Do Not. insinuate romantic relationships are more important than friendships on my post.

★

Kiana Khansmith
Three Goblin Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

ellievsbear
🪼
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
$LAYYYTER

No title available

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
dirt enthusiast
we're not kids anymore.

pixel skylines
almost home
No title available

shark vs the universe

No title available

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Singapore
seen from Australia

seen from Iraq

seen from Russia

seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from New Zealand

seen from United States

seen from Iraq

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Iraq

seen from Germany
seen from United States
@etu10110110
Do Not. insinuate romantic relationships are more important than friendships on my post.
kinda awesome when you can rope a blorbo into your mental breakdown especially if you can just give her your same issues. get over here tortured fictional woman we're in this TOGETHER
Another kind of diversity we need in writing is protagonists without love interests. Give me adults with full-fledged stories that don't include falling in love.
Got tired of seeing comedic and dark satire books ignored so I made my own list! This does not represent what I have personally read...
I wanted to make another book list but focused a tad more on humorous books, so I did!
How many have you read?
0
1-5
6-10
11-20
21-30
31-40
41-50
51-60
61-70
71-80
81-100
see results/i click buttons for fun
the Relationship Ambiguity Zone™️ is a beautiful place to be. safe place to put your characters. put all characters into Relationship Ambiguity Zone. is that guy your mentor or your dad? Ambiguous!!! are you friends or enemies? Ambiguous!!! is it romantic? is it platonic? is it sexual? Ambiguous!!!!!!! never categorize anything ever in the Relationship Ambiguity Zone. just make them fucking weird about each other.
You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.
I was twenty… twenty-five, I think?… when I was sentenced. Four hundred years was a length of time I couldn’t even imagine. It was a length of time I don’t think anyone could imagine, even the judge. It was just a big showy number that let everyone know I’d never see the light of day again. The mages who cast the spells were dramatic about it, practically shouting the part about ‘until death claims you, or four hundred years hath passed, forsooth, thou shalt be imprisoned here’. They don’t waste that kind of magic on most prisoners, but I was special.
The Slayer, they called me then. The Monster of Sentan. I’d killed nineteen people… I remember that number because I was so furious that they stopped me so close to my goal of twenty-one. And I didn’t just kill ordinary people, no, but the Chosen of the Gods. The Great and Good. They were terrified of me. So they locked me away, to die forgotten.
It had been a little less than a hundred years when the king died without heir, and a civil war tore the country apart. When the fighting was all over, the losers were dragged down to the deepest cells under the castle, and the new king and his soldiers stopped and stared at me. “Who… who is this?” he asked, frowning. “Some victim of the usurper?”
People like cooks and jailers and scrubbers don’t change as easily as kings. The same man who’d been bringing me my meals since there was still brown in his hair and beard shuffled forward, hunched and grey now. “No, yer majesty,” he said humbly. “That be a special prisoner, from before the old king died.”
“Special? Special how?” He frowned, moving closer to my cell. “The old king died more than ten years ago. This woman must have been a child then. What could she have done to - “
“Don’t get too close, yer majesty,” the old man said sharply. “That’s the Monster of Sentan… an’ she bites.”
That was true. I do bite.
Weiterlesen
Magic is a non-renewable resource. The only reason modern scientists had considered it a myth is because the wizards of previous eras eventually exhausted it. That was until an oil rig breeched an untapped reservoir by accident.
Checkout by Caroline Bird
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
This is my humble contribution to the writer community. Enjoy
and for the lady, perhaps a fking break?
the plot chickens (becomes scared of its own premise)
actually we should start headcanoning female characters as being terrible with children
stop mother-ifying fictional literally all female characters. that fictional woman would not know what the fuck to do with a child
i don't ship them i just think they could get ragebaited into having sex with each other
"My arm is all floppy. I'm like a puppet," Enchantress fretted, interrupting the babbling she'd been on for awhile now with sudden coherency. Ulfric startled out of his slackened position holding up a wall, instinctively turning away from the festivities to inspect her, emergency scenarios racing through his mind. But—he paused. Really looked at her—the pout and the upturned eyebrows, holding a limp hand in front of her—looking for all the world like someone had kicked her while he wasn't paying attention. Which... the woman was bafflingly drunk—but the timing matching when he had indeed stopped paying attention was... endearingly specific. "Is it? Hold out your arms, let me see," he requested, gentle and soft. Her arms reaching out as mirror images of one another, zero issues, made him raise a brow. Crossing his arms across his chest, he rocked back on his heel, chittering lightly. "Ah-huh. Perhaps I misheard. I recall you saying—just moments ago—that it was immovable?" "I said floppy, you can say that too—And then I said I was like a puppet," she grinned sideways, finishing her stretch with a glide into a cute little arched back, giggling up at him, the epitome of someone both bubbly, and someone who partook too much of the bubbles. "And... You needed someone to control you? Pull your strings?" He tried, he really did, to follow her joke. He evidently, however, tried to inject too much literality, considering the look she gave him. "No," she scoffed, full offense. "I need someone to hold me," she whined, her eyes practically sparkling up at him. When he didn't move instantly she turned to pouting again while she pulled her arms in to hug herself and rock gently, the picture of holdability such that she was giving an example to her thickskulled companion. He snorted, but let out a faux-weary sigh as he dropped down next to her, faithfully grabbing her waist over the silken fabric she'd worn tonight to pull her over his lap, her little giggles following along the way as her hands irresistibly made their way into the fur of his neck. She'd tucked herself into him like she'd had a slot waiting for her, front legs pulled together off one side of his lap, back legs dangling precariously off the edge behind her as she laid, turned on her hip. He saw no chance where he would be back on his feet before carrying her to bed. Fine with him.
Prompt used: "My arm is floppy. I'm like a puppet."
chat reminder to just write whatever the fuck you want. write that overused trope. write that obscure shit that no one will have heard of. just. do it. your writing is yours stop depriving it of that.
honestly in the era of AI slop it is more important than ever for you to write or draw that incredibly niche/strange/unpalatable thing you want to make. the world needs the unique weirdness of people more than ever