I keep trying to get my friends to read my story. Some of them have but some outright refuse. Because every time I describe it they just look at me with a disturbed look due to how ludacris it sounds.
So tired that I became socially awkward again and when I was told "thank you" I tried to say it back but instead said "fuck you." Thank God that my mask muffled enough that I was able to correct myself without them noticing.
Chemistry is a lot like baking. As long as you have the equipment, ingredients, and a proper recipe you can make whatever you want. Which is why I now have a gallon of freshly processed LSD in my fridge.
Every author has an OC that can be referred to as their accidental self insert. None of you who write can claim to not having one. It never happens on purpose but it will always happen.
My friend, the one who owns my thigh, told me that I can only have a character in my stories kick a Pope stand-in down a flight of stairs so many times before people start to notice how much a dislike the Catholic Church. What's the limit?
What I find hilarious about humans is that someone could find the meaning of life, share it, and then be hated for it as they don't like the answer they got. This means that someone could have found the meaning of life and shared it but was rejected so much that they stopped sharing it.
The cool thing about being overly empathetic is that you can easily imagine what it's like to feel something. Want to know what it feels like to be stabbed, burnt, emotionally damaged, or tortured? The bad thing about being overly empathetic is that you always feel some level of pain that another is currently feeling.
I'm gonna say it! Smut writers are just sad that they can't get it in real life so they self insert how they see themselves as someone getting it. Then they ride on their success produced by half the world being horny.
I never know how to react when a reader sends me nsfw art they drew of one of my characters? Do I feel honored, concerned, horny, what? It's happened twice now.