#creative writing Tumblr posts

  • tinsoldierserial
    23.05.2022 - 34 minutes ago

    Tin Soldier 10: A Conversation with Milo

    Tin Soldier is a serialized work about steampunk wizards in substandard housing, which Tumblr is designed to yeet into the void with no context! Hi there! I swear I’m not like Time Cube Guy!

    Content will be rated Teen to Adult, with violence, bad language (including in-character use of slurs), trauma and some very dark stuff. Also, eventually, some funny stuff. Eventually. Licensed under Creative Commons, because I support transformative works. Down with traditional copyright and the conflation of capitalistic value with artistic value!

    (10/229) Short Subjects on an Eye! This installment rates: 1 Pain Star — Fluffy!

    Illustration: Milo holds up a large drafting pad. He has drawn a speech bubble. Inside it are a series of drawings indicating Gears plus Coffee equals A Mechanical Eye.

    Milo adored precise things. Milo adored a lot of things, like clothes and shoes and park benches and happy music. He even liked hugs. But he had difficulty expressing these things when he was Milo. (And hugs were just impossible. Scared the hell out of him.) His love of precision was one to which he could fully surrender himself. He expressed it by purchasing two tablets of paper — one blank and one graphed — a new box of pencils and a large coffee on the way home, and setting himself up in the basement without even letting anyone know he was back. When Hyacinth found him down there, surrounded by various permutations of eyes and gears and magical notation affixed to the walls with soft-stick charms, she felt it necessary to comment.

    “Milo… Milo, people have been making eyes for a long time. I think if we look around enough we can just find some instructions.”

    He shook his head.

    “Honey, I know you like this sort of thing, but it really isn’t necessary.”

    He looked up at her and frowned. He shook his head again. He motioned her to the worktable and tore a blank sheet off the pad. Hyacinth sighed. They were going to have a conversation about this.

    She stood next to him, not looking at him. They both looked at the paper.

    “All right, Milo. Tell me why it’s necessary.”

    Milo drew a nightshirt.

    Hyacinth groaned. “Oh, gods, Milo. Why is it always clothes with you?”

    He ignored her and continued adding detail until she got which nightshirt it was.

    “Okay, that’s Erik. And?”

    He drew a line, start point at the shirt, end point an arrow. This continues. Above it, he made a series of pie charts. He shaded in the first and marked it 45%. The second, 65%. The third, 85%. The fourth, 100%, though he added a question mark to that one.

    “He’s getting better and that’s going to change how he uses it.”

    Milo nodded to that. He drew a quick eye (a round mechanical one, not a scary real one). He pointed from the shirt to the eye, but then back from the eye to the shirt. He did this a couple times.

    “And it’s going to change how it hooks into him.”

    Milo gave her a thumbs up on that one. He was also reasonably certain that having a new eye was going to change how Erik recovered. He wanted to be sure it wasn’t going to harm how Erik recovered. If he wanted to be sure of that, he needed to know what every little bit did, how they interacted with each other and how they were going to interact with him. But that was all a little complicated to draw, and Hyacinth had the basic idea.

    Moving on to the next concept, he drew a cupcake with a candle. He drew another continuum and labeled it 6 through 12. He added a question mark to the 12.

    Hyacinth nodded. The eye might go that long, barring some catastrophe. Indefinitely, with a little luck and good care. “He’s growing up too.” Erik wasn’t some old soldier with a war wound, he was a newly-minted human being in flux. “Okay, Milo. I get it. But can you handle it?”

    He gave her a double thumbs up on that one.

    “Need anything from me?”

    He drew a metal ingot and some tiny gears.

    “Well, yeah, the work. But it looks like that won’t be for a while. Anything else?”

    He drew a clock. He labeled 3, 6, 9 and 12. He drew a paper coffee cup and labeled it 20. He indicated every hour.

    “You want twenty ounces of coffee every hour on the hour? Milo! You’ll have all that but you won’t even take one tranquilizer?”

    He shook his head and offered a shrug. What did that have to do with anything?

    Hyacinth altered the clock. “I’m cutting you off at four PM or else you’re going to need a tranquilizer. And you’re going to sleep at night.”

    He shaded in the expanse of four hours and drew a question mark.

    “Try six.”

    He shuffled his feet and folded his arms across his chest.

    “You wanna throw down with me about what you need for your health, Milo? I will add time.”

    He sighed and nodded.

    “That’s better. You want coffee now?”

    He nodded.

    “All right.”

    The coffee pot was, of course, still missing the strainer, but there was a store that sold coffee about a block down. Not good coffee, but Milo didn’t seem to mind about that.

    She stopped at the stairs and turned, “Hey, wait, Milo. Cream and sugar or what?”

    He mimed adding two spoons and stirring.

    “Gotcha.”

    She was back in the kitchen and taking money out of her purse before she realized she wasn’t going to be able to send Ann.

    The story continues...

    #urban fantasy#web series #writers on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr #fiction#illustration #illustrators on tumblr #fantasy #writers of tumblr #free to read #free to use #literature#creative commons#magic#steampunk#writing #tin soldier serial #anarchist#dramedy
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  • tinsoldierserial
    23.05.2022 - 35 minutes ago

    Tin Soldier 9: Bird Person

    Tin Soldier is a serialized work about steampunk wizards in substandard housing, which Tumblr is designed to yeet into the void with no context! Hi there! I swear I’m not like Time Cube Guy!

    Content will be rated Teen to Adult, with violence, bad language (including in-character use of slurs), trauma and some very dark stuff. Also, eventually, some funny stuff. Eventually. Licensed under Creative Commons, because I support transformative works. Down with traditional copyright and the conflation of capitalistic value with artistic value!

    (9/229) Short Subjects on an Eye! This installment rates: 1 Pain Star — Fluffy!

    Illustration: Maggie is half a bird-creature, with feathers instead of hair on one side. She holds up a medal, proudly.

    Caption: In Bird Culture, We Steal Shit.

    Add 12 oz. canned chicken or tuna for a delightful meal surprise!

    Add 12 oz. ground beef or lamb for a delightful meal surprise!

    Hyacinth looked back and forth between the boxes, holding one in each hand. She had seen boxed noodles and cans of things in the pantry so she had sent Ann to work. Ann had two shows on Sigurd’s Day, and Milo had taken a half shift earlier, and Hyacinth thought that was enough to deal with. It didn’t look like she needed shopping. Now she’d left it until six, and what she had in the pantry was two boxes of mismatched noodles. She needed two boxes to feed the house. The General could eat pigeons, or both she and Maggie might hit up a restaurant, but that left Barnaby and Room 101 and Erik and Mordecai and herself. That was at least a box and a half. Ann might be hungry when she got back too.

    Barnaby and Room 101 could not leave the house. The last time she had taken Barnaby to a restaurant he had bossed his way into the kitchen and began reorganizing the food and the utensils in avant-garde ways (the fresh produce in the oven and the dishes in the refrigerator, for instance). There were more pressing issues with Room 101. Erik was certainly not ready for public display and Mordecai had scarcely been out of his room since his run-in with the police. So, she could leave the General in charge of things here and go shopping or purchase takeout herself, or try to convince the General to go shopping or purchase takeout.

    Or she was going to have to combine Cheesy Broccoli with Spicy Chili for what was truly going to be a meal surprise. She only had the one casserole, and it had to go in the oven. People kept bringing her food and metal and ice but no one thought to bring her a stove. (Not a big one like the one they’d ripped out of here during the siege, she wouldn’t expect that much, but a little one with charcoal or canned heat. That wouldn’t be too much, would it?)

    She found the chalk and prepared to write it on the board: SMALL STOVE. Not that it would help for tonight, but…

    “Miss Hyacinth?” Maggie said.

    “Yeah, hon?” Maybe Mordecai could do something about the noodles, if she could get him out of his room.

    “Erik can’t have his new eye yet, but it’s going to take a long time to make one. Is that right?”

    “Mm-hm.”

    “Gold is best for things because it doesn’t tarnish or rust. Is that right too?”

    “Yep.” That was a bright child. Always picking things up.

    Magnificent laid an enormous soldier’s medal on the kitchen counter in front of her. It was round, flat, and suspended from a striped ribbon in the colors of the Marselline flag: purple, white, and green. The whole thing was gold.

    “Holy shit! Maggie!” said Hyacinth. She picked it up by the ribbon. Oh, no, wait. The weight was all wrong, and when she touched the metal she knew it instantly. Pinchbeck. “Oh.” And then she read the words on the front, For Exemplary Service to Man and Empire. In sharp relief, a long-haired woman in a classical dress was holding up a wreath of cherry blossoms.

    “Holy shit! Maggie!” Hyacinth reiterated. Then she saw Maggie. She had run out of swearing and she could only say, “Ahh!” and back her hip into the kitchen counter.

    “It’s not forever, Miss Hyacinth. I’m just stuck for a little. I can still talk and everything.” She had one pigtail, and the left half of her was still appreciably smooth and brown. On the right, her hair had gone to long glossy black feathers. They stuck up and fanned like one of those stupidly-fashionable hats David was always coveting. (He couldn’t bear to cover his beautiful hair, it was a real conundrum.) On her neck and the left side of her face they faded to pinions and some of her skin was still visible. There appeared to be more feathers poking out of the sleeve of her dress. Her legs seemed all right, but Hyacinth had a morbid curiosity about what she might be hiding in her left shoe. For all that, her eyes were the most jarring. The left was bright red with a tiny black pupil in the exact center. The right had gone entirely black.

    “Maggie, can you see like that?”

    “Yes, Miss Hyacinth,” she replied. “It’s a little bit different. My mother says my visual acuity may be based on movement.”

    “Oh,” said Hyacinth. “Oh, yeah. Great.” She sat down at the table and let the object she was holding clunk down on the surface in front of her. Maggie pointed a finger at it.

    “Miss Hyacinth, can we talk about that? I’m a little scared if Erik comes out he might see me. I don’t know if he remembers.”

    “Oh, the medal!” said Hyacinth. Gods forbid they should forget about the medal. The medal was worse than the feathers. She had known about the feathers. She held the gold disk in both hands, carefully. “Maggie, where did you get it?”

    “My mother had it in a box under the mattress,” Magnificent said.

    “Maggie, do you even know what this thing is?”

    “Yes, Miss Hyacinth.” She folded her hands behind her back and straightened as if to recite. “It’s an Imperial Medal of Honor. There is a certificate in the box that the Emperor signed. There’s also a picture of him giving it to her. There’s no sound but it still moves. You can see flashbulbs going off.”

    “Maggie, I, um…” Where could she even begin with how unwise of a decision this was? Didn’t this child know her mother? “It’s… It’s not real gold. It’s fake. It’s a kind of brass, so it does tarnish. It’s worth very much more as a medal like it is.”

    Maggie nodded. To the best of her ability, she was frowning. You could only see half of it.

    “I really think you’d better put it back…” She lifted it gingerly by the ribbon. “How did you get it out of there, anyway?”

    “Carefully,” Maggie replied. She didn’t reach out to take the medal. “Miss Hyacinth? Do you think you’ll get a lot of real gold to make an eye when my daddy gets back?”

    “Well, no,” Hyacinth admitted. “I thought we would probably use copper and steel. Or we could have very cheap gold, but that doesn’t hold up very well either.”

    “So it would tarnish anyway?”

    “I suppose. I mean, he’ll have to keep it oiled, and in a glass with oil when he’s not using it.”

    “Then I wish you would consider using it for his eye. My mother had that when Erik got hurt. If you knew she had that, you could have used it to fix him, and that would have hurt him a lot less than what you had to use. Isn’t that right?”

    “Well…” Yes. Pinchbeck was copper and zinc, good, strong metal. Superior in every way to tin alloyed with antimony. Antimony was poisonous — not like lead, you could get away with a little antimony — and adjusting to that was especially difficult. Also, if ever some well-meaning physician should try Erik on tartar emetic, that would kill him. Gods, she had to do something about that; he needed a bracelet or something. “If… If she told me about it, I probably would have used it a long time ago,” Hyacinth hedged. “Or when those girls came here and they were all burned.”

    “But it would have been helping somebody instead of under the bed?”

    “Well, yeah.”

    Magnificent nodded. She folded her small gloved hands in front of her. “It is my considered opinion that you should use that for Erik, Miss Hyacinth. Please, will you?”

    “I… Maggie, I think you’re right about all of that, but your mother, your mother…” Your mother will kill every last one of us, burn down the house and blight the ground upon which it stood so that naught may ever grow here again. “Your mother saved that a long time and I think she’ll be very upset when she finds it gone.”

    “I know she will be, Miss Hyacinth. I won’t let her find it. I’m going to tell her it was me and I’m going to tell her why I did it.”

    Hyacinth made a jagged, bewildered noise and dropped the hand holding the medal to her side. She didn’t dare drop the medal. Pinchbeck might scratch. “You mean… when she’s old?” the poleaxed woman managed at last.

    “No, Miss Hyacinth. Right after you say you can use it.”

    “Kah,” said Hyacinth, or something like it.

    “Miss Hyacinth, my mother won’t hurt me,” Maggie said. “She can make things so I don’t like them and she can try to make me sorry, but I won’t be sorry about this. I don’t mind if I can’t leave the house for a year and I have to be half a bird the whole time and I can’t even talk.” She frowned and cast her glance aside. “I just hope she doesn’t say I can’t see Erik anymore.”

    “I won’t let her say that,” Hyacinth replied. She wasn’t willing to slay dragons for pinchbeck, but she would be right in there with flaming sword and adamant shield for Erik’s wellbeing. “Erik needs you right now. Er…” She shook her head. “Maybe not right now.”

    “No, Miss Hyacinth,” Maggie replied placidly. “Then that’s all I’m worried about. Will you use the medal?”

    Hyacinth sighed. “You’ve got me in a corner, Maggie. I’m a lot more worried about it than you are, but I’ll use it.”

    “I think you should hide it for right now,” Maggie said. “In case my mother doesn’t think I’m right right away.”

    “You think she will?” said Hyacinth. “I mean, ever?”

    “Yes, Miss Hyacinth. I am right,” Magnificent said.

    Hyacinth opened a kitchen drawer and dangled the medal above it.

    “No, please. I think she could find it there if she was mad enough.”

    “How…” said Hyacinth. She shut her eyes and shook her head. She could picture the General rifling every drawer in the house without lifting a finger. She opened the drawer with her purse in it, but that was only one more layer of protection. With sudden resolve, she tucked it down the front of her dress. She winced. It was cold.

    Maggie was eyeing her critically.

    “You don’t really think she could find it there?” said Hyacinth.

    “I don’t know, but I’m not totally sure she couldn’t.”

    Hyacinth snatched her purse out of the drawer. “You know, I was going to get takeout for dinner anyway. Maggie, what would you like? You pick.”

    Magnificent smiled sadly and shook her head. “Thank you, Miss Hyacinth, but I’m certain I won’t be allowed to have any of it.”

    Hyacinth flinched and nodded. “You’re a very brave girl, Maggie. I’m a little frightened of what you’re going to grow up to be.”

    The child beamed. (Hyacinth noticed with horror that half of her teeth had gone as well.) “Thank you very much, Miss Hyacinth.”

    “Will you look out the front window and wait until I’m past Swan’s Neck before you tell your mother? I-I’m a little worried she’ll sense where it is and set it on fire. I suppose that’s silly.” She attempted a laugh.

    “No, Miss Hyacinth,” Maggie said. “I think it’s a good idea.”

    Hyacinth kept touching her chest like someone with a delicate heart condition the whole time she was gone. When she returned with boxed meals in paper bags, every drawer in the kitchen was open. (Over the next few days, she would discover that every drawer in the house had been opened, as well as all the boxes, even the sealed ones, and one very unfortunate mouse.) Mordecai met her at his bedroom door and informed her that his table had broken in two and scared the hell out of him. Ann returned that night to find her shoes scattered all over the floor. At the top of the house, when accepting his boxed meal, Barnaby complained of an ill wind that had unsettled his papers and demanded sage sticks immediately, if not sooner. Hyacinth denied him the right to set anything on fire in that rat’s nest of his and he threw his dinner at her. Later she brought him cheese and crackers and the sage from the spice cabinet and this was accepted.

    There was nothing from Room 101 on the matter, but of course there wouldn’t be.

    And that was it. She heard no more about it.

    She didn’t see Maggie very much for a while, though.

    After waiting two days for potential fallout — and saying a quick prayer at the shrine — she showed Milo the medal and they began work on an eye.

    The story continues...

    #urban fantasy#web series #writers on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr #fiction#illustration #illustrators on tumblr #fantasy #writers of tumblr #free to read #free to use #literature#creative commons#magic#steampunk#writing #tin soldier serial #anarchist#dramedy
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  • betsy-bulloop
    23.05.2022 - 37 minutes ago

    Organization for my shitty poetry

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  • followcb
    23.05.2022 - 51 minutes ago

    Madness

    you took that

    took away something

    I cherished . . . loved to do

    you bullied me and

    I sat back and accepted it

    allowed my joy to slowly dissipate

    until the thing I loved

    to do most became tarnished

    ruined by your harassment

    and now, well now, I've

    chosen to walk away

    from my favorite place

    see, my dreaming space

    has become a nightmare

    entangled in bitterness and lies

    all because you despise

    something that in reality

    isn't actual, isn't anything

    has zero basis in factual

    except in your sick head

    and I refuse to pay the penalty

    or suffer your madness

    one poem more

    one more message

    one more brutal attack

    one word more

    I'm done

    ©️ @followcb ☆ May 23, 2022

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  • studelstine
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    Let us stay stuck

    Together, caught up and unable

    To escape

    The sticky entanglement

    That is us intertwined

    Limbs caught up in knots

    Barely thinking thoughts

    Between quick breaths

    As we sink deeper

    Into the glue trap

    That is desire

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  • writeedgesg
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago
    #education#education tips #effective writing skills #english model compositions #primary english model compositions #creative writing class #primary 6 english model compositions #learning #how to tackle creative writing #english writing#students
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  • swampythesweetsketch
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    New prompt challenge:

    Throw an out of context screenshot of Lego Ninjago into the inbox and then write a (short) scene based on that screenshot alone. No connection to the season's plot or original context.

    #ninjago#writing prompt #uhhhhh send me one? #I need to get some creative juices flowing #you can ask to include ships if you want
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  • blazewatergem
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    Y’know

    I’m gonna make a list of all my wild universes n stuff

    Just for laughs

    It legit sounds like fun :D

    #I wanna worldbuild but not write at the moment #and I do enjoy just. posting cliff notes #I don’t know I’m in a very creative but not in a story way #so I might post some wild thing a ma do #here in a while or something lol #talking fire
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  • harmboy
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    ANDROMEDA

    //

    'perseus and andromeda', 1891, lord frederic leighton.

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  • awful-roffle
    23.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    “wow you have so many ocs i don’t think i could ever keep track of all of those in my head lol”

    you don’t understand i can make ocs out of literally anything and then give them personality and a playlist if i get fixated on them

    #creative writing brain go BRRR
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  • hamletsandtales
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    "In reality, we are just a part of one divine painting textured with layers of illusions and some gold dust"

    Summarizing the mystical sky and its hues into a tiny tale✨

    - Song Mithe Ras  - Location on the clouds and in the sky 

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  • gobbogoo
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    Unwanted Gift:

    Otets' three thin fingers drum out a pattern on the arm of his wheelchair. He glares at the colourful box in front of him. As a rule, parcels make him nervous. They represent an unknown variable.

    "What is inside?" He rasps to Sahsa across the table, causing the nurse to roll her eyes.

    "Just open it, Otets! If I tell you, it ruins the surprise." Her words cause Otets' withered body to tense.

    "You know I hate surprises!" He hisses, a scowl just visible on his bandaged face.

    "Yeah, but this is a good surprise." Sasha chides, pushing the gift closer.

    "There is no such thing." Otets spits, eyeing the glittering package as though it might explode. Sasha sighs.

    "Otets, trust that I'm not giving you anything you won't like."

    "Trust you? I trust no-one who gives gifts without clear motive." These words wipe the smile from Sasha's face.

    "Without motive...? Do you... not know what today is?"

    "Today is the 14th of March."

    "You can't be serious, Otets!" Sasha puts a hand to her forehead in exasperation, "you are the most obsessively fastidious person I have ever met, yet you forget today of all days?"

    "I memorize only that which is relevant to our cause. To do anything else would invite distraction and complacency."

    "Otets!" Sasha exclaims, "It was on this day, exactly one year ago, that I found you in the snow! Today is the anniversary of our partnership!" The ragged man opens his mouth to respond, then pauses as realization dawns.

    "I... see." He says at last, "you are... commemorating that day?"

    "Yeah." Grins Sasha, watching the paranoid man scrutinize his present.

    "It was an important day for us both, wasn't it?" Sasha eyes her frail accomplice, hunched in his wheelchair. He despised relying on others, so it was no wonder he'd try to forget the day she saved his life.

    "Yes," Otets looks away, his three tapping fingers losing their rhythm, "I... suppose it was." He glances back up towards his caretaker, and catches her expectant gaze. He shifts uncomfortably, before giving in:

    "...thank you." The words slip from bandaged lips like a confession. Sasha nods, gently. Otets stares back down at the gift on the table, its colourful wrapping bright against dull wood.

    "Will an exchange of gifts be costumery on this date?" He asks as he carefully picks up the parcel.

    "Yeah." Grins Sasha.

    "Very well... I will have something by this evening."

    There is the sound of tearing paper as Otets opens his gift, and for the first time in his life, he enjoys a surprise.

    #flash fiction#surprise#character dialogue#writing dialogue#creative writing #Otets and Sasha are another old creation of mine. #They live in an icy USSR inspired dictatorship #they also live in my head #speaking of heads #Otets used to be head of the secret police #before he got gulag'd #Sasha found him near death when he tried to escape #now the two seek to start a revolution
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  • out-grid
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    writing about androids and gender and it's making me want to write more about androids and gender in a different setting but my thing is pretty solidly urban horror/fantasy and it doesn't really work but also i am trying to get into a creative writing master after this, having accepted im too stupid and lazy and not least cripplingly socially anxious to do a phd, and probably I do need a project for that, huh so maybe i can put this inspo off till september, if im lucky

    #im not qualified to do a master in creative writing at all but i do do a lot of it sooooo maybe? #anyway #reason im less productive is well video games for one but im running out of dishonored to replay soon #but also trying to write one perfect 2k word Thing #cause turns out when doing a writing portfolio you cant just chuck an ao3 account at them (i mean thank god but it would have been easier) #but you have toooo have to write one singular good thing of 2k words #or six poems but im not doing that
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  • lorienfae
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    Night somersaults over the ebbed horizon, steady, silent, cimmerian,

    I flow free-flow in the atmosphere —

    a thoughtform, mystery, my esoteric bones, bloomed in filigree light, whisper in respiration, dwindling restlessness wrapped in sleep and faith

    and certainty in salvation,

    and I can almost feel it, love, tingling, tickling the tips

    of my fingers.

    © Anna S. 2022

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  • villainousvivs
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    kofi

    Made a kofi account! feel free to commission for writing or tips me @ https://ko-fi.com/villainousvivs

    Details are listed on site

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  • ramblingforevrr
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    I pour myself into people and things to get over the last person or thing and I become invested in things that were meant to be temporary because they were never practical to begin with.

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  • ant7hewriter007
    23.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    Writer’s Block 331

    told God I’ll do

    What needs to be done so I

    fulfill my purpose

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  • neverthelessgreatness
    23.05.2022 - 3 hours ago

    WRITING UPDATE

    *record scratch*

    I’m not one to flake out on ideas very easily, or give up and move on without thinking, butttt I am someone who sits with an idea for a while before I can figure out how I want to write it (or *if* I want to write it)

    And I had literally made my first WIP announcement post when I realized that I didn’t like the characters within the series I was working on, and I wanted to cut them all- except for two.

    I even mentioned in that post that Margot and Conner were simply the whole reason I came up for the series idea. Something about the two of them stood out to me so much and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried to begin drafting the first novel in the series and it just kept coming up flat and not enjoyable lol

    So… I cut it- the whole series.

    As of now, Margot and Conner are in a stand-alone book with a cast of flourishing characters that can be pursued as extra plot lines if I want to, but I think what I finally realized was that I was trying to fit a narrative to please myself that wasn’t working.

    Margot and Conner are literally just two goofs who hate each other who then fall in love- it’s so simple and real, and there is character growth and a cute love story with it. I just had to accept that what I was writing was a full blooded romance novel LMAO

    Sooo… without further ado…

    Here is the first official post for WE CANT KEEP MEETING LIKE THIS !

    I’m actually really excited to see where this goes. Right now, it purely is self indulgent and for my own enjoyment, and I’m so glad to be back at that point. I hate writing for other people, and the older I get the more I keep getting stuck in that mindset- not everything has to be deep or profound or stoic to be fun and real and good.

    Here’s their character info (superrr basic) !!

    Margot Argate is a late night radio host with a true addiction to breaking and entering. She has dated only one person in her life and truthfully only finds her love from her two sisters and her cat, Rat. She likes her coffee black, her converse scuffed, and her fingers calloused from guitar. She loves her roommate, Yasmine, and her roommates boyfriend, Will- they’re pretty much her only friends. But she hates Conner Foley.

    Conner Foley is a fraternity boy & former swimmer with a knack for somehow falling for girls who can’t seem to reciprocate. He loves his cat, Pippy, and loves to play board games. He has shitty eyesight but hates glasses, so settles for contacts. He’s observant but not quiet, and falls sometimes on the line of arrogance. He loves his roommate, Will, and his roommates girlfriend, Yasmine, but he can’t fucking stand Margot Argate.

    Basically, in which two people who can’t stand each other always accidentally end up sleeping together.

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