"How's the book going?"
"It's going so fast. Basically running away from me. Oh, no, it's escaping!"
occasionally subtle
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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DEAR READER
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shark vs the universe
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@c-m-townsend
"How's the book going?"
"It's going so fast. Basically running away from me. Oh, no, it's escaping!"
Realizing the writing doesn't have to be done alone and is often more fun and more engaging when you're doing it with friends is a life changing experience.
I don't mean co-writing either. I mean having a friend or two who you talk through plot ideas with, who you bounce ideas off of, who you trust to tell you if something doesn't work.
Nothing is created in a vacuum and nothing can be created alone. Sharing drafts and ideas is a vital part of the creative process and it's a really fun part too.
Tips for Writing Injuries
✧ Broken ribs suck. You don’t just “walk it off.” Breathing hurts. Laughing hurts. Existing hurts. Characters with rib injuries won’t be doing heroic sprints.
✧ Concussions aren’t instant naps. Dazed vision, nausea, dizziness, maybe even personality changes, but they’re not going to collapse neatly like in the movies.
✧ Blood loss is sneaky. It’s not just about dramatic pools of blood. It’s dizziness, confusion, and the body getting cold as circulation tanks.
✧ Adrenaline lies. Someone can take a serious injury and not feel it until the fight’s over. That “I didn’t realize I was bleeding until later” trope? Very real.
✧ Twisted ankles are brutal. One bad step and suddenly running is off the table. Even walking hurts like hell. Perfect way to ground a chase scene.
✧ Burns linger. Even small burns hurt more than most people expect. Blisters, infection risk, constant pain, it’s not just a cool scar later.
✧ Dislocated shoulders = useless arm. Characters can’t keep swinging a sword or firing a gun. They’re basically fighting one-armed until it’s fixed.
✧ Shock is a thing. Pale skin, trembling, rapid heartbeat, and eventually disorientation. A character might not even realize how bad their wound is.
✧ Stitches aren’t magic. Getting sewn up is painful and recovery takes time. They’re not instantly battle-ready after a needle and thread.
✧ Scars tell stories. Some fade, some don’t. Some stay sensitive forever. Don’t forget the aftermath when the wound becomes part of the character.
“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”
— Ernest Hemingway
Times are tough; Have a Bat
/|\ ^._.^ /|\
Ways to Show a Character is Falling in Love and Doesn’t Want To ...
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They notice the sound of their name in that person’s mouth and hate that it sounds better. Like their name was meant to be said that way.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start to dress better when they might see them, subconsciously at first. “Oh, this old thing?” Sure. The old thing you ironed twice.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their laugh becomes a trigger. Not in the trauma sense, in the “I suddenly forgot how to breathe and now I want to die” sense.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Every conversation feels like walking a tightrope between wanting to tease and wanting to touch.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They say they don’t care, but they’re paying way too much attention. Who they’re talking to. How they’re smiling. Who made them smile.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They avoid them, dramatically, stupidly and it physically hurts. Like withdrawal. They’ll literally hide behind shelves, peek around corners, act like a spy in their own life.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start saying their name too often. “Oh, yeah, Alex said that too.” “Alex likes that band.” “Alex once...” Shut up, my dude. Please.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They mock them to their friends, but there’s a softness in the way they do it. A little too much affection in the “ugh, they’re so annoying.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their stomach does that thing, you know the one, when they catch their scent on something, and it’s not even strong, just a hint, and suddenly they’re useless for the next ten minutes.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They overthink texts. “Okay, no emojis looks cold. Too many looks desperate. Maybe one. No, zero. Period. Wait, does the period look aggressive?”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They dream about them, not even romantically, just constantly. Their brain won’t let them rest.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their jealousy doesn’t make sense. “Why are you talking to them?” “Because they’re a person.” “Oh, right, cool, yeah, totally fine, no reason, haha.” (proceeds to spiral internally).
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They act colder, on purpose. But it’s performative. The kind of detachment that’s practically begging to be noticed.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start arguments for no reason. Because fighting feels easier than confessing.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They imagine kissing them during fights. Yes, during. It’s sick. They hate it.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They think about what they’d say if they ever got drunk enough to tell the truth. Then immediately pray that moment never comes.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their pulse spikes when their phone buzzes. It’s embarrassing how fast they grab it. And when it’s not them? Oh, the rage.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They watch their every expression. Like a scientist studying a dangerous animal. “What does that smile mean? Are they flirting or just friendly?” They never know. It’s torture.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They make jokes about being heartless. “Me? Love? Gross.” Meanwhile, they’re literally halfway in love already.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They defend them when no one asked. “They’re not that bad.” Bro. No one said they were. Chill.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They keep trying to rationalize it, listing all the reasons it can’t work, all the flaws they can find, like that’ll stop the feeling. It won’t.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They flinch when someone else flirts with them, then pretend they didn’t notice.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They convince themselves the other person doesn’t feel the same, because that’s safer than hoping.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their denial becomes its own obsession. “It’s not like that.” “It’s nothing.” “I don’t even like them.” Said for the fiftieth time this week.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ They get defensive when someone points it out. “Me? Them? You’re insane.” They’re not.
Stiles gets a puppy. The cutest fluffiest most clueless little guy ever.
He names him The Kraken
He goes to the dog park with Lydia (and Prada) and Derek, who is holding The Kraken's leash.
Lydia: Why did you call him that? Why not something cute?
Stiles grins like he has been waiting for this moment his entire life.
Stiles: DEREK! RELEASE THE KRAKEN!
Derek gives a long suffering sigh and unclips the leash so The Kraken can go play
Lydia: How many times have you made that joke?
Derek: He does it every time.
Stiles gets a puppy. The cutest fluffiest most clueless little guy ever.
He names him The Kraken
He goes to the dog park with Lydia (and Prada) and Derek, who is holding The Kraken's leash.
Lydia: Why did you call him that? Why not something cute?
Stiles grins like he has been waiting for this moment his entire life.
Stiles: DEREK! RELEASE THE KRAKEN!
Derek gives a long suffering sigh and unclips the leash so The Kraken can go play
Lydia: How many times have you made that joke?
Derek: He does it every time.
Remember by C.M. Townsend
A poem about nature and our place within, our memory etched into stone, water, and air. When all else fails, the Earth remembers.
L and steals not our memory, nor our presence, as time casts our fragile shells aside, the Earth remembers. Footsteps cast in sand, dredged
Silence by C.M. Townsend
Society habitually tries to silence its members when the narrative does not fit the desired outcome.
This poem calls it out, refusing to be silenced.
A war declared on voices against the grain, unbidden by societal— Enough ! Your words have been said, unclaimed and ignored, dismissed
Queer by C.M. Townsend
Being queer is more than a title or label. Queer is a poem to celebrate and unite. I originally posted it on my blog for Pride month; and while a person's identity as queer and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community is not limited to one month a year, it is a time to come together and celebrate, commemorate, remember, and fight.
A poem to celebrate. A poem to unite. Pride month is here, and while a person's identity as queer and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community is
whenever i see a post about someone wondering how an asexual and a sexual can be in a healthy relationship there’s always someone being applauded for saying well asexuals can have sex too or just because someone’s asexual doesn’t mean they won’t have sex but i have never, not once, EVER seen someone say well hey, some sexuals don’t have sex. you can have a full relationship without sex. just throwing it out there
Yesterday I told a guy I was ace/aro and he asked what “aro” meant, so I told him, and he responded, “Oh, I thought it might be like A-E-R-O and I was confused.”
Yes. I am asexual/aerodynamic. At the slightest hint of sex or romance I launch myself into the air and land several miles away.
Oh, so that’s why you have Finns.
#alright#i’m Finnished
Please let this be true.
Reblogging this, because it is awesome, and I inadvertently posted this separately without realising the author was here. Everyone should see the original post. 💜
Edit, I want to apologise for inadvertently reposting ontologicalsynaesthesia's post. I found the screenshot on Facebook and didn't realise it came from Tumblr, or I would have automatically shared the original post.
I have now shared the original.
I have left this up with a snippet of the photo, so that anyone who liked my post can locate the original author's post.
Again, my sincerest apologies for the mistake.
We are living in a world of negativity and hate, and it has really been getting to me. Everywhere we look, people are judging, insulting, hurting, and attacking others. Why? Because we're different. Because we aren't carbon copied replicas of them. We make our own choices, and those choices don't always align with someone else. Others? Well. It can be as simple as our body.
I have two blog posts related to this for anyone who is interested. I just want a world where everyone can live in peace.
Kindness costs us nothing.
Hate costs as everything.
We live in a world full of opportunities overflowing with natural beauty, endless experiences, and love. We live in a world with constant co
We live in a world filled with hate, cruelty, disrespect, and an unwillingness to accept that which makes us human. There are endless peopl
Queer by C.M. Townsend
Being queer is more than a title or label. Queer is a poem to celebrate and unite. I originally posted it on my blog for Pride month; and while a person's identity as queer and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community is not limited to one month a year, it is a time to come together and celebrate, commemorate, remember, and fight.
A poem to celebrate. A poem to unite. Pride month is here, and while a person's identity as queer and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community is
Silence by C.M. Townsend
Society habitually tries to silence its members when the narrative does not fit the desired outcome.
This poem calls it out, refusing to be silenced.
A war declared on voices against the grain, unbidden by societal— Enough ! Your words have been said, unclaimed and ignored, dismissed