumble across something that just isn't satisfactory, I write that word, phrase or passage in light green! That way, I know to come back later. I also do that with descriptions or dialogue I don't feel like fleshing out at the moment.

As I stand now, the contents of chapter 1 of TVOS are all noted down, though some still in need of polishing. Therefore, the speedwriting will start at the very beginning of chapter 2!

(But don't worry, the remainders of ch1 will be given proper care and attention during my normal writing sessions: Monday & Wednesday from 9 a.m. to 10:30 a.m., Saturday from 6 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. and Sunday from 12:30 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. as well as whenever I have time and energy.)

I, for one, am very excited to finally participate in NaNoWriMo, albeit in my own way, and I hope that you will continue supporting me on the way!

Love,

A.M.S.<3

#writers #writers on tumblr #literature #nanowrimo

[williamcsanchez]

Affiliate Webinar: Pitman Shorthand Workshop

Do you have to take minutes of meetings, jot down telephone messages, write long lists of tasks from your manager, and remember those on-the-fly comments? Can you do it quickly? So many of us take notes and yet have no structure or system for writing them.

In recent years, there has been a myth that shorthand is no longer required for most administrative professionals in this digital world. But as most admins know, shorthand is still a sought-after skill.

The savviest administrative professional knows that each word is important. And learning shorthand is the perfect way to ensure you never miss anything.

Join Business Management Daily for this webinar and discover how to improve your efficiency, add to your skills and career development, and avoid the stress of trying to take notes with only longhand techniques.

Topic: Pitman Shorthand Workshop

Presenter: Heather Baker, Creator of the BakerWrite Speedwriting System

Date: Thursday, January 10, 2019

Time: 1 p.m. EST, 12 p.m. CST, 10 a.m. PST

During this webinar, you will have the opportunity to understand the Pitman system, including:

The principles of Pitman shorthand

Tips on taking notes

Taking dictation

Personal action plan and questions

Don’t wait another minute! If you find minute-taking and note-taking frustrating and find it hard to keep up, this webinar is the one for you. You’ll come away ready to start taking more effective notes and have an action plan to ensure you can continue to improve. Anyone, in any role, who takes notes or needs to write quickly should attend this session. Register now!

from All Things Admin http://bit.ly/2R681qt

[arrow1366]

I feel small in large places,

A cell among mountains.

-Graduation Day.

#lgbtq #original #poem #daily poetry #free verse #stream of thought #writing #speedwriting #poets of tumblr

[duckymcdoorknob]

@kwaiibb I HOPE YOU LOVE IT

Daily Speedwrite Pairings: Day 26

“I got it! I got it!... I don’t got it!!” -TodoSero

“No! More to the right!” Shoto barked as Sero lined up his character’s mini golf putter.

“Relax ’Roki! I’ve got it!” Sero replied with a smile, taking a shot toward the hole.

The ball whizzed past the hole, bounced up on the grass behind it, and plopped into the retention pond in front of the hole.

Sero turned behind him to see a frustrated Todoroki pinching his nose.

“I... I don’t got it.” He replied sheepishly.

“Serooooooo.” Todoroki whined as he threw his arms up in exaggeration, “Now what do we do? Mr. Aizawa only gave us time for one round.”

“Eri has a-“

“We are not using Eri’s quirk for our own desires.”

“Shoto! You’re not thinking fourth dimensionally!” Hanta whined.

“What does that even mean?” Shoto replied in confusion.

“It means you need to get a new perspective!” Sero chirped as he gripped his buddy’s ankles, hoisting him up in the air.

The room was filled with giggles from both parties. The desperate ones came from Todoroki, and amused ones from Sero. “Get a new perspective, bro!”

“Sero! Put me down!” The latter cried as he felt his sweater ride upward.

“Oho! What’s this?!” Hanta said with a pang of mischief. He locked Shoto’s ankle under his arm, and reached his hand down toward the trapped boy’s stomach.

“Don’t touch me! Nonono! Sero don’t you dahahahare!”

Sero, who had already begun to spider his fingers on Todoroki’s stomach, only smiled evilly. “I don’t know what you mean? I’m not touching you.”

“Yohohohou ahahaharehehe!” Shoto cried as he leaned upward toward his friend.

“I am? Oh, well that’s new information.” Sero changed his spidering to sporadic pinching around the boy’s belly button.

“Wow I’m barely even touching you and look how much you’re laughing.” Sero stated casually, causing the bi-colored boy to flush, “Is it me? You must think I’m real funny lookin’ huh?”

“Nohohoho! Yohohourehehe tihihicklihihing mehehe!”

“Oh really?” The tape hero asked in faux confusion, “Does it tickle when I do this?”

Sero dipped his finger into Shoto’s belly button and wriggled it, causing the half-and-half hero to snort and cover his face in embarrassment.

“Oh dude that’s amazing! Do it again!”

It’s not like he could control it...

But regardless, and against his will, Todoroki found himself snorting as Sero abused his poor belly button.

“OKHAHAHAHAY! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! STAHAHAHAPPIT!”

“Aw but I’m having soooo much fun.” Sero whined, lifting his attack with a pat to the boy’s stomach.

“You- you’re y-“

“Spit it out, man!”

“I-I’m trying asshole!”

Hanta took a minute to process. Did Shoto just curse, and at him?

“Woah there boss man! We don’t use those kinds of profanities in these dorms!” The tape hero chirped, locking the bi-colored hero’s other ankle.

“I don’t care! You are an asshole!”

“Gasp! Again! Rule breakers are always punished dude, you should know that.” Sero state’s casually.

Todoroki’s eyes widened and he screeched as he suddenly felt both of his feet being attacked.

“WAAAA! WAHAHAHAIHIHIHIT! MSAHAHAHAHARRY!”

“Oh you’ll for sure be sorry when I’m through with you, asshole.”

Shoto and his big mouth...

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

#mha #tickle #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha tickle #bnha tickle #my hero tickle #my hero academia tickle #my hero academia tickle fic #lee!todoroki #ler!sero #ticklish!todoroki #hanta sero #sero hanta #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #mha sero #mha todoroki #mha crack #mha fluff #mha memes #anime #anime tickle #anime tickle fic

[arrowflier]

My water heater is broken, and I had my first hot shower in two weeks visiting my parents this weekend.  It made me think of this.

Cleansed

Mickey had never really thought that the Gallagher bathroom was anything special.  A spit-splattered mirror, cracked tiles, and a toilet that wouldn’t flush unless you jiggled the handle—even he’d grown up with that much.

But right now, standing naked in the center of it as steam starts to fill the room, listening to the soft splash of water on over-scrubbed porcelain and the quiet rattle of metal rings as he pulls back the curtain, he thinks it might be the best fucking bathroom he’s ever seen.

Water is already filling the bottom of the tub, pouring out faster than it can drain through old, clogged pipes.  But it’s warm when Mickey steps in, as it swirls around his aching feet, and if he closes his eyes he thinks it might feel like the ocean had back in Mexico.

He doesn’t, though.  He keeps them open.  

Open, so he can see where he is.  Not for safety, but to make sure it stays real.  He tugs the curtain closed, a flimsy thing covered in childish patterns that barely even keeps the water inside, and feels more secure than he ever had with three guards watching and a wall at his back.

The stream from the shower head is weak.  He ducks his head into the spray, lets it trickle down over him like rain.  Light, and soft, and welcome, and so unlike the hose-like cleaning he’s come to expect that his shoulders relax despite the lack of pressure.

His eyes do close then, despite himself.  Just for a moment, one single blissful second when nothing else exists.  Then there’s a voice in the hallway, someone walking, and they’re open again in an instant.

But he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t need to.

He does, however, need to get clean.  Needs to wash of the stench of prison, the remnants of the past.  The bits of roadside gravel still stuck in the scrapes on his hands.

And his options seem extensive, all of a sudden, as he eyes the brightly colored bottles that line the edge of the tub.  So much more than the shared bar of soap he’d been using for months.  There’s something pink and flowery, the label faded from overuse; an organic wash for “baby-soft skin” that looks like something out of a magazine ad; a half-used bottle of blue dishsoap with suds running down the sides; a bar of Irish Spring that’s been used down to the last misshapen sliver and then stacked on top of a new one rather than wasted.

Mickey reaches out.  Hesitates with his hand over the soap he knows is Ian’s, before it veers left.  He pours out a healthy dollop of creamy organic bullshit onto a faded washcloth—he never thought he’d be so glad to see a rag that hadn’t been bleached beyond the very concept of color—and works it into a lather.

Even taking his time, it goes quickly.  He’s too used to rushing, too used to making the most of every second.  But the wash feels good on his skin, the grime rinsing off with the soap to stain the water around his feet like sand, and eventually even the puddle he stands in is clear again.

He swipes the washcloth once more over his chest, eyes scanning lazily over a bottle of shampoo, a child’s chipped bath toy, and woman’s razor, a worn loofah, a—

His eyes go back to the razor, washcloth slowing.  Suds cling to the hair on his chest, clean but mussed.  Dark over the ink he knows is there, no matter how many times he thought it might be better to forget.  Ink that’s more part of him than parts of his own body.  Ink that he trapped there under his skin and never let free.

He grabs the razor, and a can of girly shaving gel.  

-

The water has been running a long time.  It’s fine, Ian told him to take as long as he likes.  Is glad that he’s taken him up on it, that he’s comfortable enough to do so in a house that’s apparently full of strangers.

But he knows the hot water will run out soon, and he doesn’t want Mickey to get cold.  So he grabs a change of clothes, a fresh towel, and sneaks through the door as quietly as he can to leave them.

“Who’s there?” Mickey calls out anyway as Ian sets the load carefully on the closed lid of the toilet.  A dark head pops out from behind the curtain, rosy-cheeked from the heat, blue eyes narrowed under wet lashes.

“Ian?” Mickey asks.  “What’re you—“

“Sorry,” Ian rushes to apologize, backing up with both hands out.  “Not trying to interrupt, I know what a big deal that first shower is when you get out.”  He chuckles a little, and adds, “First time in a year without keeping your back to the wall, it’s kind of weird, right?”

“Ian,” Mickey says again, softer.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” Ian rambles.  “Let you have some time alone for once.  And if you need anything just let me—“

He tries to back out the door.  But Mickey steps one foot out of the tub, reaches out with a dripping arm to grab Ian’s wrist.

Ian stares at the point of connection.  Pink skin on pale, water beading along the seam.  Mickey’s hand slips, slides away, and Ian clasps his own tight just in time to catch the very tips of his fingers.

Mickey tugs them back.  Slowly, gently.  Bringing Ian with him through that tenuous connection.

“Come on,” he murmurs, stepping back into the standing water at the bottom of the tub.  

Ian follows mindlessly.  Steps in without even taking off his socks, his sweats, his shirt.  Lets Mickey move his hand up to a broad shoulder, lets it slide down when he lets go.  Settles it over the familiar shape of his own name standing out proudly on suddenly smooth skin.

Mickey reaches up, rests a hand over Ian’s on his chest.  Then he turns around.

“Could use some help with my back,” he says quietly, and Ian swallows back a million words.  A million little phrases to show that he gets it, that he knows what that means.

Instead, he takes hold of the bottle Mickey hands him—the expensive stuff he’d bought on a whim when he got out, eager for all things good until the best came back to him—and gets to work.

#daily speedwrite #julnowrimo #fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #post prison #soft

[arrowflier]

What He Needs

On Saturday, Ian wakes up naturally for the first time all week. He smiles into the sunlight on his face, breathes in the scent of the pillow, and stretches out an arm to curl around his husband's waist.

It lands heavy on the mattress, nothing there to hold.

"Mickey?" he mumbles, eyes still closed, hand patting at the space where a body should be.

The only response is the coolness of the sheets.

Ian blinks his eyes open, confirms what he already knows. Rolls over with a groan to glance at the clock.

9:54, it reads in red, and no wonder he's alone in bed. They'd promised Debbie that they'd meet her by eight to drive Franny to swim lessons, and it's late enough now that they could have been there and back.

Ian sits up, rubbing his eyes. He'd been so out of last night after a long week that he'd passed out by ten, and Mickey must have let him sleep in. Taken care of things on his own--because of course he wouldn't leave his niece hanging--and made himself scarce so Ian could rest.

And honestly, he can't decide how to feel about it. Annoyed that he missed out on seeing his family. Sad that he needed to, and Mickey knew it. Disappointed that he isn't even here now to talk to, probably still out like the early birds Ian can hear through the--

"God-fucking-dammit!"

The shout cuts over the birdsong, a rough dichotomy that has Ian halfway to his feet and grinning before he even realizes.

Found him. And by the time Ian gets pants on, makes his way to the back door to see Mickey standing out in the garden struggling to tip a twenty pound bag of seed into the bird feeder, all he can feel is love.

"You know the squirrels eat most if that," Ian says, closing the door behind him. He huffs when Mickey startles, reaches out to steady the bag he holds.

"Thought you weren't a fan of them," he adds as they pour the seed together.

Mickey looks at him without turning, easing the bag back upright.

"I'm not."

Ian takes his hands away, watches Mickey set the bag down to seal it shut.

"Yet you won't let me get a squirrel-proof feeder."

Mickey's fingers still on plastic, then continue.

"They need to eat," he says with a shrug, a kind of carelessness Ian knows well. "Can't be mad at that."

You need to sleep, Ian, he'd said the night before when Ian asked if he'd mind if he went to bed early. Can't be mad at that.

"Besides," Mickey goes on, standing up to face Ian with a squirmed brow, "the birds like the feeder we got.  There's this one red one--"

Ian groans.

"Not the cardinal again."

"Yeah," Mickey says, pointing at him. "That one. Looks just like you."

"Does not," Ian argues, but Mickey just snickers.

They're quiet for a moment while Mickey cleans up, hoisting the bag of seed and carrying it back to the patio. Ian watches him stash it, watches him rub the back of his neck after, sore from the work he's done. Wishes he had been more help.

"Sorry I slept so long," he offers softly.

Mickey glances back, startled, but his face smooths out fast.

"You need to sleep, man," he says plainly. Comes closer, takes Ian's hand. "Can't be mad at that."

So many people could, Ian thinks. So many people have.

He doesn't say it. Just squeezes Mickey's hand instead, and opens the door for them both.

"Right now, I need something else."

#apparently I'm on a squirrel kick haha #internet still spotty so I typed on my phone just in case😂 #I'll start crossposting to ao3 again once it starts behaving #daily speedwrite #julnowrimo #fanfic #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher