before you stab someone: THINK!

how can you make it Tender?

how can you make it Homoerotic?

how can you make it Implicitly intimate?

how can you make it Noticeably a metaphor for sex?

how can you make it Kind of gay?

By far one of the best writer feelings is when you’re just chilling and then it’s “Oh THAT’S how my plot is going to go”

Anyone else not care if a character is “redeemable” even a little. Either they get better or they die terrible. I am not Anubis, weighing their hearts against a feather. I wanna see what else they can do and how they can grow or change or even get worse. Stop asking me if a character can be forgiven. I don’t care.

You should write the most niche, indulgent fiction that appeals to you specifically, because it will be much more artistically authentic and valuable than corporate slop that has been focus tested to death to appeal to the widest audience possible.

Write for yourself and you will always be making authentic art that has an uncompromised vision, and you will gain an audience that appreciates that.

tagged by @venusinmyrrh

the rules: post a picture of your OC and then four random (or whatever number you’d like) photos with no explanation that conveys their vibe.

Posy Richfield is the main character from my vintage inspired low fantasy road trip romance wip It's Not Always Summer.

First photo is made with Artbreeder.

Tagging @winterandwords, @peach-the-gospel, @burntblanc, and @noveldivergence if you want to do it.

the curse is lifted! you are no a beast no more! congratulations! but you'll never forget the way they looked at you, will you.

from lemonade hiatus, a side project while i edit press start

Shaking his head to dislodge the train preparing to derail, Jem finally comes to a stop. Stares at the end of the bed, at the wrinkled blankets countless people have slept under, fucked upon, and frowns because he's not likely to be doing either.

Hasn't slept in almost twenty-four hours. Too damn antsy and hopeful. That hope's burning out quicker than Jem can relight it, but fuck if he isn't determined.

Still, he kicks off his shoes—an old, worn pair of black and white Chuck Taylors that, although faded, still has Tobie's i<3u scrawled in Sharpie along the left's front sole-and rips off his socks. Tosses those aside. His pants are next to come off, left on the dingy carpet where he steps out of them.

His checkered blue and gray hoodie stays on. It smells like Sloane, like cinnamon and autumn leaves, like his embrace is still lingering in the fabric and thread, and there's a residual kick of cigarette smoke somewhere in the sleeves that reminds Jem of Delia.

Of home.

Keep reading

this hit me like a truck

blood test came back haunted

i love to read a character's stoicism as awkwardness. yeah your posture is great and you're mysteriously surveying the scene but it's because you're stiff af and don't know how to approach anyone, right?

last line(s) tag

Thank you for the tag, @asher-writes!

Oh.. hehe.. these are the last lines I edited from The Insuppressible Electra Ray. Enjoy!

Simon 12-years-ago POV

The sex was impersonal, quick, and about as simple as he could hope for. The only time he even felt like he had anything to do with it was when she asked him to say it again. 

“Huh?” he asked, having absolutely no idea what the last thing he said might’ve been. 

“That it’s only me,” Electra breathed from above him, hair stuck to her forehead in sweaty strands. “That I’m different from everyone else. That I’m special. Say it.” 

Oh, that. “It’s only you,” he repeated. He’d have sung a sea shanty if it got her moving again. “You’re special.” 

She threw her head back and laughed, thoroughly satisfied. He didn’t ask her to explain, not then and not later, because he didn’t particularly care.

Tagging @winterandwords, @foxboyclit, @pertinax--loculos and @chauceryfairytales if they'd like to share last lines!