#i think i was dissociated and wanted to write prose but HATED prose so I made it as short as possible and for my google notes app ONLY

[jonesypiercedme]

Just

It isnt fair to tell someone they can go back to their happier self, to the person they were before they were broken, when shattering trauma has been their birthright.

[clare-with-no-i]

20 q's for fic writers

thank you sooo so much for tagging me @kay-elle-cee I unfortunately could not approach this in a completely earnest fashion due to who I am as a person, so everyone please take this slightly ersatz set of answers with all of the love I intend…which is a lot I swear…

AO3 Username: clarewithnoi (pronounced 'clare with no eye')

1. How many works do you have on A03? lol I keep orphaning stories when they annoy me but for now 37 (I think?)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 403,419…what is this word city

3. What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, others which I have not published lol

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

not the statistics page!!!!!!! john mulaney voice that's the thing I'm sensitive about!!!!!!

one long day (all my love will make you shake) at 1,151 WOW my god I did not realize it had surpassed 1k!!! did I know that? holy shit!

I will carry you, always at 873 ok this is also shocking but I do know that my they-lived AUs tend to be more popular and they're older so they've had time to accumulate hits

foreigner's god at 701 still can't believe this <3

theogony at 682 (!!)

growing pains at 675 another they-lived AU! I really carved out a niche early on

5. Do you respond to comments? don't look at me…I always want to…I swear I just get overwhelmed…put the gun down please…

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uhhhh jesus idk, probably the derelict art of letting go? I don't write a lot of angst but I guess that one is on the sadder side

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? foreigner's god! or I will carry you always! in one of them I contend with reincarnation and shared grief and second chances at life. in the other one they hook up in the DADA classroom. so it's a toss-up

8. Do you get hate on fics? not really, and given the number of public fights I've had on this account you'd think that people would take their dislike of me to ao3 more often, but everyone's been remarkably charitable in that regard. thanks guys <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? only if I can exorcise personal trauma through it. or if it's 2020 and I'm dissociating in my studio apartment.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? no and no one say theogony or I'm turning this bus around

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? yessiree and it was not pleasant!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes! a few! the ones with my permission were lovely. the ones without my permission not as much.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? naur…

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? it's like a three-way tie between jily, percabeth, and zelink tbh! but I've mainly read jily fic in the past few years I think. but this answer can change dependent on me developing a new hyperfixation lmao

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? the last time I answered this question I did it as a joke and then I wrote theogony about it so I'm going to choose peace and just plead the fifth here lest I commit to another wip that'll take three years

16. What are your writing strengths? I do a lot of (an excess of) research, I'm good at description, I am funny when I want to be, I've had some really good prose moments if I do say so myself (I do)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am structurally a very weak writer, I can't be succinct, I don't have a great literature background so I never really know what I'm in conversation with and have limited points of reference for writing, I am very bad at writing characters who are subtle about their emotions/romantic feelings, I submit to time pressure and rush myself, the list goes on

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've always wanted to write a fic in Spanish omgggg

19. First fandom you wrote for? either Zelink or Percabeth when I was like 12 lol.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? theogony!

tagging @thequibblah yes I know you've been tagged already. cope <3 and @mipwrites go get 'em champ

[cannibalinc]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I was thoughtfully tagged by @racfoam! Thank you <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

318,492 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly HP and Teen Wolf. I also used to write a lot of Naruto about fifteen years ago.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Rigmarole Dance - Harrymort soulmate AU

Gentle Roar - Steter omegaverse mating run AU

As Portioned from a Whole - Harrymort dystopian Voldemort raises Harry AU

Anthropological - Steter xeno wolf rape oneshot

Id Est - Steter smutty 800 word drabble. Surprised this one is on the list lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not?

Sometimes! If someone asks a question or comments something particularly conversational. I go through waves. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uuuh this is hard. Angsty for who? hahaha

Based on reader response and bookmark notes I've noticed, either Paradisus, a Harrymort Volddmort wins AU in Draco Malfoy's POV, or Be Thyself, a soulmate AU in Lily's POV, seem to be the endings that bother people the most. I get a lot of 'this was great, I'll never read it again' lmaaooo

But a LOT of my works are open ended or end with one half still in captivity/unhappy. The other half is happy though! :D

Honeyguide, splits your skin, Research and Development, etc all have this "bad ending."

(*The angiest ending I'll ever write is still a WIP, but it's coming.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The Rigmarole Dance for sure. It's light, funny, has the happiest feelings.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write mostly smut. Lots of non-con, lots of wet and messy, lots of monster cocks.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't think I've ever written a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, a few times unfortunately.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I had a really fun steter omegaverse dystopia project with a friend that we discussed heavily but never actually started. We called it the trash diamond. It involved amputation, conditioning and programming, you know the fun stuff haha. I still hope to write it.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Harrymort <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

...I will finish all my WIPs gdi lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

Atmosphere/prose. Recently, dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action. I struggle between pretty phrases and conveying immediacy.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Yes! It's great for making the POV character and readers feel alienated when they can't understand what's being said. Also if you want to establish a character is pretentious.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ooooh. I think InuYasha in the 2000s.

20. Favourite fics you’ve written?

I'm a self-indulgent writer, so pretty much everything I write is for me.

Research and Development was an experimental challenge for me that I'm really proud of. It's told in a dissociated first person POV through "scientific" logs and follows Voldemort's experiment on Harry and the deterioration of his indifferent observations as he becomes more obsessed with Harry.

I'm also really proud of Embryo, a fic idea I've been writing and rewriting for over ten years that I've begun to actually post. I've put a lot of work and research into it in order to capture Tom Riddle's voice and intelligence. It's in his POV, in the 1940s, and Harry shows up as a mysterious student no one can seem to explain or even remember long enough to answer Tom's questions about him.

I think racfoam already tagged a lot of other writers I know. Tagging @vdoshu @metalomagnetic @lordansketil @crowcrowcrowthing @vestiges-of-light and anyone else who wants to!

[degreesofabstraction]

I’ve been trying to write about trauma about being taken apart taken for granted taken

about how it feels to be a wound

I keep quoting myself “scars may make us who we are but open wounds are meant to heal”

I think I’ve made all the words already I think I need to make them a story

take all the poems and the prose and the promises to myself and put it in an order that means something put it in a context that makes sense

tell everyone what it means and what it meant

I’ve been trying to write about trauma I keep writing about forgiveness instead

.

2

I don’t want to forgive you I don’t want to forgive you

you hurt me you broke me you ruined me

I want to scream your name to the world I want to demand justice I want to hurt you back

I want to demand everyone who knows us choose: me or you

I can’t I can’t

I can’t

you don’t even remember you don’t know what you did you were going through hell back then

and yeah, you gave me a piece and that’s wrong and that’s bad

but you aren’t that anymore you aren’t them

trauma is a half death who you were never comes back and yet you are. still. alive.

The person who hurt me is dead they never left that moment they didn’t walk away

I didn’t either

you don’t walk away from trauma no one does

so I forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive because it wasn’t you because it wasn’t me

because neither of us lived

.

3

Places are just memories collective delusions which over time cohere into reality

we see similar things and describe them inaccurately and then agree that there is some truth some world some proof

we believed we were gods I suppose that’s just a coping mechanism when the whole world is out to get you what are you supposed to do

assume its not real there is a real world out there without these people who hurt us

and we are gods there

and when you hurt me when you did what you don’t remember

I decided you were fake too another deluded person living in their delusion world trying to play god trying to feel important not seeing the real reality

I told myself everyone else was crazy and that I was sane

At least I’ve finally stopped lying to myself

I may be god but that doesn’t mean I’m sane

.

4

I don’t want to kill myself anymore god I used to

I used to

somehow its worse not wanting to die

asking to be saved asking to be wanted asking to be okay

I’m never gonna stop wanting it

I don’t want to kill myself anymore but I still want to kill myself

I suppose that doesn’t make sense I’m missing the words the subtlety

I still want to kill myself I just don’t want to, when I want to. I just ask for help

I wish I wanted to.

I wish I wanted to kill myself I wish I wanted to kill you I wish I wanted to scream your name at the top of my lungs Tell everyone everything that you’ve done I wish I wanted revenge I wish I wanted justice I wish I hated you

I wish I had killed you

I wish you had killed yourself

I wish I hadn’t stopped you when you tried

.

5

I don’t know what sort of lives we’ll lead

I don’t know when we will part ways if we will part ways for how long

I don’t know how much longer I can survive living with you

I don’t know how much longer I can survive living with myself

places are just memories collective delusions which over time cohere into reality

we’ve been through too much together too much here this house isn’t made of walls anymore it’s made of trauma it’s made of you holding me down

this house is liminal on the edge of my perception shifting broken the edges not quite fitting

four lives, each with memories conflicting

our brains our memories build our reality

and here we are disagreeing

of course the world feels like it’s dissolving of course I see things

it’s not dissociation it’s just seeing

and I want to tell you I want to tell them I want everyone to know what this house is

I want to world to stop breaking

I want the walls to stand back up to fit together

I can’t I can’t

they can never know

.

its not just trauma

it’s not just forgiveness

it’s not just me trying to save you from yourself from what you don’t know

I hate the way people look at me when they can tell I’ve been crying “your eyes are red, are you alright?” it’s not compassion its pity and it burns worse than sucking in breath after drowning stings worse than peeing after rape and that shouldn’t be a comparison I’m able to make

what do you call the elephant in the room when it’s throwing bricks at a glass gift horse why don’t you look me in the mouth I’m not the kind of broken that is salvageable not another man’s treasure

you can break and break until the cows are in another pasture but you can’t make them drink and I’m not a metaphor for a good time I’m a figurehead on a shrink’s office bare chest, barred teeth, crucified

I’m not supposed to be forgiving you I’m supposed to be eating you alive this is what rebellion looks like an apology accepted shaking hands with the monster that broke me breaking bread You’re not a monster that’s just the narrative we’ve been fed

- January 25th 2018

[breathplayed]

32 and 76 ! <3

(32) do characters influence your writing style? i think so!! a lot of times mid-writing i try to do Character Checks where i ask myself if what i've just written feels consistent overall with the au character's personality/motives... and part of that is how their narration / pov feels. if they're more calculating, depressed, angry etc etc that tone should be in their pov, aka influence the style, even subtly. i try (am not always successful i think) to make each characters personality distinguished in the writing style and the pattern of their thoughts, not just in the dialogue they say to others

i think dialogue shouldnt be the characters only voice yfm. there's a thing i call Protagonist Voice where sometimes the pov character feels like a generalized nonspecific vessel backseat to what they're experiencing, like they're the uber driver to the reader's passenger, they're just Telling the reader what's happening matter-of-factly and never having any reaction/thoughts instead of Showing how they're responding to it internally. sometimes i feel myself struggling with that taking over and ask myself: how can i make this character feel more unique? like they have their own voice? the writing style can be a big part of that... when you read, it's really special when you can Feel a difference between pov characters outside of dialogue. because no one thinks alike, their thought patterns should be different idk. i forget the author but i once read a review praising that a novelist's different POVs really feel like diff characters, and that rly struck me as a Concept, and ever since i try (again: am not always successful) to be conscious of that. it's hard to balance it with making the fic overall feel consistent, like where do u draw the line between a work feeling cohesive and written by the same author vs making POVs distinct? idk! not saying im great at it but im trying. i try to keep it in mind. im working on it

i think my biggest example of my Attempt at that right now is tlg!jimin's pov versus taehyung's, since the former is the poster child for untreated ptsd lmfao. in the past!timeline chapters, i think there's more of like... an undertone of desperation and unhappiness to jimin's narration, he's more prone to spiraling into run-on sentences of panic and dissociative prose and em-dash abuse lol

(76) what is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?  ooohh..... i gotta say..... i think u gotta consider and remember how the villain sees themselves. because that has a huge impact on how they act and feel and come across to other characters. some villains believe they're doing the right thing and are righteous and dramatic about it. some villains believe they're doing the right thing, or the only thing they can, but hate it. some villains don't care at all about what is right or wrong. u gotta ask do they have any guilt, anger, etc. do they love or hate what they're doing. are they neutral and just getting paid! having a good solid idea of that will make their character consistent and easier to write

and also ask what their ultimate goal is.... do they even have one! are they just reveling in chaos! do they want revenge! have they even considered or prepared themselves for what their victory means and what the aftermath holds for them! (they don't have to have done that...... it is definitely fun to think about a villain who achieves their goal and then feels empty realizing it consumed them or it wasn't actually what they wanted!!!)

god i love villains. good soup

[thetriggeredhappy]

Holy fucking goddamn the sunset poem in Running Blind, huh? "Oh im into tf2 again i should read that fanfic i really liked in 2019 I bet its still fun-"

"…Sometimes, people try to take pictures of sunsets."

"Oh so this is what humanity is all about i see."

You fuckinf went off huh. Oh my god. The voice of god just spoke through you where did that come from. Im so MAD at you for putting that in tf2 fanfiction because i now want to record myself reading specifically that part of the story and how will i tell my friends "also this is from tf2 fanfic that made me cry at 2am" look what youce done to me!!! Oh my god. Oh my god. Genuinely beautiful literature genuinely outstanding prose genuinely overtaking emotions and depiction of human experience and beauty in the world and how humans every single day rediscover the same beauty and are still unable to conceptualize it for even a moment but we hate fleeting moments and want to immortalize them because they make us feel so much and honestly me wanting to record myself reading that part of the story is innately an aspect of me wanting to internalize those paragraphs and capture the emotion they made me feel, and the emotion they made me feel in 2019 that i forgot about, but ultimately all i can do is try to remember to read it again 2024 to feel it again because good fucking god.

WHY DID YOU PUT IN TF2 FANFICTION DJDJDJDJB. This is probably a nonsensical anon bcuz you probably haven't read that story in quite some time yourself. But just it. Do you have any fucking idea. Do you have any fucking idea what youve done to me a poor innocent man. That is one of the most lovely pieces of literature ive ever read. The entire story actually is incredibly lovely (i left a very long comment on it the first time i read it, i rmemeber.) And the paragraphs in chapter 16 only add to it, and strengthen the emotional bond between the two and their story together. But specifically just. Oh my god sunsets r changed for ever for me. Goddamn.

yeah i dunno what happened either if i’m being honest i wrote some of the last chapters including that one in like, a 14-hour, like, supreme-hyperfocus-to-the-point-of-dissociation-type-episode. like i basically blacked out and came out on the other side with about 10k words and that entire monologue and then i edited for spelling and posted it a few days later i have no idea what happened. i mean i did think to myself “wow this is in a tf2 fanfiction” but what else can you expect from a monologue about the transient human experience and how fleeting and extremely contextual every moment of our lives is, like. i liked tf2 right then. in that moment i was writing a tf2 fanfiction for fun. contextually that was important just then. and like maybe there’s something to be said about the fact that every sunset is beautiful and to some degree there’s this grief at not being able to express that but also there’s this faith, right, in recognizing this as a pattern in human behavior, and to some degree that means we recognize that this beauty is something we know will happen again. like maybe my next great monologue will be in a piece of original fiction, or maybe it’ll be in another fanwork. i have no idea, but odds are it’s gonna happen again. like i’m not gonna grieve over it as something that’s lost or wasted, i guess, because sunsets aren’t either. we like them, and then the sun goes down. and then it comes up again tomorrow. and like, in my brain i guess it’s not super important what context it’s in, if you’re in your car in traffic or if you’re like, getting proposed to. i dunno where i’m going with this honestly maybe if god breaks my brain over one knee again i’ll be able to word it right

also i absolutely did read running blind again recently i actually did a live reading of it as like a fun thing. the part with the sunset monologue is over here if you don’t wanna put up with the hassle of recording it yourself. it’s like portioned out and stuff

[brokenhayatim]

we might be dead tomorrow

[now playing the maze by manchester orchestra]

yesterday on a call, i had a moment of real possibility in having the decompression surgery. my neurologist last week said it was what she recommended and that chiari could be the cause of it all. so once i had it, they would most likely be gone, along with my headaches, then the meds i take would no longer be needed. it all hit me hard today and im feeling many emotions at this person who barely considered doing it for months. for god sake, i was in the hospital for it, a situation i never thought i would be in. (inshallah never again) 

you know some part of me loves being told i have a high pain tolerance, a big  part of me loves being poked with needles (!!) and loves looking at my mri’s. oh story time, the day my neurologist said something was different, aka wrong, i smiled in the chair and asked if i could look at it and went “ah cool!.” she gave me the wildest look but described all the brain anatomy stuffs to me. I told my therapist of this moment and he went “.oh...you were happy?” [types some notes on his computer] and i realized, normal people don’t do that and i probably said that badly with no shame. i wasn’t particular happy, but i was nowhere near sad or scared, i was excited. i think my dissociation makes me almost see everything as not mine. those aren’t my scans so i can be exhilarated and so curious about everything. or it could be that pain just isn’t something i worry or care for anymore. months later, i laughed bc something else being wrong with me, it’s almost fate. sometimes i wish i was terrified, but i didn’t care for it. i already had bad headaches, so what?

over these last few months though. it’s like i’ve made room in my home for it, i’ve become familiar with it, not so much comfortable, but so familiar that it doesn’t matter in the big picture. a secret: sometimes i feel really impressed and good when i tell of my imbalance issues, (vertigo), numbness in my limbs, the tinnitus and the nausea. sometimes..i wish i had more. i feel proud of myself when people have headaches, like i know the worst of that pain, and i’ve been through it. i don’t know if it’s because i want to be validated in having it or if it’s just how i am like that. i wish i could tell my sisters and everyone a whole list of symptoms, but all of them seem so useless and mediocre. i sometimes want that attention from just collapsing; but ironically, i hate being bothered and cared for with it. i found meaning in it all, i found a whole part of me within it all. i had headaches for 6 years before i, simply, told my general physician, and since then it’s been 5 (way too long of) mri’s and an EEG (that was certainly a moment). i wished, back then, i had seizures too. we called one of my pain symptoms “brain shocks” for years with that creative name and made it into this freeze “game”, and i just mentioned that two years ago in a visit. half of my identity is just on having headaches, of being in pain around people. and i’m stupidly fucking (sorry last day of ramadan) scared of losing that. i’ve taken more medications pills than i can count, and i know their purpose pridefully well. i’ve given advice based on that pain, i’ve helped someone with that pain. i’ll never be ready to lose that. i think of it and i imagine myself more empty. full of nothing.

the reason i’m writing this though wasn’t all that. i woke up and just felt this aching shame and sobbed, still am i can barely see, in my bed (so much snot). i’m so scared, more than anyone can possibly try to understand, of it all being gone. of never having to take a pill for this anymore (i still have dat mental illness so not those), or of never needing the knowledge of different types and locations of headaches. i’ve began to feel prideful in having a neurological condition. it makes me something, i have something i can tell. this is the thought that started the spiral. i feel something with this pain. what will happen when i can’t feel this anymore? what will i turn to next? what does the loss feel like? (is that corny or shallow bc it sounds so??) my therapist asked me ‘why i didn’t want to rid it?’ and i was like ‘i genuinely don’t know’ to which he replied ‘i think you do’ and i was all sIR i legit don’t know pls tell me. i made up this random guess and stuttered through it, it felt out of body almost, leaving my lips. what if getting rid of this physical pain forces me to submerge myself in my emotional pain and deal with that? i feel like i have none pls..me?? i’m chill sans the moments like this. (he also says my tether to pain is like penance, some kind of self punishment i feel i deserve..so lettuce chill bro). but the physical pain of headaches, the imbalance, the dizziness, even the numbness in my legs, i always feel something. it’s something i can remember in my head then move past. and when i remember it later, it’s intoxicatingly satisfying and i want it to happen again. i wish i collapsed or had to crawl to my room more often. i like..want to boast about it?? i remember that moment vividly being a ‘this is it’ one too. i was home alone crawling to my room bc my legs gave out and i needed my meds for my pounding headache, and i genuinely thought i was gonna die there on the floor. that moment of me hating and scared of it though is so fleeting, only lasting the day probs. and a part of me will always hate it. that’s normal. but that’s not strong enough to overcome me. it’s bittersweet.

“it’s not the same, but it’s similar to people losing their limbs, or injured so badly they’re forced to give up their career, or an addict quitting using drugs.” sure, but you can notice, you can see all that. this is all in my head.  unless you see my mri’s you would never even guess. it was why i wished my diagnosis was something with seizures, at least that’s something noticeably neurological that i can recognize myself. (am i a bad person? baby no doubt.) my old roommate once said she didn’t even know i had headaches often because i never complained or mentioned it. i would just go to the pantry and take my pill as you would with a cookie. and i’ll never be any other way, and i never was. i grew up closing the bathroom door when i threw up, washing my face after crying and walking back in the kitchen to my mom. i grew up missing moments of laughter and joy with my sisters to just lay in a dark room in pain, being checked on at the some time in the night. even to this day, i will sit in lectures when my head is pounding and i know i’ll throw up soon. anyways, my three sisters were talking about one of the other’s qualities and how amazed they are bc ‘they would never’. one of them had actually gone to class, and i softly mentioned how i am like that too, i think i’ve missed three classes in my four years (minus calc bc the class was more confusing than teaching myself). i said i’ve sat through night classes with headaches and with no meds for three hours and they were like mmm. i almost felt jealous that she always spoke of her small and big achievements, and i speak of none. no one even knew my major till this year. why, allah, why am like this? what made me too reserved and careless of myself? my education is the only thing that makes me feel worthy in the eyes of others...so mine, and i never even share it. it’s that, perfect on paper, that’s how i want to be. (because i know i’ll never be otherwise) i get up in a week of seclusion & sobbing and head off to class, sometimes i cry in class (iconic moments truly, your glasses hide wonders). last year i was sitting in this three hour class with excruciating (and i don’t use that lightly) pain in my head to the point where i had to cradle it with my hands and nearly bang it against the table from thrashing, i was in the middle of the room so i did a 10/10 job at playing it off. i never went to the bathroom or even home early...because i had another class after..which it persisted in. i had never felt that before in my entire life. another day, i silently cried like you wouldn’t believe in the bathroom stall (after uncharacteristically leaving the room) then wiped my tears, fixed my makeup and went right back into class. anyways does that even matter? am i even strong? i want to be so badly. for real this time, not this image. and i’m not. i’m barely enough as it is. 

odd tangent: i don’t care enough or at all about the people i should and i lie to make em feel good and feel better. i know people that love me would still, with this loss of pain, but i doubt myself, and i underestimate them yeah. i say 'them’ like i care what half the people in my life think or care about, it’s just noor and rose. i love rose but i don’t bring these things up, i don’t normally update and i don’t think i’ve ever opened up about my trauma enough for it to mean more than anything superficial. we have this beautiful relationship, yet i don’t find purpose in telling her if need not be, maybe one day. it’s different with noor. i babble all the damn time about everything and feel myself have no filter with these things. i mean, i mention noor to rose too, as if she’s a mutual friend. i care for them both. i love them both in different ways, both ways that are rare for me. rose wasn’t the first person i’ve met or cared about, but she was the first person i remember loving the way i do. i wish i could describe how i feel for noor simply, but i can’t. there was a long-while where she was more important to me than my family, even my sisters (i know, i was like uhmmm). i’ve written something, poem or prose, of almost everyone that was close to me aka 4 peeps (let’s not get wild here). and yet, i’ve written nothing of noor. i’ve written for her yes, but not of her. i tried and it’s arguably the hardest thing to do and i’m quite adequate at writing, if i do say so myself. i tried once in 2017, i stared at the screen for so long just backspacing bc nothing made sense. she’s my emotional support high school sweetheart that renders me powerless with my own words. (does that help?)

back to our scheduled program:  physical pain. it’s been maybe 10 years now that i’ve made a home for it. sometimes the lights go out when it gets bad, and sometimes i decorate with flowers when it excites me and brings something new. the house is probably the ugliest thing you’ve even had to lay your eyes upon, but it’s the best i got and it’s mine to come home to. i wouldn’t give her up without a fight. and i think that’s what my mind has been doing for so many months. trying to save my home, trying to keep every symptom of pain that i have. one day i’ll have to move out or i just die in here. both are changes i just can’t seem to make. i feel like i’m running out of time to sell it and move out, to do something and get rid of the pain. and, i feel like i’m making a mistake choosing to die in here, ignoring it and having it stay or get worse. if it gets worse, i’ll need help and the day i stop feeling like a burden to people, especially my family, let me know would ya. i don’t even often know how to ask for help if i wanted it - and then there’s being cared for that’s a nope to me. i can handle every moment of my pain from all my symptoms and condition, and yet i’m the weakest person in so much. i’m not a person that fears much, most times i find it impractical honestly. i reminded myself of that on my bedroom floor last year in february, during a moment of weakness. (also yes i use a lot of home analogies in writing ok) note: i’ve been mulling through this surgery decision for maybe a year on end now.

do i wish i was scared and worried to feel an ounce of normalcy? of course. but i’m not, i wasn’t even relieved with the diagnosis that day, went out and got pizza broo. even when i thought i was going insane. because what does it matter if it doesn’t change the pain? it’s kind of strange, but when i think of all this physical pain ( is it mental too idk??), i hear this voice in my head that smoothly and confidently says “gimme all you got.” i daydream of how much more i can take, what different things my brain and body can devise before i crack. and, obviously this voice personified does this...with finger guns.

[theboykingofhell]

9, 15, 16, 18, 26, 31, 32, 34, 41, 42, 45, 46, 47, 49, 51 for TSG, 54 :*

ricky found fucking dead in miami after looking at these PROMPTS,

9. Least favorite trope to write.

what a weirdly phrased question because if i hate it, i ain’t gonna write it... UHH. i really don’t like bringing dead characters back to life???? i don’t like writing scenes for shock horror... well, that’s a lie, i DO like to horrify the reader through my writing, but i don’t want to cheapen the emotional ~journey~ they go through by being like ‘JUST KIDDING! everything actually DOES work out in the end!!’

i have a story where narratively its kind of leading to a place where i have to make a ‘dead’ character come back (chaos actually, since i use her in red’s actual story) and it’s making me so mad like wtf thought we had a deal

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

SONGS... and just insp in general but i get a lot through music and nnnh... there’s just so many good aesthetics and quotes on my dash tbh i’m like constantly and consistently inspired, it’s great

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

imma be honest, the thing that motivates me most sometimes is either reading a rly shitty novel or seeing a shitty show and just getting livid and writing out of spite because THAT DRIVEL WAS PUBLISHED????? MY SHIT IS SO MUCH BETTER WTF... or i think to myself ‘what the fuck, what if i die tomorrow????? with my damn novel unfinished?!?!! HELL NO’... pretty much anything that reminds me that my stuff is Great but no one knows how great it is because it’s not DONE and OUT THERE yet makes me get off my ass

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

depends! for books it mostly just consists of rereading after a long period of ignoring my story and just tweaking lines that seem out of place or that ruin the flow i’m imagining. if i’m rewriting, then i have two word documents out (which the program scrivener makes SO easy god BLESS that program) and just... rewrite it word for word while STARING at the old version. that always makes the prose come out slightly different, it smooths out stuff or lets me cut away or add things i really like and, most importantly, it adds length, which i tend to struggle with a lot because i like just being TO THE POINT

with playwriting though it’s mostly about the format.. i write all plays like i write everything online... in lowercase with little regard to actual grammar. so i gotta actually pretend i give a damn about the english language and format it all properly and add stage directions cuz in a first draft for plays, i always just focus on dialogue and that’s it

26. Standalone or series, and why?

standalones are far more fun and way more satisfying and, quite honestly, require way less fluff. i keep FORGETTING how much fluff is needed in a goddamn novel. MULTIPLE BOOKS OF FLUFF no FUCKING THANKS

31. Hardest character to write.

in the rp: tyler (because he dissociates in a way that literally cuts me off from? any parts of his character? which is like the ESSENCE of his character but it’s VERY unenjoyable to write tbh) and nicki (because i put too much pressure on myself to make her seem a certain way instead of letting it happen naturally)... tbh canon characters and/or characters that are based on people are generally just rly hard sometimes cuz there’s SO MUCH IMAGINED PRESSURE TO MAKE THEM GOOD!!!

in original shit: honestly i’m really tempted to say aaron and that’s just because he’s so... unlikeable to me???? but also i think it’s just because i’ve really only written one scene for him (i always write in order unless a scene is just KICKING MY ASS to write, like this particular scene) and... he seems like a Lot... of annoying bullshit to have to write out lmfao that bitch

32. Easiest character to write.

red because i’ve been writing him for like 7-9 years now, i would hope he’d be easy by now... honestly, really explosive and dramatic characters too like bert or nora come SUPER easy for me, they’re so fun to write (especially dialogue-wise) because they’re very emotional and i can get PARAGRAPHS based on one reaction. characters who try and hide shit from everyone, INCLUDING ME, are so annoying,

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

typed because they’re legible,,,,, but then again, my handwritten notes make more sense because they’re kind of fully crafted ideas like ‘***make nisha and aaron meet at 42nd street for transformation chap???’ while a typed note will be like... ‘42nd street+aaron’... what did that mean, ricky-at-5am... why did you do this to us

41. How many stories do you work on at one time?

two... kind of as a minimum, sort of as a maximum... like there’s usually the MAIN story and then there’s something i’m kind of doodling in the side, something that’s just sort of cooking in the backburner that i’m not too serious into the process of it, but it’s goin... i’ve never tried to do 3 stories at a time but i feel like my attention would be too divided and it wouldn’t work

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

UHH........................................... i’m very fond of faceclaims cuz idk i just kind of... feel how they look... i don’t ever really envision a full person though, i get like traits... i’ll be like... oh she has long black hair and she’s not white and her eyebrows look like this... and then i’ll see a pic of pooja mor and be like THAT’S HER THAT’S EXACTLY IT. idk what it is about eyebrows and why that’s literally always the deciding factor of how a character looks, but there it is

personality just kind of... man, characters just poop out of me, i don’t decide any of this shit wtf jhsfjg

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

once someone told me to stop making the boys kiss in the first chapter of my story so i made the boys fuck instead

46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie?

scrolls WAY up... sees you didn’t add a story as a prompt WELL i’m still riding the tsg train here so

a tsg movie better look like the 90′s, goddamnit.. not like... found footage really, but i want something in the quality to be a little fuzzy and sort of tinted that one kind of grayish brown color i always associate with the 90′s for some reason... like, i can’t stop thinking about all these amber lighting and how dull everything looks, and how higher in quality things look the further and further it goes, like, it’s something i would concentrate a lot on visual cues with because i focus so much of the storytelling of tsg on nisha’s narration. sometimes you don’t know how many days have passed because nisha doesn’t know how many days have passed, if she dissociates, i’d want that shown on camera, if she keeps repeating the same number over and over again, i’d want to watch one little piece of a scene getting repeated again and again. it’d be VERY disorienting as a movie tbh but it’d be fun...

47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?

characters!!!! plot is such a backburner thing for me, if you have rly great characters, you already have a great plot right there. the plot is just set so i can see how characters react to things, man... 

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?

THE MIDDLE, FUCK THE MIDDLE.... endings are literally the easiest thing for me, beginnings similarly so, it’s just getting from that BEAUTIFUL starting scene to that GORGEOUS ending that fucking kills my poor undeserving asshole

51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.

low-res pictures of old cemetaries... that’s five words right there, i’m sorry but the END IS IN SIGHT, I’M ALMOST FREE AND CANT BE BOTHERED

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

can’t stress how useful having an insp blog is... creating a story through the unconscious collection of pictures and quotes that just feel relavant is just SO useful not just when it comes to really constructing a character an an atmosphere to your story, but making a fucking plot????? my tsg blog is like my most perfect insp blog because i got the idea to seperate it by chapters, and i’ve found that i can literally just... go into the chapter tags... and make connections and build on plotlines that i had NO IDEA ABOUT when i made or filled those tags, IT’S REALLY FUN and it keeps me inspired to write

[elsewhereuniversity]

On Time and the Perception Thereof

I’m a senior, and if everything had gone to plan I’d be graduating in a few months.  Things didn’t go to plan.

I started college at a different school, just an ordinary girl with a bright future.  I did well in my classes, fought a little with my parents, got drunk for the first time when someone spiked the punch at a Christmas party.  There were only a few things that made me unique: a talent for prose and poetry, a kind word for everyone, even the loathed squirrels on that campus, and a body and mind that liked to fail me.

That last piece is why I’m here—and why I’ll never leave.

My last school didn’t have any dealings with Them…but we did have ghosts.  Some kind, some not-so-kind, some that were just there.  Like many colleges, we had a lot of students attempt suicide.  Some succeeded.  Others, like me, did not.

I found out my childhood had left me with PTSD when I had a panic attack in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital.  That was one of the nights I’d felt like I was being watched.  It wasn’t the last.

Within the month, I felt followed—observed—constantly.  I couldn’t eat.  Oh, I tried, but I gave up when it all came back up again.  I couldn’t sleep except in daylight.  I missed class, and all I did seemed to drive me further into despair.

On an afternoon in February, I woke up to find that I’d missed yet another class.  My parents called, and they said I couldn’t miss any more.  I felt something pressing into my head, something far darker than anything inside of me.  I reached for the bottle of sedatives I’d been prescribed for the panic attacks.

I changed my mind at the last minute, my fear of myself breaking through whatever compulsion I’d felt.  I called my parents instead.

After four days in a psychiatric ward, I went home on medical leave.  I wanted to return to my school, but I was too afraid to reapply.  Something didn’t want me there.

When my year of leave was up, I applied to Elsewhere University.  See, I had an idea of what I was getting into—the traditions people talked about online were a sign that someone with my knowledge of folklore couldn’t ignore—but I felt myself called here.  I thought my knowledge came from books and stories, but I was wrong.

Very wrong.

What I have…it isn’t the Sight, I’m not that unfortunate.  I just…Know things sometimes.  I’ve had dreams for years, ones that always come true.  I speak in languages I don’t know, not really, but somehow the words feel right.  I feel watched—and I’ve never been able to tell if it’s the hyper-vigilance or something more.  And I remember everything.

But the worst part isn’t the awareness of things I shouldn’t be aware of…it’s the way it combines with my disorders.

Ever since that first panic attack, my awareness of time has been a little…off.  I hate driving because I can spend the whole trip feeling as though real life is just a dream.  I start a task, and look up to find that six hours have passed while I just stared at a blank page, trying to write an essay and feeling as though it’s only been minutes, save for the rumbling in my stomach and the dizziness of dehydration.  Other times, when I feel as though everything is a danger, and every passerby a foe, a handful of minutes stretch into hours.

And then there are the flashbacks.

Most of the time, I know where I am, that it’s only a memory…but sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes, the memory is what’s real to me.

And that’s how I got into trouble.

I’ve always been careful to follow the Rules, see, because I know my interest in writing makes me vulnerable.  I never use my real name; I don’t share my writing with anyone.  I’m polite to everyone, and make sure I’m never the recipient of debts or a debtor myself.  Most people here don’t even know I write.  I stuck with my original major when I transferred—political science—so I didn’t initially incur any interest from Them.

In my second-to-last semester, that changed, drastically.  I took a class on Arthurian Legend—it seemed like it would be fun, and I felt that calling again—and made the mistake of giving a presentation on Avalon.

Well, it wasn’t the presentation that was the mistake, exactly, it was how much I got right.

See, I understand in-between places.  It’s part of my nature—I was born in that strange time of year between Samhain and the Solstice, when the world’s a bit thin and blurry around the edges.  I’ve always had the feeling of being separate but still a part of humanity, partly because of how often I’m ill, but also because I was always just a bit too different for most people to enjoy being around.

Combined with the fact that I am essentially a living liminal space, caught between the past that haunts me and the future I am constantly anticipating with terror—let’s just say that the idea of Avalon, a place grounded in a real location but a gateway into Elsewhere…it appeals to me, calls to me, and I recognize myself in it.

I guess a little too much of that recognition came through in my presentation, because suddenly, I kept encountering Them everywhere. 

A girl with a smile a little too sharp to be human walked beside me in silence to every class for a week.  

A flock of magpies that didn’t exactly have feathers, just blurs that could be feathers, gathered around my lunch table once a fortnight for the next two months, never begging for bread but just watching me.  There were seven of them, always seven, never more or less.

I never went near the pool, but I kept finding lost flip-flops, still wet and always the left one of a pair, in front of my door every morning.  I left out a bowl of whipped cream for each one I found, and quietly asked around to see if the shoes belonged to anyone.  No one had ever seen them before.  I kept them in my closet and pretended not to hear the dripping of water on the wooden frame of my door every night.

Then, one day, I had a flashback walking to class.  It was nothing major, just a glimpse of a childhood humiliation, but it was one of the dissociative ones.  I think I must have said something, though I don’t remember what, because the next thing I knew, the girl with the too-sharp smile had hold of my arm and was pulling me to sit beside her in the grass.  I was still pretty out of it, because otherwise I never would have done what I did next.

I thanked her.

Stupid, I know, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the time.

Her smile somehow got more sharp.  When she spoke, it wasn’t in English, though somehow I understood her.  She wanted something very specific in return.

I couldn’t refuse.

So now, I can’t leave the campus.  That was part of the deal I didn’t mean to make—that I would stay…and act as an intermediary of sorts, or an interpreter if you look at it another way.  It’s not that bad, really, but I just can’t get used to the way I step in and out of my world and Theirs.  I missed a week of classes because I stepped through and couldn’t figure out how to get back without slipping through the time-stream.  

The administration isn’t happy about it, but they’ve offered me a position.  Technically, I’ll be part of Residential Life, but my purpose isn’t exactly laid out.  See, the bargain was only that I’d lend Them my voice and hands (thankfully still attached to me—I still had enough presence of mind for that) when They need to communicate in ways humans will understand…anytime they need to communicate.  And time, well, it isn’t exactly linear.

Now I’m not just off in my awareness of time—I’m sliding between eras at Their whim.  I guess this explains why that photograph I found in the archives looks so much like me.  I’m sure I’ll get around to being in the Admissions office in 1879 sooner or later.

After all, I now have all the time in the world.

So, this is my contribution to the whole dissociation thread…I hope you enjoy it…

[x]

[sweetymutant]

2, 6, 8, 13, 19, 21, 25 and 26!

Thank you very much for asking Darling

Weird Book Asks

2. What do you look for in a book cover?

Absolutely nothing. I take the “don’t judge a book by it’s cover” motto to the t. The subject of the book matters, the author, the summary. You could give me a book with the cover torn or covered in mud or plain white with nothing and I could not care less. 

6. What is a writing style/convention that you hate? 

A style or convention that I hate… huh… people who… I don’t know. Sorry. I really can’t think of a style or convention I hate right now. 

8. Do you write in your books?

Not in all of them. In my textbooks or the one I study for class, yes. In the other ones, usually not.

13. How do you feel about self published books?

Well, congratulations for those who self publish, let’s hope you were certain it was worth publishing in the first place. No, I don’t care. If it helps a good author, it’s great, if not, I don’t give a damn. 

19. Do you like it when authors have unusual writing styles (ie no quotation marks, written in prose etc)

I do not like it, no. I revere it. They are, for me, the most creative of authors. In my opinion, now in the 21st century we have pretty much had all ideas. Everything has been written or filmed or told or sung or thought. So it’s how you tell it that matters, and by transcending the form and style, you tell it in a new way. 

21. Can you appreciate a book without liking it?

Of course, I try to dissociate my subjective liking and objective appreciation each time I read a book. Because after all, it’s like in cinema: I fell asleep the first time I saw the best movie ever made, but I still see and understands its qualities. The same goes for a book. I can hate it and it will still be good. 

25. Do you lend out your books? Why or why not?

I lend my books because books need to live. They need to be read, carried around in bags, maybe forgotten somewhere, lent to somebody else… I don’t like to see them all pristine sitting in a shelf. I’m not that kind of fetishist. I want them to live. (Which does not mean that I do not take care of them. I do.)

26. What books do you have multiple copies of and why?

The Great Escape by Paul Brickhill (Two), Watchmen by Alan Moore (Three) & The Lord Of The Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien (Four). Why? Well, I can’t properly function without them, so I need them in my kindle, at my place, in my mum’s house…