If you use it you aren't a writer.... the fuck
a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted
their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"
"Every writer"?
come on
My dudes have you ever promised yourself you won't project onto a character and then....
Give them your likes and dislikes and music taste and mannerisms
When ur mutuals w/ some cool ass people rb if u agree
I don't care about sports but my friend's family is loaded
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Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.
Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨
Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.
Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.
Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.
Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.
Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.
Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”
Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.
Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.
The public (I think) school system for ya. Fuck public school.
Teagan Crashes The Fuck Out
I’m so sick of all these tests and exams. Just let me go home. Stop making me do stuff, you’re making my brain hurt. Stop being so loud and obnoxious, no one thinks you’re cute. No one thinks you’re funny. No one likes your racist Asian jokes. Just let me have my… what? Summer break is a day shorter than two months?!? YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT I HAVE TO GO BACK TO THAT HELLHOLE
ON
THIRTY
FIRST?!?!????
NAHHHHHH FUCK YOU. TO WHOEVER MADE THAT DECISION, I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU WALK INTO A ROOM, YOU FORGET WHY YOU WENT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE WARM. I HOPE YOU STEP BAREFOOT ON THE MYSTERY SPOT ON YOUR CARPET. I HOPE YOU BITE INTO A SOFT FOOD AND GET SOMETHING CRUNCHY. I HOPE YOU BITE INTO A HOT FOOD ANS INSTEAD OF WARMNESS, YOU GET THAT DISGUSTING HALF COLD-HALF HOT TEMPERATURE. I HOPE ALL OF YOUR SOCKS HAVE HOLES IN THEM. I HOPE WHEN YOU GET HOME, YOUR PET ISNT HAPPY TO SEE YOU. I HOPE YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW GETS CANCELLED. I HOPE YOUR MOTHER TELLS YOU SHE NEVER LOVED YOU.
WE BE NOT FRIENDS. FOR YOU ARE MY GREATEST ADVERSARY, MY MORTAL ENEMY. YOU, WHO MAKE ME STAY IN THE CHILD-FILLED, SHIT-SCENTED HELLHOLE FOR JUST SHY OF NINE MONTHS. YOU, WHO STRAIGHTEN YOUR TIE AND PRETEND YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE SCHOOL EXPERIENCE, DESPITE THE FACT THAT THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN SCHOOL WAS IN THE FUCKING STONE AGE.
YOU ARE MY MORTAL ENEMY, YET YOU KNOW NOT ME AS A PERSON.
BUT I KNOW YOU
I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE
When your trash gremlin pukes and ruins your plans cause now you have to take care of a little baby guy
When you have an animal and text people nothing pictures of them.