we live off of requests, reblogs, 'n bullshittin'
prompts tag is "#prompts list" if you want to make us write about your favorite character
18+ warningâ both for traditionally pornographic writings, for gore and bloody fics, and for some darker topics
mostly writing meme reblogs but we might post some of our prouder works over here, we tend to put this url into most authors notes these days, but our main, where we are infinitely more active, is @thedaygoesupinflames
first you gotta do the build up and then the actual fucking and the fucking is pretty easy but you never know how long the fucking should last, and eventually you're like "okay I'm tired of this" so the characters cum, but you're not done yet because you can't just end it at "he fucking nutted everywhere" you gotta keep going, and the characters have to chat a little or cry or think about how horrible they are or something and then you kinda don't know when to end that either so now you're 2k words in and you might have put too much self hatred and not enough sucking dick. so you wrap it up, and think well it's done now.
or sometimes you have it all perfect in your mind and you knock the whole thing out in 2 to 3 hours.
There is no drug on earth that can replicate the absolute euphoria of hitting a writing flow state at 2:00 AM. You arenât even typing anymore. You are a vessel. You are a channel for the gods. The characters are speaking directly into your brain and youâre just the stenographer trying to keep up. You feel like you could fight a bear. You feel like you invented the alphabet
The truth of the matter is that if youâre going to seriously pursue writing, not every line can go hard. It canât be hard 100% of the time, or the hard just becomes soft. Sometimes the line just has to get the writing from point a to point b.
Something neuroscience-y that helps with prose: attention is selective. A character will not notice everything in a room. They will notice what matters to their goal, fear, desire, training, wound, or obsession. A jealous character notices hands. a hungry character notices food. A soldier notices exits. A lonely character notices pairs. Description becomes character when attention has a bias.
like I mean this very seriously as writing advice. the character should experience events and make decisions that make them different at the end of the story. they should be changed. they do not have to be improved.
they can get worse. they can make decisions of an increasingly terrible nature. they can stop taking risks on kindness. they can discover how much they can get away with. they can find religion, or abandon it, with negative effects on their moral creed. the character has to develop. the character does not have to grow.
as much as i poke fun at âtumblr prose,â i will acknowledge that sometimes when youâre writing and youâre really in the groove, youâre really feeling yourself, youâre on your capital-a Author shit, and you write a line that makes you go, âoh yeah, this is the Good Shit. this is so Subtle and Says So Much. this is Characterization. this is Themes and Motifs. you could write a whole essay about this one line. the master of the craft strikes again!â and then a month or whatever later when youâre editing you read over it again with post-write clarity and you realize you wrote some real âpeople die when theyâre killedâ bullshit
Alright I have been enabled so Iâm gonna say somethings.
Fatalistic sarcasm is a thing, however, it usually hides deep feelings of insecurity, and whether you consciously recognize this or not, it validates them. Seriously, I used to constantly make jokes about how other peopleâs work was better than mine, and it did nothing for my self-esteem, it was a tool to deflect from my own feelings of inferiority and it actively worked against me thinking critically about my own and other peopleâs work. If it was a joke I could put myself down instead of analyzing why someoneâs work was better and trying to incorporate that into my own
As someone who took creative writing courses I was constantly surrounded by other brilliant people, if I hung my head in shame every time I read something as good or better than mine I never would have lifted it.Â
As someone who has watched a lot of writers with very good ideaâs crash and burn I mean it when I say you either develop a healthy sense of respect for your own work or you stop writing.Â
Thereâs three things I really wish more people consider
1. Do you think their work is better because itâs a different style, one that you like? Thereâs an element to âthe grass is greener on the other sideâ, I have seen people work in some amazing styles that I wished to god I could replicate, some I managed, some I never did, but thereâs nothing wrong with either. having a different style Is Not the same as having a bad style, each has their own strengths and you can admire one without putting yours down
2. Knowing someone who is a better writer is a blessing and if they knew you were using their work to bring yourself down they would not be happy, mooch off that friend, analyze their work, ask them to edit your shit, as long as youâre not annoying them be shameless about it. the best thing creative writing did for me was give me the confidence to ask people to critic my work and shamelessly better each other for that sharingÂ
3. People need to normalize being confident in their work, the quality of your work has literally nothing to do with your worth as a person, the quality of your work has nothing to do with your worth as a writer. You can write something really shitty and the only thing Iâd say to you is that your trying and I respect you for that
trying to get back into posting fic on tumblr, maybe, anyway, normal about them, full text of fic under cut
Araragi Koyomi doesn't want the right things, not really.
Or well, he wants the wrong things.
Sex, primarily. Sexy things if not outright sex given his current state of virginity. Playboy mags and pin-up calendars are nice.
He wants the wrong things and he doesn't want the right things to balance the humors in favor of respectability. Everyone wants to get laid, no? He'd imagine as much at least.
-/-/-/-
Senjougahara Hitagi calls him a slut, says he's riddled with STDs.
And he wishes he was.
At least he'd be getting some that way.
Araragi Koyomi bites back against the remarks best he can.
He folds under her pressure far too easily in fessing to virginity.
-/-/-/-
Araragi Koyomi does not want a girlfriend.
Senjougahara Hitagi wants a boyfriend, though.
And she's already held him at enough points (staples, pencils, pens, exactos) he's not sure how much he can say no to her if at all. No. She wants a boyfriend, and romance is the penultimate form of trading favors in her eye as far as he can tell.
So he has a girlfriend.
She has a boyfriend.
He asks her about sex.
She scoffs at the notion.
-/-/-/-
It's equivalent to sex, Araragi Koyomi supposes, as Senjougahara Hitagi runs an exacto along the curve of his abdomen. A ceasarian sort of cut, horizontal.
She won't fuck him, no.
But she will cut into him, an inverse of sex. The man is meant to penetrate, yet here she sits with him in his lap, cutting in in in as he squirms between her thighs, clawing at the fabric of her tights for purchase.
She tells him to hold still lest she pierce something vital.
He tells her no damage could begin to be fatal.
So she pierces him. Relentlessly. Repeatedly. Hands ever steady.
He's gasping, moaning, whimperingâ desperately arching his back as she extends the blade two notches deeper in, already plunged into his flesh. Cool metal, slick with blood, simply piercing him. Through the skin, the muscle, the fat, the organs, an adrenaline rush that muddles with arousal.
He isn't sure how it feels, hard and whiny and she does not touch him save for the tender flesh of his underbelly. Open and shut. Open and shut. Open and shut. No matter how deep she thrusts the blade, it shuts within seconds of the blade exiting the wound; blood spilling only on the inwards motion.
Senjougahara Hitagi calls him a freak, a perverted man with no room for love.
Araragi Koyomi subsedes to her observation, breath too heavy to speak in reply.
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