#writing practice.

[spidey-wave]

I have this crazy thing...

I never yield.

No matter what.

Doesn't matter if i am on 6th page of a 10 page assignment which is due in 5 mins.

Doesn't matter if I am running late and can't reach the place in 5 mins.

Doesn't matter if i am drunk as fuck.

Doesn't matter if I am tired from sport, and again got stuff to do at home.

Doesn't matter if I am being battered by the errors in code.

Doesn't matter if I am having no ideas to make a game.

Even in my dreams.

My brain knows it's unreal and hence holds back.

If i wanna do it...i just wanna do it.

It's like, my brain refuses to shut down before i do it.

My mind internally screaming "I am not giving up!" Even when the world, my people, my body, my sane working brain says it ain't happening.

It's the insane of us that we should cultivate.

Really!

[da-bestest-writer]

Intro

Hi, Call me gaelic, I'm an ameture writer looking to get some practice in with fics, And i also kinda look forward to sharing my headcanons and aus with yall. My main fandoms are as follows MHA One piece. Baki the grappler Kinnikuman Fire emblem three houses Persona 3,5, and spinoffs Adventure time. Homestuck. Digimon adventure, Tamers, and survive. And record of ragnarok I might have some others i forgot so don't be shy about asking. and here are Some ground rules for interaction.

i'll write nsfw and ships, And i'm not too picky about it provided its mostly m/f, But for the sake of those kinds of things all characters will be portrayed as 21+, Because 18 straddles the line of unacceptability a little too closely for my comfort. 2.I'll write about any fucked up thing you want as long as it doesn't conflict with rule 1., But other squicky subjects include Zoo, vore, and genital torture. 3.This should be kinda obvious, But this blog isn't for little ones, So i suggest you bail now. 4. If something i write upsets you you're free to request me tag it, Just don't be an ass about it. I'll probably ad to this list at a later point, But for now enjoy yourselves.

[nildespirandum]

Here we go...

@caffiend-queen 

Here are your three challenge ideas - they can be a story, a drabble, a scene that is part of an existing story or series, but it has to be a one and done.

1. A woman goes into a place - coffeeshop, bar, diner, fast food restaurant, etc. - and orders a drink.  She talks to someone who comes in and then leaves.

2. Three characters decide to start a podcast.  It can be on any subject you want, but it goes badly.

3. One character finds out another character has a hobby that they knew nothing about.  

Vague enough?  That is the idea.  Feel free to hate me now and send me back anything just as difficult.

[seungmo-x-nabi]

I entered a gold box with a crimson throne, and there upon it sat my desires and dreams. The more my feet moved, the longer the runner rug that leading me to my destination grew. It seemed the harder I struggled, the harder it became to reach what I really wanted, so my dreams faulted, and my desires were replaced with adequate items that provided me survival but failed to provide me with hope and passion. The runner slowly began to turn black, and the crimson throne began to fade until the tread on the rug faltered, and my feet began to fall through the once stable ground. Darkness began to devour me, and I held onto what I could, but those things that I had reached provided nothing for me. As my eyes closed, I ceased to exist, and my soul died a slow painful death along with those dreams and desires. Being a shell is nothing. I am nothing.

[scargut]

Time ran out. In the centre it changed, The home shook off its weight and took on its new ghosts. Leaves fell, for the last time. Eyes closed, for the last time. The laughter, the crying, the talking stopped for the last time. It did not end, it ceased, it waited for new meaning. And meaning attained without time, it was no longer this, us, them. Not grow, not fall, not stop. Rejoice for the word gone will soon go.

Those of us who look in the mirror and see fire. Who did nothing but ready our excuses, look forward to the time to ask forgiveness. Build the memorial and leave the date out. Our last questions will be thus: Did I let the world die because I am afraid of my father? Did I let it all die because I am tired? Because of my job? Because of my no-job? They made protest irrelevant. They burned down democracy in order to save it. They made headlines out of it.

I am not safe in England anymore.

[intjcanbelieveit]

Sample Text

Sunrise reaches over the hills of the green land. Golden fingers touch the tops of the trees, soaking the entire land in the warmth in its warm embrace. At this time in the morning pure magic could be felt, walk amongst the settling mists and dews, resting with the trees, which then roll like one arousing himself from slumber, and fairy dust is sure to be seen. Dew on the masters of weaving’s long-planned projects glinted, but were only fleeting as the warmth spread across the valley.

Nestled as a bird in her nest was a cottage; tucked away in the hills she was snug. She was coated with cheerful textured walls of a harvest yellow with humble, thatched, straw roof. All around her was a white fence and closest to her were little bushes which bloomed purple flowers in the early spring. She began to wake at the early morning when the light began to gently caress her meek covering. Her friend, the gallant rooster, strikes up his chorus to rouse her tenants. He crows as any rich, proud bird would; beckoning the rays of the dawn to come further. The quiet babble of the brook, which had always comforted the little cottage when her lodgers are away, raises his voice to a steady murmur as the snow from the deep mountains rushes to meet with him and run down his winding path with him.

The sounds of the rising morning soon rouse the inhabitants of the cheerful little cottage. Those living within the little cottage’s care are one young man and one young woman. They love each other more than having the sun rise in the morning or the cool moon in the evening after a hot summer day. The two found refuge in this little valley filled with great oaks and bristling pines after finding life outside the quiet valley amongst the townsfolk overwhelming.

[auntievenka]

Genius!!

I have been writing a story for a long time and its not going as I thought. I told a friend the premise and she said it sounds scary. Scary? Like a Horror?

Bingo! That was the problem! I had been writing this story like it was a normal dramatic novel but really its horrific! :D Like super disturbing. I realized the problem is that I have never read a horror fic or watched anything like it because they are not my style.  

Side note: I am description heavy on my characters. Waaayyy tooo  much, like poetic way. I should leave characters more up to the reader so they can have some control I guess.  I think about how a body contours under certain situation and now I need to find phrasing.