#pip writes things

[tookishcombeferre]

when i made you, i dreamed a different world one full of dance steps, and jump lefts, step rights, and party all nights. i dreamed dreams of victorious toasts to freedom. i dreamed you would be safe. i dreamed dreams of your being and becoming. i did not dream this dream in times gone by. i did not dream of tigers prowling the oval office, i did not dream of them tearing dreams to shame, if i could, i'd let you hold forever the feeling of being alive. the way your eyes light up as you bounce on the balls of your feet, or you twirl in graceful circles around me. this is the dream i'd keep for you in days gone by. i am one part barricade boy, and the other redemption arc. i am one part villian, and the other hero's spark. i am one part rebel, and the other soft at heart. as i hold you close, and see the tales unfold i hold your tiny hands in mine and make promises: princess, i will teach you to shout "no" clearly, teach you to march until your feet blister, teach you that sometimes rebellion is the answer, because not every story starts with benevolent kings. and, if i cast my spell slots right, dream my dreams anew, your tables will be full - and your friends will sing, sing their simple songs ... forevermore.

i dreamed a dream of your being; or a poem for my child in hopes that they might have peace - p.s. shuller

[tookishcombeferre]

I wrote an entire forward at the beginning of my poetry book specifically stating that AI didn’t write my book because I’m autistic and fully expected people to believe that AI wrote my poetry because I’m autistic.

[myosotis--sylvatica]

Every single time I reread A Study in Scarlet I am startled when halfway through it becomes deeply inaccurate america fanfiction. Like Holmes reveals the murderer and immediately the next chapter is waxing poetic about the harsh, barren landscape of the western (??) US.

One cannot truly forget the Murder Mormons, but I always put it out of my mind for long enough that the switch jumpscares me.

[evermorepeyton]

i didnt even know what to screenshot from this chapter (it’s different from the others so im sorry, but i felt it was important to the story)

anyway, chapter 14 of my dnp F1 au fic is up 🏎️🏎️🏎️🤍🤍🤍✨

[pastafossa]

Internet: so there's a MARVEL TAROT DECK COMING SOON Me: YESSSS, so can I see a lil of the inside before pre-ordering? Internet: ...it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: you mean... I can't even see inside? What type of art is it? Internet: it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: that answers nothing Internet: all you need to know is it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: do you have ANYTHING to say besides 'it's a marvel tarot deck'? Internet: ...it's a- Me: just sit down, jfc

[tookishcombeferre]

I (almost always) check my fics to make sure they read well both on the computer and on mobile. If a character goes on an rant that looks really, really obscenely terrible on mobile (Alphys), it was on purpose.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

WHO IS USING THIS

AN APP??? THEY HAVE A FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

THE LAST FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

[tookishcombeferre]

Kay, so I have, in fact, still been writing fic. However, my brain has been pea soup because my meds have been all sorts of delayed to my pharmacy. So, strap yourselves in because I've been thinking, and that has once been called a dangerous pastime. Y'all know. A line I recently wrote for a prequel fic I'm working on to "In the Flares of the Sun" is this: "Cedric is an adult who deserves far more in life than to rely solely on the companionship of a child and a bird for his flourishing and development. Yet, somewhere along the line, someone decided that he should be grateful for any scrap of affection the world threw his way." (This is Miranda speaking btw. Generally, she and Cedric are the closest you're going to hear to "me," the author, talking when you're reading my fics.) Now, in fandom, we rightly talk a lot about how, through Sofia's kindness, Cedric found redemption. However, like ... that had to be kind of hard? Part of the reason I think his redemption is so non-linear is because everytime Sofia tried to give him a hand up Roland, or someone else, tried to punch him down. It's been commonly said that for every ONE negative comment we receive as human beings we need FIVE positive comments to counteract it. Lets ... Lets just think about that. If we assume by the "Day of the Sorcerers" Cedric is somewhere between 39, on the young end, and 42, on the old end, and at the time of "The Incident" he was 6, on the young end, and 9, on the old end. That's something like ... what almost 3+ decades of KINGDOMS worth of negativity that then ONE child is trying to counteract? So, like, yeah, Sofia is awesome. Full stop. She's amazing! But, Cedric needs SOME credit in accepting what she offers him. The fact that he does accept what Sofia offers to him, and readily, speaks to a SINCERE amount of intrinsic goodness IN HIM. I'm amazed that this character isn't full and complete Horned King or Maleficent levels of evil! He still has compassion left in him. He still has a heart. He still HAS goodness left to BE fostered. He is not, at all, heartless. He. Still. Loves. THAT is impressive. THAT takes guts. I just started my second rewatch with my kid. And, what has struck me on round 2, is just how ready he is to accept Sofia's kindness even in episode 3. I LOVE that it doesn't stick because that's real. However, to me, what that really foreshadows well is the finale. Sofia facing off Vor? Cedric's already done that. WITHIN HIMSELF. He has looked in the mirror every. single. day. and fought himself. The creators actually did, I think, a great job of setting up, subtly, what that final battle was going to be about though subtext. In that final battle, the subtext just becomes main text. Sofia's foil has already been battling apathy, despair, loneliness, and villainy within himself the whole darn series. In the finale, we just get to see that same fight externalized between the living personification of the evil perspective. Vor is what happens when you - as is literally done by Prisma - bring all the pieces of Disney villains together. There may have been some pieces of Disney villains in Cedric's character design. But, not in his heart. Not in personality. Vor IS the literal pieces, the TOOLS, of the past villians. She IS evil. Further, what I love about this, is that this means Sofia isn't alone in what she has done in the finale. She isn't the only character who has looked evil in the face and won. She doesn't have to be alone. My major issue with the Protector story arc is how much responsibility Sofia is forced to take on at such a young age. (I am SO team Miranda on this one.) However, at least in this case, Sofia has a mentor who did the hard thing first. Cedric has full and total empathy for how hard it is to look at the living embodiment of villainy and face it off with kindness - Sofia's kindness. Because, that's what Cedric had to do in the mirror for years with himself until he made the final choice to choose goodness. And, you know what? I think that's really heroic and admirable.

[outsiderempire]

yo, idek where im taking this chapter yet but i am loving the progression thus far.

[tookishcombeferre]

I can't tell you how many iterations of the "how the story is told" I've done of my novels before I write them.

I started with the concept of a series of books when I was SEVENTEEN. I re-conceptualized the ENTIRE SERIES when I turned TWENTY. I am now TWENTY-NINE.

I have three of four books OUTLINED. I have SOME of the scenes in those three books drafted.

I have RE-OUTLINED ONE. BOOK. ONE. BOOK! about FOUR times in the last NINE years. It has changed format, narrator, and style THREE times before I even started DRAFTING and OUTLINING it!

The series went from a trilogy to a quartet this past year due to an unforeseen plot hole. The order in which the books appear has been changed MULTIPLE times for *reasons.*

Each book in the series has its own unique narrative style and technique. I've done *endless* hours of research on things ranging from American government and politics to the French sewer system (Thanks Victor Hugo for being a bro) to the punk movement of the late 70s (think like David Bowie and RHPS), and, my current bing, queer trans movements from the 70s to now. (The last two are kinda linked up a little.)

[I promise this is somehow relevant to a dystopian novel.]

But, like, there's a reason this has taken nine *real* years of work. The amount of research to make this whole thing reasonably realistic has been INTENSE! Besides that, dystopias need a *direction.* It took me at least three or four years to figure out which direction I wanted it to go. Because, as much as you sometimes want to write the book to end all books, you can't write everything. There's a lot of representation in the books of a lot of different groups, but I needed to figure out who my audience was going to be and what I was really trying to say before I could write the story effectively.

That, that right there, is something AI cannot do! That's what we mean when we say "the WORK is everything." Writing is WORK. It's reflecting on your life and figuring out how to translate that into either non-fiction or crafting fiction that explains something about what you've learned by living your life.

Like, I suppose, someday, someone could program the ins and outs of crafting styles into a computer. But, the heart of choice would never be in it. To a computer, everything is a numbers game.

To me, it's a heart thing.

This plot point needs to happen because the audience needs to know that this object is safe. This conversation needs to happen because it's meaningful to both characters. This character needs to attend this event because it would bring them catharsis. This event needs to be written in this way as a prologue because it makes more sense and sets up something for the readers later to help with cross referencing AND because it's going to feel more poignant.

"The WORK is everything!"

The allure of AI entices those people who fetishize ideas but dismiss the work. They're the people who tell writers, "I'll give you the idea, then you write it, and we'll split the profits." For them, the vision is everything, and the work is just an annoying obstacle. But the WORK is everything. The work is how a thing happens, where it's made, where skill is put to work. AI in creativity is for the people who have no skill, no work, no effort, no ethic. They just want to push a button.

– Chuck Wendig

[lumiidragon]

Pip, the horrible alien boy.

Pip is new to Skool and due to their shared interest in ghosts, cryptids, and aliens, he and Dib end up becoming good friends. The two end up joining forces to stop Zim, but in a terrible event after breaking into Zim's secret base, an accident gone wrong leaves a hideous side-effect for Pip: being turned into an irken.

Stuck between trying to keep his secret with the help of Dib or having to rely on his new enemy Zim for possible help to be turned back, Pip is struggling to ensure his future. He also likes writing stuff in his journal. Sweet, sweet journal.

[pipperoo]

and the wip i claimed i had no time for has grown to 5.5k words and it’s still not done yet

[tookishcombeferre]

This is the first time you have ever been called "son."

From the moment of your birth, it has been a world of pink blankets, long skirts, and braided hair that you have never had any choice in.

When you fled, you took so little with you except the hope of becoming a scholar. The megar education you scraped together with hours you had in the last light of the setting sun to study and memorize spells.

You had so hoped to join a bard or wizard's college someday to study something of use. You wanted to learn things. You wanted to add things to the world. You wanted to expand the knowledge that existed, and you wanted to create. You wanted to make wards so powerful that no one could be harmed as you had been harmed again.

Yet, no one ever protected you.

You were always something invisible and and unseen.

So, when you were cast away? It was almost a blessing.

You stopped at the outskirts of town and shore off your hair.

The next town over, you traded in your skirt for a pair of worn breeches.

Then, you walked mile after mile after mile until you could walk no further.

You would become a hermit. You would study. You would learn. Even if you taught yourself on a mountain top like the First Wizards to ever learn magic. You would learn.

You stumbled upon this place.

You did not know her.

But, the Goddess had a kind face in her cracked statue.

Her eyes were warm, like the grandmother who once said she knew everything. The one who let you climb trees and mended your stockings before anyone saw the tatters.

So, last night, you took her in your heart as your mother, like the grandmother you once knew.

And, here she is, and she calls you "her son."

You lay your chin her outstretched hand, and she holds your face and looks in your eyes.

Her face is home. She smells like fresh washed linens and lilacs. She is the light of the dawn just after the darkest hour of night.

She drops your chin, and she allows you to come up to her shoulder, and you are weeping because these are new words spoken over you in a voice that is so soft and unlike anything you have heard before.

It is the voice of a mother who is holding her infant for the first time. A little dry with the rasp of dehydration, but so loving and warm.

There is a sudden realization, as she draws you in, that home is her arms.

You would do anything for her. You would move the sun, moon, and stars for her. You would give anything for this Goddess if she asked.

"My son, what would make you happy? For no one has come to worship here for a long time, and you have made me very happy by being so sincere in your prayer?" She says, stroking your hair gently.

"To create new knowledge in the world. I want to study, to know, and to protect. I want to do something with my life." You reply.

She laughs lightly as she draws you to look at her.

"So, it shall be." She replies.

And, she kisses your forehead and hands you an empty journal.

"For your spells, so that I may know them. Someone must watch over you. It is a harsh world out there for you and yours. If you meet them, send them to me. For, I want to love all the hidden ones." She replies.

Being a paladin and a scholar was never part of your plans, but it suits you. She is your mother. You do not want to disappoint her.

She is the first one to ever call you her "son."

Cast out by your family, disowned by your mom, you are alone in the world. You stumble into the abandoned temple of a Goddess and in your heart, adopt her as your mother. You wake up the next morning to her leaning over you. "Welcome home, my son."

[knightinink]

Damien: “Oh yeah, I’d kill for a box of cheezits”

Pip: “…What are cheezits?”

Damien: “…”

Damien: “HAVE YOU NEVER HAD CHEEZITS???”

Pip: “No?”

Damien: “Oh we’re getting you some cheezits right now, c’mon!!!”

@piplicious is this also a part of their play date

[someonedefinitely]

that one half finished post-agad fic rotting in my google docs in which pip and Ravi finally met again

[little-pup-pip]

Hi there! I just wanted to ask, do you take character themed moodboard requests?:0

Yes I do!! They're all throughout my three general request links and I have an entirely different link for character caregivers!

[tookishcombeferre]

I’m writing an entire half a chapbook of poetry about this.

Damn you Toby! Making my trans ass feel things again.

i can't believe deltarune mettaton. he is depressed and self-conscious and quiet and anxious and he hates the way he looks and he won't come out of his room and he wants us to bring him "anything entertaining" presumably so he can escape from his unhappy situation and he doesn't know alphys. he doesn't fucking know alphys. they are best friends in one world and perfect strangers in another. she isn't there to build him his perfect body and even if she was she couldn't because she's not a scientist she has no tools or equipment or funding and maybe not even the know-how since she's just a high school teacher. and yet he's more like undertale alphys than deltarune alphys could ever be. he hates the way he looks and his true name probably isn't known to anyone maybe not even himself and either way why would a ghost call himself mettaton? that sounds like a robot's name! so he sits at home stuck inside paces in circles with his equally unhappy, equally self-conscious cousin who has the same problem with her body as him but who would never dare talk about it with him and he sits and he listens to her yell and he sings. and he sings. and he has a beautiful voice. in undertale napstablook stews in their loneliness and self-hate and depression by singing their little ghouliday songs and in deltarune their cousin is the one doing that very thing. and the froggit can hear him. and it thinks he has a beautiful voice. a ghost lives there. a ghost lives there, a ghost in the figurative sense as well as the literal.