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something terrible is happening within my psyche rn as i realize this song fits with this goddamn chap

they DO have REPUTATIONS ooooohhhhh my goddddddd my shaylaasssssss 😭😭😭😭😭

so bye i'm gonna go finish crying to this now

y'all alr know the dron tag hates to see me coming [steeples hands for a transaction] but here i am again with a new chapter !!

here's ch3 in screenshots bc i can't promise it's all comedy this time:

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y'all alr know the dron tag hates to see me coming [steeples hands for a transaction] but here i am again with a new chapter !!

here's ch3 in screenshots bc i can't promise it's all comedy this time:

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comedic snippets from the freshly posted ch2 of inspiral!!

here's the summarizing line:

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snape my absolute king shines bright this chap:

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finally posted it you guys!!!

powering thru a filler chapter rn, so here are some small funny bits released from fic-jail bc they made me laugh as i wrote

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i outdo myself, honestly:

powering thru a filler chapter rn, so here are some small funny bits released from fic-jail bc they made me laugh as i wrote

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powering thru a filler chapter rn (for inspiral), so here are some small funny bits released from fic-jail bc they made me laugh as i wrote

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so real, sometimes i think abt the bizarre workings of the magical system in the hp universe and barely resist the urge to start writing abt chemistry to justify all the nonsensical rules . .

like holy shit just make them kiss and share traumas with e/o they don't need to have an academic debate rn bc someone cast an aguamenti

i need to read more academic articles to make my yaoi more insane

[manifesting as hard as i possibly can] please, please god, please, please, please let more people get into my extremely niche and somewhat dated hyperfixation ship 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

wanted to play the Last Line Game i've seen floating around, so had to take it into my own hands and tag myself lmao, bc i have no friends here (yet!)

currently writing chapter 4 of my 6th year Dron fic, Inspiral!!

(ask me literally anything abt it pls pls i will rant abt them forever)

Morning after Long Work Days

CONTENT: a little suggestive ... which it is not as this will get a Part 2. Fluff, sleepy weepy. Mainly FLUFF and Comfort...

The first rays of sun slipped through the closed curtains illuminating the room in a warm yellow orange glow. I have been up since a long time but not able to move or shift and my arms and legs have numbed out by now. Why you may ask…

Well, the problem is, there is this 6ft boyfriend of mine practically sleeping on top of me and I don’t have a heart to wake him up or move him and just … I have giving up at this point. This has been going on since 4:30 am, but one thing I can say, he looked peaceful enough for me to just …… (deep breathe) appreciate him.

The sunlight hit his face just at the right angle to illuminate his features, Xavier lays on my chest, like an ethereal god. The last few days were hard for both of us with the amount of wanderer appearance and night duties we both pulled through, barely resting and just going on and on. And looking at both of us walking around like zombies at the association, Jenna at last called us to her office and told us to get a leave. Both me and Xavier didn’t remember how we returned home or if we ate anything or even bathe. I just remember somehow, I got those leather straps and work clothes off and just wear one of Xavier’s hoodies and shorts and falling on bed, and then as I drifted off, I did feel a oh so light kiss on my forehead and being enveloped in a warm embraced and soon I was out like a light.

And now, here I am being crushed by my 6ft boyfriend Xav, who looks much better and I am happy that he got is much deserved rest. This sweetheart of mine couldn’t even take a proper nap in past 1 week. Looking at his face, his mouth just slightly open, his chest going up and down sync with my heartbeat, his arms hanging loosey around me, legs dangling off and his face on my neck. It felt good to be trust like this by a person. A person, even if everyone says “Xavier is the best hunter out there, Xavier this, Xavier that…” treating him as something dangerous, or a lethal weapon, but in the end of the day, he is too a person who needs to rest which he doesn’t get much due to his active hearing or alertness. Therefore, seeing this idiot of my bf, forgetting the world and sleeping soundly like a baby on top of me, yes, he a person to me first before he is the best hunter in Linkon.

Thoughts like these were running wild in my head as I slowly caressed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh and deep in my thoughts, I didn’t feel him shift closer to me until I felt a soft and feather like kiss on my neck followed by him nuzzling his nose and sniffing me.

“Stop that brain of yours from overthinking, its going to break soon enough.” He said softly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked him letting my fingers graze his back, along his spine which sent a shiver down his body as he shifted again and at last faced me.

“Why you up now?” he said nuzzling into my chest like a literal cat and a laughter bubbled out of me.

“OH, my handsome sweet pie, love of my life, cutie of a boyfriend.” I said pampering him with kisses on his hair and forehead... getting cute aggression just by looking at him and how soft and cuddly he looked.

“Ahhhhh ahhh…. Nooooooo…. Not yet” he said with a shriek as I attack him and embrace the shit out of him, murmuring words of nothing and everything, and he tried to protest that he didn’t like being pampering, but THIS IDIOT LIKED IT. I knew it. He acted as he repelled it but leaned more closer to me as I continued on with my playful assault on him. And he did let me, until I found my arms being pinned on my side.

“Seriously Xav…” I looked at him. Those night blue eyes looking right at me. There was a gleam to it, a liveliness to it which was gone this week. I let out a deep sigh, kissing his crown saying “Welcome back my prince charming” with a small smile.

He stilled for a moment, before relaxing again, “Why welcome me back? I was here…”

“Yeah, you were, physically, but mentally you were exhausted as f… and ya” I said caressing his head and scratching his scalp lightly ‘but that liveliness and happiness was not there… which are back again as you … I hope you did get some good sleep?”

“SOME GOOD SLEEP? No... I had the best sleep of my life today honestly. “He said with a laugh and at last rolled off me. I grunted slightly shifting to my side and saw him looking at me.

“What?”

“It looks painful” he said with a amused face.

I playfully hit his head ‘Its all your fault but ya ... I don’t mind it” I smiled at him.

He embraced me again kissing my nose and then my lips before I stopped him. “Not now… you smell and I don’t remember if we brushed out teeth or what not … Sorry”

“You denied me KISSES? And even EARLY IN THE MORNING? I have been betrayed.” He said with a exaggerated sigh “Betrayed by my own star… what a terrifying thing to wake up to. This is not my reality. Come here … lets sleep again and wake up in our reality where you let me kiss youuuuu” he said trying to hug me again but I slipped past his arms and sat up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T GET UPPPP…... Plweaseeeeeee”

I let out a laugh, “Idiot… get up now. We didn’t bathe yesterday and I feel dirty all over.”

He looks at me with his classic smirk… “Are you perhaps suggesting something to me sweetheart?”

“MAYBE… but my idiot of a boyfriend won’t get up so…” I trailed off and got up from the bed to go to the washroom.

Soon after, I heard a knock on the washroom door and then saw Xavier’s face poke out, “Is the offer still valid yet?’

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Sooooo.. even if i am swamped with college works due to exams and having writers block since forever, I made a line art of xavier yesterday night and

EARLY IN THE DAMMASS MORNING MY INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A SNOWSTROM

Hopefully you guys will this 😅, wanted to write a fanfic for so long and I at last did...

Might post this on AO3 🫣😵‍💫

But whatever

ENJOYYYY

I didn't think much of other people before the incident.

Humans are cruel; I am aware of that. Everybody is. Humans are cold, selfish, and prideful. Kids are self-centered and the ego they gain as they grow does them no favors.

Being a tree gives you a lot of time to think. A lot of time to miss the little things you had. I miss the taste of the apples I ate in the morning, miss the feeling of a soft blanket under my hands, miss the way my love's arms would wrap around me while we slept.

I don't know how I'm seeing what is happening around me. Feeling as a tree is very strange. I feel a squirrel running on my branches and the bugs crawling beneath my bark and the ivy winding its leaves around mine. There's so many sensations but also not. I normally feel like I'm asleep, but sometimes I'll wake up and just feel for a long time.

I don't really know where I am or how long it has been. There are sidewalks and people and a lot of dogs, so I think it is some kind of park. The days bleed together - the sky is always cloudy and there's enough street lights around that I can't always tell if it is night time unless I focus. It's peaceful this way, really. I don't know if I miss being human.

I don't know a lot of things these days. My thoughts aren't very clear and it takes a while for anything coherent to really form. I should probably be more worried about this, but that's not something a tree can manage, I guess.

I've learned a lot about people this way. I can feel the emotions behind their words and actions in a way I never had before. Friends have picnics in my shade, kids climb my branches, joggers stop to rest against my trunk. There's so much passion in everything they do. It's incredible, really.

A lady came by one day. She seemed to know that I could hear her? It was pretty lucky that I was awake, honestly, so if I wasn't she would've been talking to nothing. People stared at her weird anyways. I guess talking to random trees isn't normal, huh?

She asked me how I was doing and if I enjoyed my punishment. I didn't really understand; what was I being punished for? what was the punishment? It took a while for me to remember that I wasn't always a tree. I knew I had memories of a before, of a time where I lived as one of the humans, but memories don't work right as a tree. She was surprised. I don't know why. What was she expecting?

She asked if I had learned my lesson. Told me that they had stopped looking for me already... that they didn't care.

I'm the one that didn't care anymore. I am happy this way. No stress, no worries, nothing. Just passive observation and sleep. It was the most peaceful time of my life, I think.

I grew tired and started to lose my grip on hearing and sight, slowing slipping into sleep. the last thing I saw was the woman standing between my roots with a faraway look in her eyes. After that, I never saw her again.

You angered a witch, and in retaliation, she transformed you into an unmovable tree in a public park. Months later, she returns with the sinister hope of reveling in your suffering, only to find that you are not only surviving but thriving and happier than ever before.

This gives me the exact same vibes as that moment in BBC's Sherlock where John asks Sherlock, "did you really not know that the earth goes around the sun?"

“Yeah, the human body is like… 70% water. Did… Did you not know that…?”

The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. “Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I didn’t, they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask

Do y'all ever read through your drafted scenes and think "lol these characters are cute and funny" and then you remember that YOU wrote it.

writing makes me so happy. i am so bad at it and such an unexperienced amateur but it makes me so happy.

Im thinking of writing a story with my OCs, should i post it on here?

planning on some sort of soft fantasy setting

I read denial as Daniel...

Cobra kai has taken way too much space in my brain

the five stages of grief: writer's edition

denial: "this draft is amazing. no need for edits. it’s practically perfect as is." you’re so confident that you close the document for the day, smiling like you’ve just discovered the next great american novel (or swedish, or british, whatever). plot hole? who is she?

anger: "why did i ever think this was good? this is garbage. i am garbage. my characters are flat, my dialogue is cringe, and my prose sounds like a robot swallowed a thesaurus and threw up on the page." rage-quit the doc and go aggressively scroll pinterest for "writing inspiration" that you will never use.

bargaining: "if i fix this one scene, the whole thing will click into place. i just need to write one more subplot, maybe five more chapters, a quick rewrite of the entire ending, and then it'll be fine. totally manageable." queue up 17 youtube videos on "how to fix your plot" that you play in the background while staring at your ceiling.

depression: "i will never finish this book. it’s doomed. i’m doomed. why do i even write? who let me have ideas?!" lay dramatically on your bed, considering taking up knitting or rock collecting instead. cry a little over how your characters deserve a better writer.

acceptance: "this is the best i can do right now, and that’s okay. i’ll take a break, come back with fresh eyes, and remember why i love this stupid, broken story." suddenly, your MC whispers something brilliant, and you're like wait… maybe i'm a genius after all.

and the cycle begins again. writing is a joy.

I have everything figured out (it is that one specific scene that I want to write nothing else)

i have such a clear vision for this story (except for the entire middle part)

This is actually such a big problem🫠🫠

me writing dialogue: how do humans talk? how do normal people talk? what are words?

@infinityy, You know what to do.

You have the power to place really small, permanent curses on people. Things like never winning bingo or having them suddenly dislike a food they use to love. One day, someone nearly kills you cutting you off in traffic, and you curse them. Little do you know, you just ruined their life.

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

Before you were anything, you were a mother.

When the universe began it was you, and the earth was the first of your children. The seas, the skies, everything that walked the earth was your precious offspring. Humanity, however, were the children you were closest with, made in your own image.

The earth could not remain young forever, and as it grew it began to become too much for you to handle on your own. And so, like every god must, you collected followers. Humans who would take responsibility to do your work. In exchange you promised to reward them, giving them whatever they desired.

Children, however, are imperfect, and humanity is no exception. When promised whatever they want selfishness begins to take over, and time and time again that selfishness has stung. For every three steps forward your followers took to helping you maintain the earth, they took one step back with their selfish wishes. Eventually it felt like a chore, to reward them. It no longer felt like a gift to your children but a betrayal of them. Still, a promise is a promise.

When your next follower came forth to receive their gift, you were already prepared for the worst. They had suffered greatly, and those who suffer greatly have the most pain to inflict back on the world. It comes as a surprise, however, when they instead ask for the warmth of a parent’s embrace.

When you wrap your arms around your follower, this broken child whose only desire is to be loved, you begin to remember. You begin to remember that while humans can be selfish and broken they are still your children who wish for guidance and love. You remember that your followers are still young in the eyes of the universe, and do not know how to not be creatures focused on themselves. You remember and you forgive, and you remind yourself and the earth that you are the mother of everything.

Before you were anything, you were a mother, and a mother you shall stay until the end of time.

You are a patron deity that physically appears before your followers in order to reward them for loyal service. Usually, they like to fulfill their darkest desires, so you’re completely caught off guard when one of them asks to feel "the embrace of a parent."

Quit giving gay guys the plot of being dumb and not realizing their feelings aren’t platonic while giving the lesbians the tragic romances. Every lesbian I know is dumb as bricks and doesn’t know you’re flirting unless you ask them out on a date and specify it’s a date. Meanwhile gay guys will speed run the five stages of grief about their crushes because they’ve decided that even if their feelings were returned the romance would ruin them both.

You’re depicting the types of stupidity in gay people wrong and I’m tired of trying to find accurate gay and lesbian fiction that reflects the struggles of reality.

This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.

Just write something

When you first sit down to write, the hardest task you will face is actually starting.

To get yourself over this first hurdle, don't overthink it. Just write something. Literally anything.

Words on the page is sometimes all you need to get started.

GO CHECK OUT MY WONDERFUL AMAZING AWESONR GIRLFRIEND'S WRITING OR ELSE

It's so well written istg, I think basically anyone benefits from reading it in some way

Hello! So I’m pretty nervous about posting this, but my partner has encouraged me so here it is. This is a project I wrote for my GSWS class, it’s a story based on real events from my childhood. It deals with my experience and outlook as a young girl navigating the constraints and expectations set onto women, and how to explore your gender expression as an individual person. I hope you enjoy it!

The Fruit of Life - by Heaven

I’ve never been a huge fan of Christmas. I enjoy the festive decorations and family get-togethers with delicious food. Yet, while most other kids found the presents to be the best part of the holiday, I, however, had very…mixed feelings. It’s Christmas morning as I watch Mom, clad in a red Christmas sweater, climb over me and my siblings to start handing out our stockings. My older sister goes first and cheers in delight after taking out a three pack of red lipstick, makeup wipes, a bunch of other small junk and some kind of eyeshadow kit? I’ve never heard of the brand before but apparently it’s ’super popular and expensive’ by the way my sister is gushing over it. I don’t really get the hype but I’m glad she’s happy. Next up is my older brother who practically tears through his stocking with hot wheels, batman figurines, and- woah is that a pikachu figure? I want one! He gets a few other small things but my eyes stay glued to the adorable pikachu toy as I bounce in excitement.

My other sister, only younger by one year, whines to open hers next so I wait a bit longer. She hurries to pull out a bunch of mario dolls, squishing a princess peach doll to her chest with a squeal. Next she takes out an amy rose figurine, which hopefully means I’ll get a sonic one, then dumps out the rest which are just a collection of littlest pet shop toys. Finally it’s my turn and although I’m hesitant, I let myself feel a wave of hope that I’ll like all my presents this year. I carefully take out my first present and…it’s a container of- peanuts? That’s…odd, and I don’t really like peanuts but at least they’re salted. Setting them aside I quickly pull out my next gift only to falter when it turns out to be chapstick. Normally I’d enjoy chapstick but this one is a bright pink and sparkly that makes it look tacky. I try to shrug off the feeling of creeping disappointment but the next gift I get is a monster high makeup kit. I never even wear makeup, and I stopped liking monster high a while ago. My body feels sort of numb when I see the rest is nothing that I like either.

Mom asks how I like the gifts and I do my best to give her a smile, albeit strained. She takes it and moves on to hand out gifts. Right, our bigger presents! I feel myself letting back in a sliver of hope that maybe one of these will be something I like. Only, barely any of them turn out to be. I really, really do try to be grateful but most of it is stuff I’ve either outgrown or have never mentioned liking at all. Some of it is make up and frilly clothes that would better suit my older sister who actually likes this kind of stuff. The one thing I find myself really liking is a little sonic plushie. His hands are a little wonky and the fabric is clearly cheap. He’s absolutely perfect. My mom turns to me with a short laugh as she raises an eyebrow, “You’re happy over that little thing? I thought you’d adore the makeup set, I mean you love monster high.” I try to gently tell her that I don’t like monster high anymore but I’ve really liked sonic for a long time; that Pokémon or that new game five nights at Freddy’s also would’ve been cool.

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes at me, saying that I should be more grateful for what I have. She says that I’m always so hard to please and that my likes are always changing. Shame creeps up on me and I suddenly feel like a bad person. I stay quiet and don’t remind her that I’ve tried telling her about my interests many times. I sit there silently as my siblings play happily with their gifts, holding tightly onto my little sonic doll. I’m very grateful for him, I am, but I also can’t help feeling hurt. Why was it so easy for her to remember my siblings interests but not mine?

- - - - - - - - - -

Christmas with my Dad barely goes any better. My younger sister, my full blood sibling, gets to open her presents first. Again. Though, I’m not as worried about opening presents from my Dad than with my Mom. He tries to listen when I rant about my interests and get me gifts from that. I snap back to attention as my sister opens one of her gifts to find Pokémon X. Dread pools in my gut as I stare at the game. My sister turns to Dad in confusion saying that she already has the game. Dad’s eyebrows furrow, “You do? I could’ve sworn you had asked for it.” I pause for a moment before softly speaking up. “I asked for that game this year…”, I shuffle in place as I try not to sound accusatory despite my frustration. “Aw shit, I’m sorry sweetie. You can take the game then so you’ll both have one.” With a plastered smile I take the game and gently run my thumb over its cover, my hands twitching to crush it in my fists. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Well I did ask for the game last year…and for my birthday…and twice this year for Christmas. I let out a breath and try to shove down the bubbling frustration.

We head over to Grandma’s house and it’s much worse. I know I’m supposed to be grateful, I know I should smile and say thank you, but this? I open my gift to find a tinkerbell doll while my sister happily opens a mario card game. I glare down at the stupid plastic thing, its cheery lifeless face staring back at me. My Grandma, sitting in her large maroon chair, looks heavily displeased at my ‘ungratefulness’. My Dad angrily taps me on the shoulder with a word to ‘be grateful and say thank you’. My teeth grit as I feel myself boil with heat. Why should I be grateful? I never asked for this! I never spoke any interest in tinkerbell or dolls at all, and yet I get this while my sister gets something she likes?! It’s not fair and I hushedly say as much to my Dad, avoiding his eyes as I stare at his orange shirt. He only huffs and says that since my sister has a mental disability that means she’s going to have more odd interests…I don’t see how that makes any sense. We both like sonic and Pokémon, and other ‘boyish’ things. They aren’t odd. Why does she get to enjoy them when I’m expected to grow out of it? She’s a person with strengths, and flaws- we’re both just people. I want to scream and cry and stomp that it isn’t fair. Instead, I swallow back my building tears and mumble a thank you to my Grandma.

- - - - - - - - - -

I grimace as I chew on the apple slices my mom packed me for school. I hate the rough way they crunch, and they’re always too tart! The only way I can stand them is with peanut butter or cinnamon sugar, maybe plain if they’re pealed. However, Mom always forgets to do any of those. At another table I overhear a group of girls happily chatting about their gifts from Christmas with talk of their new clothes and Ardene gift cards and makeup. The chapstick sounds cool, but I quickly get bored and tune into the boys who are excitedly talking about their gifts too. The dinky cars and nerf guns fly by me but the sudden topic of Pokémon cards peak my interest. Lucky…all my cards are hand-me-downs from my brother. I pick at the apples a bit more before shoving them back into my lunch box.

I try to join the boys for recess but all they wanna do is play some dinosaur game. I wouldn’t have minded wolves, or maybe aliens, but I’ve never been huge on dinosaurs. Plus, though I didn’t want to admit it, the boys are always a bit too rowdy and rough. The girls turn out to be even more boring as they sit in a circle talking about their Christmas break with chat of sleepovers and other friend group drama. I sit on the outside of the circle, close enough to chime in here and there. My voice silences when I realize none of them are really paying attention to anything I say. Looking down to the ground I tug at the blades of grass as I absentmindedly listen in on the rest of their conversation. I only notice the bell ringing when the other girls abruptly stand to leave, hurriedly stumbling to catch up with them.

- - - - - - - - -

Growing up, I’ve always been compared to my mom. In looks, in personality, as her ‘mini me’. At first, I found joy and pride in this. She was my mother and I loved her greatly, of course I wanted to be like her. Then as the years drew on, I became annoyed at it, then deeply frustrated. What was once a nice compliment now has other meaning to me. It now held other implications. I watch as Mom stands at the mirror in the bathroom, her lips pursed as she gently tugs at her face. “Jesus,” she hisses, “my face has gotten so wrinkly. I look like I’m 70 at only 40 years old!”. She turns to me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hun, come here. Do you think I look old?” I know there’s no right answer, yet I try anyway. “I don’t think so. And wrinkles aren’t that bad.” With an annoyed sigh her eyes flick back to the mirror. She harshly grips at her stomach and jiggles it. “No, they aren’t. And look at this! I really need to start going for more walks. You should come with me, we can be walking buddies.” Her smile seems genuine and I don’t think she meant it as an insult, but the words still hurt. I look at her face. I look at her body. She has wrinkles and stretch marks, fat under her arms and on her stomach. As I look to her, my mother, I think of how beautiful she is and I wish I could give her my eyes to see that.

- - - - - - - - -

My older sister and I, despite our different interests, are very close. She’s always been a kind person and had never judged me for liking ‘boyish’ stuff, just said that I was a ‘tomboy’. I never really understood that term - I mean I wasn’t a boy so why call it that? And who’s Tom? Anyway, sometimes for special occasions I’d let her do my makeup. She was the only one I really trusted to do that without clamming up in embarrassment. My sister feels so warm to be around - a comforting, strong embrace that made me feel secure. Even better, she could make an amazing apple crumble! Paired with whip cream or vanilla ice cream, I could eat a whole tray of it.

I loved my sister so much that it felt like a gaping wound whenever she cried. I was heading to my room when I heard shouting in my sister's room. I carefully peeked behind the crack in the door to see my sister sobbing as Mom screamed at her. Apparently Mom heavily disapproved of the dress my sister wanted to wear to her high school prom. I listened as Mom called her a tramp, trashy, a whore. I didn’t fully understand what those meant at the time, but I knew they were bad things to be called. I stepped to the side as my mom stormed out. Silently I stepped into the room and sat in the bed with my sister. Her dress was a bright green with sparkles, the top being low cut and strapless while the bottom was mid thigh. I think Mom thought it was too showy, but I was reminded of tinkerbell. My strong big sister looked over to me with her sorrowful eyes, the rims red and mascara splotching with her tears. I looked at her as she was, human, and in that moment, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

- - - - - - - - - -

At first, I was actually kinda excited for my 8th grade graduation. An event celebrating changing from a kid in middle school to a teenager in high school. Personally I just saw it as a fun party, but to my mom it was a peak milestone in my life. Which is why I was currently arguing with her over clothes of all things since she wanted me to wear a dress while I adamantly refused. I didn’t mind dresses or skirts when I was little, but after years of being forced to wear frilly dresses I was sick of them. I wanted to wear something more comfortable, something that felt more like me. Yet, Mom didn’t let up as she said for the millionth time that since it’s a ‘special day’ I must wear a dress or I’ll look back and regret it. But wouldn’t wearing something I hate and being miserable make me regret it much more? Without much of a say, I ended up picking a red dress to appease her.

The graduation is going…fine, I guess. I wore my sparkly red dress and my older sister did my full face of makeup. The group photos went fine I suppose. My arms looked super fat though, and I looked so over-the-top compared to the other girls. Our class dance turned out fine; I remembered all the moves and everyone cheered when we finished. I hate these stupid sandals, the tiny heel keeps clomping on the floor and I almost slipped during the performance. Everything is fine. My body feels numb as I, once again, check my makeup in the mirror. For the fourth time that night I reapply my bright red lipstick. It smudges, but I hurriedly wipe that flaw away. I stare deeply at the reflection in the mirror- not mine, no, she’s not me. I don’t look like that. My throat bobs as I gaze at a plastic doll. I slowly turn away from the mirror and head back to the graduation dinner.

- - - - - - - - - -

Starting in high school, me and my younger sister are mostly living with Dad. It’s been a harsh shift but after a while I’ve felt more…myself? There’s no overarching pressure to never mess up, no judgement for anything I express interest in, no demanding chores and tense fights. Despite the peace, I still feel myself on guard like if I make one bad mistake I’ll be labeled a terrible kid. But, my dad listens to me when I tell him I don’t really like apples and instead he buys me oranges. They’re annoying to peel and the juice sticks to my hand, but they’re also sweeter. The taste can be a little strong at times but I feel touched that he really tried to get something I’d like. He tries to get invested in stuff that I like by trying out shows I’m into - but he always ends up on his phone…or asleep. Despite that, I’m grateful he tries. He listens and puts in effort. I can appreciate that.

Visiting with my mom wasn’t as pleasant. Often we’d argue over small things and every step around her felt like walking on eggshells. Whenever I expressed an opinion she didn’t agree with, it was either met with mockery or anger. Consistently I'd be teased to get a boyfriend, or that not wanting children in the future was a silly idea that I'd grow out of. My body was critiqued, my personality, my hobbies. I never felt safe to share parts of myself with her. Though from her fake smiles, the way she devalues herself, and her hesitancy to form hobbies - I think she hides her true self away too.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was at an lgbtq+ support group that I met them. I made friends with a person in art class who invited me to an lgbtq+ group they went to. I wasn’t very close with that person, but since I’m part of the community I figured I could go meet and become friends with some people. There, I met a person who introduced me to the meaning of ‘non-binary’. I had heard the word before, but I never had a full concept of it until meeting them. They had poofy purple hair, a tall stature, and a bright smile. At a glance I, frankly, couldn’t tell what gender they were. So, I nervously asked for their pronouns to which they proudly said ‘they/them’. I was in awe - not because the idea of being gender neutral was that peculiar, but because of how proud and confident they were in their identity. I saw this creative, smart, funny, kind, beautiful person and just knew I had to get to know them more.

We began to chat more and I found out they were going to my high school. We began eating lunch together and shared so much of ourselves with stories and jokes and understanding. In only a couple of months, we had become closer than I’ve ever felt with anyone in my life. They listened, put in effort, and understood me for who I was, even if I didn’t fully know who I was. We were together at lunch when they pulled out a pomegranate. I looked at it oddly since I had never seen a pomegranate up close before. My family had never bought them. They said it was one of their favourite fruits and offered me some. Hesitantly, I took a bite and although there was sweetness, it was a bit sour and had a bitterness to it. I didn’t like how the seeds got stuck in my teeth. They only laughed at my reaction and said that pomegranate isn’t for everyone. They continued to eat as I quietly gazed at their soft face, my affection for them warming at my inner being. The purple of the pomegranate perfectly matched their hair - both so eccentric, yet lovely.

- - - - - - - - - - -

My Dad comes home one day with a basket of pears. Turns out the store was out of oranges so he figured I could try out pears for my lunch instead. I vaguely remember liking pears as a kid so I decided to give them a try, just to see if they tasted any good. Besides, he got them specially for me - I didn’t want to waste that thoughtful gesture. I snag one and Head upstairs to my room, turning on the anime I’ve been binging for the past week. With my mom I’d always been too embarrassed to watch anime due to how she’d mock it, but I feel much more at ease living with my Dad. The show began to play and I got lost in the love for it. The art was so pretty, and I preferred this type of story telling compared to the live action shows I had tried in the past. Not that there was anything wrong with them, everybody has their own tastes. Abruptly, I remembered the pear I was going to try. Reaching over to my bedside table, I grab the pear and turn it over in my hand. The light green colour is nice. I take a bite, and I’m shocked by how delicious it is. It’s very sweet, juicy, and the perfect amount of soft to chew. I smile and quickly take another bite, and another. Doing something I love with a good snack, in the comfort of my room, I feel weightless. At this moment, I feel content.

- - - - - - - - -

My highschool prom has truly been amazing. My mom had no say in what I wore or how I looked - I was no longer a child, I was a person with my own decisions. In a pleasant surprise, she respected this and didn’t try to have control. That meant a lot to me. The theme of the prom was starry night, so I wore a cute black top with black tights and a gorgeous skirt that had a starry night sky on it and black lace on the edge. I paired my outfit with black, fingerless lace gloves, a black lace choker, and a silver headband with tiny stars. My makeup for the night, done by my older sister, was a natural look with soft black eyeshadow. I turn to my partner for the prom, their purple hair and bright smile welcoming my gaze. After a few years of knowing each other, we started dating and I had gained such a wonderful, loving person by my side. They wore a matching outfit to mine; a black suit and pants with a starry night sky on their tie. We were connected as one, yet I felt more like an individual than I ever had before. I kissed their cheek before moving towards the bathroom.

After washing my hands my eyes trail upwards. As I had done once before, I stare into the reflection of the mirror. There is no wave of revulsion. There is no dread in my stomach, nor do I feel like I’m looking at an imposter. The body in the mirror is made of flesh. She is flawed, a person, so beautiful. And she is me. This is who I am. I smile at her, at myself, then turn and leave. My partner glances up at my arrival and smiles at me with so much affection. I snuggle into the crook of their shoulder and release a content sigh as they rest an arm over me. After a few hours we both decide to leave - it has gotten far too loud for both of us, not to mention boring. We went to a café where we talked each other's ears off and played board games, laughing with warm smiles. Once the night was finally late, we went to their home for a sleepover. They went to grab us a late snack, and I was surprised to see they had gotten pears just for me - because they knew I liked them. I took the fruit with a soft word of thanks, though my eyes expressed just how grateful I felt to them, for them.

I bit into the pear and felt the sweetness. It was the perfect fruit for me.

being a writer who got into writing poetry as an outlet is weird because sometimes i feel things so much i have to write a poem about it, and then sometimes i feel things so much that every time i try to write about it the words die

anyways i’ve got to stop trying to have coherent thoughts after 9pm. or maybe ever

Saving this for later 👍

Super detailed character profile chart

Character Name:

First Name:

Last Name:

Nickname (if any):

Basic Information:

Age:

Gender:

Date of Birth:

Place of Birth:

Nationality:

Physical Appearance:

Height:

Weight:

Build:

Hair Color:

Eye Color:

Scars or distinguishing marks:

Personality Traits:

Positive Traits:

Negative Traits:

Background and History:

Family Background:

Parents:

Siblings (if any):

Childhood:

Education:

School/College/University:

Major/Area of Study:

Favorite Subjects:

Least Favorite Subjects:

Career/Profession:

Current Occupation:

Previous Jobs (if any):

Career Goals:

Hobbies and Interests:

Hobbies:

Interests:

Relationships:

Marital Status:

Romantic Relationships (if any):

Friendships:

Closest Friends:

Relationship dynamics:

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Goals and Ambitions:

Short-term Goals:

Long-term Goals:

Fears and Insecurities:

Common Fears:

Insecurities:

Quirks and Habits:

Quirks:

Habits:

Beliefs and Values:

Religious or Spiritual Beliefs:

Moral Code:

Political Views:

Favorites:

Favorite Foods:

Favorite Books:

Favorite Movies/TV Shows:

Favorite Music:

Favorite Color:

Dislikes:

Disliked Foods:

Disliked Activities:

Pet Peeves:

Miscellaneous:

Talents or Skills:

Secrets (if any):

Motivations:

What drives the character forward?

What are their ultimate aspirations?

Character Arc:

How does the character change or evolve throughout the story?

Feel free to adapt and expand upon this template!

Writing Notes & References

Alchemy ⚜ Antidote to Anxiety ⚜ Attachment ⚜ Autopsy

Art: Elements ⚜ Principles ⚜ Photographs ⚜ Watercolour

Bruises ⚜ Caffeine ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Cruise Ships

Children ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ Childhood Bilingualism

Dangerousness ⚜ Drowning ⚜ Dystopia ⚜ Dystopian World

Culture ⚜ Culture Shock ⚜ Ethnocentrism & Cultural Relativism

Emotions: Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness) ⚜ Quirks

Facial Expressions ⚜ Laughter & Humour ⚜ Swearing & Taboo

Fantasy Creatures ⚜ Fantasy World Building

Generations ⚜ Literary & Character Tropes

Fight Scenes ⚜ Kill Adverbs

Food: Cooking Basics ⚜ Herbs & Spices ⚜ Sauces ⚜ Wine-tasting ⚜ Aphrodisiacs ⚜ List of Aphrodisiacs ⚜ Food History ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Literary & Hollywood Cocktails ⚜ Liqueurs

Genre: Crime ⚜ Horror ⚜ Fantasy ⚜ Speculative Biology

Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Kinds of Love ⚜ The Physiology of Love

How to Write: Food ⚜ Colours ⚜ Drunkenness

Jargon ⚜ Logical Fallacies ⚜ Memory ⚜ Memoir

Magic: Magic System ⚜ 10 Uncommon ⚜ How to Choose

Moon: Part 1 2 ⚜ Related Words

Mystical Items & Objects ⚜ Talisman ⚜ Relics ⚜ Poison

Pain ⚜ Pain & Violence ⚜ Poison Ivy & Poison Oak

Realistic Injuries 1 2 ⚜ Rejection ⚜ Structural Issues ⚜ Villains

Symbolism: Colors ⚜ Food ⚜ Numbers ⚜ Storms

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Terms of Endearment ⚜ Ways of Saying "No" ⚜ Yoga

Compilations: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ For Poets ⚜ Tips & Advice

all posts are queued. will update this every few weeks/months. send questions or requests here.