#writing from experience

[villainsimpqueen]

Not Alone.

Adam x Sick! Reader (Gn)

So this one shot is a little self centered. Its completely a Reader One shot, gender neutral.

It is Angst & Comfort

But everything the Reader Experiences is true symptoms & a true epsiode of a unoffical/Unknown diagnosis sickness that I am being seen by a specialist to find a possible diagnosis amd hopefully meds.

This is also about my bad epsiode from last night, and im still trying to mentally recover from it, and so i decieded to write.

I wrote this as a way to self comfort but also to confort anyone out there that has similar experiences and for them to know that.

Your Not Alone.

As always, All my works are 18 plus, no minors allowed.

And To anyone who reads/likes/reblogs/relates to this post, Your doing amazing, and your so strong.

To the one shot fic.

Heaven was supposed to be eternally peaceful, All those with pain, illness & sickness in their past life would face it no more in heaven. 

That was how it was intended to be. 

So when you had passed away and entered those pearly gates you had thought your own illness had too poofed away like the heavenly dream and promise should have been. 

But it didn't. 

Yours had followed you, clinging to you unwanted and despite many heavenly high angels coming to aid you, the sickness had stayed attached and clung to you despite it not being a thing of peace and tranquility. 

The high angels did their best to console you as you wept after your first bad episode of the persistent sickness that had followed in your devine afterlife. 

They didn't understand it as much as you didnt understand, but they consoled you trying to tell you that perhaps it was heaven's plan for you to continue on with it, That maybe you were the key to stop it from happening on earth or at least an aid in finding cures for earth. 

It was unfair. 

But you couldn't openly say that, and so you tried ignoring it as you tried finding work to do to occupy your mind, the less you thought of it the better for your mental state. 

It was in your official heavenly work records that it would be best if you did not have a super laborious job, and for some reason, the work division department decided to assign you as the First Man… Adam's Assistant was the perfect job for you. 

Your new boss was…..definitely labor intensive. 

He seemed to not understand the concept of paperwork leaving you to do piles and piles of backwork, reading and organizing reports, compiling and binding them and sending them all out. Top of that the man did not seem to understand that his flirting, pick up lines and continuous offers to “treat you to dinner” was uninvited and unwelcome. 

You would have thought after the third kind no, and afterwards the short and curt blatant rejections to all his advances would have the Man gone and uninterested in you. 

But oh were you so wrong, if anything it only drove him to up his belt at flirting, and all that much to your displeasure. He always seemed to know where you were in the office and whether it was a door frame, fridge, table, desk he would lean or perch against it to start up his flirting. 

“Heya babes you free later tonight?”

“Whatsa man gotta do to get your number?” 

“Your looking fucking hot today, like always babes.” 

“If I had to pick you or an apple, it would be that fine ass anyday.” 

You hated how the last one had made you snort. It was so stupid, That it actually had made you laugh and you had regretted it when you saw the first man's masked eyes crinkle and sharp toothed grin only widened, which had made you immediately shot back.

“go choke on an apple Adam.” 

Before you fled the break room with your cup of coffee, warm in your hands, you had heard the man make a noise similar to amusement and he had shouted after you.

“Did that Babes, would rather choke on your instead. “ 

“I'm filing another HR report.”

“Ouuu Spicy!” 

You never knew you would be so grateful for him always appearing out of nowhere until now. 

You had been taking reports somewhere when you felt your body's red flags start to fly. 

Your vision of the office hall growing longer and shorter. Your breathing started to pick up and yet slowed down as your head started to feel like it was fading. Thoughts become hard to formulate  and your legs grow weaker with a tingling numbness that starts to rapidly climb. 

You had leaned against a wall trying to relax, trying to breathe, as time seemed to freeze and slowly tick away as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Your breaths heavily leave you as you begin to feel light and yet so heavy as you felt the tremors start to shake internally and knew it wouldn't be long before they showed outwardly. 

It was going to be a bad one. 

You dreaded as your mouth started to go dry, and tingled with a cold sensation before it started to taste as if you bit into a raw steak. 

The metalic taste of dirty pennies feels in your mouth as if your body's iron had decided to gather and party into your mouth all at once. 

Your ears began to ring and tingle as your hearing like your vision started to fade away and echo making things far sound near and things near sound far away. 

How long were you there for? How long since it started? 

You were going to fall. You were going to fall and you can't move to catch yourself! 

Your gonna- 

“You good babes?” Adams voice cut through the internal trapped dialog of your brain and ass your flicked your non stop fluttering eyes trying to see him, your vision being blurry and yet hyper focus at the same time as his voice echoed no stop in your ears far away and yet close you didn't even know how long it had been since he had asked. 

Your brain constantly jumps forward and yet lagging severely behind as your jaw and mouth muscles spasmed as you fought trying to open your mouth but couldn't. 

You can't move. 

And your going to fucking fall and collapse and fall on your face and you cant move. 

“You ain't gonna pass out on my babes are you?” Adams words echoed sounding near and far as you felt pressure start to take over your body, your gravity being utterly ripped apart as the Episode sunk its teeth and claws into with a vicious grin and glint in its eyes as you felt your eyes start fluttering and body start to fall back into the wall.

“Ah shit. Nope, Nope, easy down you go.” 

Hands grabbed at your shoulders, sending jolts through your entire body focusing into your numbed and useless legs as the hands led you down the ground safely, moving you carefully onto your back, a hand holding your head from the floor until it made contact with something hard yet soft. 

The need to talk burned through you but your jaw would correspond with your wishes. 

Your eyes burn even when closed, tears don't need a conscious thought to form as your eyes flutter open and close talking in nothing but the harsh lighting, black and sparkling spots that dance across your eyes as you struggle to breathe. 

When was your last breath? When did you breathe?! 

Something moving through your hair sent more jolts through your frozenly stiff and limp body. 

“It's okay babes. You okay..I got you, just breathe for me okay? Just breathe.”

The voice echoed in and out if your ears as your eyes fluttered shut the trembles coming out of you starting with in and making its way out as the numbing pains started to take hold into your legs. 

Tears streaming from your eyes as your jaw keeps tightening and loosening. 

Hell, this was hell. 

You were having a good day, today was a good day, so why? why? 

“Just let it out babes, you're okay, just breathe, I'm here, I got you.”

“Im….sor…ry” You managed to barely get out as your mind fogged once more and body stole away the ability to speak once again locking your jaw as your tremors  became more casing your chest to heave as your struggled to take each breath. 

You felt like you were dying. 

Are you dying this time? Which breath would be your last? 

Would you have to feel yourself suffocate slowly while you couldn't move? 

“Don't say that shit, You dont have a thing to be sorry for, i got you, just breathe Darlin.” 

Fingers moved through your hair feeling like they were going to split your head and skull right open. 

It was painful as much as it was comforting. 

Your hearing started ringing again you could hear muffled echoed voices, your brain struggling to put pieces together and when you could finally open your eyes again you saw bits and pieces of Adams face, and another, a woman.

You struggled to recognize her for a moment. 

Lute. 

“Sir I brought the wet cold towels and water as you stated, what else can I do to help.” 

They were helping you? 

They weren't going to leave you? 

More tears moved down your cheeks, they felt so cold, you felt so cold, you felt like you were on fire. 

“Thisbis all we can do, There body has to work it out on its own, I got this okay Just close off the Hall, dont allow any fuckers in. Give them privacy. I got this…Hey babes, I got you…Fuck your burning up..hey hey its okay breathe for me okay? soft breaths” 

Your eyes fluttered back close, involuntary jerking as something freezing surrounded your forehead making you out a noise of pain as you felt like daggers scratching and piercing your frontal skull dance around. 

Another when another cold thing shoved behind your neck right against your brain stim. 

The tremors worsen as you fight to breathe. You didn't need to hear them, you could tell each struggling inhale and shaky exhale was raspy as if it was a death rattle. 

Warmth covered your hands, making the tremors only worsen and the numbing splitting pain shot through your arms and into your legs making you clench your teeth and cry more. 

This is humiliating. 

“Fuck your hands are like ice…Hold on…” 

Rustling fabrics heard and your eyes tried finding it behind your closed eyelids, you couldn't open them as the lighting behind your eyelids were so bright and pure white you were sure if you opened them you wouldn't have vision at all. 

Something so unbearably heavy covered you, making you jolt and twitch, Your chest wracking as you struggled to breathe more gasping, gasping for air. 

“It's okay, let it out, I have you, you're doing so good.”

You're doing so well. 

How such words utterly broke you as you sobbed between broken gasps for air, the tremors bringing nothing but agony as your body felt like it was being electrocuted internally. 

“I…m…sorry.” 

It was the only thing you could raspily push out as you suffered trapped in your own flesh and bone as the very vessel you care and tended for failed you and imprisoned you. 

Allowing this greedy sickness to steal your life from you. 

Hands holding your head on the hard yet soft thing.

“Are they conscious?!” A voice echoed, sounding so far away. 

“Yes they're just in and out, they're okay. The report said this happens. We just gonna stay nice and calm and chill..They can hear us…aint that right babes? You just can't talk right now and that's okay. Just breathe, you're doing such a good job.” Adams comforting concerned words echoed each one fading in and out of your hearing as your brain tried to associate meaning.

How long has it been? It feels like years, god what if it was years. 

You couldn't tell how long you were there, how much time had passed as you suffered in forced silence.

“You want some water?” 

Yes. 

Yes you wanted water, that sounds so divine. 

Water to wash away the blood taste in your mouth? You needed it more than anything. 

Your throat and Jaw and tongue are failing you, making some strangled noses as you fight your body to try to move. 

You wanted to sob when you felt a hand move under your head and tilt it to the side, something pressed to your parted lips and cold, precious water slowly trickling in. 

Each small and allowed sip Adam had given you felt like a life line as if life was being allowed back into your husked of a useless failing body. 

You only had a couple of sips before your head was moved back and a hand found its way back to your hair. 

“That's it…We will try again in a moment.” 

That moment will feel like centuries. 

But as promised Adam provided you little sips of water, let you rest and breath for a moment and then continue the repeated steps. 

Over time you would finally, Finally, feel your body to allow you full utter consciousness. 

Becoming more aware as you flutter your eyes open slowly being allowed vision again with nothing obstructing your viewing privileges. 

You could see the lights of the hallway, the walls, how high they looked when you were forced to the ground. You took in soft golden eyes, not led lighted lines but real golden eyes. Tanned dark skinned face, with a stubbly chin of facial hair and the fluffiest and curly hair you ever seen with the strongest cowlick possible. 

Your brain struggled for a few moments before understanding that this was Adam. And that Adam was not wearing that strange mask thingy. 

As if seeing your sudden spurt of Alertness Adams golden eyes filled with relief, a soft encouraging smile forming on his real natural lips as he looked down at you.

“There you are.” He speaks softly as if he was so utterly proud of you.

There you are. 

You cried, you couldn't help it, all you could do was cry as you felt the numbness leave your body slowly, Adam only offered soft words. 

Soon With his help, You was able to sit up, feeling your head go light and foggy to slowly clearing as He offered you water.

“You can't come down this hall, find another route.” Lute's voice echoed down the hallway to you, making you too embarrassed but grateful. 

At least no other coworkers saw you collapsed and paralyzed on the floor. 

“I know you probably wanna be a bad bitch and all independent n all, but like, Can I fly you home, just to be sure you're safe?” Adam asked gently, something in his voice that caught your attention. 

You assessed your wings and took into account how they felt so utterly weak, there was no way you were flying. And how your legs still felt useless when you gave him a weak smile.

“I couldn't walk if I wanted to.” You told him and Adam moved, His arms finding way under your knees and around your back to effortlessly pick you up with ease.

It made you really take in just how Large he really was. 

Adam was practically a giant and sometimes it was hard to get that with all the slouching and leaning on things it's easy to forget

 that Adam was pushing twelve feet tall..

“Don't worry I got you, just relax babes.” Adam told you and for once you did, melting into his arms in relief as he moved out to a flying window and took off, His golden wings stretching out widely as they cut through the air with ease, Rotating and flapping when needed as he carried you in his thick yet strong arms. You stared at his face realizing Adam left his mask behind in the hallway and you couldn't help but notice how alluring Adam really was. 

“You want me to stop and grab you some food so you can just relax in bed or something?” Adam softly asked his golden eyes moving to land on you making you realize you had stared at him for a moment. 

“Uh..No i'll just order in.” You told him,You already felt like a burden enough, you didn't need to add onto it. 

Adam looked like he wanted to protest, but as he stared at your face you watched as it died immediately and he focused on getting you to your home. 

“You know where I live?” You asked after a few minutes as if it dawned on you.

“I know where all my Employees live Including an emergency contacts.” He states a serious note in his tone as he keeps his eyes ahead.

“Just like I knew how to aid you, I read all my Employees files. Shits are important like allergies in shit, I make sure everyones good..” 

You didnt..You didn't really expect this level of responsibility maturity  from Adam. You always thought he was just some Ass who wanted to sleep around…..which you were sure he still was but maybe not that much of an asshole. 

Soon he was landing on your house's landing dock. He walked inside your home holding you.

“So erm…, ya bed or couch?” He asked that change in his tone still ringing in your ears, yet it wasnt pity or any of that, more so like he was genuinely trying to be serious. 

You kinda miss one of his crude jokes. 

“My couch is fine.” You tell him and he took you to the couch settling you down easily before he kinda stared at you.

“Welp, see ya when you're ready to work again, text me if ya can't or if ya need anything and i gotcha.” He said before waving awkwardly at you and heading out to your house's loading dock. 

You watched him a thank you falling from your lips as you stared blankly at the tv, a hand grabbing your phone as you could hear Adams Wings spread outside. 

Your fingers tapping away at a screen and before you heard him launch up into the sky. a ringing sounded. 

You heard rustling from his pockets knowing he checked his phone, A noise leaving him before he was back in your house and on your couch, you turned on the Tv as he plopped on the other side of your couch. 

When you turned you saw how bright his g9lden eyes were, gleaming a wide excited smile on his face, his phone in his hand.

“Course I'll watch a movie with a baddie like you, what kind of ribs do you eat?”

_____Bonus______

Phone

Contact: Dumbassmcgee. (Adam)

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Adam a previous date: Meeting at 9, be there

Adam a previous date: Wanna grab lunch afterwards? 😏🍕🌭

               I'll be there: You, a previous date

                

               No thanks.: You, a previous date

Adam, a previous date: Offer still stands Hottie 🙊

Trip and fall (Censored emoji): You, a previous date 

Adam, a previous date: LMAO LAME ASS KEYBOARD!! 🤣🤣🤣

Adam, A previous date: Here 🖕🖕🖕

                     Thanks.: You, a previous date.

                      🖕🖕🖕: You, a previous date.

 

Hey to not be a burden anymore than i have…..Do you By chance wanna stay and watch a movie. 🥺👉👈 Friends of course! 🧍‍♀️.                            : You now

[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.

[meghansaint]

✨ I wrote a book. It’s a little funny, a little devastating, and probably too honest.

Through (dis)Honest Eyes is a dark romantic comedy about burnout, betrayal, and the blurred line between being seen and being exposed. If you’ve ever cried in your car, fallen in love with the wrong person, or tried to fix yourself into someone likable—this one’s for you.

I’m self-publishing this fall, and I’m running a Kickstarter to fund the final production (editing, formatting, printing, the works). If you want to read it, support it, or just quietly cheer from the shadows—you can join the Kickstarter notification list here:

👉 Kickstarter Pre-Launch Page

You can also read the first three chapters now:

📖 Read them here

There will be:

📕 Signed & annotated editions

📚 Bookmarks with unhinged quotes

💔 Vinyl stickers full of emotional damage

💌 Your name in the acknowledgements

(And probably my tears, but I promise not to charge extra for those.)

[an-ruraiocht]

Ballet, like opera, is wonderful because it is monstrous, the hyper-development of skills nobody needs, a twisting of human bodies and souls into impossible positions, the purchase of light with blood.

Irina Dumitrescu, "Swan, Late: The unexpected joys of adult beginner ballet."

[haveacupofjohanny]

Celebrating Success: Mrs. Franchy's Evil Ring in the Kentucky Indie Collection

I’m absolutely thrilled to share some fantastic news with you all in today’s writing update. Just last week, I received an email that truly made my heart soar—a notification that my book, Mrs. Franchy’s Evil Ring, has been accepted into the Kentucky Indie Collection for Biblioboard. This recognition is not just a milestone for the book itself but a personal triumph that feels like a warm embrace…

[purrassicjet]

After the events of Junior Year, Fig releases a single called "Complicated". It baffles Cig Figs fans because there was no announcement, just a quiet release. It's also very different from her usual stuff, with a more folksy vibe and only one instrument, an acoustic guitar. It's clear Fig is singing, but she's never been known to play an acoustic guitar.

The song sings of being a teenage adventurer in a world much bigger than yourself, of older men and broken dreams, of mothers and daughters, of betrayal and of new life. Another voice joins Fig's for the last chorus ("I don't want to be perfect, I just want to be complicated" (which is changed from the usual words "I wanna be perfect, but it's all so complicated")), but nobody can figure out who it is.

Fig isn't making it easier to figure out. She never plays the song live, and when asked about who the mysterious other people (the guitarist and the second vocalist) are, she just waves it off with a laugh and says that said person would rather remain anonymous.

It continues to confuse fans until one night, around the middle of Fig's set at a big concert, she tells the crowd that she's going to be doing something new, something she's never done live before.

The crowd waits in anticipation as Sandra Lynn shuffles on stage, holding a beat up old acoustic guitar, covered in paint and hand prints from her Aguefort adventuring party.

Fig introduces her mother, the inspiration for the song, and both the guitarist and the second vocalist.

And for the first time ever, "Complicated" is played live

[humanjarvis]

it's nice to have a friend

big glasses and a bowl cut. 

for the bulk of his short life, that was all anyone saw when they looked at zayne.

no one knew much about him, other than how annoying it was when the teachers praised his intelligence. more than a classmate, he was a goalpost. a standard they couldn’t meet. 

more often than not, his head was buried in a book. he found it much more worthwhile to study people than to speak to them. so he hid in the shade, away from the constant chatter and blistering heat of recess.

that day in september, he’d been too busy absorbing neatly stacked paragraphs to process the muffled voice above him—until you lightly shook his shoulder. 

you’d asked him if he wanted to play. they’d said it was his birthday, after all. but after a long pause and bewildered blush, zayne said no. 

the first three times you asked him, zayne said no.

his answer changed when the leaves did. 

in the brisk november air, pushed forward by a gust of wind, he bumped into a rowdy group of older kids. apparently, his murmured apology hadn’t been good enough. 

first, they threatened to snap his glasses. shatter the lenses so he couldn’t read anymore.

the wicked sneers and guesses that he was special came after. 

through it all, zayne hadn't said a word—he didn't have to. 

because before he could decide whether to tell a teacher or walk away, you were blocking him from view as best you could with your shorter frame, glaring at the boys with molten hatred in your heart. 

and when their leader snorted and took a step toward you both, you unclenched your fist and scratched him right across the face. 

zayne had never been one for violence. his parents told him it never solved anything, and he’d always seen more value in helping people than hurting them. 

but the next time you asked him to play, he nodded his head yes.

he was surprisingly good at make-believe—the doctor to your nurse. and when you invited him back the next day, and the next day, and the day after that, zayne felt he’d made his first friend. 

adult zayne still gets teased, sometimes. 

for the way he speaks like a nonfiction narrator. for the way he retreats from interactions and rejects invitations. for the way he’s hard to read unless you’re fluent in the language of him.

but with you by his side, he’s learned to pay it no mind. 

you like his cadence and his reticence and his rigid kind of softness. you tell him all of it, so he doesn’t have to wonder.

and when the crueler slights wear down the barrier you’ve helped him build, you repeat yourself. 

day after day, you save him. just like you did on the playground. 

so when zayne finds himself in linkon’s finest jewelry store, browsing through shimmering stones he never thought he’d have a need for, he knows one thing for certain: his first friend is his best. 

[loveletterworm]

This drawing isn't very literal...cuz that wouldn't really make any sense at all...

[lyxchen]

I'M SORRY did they give Maxine ocd?? (not angry, more like just really surprised) like the light switch and then the "Wrong. Everyone I love will die" and having to flip the light switch again, like that's intrusive thought + compulsion. Was this intentional? Are the writers aware that this is an ocd thing???

[leonardcohenofficial]

the two biggest pieces of advice that i would express to anyone thinking about grad school are

1) do not pay for grad school. i am dead serious on this one. this was the number one thing every single professor i had in undergrad expressed to me. going to a grad school that doesn’t offer tuition remission or teaching or any type of funding so you can complete the work you need to do is not worth going into debt for don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it because—

2) besides the obvious (the degree) grad school offer you two things (ideally they offer both); training or access. by training i mean rigorous high level hands on practice honing your skills in your chosen field; by access i mean connection to people/institutions/funding to help support whatever work or research you’re doing. (i think that at least in the arts broadly speaking, it is easier to find training than it is to gain access.) i think it’s extremely important to weigh out what you’re getting out of a specific program and decide not only what is more important to you but also what opportunities a school is offering you

[raplinenthusiasts]

memories 📸

[stealingyourbones]

Peter Parker dimension travels to Metropolis. Not MCU Peter, but 616 late 20s Peter Parker who can forge his identity and works for Lex Corp, initially not realizing it’s a bad company, but when he does he continues working for them to slowly yet surely make plans to expose and dismantle the company.

[daisywords]

writing is so silly because you have to maintain the understanding that you're not more specialer than anyone else and your work needs improvement and you have more to learn. but also you have to fully believe that your stuff is amazing. mindblowing. masterpiece the likes of which no one has ever seen before. you really have to hold these contradictory beliefs next to each other and force them to play nice. it's like shoving your shoulder angel and devil into a "get-along shirt." It doesn't make any sense. But if you don't, you're not going to get anywhere

You have to pursue what your writing Could Be with dogged determination while unflinchingly perceiving what it Actually Is. You have to accept that you're not more deserving or likely to succeed than any other writer, but you also have to love and honor and cling to your own specific mad genius because no one else is going to do it for you. Writing is really hard and it's also really worth it.

[bunnieswithknives]

OH MY GOD??? HAS IT SERIOUSLY BEEN A MONTH????? I am so sorry guys

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[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[jomeimei421]

Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙