yay im violencegender :D
On the next episode of Are Maleness and Sadism Interlinked or Am I Just Weird About My Masculinity and Kink
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On the next episode of Are Maleness and Sadism Interlinked or Am I Just Weird About My Masculinity and Kink
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the most endearing thing about humans is when they say "i will change the world because you are in it."
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if i die rn im gonna be SO MAD
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I will save myself. I will save you. I will save us all. Shirt off my back, blood from my flesh, but I will. I WILL.
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We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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working on chapter 2 of my novel. if i have motivation after i'm done with that i'll also work on The Wrong Thing To Do
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just finished The Haunting of Bly Manor...
damn, what a sad love story
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Run V
You decide to enter the room you have yet to ever enter before. The walls have nothing notable to them save for a couple of paintings. One is a not too stylized painting of what looks like a nice garden next to a pool, bright and cheery. The other is an impressionist painting of some dirt path on an autumn evening-- exciting colours radiating out from the streetlamp and leaves. There are two windows surrounded by thick beige curtains. With dwindling strength and consciousness, you try to open both of them. Neither budge, however. Your line of vision turns smaller with each second, a growing dark vignette overtaking your periphery. Below your feet is a carpet; somehow you can feel its rough fibers despite having shoes on. You look down at the confusing and abstract pattern of warm-hot tones of red-green-beige-brown and feel some heavy vertigo.
Glancing around quickly before you faceplant directly onto the carpet, you take in some more details. You have enough time only to do one thing before you take your involuntary nap. You could swear you feel something tickling you under your chin. Too tired and knowing you'll slap yourself in the face if you try to hit it, you just tuck your chin in before turning in a slow circle to observe more of your surroundings.
To the right is a couch with a light beige and white fluffy blanket on it. It looks so cozy. A little closer to the door and still on your right is a large dark red blanket with a tiger on it, laying in a heap on the floor. You shudder, wondering if your insides would look like that if taken out. By whatever that thing is. The 'soulless sibling' and begrudging 'friend of the smoke.' To the left, on the sill of the furthest window, is a small metal beam. Like a piece from an unfinished furniture project. It's time to decide what to do.
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Run V
You decide to enter the room you have yet to ever enter before. The walls have nothing notable to them save for a couple of paintings. One is a not too stylized painting of what looks like a nice garden next to a pool, bright and cheery. The other is an impressionist painting of some dirt path on an autumn evening-- exciting colours radiating out from the streetlamp and leaves. There are two windows surrounded by thick beige curtains. With dwindling strength and consciousness, you try to open both of them. Neither budge, however. Your line of vision turns smaller with each second, a growing dark vignette overtaking your periphery. Below your feet is a carpet; somehow you can feel its rough fibers despite having shoes on. You look down at the confusing and abstract pattern of warm-hot tones of red-green-beige-brown and feel some heavy vertigo.
Glancing around quickly before you faceplant directly onto the carpet, you take in some more details. You have enough time only to do one thing before you take your involuntary nap. You could swear you feel something tickling you under your chin. Too tired and knowing you'll slap yourself in the face if you try to hit it, you just tuck your chin in before turning in a slow circle to observe more of your surroundings.
To the right is a couch with a light beige and white fluffy blanket on it. It looks so cozy. A little closer to the door and still on your right is a large dark red blanket with a tiger on it, laying in a heap on the floor. You shudder, wondering if your insides would look like that if taken out. By whatever that thing is. The 'soulless sibling' and begrudging 'friend of the smoke.' To the left, on the sill of the furthest window, is a small metal beam. Like a piece from an unfinished furniture project. It's time to decide what to do.
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the incest meta expands with every idea i generate from my human brain that is not a robot because robots cannot do nor conceive of the intricacies of incest and the incest strats thank yew
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Run V
You decide to enter the room you have yet to ever enter before. The walls have nothing notable to them save for a couple of paintings. One is a not too stylized painting of what looks like a nice garden next to a pool, bright and cheery. The other is an impressionist painting of some dirt path on an autumn evening-- exciting colours radiating out from the streetlamp and leaves. There are two windows surrounded by thick beige curtains. With dwindling strength and consciousness, you try to open both of them. Neither budge, however. Your line of vision turns smaller with each second, a growing dark vignette overtaking your periphery. Below your feet is a carpet; somehow you can feel its rough fibers despite having shoes on. You look down at the confusing and abstract pattern of warm-hot tones of red-green-beige-brown and feel some heavy vertigo.
Glancing around quickly before you faceplant directly onto the carpet, you take in some more details. You have enough time only to do one thing before you take your involuntary nap. You could swear you feel something tickling you under your chin. Too tired and knowing you'll slap yourself in the face if you try to hit it, you just tuck your chin in before turning in a slow circle to observe more of your surroundings.
To the right is a couch with a light beige and white fluffy blanket on it. It looks so cozy. A little closer to the door and still on your right is a large dark red blanket with a tiger on it, laying in a heap on the floor. You shudder, wondering if your insides would look like that if taken out. By whatever that thing is. The 'soulless sibling' and begrudging 'friend of the smoke.' To the left, on the sill of the furthest window, is a small metal beam. Like a piece from an unfinished furniture project. It's time to decide what to do.
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i PROMISE i'm still working on The Wrong Thing To Do
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Run V
You decide to enter the room you have yet to ever enter before. The walls have nothing notable to them save for a couple of paintings. One is a not too stylized painting of what looks like a nice garden next to a pool, bright and cheery. The other is an impressionist painting of some dirt path on an autumn evening-- exciting colours radiating out from the streetlamp and leaves. There are two windows surrounded by thick beige curtains. With dwindling strength and consciousness, you try to open both of them. Neither budge, however. Your line of vision turns smaller with each second, a growing dark vignette overtaking your periphery. Below your feet is a carpet; somehow you can feel its rough fibers despite having shoes on. You look down at the confusing and abstract pattern of warm-hot tones of red-green-beige-brown and feel some heavy vertigo.
Glancing around quickly before you faceplant directly onto the carpet, you take in some more details. You have enough time only to do one thing before you take your involuntary nap. You could swear you feel something tickling you under your chin. Too tired and knowing you'll slap yourself in the face if you try to hit it, you just tuck your chin in before turning in a slow circle to observe more of your surroundings.
To the right is a couch with a light beige and white fluffy blanket on it. It looks so cozy. A little closer to the door and still on your right is a large dark red blanket with a tiger on it, laying in a heap on the floor. You shudder, wondering if your insides would look like that if taken out. By whatever that thing is. The 'soulless sibling' and begrudging 'friend of the smoke.' To the left, on the sill of the furthest window, is a small metal beam. Like a piece from an unfinished furniture project. It's time to decide what to do.
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i wrote 5 whole sentences in my novel!
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my throat hurts from the urge to cry. here. have my heart. stomp on it a little bit and some more too. give me something that's not life or death but sure feels like it to talk to my therapist about.
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what kind of novel is it you have in the works? (at first i was going to ask the standard "what's your novel about" but that's a bit more restrictive maybe, so please pick whichever question has a vibe more applicable to your project, if you want to respond at all that is)
I could tell you my novel is about x character or x scenario or x trope or x happens in it.
But really, my novel is about hope. About community, adventure, change, and hope. I want someone young and afraid like I've been for a long time to one day read this novel and think, I'm not going to die like this.
To think, I'm not alone. Or, I can save myself. Or, there are good people out there who I will one day meet. Or even, I deserve to be safe and happy and free-- I deserve to have my childhood back.
These are all important and extremely valuable ideas to give both children and adults in impossibly horrible situations, and this novel is by and for survivors of abuse, assault, poverty, homelessness, etc. This will be a novel that says "yeah, you CAN'T always fight and defeat your dragons. But you can run, you can find or make a safe place. There is no shame in doing what you need to do to protect yourself. A lot of stories like this one end in tragedy. But not this story. This is a happy, hopeful story that spits in the face of other stories that tell you you cannot outrun the evil. It's a story that yells NO when told you won't make it, that it's always best to stay with the familiar evil rather than taking a leap of faith. This story is a happy story for unhappy people."
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