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#my novel writing
neet-elite · 8 days
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not me shipping me and my partners wow characters more than they do...
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writersshitpost · 5 months
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xisadorapurlowx · 5 months
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lucidloving · 3 months
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R.M. Rilke, The Man Watching // Euripides, An Oresteia (trans. Anne Carson) // Oscar Wilde // Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life // @bitsbyt3s // Mary MacLane, "January 20", The Story of Mary MacLane // Trista Mateer // see 4 // @kafk-a // Olivia Laing, "Loneliness: coping with the gap where friends used to be"
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lostlegendaerie · 10 months
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there's something deeply gutting about being a writer right now. watching studio execs brag about starving people like you out of your very house just to not pay you anything above the pennies you currently make. watching some people cheer over AO3 being targeted for a DDOS attack. the complete lack of profitability of writing commissions or writing in general in transformative spaces, especially in contrast to fanart. the pivot of so many social media platforms to be video and image based near-exclusively.
I don't know. it just makes me sad to know that the hobby that kept me alive while growing up homeschooled with dial-up internet and local antenna TV... is only ever gonna be a side job with minimal engagement. I know this site is good about supporting libraries and the concept of books but, do me a favor? Reach out to a writer friend you know. Leave a comment on your last five read stories on your favorite website.
Tell us you care.
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catfayssoux · 13 days
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WHO NEEDS MIDDLE BITS WHEN YOU CAN HAVE ✨ 𝒔 𝒄 𝒆 𝒏 𝒆 𝒔 ✨
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"Oh being a writer must be so cool and artistic"
No being a writer is frantically googling shit like this at 1 am on a work night
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calethescammer · 5 months
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One of my favourite brain rotting tcf ideas is Cale having some tremor disorder. Basically, he has hands that randomly tremble without any reason.
It may be genetic to him, or he developed it as Cale because of not eating his meals properly and inevitably developing some vitamin deficiency.
Now comes the best part.
Imagine Cale, perhaps in some really gruesome battle, with blood of enemies and allies mixed around him. Imagine his family seeing Cale's stoic face, wondering how a person so young can be so brave, and then they see his hands shaking under his raven coat, even as they're curled tightly into a fist.
Imagine Cale looking at Jour's portrait, admiring her beauty and her alike face with his own. But then his family sees him, his gaze fixated on his mother's image and his hands trembling slightly.
Imagine him, standing at the forefront of some battle with his shields raised, with his hands trembling uncontrollably, even though he is not straining himself. The people protected under him can only tear up at his selflessness.
Imagine Cale after attacking the enemies with a wave of firebolts, but his hands again started shaking badly, even if he has them covered under his sleeves. His family misunderstands that as Cale hiding his pain.
Imagine Cale, resting on a couch after some battle, and when Raon, On and Hong excitedly climb upon his lap, he only smiles slightly and pats them with his trembling hands. The kids then worriedly inform Ron of this and Cale recieves sweet lemon tea for a whole week.
Imagine Cale talking about territory matters with Alberu, and Alberu is once again amazed by his dongsaeng's witty and almost experienced approaches to problems like war. But then he sees Cale's hands shaking while holding the tea cup, and he realises how absolutely not normal it is to not be nervous in such a situation. (Alberu later pledges to himself to give Cale the slacker life he always wished for.)
Just imagine Cale in any situation with trembling hands and it literally creates the most hilarious misunderstandings with some really wonderful angst.
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annetilney · 2 years
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Scribbles Saturday #11 (2022)
Hello gentlepersons!
Every Saturday, I post an excerpt from one of my WIP (work in progress)
Below is an excerpt from chapter 2 of Dare Not Confess (Draft#1):
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My stomach lurched. For I waited with a morbid feeling of suspense. Far down the road, resided a farmhouse. A dog howled. Then one dog after another joined in the hellish choir.
The sound resounded. It seemed like all the dogs in the country howled in unison. The first howl caused the horses to rear. Yet when the driver spoke to them soothingly and they calmed down. But the horses still quivered.
Taglist (please ask to be added or removed): @bardic-tales @houndmouthed @writinginslowmotion @diemohnblume
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cjjferk · 1 month
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intermundia · 9 months
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today on "absolutely unhinged things for stover to put on paper and lucas to approve," the depiction of obi-wan's self-aware attachment to anakin here, how ready he'd be to kill yoda for the greater good, and how he'd let yoda kill him too, but anakin is the exception to their entire order and to obi-wan's moral judgment.
all three of them here, arguably the three most important jedi in the galaxy, they all know with wariness that anakin, the chosen one, has failed to grasp the central tenet of their code, and they don't know what to do about it. obi-wan thinks he failed him, failed to teach him; he knows anakin failed to learn, failed to accept it, how he'd would never let a friend go.
obi-wan here offers keen, intimate analysis of anakin's inner workings, shining a light on who darth vader really is in his heart, his loyalty beyond any moral or ethical bounds. obi-wan is painfully aware of how he is complicit in fostering this inappropriate attachment, only encouraging anakin's behavior. we see why he apologized in the kenobi show, how he was already sorry.
tbh this page changed me—my understanding of the characters, and my appreciation of the entire tragedy, like.. look how anakin has compromised obi-wan, and look at how much obi-wan loves him anyway. look at how the heart of this incipient monster is described with tender, ruthless clarity by the one who knows it best... on the next page obi-wan's literally crying about what they've done... i'm astrally projecting into the sun
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cuubism · 2 months
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i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is
cw injury, referenced abusive relationships
--
Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.
Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.
But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.
"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."
Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.
"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."
Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.
"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.
"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.
Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"
Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.
He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"
Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.
"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.
"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."
He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.
Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.
(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)
"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"
Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"
"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."
Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.
"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."
Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.
Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.
"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.
Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.
Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."
"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.
"As you insist," Dream says.
Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.
"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."
Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."
"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.
"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."
Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.
"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."
Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.
"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."
He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.
Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."
Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.
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saelique · 22 days
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“are you tired of me now ? I totally understand if you are-”
“I just literally rambled about you to my friends/teammates/coworkers/mom for one hour.”
isagi , kaiser ? , dazai , gojo , atsushi , yuji , ranpo ? , chuuya ? , tecchou ? , ness ? + ur favs ૮꒰ྀི つ˘ `⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა
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xisadorapurlowx · 5 months
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lucidloving · 5 months
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Oscar Wilde // L. Munir, "Lazarus" // Gustav Klimt, The Kiss // @lucidloving // Take Me to Church—Hozier // Richard Siken, "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out" // @lucidloving // Gustav Vigeland, Man and Woman // Caitlyn Sieh, "Mythology" // @lucidloving
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literalnobody · 1 year
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“It’s not right to psychoanalyse an author’s morals by what they write” is obviously a good and valid stance but have you ever read a book by a male author who makes his thoughts on women so unpleasantly clear the moment a female character comes on page
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