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allthewhumpygoodness

Hey so I know we All Know This but I will NEVER be over a character being feverish and delirious and making No sense. I will never be over a glittery-eyed, shivering, distressed character weakly gripping another's arm and asking them questions they don't know the answer to, and probably don't mean anything at all. I will never be over characters calling out for people either long gone or right next to them, but unrecognizable in their delirium. I will never be over a character crying in frustration and fear over something in their head they can't explain to whoever is helping them, and all they can do in return is stroke their hair and shush them gently.

georgecuntanza

love books. because it’s like what if something happened

writingdose

being a writer is

50% daydreaming about plots and writing

50% procrastinating/suffering during the actual writing process

gaysadist

If there's sexual abuse subtext no there isn't, if there's allusion to sexual abuse you're ruining it for everyone else by talking about it, if there's a metaphor for sexual abuse you're reading too far into it and it's actually a metaphor for anything more palatable, and if there's on-screen sexual abuse? Well that's exploitative torture porn, of course.

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brainstreams

cadaverkeys

genuinely one of my favourite details about Bram Stokers Dracula that isn't really transferred to the pop culture is that vampires have irridescent eyes, they appear brown at a glance, however when light is reflected on them they seem to go red!

cadaverkeys

another thing that pop culture latched onto is this idea that you might use a wreath of garlic bulbs to ward off a vampire, however, in the book there is a popular use of garlic blossoms rather than the bulbs. i think these are a lot prettier and way more versatile for stylisation! you could have a garlic flower crown.

cadaverkeys

also like the cowboy part can we please stop omitting the fact that there is a real ass cowboy in Bram Stokers Dracula and hes from real ass Texas and he has a fucking gun and he tries to fucking shoot Dracula

fleshdyk3

i haaate when ppl are talking abt mammal colouration and they bring up mandrills but not vervet monkeys.... fake fans

fleshdyk3

put some respect on his name

ihnmaims

formerlyluckymanticore

Reblog if you will never. Ever. Use AI in your writing.

scythetypes

pro tip! if you ever get stuck on your project just fucking cry man. get it out, it's okay

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minimalistquotes

"Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?"

writersisland

Commonly Confused Words (2)

disassemble vs. dissemble disassemble means to take something apart: “We disassembled the cabinet together.” dissemble means to hide one’s beliefs or feelings: “She knew she had to dissemble her feelings to avoid a lecture.”

imply vs. infer imply means to hint at something: “He implied he was having an affair.” infer means to make an aducated guess and acts as the opposite to imply: “She inferred that he had been disloyal.”

disinterested vs. uninterested disinterested means being unbiased about something: “I asked an impartial third-party to get a disinterested take.” uninterested means being indifferent and having no interest at all: “I tried to show him, but he was uninterested.”

empathy vs. sympathy empathy describes feeling what someone else feels: “His natural empathy meant that he was always feeling bad for someone.” sympathy is a feeling of compassion or feeling bad for someone: “She showed no sympathy for her victims.”

grisly vs. grizzly grisly means something disgusting, horrible, or repulsive: “The killer left a grisly sight behind.” grizzly is a large species of brown bears: “No, you cannot cuddle the grizzly!”

Part 1

brainstreams

paperplateprose

not now kitten. daddy's realizing that the scene he invested 1000 words into could be significantly improved but only if he started over from scratch

wisp-of-thewillows

I want more time with you

but I know

that our lives don't let us

the hours don't line up

our days are too busy

I know that it doesn't fit

I just want to talk to you

but I know that time is hard

and making space is difficult.

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musingsoftwistedpoet

Dare I bare my

soul to thee?

Won’t you take my hand?

long have I dreamt

of the day

to share my hearts

desire; take you

in my arms

never to depart

Won’t you stay

with me now?

please tell me you shall

Fore life be too

short to waste

but a second more

myharshwordspoetry

FORTY YEARS, SIX YEARS OLD

he is forty now

but somewhere inside him

a six-year-old still flinches

at footsteps

because love,

the first time he learned it,

came with hands

that didn’t know how to hold...

only how to break

his mother...

not a lullaby,

not a safe place

but a shadow

they call it “unalive” now

like softening the word

makes the memory quieter

it doesn’t

it echoes

through the years

into a nine-year-old

lifting a bottle

like it might hold

something steadier than home

his father...

a storm with a name

a fist with a voice

and no one ever explained

why anger grew in his chest

like it belonged there

no one told him

that watching someone you love

become something unrecognizable

rewires a child

into survival

so he grew up

thinking rage was inheritance

thinking silence was strength

thinking numb

was the closest thing

to peace

and now...

forty

and still learning

that what was done to him

was never

who he was meant to be

with intent

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