#writers of tumble
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Happy STS!
Can you tell me more about how the system of incarceration works in Project Aria? I'm curious! Post a snippet if you like.
Hello, lovely! Thanks for the ask.
cracks knuckles
So, the city (it's never named in the book nor is a location ever given) is absolutely HUGE and in true hide-the-evidence fashion, all the messy, inconvenient stuff required for society to function, like waste management, food production, energy provision, and manufacturing takes place well outside of the city in an area called the facilitation zones.
The zones also house medical testing centres, but shh. Those aren't real. No-one's doing horrendous experiments on live human subjects so everyone else gets to benefit from all the incredible medical advances.
The zones are populated entirely by incarcerated people. Because this is a cyberpunk gloss-over and we're pretending everything is fine, honestly, shut up, look at all the neon and pretty technology, it's not a large-scale exploitative prison industrial complex according to the people who run the large-scale exploitative prison industrial complex. It's rehabilitation.
Do people get disproportionately cruel sentences for comparatively minor crimes? Yes. Do people end up there who have done absolutely nothing wrong other than exist in the wrong place at the wrong time? Yes. Is the criminal justice system deeply flawed and mostly structured around keeping the zones filled with rehabs at all times for reasons of low-cost expendable labour? Yes.
Is every single part of this system based on something that has existed in the real world at some point or currently does exist? Also yes.
It’s not a bed. It’s a slab of plastic. I do what I’m told though because god knows I’ve learned to do that in here. It hurts. There are too many places where my bones shouldn’t come into contact with the surface. Maybe it’s the wrong shape for me. Maybe I should be taller or built different. Maybe my bones should have more covering them than skin.
It wasn’t that they didn’t feed us, but I could never really stop moving. I don’t know if it was the effect of some frequency or chemical or something, or if it was just me, getting twitchier by the day, by the week, month, year. I know they measured our energy input and output. I remember that too. They acknowledged discrepancies, but they never did anything about it. That might’ve been another part of the experiments, but I’m never going to know and it doesn’t matter now. None of it matters now.
Thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to ramble about this 💜
#answered asks#writeblr tags#sts#storyteller saturday#project aria#wip snippet#am writing#writeblr community#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writers of tumble#my writing
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would it be okay to request a haymitch thing?
hi anon, thank you so much for asking first, it means a lot! i would personally feel uncomfortable writing a romantic relationship with haymitch but i’m down to writer platonic / father figure blurbs! let me know if u have any other questions <33
#the hunger games#blurb#thgs#allisluv answers#haymitch abernathy#haymitch x reader#headcanons#hcs#writer#writers of tumble#mockingjay
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a preview of my tomione fic
the concept: no time travel! the chamber of secrets occurs in the golden trio’s fifth year instead of their second year, and this time, harry does not stop diary riddle from consuming the soul of the diary’s victim (who is not ginny!). sixteen year old tom riddle is reborn, and he returns to hogwarts posing as a transfer student from durmstrang.
will riddle become a second dark lord, or will he instead become the order of the phoenix’s secret weapon?
perhaps if tom riddle was taught how to love and be loved, he would be saved from the dark path.
i’m on ao3 here, or have a peek below!
Chapter One:
Hermione, Harry and Ron’s fifth year had been positively horrid. It had begun with Harry’s story of the graveyard and Voldemort’s return. Whispers of lunatic and liar followed the trio’s every step. Then, Professor Umbridge, that toad, had been appointed to Hogwarts and Dumbledore forced into hiding. She had passed decree after decree, spreading her control over the school and squashing anything and everything that made life at Hogwarts fun. At least Harry had finally mastered occlumency, after one terrifying afternoon where he had seen a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. He had broken into Umbridge’s office and contacted Sirius through the fire, only to find him sitting in the kitchen, completely unharmed and berating Kreacher for injuring Buckbeak.
To compound this, a secret dungeon deep within the school called the Chamber of Secrets had been opened for the first time in over fifty years. Muggle-borns had been petrified left and right until finally the board of governors decided that the only person who had a chance at stopping all this was Dumbledore, and Umbridge had been removed from the castle, her bags thrown unceremoniously out of the doors behind her. The last week of term had been joyous: Dumbledore had returned, the attacks had ceased and the victims had been un-petrified. The castle had been celebrating wildly and even the professors joined in with the revelry. However, everyone, caught up in their delight, had promptly forgotten that the culprit responsible for opening the Chamber may still be walking among them.
On the very last day of school, a group of second-year Hufflepuffs’ excitement over the approaching holidays was dampened only slightly by the mysterious absence of their friend, Harper Greenford. Her bed had appeared untouched when her dormmates had woken up for breakfast (which was odd, as she was not known to be an early riser), and nobody had seen her since.
***
Listening to a little girl’s troubles had been so very boring. She’d complained about painfully trivial matters such as the amount of homework Professor McGonagall assigned and how she worried that her friends were talking about her behind her back, but Tom had been patient, he’d been kind. He’d written back to her and given his sympathies and gained her trust. How dreadful all that sounds, he wrote. Wasn’t she glad that she had a friend she could confide in?
It was worth it, after all. Every day that she poured her soul into him he grew stronger, and in turn he poured a little of his own back into her, slowly taking control of her. He’d made her kill the roosters, whose cries could kill his basilisk; and release the beast onto her Mudblood peers. Finally, right at the end of the term, he’d made her descend into the Chamber herself so that his resurrection could be completed.
Tom stood in the middle of the dim Chamber. One could hardly believe that this place, with its moss-covered walls and damp, earthy scent was once the lair of Salazar Slytherin, the greatest wizard of all time. The crumpled form of the girl lay at his feet. Her brown hair fanned out beneath her where she lay, and the grimy floor had left dark smudges across her pale skin. The beating in her chest had ceased, and her body grew cold; meanwhile Tom’s veins flowed with blood for the first time in fifty years and it was a glorious thing to finally have a form. He’d been trapped inside that godforsaken diary for the better half of a century, but no longer.
He picked up her wand and twirled it in his fingers, marvelling at the feeling of the cool wood against his skin. He pointed the wand towards the far end of the Chamber and shot a curse at the enormous wall. He let out a cold laugh as fragments of stone exploded in the distance, and his exhilaration only swelled as he shot spell after spell into the darkness.
“FINALLY,” He yelled out, savouring the way it echoed around him. Finally … Finally … Finally ...
“I am Lord Voldemort, heir to Salazar Slythern, and this world will be mine.”
Tom had been planning his return since he’d been awoken when the girl had started writing in his diary, but he still hadn’t decided what to do about the other Lord Voldemort. He had pushed the Harper girl to tell him as much about the modern wizarding world as she knew. It seemed that after he had split his soul into the diary, the later-Tom had begun to amass a following of dark witches and wizards and attempted to conquer Britain. He had disappeared following his attempt to kill the Harry Potter boy, but despite what the young girl had written, Tom was sure that Voldemort hadn’t actually died. Tom could seek him out and the two of them would make a powerful team, that was certain - they would be unstoppable. But would the other Lord ever share his power? Would Tom himself be willing to share?
For now, he would watch over the Potter boy and attempt to discern why he posed such a threat to the Dark Lord’s power, as the boy may prove to be a threat to Tom as well - or even a potential ally. For that, Tom would have to return to Hogwarts. He supposed it was inevitable anyhow; despite being trapped in that horrid diary for fifty years, Tom was still merely sixteen. He had no money, no home, and he suspected that he may still carry the Trace.
Tom’s stomach twisted with shame to admit it, but he had spent the past year thinking about the castle almost as much as he had dreamed about his plans for ascending to power. Although bored by his pathetic peers who could barely tell a Red Cap from a Hinkypunk, Tom missed his lessons. He missed being a prefect - the first role of responsibility he’d ever been trusted with. He especially missed the library, with its towering shelves of books that whispered with centuries of knowledge. He would spend hours there, pouring through books, and no one would dare interrupt him. Hogwarts was his home, and he was looking forward to his return.
***
The sun had long disappeared below the horizon on the last night of the school year, yet instead of relaxing with a hot cup of cocoa, Albus was pacing around his study. His old Persian rugs practically had a path worn into them from his years of walking to and fro.
A letter lay open on his desk, its lines of frantic writing smudged by worried teardrops and shaking hands. It was from the parents of a second-year student called Harper Greenford, who had written to Albus about how their daughter had not returned back on the Hogwarts Express.
He had ordered a thorough search of the school and the grounds, yet she was nowhere to be found.
The girl was a half-blood but still Albus suspected that her disappearance must be connected to the Chamber of Secrets. After all, the culprit had not been caught despite the recent lull in attacks. It seemed impossible for the school to reopen the following year while the heir of Slytherin may still be hiding within the midst of the innocent students.
The Ministry of Magic would have to be contacted the following morning if the girl still hadn’t been found, and arrangements would have to be made for the fate of the school and its students. Albus’ heart ached for his pupils; they had been through so much already.
His anxious pacing was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was rare for one of the teachers to call on him so late at night unless there was an emergency.
“Come in,” he called, seating himself behind his large oak desk and interlocking his fingers. The portraits on the walls hastily adopted acts of sleep, although their snores were slightly too loud to be believed.
Across the threshold stepped a tall teenage boy with neatly combed dark hair, high cheekbones, and eyes that were as dark as the night sky outside. Albus supposed he must have drunk a few too many goblets of Madam Rosmerta’s delicious mulled mead at the leaving feast because this boy looked like … But it wasn’t possible …
“Good evening, Sir,” said the boy in that cold voice that had haunted Albus for the better half of the last century. “I suppose you remember me? I’m not surprised that they named you Headmaster after Dippet.”
The horribly familiar individual sat down in the chair before the desk and watched Albus carefully, his face betraying nothing of his intentions. Despite the warm June weather, it felt as if a gust of icy wind had been let into Albus’ study.
The hair on the back of Albus’ neck stuck up and he felt as though something cold were trickling down his spine. Little surprised Albus anymore, but this, the renewed existence of this boy - it shocked him.
“Tom Riddle,” uttered Albus in a soft voice that threatened to shake. “Ah, but that is not possible. Tom Riddle grew into Lord Voldemort a long time ago.”
“Yes, I thought we might face some confusion there, so I’ve come to explain,” Tom leaned in closer to the desk and spoke with practised words. “Lord Voldemort placed a memory of his teenage self in a diary. A diary which would instruct one how to open the Chamber of Secrets. It was I, through a second year girl called Harper Greenford, who opened the Chamber once again. You see, she had been pouring her soul into the diary all year and it caused me to grow stronger and more powerful. Today, I instructed her to come down into the Chamber, and as she gave up the last of her soul, I once more gained a solid form.”
“Yes, the girl is dead,” he stated, seeing the look of grief that spread over Albus’ weary face.
Tom didn’t seem to realise it, but he had let slip some crucial details in his monologue. Albus had suspected that Lord Voldemort had created horcruxes, and the existence of this diary seemed to confirm his suspicion. The only question that remained was whether the diary had been the only one, or merely the first of many.
“So why is it that you have come to my office, Tom? I assume you were not merely looking for a conversational partner.” Albus offered him a strained smile, although he was feeling anything but jovial.
“I’ve come to ask you to allow me to return to Hogwarts for my sixth year,” he responded. Tom’s hands were clenched on the desk and his knuckles were turning white. Tom was practised in maintaining a straight face to cover his true emotions, but his hands had always been his tell: he was nervous.
“And why would I allow that?” asked Albus, peering at Tom over his half-moon spectacles. If this really was Tom Riddle, then there was now a second threat to the safety of the wizarding world. But this was merely a teenage boy, he was not yet the evil dark wizard of his later self. Albus could not simply strike him down on the spot, that would go against all Albus stood for. Perhaps it was safer - beneficial, even, to have this boy under Albus’ own watchful eye. Perhaps … perhaps there was a chance to reform young Tom, to bring him to their own side and use him as a weapon against Lord Voldemort. There was a muggle saying about enemies of enemies …
Albus always tried to see the best in people, so he believed that maybe if this boy was shown the love Lord Voldemort never had been, perhaps Tom would turn out differently. Perhaps Albus would be able to uncover the heart that Tom had tried so desperately to hide.
“Because if the Dark Lord learnt of my existence he would see me as a threat and kill me. This is the only safe place for me.” Tom replied, his dark eyes watching Albus’ reaction carefully, glimmering with a sort of desperation he rarely revealed.
Tom continued on. “Despite the continued ignorance of the Ministry, it seems that a war is coming. I could be useful to you. No one knows the Dark Lord like myself.”
Albus knew there was truth in that. Lord Voldemort would know of the power and potential of his younger self and would be threatened. Voldemort was a lone creature, he would never team up with the boy. No, he wanted all the power for himself and would not be willing to share. He loathed being reliant on anyone or anything. Albus had a duty to protect this teenage boy like any other - he was still an underage wizard and Albus could not in good conscience allow him to walk to his death outside of the castle walls.
“So you do not seek to find Lord Voldemort and join his ranks?” Albus asked, analysing Tom’s expression carefully. The portraits surrounding the study had long forgotten their act of sleep and were listening attentively. Some had even jostled into their neighbours’ frames and were whispering loudly to one other.
“Of course not, and he would not allow it. All I wish for is to complete my schooling and to be given another chance at life. I don’t know where along the track my later self went dark, but I am still merely a teenage wizard who wants the same as any other: to learn.” Tom straightened in his chair before Albus and looked at him with an open honesty. “Please do not allow your knowledge of my other self to corrupt your view of me.”
Albus observed Tom for several long moments. They both sat in perfect silence, the only noises came from the portraits and the whirs and clicks from the magical instruments lining the shelves.
“So, what to do?” Albus moved his gaze to the upset sky outside the ornate window. A storm was brewing and the summer air was tense and electric.
“I understand your situation and I do not wish to send you into harm's way.” Albus continued, folding his hands on the desk. “For this reason, I will indeed allow you to attend Hogwarts. But you must assure me that you will not open the Chamber of Secrets again. I know you were the culprit fifty years ago, and I am headmaster now, not Professor Dippet, so your actions will not evade my notice.”
“Of course, Sir.” Tom replied quickly. His pale face brightened and his fists relaxed. “I completely understand. I will be on my best behaviour.”
“Additionally, you must instruct us on how to find and enter the Chamber. The girl’s body needs to be returned to her family for the funeral.” The family of the poor girl would be devastated, Albus dreaded having to write the letter.
Tom’s face went tense at the thought of revealing the location of his precious Chamber, yet he nodded, “of course, Sir.”
“I will be watching you closely. Any indication that you have foregone your promises and I will not delay your removal from the school. Evidently you have nowhere to stay these holidays, so for this one time I will allow you to remain at Hogwarts, but you will be under constant supervision from the teachers and will assist them in their duties over the break. For now, you can return to the Slytherin dorms and stay there. Be warned, I will place a charm over the entrance to ensure that you aren’t wandering the castle at night. Goodnight, Tom.”
Tom stood and gave a small smile of thanks, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes (his smiles never did) and he exited the office quietly.
At once the portraits burst into protest.
“Madness. Absolute madness, I say!”
“The boy is lying! The evil scoundrel.”
“You are too soft! If I were still headmaster I would have him shackled to the dungeon wall and beaten for his nerve.”
Albus held up a hand to silence them. “My decision is final. I cannot throw a young wizard into harm’s way, no matter their past, or in this case, future. He may even turn out to be a blessing in the war that fast approaches us. Now, more than ever, we need to promote unity within the magical community because it is only through love and acceptance that we can defeat the dark. I do not wish to debate this issue any longer.”
The portraits recognised this as a lost battle and fell silent.
Placing the boy in Slytherin had seemed the best choice to Albus. Of course, there was the risk that he would find supporters within their pureblood ranks, but there was even more risk of placing him in another house. Gryffindor was out of the question. It would be unthinkable to have him sleep in the same dormitory as Harry Potter, where, despite Tom’s promises to do good, it would be all too easy for him to harm Harry. Neither Filius nor Pomona were part of the Order, so Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were also unideal options as their Heads of House could not be confided in about the true nature of Tom Riddle and therefore could not watch over him in the proper way. In Slytherin, Severus would be able to keep a close eye over the boy as was required. Albus saw the potential in young Tom, but he was not fool enough to trust him.
Allowing Tom to remain at Hogwarts for the holidays was also the safest option. For now, he required constant supervision which could not be provided by a working wizarding family. Alternate arrangements for the following holidays could be made later when the boy’s trustworthiness was established and there was more time.
There still lay many difficulties in the issue of Horace and Hagrid, who would both remember Tom. He had been a brilliant student, and Hagrid, having been caught and accused by Tom of opening the Chamber, was sure to not have forgotten his face, even over the decades. Albus hated having to do this, but there was no other option for it: he would have to alter their memories of the boy. He knew that if they realised who Tom was, they would be blinded by the horror of his other selve’s actions and may act rashly. Perhaps this would all turn out to be a blessing. Tom could be the key to defeating Lord Voldemort - after all, he had said it himself: no one knew his weaknesses like Tom himself.
Albus reached for a blank scroll of parchment and with a heavy heart he began to write a letter to the deceased girl’s parents. The sky broke open with a crack, and the pouring of rain accompanied the scratches of his quill as he wrote late into the night.
#ao3#ao3 author#fanfiction#fanfic#tom riddle#harry potter#harry potter and the half blood prince#hermione granger#hermione x tom#tomione#draco malfoy#dramione#harry potter fanfiction#tiktok#HP tok#writing#writers of tumble#slow burn#enemies to lovers#oneshot#harry potter au#academic rivals#dark academia
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Manic
$1200 gone. Boyfriend ignored. Journals filled with plans. Hope for the future. All of it.
Im manic.
everything is going according to plan. Maybe I actually am getting better. Im practicing self love, im taking care of my body. Everything is going perfectly
“You’re just manic.” Fuck fuck fuck.
That means that this will end that means it’s just a viscous cycle. Im going to be depressed again. I was getting better. I know I was. I was getting better. But those words have been said. Meaning it’s all going to end. Then I’ll be back where I was, sitting and sleeping and losing myself all over again,
Because I’m just manic.
#writer#writing#write#poet#poetry#poem#writers of tumble#mental health#bipolar disorder#writers on tumblr
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Script Analysis ~ Readers Class on 4/20
Reading and analyzing scripts is one of the best ways to improve your writing! It’s so much easier to see glaring problems and brilliant writing in work that is not your own – and once you see it and know what to look for, you can apply it to your scripts.
More Information.
**One-On-One Virtual private classes are available with Ms. Sargent. Learn how to analysis scripts for your personal projects or learn to become a Reader specializing in positive, constructive feedback for other writers. Click FOR more details on these one-on-one private classes and to register.
#scriptwriting#screenwriting#write#script#writing#amwriting#script chat#writers of tumble#writers on tumblr#scriptwriters network#screenwriters network#script analysis#writers community
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How Do I Keep Getting Published?
I have the uncanny ability to piss off everyone on both sides of an issue. It's a writer's talent really. Or maybe that's just the libertarian in me.
#politics#funny#writers life#writers of tumble#writing#truth#nonfiction#books#author#libertarian#conservative#issues#political#talent#writer
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I wish more people could see how valuable it is to love with the soul, because that is why we came into the world: to love, to accept, and care for ourselves as we are. The human being, unfortunately, has an evil, and it is taking its toll, because, not accepting himself, he is not able to love himself; he wants to be different… other…, because he is not satisfied with what he was born with. And no, it is not a matter of being different, nor of making ourselves up or changing ourselves according to the irrational idea we carry in our heads; the one that has been born due to the lack of love towards our own nature. It is about looking at ourselves as a whole, with our defects and virtues, our strengths and weaknesses, accepting ourselves in our totality, because this is what gives us value before the world. Being unique makes us irreplaceable.
Ojalá más gente viera lo valioso que es amar con el alma, porque a eso hemos venido al mundo: a amarnos, a aceptarnos tal cual somos, a querernos y a cuidarnos. El ser humano, lamentablemente, tiene un mal, y le está cobrando factura, pues, al no aceptarse, no es capaz de amarse; quiere ser distinto… otro… diferente, porque no está satisfecho con lo que ha nacido. Y no, no se trata de ser otro ni de maquillarnos o cambiarnos de acuerdo a la idea irracional que cargamos en la cabeza; ésa que ha nacido por la falta de amor hacia nuestra propia naturaleza. Se trata de mirarnos completos, con nuestros defectos y virtudes, nuestras fortalezas y debilidades, aceptándonos en nuestra totalidad, porque esto es lo que nos da valor ante el mundo. Ser únicos nos hace irreemplazables.
#writers#authors#2024#escribiendo en soledad#escritores en tumblr#the man of solitude#el hombre de la soledad#writing in solitude#poets on tumbl#writers on tumblr#pensamientos#poeticstories#posted in threads
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The thing with living toys is that they need belief to keep them alive. They need at least one person to believe they’re real and not just a toy. Everyone knows this. Right?
Well, at least Jimmy does. And as the sheriff of a town of very real humans, yes sir, very real, it is of the utmost importance that he believes. So, he does.
Jimmy believes. Jimmy believes with all his heart. He loves Tumble Town, it’s his home. He would do anything for them. So, if all it takes is at least one person to believe they’re all real then so be it; he’ll believe to hell and back.
All it takes is one person to believe.
Jimmy tends to avoid mirrors, and water streams, and windows, and lakes, and— Jimmy doesn’t look at himself too much is the point. It’s a habit he developed soon after becoming sheriff. He tells others, and himself, it’s because a good sheriff can’t be too concerned with his appearance, he has to focus on his town, his people. He tells others it’s because a good sheriff is humble and not self-absorbed. Deep down, Jimmy knows that’s not the truth; Jimmy knows why he avoids mirrors.
All it takes is one person to believe.
Issues aside, Jimmy’s proud of Tumble Town. He’s done a good job if he says so himself. Tumble Town is welcoming, warm. It may not be the biggest or the flashiest, or the richest, but it’s home. Its citizens are kind, understanding, and the best people a sheriff could ask for. Safe to say, he is pretty happy with the town he’s built, with the community he has created. The town is happy, they respect him, all the other rulers respect him. It’s great!
…well, all but one. That little god. Joel. Stratos. A splinter on Jimmy’s side. Constantly trying to launch him into the sky. Threatening to blow up The Liability. Building those stupid taunts around his area. Calling him a toy. He is not a toy ok! He is a very real person! Just like the rest of Tumble Town. Real people, led by a real person. He is not a toy. He is real! A real person! A real sheriff!
All it takes is one person to believe.
This time Joel had gone too far. Or maybe he didn’t, that’s what the town folk said, but Jimmy had just had enough. Calling him a toy is one thing. He could take all sorts of berating and taunting. Calling his citizens toys? Calling his town, a play set? that had crossed a line. The town folk, ever so kind, had told him it was ok, that it was only a matter of time until the town received the same treatment as it’s sheriff, that it wasn’t a big deal, but Jimmy wasn’t having it. Tumble Town was real, its citizens were real, the work they had all put in was real. It was real because Jimmy believed it was.
All it takes is one person to believe.
Overreaction or not, he didn’t care; either way he was making his way over to Stratos because he’d be dammed if he let Tumble Town suffer anymore.
“Joel!” Stratos was golden, too golden.
“Why hello there, sheriff, what brings you—"
“Oh please, enough pleasantries! I know it’s you making the stupid builds around Tumble Town!” Stratos was metallic, too metallic.
“What? Are you not happy to have more citizens around?”
“Joel, my citizens are not toys. I need you to stop. Right now.” Stratos was reflective, too reflective.
“Hey, toy citizens fit for a toy sheriff. Jim, listen if you’re still in denial I can recommend a good—” Stratos was too reflective for Jimmy’s liking.
“Stop! Stop! Stop it! Tumble Town is real, ok?” Stratos was too reflective, and that question was not aimed at Joel. “As real as they come,” Neither was that statement. “And I will not have you disrespecting my town or my citizens anymore. I tried to come here and talk things out, get you to stop in a civilized manner, but apparently you can’t be reasoned with. So, let me make this clear.” Fueled by nothing but anger and respect for his town, Jimmy walked forward, towards Joel. Hoping he looked at least somewhat intimidating; trying his hardest not to look at his reflection. “If you dare mess with Tumble Town again, I will not hesitate to take harsher action.” He flicked a flint and steel, as a warning. A final warning. “Good bye Joel.”
Jimmy turned to leave. Walking towards the edge, eyes on the ground to avoid the gold and polished quartz that coated the island.
“You’re a toy Jimmy, do what you want, you’re not a real threat.” Jimmy leapt off the side of Stratos, letting himself fall before opening his elytra. “So long, sheriff!”
Stratos has a waterfall. Stratos is too reflective, and Jimmy almost hit the ground.
All it takes is one person to believe.
Jimmy believes, no, Jimmy knows Stratos is the worst place on these lands. Just visiting makes him woozy. So bright, so golden, so reflective… its ruler doesn’t help it either. A god he says. If anyone is a poser here it’s him. Right? … right?
He’s spiraling again. It’s no big deal. He hates to admit it but Joel gets to him. It also doesn’t help that he caught a glimpse of his reflection and he clearly saw a— “no. No. No. No. Stop it, Jim! This is exactly what he wants! He’s messing with you. He’s a god for crying out loud! A pathetic one, but that doesn’t change the fact that he can probably do god magic... stuff... things. Right?” He looks at his deputy, attentively following his downwards spiral, despite the fact that none of this speech is aimed at him, “right? It was probably an illusion. He can probably do that. It was just an illusion… yeah.” Norman seems to agree, or, rather, he doesn’t seem to disagree. So, Jimmy settles. He settles for believing. He believes, wholeheartedly, that the string and loop that he saw coming out of his back is not there. He believes he is real. He has to believe he is real.
All it takes to keep the magic of Tumble Town alive is for one person to believe, and if that person, real person, has to be Jimmy, then hell be dammed; he’ll believe to Stratos and back.
#empires smp#empires smp season 2#esmp 2#jimmy solidarity#esmp jimmy#empires jimmy#smallishbeans#empires joel#esmp joel#joel smallishbeans#empires fic#?#kinda#listen im not a writer#I just needed to get this out of my head#jimmy solidarity fic#sheriff jimmy#tumble town#stratos
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30 days of Harvest Moon day 15 - favorite cutscene
finished something i sketched a few months ago for this prompt, surely this is still a relevant meme … haha…ha
anyway it’s the weirdest heart event ever so it’s naturally my favorite
#you wanted other characters? um… happy rocktober!#finally showing you all the context for my profile picture#i really wonder what the scenario writers were ON for this#i wouldn’t wish the localization of this event on anyone lmao but it’s even more strange in japanese + his dialogue was left in the remake#sos awl#bokumono#story of seasons#harvest moon a wonderful life#hm awl#harvest moon#story of seasons a wonderful life#hm anwl#rock tumbling (sos)#my art#30 days of harvest moon#harvest moon another wonderful life#hmanwl#sos rock#fanart#awl pony#awl rock#yes rock took off his vest and then his sweater and then he put his vest back on and then he started sobbing and flexing at the same time#can you really say he wouldn’t#not sure whether he was trying to show compassion to the turtle by giving it his shirt or whether he just tossed it carelessly#rock x pony#rock (awl)#he’s… rockenough#barbie movie#barbie meme
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#art#tumble#pencil#poems on tumblr#arabic poetry#spilled ink#words#writers and poets#original poem#urdu lines#memes#dark poetry#aesthetic#dark academic aesthetic#dark aesthetic#dark academia#academia#chaotic academia#poets on tumblr#dead poets society#tumblelog#blog#written#spilled thoughts#thoughts
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Bit scared to ask, but I keep seeing so many posts about how there's so much more fem!Tav/Gale content compared to queer content... do you have any recommendations? Because ppl on my dash work extra hard to put queer content out and whenever I go into the tag I only ever see queer content even though I prefer female Tav content myself ;; I thought since you also focus on fem!Tav content, maybe you'd have some blogs and stuff that you can name that have that kind of content consistently?
I am so honored that you felt comfortable asking me about this ^^ I do hope I answer your question in a way that is satisfactory to what you are looking for!
I have several amazing writer friends who have graciously allowed me to share their works on here. These people are truly talented so I know you will find some quality reads. Admittedly, I was at Job #1 this morning when I sent the reblog from @spellbooking so i wasn't in the headspace to even think about this as deeply as I would have liked so hopefully this will redeem my dismal excuse for helping earlier lol.
Now, some of these might not be Queer!Tav specifically, but I promise you, you will have plenty of queer-focused, gale-themed pairings with these authors. You won't be disappointed.
ALSO: These are varying degrees of SFW to NSFW. So, please explore any tags before indulging! **Minors DNI**
First up is from @wixed! You can find their master list here! This will keep you well-read for hours.
Next, we have @likethelightfromorionabove! You won't regret visiting their AO3. I PROMISE.
Of course, no list would be complete without the fabulous @nicocoer! Find them on Tumblr or on AO3!
This next one is another writing buddy of mine! Elf does such a great job, and I highly suggest you give their AO3 a visit! I'm in the middle of (slowly) getting through Pray For Me. Working 7 days a week makes it hard to get any good reading in unfortunately, but this one has a tab pinned at all times. Google hates me for it.
Now, if you want some Bladeweave or Oakweave, here's an AO3 for you from fiveforchibis!
Lastly, (but absolutely not least,) here is a fic that was shared with me that features a transmasc character, written by trans author, Wings_of_Night!
Of course, for anyone who has any recommendations of your own please share! Until then, I do hope you enjoy all of this delicious work!
#mira's ask box#asks answered#shared with permission#bg3 fanfiction#fanfic writing#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#ao3 link#ao3 writers#fanfiction writing#fic writers#bg3#baldur's gate 3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#gale#baldur's gate gale#baldurs gate#fic writing#fanfiction writers#fanfic authors#obviously not an exhaustive list#but these are the ones I was able to get permission to share#and im also tumbling at work#lol#shhh#don't tell anyone
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#Notes by Nikki#fanfic#fan fic#fanfiction#fan fiction#writing#writers#reading#readers#authors#literature#polls#tumblr#tumblr polls#social media#tumblring#tumbling
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It's only been ten years since the Axtiuri contact fleet arrived, but you get used to things so quickly.
"Penny for your thoughts," my mum says.
"It's funny, we never knew how lonely we were before the Axtiuri."
"Yes. Just like when I was young, when we first got the internet."
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You never message first. I'm always left here wanting more & you can't lift a finger for me.
#words#literature#poem#quotes#spilled thoughts#writers on tumble#poetry#spilled ink#aesthetic#marvel#what if#loki#captain america#travel#architecture#europe#france#riverdale#olivia rodrigo#titans#art#minecraft#illustration#wlw#mcu#dream smp#dark academia#cottagecore#black lives matter#blacklivesmatter
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Creative Writing Challenge – February
This MONTHLY challenge is for those who want to work on writing new ideas and who would like to maintain a continuous creativity flow with your writing.
Find out more here.
#creative writing#creative challenge#screenwriting#scriptwriting#write#script#amwriting#script chat#writers craft#creative inspiration#creative process#writers of tumble#scriptwriters network#screenwriters network
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When you are in your hardest time and still manage to make someone smile. It's a wonderful feeling when you realize that this smile is only because of you.
~ Swagatika Mohapatra
#quotations#inspiration#love quotes#quotes on tumblr#tumblrpost#writers on tumblr#motivationalquotes#motivational blog#quotes#life quotes#heartofinspirationquotes#heartofinspiration#quoteoftheday#writers on tumble#tumblr quotations#tumblr quotes#viralpost
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