#did my best to separate it into small paragraphs

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them finding you asleep in public

characters: Fu Xuan / Herta / Himeko / Kafka / March 7th / Natasha / Pela / Qingque / Serval / Tingyun x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: The urge to write a lot more than 1 or 2 paragraphs for some characters was really strong, but I managed it because I am a man of dedication, focus and sheer will… 

that and because I knew this would take far too long if I didn’t contain myself.

Also, there are some characters I still don’t know too much about, so if I got something wrong about their personalities, then I’m sorry

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Fu Xuan

Did you have no idea how stupid you looked while sleeping like this in public? If anyone else found you like this, they’d take you for a lazy bum with no shame, but luckily for you, Fu Xuan knew you well enough to know that at least the first part would be a misconception. Nevertheless you looked stupid. Stupid and a little bit cute. So stupid and a little bit cute in fact that she couldn’t stop herself from pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of you, only for the flash she forgot to turn off to wake you up, causing you to slowly look up at her while rubbing your eyes, in turn causing the Master Diviners face to heat up.

“D-Don’t fall asleep during working hours! …what am I going to do with you..?”

Herta

Sleeping people normally were none of Herta’s concern, they were neither interesting to study, nor entertaining enough to waste her precious time on them. But considering how much of a help you were with her research, it would have been rude not to spare you from the embarrassment of being seen like this by a whole lot of other people. It also helped that she was just about to start an experiment and needed a suitable guinea pig helper.

“Wakey-Wakey. How terrible to be bored enough to fall asleep even though you’re living on my space station. Lucky you! I have just the job for you”

Himeko

Himeko was a researcher first and foremost and one of the most important tasks of any respectable researcher was to observe. It was the first step towards putting together a scientific theory and thus something she was all too familiar with. So whenever she found you sound asleep on one of the astral express’ couches, she did what she did best: observe. Was it with a cup of coffee in hand or some random book she got her hands on.For whatever reason watching you sleep put her mind at ease, like watching one of those cat videos March liked to show around to the rest of the crew. To varying degrees of excitement.

“Theory: the couch is even more comfortable when tired”, Himeko stated to herself before pressing her hand against the couch, feeling it before letting out a small yawn, covering her mouth with her free hand before nodding to herself. “Theory seems possible. I’ll need to test it more often”, she spoke while slowly putting her head on the cushions, tiredness, no matter how much coffee she drank, rolling over Himeko, only for her to quickly nod off herself, her head not far from your own.

Kafka

Truth be told, Kafka would have preferred you were awake. There weren’t many things one could do with a sleeping person, but as waking you up was out of the question, other ideas quickly began swirling through her mind, until finally, her brain decided on one.

Putting on one of her favorite lipsticks, she gave you a quick peck on the cheek, making sure to leave an imprint of her lips, only to find herself unsatisfied with the results. If you were lucky you’d notice it once you went to the bathroom in the morning, by which time you would have already passed the rest of your crewmates, and while she doubted that they’d have any reaction to it, one imprint would have certainly been enough to make you embarrassed about it.

That being said, adding one or two more couldn’t hurt.

March 7th

Seeing you sleeping in such a public place like the parlor of the astral express wasn’t something March got to see every day and while the urge to take a picture of you with her camera was compelling, she knew that there had to be made preparations beforehand. Before long, March pulled out a marker before carefully drawing a silly mustache and monocle on your face, making sure not to wake you up in the process. You were probably going to figure out the culprit relatively quickly once you looked in the mirror, but as long as she got a silly photo, March didn’t really care.

And a silly photo she got.

Natasha

You were always trying your best to keep whatever child was currently bedbound inside her clinic entertained, never leaving their side until they had long fallen asleep. And while Natasha appreciated it, the sight of you and the children causing her heart to melt each time, you fell asleep while leaned against the bed more than once.

In such moments Natasha would have loved to carry you to bed, the floor being a lot colder than a blanket, but that would only wake you from your dreams, something she didn’t want to be responsible for after seeing you take such good care of others. And so all she was able to do was cover you with a blanket of your own before making a mental note to repay you the following day

Pela

While you always indulged Pela in her hobbies, her requests of painting a picture of you always fell on deaf ears, you always finding a reason or excuse for her not to, too embarrassed by the idea of being painted. So finding you asleep like this was like a godsent. Locking the room to make sure you didn’t slip away before she got her notebook and pens from her room, Pela made sure to return quickly before beginning while you were still asleep.

After all, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Qingque

While she had been sent to find you by Fu Xuan herself, you having reportedly been sent to get something from the abandoned storage, only to not return, her boss ought to have thought twice before picking Qingque for the task of retrieving you. So when she eventually found you, having nodded off on an old couch in one of the corners of the building, the prolific slacker couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it looked. And while many would have felt ashamed for even thinking about sitting down next to you and closing their eyes for five minutes while on work, Qingque had no such inhibitions.

It didn’t sound like Fu Xuan needed you that urgently, so it wasn’t like she was going to get fired for this… probably.

Serval

When Serval found you slumped over one of the desks in her workshop, passed out from what seemed to be exhaustion as the mechanism you had tried solving these past couple of days lay next to you, not much closer to completion than it seemed yesterday, she couldn’t help but smile at your dedication to the craft, or so was the reason she would have given if she wasn’t having difficulties retaining her composure at the sight of your sleeping face

A part of her wanted to squeeze you till you popped, or at the very least displayed signs of doing so, finding what she saw in front of her as adorable as a puppy, yet she decided against as much as touching you. Neither wishing to wake you up nor to accidentally breaking one of your bones. She needed you in her audience after all.

Tingyun

If you had been Ying Juan, Tingyun’s next course of action would have been as clear as the sky on a sunny day. Snap a few pictures to sell to all kinds of Fangirls and make a quick buck. But considering you weren’t anywhere as popular and she had her qualms about the idea of anyone else getting to see you sleeping this peacefully, her conscience beat out the businesswoman inside of her.

That being said, just because she wasn’t going to let anyone else see you like this, didn’t mean she was going to let this opportunity for a nice photo slip, pulling out her phone as taking a picture in one swoop before putting it back and once again walking out of the room, making sure to close the door behind her.

[0wldn0]

Look you can't give us Earthspark Stunticons without giving us your take on this version of their characters. I wanna know what gets carried over, what's different, how would they, hypothetically, interact with the rest of the cast? Are they stuck on Cybertron while breakdowns on earth? How'd that reunion go?

I love it all so much I must know more! 😍

AHH this ask makes me so happy!! Bless you so very much! 😭 I just love the Stunticons so so much and there's so much I wish we could've seen when it comes to them!! Honestly, I was just going to be drawing them and leave it at that but... they have been occupying my thoughts for the last week and I ended up creating a whole Earthspark AU with them 🫠 ((I'm open to suggestions when it comes to naming the AU!!)) I really adore their origins in G1 so I took most of my ideas from there!! I have all of these paragraphs written about how they reacted when they were first given sparks by Megatron, how their psychological issues started, how these issues affected their teamwork and affected the mind of the Menasor when they combined, how they learned to cope with their issues, each of their individual journeys on getting better at understanding themselves, and then later on understanding each other, accepting one another as who they are and lending a helping hand whenever one of them needs it!! Gosh, so much to talk about when it comes to them!!

With the way I ended up giving them all their own backstories, I ended up kind of OC-fying them 😅But still did my best to stay loyal to their origins in G1! Additionally I wanted to do something with Earthspark's concept of "family" so I wanted these guys to become a family in the end too! ((Especially making Motormaster go through a huge character arc where in the end she treats the Stunticons more like a family! While also keeping her distance from them both physically and emotionally because she thinks she doesn't have the right to get into their personal spaces after everything she put them through)) I could talk about them for hours honestly!! I wanna do more drawings and doodles of them! I dream of writing down all my thoughts in a fanfiction one day, but I'm not sure if that will be a reality... So I may just share my ideas bit by bit in different art posts!! Also yes!! The rest of the Stunticons ended up being separated, with Breakdown being the only one on Earth! Motormaster tried to reach for him but unfortunately she wasn't fast enough to do so before the only entrance got blown up. It leaves the rest of the Stunticons in a weird place, they *just* learned to accept each other and work on their issues together, and now one of them is gone, and they aren't sure if he is even alive! But they don't repeat the same mistakes of the past and stick together instead, ignoring everything about Cybertron until they find BD. Meanwhile Breakdown, when he's first separated from them, has a moment where his paranoia almost overwhelms him again, like in the past. But he manages to calm himself and focus, finding ways to survive on Earth along with other Decepticons. Even though he commits dangerous acts and constantly seeks adrenaline ((joining races all around the world etc)) in an attempt to cope. When they do reunite, it is a happy reunion! With the rest of the Stunticons gathering around BD and celebrating!! Of course, Motormaster still keeps her distance, but if you watch closely, you can see the very small and shaky sigh that she lets out.

[holymaccaronii]

AAAAAH okay okay, I decided myself to share 2 things in one in this post: the lore of my ihnmaims AU + a design I’m working on. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I’ll want to develop this AU into a fic or anything like that, but for now I’ll use it as an excuse to draw and design characters. Note that I might come back to this post and edit the lore paragraph, as it is still a work in progress, though I am liking where this is going. Please PLEASE excuse my English, some things might not make sense without me noticing, but I tried describing the plot the best I could. *Ahem*, now, the lore:

“PLAN B”

The lore takes place after the bad ending in the videogame where the player is turned into the worm, yet still doesn’t allow AM to access and torture the humans sealed in the moon colony. Since the last humans had “failed” their mission to defeat AM, a “Plan B” was scheduled to happen. Unbeknownst to the humans of the colony, another AI was created and implanted within the moon, taking up almost all of the space in its core due to its large size. This machine had the sole purpose of ensuring the survival of those humans once AM was defeated, or not. Inside it were millions of plant seeds, animal embryos and frozen samples that would later be used to repopulate the earth, yet it also had defense and destruction technologies to be used in case AM was not defeated. This machine was perfectly calibrated to be able to overcome any adversity that arose, but of course, all that changed when one of the humans managed to wake up and leave their capsule. This human got to understand what all of this was about, though they did not like where this was heading one tiny bit, thus they used the time they had left before the last human on Earth was killed to change and mess it all up. Humanity's greed had claimed yet another victim, as this AI was torn apart piece by piece until it was completely separated and rebuilt into an insane amount of sentient robot models as the years passed. This human managed to transform their own body as well, rebuilding it just as a sacred temple in order to be crowned monarch of this new society now living in a city on the moon. Despite all this, the goal of bringing humanity back still remained, now with the small condition that this human had to be considered a savior and supreme leader to all. Once the last human on Earth had died, robotic troops began to be sent to Earth to study it in detail and plan attacks against AM’s systems, which were disadvantageously located deep underground. Many of these attacks resulted in large unnecessary losses as these robots were not calibrated to combat AM, but they still continued to upgrade themselves to increase their damage range over time. This continued on as a seemingly endless war that barely progressed.

Again, I am aware that maybe some stuff might not make sense (or maybe it does?), but this is basically a continuation of what happened canonically in the videogame. The name “PLAN B” also makes reference to my OC BE, thought that was cool :p. I’ll explain the events that happen here later on as well.

Many if not all of the robots I’ll design will include a whole lotta exposed wires + their outer shell/ body parts, as I liked this dynamic, and it will be important later. The “monarch” that I mentioned in the paragraph is turning out to be this guy down here. I based myself off from those ceramic sun decorations, and thought it would be cool to make his face switchable. In reality they have a body too but I jus like wire amalgamations too much + they’re easy to draw. I’ll continue workin on em :-)

Edit: [THIS LORE IS NOT UPDATED]

[sopfiista]

Perfect Ending

WARNINGS!! -- Angst (not like Gege), mentions of death, death, mentions of depression, kinda just sad all over

Life seemed to flash before your eyes. Cold winter months with Geto, mugs full of hot chocolate, bundled up in thick blankets as you two chatted away, remembering the old times when you first started Jujutsu High.

Beautiful spring mornings with Shoko, online shopping for pretty floral dresses for Instagram photos you two could post with one another, finding the cutest sandals and big bows for your hair.

Summer months spent with Gojo as the two of you played with water guns and threw water balloons at each other. As Geto and Shoko watched, laughing loudly as you screamed, Gojo’s water balloon splattering all over your favorite shirt.

Those were the days. You missed them so dearly. You wished you could go back. A small smile tugged on your face. How could you forget?

Last fall- the fall you met the wonderful trio. Megumi, Nobara… and Yuji. Yuji was like a little light in this horrible world, yet he doesn’t know how destructive he is. Like a ticking time bomb. Yet, he was confident that he would be okay.

And that same fall, your life seemed to break apart. That fall, you went on a mission, being wished good luck from friends and off you went, with Nanami, to go and figure out the disruption a few cities away.

That was the day you lost your last string to stay in this world. The things you’ve seen that day- it still made a shiver go down your spin, sprouting goosebumps over your skin. The day you lost mobility.

Blood, crying, and searing hot pain in your legs was all you really remembered… and a small part of you breaking. You couldn’t go on from there.

You had already spiraled into some sort of depression, ever since around this time last year, but you kept a high head for your friends, family, and for your own sake. You couldn’t carry the burden of this anymore.

How sad. It was horrible to know that he was going to be the ending of this earth. You sighed, pulling a hand through your messy hair, pulling through the small tangles that had accumulated.

Your pen made neat writing onto the small slip of paper on your desk. Not too far stood a gun. It was soon to be your demise.

Why were you doing this? Why did you have to come to an end?

You felt a tear slip down your face and drop onto the paper. Why were you crying? There wasn’t a reason to cry… you were finally getting your release. You’ve already had a bounty over your head for millions of yen… Why should you be crying?

You read through your note, each paragraph specifically for each person. You sobbed softly, reading over Gojo’s little letter, separate from him…

You glanced at the gun a few feet away from you, your hands shaking as you wheeled yourself to the dresser, a large mirror covering the doors of your closet. You wanted your last vision to be yourself.

As you glanced over your face, a small sprout of joy seemed to bloom in your chest. You were pretty. Who knew you were pretty? Why did you care for your looks so much? You were gorgeous- almost too stunning for anyone to say otherwise. Your skin was perfect, your eyes were pretty, your cheeks seemed to mold perfectly with the shape of your face…

You were stunning.

Sighing softly, you glanced at your letters.

Gojo’s sat open on your desk. You knew he would be arriving soon.

I’ve never been more proud to consider you my only family in this cruel, fucked up world. I hope you live your best years after this. I love you, brother.

Pulling the gun to your head, you felt the cold steel of the barrel touch your temple.

You took a deep breath in, feeling your heartbeat rapidly.

You could hear soft footsteps come your way, the normal coo of your name making your head fog. He was here already?

3… you sighed softly

2… the steps came closer, the normal sing-song voice of Gojo making you smile

1… maybe he was the perfect thing to look at last. Maybe he was your last look on earth before you left it

“Hey, are you gonna answer me, stupid?” The normal tuft of white hair came into view, looking at you with those pretty diamond eyes. He had made that promise- to never wear that stupid headband over his eyes… just for you.

BANG!

Hopefully, he wouldn't hate you for this.

[brotrustmeicanwrite]

How do you balance maintaining a consistent writing routine?

Oh boi if only I could actually do that. Ok here we go~

Writing Creating Consistently

Creating consistently is one of the biggest challenges for any creative out there, not just writers. But despite so many people experiencing the same exact problem there is no universal solution. And the reason for that is simple: every person is different and the reason behind their struggles are just as diverse as humanity itself. For some it’s just difficulty keeping a habit alive, for others it’s circumstances of life and for people like me it can even just be their neuro-type.

But it’s not like there’s nothing you can do. So, here are two ideas to try to write more consistently, for both the organised and the chaotic:

Journaling +

This idea works best for those who don’t struggle too much to keep a habit alive or those who already journal or do something similar regularly anyway. Basically all you do is add a daily writing task to your routine. It can be anything like writing a short paragraph, working on character details or even just researching something. What exactly you do doesn’t matter as long as you’re doing something. But the most important thing to keep in mind is to keep the task tiny.

Once we start doing something, more often than not, much more will follow naturally. But if we make the task too big, we risk ending up dreading it. For that reason, your daily task should be something easy that can be done in no more than 5 minutes. That way you’ll get the satisfaction of doing something almost every day and don’t disappoint and demotivate yourself with piled up days of being unable to fullfill your goals.

Tiny Book

This technique works best for the more chaotic (and/or audhd) type and is the one I personally use for both writing and art. The basic idea of this technique is to simply always have something on you to catch your random bursts of inspiration throughout the day. For most people this will probably be their smartphone and maybe one of those cheap mini pens with the rubber stylus at the end. If you don’t like the notes app or just writing stuff down in a text document (or a hundred separate ones) here’s some apps that I use(d in the past):

Obsidian - very similar to a notes app, except you can link documents and build your own little Wikipedia. Including the clickable links within text and all.

Concepts - gives you an infinite canvas to take notes and draw stuff like mind maps. You’ll need a stylus for this one if you don’t want to write with your fingers. There are in app purchases but you really don’t need them and I’m using the free version with no problems too.

Campfire Blaze - (also as website) is specifically built to plan and share your writing projects. It has a lot of pre built functions to plan characters, maps, lore, magic systems etc.

Story Plotter - very similar to campfire except the focus is on structuring your story. A lot of people swear by it but I personally can’t give much more details because it just isn’t my style of program.

If you’re more of the traditional type though, get yourself a small notebook to always (and I mean always) carry around. Preferably a durable one that fits in your pocket and has a loop for a pencil. Also I recommend using a short technical pencil with an eraser at the end to avoid having to carry that and a sharpener around. Remember, we want the most comfortable quick and easy access so it doesn’t become a hassle to always have access to your materials.

On that note,

Why oh why, IKEA, did you stop making those cute but sturdy notebooks? That’s it, we’re breaking up. Søstrene Grene, you’re my new paper supply girlfriend. You may be more dainty and delicate, less sturdy than Ikea, but at least you’re there for me.

Ok but seriously, tip for the artists: søstrene grene has those teeny tiny blank books with really nice paper (easy 100+ pages) that fit into even a women’s front pocket and are perfect for quick thumbnailing. Just make sure to enforce the binging by putting some washi tape ore sum around the edges and glue it down on the backing bc they fall apart easily.

Anyway

Happy writing creating <3

[techs-goggles9902]

Two Souls Entwined

part 3 eventual Captain Rex x oc

A/N: sorry for the wait! life's been... life. Open to criticism, as always! LMK if you wanna join/be taken off the tag list. And sorry if it feels rushed 😭

The second to last paragraph of italics is directly from Triple Zero by Karen Traviss and I don’t take credit for it I just thought it would be a cool addition and help set the mood

word count: 812 (apparently? I thought I wrote more)

The Mandalorian Medics helped Niva the best they could, physically. Nothing could help her recover from what happened; watching her father, her buir, die right in front of her, and she could do nothing. 

Kal shifted his weight from his right foot onto his left, his shattered ankle screaming at him. His sand colored beskar’gam reflects the sun just right that there appears to be a halo encircling his body, the light at the end of the tunnel for Niva. He waited outside the medical tent for a while with his arms crossed, pacing back and forth every once in a while. 

Poor girl…

The medic - Gale? - pushes aside the tent flap and walks out onto the firm ground of Central Mandalore’s terrain. Gale looks at Kal, giving him a small reassuring smile and nod. “Did my best, Skirata. She’ll make it.” 

“That…That’s great. Any permanent damage?” Kal asks, his brow furrowing. 

“None that I can see… You know, she has a lot of Cabur in her. Just like her buir, eh?” Gale grins, patting Kal’s shoulder, and walks over to the center of the camp, talking with his vode.  

Kal’s footfalls are nearly silent as he slips through the tent flaps. The tent is dim, a small lantern illuminates a small area by Niva’s bedside. A thin, portable, wooden floor is all that separates Niva’s little sleeping bag from the dense clay soil. 

Thick gauze is wrapped around her sternum, cords and wires hang from tabs on her wrists and chest. The heavy, cloying scent of bacta fills the tent. Kal glances at Niva’s half open duffel bag, which she insisted Kal take with them. 

“Why is it so cold?” Niva’s quiet voice fills the tent. Kal laughs, coming over to sit on the floor beside her. 

“We’re in Central Mandalore. Up north, ad’ika,” Kal says, the nickname flowing off his tongue so naturally. He fixes the blanket lazily draped over Niva. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

“How did Buir die? He always gets into fights… Why did this one kill him?”

Kal sighs, “Gale, the medic, told me that his rib punctured his heart. You know, ad’ika, even if you’re in the safest, toughest box in the entire galaxy and you’re hit tons of times, that doesn’t mean being rattled up in that box can’t hurt you.” 

Niva looks away, blinking back tears; her long lashes clumping together from the wetness. 

“And why am I alive?” She asks. 

“That little necklace, made of pure beskar. The blast hit you between the collarbones, but that little scrap of iron saved your life, ad’ika.” That does it for Niva. Her eyes brim with tears, her throat begins to tighten. The heavy feeling of grief, loneliness, survivors guilt, all coming back to her. 

“Buir g-gave me that…” 

“I… I’m sorry, ad’ika. You know… I lost my dad, too. Before becoming a mando, that is,” Kal whispers, carefully adjusting one of Niva’s many curls. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The two quietly talk together, Kal telling Niva about the origin of his three sided knife in exchange for Niva telling him about her necklace, the metal tree now bent at an awkward angle. 

“Do you have any other family?” Kal asks after a while. 

Niva doesn’t respond right away, only looking to a corner of the tent instead. She says softly, “No.” That’s the biggest lie she’s ever told, but she can’t go back to that village. An already unstable woman, now grieving the loss of her husband… Not a good mix. 

“Alright… You can stay with me, if you-”

“Please, can I, Kal?” Niva cuts him off, her wide green eyes staring intensely into Kal’s.

“‘Course, ad’ika. Anything,” 

Two years later. 

Kamino was damp. No, it was more than damp: it was nothing but storm-whipped sea from pole to pole. The air smelled more like a hospital than a military base. 

Niva, now 16, steps close to the window separating the corridor she and Kal’buir are currently waiting in and the vast chamber of what looked to be large toroids stacked on wide pillars. 

In the past two years, Kal became Niva’s surrogate father, showing his love by telling her to call him Kal’buir - Papa Kal. He could never replace Cabur as her father, they both knew that. Yet the empty, painful hole left in Niva’s heart was slowly filled in by the presence of her Papa Kal. 

This was a mistake. Taking Niva, of all people, here. We might not leave for… For years! Jango’s gonna owe me s-

“Kal’buir… Look at the towers,” Niva says, interrupting Kal’s thoughts. 

“I don’t see anything, ad’ika.”  

“No, k’olar. Closer.” 

Kal sighs and steps beside Niva, who’s nearly as tall as him, although that isn’t saying much since he’s shorter than the average man. 

“There’s… There’s babies in those tubes, Kal…” 

Glossary & Pronunciation

Beskar'gam - Mandalorian armor [bes-car-gum] (I think). Buir - dad/mom [boo-ear] Vode - brothers/sisters/comrades [vod-ay]. (I think) Ad'ika - little one, son, daughter of any age [ah-dee-kah] Beskar - Mandalorian iron [bes-car] Kal'buir - Papa Kal [Kal-boo-ear] K'olar - come here [ko-lar]

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @hellhound5925 @skellymom @dangraccoon @the-rain-on-kamino(<- maybe you're interested?)

dividers by @saradika

[pr0j3ct-3t3rn1ty]

twomp headcanons :3

hii stupids /lh :3 first post on one of my sideblogs so uh yea :D

this is mercury btw

making this my main twomp acc

ANYGAYS here are some headcanons for you all :3

long paragraphs ahead

☆ argos REALLY loves stars, whenever they're visible mr plant takes him to the park to see them

☆ whenever argos sees a really pretty flower small enough, he puts it in his hair to remind him of mr plant (and ofc, none of the pretty flowers could compare to his beloved bf <3)

☆ like some plants on earth, mr plant bleeds red sap (cuz its the closest resemblance to blood) i was originally gonna do white sap but i slowly realised how bad that would look if he bled.. cuz sap is sticky too.. EUGHH ANYWAYS

☆ mr plant has separation anxiety. whenever argos has to go to work his petals go stiff and he has a panic attack. if argos has to stay the whole night babysitting mr plant gets really bad nightmares. ofc when argos gets home he makes sure to try his best to calm mr plant down. it usually doesnt take much, just his presence. sometimes it gets so bad that he cant even sleep w/out argos. sometimes not even the sound of argos's voice is enough. he got super scared when he lost argos in "mr plant sees the stars".

☆ mr plant will always let argos ramble about his new plants to him- obv, the babbling flower did it for him.. big meanie. mr plant enjoys listening to argos get so happy about his plants.

☆ argos got rid of the spore mushroom. just an obvious one here.

☆ most of the time when argos murders, he doesnt even realise he's doing it. once he's done and he regains his thoughts, he gets super upset about it. he goes to mr plants void and explains it to him. mr plant always helps argos clean up the mess.

☆ mr plant can almost never control his violent urges. argos usually calms them down, and when he doesnt its abt mr flower.

☆ whenever mr plant doesnt kill anyone for a day, argos gives him a sticker for good job. he adds it to his sticker collection. he's saving them so he can wear them all at once.

☆ mr plant doesnt hate touch, at times he enjoys it, and at others he doesnt. you can never tell. unless hes js had/in the middle of a panic attack. then he needs it.

[symphonyofsilence]

I am ready for the conversation about WWX crushing on JGY. Please elaborate 👉👈

I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!

Finally the day has come! Here we go!

First of all, this flirting here as JGY has a guqin string to WWX's throat! WWX My man may be discovering new kinks! The chemistry is off the charts! LWJ & LXC wished they could flirt like this!

"I think it's best if Young Master Wei stops right there. It's nothing if your flute's broken, but if your tongue or your fingers went missing, it'd be such a shame."

Wei WuXian immediately put his hand away, agreeing, "You make so much sense."

The person, "May I request your company?"

Wei WuXian nodded, "You're too polite,Sect Leader Jin."

Jin GuangYao smiled, "It's my pleasure."

Wei WuXian, "LianFang-Zun, you hid quite a big land deed in the secret chamber of Fragrant Palace, right beside my manuscripts. Don't you remember?"

Jin GuangYao, "Oh, that would be my fault. I should've put them separately."

Wei WuXian, "Right now, we won't be able to run from your grasp no matter what, so could you perhaps tell me just what a creature is being suppressed in this Guanyin Temple, LianFang-Zun, and quench my curiosity a bit?"

Jin GuangYao smiled, "Quenching your curiosity doesn't come at a low price. Young Master Wei, are you sure you'd like to try?"

Wei WuXian, "Oh. On second thought, then, nevermind."

(This whole interaction is even fruitier in the live-action)

He smiled, "Because that's what kind of a person you are. At best, you're the untamed hero; at worst, you offend people wherever you go. Unless all those whom you've offended lived their lives safely, as soon as something happened to them or someone did something to them, the first person they suspect would be you and the first person they seek revenge on would also you. And this is something you have no control over." Somehow, Wei WuXian smiled, "What should I do? For some reason, I think make a lot of sense."

Nothing like accepting and understanding your favorite homme Fatale's choice of bringing your downfall 'cause he just makes so much sense what you gonna do!😊 🤷🏻‍♀️

The way JGY is described:

Wei WuXian, on the other hand, carefully observed the chief cultivator of all sects.

Jin GuangYao was born with quite an advantageous face. His skin was fair, and he had a vermillion mark embellished on his forehead. His pupils were distinct against the whites of the eyes, appearing lively but not frivolous. His features appeared rather clean, attractive yet also ingenious. The shadow of a smile that always perched by the corners of his lips, and his brows, revealed at once his clever character. Such a face was enough to earn the love of women, but still wouldn't evoke the vigilance or aversion of men; the elderly would think of him as sweet, while the young would think of him as amicable. Even if one didn't like him, they definitely wouldn't hate him either, which was why his face was "advantageous". Although his figure was a bit small, his calm demeanor was more than enough to make up for it. Donning a cap made of black gauze, he wore the LanlingJin Sect's formal uniform, a blooming Sparks Amidst Snow crest over the front of his round-collared robe. With a nine-ringed belt at his waist, liuhe boots at his feet, and a right hand pressing down on the hilt of the sword hung by his side, he let out a powerful aura of inviolability.

Like LWJ is described in one paragraph ending with "mourning clothes" and JGY is described for a whole page with WWX going on and on about how you get some sort of feeling looking at him...EVERYONE! man and woman, young and old catch some sort of feeling basking in JGY's charm & beauty. (But he's being nonchalant about it...'cause ofc he doesn't have a crush...)

The unnecessary shade WWX throws at poor QS:

At this point, with a woman dressed in lavish robes by his arm, Jin GuangYao stepped into the room. Although the woman seemed rather dignified, a trace of innocence was blended into her expression. Even her graceful features appeared somewhat childlike. This was the official wife of Jin GuangYao, the mistress of Carp Tower-Qin Su.

descendents of prominent clans. Qin Su as the beloved daughter of Qin CangYe. Her personality was naive, but she had lived a comfortable life and was taught excellent manners.

Fortunately, although Qin Su had always seemed innocently ignorant since a young age, even to the point of being somewhat dense, she didn't trust Jin GuangYao anymore. She stared blankly at Jin GuangYao

I can't remember, and searched & couldn't find who it was that pointed out that the situation with NMJ had escalated so bad that the only way left for Jiggy was to murder him, and yet at the slightest, most desperate, most basic attempt at de-escalation that JGY shows WWX is BLOWN AWAY! Like: JGY: "Sry, Da-ge. My bad." WWX:

JGY is just trying to live another day without getting murdered by Da-ge and WWX is like Jin Guangyao is a master manipulator.

Jin GuangYao sighed, "HuaiSang is used to being spoiled, but he can't be Qinghe's idle Second Young Master for his whole life. One day he'll realize that you're doing this for him, Brother, just like how I realized that you're doing this for me."

Wei WuXian, Bravo, bravo. I wouldn't be able to say such words even if given two lifetimes, but Jin GuangYao can adjust his tone so that it doesn't sound strange at all. It even sounds a bit pleasing to the ears.

WWX taking a moment in the middle of QS's intense breakdown, crying, screaming, throwing up, pulling at her hair to remind us that Jin Guangyao is serving:

He was her husband. As of right now, under the candlelight, he looked as calm and as picturesque as ever.

Like...not now king .QS is having a moment here. Keep it in your pants for now. the last person who was horny for JGY is not yet done having her breakdown so you can walk in like that Theresa May meme and say that you'll take it from here!

What he most sees of Jin Guangyao is through Da-ge's eyes. Which are very horny eyes to look at JGY with. And it SHOWS.

The boy's figure was on the smaller side. He had fair skin and dark brows, precisely those favor-gaining features of Jin GuangYao.

When asshole Nie soldiers trash talk MY:

A flame of anger sprout within Nie MingJue's heart, burning all the way into Wei WuXian.

Wearing a gauze gap, he was almost beyond recognition. As handsome as ever, his cleverness was the same, yet his air was calmer that it had ever been.

The whole Wen Yao scene speaks for itself.

His chemistry with Xue Yang was unrivaled and JGY reminds WWX of Xue Yang:

recalling a certain someone as he watched how Jin GuangYao smiled and batted his eyes even as he fought. He whispered, "He really is the same as Xue Yang."

He admires JGY:

In these types of games, the head of all cultivators, LianFang-Zun, who was currently the most successful of all, was of course the most popular character. Although his family background was a bit disgraceful, the fact that he later climbed to such a rank was precisely why people respected him. During the Sunshot Campaign, he skillfully worked undercover for the QishanWen Sect, deceiving all of the Wen Sect's people to a point that a tremendous amount of information were disclosed, yet they knew nothing. After the Sunshot Campaign, with flattery, wit, and countless other methods, he finally became the Chief Cultivator, fully deserving of the title. Such a life could even be considered a legend. If he was playing, he'd also want to try being Jin GuangYao.

It wasn't difficult to understand why Lan XiChen defended this person. To be honest, even Wei WuXian himself didn't have a terrible opinion of the person they were suspicious of. Perhaps because of his background, he had always treated others with kindness and humility. He was the type of person who never offended anyone, the type who could make everyone around him feel comfortable talking to him, let alone ZeWu-Jun, who had been friends with him for years.

Jiang Cheng smirked, "Don't carry your sword, then. It doesn't matter. But don't provoke Jin ZiXuan from now on. He's Jin Guangshan's only son, after all. The future leader of the LanlingJin Sect will be him. If you beat him up, what should I, the sect leader, do? Beat him up with you? Or punish you?" Wei WuXian, "Isn't Jin GuangYao here now? Jin GuangYao seems so much better than him."

Jin Ling quickly tugged at the back hems of Jin GuangYao's robe. Jin GuangYao seemed as though he had been born to resolve conflicts,

Jin GuangYao could remember the name, title, age, and appearance of a person after just one encounter. Even after a few years, he'd be able to greet them without any fault, often carrying out solicitous conversations as well. If he had seen someone more than twice, he'd remember all of their likes and dislikes, therefore able to cater to their needs.

"With Jin Ling's temper, he offends other people whenever he opens his mouth, he pokes at the hornet's nest whenever he raises his hand. Your sect's JingYi calls him Young Mistress-well, he's right. The many times before this, if it weren't for how we protected him, he'd have no lives left. Jiang Cheng isn't at all someone who knows how to teach children. Jin GuangYao, on the other hand..."

(Now he's just going around attributing random capabilities such as the ability to raise a fully functional child to a man he's met only a handful of times 13 years ago as though he fully believes there's nothing he can't do.)

thinking, When Jin GuangYao saw the strange paperman and saw Suibian being unsheathed, he must've guessed who I was right there. And so he quickly made up a series of lies, causing Qin Su to take her own life, and then purposely force me to the cabinet with Suibian inside so that I could unsheath my sword and reveal my identity. Scary, scary. Who could've known that his reaction was so fast and his lies so flawless?

When Jin GuangYao lied, it really was unashamed and full of vigor! As others heard this, of course they'd think that Mo XuanYu had slandered LianFang-Zun and caused Madam Jin to take her own life since he held hatred toward him. Even Wei WuXian couldn't think of anything to say in refutation. What could he say? How he saw Nie MingJue's head? How he snuck into the secret room? The name of the person whom Qin Su saw before she died? The odd letter that could easily be argued as fictitious and fabricated? Such refutation would only make him look even more suspicious!

Under the shock and the terror, he spoke as though his words flew, fearing that Nie MingJue might start chopping before he could even finish his explanation. Despite this, his explanation still had clear logic. Every sentence was highlighting how horrible the others were, how poor he himself was.

Immediately after it were Jin ZiXuan's murals. Usually, in order to signify their absolute power, sect leaders would purposely lessen the number of murals for cultivators of their own generation or perhaps switch to an inferior artist, so that they wouldn't be outshone. To these acts, everyone gave silent approval, showing their understanding. However, Jin ZiXuan had four murals as well, unbelievably standing on equal footing as Jin GuangYao. The handsome man in the paintings displayed both pride and vigor.

Jin GuangYao didn't let her down either. Even though he held the important position of Chief Cultivator, his behavior was drastically different from his father's. He never took in any concubines, much less had a relationship with any other woman. This was indeed something that many wives of sect leaders envied.

He kins JGY:

And so, the waves of criticism began:

"Who knew this person could be so ungrateful and immoral!"

In the past few years, the words 'ungrateful' and 'immoral' were almost tied to Wei WuXian. At first, he even thought that they were criticizing him again. He only realized afterwards that even though it was the same people using the same words, the object of their criticism had already changed. He felt a bit not used to it.

Wei WuXian felt that things were rather comical, If they're rumors, why the hurry to believe them? If they're secrets, why would you come to know them?

These rumors didn't happen in just the one day. However, in the past, when Jin Guangyao was popular, they were suppressed quite well. Almost nobody took them seriously. Yet, tonight, all of the rumors seemed to have become absolute truths, forming the rocks and bricks of Jin GuangYao's supposedly-committed crimes, proving his lack of morality.

Wei WuXian immediately felt a bit speechless. The last time others praised him like this was during the Sunshot Campaign more than ten years ago. Although somebody finally inherited his position as being the enemy of the entire cultivation world, Wei WuXian didn't feel happiness at such an end, much less any warmth from finally being accepted by everyone.

He only doubted in silence, Back then, could it have been just like today? A group of people gathered up in a place, began a secret discussion, cursed everything, and finally decided to have a siege on Burial Mound?

But there was no use in saying all that. Nobody knew with more clarity than Wei WuXian that nobody would care and nobody would believe him. Anything related to Jin GuangYao would be given the most malicious conjectures and passed through the mouths of the crowd

They're narrative parallels, similar in every way, even in their relationship with twin jades and it's very sexy of them!

The crush thing aside, (I wasn't entirely serious about it. Just saying that if you wanna read it that way, the things are there. But he does admire JGY & the chemistry is certainly there) He barely even registers JGY as an antagonist in his story (he even resignedly admits that he would have sooner or later angered someone and got killed anyway even if JGY did nothing). He even confronts NHS, who brought him back to life about what he did to Meng Shi's body. We've seen how WWX treats the other antagonists of his story, the way he tortures Wen Chao & Wang Lingjiao, and other Wens to death, the way he raises dead Wens to kill their kin, the way he doesn't even remember Jin Zixun's name, or take SMS seriously. But what JGY gets is respect, both in general and in that he was a worthy player in their game (that wasn't even THEIR game), and understanding & sympathy.

[fraeuleintaka]

Thoughts about the official Investigations 2 Localisation

This is the 16th post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 65 days left until release!

Today's topic: Some thoughts about the official localisation of Investigations 2!

I already mentioned this in my very first countdown post and how amazing it is that we finally get Investigations 2 officially released in the West after 13 years but I think this important event requires a whole separate post to talk about some more.

While the response to this announcement is overwhelmingly positive I've also seen some expressing mixed feelings about it (especially the new names of some main character which I will get to in another post). And I get it. The fan translation is truly amazing and many of us have been experiencing the game that way for 10 years, grown attached to the characters with these names and fell in love with the way certain scenes are written. Finally getting an official localisation is a dream come true and I love that many more people will have access to playing the best game in the series. I'm looking forward to comparing the new localisation with the fan translation and seeing everything they did differently (or even the same) but I'm also just a tiny little bit hesitant to see certain things and details that I've loved about the game be changed or even disappear entirely.

[Spoiler warning for Investigations 2 in the next paragraph]

Completely disregarding the different names, for example, I wonder how the official localisation will handle Blaise' speech pattern. I don't know Japanese myself but I've read that in the original he has a somewhat youthful/casual way of speaking which contrasts with his power and appearance. The fan translation carried this over by having him frequently add phrases like "y'see" or "y'know" at the end of his sentences. Will the official localisation do something similar? Or ignore it? Will Blaise also frequently call Sebastian an "idiot" or will they choose a different insult? Will Sebastian refer to him as "pops"? Which phrases/words will Sebastian misuse and how? Or other details, will the foreshadowing of Simon's name by de Killer stay? Will the president's speech also have the double meaning of implying the start of Simon's revenge scheme kicking off? Will Blaise' comment to Sebastian trying to stand up to him in I2-5 have similarly dark implications? Will Miles also start referring to Sebastian by first name during I2-3 and imply their similar origins at the end of the case? What will the name of the P.I.C. or the Grand Tower be and what will the cases be called?

There are so many small things I love about Investigations 2's script as I've experienced it through the fan translation. I don't doubt that the official localisation could even improve upon it and make some characters or scenes work even better but I am a little bit afraid of losing some of these wonderful details or having them replaced by a version I like less.

In the end, I'm incredibly excited about seeing what the official localisation does with the best game in the series and I can't imagine it being overall "worse" than the fan translation. In some ways it's going to be fascinating to see two slightly different versions of the same epic story and how the different translators approached the trickier things. And no matter what the official localisation ends up doing, the fan translation will always stay close to my heart. I don't think anything could completely replace it at this point with how long I've loved the game in this version. I'm open for the changes the official localisation makes and I'm sure I'll love it just the same but I think some part of me will always hold on to the fan translation in my heart.

[crackspinewornpages]

The Bridge of San Luis Rey 5/5 -Thornton Wilder

PART FOUR 

UNCLE PIO 

In one of her letters the Marquesa tries to describe the impression Uncle Pio left on her, the most delightful man in the world, second to her son in law. If he weren't disreputable she’d make him her secretary, but he is such bad company she has to leave him to the underworld. “Alas, what is the matter with this world, my soul, that it should treat such a being so ill! His eyes are as sad as those of a cow that has been separated from its tenth calf.”p.91 

Uncle Pio was Camila’s maid, singing master, coiffeur, masseur and everything, even her father. He taught her parts so well people thought she could read and write and gave her flowery small parts so memorization wouldn't be a trouble during the height of the season. Camila made her reputation at the theatre and appeared in a hundred plays of Lope de Vega. No better actress at the time, really, the best in the Spanish world, only Uncle Pio saw it. 

Uncle Pio came illegitimately from a Castilian house and at ten ran away to Madrid, living by his wits and attributes of an adventurer. (he’s a jack of all trades book and street smart and has a freedom from conscience) For five years he distributed handbills, held horses and ran errands, for the next five he trained animals for circuses, cooked and whispered information to travelers and spread slander. The next ten years his services were recognized in high circles, and he was sent out to inspire rebellions in the mountains in time for the government to arrive and crush it.  

Despite promise of gains he never did anything for more than two weeks, “But there seemed to have been written into his personality, through some accident or early admiration of his childhood, a reluctance to own anything, to be tied down, to be held to a long engagement.”p.94 The lack of gains is what stopped him from being a thief, the dread of being locked up, he could escape but not his enemies. (this book has such long paragraphs) Similarly, why he stopped working for the Inquisition, watching his victims be led off that institution wasn't predictable. (well you know what they say no one expects the Spanish Inquisition) 

At twenty his life had three aims, independence, renounce the dignities of public life, always be near beautiful women, it was with them he got the name Uncle Pio. (he was actually decent and kind to them) He wanted to live near those that loved Spanish literature, especially the theatre and he studied it in secret. It was when his life got too complicated to continue in Spain he moved to Peru and proved to be as versatile to Uncle Pio as he was to Europe, within four months he knew practically everyone in Lima. The Viceroy employed him several times but for all his activity he never became rich, he did own a house he filled with dogs and birds. “But even in this kingdom he was lonely, and proud in his loneliness, as though there resided a certain superiority in such a solitude.”p.98 Finally he stumbled upon a treasure, Camila Perichole (her real name is Micaela Villegas) at twelve, singing at a cafe, so he bought her. (I guess you could just do that back then) 

She had a bed in his house, and he wrote songs for her and taught her how to listen to her tone. “At first all she noticed was that it was wonderful not to be whipped, to be offered hot soups, and to be taught something.”p.99 (oh Camila) But really Uncle Pio was dazzled by his experiment, the girl devoured the work as she grew into grace, becoming beautiful and she was loyal to him. “They loved one another deeply but without passion. He respected the slight nervous shadow that crossed her face when he came too near her. But there arose out of this denial itself the performance of a tenderness, that ghost of passion which, in the most unexpected relationship, can make even a whole lifetime devoted to irksome duty pass like a gracious dream.”p.99 

They traveled to America, encountering hardship, finding jobs then a harder course of training, complicated as she rose to favor quickly. To not make the applause go to her head (you failed) Uncle Pio resorted to criticism. (ah the J Jonah Jameson method) After each performance she would gauge his mood and try to force him to admit what he found at fault. The mere suggestion she was insufficient would send her into tears until he commented on what she did wrong and she’d cry more about the performance, applause and ask Pio if being so bad is why he left the theatre. He’d give her a bit of compliments but still criticize, “Only perfection would do, only perfection. And that had never come.”p.102 Then for an hour he’d analyze the play, who were they trying to please, they tormented themselves on the standards of Heaven.  With time Camila lost some absorption and a certain contempt for acting made her negligent due to the lack of interests in women's roles in Spanish classical drama, for years Uncle Pio tried to make her interested in the roles. On one occasion he told her the granddaughter of Vico de Barrera arrived in Peru, he had veneration for great poets between kings and saints, so they chose one of the masters plays to perform for her. After the performance Uncle Pio brought the granddaughter to Camila’s dressing room and Camila threw herself at her feet. Uncle Pio loved it when a new girl joined the company and the new talent bestir  Perichole who set herself to efface the newcomer. Her acting was electric but became less frequent even when she was absentminded the audience didn't notice but Uncle Pio grieved. 

Despite her discontent with her parts Perichole still warmed herself with the flame of joy in acting. “But that of love attracted her more often, through with no greater assurance of happiness, until Jupiter himself sent her some pearls.”p.106 Don Andre de Ribera, the Viceroy of Peru, a delightful man ten years in exile, he was bored. Camila was passing the years with the routine of the theatre when this Olympian suddenly transported her to the palace. “Contrary to all the traditions of the stage and the state she adored her elderly admirer; she thought she was going to be happy forever.”p.107 (how old is the Viceroy cause Camila is like in her early twenties maybe and an uneducated peasant with no family this won’t end well) He taught her the opposite of Uncle Pio who was anxious of Camila’s invitations to the palace preferring he had her love affairs in the theatre warehouse but when he saw her improve he was content. 

After some time the Viceroy asked Camila if she’d like to invite some people to their dinners and if she’d like to meet the Archbishop. The Archbishop loved his duties and was devout to punishing himself for his gluttony, (describes him as fat imprisoned in lard his own jailor) he led an exemplary life in all other aspects. He would learn but then forget all but the impressions and knew most of the priests in Peru were scoundrels and required all his education to prevent himself from doing something about it. “that the injustice and unhappiness in the world is a constant; that the theory of progress is a delusion; that the poor, never having known happiness, one insensible misfortune. Like all the rich he could not bring himself to believe that the poor (look at their houses, look at their clothes) could really suffer.”p.109 (oh he’s that type of religious) Once he almost did something about it, a new rule in Peru for priests to exact two to five meals for good absolution, in indignation he was going to write a letter to his shepherds but could not find ink and was so upset he fell ill. 

His inclusion on the dinners was stressful and Don Andres grew increasingly dependent on Uncle Pio but waited until Camila proposed he join and he invited Alvarado. When Camila arrived at the dinners she’d carry the conversation for hours gradually allowing the men to talk. All night they spoke of longing for Spain, the supernatural, earth before man ecetera. “Each one poured into the conversation his store of wise anecdotes and his dry regret about the race of man.”p.111 In the morning each waited for the other to go first and glance at the sleeping Perichole but Uncle Pio’s were on her all night. “full of tenderness and anxiety, resting on the great secret and reason of his life.”p.112 

Uncle Pio divided the world into two groups, those that did and did not love, those that had no capacity for it were not alive and could not live until after death. His own definition was gathered from his bitterness and pride from his life, a cruel malady youth pass through and emerged wrung but ready for living and never again saw a human being as a mechanical object and it seemed Camila never went through it. For years he waited, even after she bore the Viceroy three children she was the same, her passages of plays were the secret joy now were more cursory as she tired of Don Andres and found new lovers. Now she wanted to be a lady and referred to acting as a pastime, going to church and learning to read a little, becoming virtuous. She made up family and obtained legitimization for her children and carried a candle in penitential parades. “Her sin had been acting and everyone knows that there were even saints who had been actors-”p.114  

Camila’s son Don Jaime was seen and inherited his father's convulsions (epilepsy) and he frequently took walks with his mother. Camila left the stage at thirty and took five years to have a place in society and it was that progress up that told Uncle Pio he’s not to be seen with her in public and even grew impatient with his discreet visits. (so she had a taste of the high life and wants to leave behind her everything that made her who she is while also thinking she’s too good for them including the man who took her in) Finding reasons to quarrel, they were down to once a month and when impossible he’d visit the children. He met her in the French Gardens south of town waiting for Camila, (he was excited to see her be called Uncle Pio reliving their vagabond life) she says it’s Dona Micaela now. He asks that she listen, she refuses to return to the theatre daily insults of that filthy place, he’s wasting his time. She doesn't want his criticisms or advice just give up and put her out of his mind. 

 He pleads with her, they notice she’s not there and the audiences are leaving, no one can speak Spanish or walk correctly anymore. Camila apologizes for her behavior, Jaime was ill but it’ll be no good for her to go back, they were foolish to try to keep alive that Old Comedy. “Let people read old plays in books if they choose to. It is not worth fighting with the crowd.”p.119 (and so the art dies and is forgotten to time) Uncle Pio asks for forgiveness, as for his pride he never gave her the praise she deserved, she might have a chance in Madrid to be famous, she can be Dona Micaela later, they will be old and dead soon. She won’t go to Spain, he’s fifty and still dreaming, of course he loves her more than he can say. “You are a great lady now. And you are rich. There is no longer any way that I can help you. But I am always ready.”p.120 Camila says there’s no such thing as that kind of love in real life, (a girl beaten her whole life then trained to perform for no praise and that her looks were the only thing she had is it any wonder she has this way of thinking) he wasn't convinced and she told him not to try to understand, don’t think about her. “Just forgive, that’s all. Just try to forgive.”p.121 She went away but he sat for a long time trying to understand the meaning of those things.  

Suddenly the news Dona Micaela was Camila Perichole and had smallpox was all over Lima and a hope her beauty that caused her to despise her class would be impaired. As soon as Camila was able she sold her little place, returned her jewels and sold her clothes, but her admirers still sent her gifts. Like all beautiful women she believed it was the basis of attraction and now any attraction was from pity, she had never realized any love but passion. (I say there’s Uncle Pio but he’s more of a hardass that’s bad at expressing himself) The sharpest expression of self-interest, not until it passed through great doubts and self-hatred can it take place among loyalties. As her friends tried to draw her back out she grew angrier, convinced her life was over and her children’s. She gave back more than she owed and now approached poverty to her lonely future. 

Uncle Pio wasn't discouraged, making himself useful lending money but even still Camila was convinced he pitied her and lashed out. “He loved her the more, understanding better than she did herself all the stages in the convalescence of her humiliated spirit.”p.123 But one accident lost him his share in her progress, he opened a door as she tried to conceal her pockmarks, and she yelled at him to leave her house forever. She hurled things at him as she chased him down the hall and gave orders to forbid him from the grounds but he still tried for a week. He eventually returned to Lima and thought of a strategy, he returned to her house and imitated a young girl weeping under her window. (how can a man in his fifties make his voice sound like a little girl) When Camila asked who was there Uncle Pio said he’s Estrella and needs her help when she came out he revealed himself. 

She’s angry he won't leave her alone, she doesn’t want to speak to anyone, her life is over now. He only asks one more thing then he won't bother her again, let him take Don Jaime with him to live a year in Lima as his teacher in the Castilian. No, he’s sick, only the country is healthy for him, Uncle Pio begs he’ll make arrangements, a mother can't be separated from her child like that (if only it was that) now give up thinking about her, she and her children will get by. Uncle Pio used the hard measure and wanted the money she owes him, she’ll pay what she can, he didn’t mean it, he just asks for Jaime, was he such a bad teacher to her. She says it’s cruel to urge gratitude, she was but now there's nothing to be grateful for, if Jaime wishes to go he’ll be at the inn at noon. The next day Jaime was at the inn with little clothes but soon after they left Uncle Pio knew it wouldn't be good for him. As they got to the bridge, “Jaime tried to conceal his shame for he knew that one of those moments was coming that separated him from other people.”p.128 (listen to your gut feelings) Uncle Pio said they’d rest after they crossed but that wouldn't be necessary. 

PART FIVE 

PERHAPS AN INTENTION 

“A new bridge of stone has been built in the place of the old, but the event has not been forgotten.”p.133 (never forget) The tragedy passed into expressions, some poems, anthologies but the real monument is Brother Juniper’s book. (you mean the one no one reads because the only other copy is lost in a library) “There are a hundred ways of wondering at circumstance.”p.133 Brother Juniper arrived at his method from a friendship with a student at the University of San Martin. This students wife left him and two babies for a soldier now he was locked in bitterness and derived joy from all that was wrong in the world. In moments of almost defeat and he would explain why stories like this weren't difficult to believe with so many sneers at faith, Brother Juniper saw that it was time for proof. He took notes on survivors and victims of tragedies for their value sub specie aeternitatis (thanks to analog horror every time I see Latin I instantly think of Vita Carnis) rated on a basis of ten, of goodness, piety and usefulness. (the disabled can go fuck themselves I guess)  It was more difficult than first thought, “Almost every soul in a difficult frontier community turned out to be indispensable economically, and the third column was all but useless.”p.135 Brother Juniper added up the index for each peasant and compared it to the survivors and discovered the bad were five times more worth saving, so Brother Juniper tore up his findings and threw them in the ocean. (your scientific results don’t prove your theory so you just destroy all your work)  “The discrepancy between faith and the facts is greater than is generally assumed.”p.136 Another story from the university student gave Brother Juniper a hint for how to proceed after the fall of the bridge. He was in the Cathedral of Lima and read the epitaph of a well-loved lady and got angry that people perpetuate the legend of selflessness and disinterestedness, so he sought out everyone who knew her and thinks she's just an exception. “And everywhere he went, like a perfume, her dear traits had survived her and whenever she was mentioned there arose a suffering smile and the protest that words could not describe the gracious ways of her.”p.137 

In compiling his book Brother Juniper feared admitting the little details will lose a guiding hint but still couldn't find their setting so he re-read to find hidden facts. People gave conflicting perspectives, and he found there was the least to be learned from those closest to the subjects. “He thought he saw in the same accident, the wicked visited by the destruction and the good called early to Heaven. He thought he saw pride and wealth confounded as an object lesson to the world, and he thought he saw humility crowned and rewarded for the edification of the city. But Brother Juniper was not satisfied with his reasons.”p.138 

After the book was done it was judged to be heretical and ordered to be burned with the author and Brother Juniper submitted the devil made use of him. He spent his last night in his cell seeking his own life pattern that escaped him in the five others and longed for a voice to testify for his intentions were for faith. “But the next morning in all that crowd and sunlight there were many who believed, for he was much loved.”p.139 There was little delegation from the village many stood puzzled as he was given to the flames. “Even then, even then, there remained in his heart an obstinate nerve insisting that at least St Francis would not utterly have condemned him, and (not daring to call upon a greater name, since he seemed so open to error in these matters) he called twice upon St Francis and leaning upon the flame he smiled and died.”p.139 

The day was clear and nice for the service, the Archbisop sweated on his throne, Don Andres knew the crowd expected him to play a grieving father and wondered if Perichole was there, Alvarado stepped in for a moment to call it all false. The Abbess sat with her girls, the experience left her pale and firm. “She had accepted the fact that it was of no importance whether her work went on or not; it was enough work.”p.141 Pepita wouldn't continue it and it would relapse to the indifference of her colleagues, sufficient for Heaven, the disinterested love in Peru flowed and faded and she quietly told Pepita her affection should have had more of that color and her life that quality but she was too busy. Camila attended, her heart filled with consternation and amazement. All the tragedies in her life and now the Viceroy was sending her daughters to a convent school in Spain, she was alone, (see be careful what you wish for) but she couldn't feel anything thinking she had no heart. (no you’re just numb) Then she felt great pain, “I fail everybody,’ she cried. ‘They love me and I fail them.”p.142 She despaired for another year then heard the Abbess lost two she cared for in the accident, she would know how to explain. 

She went to the Abbess and introduced herself, the Abbess knows her, having wanted to see her but was told she didn't want to see anybody and at the mention of her losses from the bridge Camila felt pain again. She asks the Abbess what to do she is alone, she takes her to the garden and tells her she wanted to know her even before the accident. She had lost two a year ago in the accident, but Camila lost her real child and has Camila tell her about it. 

“But where are the sufficient books to contain the events that would not have been the same without the fall of the bridge? From such a number I choose one more.”p.144 The Condesa d’Abuirre came from Spain to call on the Abbess, Dona Clara came in prepared to defend her mother to the Abbess to allow her to speak. (now you give a shit about your mother) At last the Abbess told her of Pepita, Esteban and Camila. “All, all of us have failed. One wishes to be punished. One is willing to assume all kinds of penance, but do you know, my daughter, that in love-I scarcely dare say it-but in love our very mistakes don't seem to be able to last long?”p.145 The Condesa showed her mother's last letter and she was astonished Dona Maria could have such words and was very happy the trait she lived for had proof and the world was ready and asks Clara if she’d like to see her work.  She showed Clara everything she worked for and spoke of there possibly being a language for the deaf (recorded history of sign language starts in the 17th century but reference to hand signs go back to 5th century BC Greece) and dumb (dumb as in not being able to speak) there’s hundreds in Peru, is there a way found in Spain, maybe someday there will be. She thinks something can also be done for the insane, but she can't go where those things are talked about, are they gentle with them in Spain. “It seems to me that there is a great secret about it, just hidden from us, just around the corner.”p.146 (the Abbess was truly ahead of her time) If there's something in Spain write it to her if she’s not too busy. (good luck she was too busy for her own mother) 

The Abbess leaves for a moment to talk to the very sick and returns with Camila and leaves again to talk to the flour broker. But Dona Clara watched the Abbess talk to them, to all those in the dark, Esteban and Pepita, alone, no one to turn to and those in beds within, a wall the Abbess built for them, light and warmth. “and without was the darkness they would not exchange even for a relief from pain and from dying.”p.148 Almost no one remembers Esteban and Pepita, Camila will die and so will the memory of her son and Uncle Pio. 

“But soon we shall die and all memory of those five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love returns the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”p.149  

FIRST

[havnblog]

My Biggest Small Gripe With Apple Notes

And (Obviously) Objectively Correct Principles for Paragraph Spacing

I think Apple Notes might be one of the best pieces of software Apple ships. They’ve nailed creating a simple app, with great ease-of-use, that still has more powerful features hidden, for those who want it. There are a couple of reasons why I don’t use it much, though:

In general, I like to rely on third-party services.

I also like the portability of Markdown, and being able to use several apps on the same files.

I like that, in NotePlan, I can use the same app for notes and tasks.

However, Notes has numerous nice features, like:

Good apps on both Mac, iPad and iPhone, while also being accessible on the web

Pretty good collaboration features, with shared notes and folders

More than enough options for formatting

In addition to these, you have to-dos (that can sort) and tables.

Collapsible headings

Embedding of files, photos, and illustrations (especially good with PDFs)

Audio recordings

Links between notes (no backlinks, though)

Tagging and smart folders

Quick notes (which Apple, selfishly, reserves for itself)

Math notes.

So I’ll gladly recommend it to most people!

However, as most Apple software, Notes is pretty inflexible. If you don’t like their choices, you’re out of luck. And I really don’t like their choices when it comes to paragraph spacing.

My paragraph spacing commandments

Have a look at this screenshot from Notes:

I really don’t like the lack of spacing around the headings, and that it’s difficult to tell that there are two separate paragraphs below Heading 1.

A way to fix this, is by adding newlines before headings and between paragraphs. But I think this both looks a bit inelegant, and is annoying to have to do.

So, I’ve made four commandments, that I think every text editor should adhere to. (And one extra, for Markdown editors.) Apple absolutely isn’t the only sinner. But most(?) other apps can at least customise these things!

The image above, is an example of what I want to see in terms of spacing1 – and none of it is created with newlines.

1) Paragraph spacing must be larger than the line height

This makes it easy to see that there are two separate paragraphs below Heading 1. To avoid complexity, if the app has an option for adjusting line height, you could have the paragraph spacing be a multiple of the line height.

2) There must be a separation between hard and soft returns

Many text contexts on our computers distinguishes between hitting Shift+Return or just Return. For instance, in some chat apps, Return will send the message, while Shift+Returns creates newlines.

In most text editors, Return creates a new paragraph – and usually a new regular body paragraph. (So if you were writing a heading, the next one would not be a heading.) However, if you are writing a list, it creates a new list element. This is a hard return.

However, if you hit Shift+Return (or Ctrl+Return in some contexts), you will create a new line within the same paragraph. This is a soft return. It can be used like this:

This is the first list element.

This is the second, which goes over two lines.

If I had made a hard return after “second”, I would have created a new list element (3.) instead of just a new line. This also works in headings, etc.

Adhering to the first commandment can be annoying if your app doesn’t support soft returns. Because occasionally, you want a new line without the extra paragraph spacing. For instance, while writing things like this great pop song by the Norwegian artist Astrid S:

From everything to nothing at all. From every day to never at all. And everyone says that I should be sad. Is it normal that

I don’t feel sorry for myself, care if your hands touch somebody else. Wouldn’t get jealous if you’re happy. It’s okay if you forget me. I don’t feel empty now that you’re gone. Does that mean it did mean nothing at all? But I’ll tell you what the worst is: It’s the way it doesn’t hurt, when I wish it did.

You need soft returns to be able to separate between line changes and new parts. Supporting these on mobile apps is a bit more complicated – but as not everyone needs it, I like the approach by the excellent app Paper:

The toolbar is totally customisable, so you can add the soft return if you'd like to, and place it wherever.

Apple Notes does have this distinction. But you require a keyboard to type soft returns – and it’s less useful when they don’t have paragraph spacing.

3) Scale paragraph spacing to heading level

To help with distinguishing heading levels, it’s a good idea to give more paragraph spacing to level 1 than level 2, etc. Here’s my example from earlier, but with added pixel values:

In this example, I’ve used 16px between regular paragraphs, and also below headings.2 And this leads me to the next commandment:

4) Make sure headings are closest to the content it applies to

Notice that I’ve added the scaled spacing above the headings, while keeping the spacing below them the same.

This screenshot is from Ulysses. As you can see, they do allow for spacing scaled to headings, but they make a different mistake: They apply the same spacing above and below. This doesn’t make sense, as headings explicitly apply to content below it. So standard information hierarchy theory dictates that it should be closer to that paragraph than the one above.

However, Ulysses does adhere to a bonus commandment, only relevant to Markdown editors:

5) Align Markdown headings, by putting the syntax in the margin

I prefer having the Markdown syntax being shown, but muted, as I don’t like it when the text jumps around (when showing/hiding automatically). But if you don’t put the # symbols in the margin, the headings won’t be aligned with the rest of the text:

However, as this takes up extra horizontal space, I like that I, in Paper, can align the headers on Mac and iPad, while not doing it on mobile.

With and without aligned headers. It takes up far too much space – especially on my Mini phone. As it doesn't look optimal without the aligned headers either, I often use the (great) preview mode while editing on mobile. This makes it, more or less, a rich text editor (while the file remains .md).

Fixing Apple Note’s spacing

I’ve made a mockup, where I’ve adjusted the spacing in Apple Notes. I’ll show the default spacing, my adjustments, and default spacing with added newlines.

In general, think the default line height in Notes is too tight, and this also makes the visual difference between the latter two smaller. So keep in mind that the middle option would also be functionally easier to use, as you don’t need to add space yourself.

In addition to higher line height, I'd also increase the difference between the headings a bit!

Defaults and customisability

Now, I’m not saying everyone has to have the same preferences as me – so lots of customisability, like in Paper, of course has its value. And I also genuinely understand if many just don’t care! But I really think adhering to these commandments makes for the best default.

What do you think? Could it be that the world-renowned design company is correct, and I (a nobody, who’s not even a designer) am wrong? 😲

But I’m not saying proper designers can’t make it look better than I can! ↩︎

Technically this is done by saying that everything should have 16px margin below (and nothing above), and then giving the headers different top margins. ↩︎

[slumgirlqueen]

How to be a novelist: How to write in spirit in terms of grammatical structure

As I am learning to write a novel, myself, I copy paragraphs from my current novels that I am reading onto a word document. I am on chapter 2 of A Prayer for Owen Meany, and now I have about seven pages of passages from the novel. And on top of that, I have many more pages from Dune and To Kill a Mockingbird.

I cannot underscore this very importance of learning to write in spirit. But to instruct learners to write in spirit is vague at best, and confusing at worst. So I broke down some lessons you can start doing by yourself at home.

While the last lesson is how to write in spirit in terms of emotions, this lesson, rather, will focus on how to write in spirit in terms of grammatical structure.

So what do I mean by grammatical structure. Grammatical structure is the way sentences and paragraphs are written in. Like you might noticed, I write in a very proper British English, with a lot of commas, and sometimes even colons and semi-colons. It is just the way I write from learning how to write essays in Canada.

If you have started to write a novel by now, you would know that novelists write in a different English than most people that speak English. It is very proper, and it has style and tone that do not exist else where in the written language.

But today, I will focus on grammatical structure. Even when I was writing Postworld Warfare: Journey to Oclarious, I quickly realised when reading screenplays that even screenwriters write very differently than most people. Even as an accomplished screenwriter, when I ventured into writing my first novel, this too is true for the medium of novels.

Writing in spirit is probably the trickiest talent to learn when you are learning to write. So I will try to make these lessons as advantageous to you as possible by breaking them down to the simplest I can. So today's lesson will be about grammatical structure. When you are reading your passages you are basing your writing on, keep an eye open and an open mind to notice the way punctuations are used. In addition, have an eye out for which part of the sentences are placed where. I will give you an example and a breakdown of it. The passage will be taken out from A Prayer for Owen Meany, page 4 of the first chapter.

"In Sunday school, we developed a form of entertainment based on abusing Owen Meany, who was so small that not only did his feet not touch the floor when he sat in his chair---his knees did not extend to the edge of his seat; therefore, his legs stuck out straight, like the legs of a doll. It was as if Oweny Meany had been born without realistic joints."

Notice how "In Sunday school," there is a comma right after it to enclose that part of the sentence as a separate idea. What do I mean by a separate idea? Well, a separate idea is that in speech "In Sunday school" is separate from the rest of the sentence. In short, the first idea is that it is where the occasion happened, thus, making it a separate idea from the rest of the sentence.

And the next part of the sentence, "we developed a form of entertainment based on abusing Owen Meany" is the second idea. In this case, the idea is that the event that took placed.

And the part after that, "who was so small that not only did his feet not touch the floor when he sat in his chair" is the third idea. This is common in proper English. This third idea is that it is the description of a subject in the sentence, which is Owen Meany.

A particular interesting part of this passage is very common in novels, which is the three dashes, "---", which means the next part of the sentence is read without a pause: meaning it is read immediately.

After the three dashes, "his knees did not extend to the edge of his seat" is read immediately, like I mentioned before, but to note this part is the fourth idea: the addition to the third idea, which is the a continuation of the description of Owen Meany. To note, this part could of preceded by a comma instead of three dashes but the author has chosen to write without a break of a pause.

After the fourth idea there is a semi-colon (;) used as punctuation. This is intended to extends the entire sentence into an elaboration with the following sentence.

After the semi-colon, "therefore" is used followed by a comma. This is common in proper English. It could be written without the comma but writers like Irving and even me prefer there to be a comma as a sign of a break in reading. This is the fifth idea, a way of summation of everything that has been said thus far.

The sixth idea is "his legs stuck out straight". This is the concluding part of the summation, that as a result of what has been said, the result is this. What follows the sixth idea is a comma as a cue that the next part of the sentence is a separate idea.

The seventh idea is "like the legs of a doll". This last part of the entire sentence is that this part is a description, an imagery, of the sixth idea.

The last sentence is the conclusion of the entirety of the previous sentence, which Irving describes to be "It was as if Oweny Meany had been born without realistic joints."

So how do we write in spirit in terms of grammatical structure? We have to break down each sentences into punctuations (or non-punctuations if that is the case) and ideas of the entire sentences. It is not as complicated as it seems. Once you mimic the way other writers write, it will naturally flow from you as you write in spirit of their original works.

By that I mean, that if there is a place where the event was taken place, like Sunday school in this case, separate that with a comma, and the event in another separated comma, and so forth like I have done here.

Well anyway, this is the longest lesson ever. Took me fifty six minutes just to write this one. Good luck and happy writing!

[creatur3creati0ns]

The Past 20 Years

I thought this would be the best way to start this blog. I think that’s still what this is called. Clearly I have no idea what I’m doing.

I’ve told my life story before to a lot of people, yet every time I try to sit down to write some of it out, I just don’t know where to start.

Trigger warning for mentions of religious trauma, childhood trauma and abuse, mental illness struggles, mention of self harm and suicidal ideation, alcoholism, eating disorders, fatphobia, homophobia and transphobia.

I was born in Michigan, and when I was around five my parents moved me and my twin (fraternal) sister to Arizona. Around then, my grandfather passed away from lung cancer. Sometime before that, I think, my parents got divorced. I have a very bad memory, a lot of that is attributed to childhood trauma and abuse and lifelong dissociation. I really only remember what my mother has told other people while I’m in the same room.

My father always lived nearby, and eventually he moved back into the house. Separate room than my mother, but because she would leave town for work often, it was easier for him to care for us while she was gone. My dad is retired from General Motors and is an Army veteran. My mother was a commercial bus driver. My sister and I got to go on trips a lot because of it. Everyone from out of the country loved the two twins who were dressed up as cowgirls.

Sometime in third grade, my parents moved us to a rural part of Arizona. Very small and conservative town. We lived on about four acres of land, with neighbors pretty far away. We were about 15 mins from town, from civilization. The church me and my sister were dragged to every Sunday was about forty-five minutes away. It was then that my mother went back to college. After a few years, with homeschooling thrown in there, my sister and I got moved to a bigger town about two hours away.

This is probably when I start remembering my life the most. Now is a good time to mention my stomach problems, because it’s a huge part of my life and after reading this whole thing a few times, I have nowhere else to stick this paragraph in. My mother says I was practically born with these stomach issues, I don’t remember them as a young kid, only when I hit maybe 11 or 12. Without getting into too much detail, something is wrong with my stomach. I would love to be more descriptive, but after literal years of allergy tests and diets and even an endoscopy, no one has any idea what is wrong with it. Every food and drink (even water) upsets it and I have stomach pain nearly constantly. It’s gotten better in the past two years, mainly due to not being in school or around my family, but it’s still pretty awful. On average I spend at least two hours in the bathroom each day because of this, and I have to be careful with consuming anything in public if I don’t have a bathroom near me. Okay, that’s personal enough. It’s a big problem. I’ve had chronic health problems all my life, so just keep that in mind as you read later about the other crazy shit that my body pulls.

A few months into fifth grade we went back to public school, and my mother finished her college degree for social work about a year or two later. We were living in our van for a while, then an RV, then an apartment, and then finally the house where I would spend the rest of my childhood. My dad lived in his own room across the hall.

My dad is diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and has been on medication for it most of my life. He’s also an alcoholic. Three beers before noon, more throughout the day. He never was really drunk unless my mother had friends over. I didn’t like when he was drunk. He got louder. My father had anger issues my whole life. He yelled over anything someone did that upset him, except if it was my mother who did it. She was always the one in charge. Even though they were divorced he was deeply in love with her. He acted more like an adult older brother who still lived at home. He never acted like a father. I have a lot of trauma from his yelling. Dropping a glass or a drink or running into something. Folding a towel the wrong day, not cooking the way he liked. Any time I was in the kitchen he would come in and stand behind me, watching and not saying anything. I’m still working through all that. But I used to watch westerns with him on the couch, his arm around me. We would watch baseball and football, but baseball was my favorite. Or at least, it was his favorite. I got a lot of my music taste from him. Rock and roll on the radio whenever he was driving us somewhere. We bonded over that as I got older. I dyed my hair orange when I turned 18, and he loved it. Orange is his favorite color. When I started getting piercings he loved those too. Asked when I was going to get a tattoo. He had a few old ones from when he was younger, and he loved talking about them almost as much as I loved asking about them. As an outsider, my dad was a pretty cool guy. But he was an awful father.

I was always closer with my mother. I’m having a hard time right now thinking about what to write about her. She has some good qualities, but I’m not at the point in my life where I could name them sincerely. She is suspected to have borderline personality disorder that is untreated and ignored. She had horrific childhood trauma that she would casually talk about over Christmas dinner. It was her dad that passed from lung cancer. She tried her best, that’s what she always told me. But I honestly don’t care. She was a horrible mother, a horrible person.

At thirteen, I was in a car accident. Rear-ended at a stoplight while my dad was driving. My sister and I were in the back seat, and the car was totaled. The guy hit us at about 30 miles per hour. Hit the gas instead of the brake. We went home to eat dinner, and then my dad took us to the ER. Mild whiplash, no scans, no nothing. Told to go home. The next day I had my first ever panic attack.

About a year of panic attacks, self harm, grades dropping, and suicidal ideation, I finally told my mother about it. Primary care physician appointments nearly every week led to a Phoenix Children’s Hospital referral. Psychology, neurology, anyone who might help. After about another year I left with a diagnosis of a traumatic brain injury, social anxiety, and major depressive disorder. I was put onto medication. I switched medications about eight more times. Eventually my mother didn’t let me try anymore. Soon after I started getting chronic migraines and nausea. The nausea went away sometimes, but for over a year I had a migraine constantly. At its lowest it was a 5 on the pain scale. It never went away. When I woke up and when I went to bed it was always there. Even a shot of Toradol in my ass didn’t make a dent.

This is where I’ll talk more about my mother. Most of the issues started after the car accident. Along with my struggles came her ignorance. I would break down in front of her over school, she would stare at me coldly, saying that grades and graduating is important and that she’s trying everything that she can. I would say I was suicidal and self harming, she would cry and say she was an awful mother. I would leave the conversation with me having consoled her, telling her she’s great and I’m going to be okay. Of course, her doing everything in her power consisted of taking me to church programs that were meant to heal me, asking her prayer group to pray for me, telling me to pray and meditate when my chronic migraines were getting so bad I could barely stand, and threatening to take me to the hospital if I kept saying I was suicidal. The one time she took me to the ER, she wouldn’t let them put me into an inpatient program. She took me home to be on suicide watch. She said if I hurt myself during it that she would be arrested. She took me off my antidepressants and told me not to tell my doctors, to lie and say I was still on them. She did everything she could think of, but apparently she never thought of actually listening to what I was asking for.

I had started therapy maybe a month before my car accident, because I had come to accept that I was bisexual and I knew that, according to my mother and my father and my grandmother and my church and the Bible, it was a sin. That therapist stopped answering our calls after my mother told him that a few sessions in.

My mother continued switching me from therapist to therapist, most of them Christian, none of them I had a say in. When I finally found one that I connected with and who was helping me make progress, my mother stopped making me see her. I was realizing that my mother was abusing me, and I was trying to help myself and set boundaries, and according to her, “I’m your mother, you can’t have any boundaries with me.” So that therapist was out. With all the therapists I had seen, one of the worst was my second one, who was the step-daughter of the first therapist who ghosted me. She liked to quote scripture at me, and say that she wished God would let her love gay people, but unfortunately he didn’t.

The worst therapist I had ever seen, by far, was a woman who specialized in equine therapy. I was never into horses. My mother, though, loved horses dearly, which was of course the only thing that mattered. When talking to her, it was fine. I don’t remember it much. The way she practiced therapy, though, was, in my opinion, unacceptable. Because she recognized that I struggled with placing boundaries (because I was told by my mother that I couldn’t), she decided to try to help me by placing me across the room and speed walking toward me, not stopping until I place my hand out in front of me and say “stop” loud and clear. As you can imagine, this caused issues, because this was her very first solution to this problem, rather than actually talking about it. And refusing to stop until I say “stop” in a way that she likes seems pretty messed up. Each time she did it I was forced closer and closer to a panic attack. She told me her eventual plan was to have herself replaced by a horse, who was walking (maybe even trotting) towards me. This probably would have killed me, because I was honestly afraid of horses at the time. Yes, my mother knew this, no, it did not matter. Any time we interacted with the horses, I was filled with anxiety and fear and every week I dreaded the appointment, and left with more trauma than I came in with. I asked to stop the appointments quickly, but my mother made me go for at least a month. After I left, I was done with therapists for a while.

I struggled through school since the car accident. My sister and I changed schools after starting 9th grade. I almost dropped out a few times, and I don’t think anyone actually expected me to graduate. I sure didn’t. I had to get a 504, which was basically a set of rules my teachers had to legally follow because of my disabilities. My brain injury, and at the time, chronic migraines and nausea. This meant extra time on assignments, no presenting in front of the class, no being called on in class, and being able to leave class at any moment to go to the office if I started having a panic attack. I had to do this often. Some weeks it was every day, and I would be there for hours, missing classes. This caused me to fall behind more. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital twice during high school, once in December of 2019, and again in April of 2021. I graduated in May of 2021, and walked across the stage high out of my mind on the half pill of gabapentin my mother gave me before the ceremony.

The last therapist I saw as a minor was through my high school. I was very close with the principal and guidance counselor due to my issues. We had to interact daily due to my 504 and me being constantly in the office. The last semester of senior year I took every class via Microsoft Teams while working in the guidance counselor’s office. My anxiety and depression had reached a point where I could not be in a classroom setting and around other people. She mentioned starting a group therapy for students, and when the therapist came to the school I was the only one who had signed up. I saw my chance, and I told him everything. The car accident, the panic attacks, the abuse, the self harm, the suicidal ideation, the fact that I was so sure I wasn’t going to graduate high school but my whole life depended on it and it was all my mother cared about. I had less than an hour and I talked the whole time because I knew this was my only chance. I hadn’t seen a therapist in a while and I was self harming daily, and was very close to a very real suicide attempt. And so he went out to the parking lot where my mother was (that’s a whole other crazy story. For a short time she was parked in front of the office all day to “make sure” I was doing my work and to “be there” if I ended up having a panic attack. My principal was not pleased.) and tried to talk her into letting me become his client. She told him that I had an eating disorder, which at the time, I had no idea she knew about because she never asked or did anything about it. There’s another point off for the Mother of the Decade award there. Long story short, she signed the forms, and he came to the school every week to see me. I joined the group therapy anyway, but the students just ended up unintentionally triggering me and the worksheets given out weren’t helpful if you had been in therapy for around four years already. He helped me get through the last few months of my high school career. He helped me go back to inpatient psychiatric care when things just got worse. When I turned 18 he still kept me as his client, despite being a therapist for adolescents. I stopped seeing him about a month after I moved out, because the company he worked for realized they weren’t getting paid by insurance so we had to end sessions immediately. He wasn’t the best therapist I’ve ever had (my current ones are a lot to live up to), but he quite literally saved my life and got me through the last few months as a minor, and for that I owe him. He was a sick dude and I hope he’s still good.

I turned eighteen five days before I graduated, and the first thing I did as a legal adult was go to the DMV and get my ID. My partner and I had been planning for a few months to move to Phoenix. Them for college, me to get the hell away from my family. I needed an ID for that, along with getting piercings and tattoos, which I knew I wanted to do immediately. My mother hated tattoos, piercings, and dyed hair but always told me that once I turned 18, I could do what I wanted with my appearance, even if I was still living with her. This proved to be a lie, because when I dyed my hair at 18 she got mad I didn’t ask her, and when my sister and I wanted piercings, we had to let her know in advance and promise it wasn’t a septum piercing because we were “still under her roof”. Don’t worry, after I moved I continued to mess up my appearance without letting her know and gave her multiple mini heart attacks over it. And I of course got a septum piercing. It felt good.

August of 2021, the lawsuit against the driver who hit me in 2016 finally came to an end, and I was awarded, quite frankly, a fuck-ton of money. I was eighteen. Safe to say the money lasted a little over a year. Between crazy medical bills and the fact that I was a teenager who just got out of an abusive household and started living with my partner, the money went by quickly. Especially when I wasn’t earning any money. For a year I stayed inside our apartment, had therapy appointments every week, doctor appointments almost every week, many tests and procedures and hospital trips. I started to have chronic hives a month into moving into my apartment, with no apparent cause. Every allergy test came back negative, and no one had any idea what was going on, but I was still spending a lot of money trying to figure it out. It landed me in Urgent Care about three times, due to my face blowing up about three times normal size. I left with a Prednisone prescription and an epipen. After 3 months of hives that never went away and would get worse randomly, my therapist suggested my body was trying to tell me that now was the time to start medically transitioning after waiting for five-ish years. Weirder things have happened, and there was a lot of evidence as to why this might be the case. This is probably something I want to talk about at some point, my relationship to my body and how it communicates with me. And it was communicating pretty clearly. “Testosterone now or I’m going to kill you” was heard loud and clear. I was in a safe place, physically, and, at the time, had money. So one gender therapist appointment and a single phone call later, I started testosterone February 17, 2022. I haven’t had hives since.

I developed an eating disorder in middle school, not long after my car accident. I don’t think those are related, but my mother was plus size all my life and there was not a day that went by that she didn’t speak badly of herself, and that definitely is related. Same for my grandmother. They were on diets constantly. I was put on diets due to my stomach issues, but never for my weight. I was average weight as a kid, and at around 14 I started gaining weight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for my mother to comment on it. Into the “thinspo” and “ana” pipeline we go. I remained thin for years, and when I moved out I was probably at my lowest weight. Then my hives started. I was put on steroids for months straight. A side effect of that is weight gain. I don’t know how much I weigh, because I chose not to weigh myself, but I think saying I gained 70/80 pounds wouldn’t be too far off. It was a big change, something I could not control. All I could do was watch. It was a lot to get used to so suddenly, especially when dealing with so many other things in my life. My body was changing even before I started testosterone. As most people with an eating disorder know, gaining weight is your greatest fear. Pretty quickly my eating disorder got worse, and an old eating disorder I hadn’t had in years got kicked into high gear. I am fat now, and I am more than okay with that. It took around two years to come to terms with that, and it’s only been the last few months where I finally felt comfortable calling myself fat. My body will never be the way it was before. There’s stretch marks and fat where there wasn’t before. I’m no longer the thin 18 year old. But that’s what life is. I’m 20, and I’m on testosterone, and I have tattoos and piercings and stretched ears and dyed hair. I’m never going to look like I did before and that’s okay. I like that. I’m a lot happier with my body now. Unlearning internalized fatphobia was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I’ve made a lot of progress and I’m really proud of it. It’s still something I struggle with, but now I can say I’m “recovering” from my eating disorders, and that itself gives me hope.

I realized I was transgender when I was 14. There were signs before then, but as I said at the beginning of this, my memory is pretty bad. Since my mother didn’t know about this, I can only guess the timeline based off of my Snapchat memories and pictures I took at the time. I don’t remember exactly what was the final nudge, but one thing that sticks out is when my mother told me to be careful with how I styled my short hair, because I could “look like a boy”. I admitted to myself that that’s what I wanted. I did want to look like a boy. There were a lot of other complicated feelings that I honestly don’t remember. I told my best friend at the time, and she was accepting. I told my sister a few days later, and as always, she loved me and accepted me. I first identified as genderfluid, but that lasted maybe a day. I realized nonbinary fit better. I wasn’t a girl, I was neutral. I wanted to look androgynous and slightly masculine. I used they/them pronouns with close friends for a few years, and I went by Noah. At 17, not long before I turned 18, I told my best friend I am trans guy and my pronouns are he/they. I had known I wanted top surgery and hormone replacement therapy for years, and I knew I could still do that using they/them pronouns and being nonbinary, but one day I just looked in the mirror and it all clicked together. I’m a trans guy. I still don’t connect with “trans man”, and if we were to get into it fully, I am still nonbinary. But “trans guy” is the best descriptor for me right now. In late August of 2021 I told my best friend that I really liked the name Ezra, and had been thinking about it for months. I finally told my partner (over text, because I was terrified), and then came out to everyone on my Instagram and Snapchat, which had my friends and old classmates, as Ezra and using he/they pronouns. I try not to focus on the fact that I can’t completely remember how I learned I was transgender, and choose to focus on the fact that transitioning brings me a lot of euphoria and has turned my life upside down in the best way possible. I am so much more comfortable in my body, my life, my appearance, my relationships, and just how I move throughout the world. I am, for the first time, happy and content in myself. Still need top surgery, but you know, money.

I came out to my mother via text in late February of 2022. My grandmother said it was the same as if my mother texted me telling me that she has cancer. So you can imagine this was well received. I endured a week of phone calls and texts where my mother was crying, saying she wanted to kill herself. She told me she called a suicide hotline the night I came out to her. She was texting my sister constantly asking where she went wrong. She told me several times she “knew in her heart” that I wasn’t trans, that this was just the current trend. She was angry that I had never told her this before. There was a Zoom call with her and my sister where she spent most of the time crying and denying the homophobia and transphobia I was brought up on. My partner was out of frame holding my hand. The call ended with me breaking down in tears, telling her that I’m fighting to be heard here and that I’m sure about this and have been dealing with it for years and this is something that I never brought up because I knew this is how she would react. Eventually the call ended, and the next morning I had a therapy appointment. We talked about everything, and I decided I needed space from my mother. I told her that, and I have not talked to her since in 551 days. There has been one message from her since then, where she did not apologize, and said she loved me amongst a bunch of religious bullshit. My grandmother berated me over text and when I told her I was not going to have a conversation about it, she berated me more. I haven’t talked to her since then too, despite her texting me twice since then saying where Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner would be held if I was “still interested in family” and asking if I had “divorced myself completely from my family” which is truly a hilarious sentence. I, of course, never answered. My dad shared his opinion, which was based on misleading comments my mother told him. When I told him the truth, he never responded. Haven’t talked to him since, either. I am still very close with my sister, but it makes things hard when family gets brought up. I do my best with placing boundaries and being honest, and she is endlessly supportive and loving, just like she has been all my life. I’m doing a lot better. Going no contact was the best thing I could have done. In the week after I came out, both my mother and grandmother said horrible things about me to my sister and to her roommate. Things I don’t want to repeat here. Things like how I’m not her child anymore. I never got an apology from anyone. I think they expect me to come back and pretend everything is normal. I have a lot of family nightmares, and I’m working through all of this extensively in therapy. I’ll probably talk about all this more another time. But it’s still hard to think about. I was 18 when I stopped talking to most of my family.

Not long after my hives disappeared in 2022, and pretty soon after cutting contact with my parents and grandmother, I got kidney stones. That was a bad night. My partner had to drive me to the ER at 2am. I don’t have my license, mainly due to the issues I was facing in high school. All my energy went to staying in school and staying alive. Plus a car accident that gives you a traumatic brain injury and an insane amount of mental health problems is pretty traumatizing and doesn't really make you want to jump behind the wheel. By the time I realized my stomach pain was not my normal stomach pain, was consistently getting worse through the hours, and was in fact an emergency, the kidney stones were almost done passing. Still had to endure medical care professionals who had apparently never met a trans person before and a fun little CT scan. So I lived through that, without support from my parents, and that was tough but it showed me that I was able to live without them. I was 19 at the time.

The therapist I’m seeing now is, funnily enough, the same therapist my mother stopped me from seeing when I realized I was in an abusive household. After moving I found her on LinkedIn and contacted her. I’ve been seeing her for almost two years. She’s a great therapist and the progress we have made is immeasurable.

Another health issue that came up, around seven or eight months ago at this point, was photophobia. Photophobia is a sensitivity to light. It’s a symptom of a bigger condition. You guessed it, I have no idea what the condition is. This isn’t really the fault of doctors, though, my primary care physician said there was nothing physically wrong with my eyes and referred me to an opthamologist, but that’s about when the money ran out so I still haven’t been able to figure it out. All I know is that it is very painful. My left eye is worse than the right for some reason. Photophobia burns, it feels like someone squirt hand sanitizer in my eyes. My eyes get red and watery, tears start flowing and I physically can’t open my eyes without immense pain. The only way I have been able to help it is to turn off all the lights and close the blinds, lay down for a bit with my eyes closed, after maybe 30 minutes open them, and then slowly introduce lights back into the room. It’s a whole ordeal.

I think those are all of my health conditions, and they are very hard to deal with. This in addition to my mental health conditions make living very difficult, let alone living well. I don’t leave the house much, mainly due to my anxiety and my eyes. I’ve had the same friends since high school and I love them dearly but I’ve really only made one in my adult life, and I’m 20 now. Because I can’t drive I rely on others to get me where I need to go, unless there’s an easy bus route. I wasn’t able to take the bus for the first year and a half when I moved out due to my anxiety. Even the thought of it sent me into panic attacks. I can’t be out in the heat for too long, which sucks because I live in the Phoenix, Arizona area. I have bad heat intolerance, so bad that any time I leave the house I have to bring an ice pack. I used to not be able to walk long distances for a while without insane leg cramps (something that testosterone effects, apparently) but thankfully that’s gone away. I’m very much not physically or mentally healthy, despite how often I try to treat these issues.

I did have a job, though. Only the one, after the money ran out. March 11, 2023 to May 11, 2023. Doing exactly two months was an accident. I worked as a retail recovery associate for J.C. Penney. It was hell. I was having panic attacks almost daily, dissociating during the whole shift. My stomach issues were a hundred times worse, and the photophobia was acting up daily. I had to leave work because of it twice. I couldn’t see and it looked like I was sobbing while hanging up clothes. I liked the job, the work, some of my coworkers, and the customers. Repetitive and easy. I liked talking to new people daily. Misgendering was a huge problem, despite me wearing a pronoun pin. It doesn’t help that I was placed in the women’s clothing section because that’s where I was needed. Coworkers would misgender me constantly, one even found out my deadname somehow and wrote it down on a paper we were using for the dressing rooms. The main issues were with the managers. Every time I tried to call out because of my medical issues or just straight up fear and anxiety, no one would answer the phone, no matter how many times I called. I would leave a message on the manager’s phone, because that’s all I could do. Apparently they weren’t getting these messages, and thought I was always a no call no show. They didn’t tell me this until the day before I quit. They were deducting points from me without my knowledge and I reached a point where so many points were taken that I would be fired. I had to leave that day because of my eyes, but the second I left the store I had a panic attack. I called and quit the next day. No one answered the phone, so I had to leave a message. I still don’t know if they actually got that message.

Since then I’ve been unemployed. I’ve been to a lot of interviews, but no luck. My partner of almost three years has been completely financially supporting me. Thankfully my insurance covers my psychotherapy and EMDR appointments I have weekly, but my partner pays for my testosterone (about $50 a month) and my prescription medications (about $20 a month). They pay all of our rent and have been for months. They pay for our food and for the food for our pet bunny, Bunjamin Buttons. As you can imagine, that causes a lot of pressure on them and some issues for us. We’re working through it a lot right now, but that’s a story for another time.

I think you’re pretty much caught up! This is the first time I’ve ever written (most) everything down, and clearly it’s not in chronological order. Hopefully it was understandable. But that’s what I’m working with! At 20 years old I’ve lived the life of 10 men, it feels like. And I have the brain injury, OCD, PTSD, major depressive disorder, social anxiety, eating disorders, and depersonalization/derealization diagnoses to show for it. Fuck.

[doefurryreport]

"The Friends of Sapient Beasties" (1979)

A while back, I was looking through Fanlore, a wiki for media fandom, when I found this short page with very little content, except for this old flyer:

"That's right. Finally a club for animal-loving Science Fiction fans."

It's an ad for a fanclub dedicated entirely to animal characters! More specifically, it's an SF fanclub, dedicated to intelligent animal-like races in science fiction. It also mentions fans who collected plushes.

The last paragraph lists several examples of animal-like races, which I tried my best to define:

Hokas - Comical teddy bear-like creatures from the Hoka short stories written by Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson, first collected in 1957.

Hrrubans - Feline race, from Anne McCaffrey's Doona series, beginning in 1969.

Pern dragons - The telepathic dragon companions from Anne McCaffrey's Pern series, beginning in 1967.

Dilbians - Bear race, from Spacial Delivery by Gordon R. Dickson, 1961.

Fuzzies - Small fuzzy humanoids from the book Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper, 1962.

Fire Lizards - Dragons? Might refer to the fire lizards in Pern, which are separate from the dragons.

Hrroshii - ???

Wookiees - The big hairy guys from Star Wars, 1977.

The selection is very specific. Out of all the aliens in SF, it's specifically those that are "fuzzy, furry, scaley, or leathery" like an animal on Earth. And not just any kind, they have to be an intelligent and evolved race (often to the point of being anthropomorphic). I decided this was something I had to look into.

Behind the Flyer

While Furry fandom has its roots in the Minneapolis animal cartoonists and Los Angeles animation fans that both emerged in the latter half of the 1970s, this flyer comes from Chicago in 1979, and doesn't seem to have any connection to the other groups.

There's two people mentioned on the flyer, Paulie Gilmore and David Hosky. Paulie Gilmore, who seems to have been in charge of the club, was an active fan artist in Chicago around the time of the flyer, contributing to fandoms like science fiction and Starsky and Hutch. She's a decent artist, but there's not much more about her to talk about here.

David Hosky, another Chicago fan artist whose work often appeared alongside Gilmore's, is shown depicted on the right of the flyer, as an anthropomorphic bear character. Being a fan of animal characters is one thing, did he really have a fursona as well?

Origin of (Per)Sonas

The Fanlore entry on "-sona" says it's likely that the concept of an artist persona started with furries, but this is inaccurate; it already existed throughout media fandom. When media fandom first arose in the 70s, it was unique in that it focused on fanart and fanfic, as opposed to earlier SF and comic fandom, which were far more scholarly and analytical. Then, the 1975 release of Dungeons & Dragons introduced roleplaying to fandom. It's totally likely that these fan artists began to take the roleplaying concept and use it with their favorite media.

Below is issue 24 of the fanzine Fleet, from 1978. It was a "persona issue", featuring drawings of many of the artists' personas. The cover was drawn by Paulie Gilmore, and features David Hosky's artwork inside. (link to page on Fanlore)

When D&D first came out, there were people that wanted the animals and monsters to be playable characters. With all the SF and fantasy properties with animal-like alien races, it makes sense that some would make personas out of those, too.

Below is Hosky's contribution to the above fanzine. His persona, on the right, is a Hoka!

Doomed to Fur

There really must be something innate about the interest in intelligent/humanoid animals. At about the same time the first furries were gaining traction in fandom, this fanclub for "animal-loving Science Fiction fans", along with a proto-fursona, developed completely independently. Furry fandom may have been inevitable all along.

[what-if-nct]

Hii, do you have any advice on getting over loosing a friend? A few months back, one of my closest friends left our group and I was not able to process it at the time. I’ve had more time to think back and my perspective has changed a lot. She said that her left our group because we reminded her of her ex. :/ I used to like her a lot in the past. Between March and now I went from being sympathetic, happy that our group was being less hierarchical, very upset, depressed, not really sure of how I was feeling and now I’m at a point that I’m kind of disgusted/annoyed with her. I just see her and can only see her flaws where I once saw perfection and it’s really strange to me. I just realising how she’s done a ton of weird stuff for attention. She threw a ball under a table where my group now and others were all at and went to get it but she lied down there for an excessively long amount of time. The rest of her group came and I was pushed out of the way and forced to move to a different table. She did not want to take part in a demonstration in pe and so she refused and when the teacher asked her again if she could help she just sat there and cried whilst we all just waited for her to get up so the lesson could continue. At the dentist she had to get a certain type of thingy which meant the bands would all be a certain colour and she cried so that she could get the pink bands. And that’s all since she’s turned 16. She would also dismiss others opinions if she didn’t like them, she’d dismiss most things I’d have to say even if they were facts and had evidence which I could easily prove. She’d also chat shit about people behind their backs which made me feel very anxious of what people were saying about me. Her boyfriend broke up with her on the 13th March and she completely stopped talking to her best friend within the group since the 14th with no explanation. The best friend has made attempts to talk but nothing worked and they haven’t talked since. But it’s like the person she is now is an entirely different person from how she was a few years ago. Ik people change but it’s a massive change. I miss the person she was then and she’s still a nice person (sorta) now but she just annoys me so much now. I don’t exactly know how to deal with it as it’s two opposing feelings towards the same person who will likely never be like how they were in the past. I don’t really think it’s good to separate person but its hard not too.

Sorry, if you don’t really know/can’t give any advice or thoughts. Also, sorry about the extra detail I put in (I seem to add too many details into stories)

Hi, I know losing a friend out of the blue is hard and when you find out the reason there's still that lack of closure. I think when you've separated from your friends you can see their faults a little easier with that distance so there's just this resentment and disdain but you also still care about them deep down. I've lost many friends or just grew apart from them. I know this is a lot easier said then done. But just try not to focus on them really put all of your attention on the friends you do have. Focus on all of the good amazing people in your life currently. She chose to leave for her own reasons and if she's behaving in ways that aren't appealing for you. Then it's for the best. Sometimes people are in your for just a small amount of time and as hard as losing them is it will turn out to be for the best. So really just find happiness and joy with the people around you. And trust me with time you completely forget about her I really hope I was of any kind of help. Just know it will get better with time, that loss, the animosity, those conflicting feelings will fade over time just focus on those who care about you and are still in your life. And it's fine I also add in too much detail in stories also. I just deleted a whole paragraph of an example cause I didn't want to lose my point.

[luv-again]

Reblogging this again because I needed to have a good long think about my life </3 and because I need to ramble at length, as per.

For me personally, I haven't felt a drop in engagement with my works as a writer, as it's difficult to gauge when there never was much of an incline in the first place.

Recently, I've had a small increase of engagement on my latest work, but it's hard to say why that is because I simply don't know what grabs people. I write for fun, to sustain my sanity, to send a message about a particular topic. Most of it is tailored to me, I primarily write for my own enjoyment and so I don't know exactly what grabs other people, hence why a lot of engagement on my works are minimal — because I'm not appealing to a specific audience. I also think it's because I'm garbage at tagging, summaries and promoting my works as a whole. I think I'm just too niche or boring or something ?? Again, I don't know what attracts or repels people with my works.

Another thing that doesn't help is being fairly new to a fandom. You're going it alone, with no support system, just hoping you might reach someone. I experience a lot of 'lost at sea' moments with that. You're just grabbing at straws in desperation most of the time.

Point is, what I do is maybe what's separating me from actively interacting in the fandom. Perhaps people can't relate to what I write, or perhaps I write too much broody introspection instead of something more fast-paced, entertaining and full of action.

I know I'm a good writer. I've always written works attributed to someone much older (so I'm told). But when all I have is to watch my stagnant statistics on AO3, I start to equate those numbers to my worth as an artist (not good thinking). It’s discouraging and disheartening and I'm genuinely led to believe that my favourite hobby, the one thing that really defines me is absolutely meaningless and I should just stop doing it altogether.

Lately, I have received a few really really kind comments from people, saying they did love what I made, that doing those hard yards weren't in vain. My favourites have been a handful of bulky paragraphs — comments that could have been essay length; those who said they could relate and those who quoted specific lines from my fics that struck them in some type of way. Those ones have honestly been the most uplifting. It's actually allowed me to interact with my readers, which is so important to me. The praise is always lovely, of course it is, but most of all, I love knowing about the people who found my work and how it impacted them. It makes it all worth it.

So please, I implore everyone to like, reblog, leave kudos, comment — whatever. Even if it's not much. Even if it's just to say you enjoyed their creation ! If you loved it so much that you want to write a ten paged review in response — do it. Being an artist of any kind is hard, let's lift each other up as best we can. Love and appreciation should be abundant for every creator that's giving their all.

Okay, I was chatting with a friend, and they have been feeling so demotivated in regards to writing lately due to the (seemingly sudden) lack of engagement. Honestly, I've heard this from multiple other writers as well. I don't blame them, and feel very similarly.

So I figured I'd throw a poll up to see how others are seeing engagement.

This can be for any fandom.

Feel free to comment/reblog with your fandom and your view of how engagement has changed. Did it seem to happen suddenly?