One of the best writing advice I have gotten in all the months I have been writing is "if you can't go anywhere from a sentence, the problem isn't in you, it's in the last sentence." and I'm mad because it works so well and barely anyone talks about it. If you're stuck at a line, go back. Backspace those last two lines and write it from another angle or take it to some other route. You're stuck because you thought up to that exact sentence and nothing after that. Well, delete that sentence, make your brain think because the dead end is gone. It has worked wonders for me for so long it's unreal
reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point
I think I’m absolutely hilarious
reblog this to remind the person you reblogged it from that theyre loved
long nose trucks sexier than cabover trucks, who's with me
Single-dad Soundwave to his gremlin cassettes after they cause more chaos on the Decepticon base:
Ao3 does not need an algorithm, you're just lazy
Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE
Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted
Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative
Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying
no cruel jokes or pranks this April 1st we should instead celebrate the better April 1 holiday
Humans being the first. Not the strongest or the smartest or the weirdest or the most violent. Just the first.
We called out into the dark over and over. We sent out messages in hopes. We searched every planet we could reach, in hopes of any sign of life. Any at all.
We thought, hoped we were the last, because we couldn’t bear the idea of being the one ones this awake and alive in a world as vast as this.
And we died alone.
When the others are born, many many years later, they find us, everything we left for them.
They recover The Golden Record and look at it a million times over, they dig up our fossils and put us in museums, they study us for years and years, loving us as we love our ancestors’ painted hands on cave walls.
In a lot of their languages, the word they use for us has the same root for “mother”.