#actually go read about how this works and ways that artists and writers use it sparingly in their processes just like other tools

[professorspork]

idk how to word this properly but wrt the fanfic thing you reblogged earlier. Why do fanfic writers have such different expectations than any other content hosting platform?

Like lets take youtube as a point of comparison, Engagement like comments and likes largely exists to boost the works place in algorithm, thats why youtubers put in calls to action and other engament bait. Few with decent reach even read the comments and the audience shouldnt try to develop any weird parasocial relationship with the youtuber. Fanfic authors ask for likes (kudos, because the websites gotta use nonstandard language for some reason) and comments despite them not having any impact on an algorithm, and seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author based on tumblr posts like that one.

Why the radical difference in behaviour away from the norm? And honestly with all the (usually) metaphorical blood spilled online about parasociality why are authors really surprised that the audience tries to keep their distance as is best practice with any other content producer?

okay I am going to answer this as kindly and as calmly as I can and try to assume that you are asking this in good faith. because my friend, the fact that you feel the need to ask is, to me, The Problem.

[this is, for the record, in response to this post]

fanfiction writers are not *posting content.* (I also have reservations about engaging with the term "content producer" or "content creator" but let's put that aside for now, I'll circle back to it.) you say "they seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author" as though it is strange, off-putting, and incomprehensible to you, when in fact that is the point of writing fanfiction. it is a way of participating in fandom. it is a way of building community and exchanging ideas and becoming closer with people.

if authors wanted to solely ~generate content~ that would get them attention (?? to what end, the dynamic you have described seems to equate algorithmic supremacy as winning for winning's sake, as though all anyone wants to do is BUILD an audience without ENGAGING with them, which I cannot fathom but let's pretend for a moment that is, in fact, true) then like. if that were the case why on earth would they choose a medium in which they categorically cannot succeed and profit, because it isn't their IP?

you are equating two things that are not at all the same thing. to the degree that parasocial relationships are to be avoided, and "that person is not trying to be your friend they are trying to entertain you, please respect their boundaries" is a real dynamic -- which it is!! -- like. you have to understand that the reason that is true for the people of whom it is true is because it is their JOB. they are storytellers by profession, and they are either through direct payment, or sponsorship, or advertising, or through some other means, profiting off of your attention. i don't say this to be dismissive, many wonderful artists and actors and comedians and any number of a thousand things that i enjoy very much go this route but they do so as a *career choice.* and so when you violate the public/private boundary with them, you are presuming to know a Person rather than their Worksona. the people who work at Dropout or who stream their actual play tabletop games or who broadcast on TikTok or YouTube are inviting me to feel like i know them to the degree to which that helps them succeed in their medium and at their craft, but there MUST be a mutual understanding that that's a feeling, not a fact.

however.

a fanfiction writer is not an influencer, not a professional, and is not looking to garner "success." there is no share of audience we are trying to gain for gain's sake, because we are not competition with one another, because there is nothing to win other than the pleasure of each other's company. we are doing this for no other reason than the love of the game; because we have things we want desperately to say about these worlds, these characters, these dynamics, and because we *want more than anything to know we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings.* fanfiction is a bid for interaction, engagement, attention, and consideration. it is not meant to be consumed and then moved on from because we are NOT paid for our work, nor do we want to be. the reward we seek is "attention," but attention as in CONVERSATION, not attention as in clicks. we are not IN this for profit, or for number-go-up. there is no such thing: legally there cannot be. we are in this because we want to be seen and known.

like. please understand. i am now married to someone i met because of mutual comments on fanfiction. our close friend and roommate, with whom i have cohabitated for over a decade now, is someone I met because of mutual comments on fanfiction and livejournal posts. that is my household. beyond my household, the vast majority of my closest personal friends are people with whom I built relationships in this way.

you ask why fanfiction writers want THIS and not "the norm," but the idea of everything being built to cater to an algorithm to continue to build clout, as though the only method of reaching people is Distant Overlord Creator and Passive Receptive Audience being "the norm" is EXTREMELY NEW. this is not how it has always been!! please think of the writers of zines in a pre-internet fandom, using paper and glue and xerox to try and meet like-minded people in a world that was designed for you to only ever meet people in person, by happenstance, in your own hometown. imagine the writers of the early internet, building webrings from scratch to CREATE a community to find each other, despite distance. imagine livejournal groups, forums, and -- yes, indeed, of course -- comment threads IN STORIES -- as places where people go to *converse.* in the past, we had an entire Type Of Guy that everyone knew about, the BNF ("Big Name Fan") whose existence had to be described via meme because it was SO DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM. treating fellow fans like celebrities or people too cool for the regular kids to know was an OUTLIER, and one commonly understood to lead to toxicity.

in the past, I have likened writing fanfiction to echolocation. i am not screaming because I like hearing the sound of my own voice, though i can and do find my voice beautiful. i am screaming so that the vibrations can bounce back to me and show me the world. the purpose is in the feedback. otherwise it is just noise.

does this make any sense? can you see, when i describe it that way, why an ask like yours makes me feel despair, because it makes us all sound so horribly separate from one another?

perhaps I will try another metaphor:

a professional chef who runs a restaurant will not have her feelings hurt if you never fight your way into the kitchen to personally tell her how much you enjoyed the meal. that would, indeed, violate a boundary. professional kitchens are a place of work, and you have already showed her you enjoyed the meal by paying for it, or by perhaps spreading your enjoyment by word of mouth to your friends so they, too, can have good meals. you show your appreciation by continuing to come back. if a bunch of people sitting around randomly happen to have a conversation about how much they love the food, it wouldn't hurt that chef's feelings to not be included in the conversation. however: EVEN IN THIS INSTANCE, it is ADVISABLE AND APPROPRIATE to leave a good review! you might post about how much you like this restaurant on Yelp, and it would probably make the chef feel great to see those positive comments. but the chef doesn't NEED them, because the chef is, again, *also being paid to cook.* that's why she started the restaurant, to be paid to cook!

i am not being paid to cook.

i am at home in my own kitchen, making things for a community potluck where i hope everyone will bring something we can all enjoy together. some people at the potluck are better bakers, some better cooks; some can't cook at all but are great at logistics and make sure there's enough napkins for everyone; some people come just to enjoy the food, because that's what the party is for. and if I, as this enthusiast chef who made something from my heart for this reason alone, learned after the fact that a bunch of people got together in the parking lot to rave about my dish but no one of them had ever bothered to tell me while I sat alone at my table all night, occasionally seeing people come by to pick up a plate but never saying anything to me -- of course that would bother me, because I am not otherwise profiting off the labor I put in. this is not a bid to be paid, because if someone WERE to say "hey, great cake!! here's five bucks for a slice" i would say no, friend, that is not the point and give them the money back. i'm not trying to Get Mine. I am in it to see the look on your face. I'm in it so you can tell me what about it moved you, so that I can say back what moved me to make it in the first place. so we can TALK about it.

because what happened in the first place is this: one time I had a cake whose sweetness, richness, flavor, intensity, and composition moved me so much that I *taught myself to bake.* so I could see how much vanilla and sugar was too much, so I could learn how to make things rise instead of fall flat, so I could even better appreciate the original cake by seeing for myself the effort and talent and inspiration that goes into making one even half as good.

learning to do so is a satisfying accomplishment in and of itself, yes.

but I also did it because at the end of the day we should EAT the cake. and it's a lonely thing, to eat alone when a meal was always designed and intended to be shared.

so, to answer your last question: i'm not surprised, i'm just sad. because somehow two things that were never meant to be seen as the same have been labeled "content," and thus identical. and it diminishes both the things that ARE intended to be paid for AND the things that are not, because it removes any sense of intimacy or meaning from the work.

i hope you know i'm not mad at you for asking. but i'm frustrated we've come to live in a world where the question needs to be asked, because the answers are no longer intuitively obvious because we're so siloed.

[godtier]

it amuses me how ppl will make PSA posts about how such-and-such platform uses "AI" and tells you to be Very Angry about it via context clues, but then the same ppl will happily reblog AI "art", even when it's very easy to tell and/or it takes two seconds to look at the damn comments on a post to find that it's AI generated, or that the very OP of the post tagged it as AI art, or answered an ask like "yeah I use a generator for the pics," or puts "I use midjourney to make the pics" in their profile on mobile, etc etc etc

I guess it's easier to screech about how an option in a program that you can turn off/disable within seconds and that won't actually do anything more than what your autocorrect or grammarly or siri or alexa or google assistant or photoshop filters have already been doing with/harvesting from your data for years now (spoilers: you've been using and training "AI" algorithms for longer than chatGPT has been mainstream! yes, it's basically the same concept!) than it is to do a few seconds of reading or double-checking to ensure you're not reblogging art theft and tagging it as "photography" 🙃

[deerspherestudios]

Small Spoilers of Astronought!

Hey Cheea! I just played Astronought and I LOVED IT. I'm from Spain so when I read how Atom called us "Luna Nova" I basically combusted. AND THE LYRICS OF MOON WALTZ IN THE END? Beautiful. I love the way you write your Visual Novels too, they really inspire me to write more about my own stories, so thank you a lot!

Also, a tiny question, when beggining to work on your own Visual Novels, did you follow any kind of tutorial on the internet? If so, what did you do to begin learning how to... code, and everything? It seems so weird to me and I wanted to work on one myself!

Thank you lots and sorry if my english is a little off... still learning!

Ahh thank you so much!! It's always an honor to know I've inspired someone out there with my silly little games 😭! I hate to say that I didn't really follow tutorials when I started Mushroom Oasis, but there's plenty out there for you to get started!

Channels I'd always go back to and recommend are Zeil Learnings and Visual Novel Design. Perfect for beginners!

If you really wanna know my own personal anecdote as to how I started, I genuinely yappa yappa about it below:

I've mentioned before that when working on Lift Your Spirits back in 2022, I wasn't alone just yet. My roles were only as the writer and artist while two others worked on the coding as you can see in the credits!

For context, arrnubs is my alternate online moniker.

At some point during the project, the others got busy with assignments (while I was on semester break) and I got too impatient to wait for them to update the script and sounds in Ren'Py. I didn't wanna pester them so I got nosy and took a peek in the script.rpy file and added them in myself haha, so I got to see how they did the base coding, in a way.

From there I started working on Mushroom Oasis on my own a year or so later, referencing the LYS script.rpy more than a few times. I just started on a whim because the YanGameJam was happening around the time I had another semester break in 2023, and finished the first half of Day 1 in two weeks.

People liked it a lot, so I kept working on it!

That's why if you look in the code, it's actually very basic!! compared to how other devs code their games. It's just me looking at someone else's first attempt at Ren'Py and just assumed it's the only way to do it haha.

I'll probably want to re-work how I do my games in the future, but for now I'll keep to the same format.

If you really wanna see something positive from me yapping away about this, don't let inexperience and lack of skill stop you.

I absolutely winged it and here I am haha. As long as you have the passion to commit, it'll work out in the end, plus you keep picking up more Ren'Py tricks along the way!

[novella-november]

See, here's the thing about generative AI:

I will always, always prefer to read the beginner works of a young writer that could use some editing advice, over anything a predictive text generator can spit out no matter how high of a "quality" it spits out.

I will always be more interested in reading a fanfiction or original story written by a kid who doesn't know you're meant to separate different dialogues into their own paragraphs, over anything a generative ai creates.

I will happily read a story where dialogue isn't always capitalized and has some grammar mistakes that was written by a person over anything a computer compiles.

Why?

Because *why should I care about something someone didn't even care enough to write themselves?*

Humans have been storytellers since the dawn of humankind, and while it presents itself in different ways, almost everyone has stories they want to tell, and it takes effort and care and a desire to create to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard or speech to text to actually start writing that story out, let alone share it for others to read!

If a kid writes a story where all the dialogue is crammed in the same paragraph and missing some punctuation, it's because they're still learning the ropes and are eager to share their imagination with the world even if its not perfect.

If someone gets generative AI to make an entire novel for them, copying and pasting chunks of text into a document as it generates them, then markets that "novel" as being written by a real human person and recruits a bunch of people to leave fake good reviews on the work praising the quality of the book to trick real humans into thinking they're getting a legitimate novel.... Tell me, why on earth would anyone actually want to read that "novel" outside of morbid curiosity?

There's a few people you'll see in the anti-ai tags complaining about "people being dangerously close to saying art is a unique characteristic of the divine human soul" and like...

... Super dramatic wording there to make people sound ridiculous, but yeah, actually, people enjoy art made by humans because humans who make art are sharing their passion with others.

People enjoy art made by animals because it is fascinating and fun to find patterns in the paint left by paw prints or the movements of an elephants trunk.

Before Generative AI became the officially sanctioned "Plagiarism Machine for Billionaires to Avoid Paying Artists while Literally Stealing all those artists works" people enjoyed random computer-generated art because, like animals, it is fascinating and fun to see something so different and alien create something that we can find meaning in.

But now, when Generative AI spits out a work that at first appears to be a veritable masterpiece of art depicting a winged Valkyrie plunging from the skies with a spear held aloft, you know that anything you find beautiful or agreeable in this visual media has been copied from an actual human artist who did not consent or doesn't even know that their art has been fed into the Plagiarism Machine.

Now, when Generative AI spits out a written work featuring fandom-made tropes and concepts like Alpha Beta Omega dyanamics, you know that you favorite fanfiction website(s) have probably all been scraped and that the unpaid labours of passion by millions of people, including minors, have been scraped by the Plagiarism Machine and can now be used to make money for anyone with the time and patience to sit and have the Plagarism Machine generate stories a chunk at a time and then go on to sell those stories to anyone unfortunate enough to fall for the scam,

all while you have no way to remove your works from the existing training data and no way to stop any future works you post be put in, either.

Generative AI wouldn't be a problem if it was exclusively trained on Public Domain works for each country and if it was freely available to anyone in that country (since different countries have different copyright laws)

But its not.

Because Generative AI is made by billionaires who are going around saying "if you posted it on the Internet at any point, it is fair game for us to take and profit off," and anyone looking to make a quick buck can start churning out stolen slop and marketing it online on trusted retailers, including generating extremely dangerous books like foraging guides or how to combine cleaning chemicals for a spotless home, etc.

Generative AI is nothing but the works of actual humans stolen by giant corporations looking for profit, even works that the original creators can't even make money off of themselves, like fanfiction or fanart.

And I will always, always prefer to read "fanfiction written by a 13 year old" over "stolen and mashed together works from Predictive Text with a scifi name slapped on it", because at least the fanfiction by a kid actually has *passion and drive* behind its creation.

[kleptomaniakrow]

hi, i'm back on my brain rot bullshit! so you know what time it is... B^)

hear me out, (some) KorTac men (specifically König, Krueger and Nikto), dating an artist.

normally, i often see most drabbles and other thoughtfully crafted pieces delve down the writer route (go figure)! this prompt fucking possessed me whilst i was working on some art, so i'm imposing this idea into the ether for all of you to see!

kept it gender neutral! but there might be one femme-leaning pet-name + the use of "little one" for Nikto's bit! i am not a russian-speaking native so i hope the one i grabbed is gender neutral as well (feel free to correct me if it isn't)!

personally i'm run with his government first name being "Andre," this is not canon btw!

if they're a little ooc? uh... i'm still figuring out how to write these three idiots (affectionate)!

this barely proof read so if you see typos? uh... no you didn't.

enjoy these little pebbles of purely sickeningly sweet, silly fluff under the cut!🖤

♚ König. . .

✦ he would fucking love to see your drawings i will die on this fucking hill! this fact about you was one of the most exciting thing he ever learned about you! by god was this man like a child in a candy store witnessing all of your art pieces, new or old! ✦ this big, burly man gets so soft and proud seeing your sketches become finalized pieces. the art of creation is always such a wonderous marvel to behold in his opinion! seeing you tune out the rest of the world, when you fully submerge yourself into the motions is remarkable sight to behold. he's privileged that you let him be a witness to it! ✦ honestly, let's be real. he would take this chance to just stare at you (affectionately). because you're too deep in your own little world—likely with headphones on or music playing—perhaps even a podcast of choice! consuming your audio of choice as you pen your ideas to paper, be it on actual paper or on a more digital medium! ✦ if you ever, and i genuinely mean EVER, take the time to draw his portrait (with or without his face coverings)? just know this man would full-on bawl like a baby. pathetic snot dribbling from his nose, horrendously tearful but it's all for good reasons, please don't worry! ✦ "Mein schatz..." / "Do you like it?" / "I've no words that would do it justice... it's... incredible, maus." ✦ i bet fucking money he'd save that to his phone, keep a copy of it in his pocket of a kevlar vest. something tangible that you earnestly made for him with intents of capturing your muse onto parchment. between photos of you he keeps to himself, little traces of your existence just make his heart sing. parchment long since creased from how many times he's opened it and closed it, weathered and worn but it's something you made for him to keep. these items that were made or owned by you are invaluable, no amount of money could every buy these off of him. you, as well as anything you make, are treasures he'd protect indefinitely. ✦ in the sense of a long-distance relationship be it for deployment or otherwise, you'd often share what you're working on. be it still images or (stable internet, be willing), you lull him to sleep with delicate humming a tune you're listening to whilst sharing your screen, he'd watch you work on projects you're determined to see to fruition if he couldn't be home to observe you himself. ✦ if you're ever insecure about your work, this big ass goof (affectionate) would stumble over his words but he'd want nothing more than for you to constantly be up his ass about what you do, side-hustle or hobby otherwise. ✦ König is your number 1 supporter, he'd sooner turn in his premature grave before he'd ever slip up on an opportunity to let you think otherwise. even if you find your talent lackluster by comparison, he'd perish atop mountains shouting how talented his beloved Schatz is! the way you breath life into such fictitious subjects always drew him in. especially with how you drew eyes and expressions! (when he noticed you often mimic the facial creases yourself when focusing on expressions, but he'd never tell you. it's too precious to point out so brazenly). ✦ frankly, if this passion of yours is important to you? it's important to him, and he will not budge on this. what sparks you joy will be a wonderous experience for him too, and what partner would he be if he wasn't supportive of your interests, hobbies or line of work?

♜ Krueger. . .

✦ see, Sebastian would be a bit interesting because you'd think at first he'd pay little to no mind. ✦ his steps are so quiet around the house that half the time you're just ignorant of his presence for several minutes. a comedically long while before the inkling of someone behind you ever crossed your mind. ✦ it's not that you'd mind (not unless he scares the proverbial piss out of you, of course) but he just can't help but be curious. maybe he's not one for the modern arts (perhaps more classical?) but... you're his darling little liebling, he isn't so much as a fool to be ignorant of your interests. ✦ however he's not too partial to being separate from you; Krueger gives me the impression he's partial to physical touch... when he wants to be that is (frankly he's no better than a cat in my eyes). ✦ "Schatzi?" / "Hmmm~?" / "Come, bring your little drawing things with you if you must but I need you here," ✦ he now fully sees a character design you've been working on and admittedly... curiosity does get the better of him and he begins inquiring what you're working on whilst your form settles into his. ✦ "Oh! This is a commission for someone who paid me illustrate a character for their indie game!" he just nods along, allowing you space to involve him into this little world of yours. revealing to him the various concepts tossed back and forth between you and your client. ✦ Sebastian is (quietly) fascinated by how your creative little mind works. keenly taken notes, exhibiting your perceptive attentive to rather pedantic details―it's so (annoyingly) endearing. he's come to find himself enamored, entertained even, by your eccentric interests. your fixations are ones that vastly differ from his, but these are distinctive traits he's come to adore you for. ✦ he jokingly threw out the idea of how he'd look in such a world of whimsy given your subjects of focus is often fantasy. oh boy, he shouldn't have said that because now you have ideas and that is dangerous to give one's partner with only their imagination as a limiter. ✦ he'd be physically unable to admit to it, but he'd likely have saved the drawings that poured every ounce of love into. utterly taken by your imaging him in a knight's garb rather than tac pants and kevlar. the thought of you seeing him as such a regal-looking protector... he struggles to give name the feeling a name most days. the one that makes his stomach feel light and fluttery, his heart feel like a frantic bird caged by bone instead of metal. that same one makes his cheeks and ears warmer than normal.

♞ Nikto. . .

✦ see, there's just something about Nikto that gives me the impression he wouldn't even ask. however, don't mistake this as disinterest! baby boy is so fucking curious what his little one is doing! he's just unsure how to articulate such a.. loaded question(?) and you seem so focused on what you're doing! ✦ i kinda see him doing that animal-thing. y'know, the one where he just quietly observes every subtle movement, noise or expression that catches his eye‒you two more often than not just kinda "co-exist" together in the same shared space. not always needing to talk verbally. finding comfort in peaceful, silent company is more than enough between you two! this life led with tranquility is more than he'd ever dare to ask for. ✦ instead, i can see him bringing you sustenance and fluids, you're keeping yourself so, so busy! but you need to eat and drink at some point! things he knows you like! things that he's memorized by heart! it's always the quiet bitches like him (affectionate) who have an internalized backlog of information when it comes to you. it took quite the adjustment period when you made the off-handed remark that you like a specific blend of tea, and he ensured you'd never run out. ✦ little did he know, you were working on a passion project of the indie development. working along side a few other individuals, and you were the one designing characters for a game jam! intending to make a concept a protagonist who's build you're not exactly familiar with drawing (bulky, trained, fit. think professional dead lifter types which distantly remined you of Nikto). ✦ he couldn't help but notice that the usual focus is now tightly knit with frustration. the quiet, concerned glance he shot your way went unnoticed, far too deep in your own thoughts to really pay any heed to the brewing worry. he had to say something... anything to snap you out of this mental limbo that deafened you. ✦ "любимый?" ("beloved?") / "Huh?" / "Something troubles you...?" / "Trouble me?— oh! No, no I'm okay!" / "Your expression tells me different... will you allow me to listen? To.. help?" ✦ eventually the big brutish bear cuts through your thoughts to source the root of your worries! frankly, it'd cause you to wrinkle far earlier than you mean to! as prompted, you're airing out your grievances with this project being out of your comfort zone. it's hard to come up with a concept that you're happy with and you've deadlines to meet. he listens to you diligently, he may not understand the full weight of your plight; it matters to you, then it matters to him. ✦ you don't know how exactly, but eventually, somehow, you ended up enlisting Nikto's assistance! his figure is close enough the concepts the head of your team posted onto your inspiration board! ✦ somehow, that incorrigible art block just... magically vanished, it was mind boggling even to you. Nikto didn't really understand given all he did was slide you a few photos or posed for your creative use. but the creases on your brow line were softer if not gone entirely, so he'd consider his intervention a success. ✦ you find yourself looking at the game's protagonist (whom you coyly suggested he be named "Andre" for no suspicious reason at all), and you're elated! proud of it, too! it's evident that he bears Nikto's likeness in more than a few aspects aspects! aside from the build, of course. Nikto has been watching you work your magic, manifesting such artistry from nothing but your own thoughts. finding himself in awe watching, left only with silent reverence upon seeing you in your natural habitat of creation was... breath taking. however, he couldn't help but notice his heart thumping against his ribcage a little harder seeing his likeness in something you made. it was... flattering? is that the word he's feeling? seeing how you took characteristics that elicit hardship or grief but you captured his image with calm, quiet confident air. was this how you saw him, truly?

[interact-if]

Black History Month Author Spotlight: Lapin

To kickstart the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, I'd like to introduce everyone to our first IF author, Lapin (@harlequinoccult)!

(I had a ton of fun reading Lapin’s answers, and I’m sure you will too! Read on for a celebration of ‘weird,’ Lapin’s Black southern gothic / horror influences, and how a D&D game could lead to interactive fiction!

Lapin, thank you again for your candid, humorous responses, I am very honored to have gotten to know you better :D)

Author: Lapin

Black creole and cajun, artist and writer, and wannabe game developer

Games: Slaughter Squad (Horror, Slasher, Romance)

Synopsis: YOU HAVE A HUNGER A HUNGER THAT YOU’VE BEEN NEGLECTING For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your.....”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer, and quite frankly, a sloppy one at that. And you’re the accessory to his crimes. No matter what way you’ve gotten to know the man, or how you feel about him, you’re stuck with him, and stuck with just being his little “helper” ........Or are you? Especially when you’re suddenly given a....Unique opportunity.

Games: The Valley of Luck (Fantasy, Adventure, Romance)

Synopsis: The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale. Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some. However, your quest, whether related to The Valley or not, will lead you down a much stranger path.

Quote from the interview:

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household… Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. … I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs….I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

Both parts of my family are 100% from Louisiana, New Orleans and the deep south. My moms side have been there so long, we have two streets named after us.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My main project, of course, is Slaughter Squad. I love slasher movies and horror media in general. But what I always noticed with horror/romance, at least in the visual novel scene, is that the main character is nearly always the one getting screwed over, so I thought, well, what if the bad guys actually are your peers? How would this dynamic change if they don't see you as prey? I never thought that premise would appeal so much to so many but hey, I can't complain! I adore seeing people having fun with the silly little concept I had.

Now, my secondary project, The Valley of Luck. Some may not know this, but this story is based off of a D&D campaign I DM'ed back in the day with my friends. All the ROs are NPCs that my friends had, or where going to encounter. I won't lie, I did shy away from it and changed some things when the whole debacle with Wizards of the coast (the company that "owns" D&D) Where making some...questionable decisions. But this story is my baby. My first born. This one has been in the works far longer than SLSQ and has a lot of background lore that I hope I get the opportunity to share.

I do have a few other projects bumping around, One I am particularly excited for, But that one will have to wait a little bit~

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household. I never felt that I truly had a sense of identity until that household inevitably split up. Everyone talks about being the weird kid in middle school, but no one mentions being the "normal on the outside but wants to be the weird kid so bad its painful on the inside but can't because you were told that stuff is 'white people shit' " type of kid.

Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. I was a little shitter on the internet, I can't lie about that, as much as I want to. But I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs....I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Let your characters speak through you like you're being possessed by a demon.

What’s the one thing you’re really proud of that you’ve written so far? Do you have a favorite character or scene that you’ve written?

I am so serious.

is it wildly inconvenient? yes. does it help your writing a ton? also yes. Doing Roleplay with friends is a fantastic way to learn to do this. being a DM for a D&D game has basically made it so characters can simply speak from my brain at any given moment. It's also annoying because some of these people do NOT shut up. Learning how a character would react on the fly does wonders for dialogue writing and character analysis. Roleplay with your friends, or hell, strangers who are down to clown that could become friends. Be cringe. be free.

I love the opening to Slaughter Squad and if you told me to rewrite it with a gun to my head I would tell you to shoot me. I love how punchy it is and it came out exactly how I wanted it to. I don't play favorites with characters (<- lying) but my two favorites to write are the stinky little bastard cat Sterling in TVoL and.....Carter, from SLSQ. I love writing complete bastards. One being lighthearted and gets a pass for it because he's just a kitty cat and the other you want to actively beat his face in with your bare hands. It's SO funny.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

Write. Write it now. Doesn't have to be good doesn't have to be polish all that matters is that you WROTE IT. All the bells and whistles can come later!!!! Stop thinking about the later and think about the now!!!! Write what you love and never give two shits about if it's cringe!!! Be excellent to each other!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

GO LISTEN TO CHROMAKOPIA BY TYLER THE CREATOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Lapin’s pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Lapin’s custom “this-or-that” pairing: Rain or Shine

More on Black Southern Gothic:

Black southern gothic can vary a lot, but when I think of it, I think of old semi abandoned wood shotgun houses in the swamp, all white tiny baptist churches where the white paint is peeling from the heat and humidity, riding horses down a dirt paved street while people still ride by in their old busted down 1960s chevys. Old plantation houses that have been reclaimed by the swamp. The dark, humid heat of the night on a street with no streetlights. Every house you see is absolutely haunted by something and not just ghosts. Voodoo and hoodoo is different than what people will tell you it is.

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jessamin Ward, and anything by Toni Morrison 100%.

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[ao3commentoftheday]

i'm sort of struggling dealing with jealousy in my fandom.

there is a character i'm very fond of in the source material. we don't know a lot about them, they never directly appear in the story and we only have a handful of information that we know is canon for sure. so that means a lot about this character is left up to audience interpretation, down to something as surface-level as their physical appearance. it's already a very niche fandom, and i write and draw for this character.

for about three years, i have been subject to vagueposting by some big name fans who are very invested in discussing canon lore. they have never mentioned me by name, and in their vagueposts they act as though there are multiple artists or authors who portray this version of the character the way i do... when i know it's just me. i have never spoken to them directly. i wish them no ill will. but they have said some truly hurtful, nasty things about my version of this character behind my back without mentioning me by name.

this is where the jealousy comes in. i never got a huge amount of attention when i started writing and drawing art for this fandom, but i suspect that because in these bnfs' vagueposting people know they're talking about me specifically, they stay away from my work because these bnfs talk about how my interpretation is bad. this is, to be fair, kind of far-fetched.

really, what makes me upset is that i was never an artist or writer who got a lot of attention in the first place when these bnfs have been into this source material for a few years more than i have, and have a significantly larger following and circle of friends than i do. yet they choose to go after me and say some truly rude things about my characterization work behind my back when they're also making things up... just that their work is more popular.

i have blocked and muted these people, and continue to do so when i run into others who speak rudely of me behind my back. when i write fic, i link to my social medias (not ko-fi. i understand ao3's policies about that) to my social media page - call it shallow, but i really do want to spend more time with other people and chat with other fans about my interpretation. but i'm not sure what more i can do to healthily manage my jealousy and upset at these people for saying rude things behind my back. part of me wants to confront them about it, but i'm a very short-tempered person and i don't want to end up making things worse.

I'm so sorry anon *hugs* This situation sucks, and I wish you weren't in it.

From everything you've written here, it doesn't sound like you're experiencing jealousy? Like, everything you're describing is hurt feelings due to people maligning your work and your character.

The part that you might be interpreting as jealousy, I'm reading as loneliness or feelings of isolation in your fandom. You want to have people to talk to and share ideas with. That's totally understandable, and it's actually something that most of us want too.

I'm glad that you've already blocked and muted those folks. That was 100% a smart move to make. Keep that kind of negative energy as far away as possible, and you're much more likely to find peace.

When it comes to finding people to talk with, you might have to take a more active role. Sharing your social media is one step, but it relies on the other person reaching out in order for that to be successful. You might have better luck if you're the one who sends the first message.

I know that can feel intimidating, especially in a space where you know people are talking shit about you. Try starting with just one person. If someone leaves a like on your artwork or a kudos/comment on your fic, try sending them an ask or replying to their comment with a question for them to respond to. By starting with someone who has already given you a positive response, you might have less to worry about?

There isn't really anything you can do to stop mean people from being mean to you. Keep doing what you're doing on that front, and focus your energy on finding people who are actually nice. I hope you find them ❤️

[mediumgayitalian]

¡hi! I just wanted to mention I found your ficts like, a week ago by pure chance and I am absolutely obsessed with the way you characterize will and the rest of the apollo cabin. Haven't actually interacted with any pjo content in a WHILE but i just absolutely ran through most your ficts in such few time, i adore how you write oh my god. It's everything i've ever wanted for these characters I so rarely find any content but am still mildly loosing my mind over.

🥺thank u..........that is so kind. and if ur looking for more stuff i can list some of my biggest inspirations!!

my fave pjo writer, even above rick riordan, is @cordelia---rose -- she is the will solace author of all time and gets him like no one else does. and me personally im more of a character writer than a plot writer, but BOY can cordelia do both. here's her ao3.

another writer i love is @the-ghost-king, who is not only right all the time but has some EXCELLENT niche headcanons for will that fit so so well. he's also got great analyses in abundance about the entire canon series, as he's currently rereading it, and on nico in general. his ao3 is here.

GOD does @rottenpomegranate (could not tell u if this is the right blog, im going off ao3 username) ever get not only solangelo specifically but how to write really intimate relationships. i stg im regularly picking thru their fics for instructions. anyways. ao3 here.

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll u wanna talk about PLOT! they have ur back!! they come up with the most fascinating story ideas and i eat it up every time. delicious. they are also an autistic will truther and i love that. ao3 here.

OVER TO THE FCKN CLASSICS IT'S @rosyredlipstick !!! ive been reading her stuff genuinely since i was 11 years old. i GREW UP on conchell. her stuff is so interesting and her shorter stuff is so cozy i reread on the reg. ao3 here.

ANOTHER ENDLESS CLASSIC! been reading @buoyantsaturn 's stuff just as long. he's got a HUGE collection of work it's my aspiration. they're really good at writing drew actually which is niche but i love her. ao3.

and a third classic! @percyspandapillowpetperry ive been reading their fics forever and it's funny cus their username is so specific it Sticks in my memory. i remember where i was when reading a lot of these for the first time. they write a lot of silliness and they're great for a laugh ! ao3

THE PJO ARRANGED MARRIAGE ROYAL AU....😭😭😭 @gatesofember COME BACK PLEASE I NEED TO SEE HOW IT ENDS!!! i used this fic as inspo for my own royal au. i drank up every word and i think of will's family dynamic in it ALL THE TIME. ao3.

@percyinpanties wrote my favourite smutty solangelo fic of all time and they actually generally write a lot of good, kind of plot driven but mostly just GOOD smut and i am there w a notepad every time. i stg. ao3.

i disagree with @ughdomenico a Lot but i can never pinpoint why and im always mad that even tho i disagree i also agree a little. even if i don't want to. she always has something fascinating to stay and it sticks in my mind forever. always inspired. ao3.

nikkiRA when i fucking catch you nikkiRA. "Will dreams of the people he cannot save. They're mad a him." changed my fucking LIFE youre evil youre sick and twisted. ao3

THE GOLDEN APPLE THE FUCKIN GOL okay. @thegoldenappleofdiscord has this one fucking fic and its unfinished right. has been for years. of will growing up with plague powers that he hates. and it fucking HAUNTS me it changed the way i wrote will solace forever PLEASE COME BACK (ao3)

@ghosttotheparty dude his solangelo is great of course but their PERCABETH...their percabeth fucking gets me bad. ao3.

look if you're frothing at the mouth for a royal au. and i so often am. @theroyalsavage as you can maybe guess, has you COVERED. they get the weirdo power dynamics means sucker punch intimacy of a royal au SO good...like she knows what she's doing fr. ao3.

OKAY ONTO ARTISTS:

@mothmanavenue hasnt been doing much pjo stuff lately but when she does it's fire!! she made my pfp too.

@skysmadness is less active here but he's pretty active on instagram (same username) and just posted some nico art actually!! i love the way he draws faces. AND in general i love how he draws nico, he styles him really well.

oh boy @cindersart hasnt drawn pjo in FOREVER but they've been drawing since i was a kid. i have soooooo many of their works saved on my phone bc their comedic expressions KILL me and inspire so so many fics.

brand new follow for me but @the-sunniest-angels angels holy moly!!! they use colours SO well it shocks me so bad. i love how whipped nico is in their art lol

@delicate-sketch ... oh all of you know delicate sketch. she's got pfp's all over this site lol. and HOO boy do her paintings knock the breath out of you.......ive been thinking of her children of hades painting for a while like im always thinking about delicate demigods now. they are. they are

hasn't gone here in a while either (i am noticing a trend 😭😭) but @clingonlikeclingwrap drew a couple of my fics and they captured will angst SO well. love that to pieces.

and finally @cometjuice HI BELOVED.....theeeeee apollo cabin artist OF ALL TIME like oh my goodness i scroll thru their blog every day like the paper. endless endless w's.

ANYWAYS this was a lot but i hope ur can curate ur tumblr experience!! so many brilliant minds at work here!!

[project-lumen]

Have you ever wondered how the Life Series would look like as a videogame?

Then I bring to you…

Project LUMEN: APPLICATIONS OPEN!!

Ever wanted to relive the stories woven by the Watchers, exceeding the limits of what Minecraft is able to offer? How about venturing in a perilous journey full of twists and turns, and most importantly, loooooooooooore?

Well, why hello there! To kick off the start of 2025, Kori, Arto and Pinkie here, and we are proud to present “Project LUMEN”! Our newest scheme to conceptualize and develop a video game based off the traffic-colored hearts we are all so familiar with. An ambitious project, that’s for sure, and that is why we are opening applications to join our little team, right on time to welcome the new year! :]

(way more info under the cut, get ready)

Once a pile of jumbled, senseless ideas, Project LUMEN has evolved into a more fleshed-out collection of story beats and mechanics. An RPG-like game revolving around the tales within the Life Series, a collection of death games ran by the mysterious deities that call themselves Watchers. The player takes on the role of the Watcher Child (affectionately referred to as WC), following and guiding the Champions chosen by the Watchers themselves through challenges and enemies. Featuring unique leveling systems, DnD inspired classes, and, most importantly, the ability to impact the story with the choices you make… because, after experiencing all the Life Series seasons from both the Watcher and the Player side, maybe you’ll have a change of mind. After all is said and done and seen, the world is yours to shape, Watcher Child.

Right, so that’s a basic summary of the concept we have, now here’s a little preview of what we have written for the prologue :3

Chapter 0: ‘The Watcher’s Apprentice’

The player takes the form of a Watcher in training, an ageless child, the Watcher Child. The most powerful and ancient Watchers, unexplained cryptic creatures that live up to their name by watching all, talk about a new series of experiments they have been running, called “The Life Series”.

The only rundown that the WC was given was that a carefully selected group of talented players were asked to test their little Life game for them, where they each have only three lives. Whoever survives last, wins. There were no rules as to how they could play the games. The Watchers then add that they, along other WCs, will be observing from the viewpoint and thoughts of one of the players. This is so the WC can get an idea of the Watchers' work. Of course, our little WC was ecstatic and ever so curious about this new idea.

Fast-forward (and after a couple of tutorials showing off the bare basics of the battle mechanics in the actual game), now our WC was standing in a circle with other apprentices just like them. The Watchers then hold a deck of mystic cards in front of each of them, and everyone picks one. When the cards are revealed, our WC sees a glowing, red card with a person on it. The card simply said, "THE SUN".

Huh, I wonder who could that be…

Now, we get into the thick of it: who are we searching for to join our team? Well, there are some requirements that the potential members should fulfill, here’s a comprehensive list of key points:

We are mainly looking for artists to help us with designs, sprites, backgrounds and UI. Although, we also welcome any writers willing to help us with developing concepts and adding more ideas!

Every person who applies should be involved with the Life Series fandom, we want to build a team with people as passionate about this Minecraft series as we are!

When answering the Application Form, please type in your favorite type of flower (in case you do not have one, just write 'sunflower') in the "Anything else to add?" part, this is only to ensure you've read the announcement :]

Welp, glad you asked. The current plan is, while the applications go on for a week or two, constantly post pieces of concept art and just story bits on this blog, then all the people selected to join the team will be added to the blog as members. We plan to post updates, concept art, sprites and small lore drops periodically on that blog to hopefully garner an audience, and it will also be open for asks and suggestions so that, even if some users aren’t part of the team, they can still help bring this absolute beast of a game to life. Ideally we will work on a small demo experience first with placeholders and stuff to just get the mechanics right and get some testers, and after that, use all feedback, polish the art, deliver a beta version for playtesting, then fix the last details and then release the full version on itch.io, that’s our roadmap. :D (there's the possibility to also publish a browser version to Newgrounds with mobile compatibility tho, so mobile users do not fear!)

Well, Project LUMEN is a very, very hefty task, a big plan to undertake, and, in all honesty, too much work for only three people. Also, talking from experience, having other person involved in development has helped LUMEN to give gigantic steps, helping to ground ideas and give inspiration, now, imagine how far we could go if we had more people in this squad. We are not only looking for artists, we are looking for people whom we can brainstorm with and throw concepts around to polish them and grow the game even more. However, we also wish to keep the team directly working on the game fairly reduced, we are thinking 3–5 people more, but depending on the amount of responses we have, we might consider expanding that number.

The spirit of the game is to be made by the community for the community, we want to offer a quality game, and, by working together, we will be able to make Project LUMEN the best it can be. Though, you need to be aware that this project is solely fueled by the passion we have for the Life Series, and we will not profit off it at all. Please, take into account that this is likely going to be a months-long project, and only apply if you are willing to put in the effort in the long-run, that’s all we ask for.

On the bright side though, by joining in the developing of the game, you’ll be able to contribute to it as much as you’d like, change anything, add anything! You’ll have your rightful spot in the credits and probably a cameo in-game, the team may be small, but we know that, with the right people, we will be able to get it done (cleo is in the storyline too dw).

Application Form!

[hepbaestus]

I wish fic writers would get the same amount of support and admiration as fan artists do. (Long rant incoming and no I'm not even going to put it under a read more because it would be skipped over if it was.)

This might sound biased, coming from someone who posts fics and does not have a lick to talent when it comes to art, but just, please, read and try to understand.

It fucking sucks to see something that two different people have spent hours working on and only one gets the attention it rightly deserves because there's no stigma of it being "creepy" or "perverted" like fanfiction does and as publicly too.

I do understand that this will likely never change and that I'll have to get used to it as a fic writer, but, the fact that I'm having to 'get over it' because that's just how it is in fandom-spaces sucks. It shouldn't be like that, it's demoralising, and frankly off-putting. It makes me, and likely others who won't publicly say it, not want to post our written works.

Like there are times where people are literally spending hours and hours planning, drafting, proofreading and then correctly tagging a fic only for it to get no recognition or more critique than adoration. Whereas a fan artist can spend maybe a couple of hours on what they'll call a doodle and get all the praise. This isn't to bash any fan artists because goddamn I know y'all love what you do (and rightly so) but it feels like a stake to heart seeing two sides of the same coin being treated with completely different levels of respect.

Like I also understand that, with how people's attention spans are lessening, that not everyone is bothered or able to read something that's 5k+ (or even 1k+) words and I get it, but also? Give it a chance? You might, now stick with me here, actually like what you read. I know. Shocker.

And, then, if you do actually read something someone has kindly put out into the world for free, don't put comments in your bookmarks or the comments section stating how you "wish it was written different" or "from another character's pov" or when you decided to drop the fic. The author does not want to know when you dropped their fic. Just move the fuck on. If you want it a certain way so much, fucking write it yourself (or if the writer has commissions open, commission them like you would an artist). It is rude to leave comments like this and so incredibly disheartening for the writer of that fic to see such comments. If you have a critique about a fic, privately talk to your friends in the same fandom as you about it or if you don't have that put it in a private discord or something. Unless the author has explictly stated that they would like critiques, which is when you would comment some critiques if you had any, you do not need to leave unwarranted critiques. It is rude and unnecessary.

I could share screenshots of people who leave unwarranted critiques to fics in their comments section or bookmark comments, but because I'm a kind individual who frankly cannot be bothered to compile several tumblr posts of solely images, I'm not. But do know that we do see every comment under our works and saying "oh I didn't think you'd see it" is not a fucking excuse. People who make fan creations often look into their comments to see people's reactions, in hopes of having spread the joy or similar emotion they had when writing or drawing their piece.

And content creators who review fan art with praise and then immediately make fun of fic writers, I despise you. Genuinely. The fact that you think it's okay to uplift one part of your creative audience while not doing such with the other is disgusting. I do understand that there are boundaries that a person will have towards both forms of media but completely writing off one form of fan creation while entertaining the other is genuinely one of the most saddening things. It creates a further divide between these two sides of fan creation and reinforces people's mean attitudes towards fanfic writers simply because how they express their love for a piece of media is not easily viewed. There are, obviously creators who do acknowledge but stay away from fanfiction and I respect that; it's about actively going into those spaces to criticise and, in some cases, bully, those writers about something they're passionate about. If you're that insistent on leaving a negative comment on something, please, for the love of everything get a fucking life.

This is a long winded way of saying respect people who make fan content because, 99% of the time, they're doing it for free and for their own entertainment.

[darlingofdots]

Something I encounter more and more in fiction is a specific brand of assurance to the reader that I can only ascribe to The Twitter Cop That Lives In Our Heads. There's a pervasive desire to make it clear that, see, I'm intersectional, I'm conscious of the potential problematics of this encounter, I'm one of the good ones, and it's not that I don't understand the impulse and the fear of being called out because I do! It's scary out there! But it is often so grating to be reading a novel and have a conversation be derailed by a brief and pointed exchange about accessibility when not a single character in the book is disabled, or to have a heated makeout sesh interrupted by an explanation of the traffic light system, and the sad thing about this is that it would be absolutely possible to show these things in elegant and unobtrusive ways but for various reasons we are resorting to telling instead.

I know that out here in the world, we talk about enthusiastic and informed consent a lot, and those are very important conversations and this topic should be part of comprehensive and widely accessible sex education everywhere, and if you are entering into a relationship with a new partner, you should probably sit down and lay out explicitly what you are both comfortable with and how you prefer to communicate. HOWEVER. I, the reader of a high-heat contemporary romance novel, do not need to have this discussion with the characters who are about to fuck each other blind after their first date. I do not need to sit in on the equivalent to a new employee's onboarding process where they get told how to use the company intranet. It's boring! It's so dull! Instead, how about we package the information that is actually being transmitted (we are two enthusiastic partners about to fuck each other blind and we are also sensible people who respect each other's preferences and boundaries) in a way that doesn't disrupt the narrative momentum? Maybe interject an "is this okay?" or have one character go "tell me what you want" all sexily. Reference the characters taking note of their partner's reactions. There are a lot of ways to work this kind of Statement of Ethics into your writing, whether it's about sex scenes or trans rights or whatever, and personally I find this much more compelling than a neatly-injected soundbite which always comes off as either overly anxious or performative to me.

A secondary issue here, in my opinion, is that the world (specifically social media, but social media is part of the world) increasingly demands explicit statements from artists and uses an absence of "I wholeheartedly condemn x"-type quotes as an indication that someone actively endorses x, because why wouldn't they say so otherwise? This is bad. It's a bad development. It's a really gross combination of the literacy crisis and callout culture and it gets people hurt. So I really do not and cannot blame writers who feel the need to be very explicit about what they believe in, which is why I am not suggesting that you shouldn't include those beliefs in your work; what I am saying, though, is that your work will be much more authentic and touching if you find ways to show me.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.” 

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.” 

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 

I needn’t have worried. 

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me. 

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

What would the stardew valley villagers think if one day their good pal farmer just casually dropped the fact they used to be into something crazy, like an illegal fighting ring. "Yeah I hiked out to an abandoned building at the outskirts of the city every Friday to fistfight people in the basement. It paid 10 times better then my shitty office job ever did but only when I won. There were some real actual martial artists in that ring too, even broke 2 of my fingers punching 1 guy, I miss hanging out with those dudes. Fighting actually relived a lot of stress for me, I didn't quit because I got hurt or anything I quit because my neighbors/coworkers wouldnt stop fussing over me when they saw me after I got hurt in a match. There's no acceptable way to explain how you get a black eye at the end of every week that doesn't raise alarm or get the cops called on someone. I'd probably get back into it if it didn't take a bus ride into the city to get to. I'm not even sure if the 1 i used to go to us still there, i might be able to find one of the other fighters and ask but its not guaranteed any if the other fighters i used to hang out with are all even still in that city"

"Wtf," said all the residents at the same time.

That's it, that's a headcanon. Thanks for the ask! ❤️

Alright, I'm kidding, but the way you wrote that ask, dear anon, is pretty funny heh 😁 Thanks a lot for the question, by the way! Enjoy 💖

_________________________________________

SDV villagers react to Farmer who told them about their illegal fights in past:

"Sir/Ma'am/Mx., this is Wendy's Pierre's." With all due respect to Pierre's best customer, why is Farmer telling him all this behind the counter of his store? Here's your seeds, fertilizer and saplings and goodbye. He has to work and he doesn't care about their- Wait, hold on, don't you dare tell that to his daughter-!

But Pierre was too late with his warnings: Abigail was standing nearby and had heard everything Farmer had said. The amethyst lover looked at them adoringly, because holy shit, underground fights in the city.... Farmer is so cool and badass in her eyes! Naturally, she wants to hear their stories of illegal fights (only when her parents aren't around).

Caroline called out to Abigail "on some very urgent business, quick!", bestowing Farmer with a shocked and concerned look. Seriously, she looked at them as if Farmer had just confessed to murder or something. Now she didn't really want her daughter hanging out with them, afraid that Abby would pick up the crazy idea to join the fights too.

Oh... Yeah, Elliott's friend has, uh... quite an interesting past. And what surprises the writer most is not even Farmer's underground battles themselves, but the fact of how they drastically change the trajectory of their lives and yet adapt to the environment with ease. From an office worker to a no-holds-barred fighter, and now a farmer. Well, if they want to write a biography, this would definitely be fun to read.

"Uh, what?" What did Farmer just tell Leah? The artist had listened to her dear friend's story about growing a giant pumpkin while she was finishing a new painting, and now how they were discussing Farmer's criminal past. Uh, cool and all, but maybe they'd better change the subject? Can they go back to telling stories about pumpkins?

"Ha ha ha how interesting, thanks for sharing!" Although Penny stood like a statue, motionless, her body slowly moved away from Farmer, who had just answered the teacher's question about their hobby in general. This was something she was definitely not prepared for, and, with a nervous smile, ended the conversation. How Penny moved without moving even a finger of her hand was a mystery.

*Shane put his can of beer away* Ok first of all, what the fuck. Second of all, he didn't really give a damn that Farmer was running around in dodgy places and fighting over money in Zuzu City, to be completely honest. Especially since the chicken man himself had done some crazy shit in his youth, not his place to judge or something. And last of all, what the fuck.

*Sob* "A- Aunt Marnie... Uncle Shane..." "Mommy! Sam!" "Uncle Linus!" Oops.... Apparently telling Jas, Vincent and Leo about 'the hobby' with detailed descriptions of violence wasn't Farmer's smartest idea (seriously, what did they even expect?). The kids have tears on their cheeks and their parents/guardians give Farmer a not-so-kind look. Now the delinquent farmer need lots of ice cream and mangoes so the local kids will forgive them.

Oh, so that's why Emily senses such an unusual aura around Farmer. Hmm? Ah, no, she just thinking out loud. Emily gets a little upset by such detailed descriptions of fights (she can't stand violence), so she politely asks Farmer to omit the details of their fights. An unconventional choice to 'relax', but it's not her place to judge people. And Farmer found some good friends there, so that's great!

Huh, now Marlon and Gil know where their new Guild member got their fighting skills from the very beginning of their arrival in the Valley. Fighting ring, eh? Marlon had dabbled a bit in all sorts of battles and fights for money too when he was Farmer's age - pretty good income, booze and friends. Though then he quickly gave it up as he found his purpose as adventurer and devoted himself to defending the Stardew Valley from monsters. Gil was the same, but he had been practicing his "hobby" a little longer than his one-eyed colleague.

Oh, goodness! So much violence and blood in Farmer's stories. Pity poor Evelyn's old heart, she can't listen to such cruel battles. So Farmer better stop talking and silently accept cookies and tea from sweet grandma and tell about their work on the farm.

Hmph! 'Underground battles', what a nonsense! Today's youth go to some abandoned buildings, fight, break laws and feel cool. If George wasn't confined to that damn wheelchair, he'd take Farmer down in one moment. And anyway, Farmer should stop this talking about their fighting, because George's wife doesn't like to talk about violence at the kitchen table.

"Tough fella, huh?" Alex regarded his friend Farmer for about half a minute. Really quite a formidable opponent if the athlete were to ask Farmer to fistfight in a friendly sparring. Though he's most interested in Farmer's diet and routine, since even before their farming career started, they look very healthy ("just don't suggest anything illegal, got it?").

*Sigh* The Wizard already knows. All. That. Farmer, how many times does he have to tell you he knows about your past? He's a wizard. A wizard. Someone who can see the future of others in a crystal ball and such. So unless Farmer brought him purple mushrooms or void essence, please don't distract Rasmodius with their stories, he has potions to brew.

"No freaking way, dude!" "Yes freaking way, Sam." The guitarist nearly fell off his chair when Farmer told him how they used to fight all sorts of big guys in the city in addition to their clerk jobs. Mega cool and hardcore! Sam will of course listen to more stories from his friend, but one moment, just let him close his room door so his mom or dad doesn't accidentally hear them.

Though Jodi doesn't particularly need to hear it from her oldest son's room - Caroline has already shared gossip and warnings with her during their weekly aerobics class. Which makes Jodi wary now, though she won't say her worries out loud. She won't treat Farmer any worse, they're good neighbors after all, she's just... worried about her sons, alright?

"Farmer, a word." Huh, they wonder what Kent needed from the Farmer. "I'll be honest: I don't know what your reasons were for your illegal fighting, it's none of my business and it's not for me to judge you. But don't suggest anything like that to Sam and Vincent, got it?" The veteran doesn't really care about Farmer's past, he just worried about his sons. Well, his kids are smart and won't get involved in anything illegal but just in case. Nothing personal.

That explains to Harvey how there are so many scars on Farmer's body. Quite a large number for someone as young as them. So how long had they been participating in these questionable activities? A month? Over a year? Some of the scars have long since healed. Wait, you know what - no need to tell him this further, because the first stories with such violence already made the doctor feel sick to his stomach.

"Uhhh..." Maru is shocked. "Goddess, did you really get paid so poorly in Joja that you had to do this as well to earn your bread?" Pretty shocking detail about Farmer, but hey, at least they made friends with many people back then, that's a good thing, yeah? Honestly, the inventor doesn't know how she should respond to that or what to say.

Ok, too much information for Gus... People are different, it's just that the owner of the Saloon doesn't understand how Farmer can talk about it so calmly and openly. He'd still understand if the Farmer told him about their illegal fights after a glass or two of strong wine/el, but they told him sober. They would, this, be careful who they told it to.

Sebastian took the cigarette out of his mouth and uttered a delighted 'wow...'. So, a job at a soul-sucking corporation during the day and bare-knuckle fighting at night? Damn, crazy lifestyle. But why didn't Farmer quit their job at Joja then? And why did they quit everything and become farmer now? Sebby's in no hurry to go home and if Farmer has some free time, maybe they'll tell the local emo about their fights in Zuzu City.

Haley sighs tiredly. Yoba, why does she have to be surrounded by weirdos? The guy who always wears black, her own sister's so weird with her crystals and aura nonsense. And now this new farmer is telling her wild facts about their life... It's so unfair!

"Aye," was the only thing Willy replied before taking up his smoking pipe again with his teeth. Not that thel old fisherman didn't care what Farmer was saying, but first of all, it would be better for both of them to sit in silence so as not to scare the fish away right now, and secondly, Farmer should not tell every person they met about their illegal hobbies. Other people might misunderstand them, or even use this information to blackmail them.

"What the fuck are you yapping about, kid?" Pam only partially heard their story, as the alcohol in her body already makes her feel very sleepy. Then there's this weird shit from Farmer. But also... if Farmer would now set another mug of beer for her, them she would listen to them, their every crazy story. With her eyes closed.

As soon as Demetrius hears exactly what Farmer told Maru, his wife Robin has to keep her hyper-parenting husband from taking drastic actions he might regret. So while he's sulking in the lab and glaring at his daughter and her friend, Robin gently explains to Farmer that this kind of talk about their illegal hobby isn't to everyone's liking, and if you can, don't mention it in front of her hubby and kids, okay? Especially such a detailed description of broken limbs (the picture comes to mind is unpleasant, to say at least). No offense.

What?! Illegal fights?! And Farmer's telling Lewis this as a reason to be proud?! They should be ashamed of themself! Doing... stuff like that. And what would their grandfather say if he knew their grandchild had such a secret? "I don't know, Lewis, what grandpa would say to your secret-" !!! Get out of his house! Hmph, the youth these days...

With each sentence, with each detail in Farmer's story, Marnie's face grew paler and paler. Her imagination was building such shock content over Farmer's story that the rancher asked them to stop. They had a hobby that helped them relax and earn money for living before moving here, that's a good thing. She doesn't need any more details.

"... Look, are you going to buy seeds or not?" Time is money, and Morris doesn't like to waste time listening to all these customer stories. Nor should Farmer tell the Joja general manager at all that they've been involved in some not-so-legal flights. Because Morris was advertising coupons in someone else's store without remorse, so what's to stop him from using that information to blackmail Farmer for the benefit of the mega corporation he's working.

".......Uh-huh." On the one hand, Clint had been stuck with the forge all day, and wouldn't mind chatting with Farmer, a friend and regular customer. On the other hand... What? Okay, he didn't care what they'd done in the past. One topic did interest him though. "You were already popular back then and you must have had a crowd of fans, right? Tell me, do 'wrestlers' like that attract women?" He wasn't desperate enough to get into illegal fighting too, but it was still interesting to hear what they'd say about it.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Shape Poem

Shape poem - (or concrete poem) an arrangement of words on a page into shapes or patterns that reveal an image, such as in a calligram.

These visual poems are an artistic blend of the literary and the visual arts.

Readers experience a shape poem via its words, typography, and the visual representation of the poem’s subject.

In this type of visual poetry, the meaning of the poem is enhanced by the shape of the poem itself, rather than the actual words used.

How to Write a Shape Poem

Creating your own shape poem can be a fun writing exercise for poets that only requires a few preliminary steps. A step-by-step guide:

Read other shape poems for inspiration. Start by reading examples of shape poetry for inspiration. Studying how other authors have used the form can spark some inspiration on how to construct your shape poem. It might even help you figure out what you want to write about.

Decide what your poem is about. Before you start writing or planning the shape of your poem, you want to decide what it is about. Deciding on the subject matter of your poem before you plan its shape will help you pick the most relevant shape.

Pick the shape for your poem. Brainstorm a few idea shapes before you start writing, and pick shapes that are familiar and recognizable, like a bird, a car, or a balloon. The shape you pick will have to be created with text, so make sure it’s something easily created and identifiable.

Outline the form of your poem. Once you’ve selected your image, sketch it out on a sheet of paper. The sketch will act as your guide in choosing where certain words should go to create the outline of your selected image. You can lightly pencil in some words to test out how they will look within the given structure.

Write your poem. Now that you’ve planned out the shape of your poem, you are ready to fill it with text. You may need to keep your words brief to fit into the shape of your poem. Use evocative imagery and language that speaks to your readers’ senses. It is also helpful to choose a few words that are related to your poem’s physical shape to help guide your writing process.

Fill the shape in with the text. As with “Swan and Shadow,” you can write a story that gives your image a narrative. Or, you can choose a series of letters and words that repeat to flesh out your picture, such as with “Apfel.” The poetry itself can be free verse or blank verse, or if you’re feeling extra creative you can try rhyming your stanzas.

The Origins of Shape Poems

Shape poems have been around for centuries and are often used in creative writing exercises. Below is a brief history of the shape (or concrete) poem.

Ancient letter arrangements: Shape poems were already a popular literary form in Ancient Greece as early as 2 BC. Scribes would often use the shape of the text itself to bring more meaning into these types of poems.

Early pattern poetry in the early twentieth century: The American poet E. E. Cummings and the French poet Guillaume Apollinaire wrote pattern poems in the first half of the twentieth century, spacing out and styling words on the page for poetic expression. These poets rose to prominence before the concrete poetry movement formally entered the mainstream.

Mid-twentieth century: While the art form has a long history, concrete poetry has only been a widely-shared term since the mid-twentieth century. Poetry as a form was evolving; Dada artists explored sound poetry, introducing new, aural ways to experience poems, primarily via performances that blended music and text.

Development as a visual art form: In 1950s Brazil, writers affiliated with the São Paulo magazine Noigandres experimented with visualizing words on a page. Members of the Noigandres group—including Brazilian writers Augusto de Campos, Décio Pignatari, and Haroldo de Campos—showed their work at an art exhibit. These avant-garde artists carved a new path, blazing a trail for an art movement that was also a literary movement.

Anthology: This artistic medium flourished throughout the twentieth century. In 1968, Mary Ellen Solt published Concrete Poetry: A World View, a definitive collection of the concrete poetry movement.

Examples of Shape Poem

“40 Love”: This concrete poem by Roger McGough is a narrative about a couple playing tennis. The text is divided down the middle, representing the net that separates them while they play, and will also be present when they’re home.

“Apfel”: Written by German writer and scholar Reinhard Döhl (and titled the German word for “apple”), this poem consists of only the word “Apfel” repeated enough times to form the shape of an apple.

“Easter Wings”: The Welsh poet George Herbert created “Easter Wings,” one of the most famous examples of concrete poetry. “Easter Wings” was originally printed sideways—with words not running left to right but up to down—so that readers had to turn the book 90 degrees to read the work. The piece, a religious meditation on Jesus’ atonement, comprises two stanzas that resemble two pairs of angels’ wings.

“Ho/Horizon/On”: Ian Hamilton Finlay published his first collection of concrete poetry, Rapal, in 1963. In “Ho/Horizon/On,” this Scottish poet uses a combination of the words “ho,” “horizon,” and “on” to create a triangular image with a small gap in the bottom center of the concrete poem. The gap could be interpreted as the sun, sitting on the horizon with all the letters above it acting as the illuminated sky.

“Lazy Jane”: Penned and illustrated by Shel Silverstein, this poem features a young girl lying on the ground waiting for water, while the poetry trickles down like a stream above her.

“The Mouse’s Tale.”: In his 1865 novel Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll created a shape poem known as “The Mouse’s Tale.” The poem described a mouse’s tale while also being shaped like a curving mouse’s tail.

“Silencio”: Eugen Gomringer’s “Silencio” shows the title word printed fourteen times to form a box with a hole in the middle, in which another instance of “silencio” would fit. In that hole, the Bavarian-born German poet seems to be showing a visual form of silence.

“Swan and Shadow”: John Hollander’s well-known poem features the figure of a swan made entirely out of text with the reflection of the swan, also written in text, mirrored beneath.

“Uplifting”: Written by Robert Yehling, this concrete poem also functions as an acrostic verse, as the first letter of each line spells out the word “uplifting,” while visually representing the verb through matching text.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[lilybug-02]

Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨

I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨

It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…

Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞

Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!

(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)

I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐

You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐

Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥

—

My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.

I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.

Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!

Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!

I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)

Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao