Writing Drabble - Tumblr Posts
Pessimists : This glass is half-empty.
Fatalists : This glass is half-empty and there's nothing I can do about it.
Optimists : This glass is half-full.
Idealists : This glass is half-full and I will fill it to the brink again.
Realists: There's some liquid inside this glass. And it's water.
Pragmatists: Glasses are made to be filled and emptied out. Yeah, to drink.
Dreamers : This glass is half-full, I'm going to fill it up and make it never empty out, ever again.
Me: Can I have some vodka, instead of water?
Me, when writing my fic: Oh my God! This is so good! I've improved so much, my story is just awesome! I can't wait to post it!!
Me, when reading other fics : Oh my God! This is so good! I've learned nothing, my story is just awful! I'm not posting that shit...
How the plot looks like in my brain:
How the plot ends up looking when I write:
Whole again
Me: About to post new fic soon.
Id, Ego and Superego:
Drawing straws
Id (excited mess): That sounds so awesome! There's literally everything I love! All those tropes I'll sell her soul for! Everything! This story is just... it!! I can't wait to read it!
Ego (blushing mess) : I know right! I came up with it all myself... from the top of my head, you know. Woke up one morning, and bam!
Superego (lordly mess) : Better get on with the writing then.
....
Id and Ego grinning devilishly :....
Superego: Hang on...
Compromising with myself...
Id (whining): Don't wanna...
Superego (tsking): Come on.
Id (whining louder): Noooo! Why me? Why doesn't Ego do it?
Superego: Trust me, I'm on it...
Id: It's so fucking boring...
Superego: Watch your French!
Id (muttering): Still... Life's unfair...
Superego (pinching nose bridge, sighing): Alright, if you finish this work assignement, I'll let you start writing your next chapter tonight. How about that?
Id: For real?
Superego: And Ego can join...
Id: Now, we're talking!
Christmas re-run
*When a family member asks to read my fics over dinner
Ego (flattered, cheeks blushing): Em, I don't know. I don't think I'm ready yet...
Superego (guarded, eyes squinting): Em, I don't know. I don't think I'm ready yet...
Id (unbothered, wine tasting): Em, I don't know. I don't think I'm ready yet...
Me (confused, head scratching) : Em, No?
Reader's comment: I thought it was a little bit rushed.
Writer's brain translator: I love this shit so freaking much! I don't want to let it go! GIVE IT BACK TO ME!
Ego (wailing) : This was so beautiful! I can't! My heart is bursting with too many emotions!
Id (softly tapping the shoulder) : I know, I know. It's going to be alright...
Supergo: What's going on?
Id: Always that ongoing fic...
Superego: Oh, is it written now?
Me, when writing my fic: Oh my God! This is so good! I've improved so much, my story is just awesome! I can't wait to post it!
Me, when reading other fics : Oh my God! This is so good! I've learned nothing, my story is just awful! I'm not posting that shit...
Who are ya gonna call?
*Self feeling down after a not-so-good response to fic*
Psyche’s Super Wacky Action Team be like:
Id :
Ego:
Superego:
Post-viral inspo
Superego (pacing up and down): Right, you can no longer go to work, but you will dedicate your time preparing distance education, detailing instructions, setting deadlines, expecting homework, correcting them...
Ego (staring at reflection in the mirror): We're technically jobless, right? Is that what you're trying to tell me?
Id (thinking hard): Mind reminding me how many Ao3 open tabs you have on your phone now?
Brainwash
Superego: You need a plotline. Bullet the elements of plot, open another document, jot ideas about your character's ID.
Ego: open a new page of your notebook to do that, write a title in lettering, change colours, underline the key words. Wow, it's so pretty!
Id: WTF?
Me (checks the plotline in colourful notebook after writing): Wow, I haven't written a single thing about what's in there...
writing practice:3 (criticism is welcome)
For the first time in months—maybe years— everything feels quiet. The sounds of crickets and the swish of the water from the nearby lake fills the silence. They've just finished a hunt, the adrenaline wearing off as they sip their beers. There's no stress, no tense muscles and no fear. It's quiet, for the first time in a long time.
The brothers relish in it, knees bumping into the others on the hood of the impala. (They'll use the excuse that there isn't much room for the two of them, but they both know it isn't true.)
They don't talk. They listen to the sound of rushing water and Dean listens to his brother breathe, slow and measured. Calm. There is no threat, there is nothing for them to worry about. At least not in the moment.
Dean has never been good at that, forgetting his stresses and being able to relax. But his brother, his Sammy, makes it easier. Just being by his side and knowing he's okay, that he's alive, makes him calmer.