#creative venting

[theresawritesstuff]

Honestly I am so thoroughly bored of Disney's "live action" remakes. How about a hand drawn animated version of a live action classic for a change, huh? Really blow their minds!

Animated Mary Poppins and the chalk world is all live actors

Newsies done in paper textures. Or stop motion paper craft!

If you're gonna recycle your ideas at least make it interesting

[queendready]

The Itch

Burning ideas in my head are causing me to question my decision. Changing my title need be necessary if this idea continues to grow. Every day I feed my idea, pictures, videos, GIFs, everything. I'm fueling this new found fascination and I don't know if I want to stop. I'm itching. The tick creeps into my mind and talks to me. I am itching for the thrill, the adventure, the excitement. And I'm afraid my idea is so strong, I'll stop at nothing to make it a reality. The itch got me like... -tnh

[hazeddais-blog]

Everything I write always ends up about you...

Sometimes we look and we look and all we see is nothing. That’s how I feel. I’m searching and searching for something that matters or gives meaning to the confusion racing through my thoughts. I’m scared, so incredibly scared and I don’t know where to turn next. Then there’s you…. When I talk to you I feel happy again. When I see you I feel at ease besides the racing jolt of electricity your glance gives me. But you’re over there and I’m over here, and there is a wall separating us. A wall we built brick by brick. Everything inside me tells me I have to tear down the wall just to see you again, but every time my stubborn mind stops me. You’re everything I want, but everything I shouldn’t have. You’re smirk haunts my thoughts. You know, you’re still all I think about.. I wish things could be simple and I could just hate you, like I’m expected to. But I can’t hate you. I would love to, but I can’t…..

[eggtarrt]

Just go with it.

It's silly how when someone tells you they want to be apart & they don’t want to be a piece of you anymore, you question your whole existence. Like you were never a full individual before & you’ll never be one again. You question all the parts of you that a rough around the edges, but all over beautiful things. You wonder what piece of you made them leave.

What little thing you did obsessively was the end for them? Was it the way you left your wet towel on the floor after you dried your hair? Or the way you only drank out of mugs, never cups or bottles. But you’ll continue to do those things despite the worry that that pushed them over the edge with you. You’ll forget that when you woke up early, you sat in silence & pretended you were still asleep so you could feel their breath on your shoulder. Their blemishes will be more noticeable, their smile won’t melt your heart.

It’s strange, but eventually that spot in your body that beat fast when they were near will learn to calm down to an inaudible whimper. You won’t rush to them first with exciting news. And then soon you’ll be rushing into someone new, into their arms or into their bed. It’s inevitable. It’s exciting. It’s bright and promising. It’s the way things go, and sometimes you just have to learn to go with it.

[her-reidiance]

A particularly brutal way to dispose of scum (possible muse for a fic?)

You trudge the length of road to her house (doesn't matter if it's 100, or 1,000 or even 10,000 miles), knock on her door, and make your way in. When her father gets confrontational and demands an answer, you repsond with saying "I am here to take what's mine, and no one can stop me." Bait him. Make him angry. Make him attack. Then when he throws the first punch, let it hit. It's now legal to fight back in self defense. His next punch should be parried or dodged, then you must proceed to BEAT THE WASTE OF SPACE INTO THE DIRT. TAKE HIM BY THE HAND, AND BREAK IT. TAKE HIS FACE IN YOUR HANDS, AND PRESS HIS EYEBALLS INTO HIS SKULL WITH YOUR THUMBS. PUT HIS LIFE IN YOUR HANDS, SO YOU CAN TAKE IT! PULL EACH ONE OF HIS TEETH OUT AND MAKE HIM SWALLOW THEM, BREAK HIS LIMBS ONE BY ONE. DESTROY HIM, HUMILIATE HIM, MAKE HIM BEG FOR DEATH. Then...when he is at death's doorstep, stop. Let him whimper and bleed like a bitch, broken and torn apart, ears next to his detached fingers, coughing up blood and bits of bone. Stomp on his face once more for good measure, take your wife in hand, and then walk off into the horizon...

[the-great-wide-some-where]

Its wierd how something can make your day go from pretty fantastic, to crying in about an hour.

I dont know why you have this, sort of, underlying power over me. Still. I dont know how I can be almost at the point where I could go a few straight hours without thinking about you, and something as simple as a look snaps me into a relapse. I really dont know why I still feel this sort of teather to you. I dont know whats gonna happen. And Im starting to wonder if I ever will.