#young writer

[wip-story]

Fun fact!

A character you’re gonna meet in the next part when I’m done releasing the first part is modeled a lot after my dad from when I was younger but like ramped up a lot…. Take that as you will :) :/

[penslol]

i wish i was writing rn

[we-luvadri]

The Concept Of My Story-Simple Version

In this world, there's three different types of humanity. Each one older than the last. The oldest wave of humanity is the ones living in the clouds, with floating islands to help with their way of life. The second oldest wave of humanity is those living underground, each city decked out in lights and beauty. The youngest wave of humanity is those living on the surface of the Earth. Those who are thee most favored by the Gods. For they act how humanity should. and want the things that humanity should.

[cherrystar4]

The Will to Freedom

Fly me up high to the scorned sky

Then lay me down on the smoking clouds

Bury me in their ash,

and suffocate my eyes with worthless pennies

Seeing life the same way I had when the breath had chased from my lungs.

For my last burdened bite—

Plant a head stone made of my own rotten teeth.

Take my essence and deform it into troublesome tales

Where private pieces of pain are displayed to be misunderstood by hating hoarders.

Let their fingers twirl into clenched fists as my name becomes whispers of wicked wind—

Becoming a defaced corpse of haunting hate and indefensible conspiracy.

Bestow my flesh with misunderstanding

For those who knew me lose all grasp of my neighbourly knowledge—

As the sands of my character run through the hourglass of truth.

But for those who truly did read me,

must feel not to vindicate my memory with their love in order to grieve me—

There is no need now as I have already lived how I needed to.

Alas,

mourn me with linguistic loathing.

And know as my marrow begins to tarnish,

That it has never known rest like this.

(First ever posted poem pls interact)

About being so loved in life but inlove with bad aspects of life and that hate holds no power after death

[we-luvadri]

☾✦☽

One day, I decided I want to create something. I wanted to create something that was talked about, loved, hated. Something that screams me, but also talks about teamwork, time, and patience. I wanted to create something original, I want to create something original. This is that something.

[nicrave]

Hello, I'm unsure how to start this.

I'm not commonly very good at asking for things, but my friend has opened a gofundme on my behalf to help me successfully move out from my current housing situation and in preparation for becoming financially independent especially during university.

If possible please feel free to donate even a small amount would be greatly appreciated.

I will be attempting to open writing commission, thought I am struggling to land a job due to a variation of reason, commission seems to be a way for me to earn that money I will be posting my writing shortly as samples. The commission are for anything fanfiction, oc's, original work or a simple sentence prompt.

Any and all help is greatly appreciated. Thank you ahead of time for reading this. The gfm link is below.

https://gofund.me/a40cfdf0a

[idunnohowtocommunicate]

(Vignette I wrote + self portrait I made)

Curls

My mother has straight hair like silken thread, yet my hair curls like spanish moss. My mothers hair is always tame, always kept tidy and untangled. Growing up I was always jealous, looking in the mirror and seeing a bird's nest similar to the nest of a southern masked weaver bird on my head. I remember the pain from when my mother used to brush my hair, neither of us knowing how to properly care for my curls. Brushing through the tangles of my hair felt like untangling the strings of the friendship bracelets I used to make at summer camp. Getting far into the candystripe pattern before realizing you made the wrong knot, and having to untangle the threads and start over again. That’s what it felt like, untangling jewelry chains and headphone strings felt easy compared to untangling my curls. The brush cut through my hair like attempting to cut through steel with a butter knife. Pulling and twisting, ripping and tugging at my hair to get it tame. When the tangles were finally undone, I’d look in the mirror and see my hair. It had turned from the tight nest of a southern masked weaver, to the pictures I had seen of mushroom clouds on television. My hair frizzed and fluffed up until it was sticking up in every direction and looking like the flowers of a powder puff tree. I remember the teasing voices from my classmates, seeing their pin-straight or wavy hair compared to the ratsnest I had atop my head. Some girls also had curly hair, but I didn't understand how they kept their hair tame at the time. Defined curls that were perfect little corkscrews. It wasn't until the summer of eight grade that I learned how they got their curls to look like that. July 30, 2024. My 13th birthday, the day I learned how to manage my curls. My hair has gone through many phases, but this was the one I liked best. I finally felt that the raincloud attached to me had stopped raining, The eternal tumbleweed that had been with me since birth stopped chasing me as my hair finally became something I wasn’t ashamed of. I no longer needed to fight the daily battle every morning to get my hair to behave. The fight was no longer needed when I realized it was better to befriend the beast. I didn't need to get rid of my curls, I just needed to learn how to care for them. My mother has straight hair, I have curly hair. The texture of our hair is different, but that makes us unique. It took me a long time to learn that, but I'm glad I eventually did.