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@gsnoveladventures

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
© Soul Wave Studio
I see all these posts being reblogged about how no one can finish their stories, the second half of the doc being a barren wasteland, fics without endings etc. Do you want me to tell you how to finish stories?
How to finish your story:
Know the ending
Pick the right length
Stop talking about it
Work on the story you most want to write
Write it
I liked this so much I made it into a spreadsheet!
The sheet basically turns OP's recommendations into prompts with the goal of working through your ideas to find the finish-able story within. The document is read-only, but please feel free to make a copy, play with it, and share around!
Images from a 19th century cat book from Siam. Cats are identified by the lucky and unlucky effects they have on people.
Library of Congress
The girls are sleeping.
Textless version below.
Had this idea of a meme redraw with that scene from witch hat atelier :D

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Finally, the misfortune can be brought about also by the mere attitude of the persons to one another through their relations. Thus there is no need either of a colossal error, or of an unheard-of accident, or even of a character reaching the bounds of human possibility in wickedness, but characters as they usually are in a moral regard in circumstances that frequently occur, are so situated with regard to one another that their position forces them, knowingly and with their eyes open, to do one another the greatest injury, without any of them being entirely in the wrong. This last kind of tragedy seems to me to be far preferable to the other two; for it shows us the greatest misfortune not as an exception, not as something brought about by rare circumstances or by monstrous characters, but as something that arises easily and spontaneously out of the actions and characters of men, as something almost essential to them, and in this way it is brought terribly near to us... We see the greatest suffering brought about by entanglements whose essence could be assumed even by our own fate, and by actions that perhaps even we might be capable of committing, and so we cannot complain of injustice. Then, shuddering, we feel ourselves already in the midst of hell. In this last kind of tragedy the working out is of the greatest difficulty; for the greatest effect has to be produced in it with the least use of means and occasions for movement, merely by their position and distribution.
On Tolstoy's approach to tragedy, from the introduction of Anna Kerenina.
Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction
on watching a parent age
i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening
trust that everything will fall into place without you forcing it there.
Not big on love anymore. But, Oh man, you should've seen me when I was...

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I imagine a place.
A home warm with love and all the trappings for me to grow up whole. And then I recall the real one. The first crime done against a against wee me. It was horrendously vague, these acts my mind has done away with. And they've at compounded. Her childhood heart left with trace smears and scents of anxiety, fear. What I present now is a whole that is an unkempt presentation Adult. Awkwardness in her non-presentness within the world. Her own body. An utter lack of social graces she should have, that should have been taught. And the cracking smile hiding a slow burning hatred for a warring world she was never armed for. Unknowingly that home had housed her first the unconscious malefactors. They'd sown the disinformation and doubt. Facts coming later when her responses had suited and mirrored their reactive trauma. Lonely happiness a fog she creates in her mind. She still lives in this place. Her home and it has changed. She has grown content with her dissatisfaction. They are soft-threaded and well worn blankets. She is a whole cobbled together with toxic glue of hope and aspirations. Dreams. She inhales it every day just to remain sane. She is warm in her home. Her delusional fictive dreams are exhales, chocking smoke, that keep her so.