#writing emotions through prose

[dreamsy990]

hi i wanted to draw my own au so have a snippet of scene i rewrote like 12 times and will likely rewrite again

[mythboundcal]

The Sea Forgets Slowly One Piece Fanfic by MythboundCal

It’s a windless day. The Thousand Sunny barely sways. The kind of quiet that only happens between islands—between battles.

Nami sits with her legs dangling off the deck. A glass of orange juice sweats in her hand. Beside her, Robin’s book is closed. She hasn’t opened it in an hour.

Neither of them says anything for a long time.

“It’s strange,” Nami says, finally. “You can sail for days and still feel like you’re not getting anywhere.”

Robin hums. “Sometimes that’s the point.”

The sun is soft today. Not lazy—just gentle, like it knows they need room to breathe.

“There’s this place on my old map,” Nami continues. “I used to call it the Nowhere Zone. No winds. No waves. I thought it was cursed. But now…”

She trails off.

Robin doesn’t push. She never does. She just waits—like tide on rock.

“I think maybe it was a place for people like us. The ones who lost too much too fast. Who needed the sea to stop moving so we could catch up.”

Robin smiles, small. Sad. True.

“I never mapped that place,” Nami says. “But I think we’re in it now.”

Robin looks out at the glassy water, her voice softer than the breeze. “The sea forgets slowly,” she says. “But it never forgets completely.”

They sit like that for a while. Two women stitched with old pain, breathing in silence like it’s a prayer.

And somewhere in the distance, the wind stirs—just a little. Not enough to move the ship.

But enough to remind them it still could.

---

A/N: I wrote “The Sea Forgets Slowly” because I think grief in the One Piece world is often loud—explosive, heroic, full of tears and flames. But grief can also be quiet. It can sit with you for days at sea, just like someone who understands without asking questions. I wanted to give Nami and Robin that kind of silence. That kind of breath. A moment between islands, where nothing has to happen—and that’s what makes it healing.

For anyone still carrying something heavy: this one’s for you.

– Cal 🦋✨

[prosecoloredglasses]

You said,

I trust you—

to handle this

to handle me

So I trusted you too

trusted you

to handle me

gently

Instead

you dropped me

Then couldn’t understand why

I was on the ground

[vivsinkpot]

Original Writing: My First Friend

Twenty years, a threadbare ear,

Five houses changed, but you stayed near.

Four breakups, quiet in my arms,

You held me through love’s false alarms.

Mum’s last smile, a softened light—

You caught my tears that winter night.

Sleepovers filled with whispered fears,

And every holiday, through the years.

You saw me cry when no one knew,

You braved the dark when I needed you.

A world on pause, masks and dread—

You curled beside me on my bed.

From girlhood’s dreams to woman’s name,

Through every shift, you stayed the same.

A silent soul, a stitched-up seam,

You kept me close, you held the dream.

Every moment. Every start.

You are the keeper of my heart.

About that “20 years, 5 houses, 4 breakups” tiktok trend — and why i wrote this poem

there’s this viral tiktok trend where people list out milestones in their lives like:

“20 years

5 houses

3 schools

4 breakups”

and it’s always paired with something meaningful — a person, a place, an object — that’s been with them through it all.

what makes it so powerful is how those simple numbers distill a whole lifetime of memories, change, and emotion into just a few words. it’s like a poetic snapshot of everything that’s shaped us, from loss to love to growth.

so i wrote my poem inspired by that, but i wanted to go deeper. instead of just listing facts, i wanted to feel those moments — the tears, the holidays, the quiet nights — through the lens of my very first teddy bear.

this teddy isn’t just a toy. it’s a witness to every step i’ve taken from childhood to becoming a woman, holding pieces of my story stitched into its fur.

turning numbers into emotion — that’s what i aimed for. it’s a tribute to resilience, memory, and the small, constant things that hold us together.

every moment, every start.

[kitttcatalyst]

https://kickstarter.com/projects/your-link-goes-here?tumblr-main

📚 The Hollowlight — A Queer Mythpunk Fantasy Novel (Kickstarter LIVE!)

✨ Written by @kittycatalyst (Krystin Myers) 🩸 Queer grief. Sacred rot. Broken boys who won't stay broken. 🧠 Autistic trauma-core fantasy with gorgeous prose and too many knives.

“You don’t haunt the place that loved you. You haunt the place that let you rot.”

📖 The Hollowlight is my debut indie novel: 138,000 words of divine corruption, haunted gods, soul-bonded disaster boys, and survival through grief and rage.

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💬 Reblogs = visibility. Backers = life. I love you. Let's haunt something beautiful.

[sino--69]

I don't have anything...

Like okay maybe sure i do have 11k ish words written in my notepad

But explaining all the context and everything... And the fear of posting itself.

Why do i want to post?

Isn't it okay for it to stay in there.

Why do i not want to post?

Isn't it okay to not post. Isn't it okay to not show up?

Why must i prove myself.

Maybe im just tired.

And maybe that's okay. Not just "for a day" or "Until its time". Sure. The time will come. But the anticipation kills me.

Maybe it's fine to be tired.

Summer holidays are about to end. The world keeps moving. I don't make much of a change but, this isn't about nihilism. Maybe because nothing matters, i am free to choose how i do it, because—

What am i sacrificing my sanity for?

To show up? So that i can get a goodie on my to-do list? Which will anyhow reset the next day? When do i ever get to cash in the wins?

Why can't i just be?

Stare at the wall, the skies, listen to music, exist, breathe, not worry, not panic, not stress out, not achieve, not try to prove my worth to a non-existent meter of "what will finally make me happy"

What am i scared of?

The silence that comes when u stop? The thoughts that come up when you stop fucking thinking all the time? That maybe, just maybe, your legs hurt and you've been walking for too long? That maybe you may not get what you want and that it's okay?

That its okay to just pause? To just be?

That you need not prove your worth, because you're already worthy?

Am i scared of what comes next? The "if I'm worthy, then what?".

Then you live...

Exhale, a breath you never knew u were holding in.

Drop your shoulders, sit down, and maybe look back, maybe smile, maybe wonder

"Maybe it's not laziness. Maybe i just need it. Maybe i deserve it."

And finally remember. That you're

You.

Not your achievements or your failures, not your past or your future. Not even your thoughts.

You're the one that witnesses...

[prettylittleskyars]

Too Late

You know what's strange?

I've never been someone’s first choice.

Never the one they opened the door for.

I was always just outside—so close I could hear the laughter,

feel the warmth through the cracks.

But not close enough to be let in.

I always arrive late.

Too late for love.

Too late for space in their heart.

By the time I get there,

someone else has already unpacked their memories,

left their scent in the sheets,

written their name on the walls.

And me?

I just stand there,

holding all this love

with nowhere to put it.

Maybe if I looked like her.

Smiled like her.

Maybe if I reminded them of something familiar,

something already loved—

they would have made space for me.

But I’m not her.

And because of that,

no matter how softly I knock,

the door stays shut.

Every time,

I get to their heart

just a little too late.

And they never wait for me.

Vishakha Kallani

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Haunted by the possibilities of a novel in verse.

[abimee]

For what it's worth, I've been following you for a few years and I do think your skills as an artist have grown. You've seem to get more confident in the way you build the human body and face, your coloring has gotten more complex, and in general I feel like I've watched you settle more and more into a defined and unique art style.

I know it can be frustrating to not see the growth or changes you want but it does break my heart to see you be so harsh on yourself. I think you're genuinely extremely skilled and I always looked up to you as an artist, even when I was going through art school myself. I feel like you have a way of capturing people that's just so emotional and lovely and I want to see more of it in my own art, though I've been struggling to capture the same vibes too...

It's also never too late to pick up or try out something new, to find new skills or return to old ones. I loved the fics you posted, your prose is wonderful, and the way you speak about your characters is so thoughtful. It does hurt to feel like you've lost out on the time to do something, but please don't give up completely. I think you have a lot of genuine skill and talent and it'd be lovely to see you take it in any direction. Regardless of where the future takes you, I hope you have a nice day.

THANK YOU.... THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME TO HEAR.....

ive been like, trying to mull it over in my head because sometimes what i think is one way might sometimes morph into another and idk i dont think its its a dislike for my own art but like a sort of external critic ive decided to consume thats trying to sway me one way. i hate to be like ''the support i got on my art when i was younger was sort of really bad for me'' but maybe the years of being pushed To be an artist by adults and people around me saying they like my art only when its X or Y thing has like made me prey to feeling like im drawing not for myself. like i failed the expectations put on me and i dont have the chance to ''re-do''

maybe i just need to like reconsider what i like drawing or try smthn new that isnt like. hinged on this idea in my head that i need to keep peoples attention or what support i have because like. thats another fear is always like ''what if all these people who say they like my art one day just stop and im left alone'' but thats a different plate of cookies for a different glass of milk. i think i just need to figure out what I personally want out of my art and stop hinging everything on years-old circumstances

but then at the same time i dont really have any idea what i would want to do differently, i really like what i draw now but idk maybe theres something else for me in some way. i think im worried of just alienating people so used to one thing from me that changing that will just feel wrong. not really in like art style or anything but just like What i draw. i feel like ive always kept to the same concepts and ideas and imagrey that changing it will be strange or worse. but maybe i do just have to make that chance and not be so scared 😞

[dividedskylane]

the saddest thing that can happen to me when i'm reading a book is when it turns out to be not good, but with enough moments of brilliance scattered through that i keep reading it — and don't even feel like dismissing it as just plain bad would be fair. sigh

[wickedzeevyln]

Dubstep

˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ Beautiful🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳ I’m not them beautiful peeps, I care about my chances. Plow the fields of paper and harvest every known words. Pour them into a bowl and toss them. I’m not them beautiful peeps. I count to the last cent. Hold on to a gasping minute. I keep a mantra—free or forever wait. Chuckle to your heart’s content, dribble your eyes like Allen Iverson, sneer like a llama at…

[sublime-courage]

Jack and the Beanstalk

Jack and the beanstalk. Jack went out to sell a cow Ended up high on some magical beans High as a cloud He never comes down Jack the legend Adventure video game hero slaying dragons Staying one step ahead of the goblins chasing him Collecting coins  Doing somersaults off vines Jack five years old on the streets of oakland watched his father get shot six times in the chest and one in the…

[rhiyans-writing]

The Laundry Room

[xyywrites]

Overused Words in Writing & How to Avoid Them

We’ve all got our comfort words—those trusty adjectives, verbs, or phrases we lean on like a crutch. But when certain words show up too often, they lose their impact, leaving your writing feeling repetitive or uninspired.

1. “Very” and Its Cousins

Why It’s Overused: It’s easy to tack on “very” for emphasis, but it’s vague and doesn’t pull its weight.

Instead of: “She was very tired.” Try: “She was exhausted.” / “She dragged her feet like lead weights.”

💡 Tip: Use precise, vivid descriptions rather than vague intensifiers.

2. “Looked” and “Saw”

Why It’s Overused: It’s functional but flat, and it often tells instead of shows.

Instead of: “He looked at her in disbelief.” Try: “His eyebrows shot up, his lips parting as if words had failed him.”

💡 Tip: Focus on body language or sensory details instead of relying on generic verbs.

3. “Suddenly”

Why It’s Overused: It’s often used to create surprise, but it tells readers how to feel instead of letting the scene deliver the shock.

Instead of: “Suddenly, the door slammed shut.” Try: “The door slammed shut, the sound ricocheting through the empty room.”

💡 Tip: Let the action or pacing create urgency without needing to announce it.

4. “Said” (When Overdone or Misused)

Why It’s Overused: While “said” is often invisible and functional, using it in every dialogue tag can feel robotic.

Instead of: “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Me neither,” he said. Try: Replace with an action: “I can’t believe it.” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing. “Me neither.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

💡 Tip: Don’t ditch “said” entirely; just mix it up with context clues or action beats.

5. “Felt”

Why It’s Overused: It’s a shortcut that tells instead of showing emotions.

Instead of: “She felt nervous.” Try: “Her palms slicked with sweat, and she couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing.”

💡 Tip: Let readers infer emotions through sensory details or behavior.

6. “Really” and “Actually”

Why It’s Overused: They add little to your sentences and can dilute the impact of stronger words.

Instead of: “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Try: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

💡 Tip: If a sentence works without these words, cut them.

7. “Walked” or “Ran”

Why It’s Overused: These are go-to movement words, but they can feel bland when used repeatedly.

Instead of: “He walked into the room.” Try: “He strolled in like he owned the place.” / “He shuffled in, avoiding everyone’s eyes.”

💡 Tip: Use verbs that convey mood, speed, or attitude.

8. “Just”

Why It’s Overused: It sneaks into sentences unnecessarily, weakening your prose.

Instead of: “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Try: “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

💡 Tip: Delete “just” unless it adds essential nuance.

9. “Thought”

Why It’s Overused: It tells readers what a character is thinking instead of showing it through internal dialogue or action.

Instead of: “She thought he might be lying.” Try: “His story didn’t add up. The timelines didn’t match, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.”

💡 Tip: Immerse readers in the character’s perspective without announcing their thoughts.

10. “Nice” and Other Vague Adjectives

Why It’s Overused: It’s generic and doesn’t give readers a clear picture.

Instead of: “He was a nice guy.” Try: “He always remembered her coffee order and held the door open, even when his arms were full.”

💡 Tip: Show qualities through actions instead of relying on vague descriptors.

Final Tips for Avoiding Overused Words:

1. Use a thesaurus wisely: Swap overused words for synonyms, but stay true to your character’s voice and the scene’s tone.

2. Read your work aloud: You’ll catch repetitive patterns and clunky phrases more easily.

3. Edit in layers: Focus on eliminating overused words during your second or third pass, not your first draft.

[isekyaaa]

I’ve been reading Kono Oto Tomare as of late and am having a good time, but it’s getting me thinking about art and the way things of the sort are commonly portrayed in manga. I never understood the idea of emotion or life being portrayed through art and music. I’ve never once heard or seen anything and felt emotion coming through. That being said, I can appreciate a piece. I can see and feel the skill coming across. I can feel the artist’s style. I can see the mechanics. But I can’t see how the way a piece of music is played or the way art is drawn conveys a part of its creator.

I feel I can relate more to music. I can be moved by music. I can sense the mood. I can hear a muddy sound vs a clear one. I can understand style. But at the same time, I don’t think music played by human beings is better than synths. To me it’s not a matter of emotion, but of feel and technical skill. I feel anything can be recreated digitally to sound authentic.

It makes me wonder if I lack something. Am I too focused on technique to be able to feel and see emotion in a piece? Are my eyes and ears not trained enough to sense the intention of the creator? Do I lack the heart to be able to connect?

[jello12451]

Wonder

I’ve laughed for a variety of reasons. Most often, it’s humor - my friend says something funny, an entertaining video pops up on my feed, or I read witty dialogue on my screen. Maybe someone says something out of pocket. Maybe I find myself in an awkward situation.

I’ve never been as fond of laughter like that. Humor is entertaining in the moment, and it’s just that - beyond inside jokes within a group of friends that somehow make their way back over and over again, I could not tell you why I laughed on particular days at particular times. It is, for the most part, unremarkable.

But I could still swear, amid lack of long term memory and the rewriting of time, that once upon a time, our laughter was more than that.

Sometimes, I forget how precious laughter was to us, once. We didn’t have the social knowledge to laugh at jokes or sarcasm, back when everything was new. We didn’t develop enough attachments to spark laughter from fondness or exasperation. We didn’t care enough, yet, to know that something was strange or awkward.

Once upon a time, our laughter stemmed from wonder, and I think it’s a shame that we’ve lost that.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve laughed in wonder in the past five years. And I just don’t understand - why? We’ve never ceased in our capability to wonder at the universe around us. What happened to the joy that used to underpin it?

Even when I’m actively seeking out that precious feeling of joy and wonder I used to feel constantly as a child, I can rarely ever find something that satisfies this. But I think I get it, now: because of all things, the thing that would make us laugh in wonder was magic.

And I think it’s a shame that we’ve lost the feeling of magic being real.

Some things I see on the screen and I really think: wow. That’s magical. I get laughed at, sometimes, for being so easily tricked by onstage methods of creating atmosphere for performances, but I can’t help it - and I see no shame in letting myself be pulled into a magical world when it’s so hard to come by nowadays. It’s easy to focus on what’s hidden and dismiss the magic outright - but there’s joy in being led to believe things, too, if only for just a moment between one breath and the next.

I was at a Chinese supermarket earlier today with my mother and we were looking for groceries. But as the essentials piled up in our cart, I began to notice more and more things my mother added that were not strictly necessary. Things like decorations. Snacks. Comfort food. She tried to convince me to buy a dragon plushie for the New Year’s - I had to tell her that I had entirely too many sitting on my bed already.

This was the first time I could remember pulling my mother away from the candy stall, instead of it being the other way around.

I don’t know what it was. But it’s so hard to happen upon something that gives us the same joy as it did when we were a child nowadays, and as much as it is a shame… I don’t think we have completely lost it. Not yet. And that’s worth celebrating, too.

We do end up buying the candy. It’s sticky and too saccharine sweet, and my mother complains about the supermarket not making it right, but she’s smiling through it all. Eating it with my mother doesn’t feel like a victory, exactly - more like an homage to our past childhood glee.

Enough that somewhere, I can find it in myself to wonder again.