#was in a writing mood

[terebellumboy]

"i'm not even doing anything!"

"maybe that's the problem."

[my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom]

I am fighting in ways very small, unnoticeable to those so tall. Caught up in castles and revolutions ignore my restitution. My body back to my soul as I scream and cry, because I will be alive. I will show you each word that marks my skin as I treat the world as kin. Those words burned in by people good at heart but also strangely good at throwing darts. I will try and fight every day in small and simple ways, grow a garden, expand some hearts, keep those who hurt far apart. For I am not brave, I am not strong, yet I do not belong. I truly wish I could do more, but luckily redemption has no door. So I fight to prove those words upon my skin never meant a thing.

I would rather die than just survive and so I fight.

[oatmilk-vampire]

Always the writer, never the reader.

[char-writes]

Daydreaming about my book:

Writing my book:

[neo--queen--serenity]

the man with a plan

[selenekallanwriter]

Person: What's your book about?

Writers:

I'm both somehow 🙃

[morbidmiracle]

me writing: i am a god and reality bends to my whims

me proofreading: im too stupid to be alive

[khajiithaswitchywares]

Go hiking. Fake your death. Become one with the forest. Elevate to forest god. The simple things.

[dxckgrxsonx]

mhm. thinking of you having eyes too big for your cunt.

meeting jason as a one off little hook up because you’re bored and want a decent fuck for once and him immediately warning you that he’s big. bigger than he thinks you can handle and you taking it as an immediate challenge. all cocky and adamant than you can take him, “im a big girl, hood. ill be able to fuck myself on your cock for fun.” and “just because others can’t take your dick doesn’t mean i can’t. you can’t be that fucking big.”

being forced to eat your own stupid words when he barely sinks the tip into your soft little pussy and you start fucking whining, gasping little breaths as he stretches you open. face scrunched up in a wince, teeth pressed together as your pussy tries to force him out.

jason’s voice knocking up a pitch in response, a knowing drawl making his mouth start watering. tone all mocking and condescending, “poor baby, can’t even take the tip before tapping out.” and “what happened to you? why’re you crying? i thought you said you could take me?”

sniffling and trying to control your tears as he keeps sinking more and more into your cunt, the stretch hurting so bad your legs tremble. jason cooing, kissing you so deeply it’s dizzying and leaving you half in love. all whilst telling you how good you’re being for him and holding you open by the backs of your knees so you can’t close your legs, all to watch your poor pussy weep and struggle to swallow him up.

it turns him on so bad to feel you clench so goddamn tightly around his cock he can hardly move. your voice wobbling and hitching when he pulls back only to push back forward and nudge himself that little bit deeper.

you cry and cry but you’re so wet it’s almost disgusting and jason decides there and then that he’s never letting you go.

[writing-ro]

No plan (fic outline) ever survives contact with the enemy (the word doc page).

[reactionimagesdaily]

[saduboiss]

sometimes I just get so sick and tired of fighting just to survive.

[mournfulroses]

Frida Kahlo, from a letter wr. c. November 1933, featured in The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas

[erraticprocrastinator]

A reminder to all my lovely fellow writers: progress is progress, even when it isn't. Writing four thousand words in a session is progress. Writing a hundred words in a session is progress. Removing an entire scene because it doesn't flow well is progress. Rethinking your plan for the plot in order to get unstuck is progress. Development looks different for every writer and every story.

[multimemes]

[my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom]

I find that life is like a dance. At moments it all falls together, and you seem to be in a perfect off-beat sync with your ‘partner.’ At others you just can’t seem to ever get it right. You screw up time and time again and others manage to seem just so graceful. Most of the time you can manage to perfect it, others you’ll never master. You just have to call it quits. Sometimes you realize you’ve just been doing the wrong dance you’re whole life, trying to force yourself in a style that will never feel natural. Looking at others it feels as though they are doing it far better than you ever could, achieving things you never will. Sometimes those people are instead pushing themselves too far, until their bodies can protest no longer and break. They’ll tire from the game and stop long before they should’ve, people will say that they could’ve stopped anytime, that they should’ve. But you heard the words they whispered, whispered a few yourself, know that everyone’s a liar. And that’s the harsh truth, even if you push yourself until your body breaks, you will never reach the heights of some who can do what you never could without breaking a sweat. But that’s irrelevant, because for now you are in a dance with life, and the world around, the whispers, are nothing more than a sound muddling the music. Because you are in a dance with life. Do not let yourself tire of life before life tires of you.