I was madly in love with you, I forgot to love myself.
Unknown  (via intensional)

(Source: laceyfashionista, via mangled-passion)

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 31,523 notes.

I
You are the moon and I was the tides
Singing to shorelines and rising to meet the feet of strangers
Only to kiss them and fall away
You are the moon and I was so undoubtedly yours

II
It is a new moon and it is a new you and I am trying to be yours
It was not my idea for the tides to rise and fall twice a day
But with an empty sky and no one to look to
I am lost at sea

III
I have found my way to land
With the sun on the horizon and a life to look forward to
I no longer have heartstrings pulled by your gravity
You are the moon and I am the sun

-I am still hoping for an eclipse… blood-to-ink

MRM

(via blood-to-ink)

(via mangled-passion)

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 48 notes.
imgfave:

Posted by soulguard

imgfave:

Posted by soulguard

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 915 notes. .
MY BOOK IS ON SALE AND IS NOW FOR EBOOKS

(via writingsforwinter)

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 209 notes.

Watson and Holmes

Your mother’s new favourite word is “closure.”

“It’s the last step of the healing process,” she says, and it sounds like something out of a book a third-rate, moderately handsome TV psychologist would write in his last ditch attempt to save his fame. “And I think it would really help. You’re just wasting away, and I don’t think you understand how that makes me feel as a mother. Start eating again, sleep less often, go back to writing, or I swear I’ll call Dr Finch, I swear I will. I honestly think it will help, so just go, won’t you? They want you there. He would want you there. Closure, honey.”

You shrug her off and lock yourself in your room, even as the smell of macaroni and cheese—your favourite—wafts through your door.

-

Levi plays piano the way an artist would paint his masterpiece. Every note is rich with thought, yet airy with a sense of effortlessness. As you sit there on the adjacent padded bench, you become lost in the music, and cannot muster any desire for a map. His spiral staircase arpeggios wind skyward, graceful and glossy, followed by chords that snap with the almost morbid, singular finality of the closing of a coffin lid. You don’t know the song he’s playing, but its an odd rhapsody of soaring highs and devastating lows, reminiscent of druggie.

Read More

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 1 note.

Anonymous asked: Do you have any resources for writing animal (or more specifically half-animal) characters?

fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment:

Well, first of all you need to know which animal you plan on using as the ‘animal side’ for the character. Then…

Know Their Anatomy

All animals have different capabilities based on their general make-up. They have evolved to survive in their main environment which in turn grants them various abilities.

Knowing how their anatomy relates to these abilities is a good place to start. Whether it’s enhanced hearing, great strength, high sensitivity to smell or the acquisition of extra senses outside of those experienced by a human… learn everything you can about what the animal is capable of and consider how it could work with an animal/human hybrid character.

Know Their Behaviour

The thing that will really differentiate your hybrid character from a regular, human character, is the way they behave due to their ‘animal’ side.

So, for example, Momomiya Ichigo from Tokyo Mew Mew, upon acquiring feline DNA, suddenly exhibits more ‘feline’ type behaviour (even though it is often used for comedic effect). All animals have different movements and quirks (such as a Meerkat standing up tall and turning its head left, then right, then left… or a dog cocking its head and lifting/folding back its ears). These behaviours have a specific function in the wild, of course, but even humans have their own versions (expressions, posture…). Replace the more ‘human’ behaviours with those exhibited by our animal counterparts to emphasise the animal side to your character.

Additionally, each animal has its own way of communicating the way it feels or for to give specific messages to other members of its pack/herd/flock, etc. It also benefits a hybrid character to use some of these communicators (like, growling, purring, bleating, etc) instead of human exclamations and noises.

There’s not much else I can really say on this subhect as a lot of this will depend on your researching…! Use the resources below as a start, but Google (and books!) will be a better friend to you than me for this.

Resources:

Best of luck…!

- enlee

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 573 notes.

forficwritersbyficwriters:

theinformationdump:

Body Language Cheat Sheet for Writers

As described by Selnick’s article:

Author and doctor of clinical psychology Carolyn Kaufman has released a one-page body language cheat sheet of psychological “tells” (PDF link) fiction writers can use to dress their characters.

~Stormraven24

(via immabutterfish)

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 281,204 notes.
I dream in colors and hues and when you touch me, I dream in shades of you. Your fingers on my chest is a clear sky blue. Your tongue in my ear is a deep maroon. Your hand creeping up my thigh is the fiery red of something new. Your morning eyes greeting me are the grey blankness of morning dew. Your hand on my stomach, the silent pink of a womb. Your goodbye kisses, the tangible blackness of a tomb. Go ahead and touch me. I want to be colored in by you.
Shades of You | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

(via mangled-passion)

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 783 notes.

wordsandchocolate:

I made a slideshow about how to create a fictional character… I got most of the information from the ‘start writing fiction’ (free) course on the OpenUniversity website and found it incredibly useful so here’s a visual version for you :)

(via motherhenna)

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 111,512 notes.
veiledsentiments:

michaelshiatusbeard:

scarfshipping:

yours-truly-calliope:

This is a useful resource…

i’ll be the most creative murderer the world has ever seen

two types of people

#i can practically hear the hannibal fandom screaming hallelujah

veiledsentiments:

michaelshiatusbeard:

scarfshipping:

yours-truly-calliope:

This is a useful resource…

i’ll be the most creative murderer the world has ever seen

two types of people

#i can practically hear the hannibal fandom screaming hallelujah

(Source: inthepitofmystomach, via hiddlesnugget)

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 93,201 notes. .
He carries stars in his pockets because he knows she fears the dark. Whenever sadness pays her a visit, he paints galaxies on the back of her hands.
Alaska Gold (via hanniebal)

(Source: psych-facts, via sincerely-draco)

This was posted 4 weeks ago. It has 24,962 notes.

The Three Dimensions of Character

mooderino:

http://muhammad-ejleh.deviantart.com/art/2D-isn-t-enough-328368675

A well-rounded character who feels like a real person is obviously what we all want to write. Sometimes this naturally occurs, maybe because the character is based on a real person or on an archetype of the genre. In some cases they may be based on another fictional character from a favourite book.

The writer feels comfortable with writing about them because they know exactly who they’re writing about.

There’s no reason why that approach won’t work. Obviously there’s the danger of creating a cliché or stereotype, but even then that can work if the story is strong enough.

If, however, you want to write a character from the ground up, a character who is as real as any person living, yet wholly your own creation, then there are three aspects you need to know in depth: the physical, sociological and psychological.

Read More

This was posted 4 weeks ago. It has 504 notes.
I’ve had an ache in my jaw
for the past week.
They say it’s from grinding
and clenching my teeth in my sleep.
They chalked it up to stress.

The world
is one mean son of a bitch
when it’s breaking your jaw
without ever throwing a punch.
Dan Baucom - Fistless fight (via smartyrpoetry)

(via mangled-passion)

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 406 notes.
mistyzeo:

azurelunatic:

virtualclutter:


Hair washing and care in the 19th century


Hair washing is something that almost every historical writer, romance or not, gets wrong. How many times have you read a story in which a heroine sinks gratefully into a sudsy tub of water and scrubs her hair–or, even worse, piles it up on her head to wash it? Or have you watched the BBC’s Manor House and other “historical reenactment” series, in which modern people invariably destroy their hair by washing using historical recipes?

Historical women kept their hair clean, but that doesn’t mean their hair was often directly washed. Those who had incredibly difficult to manage hair might employ a hairdresser to help them wash, cut, and singe (yes, singe!) their hair as often as once a month, but for most women, hair-washing was, at most, a seasonal activity.
“Why?” you might ask. “Wasn’t their hair lank, smelly, and nasty?”
And the writers who embrace ignorance as a badge of honor will say, “Well, that just goes to show that people used to be gross and dirty, and that’s why I never bother with that historical accuracy stuff!”
And then I have to restrain myself from hitting them…
The reason that hair was rarely washed has to do with the nature of soaps versus modern shampoos. Soaps are made from a lye base and are alkaline. Hair and shampoo are acidic. Washing hair in soap makes it very dry, brittle, and tangly. Men’s hair was shirt enough and cut often enough that using soap didn’t harm it too much and the natural oils from the scalp could re-moisturize it fairly easily after even the harshest treatment, but in an age when the average woman’s hair was down to her waist, soap could literally destroy a woman’s head of hair in fairly short order.
Instead, indirect methods of hair-cleaning were used. Women washed their hair brushes daily, and the proverbial “100 strokes” were used to spread conditioning oils from roots to tips and to remove older or excess oil and dirt. This was more time-consuming than modern washing, and this is one of the reasons that “good hair” was a class marker. The fact that only women of the upper classes could afford all the various rats, rolls, and other fake additions to bulk out their real hair was another. (An average Victorian woman of the upper middle or upper class had more apparent “hair” in her hairstyle than women I know whose unbound hair falls well below their knees.) Women rarely wore their hair lose unless it was in the process of being put up or taken down–or unless they were having a picture specifically taken of it! At night, most women braided their hair for bed. Now that my hair is well below my waist, I understand why!
The first modern shampoo was introduced in the late 1920s. Shampoos clean hair quickly and also remove modern styling products, like hairspray and gel, but the frequent hair-washing that has become common leaves longer hair brittle even with the best modern formulations. (From the 1940s to the 1960s, many if not most middle-class women had their hair washed only once a week, at their hairdresser’s, where it was restyled for the next week. The professional hairdresser stepped into the void that the maid left when domestic service became rare. Washing one’s hair daily or every other day is a very recent development.) That’s where conditioners came into play. Many people have wondered how on earth women could have nice hair by modern standards before conditioners, but conditioners are made necessary by shampoos. Well-maintained hair of the 19th century didn’t need conditioners because the oils weren’t regularly stripped from it.
Additionally, the oils made hair much more manageable than most people’s is today, which made it possible for women to obtain elaborate hairstyles using combs and pins–without modern clips or sprays–to keep their hair in place. This is why hair dressers still like to work with “day-old” hair when making elaborate hairstyles.
There were hair products like oils for women to add shine and powders meant to help brush dirt out of hair, but they weren’t in very wide use at the time. Hair “tonics”–mean to be put on the hair or taken orally to make hair shinier, thicker, or stronger–were ineffective but were readily available and widely marketed.
If you have a heroine go through something particularly nasty–such as a fall into a pond or the like–then she should wash her hair, by all means. This would be done in a tub prepared for the purpose–not in the bath–and would involve dissolving soap shavings into a water and combine them with whatever other products were desired. Then a maid would wash the woman’s hair as she leaned either forward or backward to thoroughly wet and wash her hair. Rinsing would be another stage. The hair would NEVER be piled on the head. If you have greater than waist-length hair and have ever tried to wash it in a modern-sized bathtub, you understand why no one attempted to wash her hair in a hip bath or an old, short claw foot tub! It would be almost impossible.
A quick rundown of other hair facts:
Hydrogen peroxide was used to bleach hair from 1867. Before that, trying to bleach it with soda ash and sunlight was the most a girl could do. Henna was extremely popular from the 1870s through the 1890s, especially for covering gray hair, to such an extent that gray hair became almost unseen in certain circles in England in this time. Red hair was considered ugly up until the 1860s, when the public embracing of the feminine images as presented by the aesthetic movement (Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood) gained ground, culminating in a positive rage for red hair in the 1870s to 1880s. Some truly scary metallic salt compounds were used to color hair with henna formulations by the late 19th century, often with unfortunate results.
Hair curling was popular in the 19th century and could either by achieved with rag rolls or hot tongs. Loose “sausage” rolls were the result of rag rolling. Hot tongs were used for making the “frizzled” bangs of the 1970s to 1880s–and “frizzled” they certainly were. The damage caused by the poor control of heating a curler over a gas jet or candle flame was substantial, and most women suffered burnt hair at one time or another. For this reason, a number of women chose to eschew the popular style and preserve their hair from such dangers! Permanents were first in use in the 1930s.  
(From: http://www.lydiajoyce.com/blog/?p=1022)




Anne Shirley probably used indigo on her red red hair. Indigo will turn brown hair a lovely blue-black. Blue and orange? A most appalling green.

Super cool. I don’t wash my hair (rinsing mostly when actually dirty/sweaty, never shampoo), and I’m thinking it might not be terrible to grow it long again.

mistyzeo:

azurelunatic:

virtualclutter:

Hair washing is something that almost every historical writer, romance or not, gets wrong. How many times have you read a story in which a heroine sinks gratefully into a sudsy tub of water and scrubs her hair–or, even worse, piles it up on her head to wash it? Or have you watched the BBC’s Manor House and other “historical reenactment” series, in which modern people invariably destroy their hair by washing using historical recipes?

Historical women kept their hair clean, but that doesn’t mean their hair was often directly washed. Those who had incredibly difficult to manage hair might employ a hairdresser to help them wash, cut, and singe (yes, singe!) their hair as often as once a month, but for most women, hair-washing was, at most, a seasonal activity.

“Why?” you might ask. “Wasn’t their hair lank, smelly, and nasty?”

And the writers who embrace ignorance as a badge of honor will say, “Well, that just goes to show that people used to be gross and dirty, and that’s why I never bother with that historical accuracy stuff!”

And then I have to restrain myself from hitting them…

The reason that hair was rarely washed has to do with the nature of soaps versus modern shampoos. Soaps are made from a lye base and are alkaline. Hair and shampoo are acidic. Washing hair in soap makes it very dry, brittle, and tangly. Men’s hair was shirt enough and cut often enough that using soap didn’t harm it too much and the natural oils from the scalp could re-moisturize it fairly easily after even the harshest treatment, but in an age when the average woman’s hair was down to her waist, soap could literally destroy a woman’s head of hair in fairly short order.

Instead, indirect methods of hair-cleaning were used. Women washed their hair brushes daily, and the proverbial “100 strokes” were used to spread conditioning oils from roots to tips and to remove older or excess oil and dirt. This was more time-consuming than modern washing, and this is one of the reasons that “good hair” was a class marker. The fact that only women of the upper classes could afford all the various rats, rolls, and other fake additions to bulk out their real hair was another. (An average Victorian woman of the upper middle or upper class had more apparent “hair” in her hairstyle than women I know whose unbound hair falls well below their knees.) Women rarely wore their hair lose unless it was in the process of being put up or taken down–or unless they were having a picture specifically taken of it! At night, most women braided their hair for bed. Now that my hair is well below my waist, I understand why!

The first modern shampoo was introduced in the late 1920s. Shampoos clean hair quickly and also remove modern styling products, like hairspray and gel, but the frequent hair-washing that has become common leaves longer hair brittle even with the best modern formulations. (From the 1940s to the 1960s, many if not most middle-class women had their hair washed only once a week, at their hairdresser’s, where it was restyled for the next week. The professional hairdresser stepped into the void that the maid left when domestic service became rare. Washing one’s hair daily or every other day is a very recent development.) That’s where conditioners came into play. Many people have wondered how on earth women could have nice hair by modern standards before conditioners, but conditioners are made necessary by shampoos. Well-maintained hair of the 19th century didn’t need conditioners because the oils weren’t regularly stripped from it.

Additionally, the oils made hair much more manageable than most people’s is today, which made it possible for women to obtain elaborate hairstyles using combs and pins–without modern clips or sprays–to keep their hair in place. This is why hair dressers still like to work with “day-old” hair when making elaborate hairstyles.

There were hair products like oils for women to add shine and powders meant to help brush dirt out of hair, but they weren’t in very wide use at the time. Hair “tonics”–mean to be put on the hair or taken orally to make hair shinier, thicker, or stronger–were ineffective but were readily available and widely marketed.

If you have a heroine go through something particularly nasty–such as a fall into a pond or the like–then she should wash her hair, by all means. This would be done in a tub prepared for the purpose–not in the bath–and would involve dissolving soap shavings into a water and combine them with whatever other products were desired. Then a maid would wash the woman’s hair as she leaned either forward or backward to thoroughly wet and wash her hair. Rinsing would be another stage. The hair would NEVER be piled on the head. If you have greater than waist-length hair and have ever tried to wash it in a modern-sized bathtub, you understand why no one attempted to wash her hair in a hip bath or an old, short claw foot tub! It would be almost impossible.

A quick rundown of other hair facts:

Hydrogen peroxide was used to bleach hair from 1867. Before that, trying to bleach it with soda ash and sunlight was the most a girl could do. Henna was extremely popular from the 1870s through the 1890s, especially for covering gray hair, to such an extent that gray hair became almost unseen in certain circles in England in this time. Red hair was considered ugly up until the 1860s, when the public embracing of the feminine images as presented by the aesthetic movement (Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood) gained ground, culminating in a positive rage for red hair in the 1870s to 1880s. Some truly scary metallic salt compounds were used to color hair with henna formulations by the late 19th century, often with unfortunate results.

Hair curling was popular in the 19th century and could either by achieved with rag rolls or hot tongs. Loose “sausage” rolls were the result of rag rolling. Hot tongs were used for making the “frizzled” bangs of the 1970s to 1880s–and “frizzled” they certainly were. The damage caused by the poor control of heating a curler over a gas jet or candle flame was substantial, and most women suffered burnt hair at one time or another. For this reason, a number of women chose to eschew the popular style and preserve their hair from such dangers! Permanents were first in use in the 1930s.  

(From: http://www.lydiajoyce.com/blog/?p=1022)

Anne Shirley probably used indigo on her red red hair. Indigo will turn brown hair a lovely blue-black. Blue and orange? A most appalling green.

Super cool. I don’t wash my hair (rinsing mostly when actually dirty/sweaty, never shampoo), and I’m thinking it might not be terrible to grow it long again.

(via blimpkitty)

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 18,951 notes. .

letter to the editor

The way you hold that flute of champagne is absolutely stunning. It flawlessly complements the graceful, sloping lines of your fingers, which holds it so much like an instrumentalist would hold their oldest and finest companion, that at any moment I very nearly expect you to raise it to your lips, and the twinkling introduction of a concerto will come ringing from its end.

You are like this in all things, in all manners; that grace with which you hold that glass is the epitome of every moment, every word issuing forth from your prodigal person, and I had fancied myself, for quite some time, the only person to ever have understood you. And I took great pleasure in this idea, and thought of myself as the lone member to a secret society whose cause and purpose was the most noble one could imagine—and that was truth, the latter part. Knowing you was a coveted privilege within our hallowed circle—you were our celestial pole upon which our entire world rotated and existed, and we were quickly growing dizzy and nauseous, but of course one never notices these things until one has stopped spinning. I would have went on my whole life spinning endlessly, fruitlessly, no external force applied to my infinite motion, had you not been snatched so swiftly. We have been terribly upset, the balance destroyed now that our axis has been pulled right out from within us, and we shall never be quite whole again, I should think.

But another part of me suggests that this was all in the stars, writ like the myths we studied to diligently on those lamp-lit nights of devouring all the depraved, lavish articulations we dared to seize, all the banned tomes we imbibed as rapidly as the liquor that you smuggled from the kitchens. You didn’t believe in fate, in any higher power, but sometimes I think the universe is never satisfied with completion—that chains are meant to be broken and there is no use in reparations when the dreamscape demands the fragments of existence, and nothing more.

You always seemed temporary anyway, like the smoke that wound, serpentine, from the cigarette perched between your decadent lips—those lips were made for chocolate, fine wine, and kisses—and I was always somewhat afraid of a time when you’d become bored with every one of us and deprive us of our center prematurely. And the fear was, I imagine, doubly acute for me as it was for our compatriots, because I was plain in all the ways that you were opulent, and you shimmered like dewy candle light on the jewels of affable ladies, while I was the remnants of last week’s newspaper, relevant and innovative sometime ago, but not a moment longer.

You terrified me, to say the least, in the way that utter flawlessness in any aspect of life is unsettling, and I will always be grateful, in some way, that you saw fit to shatter our before-then perpetual propensity for perfection, because last night I had slept until dusk until dawn—a feat I have not accomplished since before I caught sight of you across the quad, the incandescent counterpart to my yet unimagined design.

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 0 notes.