#man. writing a book is hard

[tabsters]

the thing about writing is this: I am a good writer. objectively speaking, I am a good writer. I know this as indisputable fact. I have spent years honing my craft. I know I have worked hard to get to where I am now. and yet, I am unable to accept this fact as reality. in my eyes, I have not grown past the little kid who nearly quit writing because their ‘friend’ criticized them too harshly. I may have surpassed them, but that is only because they have stopped trying. that will be me one day. I will collapse from exhaustion, I will have peaked, and there will be nothing I can do as the next best author comes along, stepping on my corpse as they walk past. I may say pretty words, but I cannot tell if there is any intent behind them. the audience says there is, but is there really? I am the author. I should know my writing as well as my own soul, and yet I don’t. I do not know where I crossed the threshold of needing an audience to read my soul. I do not know when I depended on an audience’s words to fill the void where my soul once was. and the audience mocks me. they say, ‘I like your writing’. ‘which part?’ I ask. ‘I couldn’t choose,’ the audience choruses back. ‘all of it. all of it is good.’ how dare they, to lie so brazenly to my face. nobody is perfect. always, something can be improved. did they even read it to its fullest? how can they blindly like everything I create? it is because they know my soul, and it is because they know me. the audience is biased (but that’s why they came to my show). and I am there in the center, in a cage, on my hands and knees like an animal, begging for the details the audience refuses to share. what did they like? what did they dislike? what did they love? what did they hate? what can I do better, because I will change every bit of it to satisfy you? anything for you? the audience refuses to answer. some will. some always will. how I wish they would continue. I subsist solely off of their honeyed words. and yet, those who do supply me with sustenance do it behind a mask. I know not of their true identities, their true intent. maybe this is better. it is better because I can be sure that they are not saying slander just to soothe me. it is those who I am closest with, those who let their masks down, who do not wish to offer anything up. what are they afraid of? is it because I am standing in front of them, hungry for attention? are they afraid of their words being like poison? I wish they wouldn’t be; I can take anything they throw at me. at least it is something. their praise still feels superficial even when I know it is a hundred percent genuine. ‘write more,’ they say. I write more. more and more and more until I am drowning in my own words. I am not a robot. I am flesh and blood and bone. and I am doing all of this by myself. read my work. please. please, do it for me. please. I made this for you. please. look at me. please. tell me how much you love it. tell me how much you love me. please. I am withering away in this cage. and the thing about being a writer is this: I am wise enough to know that I made this cage with my own hands, clever enough to make a key to set myself free, and foolish enough to want to remain in here forever. I am a writer. I know my soul well enough to know I am never going to get out.

[iliothermia]

[etirabys]

a frustrating thing about battle royale stories is that they take place in a world where there's a massive popular appetite to see torture and death, the existence of this appetite is the main moral evil of the story (so far so fine), and the author tends to pretend this is also a huge problem in our world so that their work can stand as a Commentary On Real Evil. when the world their actual readership lives in has the opposite problem – too squeamish about seeing torture and death and coercion and collectively agrees to sequester it out of view so that nice things can keep being available for under five dollars at the grocery store

[egophiliac]

happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

[sanctus-ingenium]

Bowman (art from 2021)

[hyohaehyuk]

iwtv_updates: Jacob felt pressure adding lines to the Reunion scene, as Sam told him these would become canon for his Lestat. Rolin approached Jacob with the idea first, knowing Sam would dislike it. Jacob agreed, enjoying the opportunity to wind Sam up.

Video: INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE star Jacob Anderson unpacks the gothic horror of Season 2 | TV Insider

[littlest-bugz]

Man :( My uncle kinda bummed me out about my fantasy series.

He's like "well you need humans or elves or something that readers can already relate to" and I'm like

the 10+ species I made was for nothing? The species I made to replace the human population is just,,, irrelevant? Like damn :( I really broke my back making this fantasy realm for 8 years, and I have to change it entirely now because humans need to be there for 'relatability'?

My wee little heart is shattered,, Would literally anyone read a fantasy series that doesn't have humans or elves?

[sforzesco]

"Since you've named yourself after Julius fucking Caesar, perhaps I'll follow in your lead and choose one of the conspirators." "Interesting," says Giuliano. "Should I worry about finding you at the center of some kind of conspiracy that ends with my death?" "Not from me," replies Ascanio. He sounds tired. "Not anymore."

informally, some kind of. conversational follow up to the last comic. I'm trying to get the atmospheric conversational whimsy out of my system because I have a vision of the vatican as a body in active decay, a point of infection spreading out and poisoning the well, a jaw unhinged that people walk into over and over, and I am so close to figure out how to convey this visually. maybe.

[avnasace]

no but the way viserys continues to haunt the story through rhaenyra and alicents conflict, which gets passed down to both of their children, is crazy good content.

the irony in that viserys the peaceful was the one who started this war, and the downfall of the dragons/his family in the first place.

viserys and daemon had their own conflict, but when viserys alienated rhaenyra initially by marrying her best friend, he then ignored his and alicents children, eventually later his actions leading to rhaenyra marrying his brother (who he'd also taken for granted and ignored).

he then kept doting on rhaenyra up until the moment he died, further seperating himself from his own children by alicent.

alicent knows of rhaenyras affairs, grows hateful and takes that resentment out on her own children instead, while her father otto is further poisoning her and them for his own ends to scheme for the throne.

so then alicents children learnt to grow up disliking rhaenyra's. the only time you see them even remotely amicable is when theyre bullying aemond, another bond made through cruelty instead of kindness. this is ironic considering at laenas funeral you can see that aemond actually thinks about trying to offer comfort to i think baela and rhaena (if i remember correctly?)

aegon and helaena couldnt care less, which to me makes it even more sad. if aemond had, he might not have then been so quick to rub his claiming of vhagar in their faces, and he might not have lost an eye.

the taking of the eye plus viserys' incompetence reignites and cements alicents hatred for rhaenyra even more. viserys takes rhaenyras side, not defending his hurt child at all, even going as far as to shout at aegon for even the mention that he might have said something against rhaenyra. this causes alicent to attack her, and later making her then double down on her efforts to pressure aegon into hating rhaenyra, further distancing him from her.

later we see with aegon that his mothers pressure leads him to find affection in other very unhealthy and harmful ways, assaulting his maids, excessive drinking, brothel going, and assumably fathering many bastards, leading him tho the child fighting rings as well. aemond too starts going to the brothel and avoiding alicent, but for platonic affection instead of anything more.

helaena is the one who received the most of her mothers love and the least of her cruelty, however their relationship is similarly screwed up because shes the only child that doesnt actually want affection from her...

meanwhile rhaenyra is a very loving and fiercely protective mother to her children, fighting for them above all else, especially when their parentage is concerned. she does anything for them, and it shows in their natures that their upbringing, other than the scrutiny from other nobles about their father, that they were raised kindly and wisely.

whats also completely different is that rhaenyras children have not one but three father figures, all of which love them in different ways, which is three more than alicents children have. you could make an argument for cole being a prominent male figure in their lives but he is also quite cruel and hateful.

we see team greens children grow up to be anxious, affection starved control freaks, with mummy and daddy issues, with not one of them knowing how to be a leader even though they are all in some way forced to be one.

aegon is an incompetent drunkard of a king who knows nothing of court or war or politics, not even high valyrian. he is only a figurehead, but is strangely empathetic towards his subjects and loves his children.

aemond is cruel and objective, a fierce fighter and being the most studied and educated of them all, but with no care to his subjects and far too willing to disregard or maim his own blood for his own ambitions.

helaena is the gentlest but she herself has no ambition to rule, she is kind but also an outcast of their society because of her prophecies. she also does not particularly care for her subjects, even being scared of them and their willingness to get to know her.

meanwhile in complete contrast jacaerys and lucerys are kind, more than willing to learn, theyre fluent in high valyrian, they are very interested in their histories and heritage and they learn sword fighting from harwin and assumably laenor? later probably daemon too.

they stand in the war council room with their mother and learn, and even baela and rhaena are involved by rhaenyra to both take part and learn.

the generational trauma goes crazy in this show, but all these characters are so compelling. i dont think there is a single main character that doesnt interest me. yes most of them are bad people and have done awful things, but its also so interesting to see how they got that way and see how one fathers actions, or lack thereof, caused so much destruction.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3

[prissyprince]

I actually had barely touched v5 until we started planning out the game.

And yeah, ok, I feel the hate now.

[kamisatoayato]

adolin kholin the man that u are...

[thegentlemanwarrior]

The Furnace and the Forge: How Viktor Frankl Helped Me Survive My Own Fire

I was ten years old when I learned that not all wounds bleed.

Most kids remember their school years through the lens of friends, field trips, and awkward classroom moments. I remember mine through fists and silence. I was bullied relentlessly—verbally, physically, emotionally. Mocked for how I looked. Targeted for things I couldn’t control. Once, I was thrown through a plate glass window. Not metaphorically. Literally.

The violence was constant. The names stuck. And the worst of it—the absolute worst—was when it happened in front of my younger sister. One afternoon, two boys jumped me on the walk home. I collapsed in the fetal position while she watched, unable to help. I wasn’t just hurting. I was humiliated. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I was weeping on the pavement.

That was the fracture. Not just of bone, but of identity. A slow, poisonous lie began to form in my mind: “I deserve this. I must be broken.”

The scars weren’t just on my body. They settled into my spirit. And when the people who should have protected me—my parents, my teachers—responded with silence, with excuses, with shame, it confirmed what I feared: I wasn’t worth defending.

I carried that belief for years.

And then I read Man’s Search for Meaning.

Who Was Viktor Frankl?

Viktor Frankl was a neurologist, psychiatrist, and Holocaust survivor. Born in Vienna in 1905, he was a rising intellectual in the field of psychology—until the Nazis took everything from him.

Frankl, his wife, and his parents were deported to concentration camps. Only Frankl survived. He lost his family, his freedom, and the manuscript of his life’s work. He endured starvation, disease, forced labor, and the daily presence of death.

But in that darkness, Frankl discovered something profound.

He realized that even in the worst imaginable circumstances, humans have a choice: to decide how they respond. To find meaning in the suffering. To hold onto a purpose—no matter how small—that makes the pain endurable.

After the war, Frankl rebuilt his life and wrote Man’s Search for Meaning in just nine days. It became one of the most influential books of the 20th century, with over 12 million copies sold. But more than its reach, it was its truth that changed me.

What the Book Says

The book is divided into two parts.

The first is a haunting account of Frankl’s years in the camps. He doesn’t dramatize his suffering—he simply tells the truth. And that truth is brutal. But it’s also illuminating. He describes how prisoners who lost their sense of purpose gave up and died—not always physically, but spiritually. Those who survived, he noticed, often had something to live for: a child they hoped to see again, a manuscript they still hoped to write, a God they still believed in.

The second part introduces Frankl’s psychological philosophy: logotherapy. Unlike Freud’s focus on pleasure or Adler’s focus on power, Frankl insisted that the primary drive in life is meaning. When life loses meaning, we spiral. But when we find it—even in pain—we can endure almost anything.

His central idea is simple but seismic: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

What It Did to Me

When I first read Frankl’s book, I wasn’t looking for inspiration. I was trying to make sense of years of silent rage and shame. His story didn’t erase my past—but it reframed it.

For the first time, someone put into words what I had felt but couldn’t articulate: that suffering without purpose is unbearable, but suffering with purpose can be redemptive.

Frankl’s survival wasn’t just physical—it was philosophical. He found a reason to endure. And in doing so, he offered the rest of us a path forward.

I began to look at my own pain differently.

What if those years of humiliation weren’t proof that I was worthless, but evidence that I had survived something meant to break me?

What if my story could become fuel—for compassion, for fatherhood, for faith?

What if the blacksmith image Frankl evokes—a sword hammered and heated again and again—wasn’t just theory, but truth? Maybe my suffering wasn’t senseless. Maybe it was the forge.

That’s what Man’s Search for Meaning gave me. Not a way out, but a way through. A reason to keep showing up. A challenge to find purpose, not in spite of the pain, but because of it.

If you're walking through something brutal right now, I won't offer you platitudes. But I’ll echo Frankl:

Your suffering doesn’t have to define you. It can refine you.

Meaning doesn’t erase the pain. But it transforms it—from a weight to a weapon.

And sometimes, that’s what saves you.

[reireichu]

This is a man who lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. Twice.

[bewakulfi]

online friendships ars so bittersweet

[magic-is-something-we-create]

why yes, ive been watching misfits and magic season 2 and living for the shadow familiar brought to life on the dome, why do you ask,,,,