Mariethecakegal - Bingo-Bango!

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

Watched Thunderbolts* and then drew more Magus/Adam Warlock

you should draw yourself with big boobs

#meirl

🌊Woman & Sealskin🌊

modern au drabble/oneshot

Her foot fell heavy on the brake, but it wasn't enough time to stop her car from hitting the pole. Her head flew forwards (thank the GODS she was wearing a seatbelt) and then crashed against the headrest.

She had an immediate migraine.

She told herself it was just a reaction to the pain in her head when her eyes began to water.

Still, she squeezed them shut.

She was rudely awoken from her micro-nap by the loud ringing of her phone (she needed it that loud, because when she was in the workshop, NOTHING could make her stop. Except maybe "Take You To Rio" blasting at full volume through the phone speaker).

Moana's name flashed across the screen, a picture of her smiling in the sun with a silly flower crown in the background.

Loto almost didn't answer.

But she did.

"Hey, Mo."

"Loto! I'm…kind of surprised you picked up. So listen, I was thinking, for our Halloween costumes, we could do Dracula and….Loto?"

"Dracula and me?"

"No, I just. You're oddly nonhyperverbal. It's strange. Are you okay? Where are you?"

It was at that moment that Loto wished she could lie.

"On the corner of Mayoral Drive and Wellesley Street. Near the post office."

"Are you…mailing something?"

"No. I…hit a pole. With my car," she added for clarification, because there were other possibilities.

There was a pause, for about three seconds. Then,

"Loto! What do you mean you crashed into a pole? Why didn't you call me?"

"You called me," Loto pointed out.

"Right, but why didn't you call me immediately? Is it bad? Do you need a ride? Are you being lifted to the hospital?"

"No, Moana. It's fine."

"I'm coming. GPS says it'll be fifteen minutes. I can do it in ten."

"Mo-"

"Nope. No arguments. Sit tight."

Loto thought Moana had hung up, until the loud car engine starting that came from the phone was joined by a question.

"Which pillow pet is your favorite?"

"Pillow pet?"

"For comfort. I'm going with the penguin if you don't answer in five…four…three..two..one! Penguin it is. Okay, bye."

Then Moana hung up.

Loto rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Why was love so complicated?

It seemed like LESS than ten minutes by the time a honk sounded from behind Loto’s car. She blinked blearily, glanced in the rearview, and saw Moana's sticker-covered hand-me-down Volkswagen Beetle.

Then, seconds later, Moana opened the passenger door, pillow pet in one hand and hot chocolate in the other (she had stopped for hot chocolate??) and got in.

She looked at Loto, then looked away, tapping her fingers on the cup. "Hi."

Loto swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes staring out the windshield and into the stormy distance. "Sorry," she blurted out. "For this. For making you stop whatever you were doing to come here."

Moana put the coffee cup on the dash, where it sat precariously close to the edge. Then she reached over, without a word, and pulled Loto into a hug.

"I crashed my car into a tree once," Moana whispered, as if those were deep, comforting words. "There was a bird in the middle of the road, and I swerved so I wouldn't hit it, and I hit the tree instead."

"At least the tree didn't sue for damage," Loto said, voice muffled against Moana’s hoodie.

"No, but the owner of the house tried to. That was how I met my friend Maui."

"Maui sued you?"

"No, Kele sued me. Maui was the lawyer who won the case for me."

Loto chuckled, nuzzling closer to Moana. "You're a wee bit silly, ay Mo?"

"I'll do anything to see you smile again."

Loto blushed.

"Okay, get back to your car," she said jokingly.

But she stayed in Moana's arms.

And Moana didn't move a muscle.

The neurodivergent urge to do this

spin this wheel

you're now this mythical creature, congrats!

An awesome way to motivate yourself to write: leave an open bag of chocolate next to your computer or notebook, and go head and reward yourself for each paragraph (or sentence; either one works!) you write with a piece of chocolate

Cats getting caught doing crimes

Writing love stories like how I used to play with Barbies: Insane lore, the craziest breakups, smashing the characters faces together to make out. It’s the best honestly.