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#r; writes
out-of-jams · 20 days
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REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS
Too many beds
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss
Really nice guy who hates only you
Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class
Divorce of convenience
Too much communication
True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)
Dating your enemy’s sibling
Lovers to enemies
Hate at first sight
Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead
Fake amnesia
Soulmates who are fated to kill each other
Strangers to enemies
Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating
Too hot to cuddle
Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground
Nursing home au
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prokopetz · 2 months
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Yes, your worldbuilding is thorough, your geography meticulous, your plotting elaborate, and your characterisation nuanced, but answer me this: is there a fucked up little guy?
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gingerswagfreckles · 7 months
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After 146 days, the Writer's Strike has ended with a resounding success. Throughout constant attempts by the studios to threaten, gaslight, and otherwise divide the WGA, union members stood strong and kept fast in their demands. The result is a historic win guaranteeing not only pay increases and residual guarantees, but some of the first serious restrictions on the use of AI in a major industry.
This win is going to have a ripple effect not only throughout Hollywood but in all industries threatened by AI and wage reduction. Studio executives tried to insist that job replacement through AI is inevitable and wage increases for staff members is not financially viable. By refusing to give in for almost five long months, the writer's showed all of the US and frankly the world that that isn't true.
Organizing works. Unions work. Collective bargaining how we bring about a better future for ourselves and the next generation, and the WGA proved that today. Congratulations, Writer's Guild of America. #WGAstrong!!!
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inkskinned · 7 months
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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soranker · 20 days
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my girlfriend
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whereserpentswalk · 8 months
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thehopefulquotes · 2 months
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So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.
R. Arnold
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urfriendlywriter · 5 months
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prompts that has me lying on a highway:
(feel free to use <3 10, 15, 20 are my favs omds. yall tag me when u writeeee I'd love to read :))
"I'm glad you were strong, love."
"i notice the little efforts you make for me.. and i just want you to know i appreciate it." whos cutting onions
SMILING during a kissss >>>>>
the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you.
hand holding, twirling in their arms, slow dancing > <
telling a joke just to see them laugh
"love.. isn't a word enough to express what i feel for you."
"you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love." <333
hugging. especially if they're not much of a hugger, but they keep hugging you because you feel down. (this is my bestfriend aaah ilovehersm :( )
"tell me what you want, baby." in the deepest, nearly inaudible murmur AAAAH
when they always feed you their last bite
"give me a hug."
"i can't even act mad at you, love."
flirty BANTERS!!!!
"I'll come over there and make you shut up then." "you can try."
"i love you." "say it again."
caressing one's cheek (the one in the face.)
running into each other's arms after barely surviving
enemies but one is admitting, confessing and crying to the another after almost losing them!!!!!
collecting your injured lover,
^ "don't you dare die on me, [full fckn name]." "i won't, my love, i want to live for you... with you. for a long time." they strain but their smile after makes you cry.
"this is so wrong," "if so, then stop me, love," "you tempt me, [name]-" cue a KISSSSS "-and you drive me insane."
being curled up together on the bed, their face buried in your chest.
"i like how you did ____ today/that day."
forehead kisses. cheek kisses, knuckle kisses.
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perfectfeelings · 6 months
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So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.
R. Arnold
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desperate-baitmeat · 3 months
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unethical therapist being paid by my dad to manipulate me into thinking being fucked by family members is normal. convincing me that’s a way dads like to show their love, and any kid would be lucky to have a dad that loves me as much as mine does.
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obsob · 1 year
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making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!
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stay-close · 11 months
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So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.
R. Arnold
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kidovna · 1 year
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Favourite fandom trope of the day: wisdom teeth removal
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rusquared · 8 months
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for just that one reader who is reading this page right now
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quotefeeling · 24 days
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Sometimes the most beautiful people are beautifully broken.
R. M. Drake
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gojo-mochi · 6 months
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Gojo loves your titties, call them his “Girlies.” He had a bad day? He’s resting his face right in the middle of them, one hand squeezing them occasionally as he whines about how mean Nanami or Megumi was to him earlier that day. Can’t keep his hands off of them, in public when you’re walking side by side, his hand on your waist, he would secretly move it up inch by inch until he can get a squeeze in. You lost count of how many times you had to slap his hand away when he tried to do it behind the back of his students or the other teachers. At home, there is no excuse now, whether you’re cooking, relaxing, or doing anything. Gojo is right there behind you, hand on your chest, chin on your shoulder or resting on your head. Talking the day away like his large hand isn’t encompassing your entire boob right now.
If he feeling frisky (which is most of the time, let’s be honest), he would slip his hand under your shirt or if you’re around the house braless, he would teasingly rub and pinch at your nubs until you start to whine. Then because he’s a jerk, he would pull his hands away and walk away like nothing happened until you go to beg him to touch some more. During sex it when he’s the worst about it, now he can’t keep his mouth off of your chest, licking, sucking, and biting at it. Leaving various love marks all around your poor titties, leaving it sore in the morning afterwards. He’ll happily massage the pain away though. Gojo will suck at your nipples like he’s trying to get milk out of it though, no matter how many times you say you can’t, he’ll try anyway, stating that maybe one day it’ll work. 
When he’s fucking you, if he can see your tits bounce, his eyes are fixated on them, stopping to a halt with his cock buried all the way inside of you, stopping just when you were about to reach that peak. Your nails digging in his shoulder as you cried out, wondering why he stopped.  Only for him to lean down and place a wet smack on each of your tits like; “Forgot to give my girlies their kisses~” And just because he’s so nice, he’ll let you return the favor and play with his tiddies as well.
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