mariethecakegal

Latest Posts by mariethecakegal

random book idea

• Esmeralda is a stunning golden-era showwoman and singer. She's all short pixie cuts gelled and glittered with glam, calf-exposing glittery dresses with a slit halfway down the skirt, and black heels. In the early 1960s, she's untouchable.

• Francisco is a top-notch criminal who steals from the rich and gives to the poor. He's quick, witty, light on his feet, and always red-handed but always wearing gloves. 

• Esmeralda’s been divorced from Francisco for twelve years, ever since her second child Ava was born….if ‘born’ is the right way to put it. They had drifted apart; Esmeralda chasing success and Francisco being drafted into the war between the so-called heroes, magical humans with a somewhat toxic humanitarian facade- and the wearh, blood-sucking villains who rule the lands underground. 

• In Francisco’s absence, Esmeralda made a deal with William, a wearh with whom she has a bit of a history, to transform her pet bird into a living child- she just wanted to feel as though she had a purpose again- especially after the authorities had sent her son Arlo off to his designated “training center,” a school designed to harness children's powers and prepare them to become successful heroes as they reach adulthood. 

• Esmeralda just didn't understand why they had to take him at two.

• Arlo is an independent, solitary, shy kid. He grows up in books and maps and rules, always following, always on the sidelines. He wants nothing more than to break free. 

• Ava is different. Esmeralda’s hidden charm, she learns at one and a half to hide in the garage whenever any car pulls up in the driveway, and to only go to the market early in the morning, before the shops officially open. She's brilliant, social, energetic, loves inventing and designing anything and everything she can get her hands on. With a creative, fast-moving mind, she loves exploring and yearns to see the world and meet everybody who lives in it. 

• Ava meets Arlo, once a summer, only for a month. September is the hottest month of the year, but the two children always run around outside from before the sun peeks above the horizon, to long after dusk when the tiny “glowbugs” create a spectacle of sunny spots through the forest behind the house.

• Those were the good days. But then one night- in December- Ava hears a knock on her window. She almost doesn't recognize the boy hanging by two paralyzed hands on her windowsill. Arlo hadn't visited the previous year, claiming he'd been too busy in a rushed, chicken-scratched letter. He had been thirteen at the time; now he was fourteen. Considering the fact that she hadn't seen him since he was twelve, her age at the present, she had been expecting a very different boy. A boy with untied shoelaces and a missing molar or two, not a tall and lanky kid with a deep voice and long bangs that hid his eyes. 

• He says he doesn't have much time. Much time before they catch him, the people who had taken his dad and forced him to kill- or worse, the people who were trying to kill his dad. He says he wants to run away, and he has been collecting for years and now possesses every map that's ever been reprinted or even sketched once. 

• With Ava hungry for adventure and Arlo desperate for escape, they formulate a plan beneath spilled candlewax and messy scribbles of possible paths on worn-out maps. And thus, their adventure ensues.

A chimera occurs when genetically distinct tissues co-exist within the same plant. The mutant plants exhibit different sections of color on a flower. In some cases, the color presented is a reversion to the flower’s ancestral form.

i know every bug. btw

Writing is so much easier when you actually write

i drew a horse from memory one like and i will reveal my beautiful boy to the world

I was kinda upset earlier that most of my stories I have in my drafts don't have any kind of meaning or overall message, then I had to remind myself that I do this for fun and for me. This is my free time that I use to merge words together into worlds

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

you should draw yourself with big boobs

@ellipsis-dotdotdot

#divorcearcdivorcearc

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.

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.

If you’re talking to someone and they say something like, “I’m not a writer or anything but I’ll do some poetry here and there,” grab them and shake them and say “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THAT’S WRITING YOU ARE A WRITER”

So my sister is on vacation and has sent me a photo of the store she was buying clothes in.

I'm going to lose it.

Each and every character you create will be the favourite of at least one reader. As the writer, try to find out why that might be

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.

correction: something I'd LOVE

i love when characters lie to themselves in the complete privacy of their own minds

a whole foods of pearl & overcast

Bank of Sapphire Cold?

medieval knight raising the visor on his helm just so you can see him rolling his eyes

do you ever think about how if you dive into the ocean and go deeper and deeper you will pass through layers of darker and darker blue until everything is black and cold and the pressure will be so intense that it will kill you without protection but if you keep going you will find little glowing specks of light, and if you go up into the sky and go higher and higher you will pass through layers of darker and darker blue until everything is black and cold and the pressure will be so intense that it will kill you without protection but if you keep going you will find little glowing specks of light

some crazy good fanfic in my google docs. whatever guy started writing it i hope he finishes it

i gotta remember this

i just beefed with someone online and I got tired of it so I said "I ate some really good blueberries today" and they replied "I had a fire ass peach today". world peace

Moana 2 is on Disney+ so here's some Moana 1

You were bitten by a vampire but you didn't die, instead the vampire died. The next day, you're captured by vampires and marked as unsafe for consumption. All because you had a rare, incurable condition in your blood. Cool, now you are a vampire slayer who kills vamps by letting 'em bite you.

saw this today

Doomscrolling Save Point

hey relax for a second and watch the cat

being a writer is constantly google the definitions of words you already know the meanings of because your brain's always paranoid and telling you maybe you've been using them wrong your entire life

I can excuse misusing words in my daily life but my mlm slow-burn enemies to lovers smut has to be perfect