Aomine @adaomine - Tumblr Blog

“you cannot ship these two fictional characters because—” actually I can because they are not real people. they are just toys I play with. you cannot apply real-world morality to fiction or how strangers play with their imaginary toys in their imaginary sandboxes.

you can, however, curate your own internet experience by minding your own business, muting/blocking/scrolling past what upsets you but does not hurt anyone in real life in any way, shape or form.

a-tangled-mermaid

Sigh. At least I have this.

autistichalsin

Bad writing is great!!!!

Bad writing means you took the time to write something, you, a real human being. It means you created something! And you have the awareness to see that there's room for improvement, too!!!

Bad writing is wonderful!!! Bad writing is a platform from which you can build your masterpiece! Bad writing is the backbone of good writing!

Give yourself permission to write badly. No, actually- give yourself permission to write something TERRIBLE. Give yourself permission to write such drivel that you can barely read it.

Nothing comes out a masterpiece the first time!! You think Isaac Asimov never wrote a total stinker he had to rebuild from the ground up? You think Jules Verne never wrote utter slop for a first draft?

WRITE SOMETHING AWFUL!!! Write something so bad you cringe about it years later!!! And then when that's done, write some more!!!!!

mahab-shk

happy aokaga day! 🩵❤️

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

luxfuxxvii

not now kitten. daddy only planned the first half of his wip, and now he has to figure out what the fuck to do for the other half.

nekido

happy aokaga day!! ❤️💙

luna-azzurra

Setting & Atmosphere Ideas!!

𐙚⋆.˚ The smell that hits before anything is seen

𐙚⋆.˚ How a room feels different at 3am vs. 3pm

𐙚⋆.˚ The sound that's only noticeable when everything else goes quiet

𐙚⋆.˚ Light quality, yellow and warm vs. cold and fluorescent

𐙚⋆.˚ The thing that's slightly wrong about an otherwise normal space

𐙚⋆.˚ Temperature as mood (the specific chill of a hospital, the thick heat of a fight)

𐙚⋆.˚ What a space says about the person who lives in it

𐙚⋆.˚ The background noise that tells you exactly where you are

𐙚⋆.˚ Weather that mirrors without being too obvious about it

𐙚⋆.˚ The one detail a character notices that reveals what they're looking for

𐙚⋆.˚ How familiar places look different after something changes

𐙚⋆.˚ The texture of things: rough, worn, too-new, cold metal

𐙚⋆.˚ Empty spaces that feel occupied. Occupied spaces that feel hollow.

𐙚⋆.˚ The way sound travels differently in grief vs. joy

𐙚⋆.˚ Objects that carry history without explaining it

𐙚⋆.˚ The specific ugly of a beautiful place when you're in the wrong mood

𐙚⋆.˚ Noticing the exit first (what that says about a character)

𐙚⋆.˚ The before-storm stillness applied to non-weather moments

𐙚⋆.˚ How a space shrinks when tension fills it

𐙚⋆.˚ The detail so specific it makes everything around it feel real

zepart-st3r

Happy aokaga day ❤️💙

intofluffyshit

Doll design

Wish I have actual money and skill to have them💔

allthingswhumpyandangsty

my toxic trait as a writer is that I’ll be like “I have free time. I am going to write right now” and then I. don’t

writing-prompt-s

"I need an Angel Shot" the girl whispered. The bartender nodded pulled out a loaded crossbow, ignited the bolt with black fire and replied. "Point out the angel you need shot"

nekido

update: i made a second one ✨

luna-azzurra

Longing From Afar Prompts

✭ watching them laugh with someone else and feeling your heart reach toward them like a plant straining for sunlight it knows it will never touch.

✭ the way your eyes always find them in a room, like your heart installed a tracking chip and didn’t ask permission.

✭ them brushing past you with a polite smile, completely unaware that the single second of eye contact was the brightest moment of your week.

✭ rereading old messages from them, not to torture yourself (okay maybe a little), but because their words still feel like warmth trapped in pixels.

✭ catching the ghost of their perfume in a hallway and stopping, breath stolen, because for half a second it felt like they were right there.

✭ pretending not to notice them while memorizing every detail. How they tuck their hair, how they fidget with their sleeves, how their laugh rises and falls.

✭ sitting across the room, both of you immersed in your own worlds, but every now and then they look up and your heart stumbles over itself because they almost smiled at you.

✭ hearing someone say their name and snapping your head up like you’ve been summoned.

luna-azzurra

Prompts for writing eyes like that

✧ Her eyes had that warm, earthy tone that made you feel like you’d known her in another life.

✧ His eyes had that calm, rich brown that reminded you of a place you’ve never been but somehow miss anyway. Familiar in a way that didn’t make sense.

✧ His eyes held that soft, earthy darkness that somehow made everything he said sound a little more meaningful.

✧ Her gaze carried that familiar, warm-earth hue people overlook until they realize it’s the one that feels like home.

✧ Her irises held this grounded brown that felt like truth, even when her words didn’t. A color that didn’t need to shine to be seen.

✧ His eyes were the kind of brown that didn’t try to catch the light, but did anyway. Not because they were bright, but because they watched everything.

✧ Her eyes were dark in a way that wasn’t cold, more like the sky before a meteor shower, waiting for something to fall.

✧ Her eyes had that deep, grounded color that felt ancient, like she’d been carrying a whole universe in them before the rest of us caught up.

✧ Her eyes were that deep, unknowable brown you only see in old forests. Shadowy but alive, full of things you couldn’t name.

✧ Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t tell where the color ended and the thought began, a depth that made you ask questions you weren’t ready to hear answers to.

✧ Her gaze was a deep, ink-dark brown that softened only when she laughed. A rare crack in otherwise steady darkness.

✧ Her eyes were dark in a way that felt warm at first glance and dangerous if you stared too long.