Sick of writing smut and fluff sometimes and just wish I could actually have those intimate (both romantic and physical) needs fulfilled for real.

Sick of only being happy with life in my imagination.

When you're writing fanfic and you realize you have given the characters personal issues that are actually your own issues that you hadn't identified yet:

there’s a boat stuck in the suez canal.

it used to be stuck there because it was physically stuck, it had jammed itself into the canal wall during a sandstorm and couldn’t get out of the bank. It held up loads of traffic, and everyone had a good laugh, because damn, for once we can laugh about a big disruption and funny situation where nobody dies or is seriously injured.

they unstuck it from the bank some time ago. but they didn’t unstick it from the canal, because it caused so many companies to lose money that it’s forbidden to leave the canal until the company pays a fine.

which is, obviously, even funnier at first. get the boat unstuck, make it stuck again. the punishment for getting unstuck after about a week in the canal is to... make you stay in the canal longer.

and then I think about it a little more and yeah, it’s still funny but there’s something else too. something deeper. something different.

we are the ever given.

we have three choices, except we’re not the ones who get to make the choice. we can stay stuck in the canal or we can get out and pay the price for it.

stay stuck in the canal, stay poor, stay out on the streets. stay working a minimum-wage job, without basic respect that everyone deserves, stay down, keep your head low, you made your bed now lie in it.

or you can get out, if you’re lucky and work real real hard. get a high-stakes, high-paying job. get a nice house and get a car and health insurance and what the hell, maybe a sweet upper-middle-class suburban family. and then your insurance runs out because your job was too taxing on your health and you get sick and die because you can’t pay the bills anymore.

dead is dead is dead, they say. dead on the streets, dead in a hospital bed. you’re still dead. it doesn’t matter. but they’re wrong. dead isn’t dead because nobody dies. everyone is still alive in every little scrap of humanity. remove one little pebble and there goes the cave. there are people who you cannot kill. because they are alive in every part of what makes us human.

this is going way too out-of-whack for a metaphor about the human condition and the ludicrous incident of the boat in a canal, so let’s go back to where the ever given was us and we were the ever given.

the ever given isn’t a ship stuck in a canal, it’s a people stuck in a system that’s too narrow for them. the ever given will never die, even after it leaves the canal because the ghost of it will stay in us forever, reminding us who we were and who we might have become.

as long as the ever given is there, and we are the ever given, we live drifting between being trapped in the canal by force or trapped in the canal by ultimatum. either way we’re still stuck in the canal and the only way to get out is by leaving and then by digging out the banks of the canal and making it bigger and making the ships follow regulation so this never happens again to anyone and the ever given and by extension the human population can taste freedom and fairness again.

the ever given won’t leave the canal until we do. when that is, though, that’s up to us.

I just started working on a new book after so long of having block, and it feels amazing to have my brain back, even if it's just working for one book. Anyways, I don't think I've ever read any fake dating au's for jemily that aren't undercover au's, which is sad because those are so cute! So I'm writing one!

i LOVE sentences in the form of:

*<verb><noun>*

instead of

*<verb><pronoun><noun>*

for example:

*grabs pants*

who's pants are being grabbed? are they my pants? your pants?

what pants are being involved in such a way that intrigues the mind to plunder further into the story than previously though possible

Just writing struggles

me: I need to stop writing one shots I have a few SQSNs to focus on and they are due soon after all

also me: I keep getting inspired by so many people in this bird app because their ideas and prompts IT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN!!!!!! #swanqueen #sqstruggles #Icantstopbeinginspired

Sometimes writing is a breeze and the words just fly from my mind onto the page.

Other times (like tonight) I write the same goddamned sentence 157 times because no version of it is exactly right.

Fuck me up! Why am I thinking about you? Maybe it was because you were my first girl...correction, my first woman I had anything with. You were the first to make me realize who I truly was, even when I was afraid to know that side of me. You knew what I was when you laid eyes on me and there are days I feel like you are the biggest lesson that came into my life…..even over my son’s father (because men are trivial when you simply gay).

YES! Gay...GAY AS FUCK. I love pussy. Eating it, fingering it, touching it, feeling the wetness on my finger as I feel all her walls. Suddenly when she is rubbing on me and I’m rubbing on her; her touch is ecstasy. A sweaty man on top of me while being inside of me….doesn’t do it for me anymore. My bisexual (defined ass) wants to have sex with a man a few more times before calling it quits. But I’m confident I know what I’m going to end up with. I smile more when it comes to women. I love seeing them, being around them...especially when I’m crushing. I’m not afraid of men like my sister. No...simply I am not into them. Don’t think I ever was.

But off that topic….. I’m back to thinking about you! Why?! I don’t know. Maybe it is because this “other air sign” that I’m fucking around with is driving me up the wall. So delicate in her feelings, and more confusing than you ever were. You were simple. Almost like those algebra equations that I liked to do sitting next to you while you are trying to catch up on sleep.

I let out a sigh as I’m sitting here at work, daydreaming about being with something easier and continue to figure out my feelings for this air sign woman. All I can do is keep moving. No need to look at the past.

But I must ask Cupid something…...what the fuck, man? Can you make this love game a little easier?

Thank you <3

I have a feeling I have to meet him in the middle. Damn Cupid.

What was your first original work about?

please don't pay attention to me listening to the same single song on repeat on spotify

me, reading a story: ugh, they didn’t even resolve this glaring plot hole! 

me, reading my own story: we can have a little plot hole. as a treat

My cat follows me about as good as my ideas do (so not at all)

Do you ever just want to set your writing on fire?

“I don’t even know what this is” I say about everything I’ve ever written.

So I lied. Johnny is bisexual. Not one of my characters are cishet.

Everyone is queer in some way.

I recently decided to continue writing a story I outlined in 2018. I was reading over the outline when I came across a scene where the characters storm the US Capital Building and try to talk to all the senators. Then I laughed because I remembered thinking “This is so unrealistic.” Now I’m over here like 😳

I going through my project list and writing out the first scenes for several fics but now I actually have to assign them titles and I have nothing...

I’m half tempted to crowd source the titles.

me, a bilingual writing in English: *shamelessly combines British and American english*

Officially requesting @dianaburnwood's last ask as a ficlet please

The problem with prompts like this is that I think "right I won't forget that" and then it's two weeks later.