#shitty shitty shitty writing

[jesseevelann]

Nightmares.

Rare, but impactful.

It's terrifying, the power they hold.

Flashes of trauma, fears and pain, uncontrollable in the sleeping mind. Unconscious, unmoving, unsuspecting victims to terrors and frights. Attacking the core, breaking even the strongest of people.

They are rare until it decides to change the playing field, cheating a game it created. It is the brain, the most powerful tool in the body. The mind controls everything, and in return it wants extensive care.

Caring is typically easy. Food, water, sleep, and it's satisfied. But an exhausted ambassador of the Hidden Sand village can quite easily forget to do the simplest thing of sleeping. Now, she pays the price.

Jolting awake in a sweat, eyes heavy but opened wider than ever, nails digging into the cushions of her couch.

Flashes of her brothers' faces appeared, the dream replaying in her head. Their faces, smiling and pure, beaming with joy. Only to burn. Fire and chaos consumed them; even though it was a figment of imagination, Temari could feel the burn on her skin.

Flames and blades from unknown ninja tore her brothers apart, shredding their skin right before her eyes. Her pathetic, disgraceful eyes. They screamed in agony, begging for help, crying and shouting before a silence much louder than the screaming.

Temari clutched at her chest, breathing heavily and loud, her fingers shaking in horror. She looked to the stairs, Gaara and Kankuro's bags were still there.

"Tema...? Are you okay?"

Gaara's sofr, but deep voice rang in her ear, white noise and a horrible beep joining it. Gaara sat next to her on the couch, wrapping his arms tight around her. Slowly, her breathing settled.

Temari held Gaara tightly, patting him down for any serious injuries, Gaara sat as still as possible for her. Temari sighed in relief when everything was clear.

"Yeah... yeah I'm okay"

#temari no sabaku #sabaku no temari #gaara no sabaku #sabaku no gaara #kankuro no sabaku #sabaku no kankuro #naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto the next generation #shitty writing #shitty shitty shitty writing #tw nightmares

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

#if there were a fourth soldier it would be my shitty jokes #meme #writing meme #fic writing

[hallwriteblr]

to you, it's a shitty sentence. to some random bitch 500 miles away, it's a fire line that'll haunt them for the next 17 years.

you don't know how impactful your writing is because it's been in your brain for far too long now. you've stared at it for hours and repeated "this sucks" over and over again to the point that you killed your capacity to feel anything about your work.

but trust me, once you get your shit out there, someone's gonna go over that paragraph you hate and go "jesus fucking christ" and put the book down to have an existential crisis.

#writeblr #motivation #encouragement #writer #writers #writing community #writers of tumblr #writerscommunity #it's also a matter of different life experiences yknow yknow #someone couldve gone through something that leads to that shitty sentence hitting them harder than it hit you #so write shitty sentences #scheduled #my posts

[sttoru]

imagining TOJI as the type of man who swears that he doesn’t like those corny dramas you watch. . .

you’re laying back on the couch whilst watching your favourite drama. it’s getting to the good part where the husband gets confronted for cheating on his wife. a satisfying revenge you’ve waited so long for.

and apparently one that toji has waited on too.

you didn’t even notice toji shuffling closer to the television, standing a few steps away from the screen. his strong arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are glued to the scene unfolding in front of him.

you recall him telling you earlier that your show was ‘stupid’. he refused to watch it with you, telling you that he had other things to do. you shrugged it off. you’re used to toji not being much of a romantic guy anyway.

a satisfying slap echoes throughout the living room as the wife in the drama backhands her husband. toji chuckles lowly and shakes his head, “heh, bastard deserves more than that.”

you couldn’t focus on the television anymore and instead turn to watch toji’s entertaining reactions. it’s adorable to see how he’s enjoying the show more than you are. you don’t think he even knows you’re looking at him. he’s too absorbed by the show playing.

another slap. and another. seems like the female lead is going all out. her yelling is loud too. toji nods his head in content—the scarred corner of his lips curling up into a grin, “tha’s more like it. uh-huh.”

you giggle quietly and comment on the scene as well, “that was quite satisfying, right?”

“yeah, she should’ve kicked him in the balls thou—”toji subconsciously answers before he stops mid-sentence. he slowly turns his head and sees you staring at him with a big ass smile. that’s when he finally realises;

“oh.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #just a shitty thought LOL

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏

thinking about luke as your mom’s friend’s son who only comes over when your parents hang out…yk the one….anyway here’s a shitty drabble

being all awkward smiles and painful small talk for the first hour of whatever family event your parents had dragged you to this time.

indulging in more than a few cocktails that your older cousins snuck to each of you from the bar.

(the dodgy bar in the dodgy events building that had been hired out for whatever birthday party/baby shower/bat mitzvah was happening. you didn’t really care all that much, anyway.)

the liquid courage fuelling the conversation, pulling up old memories you had buried and bubbling over the giggles you shared as you drank in the corner.

getting progressively tipsy, sharing secret smirks when your mom passed a comment about how “it was as if you two had never been apart!”

luke’s hand in yours — older, mature, callused; so different from how they used to feel when you were kids, although those memories were fading, being replaced with something much more carnal. something you were less likely to share over a cocktail at a family party.

sneaking away from the crowds — easy enough, everyone was drunk.

cutting through hallways, passing the drunkards who lingered outside of the chaos. they were smoking, arguing on the phone, waiting for a cab, looking for the bathroom. you?

you were being pressed against the wall of an empty stairwell, gasping quietly at luke’s mouth on yours. his hands on your waist, then your back, your arms, the sides of your neck. everywhere he’d been thinking about touching since he knew what touching meant.

and you were the same. fingers under his blazer, dipping into his waistband for a teasing second before returning to the outside world — but he noticed. how could he not? the firm pull of your body against his was response enough, his right hand coming down to hitch your leg around his hip.

your crotches burned with desire, rubbing against each other with every small movement of your bodies. aching for more whenever you paused for just a second because you thought you could hear someone passing the bottom of the stairs a few feet below you. all they would have to do is ascend the first set, and they’d spot you there. but neither of you cared.

luke inching a hand up your dress, dipping his fingers beneath your panties and huffing into your ear when your wetness coated them after one stroke. your own hand, fiddling with his belt and making sure nobody heard the clanging of the buckle as you undid it with fervour, eagerly searching for his cock once you could stick your hand in there to your wrist comfortably.

moaning in each-other’s ears. grinding on each-other’s hands. sucking in deep gulps of air whenever you got too loud, whenever the slurring speech of an uncle you’d never met faded in, and then out of shot.

luke cumming in his underwear, your hips spitting and sputtering against his palm only moments later.

cleaning yourselves up, catching your parents at the bottom of the stairs just as they passed by in search of you. sharing a look.

in the years you’d known him, you’d never exchanged socials. you didn’t need to. you just hoped he would be at the next family function.

#you can write about this concept if you want #because this is shitty and rushed #pls tag me if you do #i wanna read it #@mills drabbles #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan

[g4ll0wd4nc3r]

idk how to word this but bg3 fans have convinced themselves that astarion is some dark suave devoted romantic with surprising humor. the people yearn for minthara but settle for a man.

#i don’t hate astarion i think he’s fine but i will never understand some of the way people write him #if minthara were a man the murdering the grove thing wouldn’t have ever been an issue #like we can like shitty pathetic men but i draw the line at lying

[batty-pham]

Danny working in retail.

Dead end job.

He always ends up at the nightshift.

Everyone thinks the bags under his eyes are because he can't sleep.

He gets told all the time that he "looks like death" and he always just replies "thanks"

He just sorta stands in the dark corner and customers don't notice him, but they sorta inherently know he's there and avoid him, but he moves and they about shit their pants.

#just a half assed idea #i think about danny working the night shift at some shitty job #like #alot actually #ill probably end up working it into a fic eventually #if i ever end up completing any fic im writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom

[54625]

ah, dreaming of being a bisexual farmer with both arms

#fitpac #qsmp #fitmc #fitmc sdv #fitmc stardew valley #fitmc stardew valley has reawoken the shitty finger drawn comics in me #54625art #it's not legible in Tumblr quality at all but the writing on Phil's shirt says “world's no1 farmer”

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Sanji x Reader

Word count: 854

We gender-neutral and short af today boys. This is crack treated semi-seriously lmao, and an actual drabble. I love idiot!readers, there isn't enough rep for us dumbasses. This is written with OPLA!Sanji in mind bc I dig the super effective suave vibe

Suggestive, there's swearing, the word cock is used once. Brief description. (Ha! Brief!)

Let's be real...Sanji might wears shirt stays....and that's hot as fuck

It was midday when you found yourself outside the men's quarters. You had been lounging around on the upper deck when Usopp had asked you to grab a wrench he'd left in his room. Fair enough, you weren't doing anything, wouldn't hurt to help. And so you padded off, making your way to the bedroom. It was the middle of the day, no one should be in there. You'd passed Zoro napping against some bags, you could still hear Luffy. Sanji definitely had to be in his domain of the kitchen. Still, you offered a quick courteous knock as you flung open the door to the men's quarters, wandering into the space with no preamble.

"Sorry boys, I gotta grab Usopp's- Holy shit!"

Sanji's head shot up to stare at you, cheeks lightly pink. He was stooped over, pants pooling at his knees. Sure, his thick thighs were enticing, and his position stuck that gorgeous ass out at a delicious angle, but your eyes were fixated on the crossing fabric that adorned his upper legs. Was that…a garter belt? You felt lightheaded at the view before you. He looked delectable. The cook quirked an eyebrow at your staring.

"See something you like, love?" He drawled, sending you a cocky grin. Sanji felt his ego swell when you tripped over your words. Had you actually paid attention, you'd notice how his usual clothes were covered in flour, but you weren't exactly the most perceptive.

"I…thighs." You spoke dumbly, causing you to mentally smack yourself. "I mean, sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in here at this time." 

With great hardship, you tore your eyes away from the garment. It looked like a garter belt, had to be! You always knew Sanji liked fashion, and that he could be a pervert, but you didn't expect him to be unembarrassed at being caught wearing lingerie. As if they were possessed, your eyes trailed their way back to his thighs. The elastic was biting into his thigh meat, bulk deliciously spilling over the edges. Saliva flooded your mouth. What you wouldn't give to touch them. To bite them. Fuck what if you-

Wait. 

Sanji had said something.

"Wha?" 

Nice going idiot.

Sanji had abandoned his grip on the trousers, gracefully dropping them and stepping out of the puddle of fabric. Your breath hitched as he turned to you.

Abort mission! 

Fuck you didn't even look at his underwear. Shit, fuck, that…that was clearly the outline of his cock, a pair of grey boxer briefs doing a horrible job at hiding his silhouette. You were thankful that the length of his dress shirt covered the majority, or you'd be due a visit to chopper from fainting.

"I said can I help you, love?"

An awkward cackle escaped your throat and you blushed. Oh, he could help you alright. Instead, you opened your dumb mouth again.

"Is that…why are you wearing a garter belt?"

Sanji froze. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Oh shit! Oh fuck!

You opened your mouth to apologise when that bell-like laugh permeated the awkwardness. 

"What?" He laughed incredulously. "They are shirt stays."

Sanji felt his heart squeeze when you cocked your head confused. You really had no idea how cute you were, did you? Trying to be polite and stop laughing, he coughed into his fist.

"They keep my shirt tucked in sweet thing. Can't be looking unprofessional around you cuties." Sanji winked, smirking with satisfaction as your face grew redder. He expected an 'oh' or a 'sorry'. He certainly didn't expect a;

"I'd call having no pants but lingerie on unprofessional."

"You were the one who bust in here!" He argued. "And it's not lingerie!"

"Ah…sorry about that. I meant to grab a wrench Usopp left in here. I…uh…I should go."

"Mmhmm." 

You wandered stiffly to where Usopp slept, finding the tool with ease, and trying desperately to not look at the cook. Sanji watched you, amusement clear on his face at your robotic movements. Wasting no time, you rushed back to the door. 

"Oh, uh, Sanji?" The man hummed in response. "I, uh, I'm sorry for thinking you were wearing lingerie. Not! Not that there's anything wrong if you were, you'd look hot in it. I mean! I….uh…no, you'd definitely look hot in it. What was I saying?"

Silence. Sanji was staring at you with wide eyes, face now red from your comments. You clicked your fingers.

"Right, right! You should probably put some clothes on. Don't want you catching a cold ha ha." You forced out a robotic laugh. "Sorry again."

You slammed the door shut, leaving a confused and slightly aroused man in your wake. Sanji sighed, making his way back to his sleeping area to change into clean clothes. The door creaked back open. Sanji groaned quietly. Who now?

"You have to admit, they are kinda slutty though, right? Sorry! Bye again!"

You were gone before Sanji could even process your words properly. He groaned audibly this time, raking his hands down his face. He needed a fucking smoke. You were going to be the death of him.

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla x reader #i scheduled this post baby it is 5am and i am fucking asLEEEEEP when this posts #okay so my formatting is doo doo ass bc i cant read very well? i have shitty vision lol so i prefer clear paragraphs #i also write everything on my phone like a monkey.

[jesseevelann]

Kakashi jumped at the crack of lightning, his breath hitching in his throat before he let out a quiet whimper. The room was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the window showing the flashes in the sky. It was ironic for him, the great copy ninja being scared of lightning and storms, when his biggest jutsu was lightning itself.

A fear sprouting from his childhood, after his fathers death. Harsh wind, loud booming crashes of thunder and lightning, terrified him more than death. Kakashi hated bad weather, even the rain he grew to despise. It was always a sign of a storm. Being alone made it so much worse.

His eyes were fixated on the window, watching the flash and flinching at the delayed boom. His teammates were in a separate room, hopefully fast asleep and unable to hear his pathetic sounds.

Tears slipped down his face, hard shivers running up his spine from the cold air. The blanket he held to his nose was far too thin to sooth him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hoping his exhaustion would let him sleep through the rest of it.

"Sensei...? Are you okay?" A tired voice called. Kakashi turned to the door, locking eyes with an exhausted Naruto.

"A-ah... Naruto, I uhm-"

Naruto walked over slowly, being careful to not make the floor boards creak. Kakashi wiped his eyes furiously, trying to get rid of the fast-falling tears. Naruto sat next to him on the floor.

Kakashi's froze as Naruto's hands grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away.

"You'll only hurt your eyes doing that..."

Slowly, Kakashi put his hands in his lap, Naruto's warmth radiating onto him from where he touched. Kakashi jumped at another crack of thunder.

Naruto pulled Kakashi into a hug, rubbing his shoulder gently. Kakashi tensed, but slowly eased into Naruto's hold.

"It's okay to be scared... I'm here, Sensei."

Kakashi sniffled and leaned into Naruto's chest, his voice stuck in his throat, impossible to speak. Naruto rubbed small circles in his back.

Naruto laid Kakashi down, feeling him go limp in his arms. Kakashi held onto his shirt, leaving Naruto no choice but to lie down with him. Kakashi slowly stopped crying.

"Sleep well... Kakashi..."

#naruto uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #naruto x kakashi #narukaka #naruto #naruto shippuden #shitty writing #shitty shitty shitty writing #fear of storms

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.

His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.

Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.

He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.

Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.

“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.

The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.

Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.

Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.

“Alright, Alfred.”

Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.

Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.

Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.

He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.

Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.

“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”

Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.

“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.

“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.

They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.

It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.

Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”

——

A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.

As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.

——

Dick had left long before Bruce did.

And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.

“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”

But there was no-one.

#dpxdc #but it doesn’t have to be #me (24 days ago): lol let’s write angst for fun #me (now and not prepared for the angst that i personally wrote): yo wtf #batman #Bruce Wayne #bruce Wayne’s shitty coping skills #except for on Jason’s birthday #Jason Todd (‘s grave) #Jason Todd #Alfred #alfred pennyworth #dick Grayson

[glorious-destruction]

I post for the girls who have too much love inside them and have to act like they don’t care

#my blog is kinda shitty but it’s yours <3 #flop posts galore but they real af #for the girls #dark academia #dps #literature #poetry #quotes #dead poets society #books #write #girlhood #girlblogging

[willowser]

i will never stop writing bakugou as a shy, blushy loserboy, but. the idea of you being more inexperienced than him ??

you're carefully bandaging him up at the agency clinic, after he'd taken a nasty hit that left his shoulder scuffed up, and he's been in here with you more times than he can count, much too late at night, and maybe that's how you get into this conversation in the first place; weird stuff always gets said at this hour.

"no, i'm telling you," despite the vulnerability of what you're saying — despite the awful look that must be on his face — you're laughing. "never dated anyone, never been taken on a date, nothing."

and — he really must look truly terrible, with his mouth open and his lip curled over his teeth and his brows furrowed, because he can't hardly believe a fucking word you're saying. it pisses him off and he doesn't know why, just seems. a waste, for no one to have appreciated someone like you.

someone that he maybe thinks about too much, that is too nice and not funny to anyone but themselves but still laughs and hardworking and. so pretty that it annoys him.

his question comes out rough, harsh. "why the hell not?"

"i don't know," you shrug, eyes cutting to his before focusing back on patching him up. "i'm — probably too shy and weird, or something. and online dating is hard, y'know! some guys are really into the purity thing, like too into it, and some guys find out and won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, so," and then you shrug. like that's all there is to it.

and katsuki is just astounded to know this. not that he's ever done all that much himself, but all his bases have been covered, by now in his life, and he just really can't imagine anyone knowing you and not wanting to—

he realizes the irony of thinking this, like a punch to the gut. after knowing you for almost two years now and never so much as complimenting your stupid hair and the stupid way you wear it.

"well," katsuki grumbles, averting his eyes to the walls of the clinic, trying to seem more interested in your creepy, anatomy posters. "maybe he's comin'...or whatever."

"who's coming?"

"your guy, i don't know!" it's unfortunate that his shirt is off for this, because there's no way you aren't getting a perfect view of the flush that spreading down to his chest. "your dude, maybe he's...figuring it out."

"hmm, maybe. that's what my gran says, but who knows?" you shrug, oblivious — and suddenly your singleness makes a smidge more sense. "i've resigned myself to a touchless, loveless life for—"

"he's comin'!" katsuki barks and you startle at the outburst, eyes casting over his warm cheeks and then down his chest and back. finally, it fucking clicks for you, like he hasn't been finding excuse after excuse to see you every damn night for ages. "he's...checkin' his work schedule and then he's...gonna figure it out, alright?"

you brighten considerably, lip going between your teeth. "oh, yeah, yeah," and your smile is unstoppable, not hidden in the slightest as you turn to the steri-tray at your side, shyness bleeding into his own. "alright."

#WAAAAHHHH #he considers himself so inexperienced #to the point he's such a flustered fucking dork about dating anyone #and so it makes him remarkably nervous around you to begin with #and then he goes absolutely bonkers learning that you've done even less than HIM AKFHDJSKAKAL #he's PISSED like WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN NO ONE HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE #NEVER BOUGHT YOU SHITTY FLOWERS BEFORE #it is probably the thing that riles him up enough to make his move because he's just. so pissed about it alfbsisjai #lmaoooooo #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

[apotheotic-cravings]

I just started Harrow the ninth and the shift in tone… was both jarring and kind of hilarious.

#also Gideon Nav being a canonical virgin with acne has no business being so sexy #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrowhark the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #I guess my MO is now just posting some shitty doodle every 4 months of a different fandom huh #this month it’s locked tomb… in October? who knows…! #surprisingly I don’t have many rambles to put in the tags this time… hmmmm. #god but knowing that tamsyn muir was a homestuck….. lord. I can see it in every inch of her writing #and I love it. #my art #fanart #also the body is t posing to assert dominance btw. and it’s working #comic #though this barely counts as a comic. oh it had two panels huh??? yeah right

[daisychainsandbowties]

i love going back to find my favourite fics from when i was twelve only to realise that they’re poorly written and messy and full of mistakes and bad dialogue and melodrama. and also at the same time holding in my mind how absolutely enraptured i was by those fics when i read them, when i was twelve and desperately alone.

how often in the intervening years i’ve replayed those stories in my mind and how bright they feel to me when i think of them, even now. and here, at the root of it, is this flawed and human piece of art made by someone who probably doesn’t realise that i’ve clung to the echoes of their voice for more than half my life. taken solace inside the giants i’ve made of their little words.

it’s just… no matter the quality of your writing there’s always going to be someone (like me) to whom your fic becomes a lifeline. someone who’ll spin your words to gold in their mind because underneath the shaky narration and the bits of dialogue that don’t work, underneath the fact that the fic i’m talking about stopped at chapter 14 and i checked my email every day for a year hoping to see it updated again, there’s still the fact that what you just made is art.

this messy little fic, which has an oc as the main character and broke so many of the cardinal rules of making fic… it stuck with me, became a part of me. so, no matter what kind of art you make - good or bad or mediocre or profound, ordinary and inexpert and poorly-plotted - there’ll be someone who reads it and carries it with them forever. even the art you make when you’re twelve and not good at anything yet is still art and it still had the capacity to do all the things that art does.

#having feelings about that one fic again #fr though write shitty write unoriginal write write write write #you never know when you’re saving someone’s life

[pippuns]

pre-transmigration cumplanes because they are the most divorced guys who never met

#svsss #scum villains self saving system #cumplane #cucumberplane #shen yuan #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #pippart #these guys are so funny. i love sy's one sided parasocial hate relationship with sqh #i think sqh should start writing after transmigration again #and that sy should independently find his shitty writing and scathingly critique it anonymously #i need them to complain to each other about each other without realizing it's the other they're talking about #i think that's what sqq should be doing during the three years binghe got eebie deebied #when sqq dies and sqh stops getting correspondence from his new number 1 hater he's like #“oh boy im so happy i finally wrote something that guy likes. or maybe mbj killed him now that im complaining to him and not sqq about him” #and then sqq revives five years later and the second he has a chance he immediately starts catching up on five years of hate writing