#(or rather reads old writing)

[mythalism]

writing poorly, cringe-ly, messily, embarrassingly, like a 13 year old, incorrectly, and riddled with grammar mistakes but authentically and with genuine humanity is always going to be infinitely more valuable than even the most technically "perfect" genAI output. hope this helps

[a-candle-maker]

not tagging the person bcs i don't want to call anyone out but like,,,, saw this one girl and her post formatting made it even look like a chatgpt generated thing... checked her other stuff to see and they all had that one formatting... thought i'd tell her and like. babe. you turning off asks just about confirms it for me, i mean imma just guess that you noticed lots of asks telling you the same and decided we're sooooooooo mean!! and ignored it

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[prolibytherium]

I see people complain that their immersion is broken when a book set in a historical period uses general contemporary slang/swear words/informal terms ('lads', 'guys', etc) etc and it's just like. You do realize that every language in every era was 'modern' to its users and had at least some vulgarity and slang right? Writing in vaguely 'old timey' speech solely on the basis that it took place a long time ago does not add any realism and if anything kind of detracts from it imo.

Like if you're writing a story in english + in a way that's legible to contemporary english language readers that takes place any time/anywhere that people did not speak contemporary english, you're already 'translating'. I feel like this 'translation' is made more complete by including at least Some vulgarity, informal speech, etc where the core underlying concepts and uses of these words are applicable to the setting. It makes the characters more human, not distanced from the reader by artificially antiquating them with a language that is exclusively hyper-formal and neutered in scope.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

…ngl the Ilana & Rick dynamic was more interesting before they fucked

[werewolfetone]

im interested in your opinions on salley rooney!

I mean I'll preface this with saying that there are authors I think are far worse and that even within irish lit there's quite a few people I think she absolutely wipes the floor with but I just think that a lot of her work is overhyped for what it is. there's a whole sort of pretentiousness for people who don't actually read much of the sort of literature rooney's writing in the tradition of (esp within irish literature... sooo many things hailed as unique about her work are not uncommon within irish lit and while she doesn't do them badly others have done them better. read hidden symptoms) that people always seem to have about her work that irritates me because ummm if u want to just read rooney that's great but there are better books out there and you can't pretend like she's just pulled all this stuff from thin air NOR that she's the best at it. additionally, and this is not her fault at all tbf but anyway, the way she's hailed as the voice of a generation pisses me off... upper class woman who studied at trinity and only writes about well off people who also go to trinity does not actually constitute representation of the entire population of ireland nor even the youngest part of it; again it's fine for what it is but never once have I seen anything resembling my irish family in her work. AND perhaps most damningly I actually really respect her as a person and how she uses her platform to generally promote politics I agree with and therefore it's insult to injury that her books are simply not the best 🙄

[fictionadventurer]

The only types of stories capturing my interest right now

YA fiction (with a weird interest in shlocky dystopian fiction)

Rereads

My retellings

Imaginary Book Recs and stories I haven't written yet

[cryptidcorners]

do you guys think he'd be super awkward at parties or is it just me? this loser probably only arrives for the food unless his bestie is there, lmfao.

[shi0n]

i think the ending of no.6 is thematically perfect. the 9th novel did have pacing issues (something asano atsuko herself has admitted) but no.6 beyond was amazing and a great final touch to the series so i've nvr really felt like we needed any more books.. HOWEVER I trust asano as an author. there must be something she wants to convey no matter what, something with meaning and something that is meant to be there. I feel like she wouldnt write about the two if there wasnt deep intent and thought behind it.

[dennisboobs]

do you guys ever sit and remember that dennis takes a mental health day is an episode that exists

[darcyolsson]

reading older books is so crazy bc it shows how many things we consider almost unbreakable rules of writing have been invented like maybe 40 years ago at most. i feel like compared to other modern art forms writing comes with a lot more rules to adhere to if you want your story to be "good" and i guess this just really emphasises to me that this, too, is just a moment in art history

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

it's weird how "things i care about" and "things i blog about" are overlapping but very distinct circles. like yeah i care obsessively about the ulster cycle and also blog about it constantly but there are so many things in my life that i care about that i just..... don't post about. so many books i enjoy that i have nothing to say other than maybe sometimes reblogging a post about them when it comes my way. so many things that i'm secretly feral about but do it all inside my own head

[timeflieslikeabanana]

Eulogy of a Laptop

The career of my laptop has been a long one.

Through thick and thin,

From two week minecraft binges to elden ring playthroughs,

Extremely modded lethal company and hundreds of hours of Baldur's Gate (which i still haven't finished),

It has done its best.

It did its best for years, and through replacements of parts and a RAM upgrade.

But every hero must fall, for nothing is permanent, and entropy shall have its way.

Oh beloved laptop, bearer of memories, you have passed away in a most grievous fashion:

The fabled bluescreen.

Every time I boot you.

Though I fought for weeks, scouring the depths of Reddit for a solution,

Your bios utility held no prize,

And your safe mode no solution.

As a last resort, a reset. To no avail.

Your time has come, to pass on from this mortal coil,

But your legacy shall be that of memories shared with friends and of slaving over homework.

Of creation of art, music, and games and videos,

And of hours spent writing dumb things on the internet.

Farewell.

[syrinq]

the only bonus of not updating oc bios/references/code/designs/etc. for years is that the change & improvement is more apparent

[marblebees]

I kinda want to get back to playing tabletop rpgs, but i feel like giving up a whole slot of my week to do so just sounds. Exhausting. I think text based rp might be more useful to me but i kind of shudder to think of diving back into a roleplay group on tumblr Today

[5targrrl]

𓈒 ˙ 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐒 / horror, sci-fi, thriller. a camp nano project.

BREAKING NEWS! SENATOR'S SON ARRESTED FOR MURDER! Police chief Simon Brozik reports that Dorian Starosta, son of Senator Ludvik Starosta, is indisputably to blame for the mysterious death that befell the Senator's late wife, Thea Starosta. Dorian suspected to be involved in a cover-up operation alongside three others whom are rumored to be childhood acquaintances of the Starosta family. "I always suspected something to be off about him," Chief Brozik says. "I am disgusted to have discovered that my suspicions were true."

⸺⠀THE HEADLINES.

TITLE:   We Were Lambs. GENRE :   Adult Horror Sci-fi Thriller. STATUS:   Plotting &&. Outlining. SETTING:   Set in a futuristic country based off of the Czech Republic. THEMES &&. TROPES:   Lgbt+ cast, Religious trauma and guilt, Unresolved grieving, Unreliable narrator, Found family, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Utopian world with Dystopian undertones. CONTENT WARNINGS:   Substance abuse, Graphic depictions of murder and torture, Abuse, Gore, Mentions of disordered eating. LINKS:   Wip Tag, Pinterest.

⸺⠀THE GOSSIP.

WHEN DORIAN STAROSTA is arrested alongside three of his old childhood bestfriends for the murder of his mother, Dorian's world begins to crumble all around him. Sentenced to life in prison, the four are given the opportunity to participate in a psychiatric rehabilitation program in the form of a virtual-reality game. If won, their criminal records will be wiped, garnering them the opportunity to return to society as changed upstanding-citizens. But if they lose? They are promised a slow, tortuous death. With nothing left to lose and a whole lot to prove, they begrudgingly accept. Signing their lives away to be confined in a virtual hellscape. Because Dorian Starosta is many things but he knows a murderer is not one of them, and he'll be damned if he is not able to prove that.

⸺⠀THE SUSPECTS.

DORIAN STAROSTA - A grieving classical pianist living under the shadow of his father with no recollection of the timeline before and after the death of his mother.

SALMA SAHAR - The cold-hearted assistant of a famous fashion designer. With the rumors surrounding her whispering that her positions opening wasn't all that accidental, people aren't all surprised when the verdict in the Starosta case is guilty.

VERGIL LIANG - An Oxford academic with a silver tongue and sharp mind. He fled to England alongside his brother weeks after Thea died, the only time he decides to speak is to ask how his brother is.

WINSLOW PAVLOVICH - More a ghost than a man. Sheathed in mystery the path he followed after the death of Thea is unknown, though, the numerous scars that have showed up on his skin since the four last met is one of the only hints he wordlessly gives away.

⸺⠀TAGLIST.

Tagging a few people who showed interest in this wip, Reblog / Send an Ask to be +/-. I am working on this for camp so y'all should totes add me on nano! Thank you for reading babes!! @sourrcandy , @kingsinking , @ls-daydreams