[adampvrrish]

literally everything always feels like a performance to me. i’ll be uncontrollably sobbing and will suddenly be like wow i would’ve won an oscar for this

[dressed-in-rain]

I was in a beginner’s fiction writing class once and we read a Borges piece to interpret and discuss and my interpretation was that he was describing the kind of weird mental state writers can wind up in where we mine everything –everything– for material. So, I’ll be filled with immense grief or joy or fear or what have you, and at the same time there’s this little disassociated piece of myself going “oh, so this is what x feels like, ok. What’re the physical sensations? What are the thoughts like? etc. etc” and analysing my experiences as they happen and figuring out how I’d put them into a narrative. I described it as having this omnipresent voyeur inside of one’s experience. And, other than our professor, no-one else at all got or could relate to what I was saying, except for a classmate who was an actor, who felt himself doing the exact same thing. 

[moonlit-sunflower-books]

the sexual tension between me and the new wip idea that’s been sitting in the back of my head and distracting me the whole day

[mindlesslittlefreak]

what is a writer, if not a miserable little pile of ideas and half written google docs

[missreinarabbit]

[bibwu-movedlol-deactivated20220]

Writing Websites

1. a website with a list of superpowers and what they are

2. a website that generates random au ideas

3. a website that generates names, basic info and futures in a bunch of languages

4. a website that checks your grammar

5. website that lists types of execution in the states

6. a website with info on death certificates

7. a website with info on the four manners of death

8. a website with info on the black plague

9. website with information on depression

10. a website with info on the four types of suicide

11. website that lists famous quotes

12. website with different kinds of quotes

13. a website with info on food in every country

14. a website with a list of different colors

15. website with a list of medieval jobs

16. website with a list of fabrics

17. website with a list of flowers and pictures

18. website with a list of flowers and no pictures

19. website with a list of poisonous plants

20. website with a list of poisonous and non-poisonous plants

21. website with a list of things not to feed your animals

22. website with a list of poisons that can be used to kill people

23. website with info on the international date line

24. website with a list of food allergies

25. website with a list of climates

26. website with info on allergic reactions

27. website with info on fahrenheit and celsius 

28. website with info on color blindness

29. website with a list of medical equipment

30. website with a list of bugs

31. website with an alphabetic list of bugs and their scientific name

32. website with a list of eye colors

33. website (wikipedia sorry) with list of drinks

34. website with a list of religions

35. website with a list of different types of doctors and what they do

36. website (wikipedia again sorry) with a list of hair colors

37. website that generates fantasy names

38. website with a list of body language

39. website with a list of disabilities

40. website with an alphabetic list of disabilities

[pixiecodesnowbaz]

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[futurewriter2000]

Reblogging bc i need this but have to study

[harrysweasleys]

to my fellow writers!!

[housefinchfiction]

there is literally nothing more exhilarating than figuring out your character's True Personality™. Like you've been so focused on forcing traits onto a character that when you finally step back and notice a pattern that definitely shouldn't have been there it's like. everything snaps into place at once, you finally know who they are

[erosofthepen]

LETS TALK ABOUT SPARRING

I’ve read a lot of fics, have seen many shows, and have watched many movies that are completely inaccurate when it comes to sparring. NOW, i know it’s fiction, and I greatly enjoy it nonetheless, but I would like to share a few things with you, as a person who trains in Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA). There are a few general things in this, as well as stuff more focused to a certain european weapon. (this is all Historical European stuff, obviously if you’re writing for a different region, this probably won’t apply that much.)

SPARRING

-you don’t practice with real sharp swords. Never. It’s incredibly dangerous, especially since sparring is trying to practice your killing/injuring skills. In older times, you would use wood, maybe wrapped in leather or canvas to practice. Today, you use weighted nylon swords/weapons, and you usually wear a mask while doing so. Steel is and was an option, but the blade will be completely dull, and the tip will be bent over itself.

-It’s practically impossible to knock someone off their feet while sparring, unless you are hooking your foot or weapon behind their leg. It’s hard to push back and cause someone to fall, since they can just retreat back a bit.

-YOU. DON’T. SPEND. HOURS. SPARRING. ESPECIALLY WITHOUT A BREAK. It’s exhausting, the most people usually go is 10 minutes before they have a break. During Training, you only spar for about 2-5 minutes before stopping and having a rest.

-You try your hardest never to cross your feet. It’s dangerous and it unbalances you. Your opponent can take advantage of you easily.

-Usually, you want to strike your opponent with the last ¼ of your blade, basically just the tip and a little below. That’s the sharpest point, and you get the most force behind it.

-Swords aren’t super heavy. Stop the giant, huge, I-can-barely-lift-this trope. Longswords are usually 3lbs. It’s not heavy when you pick it up. However, it gets heavy when you’re holding it up above your head for a while. Swords were not made to be heavy, especially since you would have to hold them up in battle for sometimes hours.

-It’s incredibly hard to engage in witty banter and such. You are constantly moving and trying to strike your opponent. Since it’s fiction, you can do what you want, but just know that trying to have a conversation while sparring is like trying to have one while running. It tires you out even more, and usually just comes out breathless and wheezy.

-Swords are not lightsabers. You cannot try and hurt someone with just any part of your blade. It will just annoy your opponent. Now, for sparring, you will want to focus on hitting your opponent with the edge of your blade, and you won’t really ever be trying to hit someone with the flat of your blade.

-In sparring, you will get hit. And get bruises. I count five from just 2 days ago. (Also reminder that bruises don’t form for 1-3 days.) If you happened to get a hard thrust to the ribs, they will probably fracture. It happens. I haven’t had it personally, but those who’ve trained longer have. The worst injury I’ve gotten is a bruise on my chest that didn’t fade for nearly a month.

-Grip!!! You don’t clutch your sword super tight. No. It limits movement. My instructor taught me to hold firmly with the thumb, pointer, and middle finger, and use the other two as more guiding fingers. You swing your sword with your wrist, not a big giant arm movement. That is tiring and slow. 

I will be focusing on using a one handed sword in this next bit, specifically a Scottish Regimental Broadsword. A basic sword to build off of.

-FOOTWORK. It’s not a super complicated series of perfectly planned out steps. It just isn’t. With Regimental Broadsword (which is what I will focus on, since it’s what I’ve trained with most), you have to have a good base (rear-weighted stance, front foot pointed at your opponent, back foot turned sideways), and then once you have that, you just have to move around and try not to get hit.

-Slipping. (Continuation of footwork). With a rear-weighted stance, the goal is to be able to move the front foot anywhere. You should actually be able to keep your front foot an inch off the ground without having to adjust your back foot. Slipping is when this comes in handy. If your opponent takes a swing at your front leg, you should be able to just slip it back to go next to your other foot, and swing your sword up to get your opponents head. Slipping is really important.

-Advance and Retreat (other continuation of footwork). While moving forward or back, you always want to feel the ground with a heel-toe movement, so you can tell if there are rocks or branches and such. Advancing, you want to move your front leg first. Retreating, your back leg.

-Traversing (last continuation of footwork)(maybe). Transversing is basically advancing in on your opponent in a circular motion. You’re trying to get close and personal. Reminder to not cross your feet. You will loose balance and probably end up getting whacked with a sword. Traversing is a spiral motion sort of. Your opponent can avoid getting trapped If they do it as well.

I will probably come back and add more soon, because there’s more I know, but can’t remember at the moment.

[spacehorrors]

no google docs you don't understand this is a sexy, necessary grammar mistake

[kraniumet]

meet cute: it's raining and I see your battered bleeding body lying in the mud and I kick it slightly to see if you're dead

[thinkingofausername]

[oh-no-another-idea]

Me as a flower

Thanks for tagging me, @sleepy-night-child​, these picrew games are always such fun! 

I’m not sure who’s already done it, so if you see this, consider this your invitation to join! Also tagging @a-sunflower-at-night​ @fiercely-raging-writer​ @drippingmoon​ and @talesfromaurea​ 

[a-sunflower-at-night]

Thanks for tagging me Cass! Sorry for being so late, this is a really cute one

Open Tag because I'm tired

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

if u want a short intro, just put the basics: status, title, synopsis, genre and themes! and maybe a header that shows the vibes of the WIP^^ - ✨ (@enchanted-lightning-aes)

This is SO helpful Enchant thank you so much!!!!

[writing-prompt-s]

The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.

[ghost-mantis]

Suddenly all the people with prosthetics, wheelchairs, implants, and the like are getting the accommodations and help they need without having to be poor or locked away in a care center. This is an apocalypse I can get behind!

[verysorrytobother]

The other survivors left us behind.

They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.

We understood. The world was ending, not changing.

“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)

Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”

No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.

Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”

“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.

Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.

“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.

“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.

“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”

Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”

Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.

We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.

All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.

Through our laughter, none of us cared.

————

They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.

But none came.

“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.

The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.

Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.

“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“…yes?”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”

As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.

“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.

“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”

Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.

“Y-E-S.”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.

The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.

“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.

A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.

Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.

“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”

The bot seemed to consider for a moment.

Then its gun folded away.

“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”

Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.

————

My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.

And then there were the upgrades.

“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)

“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)

Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”

“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”

Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.

Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.

Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)

Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”

Thank you. Now gimme.

————

I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.

But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.

It’s nothing personal.

I’m sure they understand.

[saiyanqueenreads]

[oh-no-another-idea]

Last line tag

Thanks for the tag @fiercely-raging-writer and @another-wannabe-novelist –I actually got a little writing done today, so i’ve got something to share! Two lines for you:

“Antonio,” Velia ordered. “Shoot back at him.”

Antonio grimaced and pulled out his gun. “What if I hit him, though?”

No pressure tags for @wannabeauthorzofija @thats-my-type-writer @sleepy-night-child @drippingmoon and anyone who’d like to share a line or two–please join!!!

[mysharona1987]

[thoughts-ofawriter]

do you ever just write a single, beautiful line and feel really proud of yourself. then you look five paragraphs down, and there’s a sentence like, “I walked and my legs were walking” and wonder what in the goddamn heck happened

[friskbitz]

hey writeblr is this anything