Scribbles of Some Substance

A blog for writing commissions, role play, and little blurbs. I'm friendly, feel free to message me!

[scribblenaught]

Robbed

Do you ever feel robbed?

Not like some masked man that came in and took our precious things

But robbed of dreams you used to have, as a child

Like getting to travel to space, or own a house

For some of us, the dream is unachievable

But not because we were lazy

Not because we didn’t try our hardest, or because we just didn’t make the cut

We were robbed

We were told if we worked hard, and were good, and had a family

That we could be or do anything we wanted to be

Books, TV shows, the space race, our parents

False prophets spilling the words they grew up on, words they breathed as faithfully as air

Words that were never, not once, meant for us

I feel robbed

Robbed of the security that came with the idea that I could have a future

A future unburdened, filled with love unsuppressed

Traumaless, guiltless, weightless, free

Free like a bird spreading its wings

Flying for the thousandth time into the sunrise

You were robbed

Sometimes you don’t know it, you keep telling yourself,

‘I did what was right. I did what was best for me.

I took care of the enemy. I fight what is different and unknown, that’s justice’

But what you tell yourself is a lie

You were robbed by the men and women that see you as a mere tool

One that was used effectively

A tool that they fueled with hate and bitterness, a lie

One day, you can be just like them

If you work hard, and you do as you’re told, if you follow the rules

The little temporarily embarrassed millionaires that you are

We were robbed

Some of us don’t know it, living unaffected

Just the same, oblivious to the privilege that is

Some of us know it, and could do nothing but stare

Shocked, as the violation settled in

Realizing the betrayal when it feels far too late

Some of us let the robber in

And offered them a drink

And a comfy place to sit

[scribblenaught]

Son Las Bonita

There used to be an old woman

That would come into my old job

Being a cashier sucked sometimes

But she made it worth it

Like the lady with the pet pig Pancake

Who would buy a crap ton of food

And update me on how her "teacup pig" was still growing

But this little old lady was special

She would sing to me in Spanish

I don't remember the words anymore, not well

But I think about this nice old lady

Who sang my name, and told me that I was pretty

At a time where I definitely didn't feel it

The last time I spoke to her

She told me she was going home

I think about her every now and then

How she brought light into my sad days

When she didn't have to

And I hope that in this mad world of craziness

That she's doing okay

I hope she's singing to another cashier

Making up a little tune for their name

And telling them that they're pretty

At a time where they need it most

Even if she doesn't know it

[katekanemybeloved-deactivated20]

Just a reminder to anyone who will listen! There’s a huge cold front coming up in America right now and I want to remind everyone to NEVER use or rely on a gas stove to heat up your home. You will die. If your power goes out, the best thing you can do is cover your windows, or get to an area in your house with no windows, and bundle up to the best of your ability to conserve heat. I know generating heat with whatever you have sounds good in theory, but we lost a LOT of people to carbon monoxide poisoning in last years Texas Freeze because many relied on gas stoves and other propane heat sources. A lot of people went to bed and never woke up. Please be aware of the things you can’t see, like fumes from your generator, built up gas when starting a car in an enclosed space, and of course, the excess carbon monoxide that can be generated by leaving a gas stove on for too long.

[scribblenaught]

Memories

I have found that I don’t think of memories

I cling to them

I bury them in other dreams and bites of my past

Like a game of hats

Where one hat stacks over another

And consumes the first until you only see the lip

I link my memories to little trinkets

Desperate to remember the good times

And forget the bad

Some of my trinkets are like memory-ception

A mug I made in high school in my ceramics class

Filled almost to the brim with little toys and baubles

Sometimes, though I remember the bauble

I find I can no longer remember the memory that used to be behind it

I look at the thing with fondness and feel warmth in my chest

But the why always escapes me

My memories are like the nuts of a squirrel

Buried before a coming winter

Only to be discovered again by my future self

Little surprises, morsels of joy

Gifts I gave to myself without meaning to.

Every now and again the joy will hide a hurt

Things I kept for myself as reminders

Wrapped in little threads of sadness

That hit me like a stone

I take some of the baubles with me

Chasing that joy I felt just a moment before

And bury the stones again

‘Cause I remembered why I put them there in the first place

At the very bottom, under everything else

To hide what I wanted to forget

[writing-prompt-s]

The Hero is secretly gay. Unfortunately, the Villain doesn't know this and keeps kidnapping the Hero's best female friend, thinking that she's the love interest. Even more unfortunate, she's finally had enough.

[scribblenaught]

"You don't know a damn thing about him, do you?"

Von Drake looked stunned, like Clarissa slapped him in the face. "What do you mean? How--- how DARE you talk to me like that! You're surrounded by a pool of sharks and sharp objects and--- why the hell aren't you afraid?"

"We've been doing this song and dance for years, Dr. Starshine, and I've had it up to here with you---" Clarissa shifted her shoulder, trying to express 'here' even without the ability to move her bound arms. "To--- anyway, you get what I mean. I've seen all of your tricks by now. Hell, I know you better than your supposed nemesis."

"I know EVERYTHING about my nemesis, Miss Gale. Why do you think YOU'RE here?" Von Drake leaned forward, his arms folded, his mouth curling into a smirk. He seemed so self-satisfied. Clarissa wished she had a spoon he would gag her with.

"Because you're so absolutely oblivious that you can't tell the difference between 'girlfriend' and 'girl friend'. Like, honestly, you're so dense you make a bowling ball look fragile!" Clarissa kicked a foot out to point her toe at the tank below her. "And you and I both know you took the teeth out of your pet sharks because you were paying too many insurance premiums for your injured minions."

Somewhere off to the left, from the dark, someone coughed uncomfortably.

"I resent your bowling ball comment. But I stand by the fact that Aqua Ant comes to save you every time! So who ELSE would be his girlfriend?" Von Drake pressed a button on his handheld remote, closing the tank from the top closed. Defeated, for Clarissa was right.

"For the love of Odin, dipshit! He doesn't have a girlfriend! He has a boyfriend! The only reason I haven't said anything is because I didn't want to out him! But at this point even HE'S tired of the mistake! He comes and gets me because I'm his bestie and he's a GOOD PERSON." Clarissa was sure she'd feel guilty about it later, but currently she'd had just about all she could take of these shenanigans. And in the light of things, even Von Drake had had more than enough clues.

"Well of course he's a "good person"!" Von Drake argued sarcastically, using his fingers to pantomime out quotation marks. "But if you're not his girlfriend, then who is? I need to capture her. If I interrogate this other boy friend, will he tell me where she is?" Von Drake turned and stroked his ridiculous goatee, looking out of the gallery windows of his underwater lair. "If I were to get my hands on the hero's true love interest, I'm sure I could convince him to join me for her safety. Then, the entirety of Meta County will be mine!"

Clarissa leaned back in her chair and groaned. It was going to be a long night.

[scribblenaught]

[writing-prompt-s]

When you were a child you had an imaginary friend who lived in the sea and went on adventures with. The last time you saw them, you shared in a strange personal ceremony where you joined hands. Now, after all these years, a hooded merfolk arrives on your doorstep claiming to be your betrothed.

[scribblenaught]

I had to rub my eyes to make sure what I was seeing was even real. Let alone what I was hearing. But there she was, still standing there. I could still see traces of the old Niriya in her face, features that over time had sharpened. She was even more beautiful now than she was when I'd imagined her. Except . . . I hadn't imagined her. From her large, golden eyes to her undulating gills, she was real.

Her gills.

I yanked her inside, ignoring what she'd first said, just for now. "Water. We need water. A bucket. I think I have a bucket somewhere. Fuck! Where is it?"

Niriya's laugh stopped me in my tracks. I whirled around to stare at her with wide eyes, but that only made her laugh more. "I can't fit in a bucket, Em. And I can be out of water a lot longer now. I'm glad you remembered, though."

"Oh." I felt my cheeks flushing and tried to hide it behind a curtain of hair. Cool fingers began to brush it behind my ear, and I stepped away, going for the kettle. "Tea?"

"Emily." Niriya's voice was softer now. She didn't follow me, but gave me space. Space she seemed to know I needed. "Should we talk about it? I know you probably didn't want to see me here, but . . . I had to see you."

I turned off the tap, shaking my head a little. "No. Wait, what? Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

"You just . . . Disappeared."

"I was a kid, Niriya. I . . . Everyone was telling me you were imaginary. And after we moved, I really believed it. At least, until now. Are we really betrothed? Did I hear you right?"

Niriya took a seat at my table. It made the situation feel even further surreal. I thought I saw her shed some scales as she went. "Do you remember when I gave you that big shell? And you held my hand, and we made all of those promises?"

"Mostly. I don't remember the words anymore." I sank into the seat across from her, watching the tea steep, turning the clear water a ruddy brown. "It was a really long time ago, Ri."

She gave me a fleeing smile. But reached for my hand. "I know you still have the shell, though. I've still got the other one. You still whisper into it sometimes."

I blushed again. But didn't pull away this time. "Yeah. Sometimes . . . I guess I did think I was talking to you. You were my only friend back then."

"Do you still feel the same? As you did all of those years ago?"

I paused. It was a lot to take in all at once. And what did she really want me to say? "Of course I do.. I still love--- I mean, I don't know. It was different back then. I'm different. I don't live by the sea anymore. I've moved inland. How did you even get here?"

"I always said I would find you. And I meant it. Oh, Em, please come back with me." Niriya took both of my hands, clasping them in hers. "Let me sweep you away. I've never stopped thinking about you. We're old enough now. We can be bonded for life. Wasn't that something you always said you wanted?"

"When I was a child, Ri." I looked down at her hands, counting the scales. She felt so cold, but she was also so soft. I remembered that. Even before she touched me. "I thought I was asking for a forever friend. And I couldn't even do that. Ri, I can't breathe underwater. And you need to be at least near it. I don't think a bath twice daily will work that way."

"We can make it work. You can move to the seaside with me again. Come with me on adventures, just like we did when we were kids. You used to be so fearless. Let me give that feeling back to you."

She was right. I'd changed so much, but she hadn't. She was the same old RI. The more we talked, the more I realized I'd missed her. I'd missed all of this. The sound of adventure was only a train ride away. But . . . "I can't. I have a house. And a job. And my parents— my parents would flip. Ri, I . . . I'm so glad you're here, but . . . But I . . ."

She squeezed my hands in hers, leaning up and forward. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine. They tasted like the sea, and she smelled like salty air. Warm sand. Our lips danced together for what felt like forever. She was crossing the table, pulling me up against her. Our bodies coming together to create one single cursive line. Before I knew it, we were laying together, her arms around me. Fingers stroking through my hair. Chasing our breath. Her skin was warmer now after being against mine. But it was nothing like the warmth of her voice.

 "Stay with me, Em. Please stay with me. Give me a month. Two months. Two months for us to figure it out. If it doesn't work, you can come back here. Can you give me two months?"My heart was pounding. It whirred in my chest and ears. But the fear didn't seem so large anymore.

"Okay."

[scribblenaught]

Writing Prompt: Something Blue ): Mood Setting

"I never should have left you."

"Don't start that, Arthur. You know where it goes."

There was a pause. A silence that languished in a melancholy they both knew very well.

"It doesn't change how I feel, Matt. There's a lot . . . There's a lot of time here that we would've spent. I wasted it."

"You're drunk again. Maybe we shouldn't be talking tonight." She started to leave, but his hand reached out and latched onto hers, clasping her cool fingers in the warmth of his own.

"I'm not drunk. There . . . You're fair to think I have been. But not tonight. I just— I wanted to say something. Something clearly, just this once."

For a heartbeat, he was so sure that she would pull away. And leave, just as he'd done to her. But she was different than he was. Her touch fell away, leaving his empty again. 

"I took you for granted. For far too long. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for that. I truly am. You're so much better than me. You were there, all of the time. You always were."

"I was your friend, Arthur. That's how friendship is supposed to work. Through the good days, and the bad days. It meant something."

He felt his heart sinking at the use of her past tense. But he couldn't deny that it wasn't deserved. He wrung his hands, feeling the silence creeping back in. 

"What are you going to do now?" Her long hair hid her face, but he still heard the tones. Hesitant, with attempts to at least appear interested.

"I don't know. I never thought about it. Maybe more work. I don't have much else left to me. It's all over."

A few times she drew a breath as though she were going to say something. He guessed words like But you have to have more, or Now, don't be like that. He also guessed that she was finding the words to be untrue as they almost slipped past her teeth. Presently, she said, "You have time ahead of you. And a foundation. You can still build something with your life. It doesn't have to be all work now, you know. There's more to all this than that."

"Maybe, yes. I suppose." He paused, trying to find the right words. They seemed reluctant to come. "Mattie, would you ever give me another chance?"

Her answer didn't come quickly. It was slow. Painfully so. "I . . . don't know. You never made anything easy. I doubt you ever will."

"I thought you didn't like easy." He tried a laugh. And thought maybe he saw one hiding in the deepest corners of her lips.

"I don't. But . . ."

The words trailed off. He rested his hands in the banister, still wringing his fingers. For a very long time, they just looked out at the skyline. Oranges and pinks melding into blues and purples. But the stars hadn't yet rolled out of bed. He kept his face resolutely turned away from her, trying to hide all of the feelings that had come to overwhelm him. "That's alright."

Cool fingers slid into the spaces between his own, locking in. The movement was still cautious, but not halting. Careful confidence. He felt the smile again, and this time it lasted a little longer. The hand didn't leave.

[callingthemuses]

Hello hello~

This is your friendly reminder to NOT shit on people’s original characters. 

Wanna know WHY?

Cause in literally every media you consume, the ‘canon’ characters you love in established fandoms are someone’s original characters that just happened to be published.

So next time you go to make fun of people for writing / RPing / drawing their original characters remember that. Ya fuckin’ hypocrites. I will fight you in a Denny’s parking lot.  

[thecollectibles]

Art by Thomi

[thatwritergirlsblog]

Tips for Writing a Difficult Scene

Every writer inevitably gets to that scene that just doesn't want to work. It doesn't flow, no matter how hard you try. Well, here are some things to try to get out of that rut:

1. Change the weather

I know this doesn't sound like it'll make much of a difference, but trust me when I say it does.

Every single time I've tried this, it worked and the scene flowed magically.

2. Change the POV

If your book has multiple POV characters, it might be a good idea to switch the scene to another character's perspective.

9/10 times, this will make the scene flow better.

3. Start the scene earlier/later

Oftentimes, a scene just doesn't work because you're not starting in the right place.

Perhaps you're starting too late and giving too little context. Perhaps some description or character introspection is needed before you dive in.

Alternatively, you may be taking too long to get to the actual point of the scene. Would it help to dive straight into the action without much ado?

4. Write only the dialogue

If your scene involves dialogue, it can help immensely to write only the spoken words the first time round.

It's even better if you highlight different characters' speech in different colors.

Then, later on, you can go back and fill in the dialogue tags, description etc.

5. Fuck it and use a placeholder

If nothing works, it's time to move on.

Rather than perpetually getting stuck on that one scene, use a placeholder. Something like: [they escape somehow] or [big emotional talk].

And then continue with the draft.

This'll help you keep momentum and, maybe, make the scene easier to write later on once you have a better grasp on the plot and characters.

Trust me, I do this all the time.

It can take some practice to get past your Type A brain screaming at you, but it's worth it.

So, those are some things to try when a scene is being difficult. I hope that these tips help :)

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment with your own tips. Follow me for similar content.

[introvert-unicorn-deactivated20]

A list of winter aesthetics

Holding hands under blankets

Listening to old songs and letting them carry you to an another time

Owning a journal and filling it with your favourite moments of the season so you won't forget about them because they will become moments from your past one day so they are important

Picking up a random book from your dusty shelf and daring to finish it

Covering yourself with tones of clothes from head to toe

Sleepovers with friends

Having lunch dates with friends in their car while the rain is pouring outside

Hydrating and moisturizing

Drawing symbols on the windows covered with humidity

Spending your free time napping or getting cozy under your blankets while watching your favorite movie

Making handmade cards then sending them to your dearest people

Rescuing stray cats and giving them shelter

Romanticizing your life by thinking that everything you do is worth the care and admiration

Reading, reading and reading

Going to art exhibitions of artists you've never heard of

Long walks alone or with your friends and making up back stories for people you see on the street

Waking up early than usual when the world is still asleep

Listening to some playlists made by strangers on the internet

The agreeable warmth of your cocoa cup between your hands

Feeling the delicate coldness of the snowflakes on your skin

[writing-prompt-s]

The dragon has always slept on a mountain of gold simply because it’s comfier than the ground and it never found anything else that could survive its bulk. In the name of unimaginable wealth, you begin your quest to build the world’s strongest, most fireproof Triple Superking size bed.

[scribblenaught]

Morag had been the local dragon for quite some time. She wasn't the typical dragon; the ones you hear about stealing gold, fighting knights, stealing princesses. To be quite honest, the village had just kind of grown around HER. It was HER that most of our gold eventually went to. In exchange for pay, she flew out and got precious goods to sell them to us, and picked up goods to fly back to some other place. If not for her, our village wouldn't have been quite so prosperous. What was typical of her, as with all dragons, was perhaps the inestimable amount of gold she herself must've had. There were bets, wagers, and arguments about it every night when the tavern started to get a little bit too rowdy.

I, myself, hadn't grown up here. As a mason trained under my father, who was trained by his father, I'd come to Fallhold with the intention of making money, my fortune. In my ten years of living here, I'd maybe gotten to see Morag a handful of times. I'd made a little bit of money, but . . . One always wonders. How much gold did Morag have, that she was just sitting on? And how did one get it out from under her?

Stealing it sure as hel wasn't an option. Thieves had tried. The village as a whole mostly just shook their head when Morag brought back the charred corpses and warned that any other thrives would be handled accordingly. Almost quite like a monarch, she then flew back like a regal sail across the sky to her faraway lair. She didn't seem keen to spend it on much lately, either. There were stories of her coming to participate in trade, but mostly in items--- armor, shields, circlets and fancy jewelry that had "dug into uncomfortable nooks and crannies". But no gold. She only took, not paid. I don't know when I got the idea in my head. It just . . . Popped in there. If a dragon only used gold for a bed, how much gold would she pay to get one that actually worked? That's when the plan began. It would be some time before it fully hatched. Packing up my tools, some of my sketches, and receipts and reviews of my work, I started my trek.

Getting there was part of the journey and I won't bore you with that tale for now, my friends, but let me tell you--- dragons must pick their mountain homes for the view alone. And before you ask, of course I didn't just go in there willy nilly. I'm a respectable individual and hear you me, I wouldn't just wander into a dragon's home like I owned the place. But being as there weren't no bell or a door to knock on, I found myself instead standing quite the picture on the threshold of the lair and calling out, "HULLOOOO?"

Imagine my surprise, of course, when I got quite the response.

"No need to shout. I'm quite old, but nowhere near deaf yet. Who are you? What is it that you want?"

I, dear friends, introduced myself as best I could and what I was doing there. As you all know, it's never wise to lie to a dragon. They can see through you in a heartbeat and take great offense to being seen as fools. Morag seemed confused by my offer, and then quite interested as I explained in further detail. She invited me in, I showed her my documents, all of the proper references and of course identification (dragons are, excuse my pun, draconically beaurocratic when it comes to business) and discussions began.

Making the plans for a dragon size bed was no easy feet. Wood and pillows with feathers wouldn't do, of course. The wood and the cloth would break under her bulk if they didn't get charred up in the wake of her fire. My first ideas were no better than a handful of decorative slabs of stone that I would pull from the mountain itself. She insisted she didn't much take to the idea of sleeping on the cold floor, and in response I thought of our compromise: a bed of stone, inlaid with jewels and structured to fit the expanse of her size built specifically into her bedchamber. I would use the softer stones for the mattress of sorts, to be replaced occasionally like any of yours or my mattress (these kinds of limitations of course put in for practicality's sake and for future business matters) while the main structure would be of the strongest stone in flying distance, featured with an under-stone fireplace for a heated bed. I'm delighted to say Morag accepted the offer. After a contract agreeing that I would be paid over time as I made the thing as well as a total sum after, and she would get to watch as a source of entertainment, work began.

Now, in all of my years I don't think I've taken on a bigger project. I felt as though I were making a castle, only a very flat one. Nor have I had such conversations. Dragons like riddles, and they especially seem to like paradoxes. Nothing like a riddle to pass the time and a paradox to keep you awake at night. And out of all of our talks I think I got to know her quite well. As the years wet by and I got closer and closer to completing the project, the closer and closer I felt to the old girl herself. Eventually, it felt more like a favor than a job. My reward was the friendship I got along the way. Believe you me, in the end, she got her bed, and I think we're both very happy with the results.

What was that? The gold? Of COURSE I took the gold. I'm filthy rich!

[scribblenaught]

Hello!!

I'm gonna go ahead and say that I'm looking for some RP partners. I have a few OCs that I can easily mold to an intended setting, and am very friendly and open to most rp. I have a couple of superhero OCs, some dragon OCs, a werewolf OC and ideas laying around that I can probably model into something new.

I do:

Fantasy, sy-fy, fluff, romance, post-apocalyptic, LGBTQ+ FRIENDLY

I don't do:

NSFW*, fetish

A few of my characters:

Darren Palmer | Electrokinetic, friendly, sociable, musical, straight

Levi Snicket | Energetic, artist w/ a metal arm, one hell of a temper though, his superhero version does portals, gay

Alec | Werewolf, grumpy, aloof, really a big old softie on the inside, monster hunter, bi

Taelon | Dragon w/ human form if needed, Bookish, loves to write, horror fan, HELLA SHY, pan

Tristesse | Witch, sarcastic, laid back, dry sense of humor, kinda a little terrifying, ace

Missoria | Dragon w/ human form if needed, headstrong, vain, kinda a little stupid, adventurous, straight

I have a lot more guys. A lot more. Like a whole box.

*I MAY BE willing to do some NSFW after we've built a relationship and some stories, but I'm not comfortable with writing that stuff all of the time out of the blue when I do RP's.

[sosuperawesome]

Devin Elle Kurtz on Instagram

[poetry-siir]

“I think one of the saddest things is when two people really get to know each other: their secrets, their fears, their favourite things, what they love, what they hate, literally everything, and then they go back to being strangers. It’s like you have to walk past them and pretend like you never knew them, never even talked to them before, when really, you know everything about them.”

—

[tonysopranobignaturals-deactiva]

Sigma female grindset