#it was good for me to try to lay it out in a written format

[sassysnowperson]

The world is exploding and you want me to take care of myself?

I live in the U.S.A. As you might have heard, things are PRETTY BAD right now. It's been bad before, sure. I mostly coped with 2016-2020 by ignoring the news and writing a TON of fanfiction.

But between then and now I went and got a job as a therapist, and it turns out I can't just stick my head when my whole job is to help other people with the stuff that's stressing THEM out. So I've had to find a better way to deal with it. I thought some of y'all might appreciate a distillation of the conversations I've been having, with myself, and with the people I'm working with, as we try to figure this out together.

Yeah, It's Bad.

So yeah, we know that depression and anxiety are lying liars that lie. But. Your anxiety or depression isn't lying to you about this one. Things are bad. That said, maybe it's helpful to check if they are lying to you about your ability to survive this, to handle this, to find spaces where you can act. We are not doomed to paralysis and misery.

The Paralysis is the Point.

The current administration is using a playbook that involves trying to make their opponents feel overwhelmed, helpless, miserable. Any action we take against that is action against tyranny.

Action is the Antidote.

We live in an age where we can take in endless misery, about things that are either so big or so distant or so both that we are not able, by ourselves, to fix them. And that sucks. We need to find a way to turn that fear energy into action.

More Things are Action than You Think.

Self-care is an act of resistance. Authoritarianism does not do well with a hopeful, resilient, connected populace. Taking care of yourself is action, taking care of those you love is action, building hope and resilience is action. Talking to your neighbors, taking care of them, paying attention to their needs and seeking local solutions to address them - all actions. Any step you take towards building resilience in yourself and your community fights the crap you see on the news.

Speaking of the News.

Lets talk about digital self-care. This is not an all-or-nothing situation. If you need to detach completely, go ahead. But your options are not only ignore or open yourself up to an endless stream of misery. This is going to look different for different people, but we have got to refine our information boundaries. That might be blocking or unfollowing people (even people we agree with, who are saying things in a way that triggers our own despair). It might be losing certain platforms, it might be seeking out news from specific trusted journalists or a weekly roundup. Pay attention to how you feel during and after your news and social media use. Is it helping you live the life you want to live? Is it meeting a need? Is there a better way to get that need met?

Some Things are Still Good.

Let's make a Still Good list. All the crap in the world, but you know what, my cats purr is still good. The smell of vanilla and old books is still good, the look of a new-green shoot sticking out of the dirt is still good. No, we're not doing this to ignore the bad and pretend life is wonderful. But our brains are designed to prioritize threats, and with so many threats, it will wear itself out trying to protect you. Find the things that are still good, focus on them. Let yourself rest in the good, at least for awhile.

You are not alone.

It's so easy to feel alone. Feel like we misjudged the world, what was important to people. How can people think so differently than ourselves? The world is so big, things are so bad, and it feels like we're fighting by ourselves, so why not give up?

You are not alone. There are people that believe in the same things you do. You are not the only one fighting. Anything that you find full of despair and hopelessness, I promise, there are smart people with good ideas working on it. Take comfort from their presence. If you have space to do more, try to find them for the thing that's close to your heart.

I want better for us. And I know I am not alone. Neither are you. I promise. Neither are you.

[vanillesuiker]

A mind blowing job (Percy Weasley/fem reader)

Tags: smut, blowjobs, lingerie, overworked Percy Weasley and just general deviousness >:)

A/N: hehe freaky. This was written for my oc, but I edited for an x reader experience. So it might not be the most neutral, but I tried!

Also, some Freaky art drawn by the lovely @bastaardsuiker !! It's not very... risque. So hopefully tumblr won't kill me idk how this works.

This is my first time posting fic on Tumblr (HI!), so if there's something I could do differently in terms of formatting and stuff, please tell me!

Alright now get freaky!

｡ ₊°༺ ☾✶༻°₊ ｡

“I'm almost done, I promise.”

She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Laying in Percy's bed all day while he sat at his desk working on reports for the ministry wasn't exactly what she had planned for today. He was supposed to have a day off, and it was just perfect timing, she just picked up a custom order from a little shop in Diagon Alley. She had planned to change into it quickly when he was clearing his desk up, but at this point it was hard to tell if he would ever get to that.

Instead of showing him what she bought (and hopefully enjoying how much he liked it), she had spent the day helping Molly clean the chicken coop, sitting at a garden table gossiping with Bill and Charlie, and listening in fascination with Arthur to Harry talking about mundane muggle things. And all this time, Percy was just writing away in his room.

The sound of his quill scratching against the parchment was like nails on chalkboard, his quiet muttering while he wrote becoming increasingly frustrating. She felt like a ghost, he seemed to barely notice she was there. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. A devious little idea.

She'd just have to make him remember she was here.

Without trying to be quiet (he wouldn't look anyway, clearly a report on who the responsibility of owl dropping falls to when owls deliver post was more important), she got off the bed, grabbing the brown paper package. Inside was a bundle of dark purple lace, with black ribbons and trims. 

Semi hidden behind a tall, crooked wardrobe, she changed out of her jeans (a new addition that her friends had insisted she looked good in) and Percy's jumper, slipping on the purple dress. It was short, cinching right under her breasts and flowing out from there, and almost completely see through.

She sneaks up behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. He barely reacts, his quill pausing for only a split second before he continues writing. She leans over, head resting on his shoulder as her hands trail down across his chest. Now he freezes, ink dripping from the quill.

“Almost done?” She whispers, kissing right under his jaw.

“... Almost, I promise.”

She groans, moving her hands back to massage his shoulders. He sighs in response, dropping his quill.

“I've promised that a lot today, haven't I?” Percy mumbles, closing his eyes and letting his head tip back. He looked tired, exhausted even, and suddenly she wasn't angry at him.

Well, maybe a little bit angry at him. But mostly at the ministry, for overworking him so much.

The bags under his eyes were noticeable, his shoulders were so tense, his hair was messy and he somehow still looked so good. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, earning a soft smile from him.

“It was supposed to be your day off today, remember?” Her hands drop from his shoulders again, shamelessly feeling his chest through his dress shirt. “I had plans, Percy.”

He opened his eyes at that, his look of confusion quickly turning into disappointment at himself when he caught just a glimpse of the purple fabric.

“Is that new?”

“Yes, I told you I got something new.” She walks around the chair, and he instinctively pushes it back, making space for her.

“Looks good.” He wanted to hit himself for being so plain about it, but his brain was just fried. She sat down in his lap, straddling him with her hands interlocked behind his neck as she pressed kisses along his jawline.

“You should take a break.” She whispered in his ear, popping one of the buttons of his shirt open. It breaks him, and he finally kisses her.

It's so desperate, from the way he kisses her to the way his hands cling onto her. The entire time he was working, he was so focused on that stupid report that he didn't even realise how tired he was, let alone how badly he needed this. But as soon as her hands made contact with his shoulders, he suddenly couldn't think of anything else.

She opens another button, and then another, kissing down from his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of red marks down to his chest. Manicured nails rake across his back and he just can't stand it anymore.

With the strength that only desperate Percy has, he picked her up, accidentally knocking against the desk. Something falls over, but he doesn't care, too focused on getting them both to his bed, her giggles muffled by his kiss.

On the bed, she quickly climbs back on top of him, unbuttoning the last buttons of his shirt. Sitting up on her knees, her eyes trail across his body, seemingly not satisfied with the buttons she hadn't undone yet. Before he realised what she was doing, the button of his trousers was popped open, completing her collection.

“Wait…” He whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You don't have to do anything, I was kind of a dick today.”

“My love is unconditional, Percy.” She said proudly, tugging at his pants. “And I want to do this, now lift your hips before I Evanesco these.”

Who was he to refuse that?

All he could do was lay there, watching as she kissed up his thigh, and he almost vanished his boxers himself with how long she was taking. She finally pulled them down, and he was quick to lift his hips again.

For a moment, she just stared at him, hands gripping his thighs. He wasn't sure if he wanted to look away, slightly embarrassed at how easily he got excited by her, but the look on her face was one he'd think about for months from now.

She wraps one hand around him, slowly stroking him while the other hand slid underneath his tank top. His eyes screw shut, giving her the perfect opportunity to take him into her mouth.

He jolts up, hands digging into the mattress as she slowly bobbed her head up and down. His breathing is ragged and his face is completely flushed, the hickeys she sucked into his neck already starting to colour purple. A whimper escapes his lips when she swirls her tongue right around his tip.

She looks at him, a sparkle in her eyes that he knew too well at this point, and slaps a hand over his mouth as she speeds up. A warm hand pushes his hips firmly against the mattress, the other wrapped around him tightly.

“Fuck…” Percy hisses, tilting his head back. “...I don't think I'll… I won't last much longer…”

She only seems to take his warning as a sign to do more, hollowing her cheeks out as she sucks harder. He's already a moaning, sweaty mess, propped up on one elbow as every curse word he ever held in fell from his lips.

His hips struggle against her hand and his teeth dig into his lip as he tries to stop himself from alerting the entire house of his orgasm. He half expects her to pull away, but she just takes as much of him in as possible, continuing to suck him off until he collapsed onto the bed, weakly tugging at her hair to get her mouth off him.

“Please don't stop, I'm so- fuck, I love you, just don't stop, just-”

With what little strength he has left, he glances at her. Her hair is messed up, one of the straps of her dress hangs off her shoulder, and her lips are red and puffy, something white dripping down from her bottom lip.

“Merlin, I think you've killed me.” Percy mumbles, summoning a cup of water from his desk to her with a lazy wave of his wand.

He lays on his bed motionless, too overstimulated to notice the people outside of his room until the door swings open.

“Guys, mum says we're gonna have dinner outsi- Oh my God that's disgusting!” George makes a grossed out face, turning away from half naked Percy and the literal cum dripping from her mouth.

“I'm so telling mum!” Fred stands in the doorway for just a second longer before slamming the door shut and running down the stairs.

“I wish you could've actually killed me.” Percy groans.

She swishes some water around in her mouth, making a grossed out face when she swallows.

“Yuck, you need to drink less coffee.” She sticks her tongue out, setting the cup down. “And your mum is absolutely going to kill us when the fucking chastity squad reports us.”

Percy chuckles a little, too fucked out to really process the consequences. She lays down next to him, nuzzling her face into his neck. It's a peaceful moment, almost picture perfect if it wasn't for the messed up bed and Percy’s pants on the floor. The cracked open window lets in the calm sounds of the countryside, like the wind rustling the grass and the yells of his brothers who just heard what the twins walked into.

“They were doing WHAT?”

[spacecraftservicer]

sorry i’m not used to tumblr formatting and i haven’t genuinely written a story since high school lol

Thinking about sub!Mark who’d get get bratty mid shift bc obviously, he starts throwing papers at you, STARING you down, walking over to your desk just and staring over your shoulder just to bug you. You’d give him warning glances that obviously only encourage his behavior.

You’d abruptly stand from your desk and motion for him to come with you and ofc he does bc he’d do anything you tell him.

Leading him to a unused office space (obvi not canon compliant rn) and back him into the wall while he looks at you with big ole innocent eyes as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

Roughly you grab his tie and pull him down to kiss you and he lets out the loudest groan while you quickly make work of his belt and pants and tell him to lay down on the floor.

He does.

And slowly you reach down and barely touch his already hard and leaking cock and give it a whisper of a stroke, his head tips back and instead of a groan it’s a whimper that escapes him. You continue like this for so long, barely touching him, occasionally giving him one full stroke but never enough for him to finish.

He’s sweating and panting and whimpering. Muttering “please please please please” under his breath and WHINING when you don’t give him what he wants. Until you take his tie off and cover his eyes with it. He’s still whining obviously.

Silently, you take off your panties and lift your skirt up and get on top of him, slowly sliding his length inside you inch by inch while he lets out a gasp, his hands flying up to grab your waist.

“Oh fuck oh mnm i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“

You stop suddenly and he groans, thrashing slightly. Slowly lifting yourself you lean down

“Are you gonna be good and stop bothering me while i’m trying to work?” You whisper in his ear.

“Yes yes anything you want just please please let me cum please” He responds, words jumbled.

Smiling, you sheath yourself back on his thick cock and bounce up and down a few times before his whole body starts to thrash and shake as he cums, he whimpers loudly, overstimulated but satisfied.

You get off, slip your underwear back on, take his tie off from over his eyes and give him a swift kiss before leaving him to gather himself.

Sitting down in your chair, Mark comes in about 5 minutes after you, his hair still messy and his forehead gleaming with sweat.

AHHH SORRY THIS IS BAD BRAIN ROT BRAIN ROT

[dawnbreakersgaze]

All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ���ᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

[cisthoughtcrime]

I’m interested in learning Latin, where would you suggest I start?

So exciting! I'll try to keep this short:

I recommend starting with this very short informal intro, especially if you don't have a strong grasp on technical terms about grammar (most textbooks take that for granted). Latin grammar follows a rigid organisational system and the earlier you understand how it works, the easier it will be to learn the rest of the language. The 18-page PDF in the link uses English examples and practice questions to go through basic Latin grammar concepts and tables. It doesn't go through less basic things like participles or conditional clauses, but it does explain everything you need to know in order to learn those more easily. It also includes a hyperlinked list of good online resources for self-taught Latin and Greek students.

If you want to work through a textbook, Wheelock's Latin is probably the most widely used and comes with a lot of accompanying resources and guides (even though the official website looks older than Rome). Ecce Romani may be a bit more approachable and there are plenty of unofficial online lessons and guides made to go along with it. Those are my top two personally; I know some people like Latin Via Ovid because the practice texts are adapted from an actual ancient text about different myths, but imho I don't think it's as good a starting point if you're teaching yourself from scratch. Keep in mind that they'll all follow different formats for conjugation/declension tables, which can make it a bit confusing to switch between them; the short intro in that first link is a good way to understand how these charts work well enough to use them no matter the format.

There are tons of free resources online, even including full recordings of lessons, live study groups to join, communities with forum posting, and written-out explanations. For any individual concept that's troubling you, there are almost definitely multiple youtube videos of someone in front of a whiteboard saying it differently from the textbooks. Again, there's a good list included in that first document.

For practice in reading and understanding without deliberately translating, it's fun to try reading Latin translations of books you already know well in English, like Harrius Potter, Hobbitus Ille, Winnie Ille Pu, Alicia In Terra Mirabili, and many, many more, most of which are free on Archive and/or can be bought as physical copies.

However, this will be much more rewarding once you've built up some vocabulary and grammar, and might be frustrating or discouraging if you try the long ones too early, especially since they sometimes use words irregularly to convey modern meanings.

There are also a handful of recently-written stories in Latin targeted at students who like this kind of practice more. The German Netflix series Barbarians has all the Roman characters speaking in real Latin, and listening to it with subtitles can help build your ear for what sounds right.

Those are my recs for where to start! If you're stuck on something and can't find a good explanation, you can also send me an ask about it and I'm always happy to lay out how I think about it (even if my response times are irregular).

Good luck and enjoy!

[chaosincurate]

Album Spotlight - Jubilee

By Japanese Breakfast

Genre: Chamber pop/indie pop Song to try: Paprika

This album is surely one of the albums I've referred to the most since starting this blog over on Tumblr two years ago, and I have no qualms with that at all. Apart from just slowly, over time, becoming one of my favourite albums of the decade so far I've decided to write this post for two reasons: one, to really lay out why I love this album so much; and two, to have something to link to in the constantly recurring event that I find myself needing or wanting to discuss it. So lets get into it shall we?

But before we get started, just a brief note to say that this was written for my website, chaosincurate.blog, and is better formatted there. Here's a link if you want to check it out! Also, this is a rewrite of an early post of mine that I'm not a huge fan of. I think it was clunkily written and didn't put across what I find so special about this album. It's so drastically rewritten that I decided to keep my older post up. It can still be found on my Tumblr if you're curious enough to scroll through.

Jubilee & The Tortured Artist Trope

I will get into the track-by-track in a second, but some albums are so much more than the sum of their parts, and this is a very strong example. The album doesn't stick to any particular theme too strongly, but it does seem to have a clear aim: to legitimize happy music in the indie scene.

It is an unfortunate fact that, while most genres (and many mediums too, for that matter) have latched on pretty hard to the idea of pain being a necessity for good art, indie music seems to be particularly wrapped up in the mythology of the tortured artist. To be clear, I don't personally think negativity in art is inherently bad, and neither does Japanese Breakfast's Michelle Zauner by the looks of it, but there is definitely an overrepresentation of depression and anger in art, which I would argue has had a negative effect on music and it's fans in a perpetual, self-fueling spiral. Allow me to explain using a Cobra Effect analogy...

For those who aren't aware of the story, it goes something like this: In colonial India, there was an unsustainably high number of Cobras. The government, in an attempt to crack down on these Cobras, issued a bounty on them. Anyone that brought them a dead Cobra would be rewarded. In response, the citizens started creating Cobra farms, increasing the snake population and endangering themselves to get constant rewards from the government. Now, that story probably isn't true, but it holds a lot of rhetorical value, and I think it's apt to compare it to the relationship between expression of negative emotion in artistry and compensation for art.

Artists initially started expressing negative emotion to work through those emotions using a healthy outlet and eventually they started getting rewarded for it, being considered brave and artistic (and the fact it often helped others to work through those same feelings helped too). You may consider that a fitting reward for the artists bravery, but after a while it became a market in and of itself. If you were willing to express your negative emotions (or even just pretend to), you would be rewarded for it. There was a market that was ready to connect to your music on a very deep level and they would extol your virtues with the loyalty of someone with a life debt.

Artists soon realized that if you could farm negativity within yourself (or, again, convincingly pretend to), you would be rewarded handsomely, and most acted accordingly, pumping out pained ballad after pained ballad for the misery machine. Some of that would happen without the incentive, and some of it is my favourite music of all time, but the incentive cannot be ignored. We (the artists and the consumers of that art) have created an environment in which misery is romanticized and joy is stigmatized, with the sole exception of pop music which, thanks to a recent shift, seems to have a pretty balanced representation of emotions.

So this is what Jubilee stands in opposition to: not sadness in music, but the infatuation with that sadness. Jubilee says "I like sad music too, but there's more to life to explore in art". It rejects the lazy creativity of misery farming and strives to tap into a broader perspective on life, providing a stance on why the misery is worth living through. And that statement is made most strongly with the opening track.

Paprika

Paprika isn't the most popular song from this album. It might not even be top 3 (according to last.fm it's 4th), but I feel it should be. To me, while this song isn't the catchiest thing on the album, it has the potential to make a real positive impact on indie music (much like the album as a whole, just with wider reach). It also works as an excellent introduction to the album, so it may have even made the record more successful too if this song were given a push. But the song still exists and is considered a powerful piece of art by those who have listened to it, so let's delve into what is so special about this song.

Starting off with the lyrics, this is some of my favourite writing, definitely in music, and quite possibly in any form of media. It is everything I gushed about in the opening section of the post laid out in evocative lyrical perfection. It isn't entirely happy or sad, but instead approaches joy in a nuanced way, acknowledging that when joy is felt strongly it can come with a depressive hangover, but all the while insists upon the exhilarating rush of joy and that it is worth the pang of pain of immediate nostalgia you may feel afterwards.

The song has so much density of meaning, and everything is conveyed in such a clear and beautiful way. It's a perfect paragon of positive lyricism.

" Lucidity came slowly I awoke from dreams of untying a great knot It unraveled like a braid into what seemed were thousands of separate strands of fishing line Attached to a coarse behaviour it flowed A calm, it urged "what else is here?" "

But while the lyrics may be the highlight of this song for me, the instrumental from which the title comes (evoking a similar marching band sound to that of the anime of the same name) is also exceptional, unraveling in this magical way, with layered synths introducing you to the album, lulling you into a state of euphoric relaxation before a bright, bubbling melody brings in the previously mentioned marching band to a joyous pomp. The song develops fairly naturally from there with an added sprinkle of absurdist, wonky synthwork, but those first few moments are so incredibly powerful that the song could rely on that opening entirely and be a worthwhile listen.

If you only listen to one song from Jubilee, I highly recommend you make it this one. Is it the most fun song on the album? Not at all. But it encapsulates what the album is about so well, and is so important for the space in music that it occupies that I believe it should be the priority. If you also feel like having fun though, the next song has more than it's fair share...

Be Sweet

From an ode to joy to the most joyous-sounding song on the album. Be Sweet isn't easy to categorize thematically. Falling somewhere between a love song and a breakup song, the protagonist is asking for their partner to "be sweet" so that they can move on and be happy together. There is an everpresent acknowledgement that she is willing to leave should their partner not change their ways, but that she'd rather not have to do so. She loves her significant other, but the relationship has become untenable in it's current state. The balance is handled really well and paints a satisfyingly nuanced picture.

Sound wise, it really hones in on a carefree feeling which does wonders for that balanced "I'm going to be happy with or without you" impression you get from the lyrics, channeling funk and 80's synthpop aesthetics to help prop up that "Tell the men I'm coming" side of the song, but which can also be viewed as a celebration of a renewed relationship. It strikes an exceptional balance while also asserting itself as, by far, the most fun song on the album.

Kokomo, IN

As great as Be Sweet is, it does create a problem for the album (quite possibly the only problem I have) in that the sequencing is a little awkward following it, with the next track, Kokomo, IN, taking a sharp turn into the slow and wistful that feels a little jarring.

But a jarring switch up on track 3 or 4 isn't rare at all, with the album's introductory excitement wearing off and a change being required but with album's often going too big for their own good. What really sabotages an album is that track switch coming in the form of a lesser song, or not navigating the sequencing well from there. And thankfully I don't think the former is much of an issue, as while the song may not be my favourite on the album, it is still a clear example of Japanese Brakfast's knack for invoking the perfect emotion with sound. The feeling of nostalgic yearning and stasis is palpable here, and the balance of frustration and appreciation is handled shockingly well.

So that begs the question: how does it navigate the sequencing from there?

Slide Tackle

Exceptionally. The transition from a wistful, slow ballad to a plucky, somewhat dance-tinged song is an absolute masterstroke. It suits the album perfectly while setting up the rest of the album's sequencing well and does a great job of reinforcing the theme of joy, even as it tackles the subject of doubts or some harmful thought process preventing the protagonist from living life to the fullest.

It's absolutely still a hopeful song though, as the lyrics seem to imply a temporariness to the struggle, and the music itself begins upbeat and ends in full-on triumph. While it doesn't explicitly say what happens to the subject of the song, there is a strong emphasis on the positive, on hope, and an implication that it either does or will end up alright.

Posing In Bondage

This one is another highlight of the album for me. It creates a harsh soundscape, but one that you feel secluded and insulated from. As if you are wrapped in a loving cocoon amongst a harsh world. And that is about as fitting as it gets for an ode to the power of monogamy that also acknowledges it's downfalls. It's so beautiful it gives me chills.

" When the world divides into two people Those who have felt pain And those who have yet to And I can't unsee it Although I would like to Posing in bondage I hope you come home soon "

While the lyrics (partially lifted from Michelle Zauner's excellent book Crying In H Mart) seem to suggest that there is a negative tension within the relationship, you also get the impression that it is still very healthy and loving and that the tension ultimately strengthens their bond. That the short-term sacrifice of a lack of closeness and proximity creates an even stronger intimacy in the long run. It's a uniquely nuanced and subtle piece of writing from a very gifted writer who excels at nuance in dialectical writing.

Sit

This one is thematically similar in a lot of ways to the previous track. It is once again about yearning for connection, but it's played a lot more straight, and the implication here is not that the people in the song are in a long-term relationship, but rather that it is pure fantasy, whether about a total stranger or an estranged lover.

" Caught up in the idea of someone Caught up in the idea of you That's done too soon "

These lyrics are backed by noisy, dreamy synths in the verses that give way to a relatively minimalist and pleasant guitar in the chorus as the yearning turns to fantasizing.

It's a beautiful piece of music, albeit uniquely direct compared to the rest of the album, and manages to avoid feeling redundant, at least to me, following a similar track by virtue of pure quality. It might not be a highlight of the album like the songs that bookend it, but it is a song that the album would be worse off for not having.

Savage Good Boy

Savage Good Boy is an upbeat, tongue-in-cheek song about the rich escaping the consequences of apocalypse while offering a love interest the same escape in return for a romantic relationship. There is a lot of thematic depth packed into this little song too, from the endless pursuit of money and the pleasures it buys to the spoiled obsession that excess creates.

" I wanna make the money till there's no more to be made And we will be so wealthy I'm absolved from questioning "

Before I move on and talk about the instrumental a bit more, I'd like to point something out about the above lines that expose something important about the song more broadly: the self-centredness. This song is barely about the love interest at all. It is the most self-obsessed love song I've ever heard and I don't think that is an accident at all. It reflects the fact that the narrator doesn't really feel love for this woman. He feels a desire, not to be with her, but to have her play a role in his pursuit of patriarchal success, by any means necessary. He doesn't want to build a life around this woman, he wants her to slot neatly into his life inside his "billion dollar bunker for two". It is a subtle thing that is woven throughout the song and makes the satire even more piercing.

Now, as promised, a little about the sound of the song. For the most part, it's a pretty straightforward indie pop song, but there are a few elements added in to give it personality. Most notably, the backing vocals have been pitched up and it gives the song a very childish vibe, adding to and reinforcing the petulance implied within the lyrics. Another touch that does much of the same is that shrieking distortion on the guitar at the end of the song. A high-pitched guitar would probably do the trick on it's own, but the distortion seems to instill the feeling that there are stakes to this childish brat's demands and/or the meltdowns following a rejection of them. Once again, a song from Japanese Breakfast that paints a detailed picture with simple methods.

In Hell

While the album as a whole is about joy, this song is a downer through and through. Michelle Zauner has demonstrated on several occasions that she knows how to write about death, and this song is perhaps the finest example of that. It feels clinically brutal, as the lyrics allude to.

" And under the fluorescents Another sterile room where no one ever Tells you just how clinical death looks "

The song is just a constant flurry of lyrics that run the gamut of emotions felt in a situation like being the one to okay the death of a loved one who is unable to make that call for themselves. It's blunt. It's brutal. It's unfair. It's riddled with unwarranted, but totally understandable, guilt and I for one can't help but feel a hole carve out where my heart once was before it was savagely torn from my chest.

" Face to face And at my hands I snowed you in With hydrocodone Layer by layer 'til you disappeared "

Tactics

Next, we thankfully return to a more positive place: a place of understanding in spite of frustration. The song is about Michelle Zauner's relationship with her father after the death of her mother. It doesn't let him off the hook for his actions (namely, the distancing of himself from his daughter in a traumatic time in both of their lives), but it also acknowledges the hardship that brought about this awful pattern of behaviour. It doesn't just stop there though, as it gets introspective too, recognizing the good it has done for her (making her a less naive person when it comes to connecting with others) and the negative (the excess of that lack of naivety turning into an unhealthy distrust).

Adding to the very thoughtful depiction of these feelings is the instrumental which feels peaceful and meditative, but in a way that borders on anthemic somehow. It's a beautiful balance of the excitement needed to keep the listener engaged at this point while also centering the lyrics and doing what is best for the song first and foremost.

I think this serves as an important moment for the album's thesis. Much like how Dead Poets Society derives it's narrative power from the characters who most reject it and test it's statements, Jubilee might fall short if not for the fact that Michelle Zauner is testing her capacity for positive thinking by focussing on someone she likely feels a lot of resentment for. And that could just as easily make the album's message work convincingly as it could make it fall apart, but Michelle Zauner once again proves her talent for writing by, as mentioned earlier, putting forth an understanding picture of the situation that feels sincere. It's not entirely flattering, but it remains positive without feeling forced, which is the best thing she could possibly do to convince you of the album's thesis.

Posing For Cars

In the album's closer, the focus shifts back to the most accepted form of positivity within music: love. But Japanese Breakfast wouldn't be content with a simple love song, so instead, Michelle Zauner finds the nuance in her relationship with another person to write about with an added sincerity. As the title implies, there's a discomfort there, it's messy, not ideal, but the love doesn't falter, even as there is a clear rift in the forms their respective expressions of love take. The narrator is excitable in love, frantic, limerent, maybe even needy, while her partner is more laid-back, still loving, but in a way that doesn't need to reaffirm itself. It doesn't feel like the relationship is one-sided, even if the narrator describes a situation where she loves more actively than the other person, instead it feels like the pair compliment each other's personalities to make them a great couple with a love that can stand the test of time.

So that's why I feel as though Jubilee is one of the most important albums for the music industry, particularly the indie music scene. It is a collection of odes to positivity that don't feel forced and fake, but instead strike the necessary balance to make each song feel like a representation of a real perspective on life that can actually be sustainably replicated. It makes positivity feel like not just the right way of going about life, but a possible way of living life, and a way that doesn't make you fake or boring. On the contrary, there is so much sincerity, nuance, introspection, and intelligence in this album that it puts Morrissey to shame (as much as I respect his writing too). The tortured artist isn't dead, but they aren't royalty to be heralded either.

Thank you for reading my hyperfixated ramble about one of my favourite albums, I hope you got something out of it, and if you haven't already, I hope you give Jubilee a listen. Her/their album before it, Soft Sounds From Another Planet is great too, albeit not as thematically rich, and if you're up for it, it'd make for great listening ahead of their new album's release.

[thecapricunt1616]

Hello everyone! I am truly sorry for not posting as of late. I’ve been dealing with mental health stuff, also my laptop got broken :( So it hasn’t been as easy to write. I do have my iPad/wireless keyboard, but it just isn’t as comfortable to write on / I worry that the format will look like shit. I do feel poorly though because all of my moots have been writing a lot lately, and my blog has been so dry! I am really trying to get my mental health in check so obtaining a job will be easier and in turn, my work will probably be (somewhat) better. I hope this suffices, though, for the time being. I promise I’m trying to get a new laptop just as soon as I can <3 I appreciate all of your patience with me :) I have never written for our darling prince Lip Gallagher before- but he has been making me fairly crazy lately, so I wanted to give my go at writing for him, I haven’t watched the college Lip ep’s in a while so I hope it’s alright - sorry if it’s not fully canon! Tell me how I did if you’d like! xoxo - Capri <3 :)

(Warnings - smut choking (consensual) unprotected PIV sex, not very edited or proof read bc im tired ❤️❤️❤️)

”Hump my fuckin leg one more time, I swear to god. If you don’t just sit in my fuckin’ lap, and behave y’not gonna like me. I told you, I have 3 more fuckin’ papers to grade- like a cat in fuckin’ heat” he grumbled, not looking up from the homework assignment he’d been grading for the professor he’d been working under.

You pouted, squeezing his thigh that you had been straddling and working your way up to fully dragging your swollen, needy cunt across his worn out denim beneath your flower printed panties. A frustrated huff leaved your lips, before connecting them with the warm, tobacco scented skin of his neck and planting a gentle kiss. “Wanna feel good, Lip. Y’bein mean” you said, voice quiet and laced with the neediness he couldn’t quite ignore, or deny.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fine, Need a smoke anyway. But you want it so bad, you can fuckin’ get y’self off” he walked over to the dorm window, pushing it open to let out the smoke out and put a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and plopping down on the bed, popping the button of his jeans. You were sat there dumbly, jaw dropped at the fact that he didn’t put up more of a fight. ”You have until the end of this fuckin smoke. You gonna come do somethin’ er sit there lookin’ like a goddamn trout?” He teased.

You quickly got up, pushing him to lay down and tugging his cock just enough out of his jeans and boxers, spitting in your hand before beginning to stroke him quickly, thumbing over his sensitive tip and he grunted softly, smoke plooming out of his nose as he plucked the cigarette from between his lips. “see that fuckin wet stain you left on my jeans? Such a needy whore f’me yeah?” He mused, watching as you pumped him faster, mouth dropping slightly as he hardened in the pressure of your palm until he was throbbing.

”Only yours -“ your jaw falls slack as you ran the tip of his cock through your wet folds, gathering your arousal and using his tip to rub over your clit. His eyes nearly rolled back, putting the cigarette between his lips and taking another large drag. He looked down as you rutted your hips back and forth over his thick now throbbing length.

“Only half a cig left, kitten. You gonna get y’self off with it er’ just fuck around, ‘eh?” He asked impatiently. You rolled your eyes sassily, aligning him with your entrance and sitting back, a whimper leaving your throat since you hadn’t the time to get yourself fully ready for him and the stretch he provided was never anything you could adjust to no matter how many times you took it.

A small grunt left his throat, hips rutting up into you subconsciously a gasp left your throat as he shifted his hips forward, rutting into that most sensitive and spongey spot inside of you that made white stars form behind your lids and your thighs shake. You whine as your head fell back, hips trembling as you lifted yourself up and down over his cock. “Jesus- so fucking big….” You manage to get out, bringing a trembling hand down to play with your puffy, throbbing clit.

”Finally feel good? Hm? Little fuckin’ brat. Shoulda fucked your face instead mm? Bet you’d love that shit” he reached over and put out his mostly gone cigarette on the ash tray and you began furiously rolling your hips, worried he was gonna pull you off and tell you that it was time for him too get back to work.

”Yes- yes daddy, such a brat- your brat. Please- please let me finish- feel so good- please” you rambled, voice needy and begging. He huffed a nearly mocking chuckle, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down onto the mattress. It wasn’t painful, it just cut off your blood flow just right to where there was this sweet, fuzzy feeling in your head, causing your vision to go slightly hazy around the edges.

“I’ve created a fuckin monster - huh? Addicted t’my cock now. Can’t even go 12 hours without gettin’ filled up.” He was practically speaking into your sweaty, flushed skin of your temple, His voice a gruff row grumble. He used his other hand to rut up your tshirt, palming your tit roughly and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You squeaked out, hips jerking at the motion which urged him deeper and made your eyes roll at the overstimulation.

”shit - like that, huh? You like that? When I pound you this fuckin’ deep?” He snapped his hips faster, short, sweet little ah-ah-ah squeaks being torn from your throat with each nearly punishing thrust. You nod quickly, looking up at him in awe stricken lust as you clench around him.

“Ohh are you gonna cum? Is my little fuckin brat gonna cum? Mmm? You gonna cum around my cock?” He taunts in the shell of your ear, the hand that was playing with your nipple sliding down to play with your clit as the other stated wrapped firmly around your throat. Your hips jerk, feet planting on the bed as your back arches while your body tries to escape the oncoming tidal wave of pleasure that was threatening to take over.

“Mmhmm. Y’gonna cum- feel you fuckin’ milking my cock- go ahead baby - let go” he goads as he stroked your twitching bud faster. You let out something akin to a sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and breath hitching as your vision blurs out momentarily, body going slack other then your trembling thighs, and nails that were slapping and clawing at Lips back as he drives you through it, his thrusts becoming sloppier and harder at the feeling of you pulsating around him like a second heartbeat and your creamy white arousal seeping around him and covering his cock with each thrust.

“That’s fuckin it- that’s it kitten” he groaned, spreading out your pussy with a slack jaw, watching as his cock punched in and out of you, rutting against your g spot each and every time - in turn causing pathetic pleas for you weren’t sure what coming from your throat.

“Please what, baby- want me to fill you up? Hm? Need my cum drippin outta’ you after I fuck you to sleep here so I can finish my fuckin work in peace?” He coos mockingly, tugging you by your hair forcing you to look at him.

You sniffled, tears seeping from the corners of your eyes pathetically and drool dribbling down your chin from how he was fucking you so good your tongue had nearly fallen out of your mouth like some kind of puppy - “s-sorry- jus’love your- your cock” you hiccuped an over stimulated sob as he used his thumb abuse the nub further which in turn caused another strangled moan to leave your throat and head to fall back to the pillow.

“Awww I know Angel. You take it so well- like a good little toy” he mumbled into your skin, his words causing you to clench and dribble around him slightly, the raspiness of his voice mixed with the praise doing something to you you couldn’t quite explain.

“So good- so good daddy m’so good” you cry out as he fills you up, cock twitching and pulsing between your walls in the most delicious way. You gasped in delight, wrapping your legs tight around his hips and tugging your pelvis’ taut and comfortably, enjoying the feeling of being filled up to the hilt.

“Got shit t’do as much as I wanna live in your cunt, baby. Gotta get back at it” he kissed your forehead, grabbing a T shirt from his laundry pile and tossing it to you to clean yourself up as he fixed his jeans and went to sit back at his desk, leaving you well satiated

All be it a little sore and wanting post sex snuggles,

You win some, you lose some.

[mintymoonbunny]

hits treasure with the chronic pain beam

entirely self indulgent treasure/porter comfort under the cut

sorry if it’s formatted/written funny/ooc im in the clutches of a pain flare right now 😔

“fuck”

treasure was hurting. badly. the pain wasn’t anything new to them, but it was always fucking terrible.

so here they were, curled up on their bed, heat packs placed in the worst spots, medication in their system doing fuck all to stop the onslaught of sharp squeezing stabbing pins and needles pain.

“stupid, stupid. I waited too long to take those pills. so much for sleeping the pain away.”

treasure was getting frustrated. they were tired. they were hurting. they were alone.

they hadn’t heard from porter the last few days. he had work to do for his family, whatever that meant. god, treasure was really considering taking him up on the offer of magically induced sleep right now.

they miss him. it had been awhile since treasure had gotten particularly close to someone, and even though porter wasn’t around everyday, he was around often enough for treasure to notice his absence.

treasure tosses and turns, trying to find a position on the bed that will magically take the pain away. frustration turning into tears, forming quickly in their eyes.

“this sucks. im so fucking tired of feeling like this. it’s never going to get better is it?”

the sound of the phone ringing halts their rapidly spiraling thoughts.

treasure sits up to silence the disruption, stopping suddenly when a new wave of pain crashed into them, returning them to the fetal position of which they came. tears are flowing freely now, laced with pain, frustration and self pity.

“aw to hell with it. If it’s important they’ll call again.”

sure enough, the phone resumes ringing.

once. twice. three times.

“fuuuck”

treasure yanks the phone off the nightstand and checks the screen through bleary eyes:

missed call

text message: “I see that you are home”

text message: “mind if I come in?”

all from porter.

treasure perks up a little, wiping some of the still spilling tears off of their face before responding:

“back door should be unlocked. im in my room”

porter is in the bedroom doorway by the time treasure sets the phone down. he makes his way to them, silver eyes scanning over their body, hands reaching out to smooth treasures messy hair down, moving lower to cup their flushed face.

“what’s wrong my treasure?”

strong hands gently wipe away the freshly shed tears.

“im in so much pain, porter. i cant get it to stop. I need it to stop.”

treasure is a mess, borderline hyperventilating from crying, body tense all over. it breaks porters heart.

porter removes his hands from their face and places them on treasures arms, rubbing them gently.

“im sorry you’re hurting, my dear. lets calm you down a little shall we? take some deep breaths with me.”

porter guides them through the breaths, in and out, in and out, until treasure’s breathing is under control, their tears drying up, body relaxing ever so slightly.

porters not used to this. comfort has never been his strong suit, but something about being with treasure makes it so easy. there is something there, deep within him. a growing ache that he can’t quite identify. a fondness. a longing. a blatant desire to be near them and bring them peace.

“how are you feeling now darling? any better?”

“mm… a little bit. im not so panicked, but the pains still there.”

“I can help with that, if you’ll allow me”

“no, no don’t waste your magic on me porter. it’ll go away eventually.” even now, guilt chews through them. they never have been very good at asking for help.

“treasure, it would take a far greater amount of stress to even come close to denting my magical output. spending a small percentage of it on your comfort will be well worth it for the both of us, I guarantee it.”

treasure sniffles, the ache in their body ever present.

“…okay”

that’s all porter needs to hear. “lay back”

treasure obeys, falling back into the mess of pillows and blankets while porter situates himself next to them, wrapping sturdy arms around their frame and pulling them close.

“where is the pain today?”

treasure practically melts into him. “everywhere”

“anywhere especially bad?”

“mhm…my hips and back are killing me”

practiced hands run over skin, massaging the tense areas of their body, pushing a little bit of healing magic into them to ease the pain. treasure sighs, instantly feeling the warmth of the magic flow over them. “good lord where has this been all my life??”

porter presses kisses to the top of their head and across their face while tracing patterns down their back, saying without words “relax, I’ve got you”

treasure catches porters lips in a kiss, silently communicating back “thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re actually saving my life right now.” they move impossibly closer into porters embrace, feeling the pain in their body start to fizzle out.

“thank you porter. I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“oh please my treasure, it was nothing. why have all this magic at all if i never use it?”

a small smile creeps onto porters lips.

“besides, you know how i love to make you feel good, in any circumstance.” he presses another kiss to their forehead.

treasure matches his expression, smiling contently, finally feeling at peace. “I always feel good around you porter. you make it easy for me, even on days like this.” they press their lips to his his once, twice, three times, before closing their eyes and laying back down against him, healing magic making them so very sleepy. porters face flushes ever so slightly, taking in all of feelings around him. the same fondness longing desire that he has grown attached too.

“sleep well, my treasure”

the pair stay wrapped up in each others arms throughout the night, taking comfort in each others presence.

this is something they could both get used to.

[songoftrillium]

Werewolf: the Essentials Project Update 12/1/2024

Hello, Kinfolks! So, where is book 1?

In the words of an old teacher: "Vinegar is fine, but wine takes time." If you take something sweet and let it ferment, you'll get a tasty drink sooner or later, but there are many steps between juice and wine, requiring checks and cleanup and careful measuring. Vinegar on the other hand, put anything sweet in any jar and it'll be vinegar in a couple days without trying. It's easy to make something sour, but making something of lasting value takes effort.

In short, the book is not ready yet. I'm still not happy with what we have and it needs a little more work done, both in terms of writing and layout. Some pieces we're waiting for and life just got in the way of some deadlines. Others need some rewrites to capture the pathos right. Others just need laying out and we haven't gotten to them yet.

So, what's our road map for release look like?

Copy editing and layout

In-Line writing

Annotation

Indexing

Preflight

Let's break this down:

Copy Editing and Layout

The copy edit is where you have the written portions of a document and lay it out in a book. This becomes a game of word economy on the page, and sacrifices (and embellishments) have to be written to make things all fit in their sidebars and sections in a manner that is visually satisfying and doesn't waste space. My design ethos is that nobody wants to pay for white paper and double spacing. This isn't a college essay after all.

Where the document template we've been using to write can hold about 900 words per page, the book is tidy enough to hold about 1300 words per page, taking all the preplanned formatting in the master docs largely out the window by the time it hits the page. While we can (and do) perform some formatting magic to flex this number a bit and add graphics to fill out dead page space, that'd require we add and format images for every single page, which I refuse to do. We'd be looking at hundreds of images in the book. While there is some degree of using graphics to fill in dead space, when it's deliberately padded this way on every page, it stands out in an unpleasant way.

In-line Writing

On the note of not using too many images to fill in dead space, I'm doing some writing while doing layout, and by some, I mean a lot. On average I'm adding an extra 100 words per page as I go along. As a perfectionist I'm trying not to make the words empty either, so of what writing I am doing, it's adding value to the book on the whole. While 100 words per page doesn't sound like a lot, in the scale of 250-300 pages I am effectively writing a novel in addition to what's already written. Getting closer to the holidays, people are spending more time with their loved ones and nearly all this writing is being handled myself.

Annotation

This is the biggest one. Annotation involves not just making endnotes referring people to other books but also cross-referencing sections inside the book. If someone sees the word "Rekindling" in the book and clicks it, they can be instantly taken to the main section of the book written on the subject. This elevated the final product to one that is not just informative but also useful at the tabletop for quick lookups.

These cross references have to be added for every instance of that kind of referencing, and that takes time. That same treatment comes for both things being indexed for the back of the book, as well as formatting for the table of contents. This is all well and good, but also, cross referencing cannot happen until all the book sections are added, so there will be additional time needed even after I'm done with the layout. We have our citations ready thankfully, we just need those sections down.

Indexing

Which brings me to indexing, another task that largely needs to happen after all book sections are added and laid out. In order for an index to be effective you don't just need to flag words to add, but you need to create topics and subtopics, and designated white indexed topics are written more comprehensively than others. Like cross referencing, the ability to rapidly find the core articles being indexed means having those sections defined. If you index things without the right topics to place them under you're just doubling the work needing to get done.

Preflight

This one's gonna hurt, and tbh is a massive unknown for how long it'll take to pass. Preflight is a term used by desktop publishing software that consists of a system of checks and error reporting to ensure the book doesn't contain formatting errors before rendering it to its final document. This encompasses word table flow, graphics resolution, and color grading. This is the final check stage, and if we do not pass it, the software may not render the book correctly (or may not render it at all.) WtE as a series is being produced in what I'm calling a "Print-Ready" state. This means the final document is being made at high resolution, in a CMYK color profile, as though it will be printed as a book. To be clear, we are not planning to print hard copies at this time (Paradox Interactive's community content guidelines do not allow printed fan material at the time of this writing.) What this does offer, however, is future-proofing. Should the opportunity present for the series to be printed, it can happen without any ceremony. This will also accommodate higher resolution screens in the future, and we can release a higher dpi edition in ten years.

That said, however, passing preflight is a Sisyphean task, where solving one prerequisite may unsurface others. Converting graphics in RGB over to CMYK is also no one-click operation without things coming out a lot duller in appearance. While it's not hard to do all the proper conversions, it's tedious, and the more images added to the pile, the more time spent converting things manually.

Text being pushed behind the borders of a table is easy to miss and may lead to missing book passages. It's an easy mistake to make, and indeed several older edition books have passages missing for this exact reason. Then, when you bring it to wrap into the next table, it may wreck formatting for the rest of the chapter and need further corrections.

I'll be the one to say giving a fixed release date was a mistake, and it's why I'm not giving a hard release date on final release. I thrive on deadlines, but a deadline on final delivery is a dangerous gamble. I can say confidently we're past the worst of it and that "Soon" truly means "Soon."

The good news is that we're done with writing, but the book isn't ready yet. So, when is it coming out? I'm not sure. I'm at a point where once we're past preflight, I intend to immediately release it, and that's kind of where we're at. I'll have a future update to announce once we're in preflight. When we hit that stage, it could be a matter of a few days or hours until release.

Vinegar is fine, but wine takes time.

In the meantime, enjoy our comic, Cracking the Bone, and we'll see you soon~!

[mattsinclairvo]

While I wait for a response from Tumblr about my predicament about my posts not showing in the tags, I wanted to share some stuff I'd been writing for Noel and Rose! The OCs from my G/t show pitch (art by @miniature-knight) If you want to read more about them I've written some posts about them like this one or this!

The scene below features the two at a party they'd been dragged to but things take a turn for the worst when an Anti-Xionic extremist shows up to try and start a row

“Are you the whore who’s sleeping with one of those alien freaks?”He called angrily. 

A quick jog through a few databases showed he was Anti-Xionic talking head and extremist, Drew Brondson . It seemed the synths were activated by the disturbance. The Anemones swarmed toward the front to attempt, slowing him down. It must’ve been quite the sight to the few party goers close enough to see the formation of multicolored women.

“W-What? What’s going on? Was he screaming at me?” Farah asked.  

Confusion flashed through her drunk flush face.

“You need to keep moving, understand?” I said low and clear. 

The heavy bass and drums reverberated in time with our steps through the wood floor.

“Stupid cheap bots! Get these dumb things offa me!” Brondson howled. 

He was slurring his words, just as drunk as everyone else in attendance. This wasn’t some well planned strike. Farah or one of her ‘friends��� must've told Max about the plan to get us here. Max is the kind of clout chasing hustler to brag about having a NeoSapien hybrid at his party to anyone in his massively vapid social circle, and one of those people happened to be Drew. How ridiculous. Even more dramatic than a staged TV show. But still a volatile situation nonetheless, that I needed to get Farah and Noel out of.

“Keep your head down. And stick close to me.” I instructed, “We’re just two girls fucked up at a party.”

A loud thud rang out from the foyer.

 I took the liberty of peeking into one of the cams in the front. Max, despite being a ‘big tech guy,’ didn’t have very good firewalls in his home security. Brondson, with the help of his suited bodyguards, managed to keep the wildflower synths from throwing him out of Max's home but they weren't making much progress into the actual party. I doubted that would last long however. A wildflower synth, the one who was manning the bar, lay crumpled on the ground in a pool of artificial blood. A suited man stood over her. The synths let out inhumane hisses of agitation toward him. 

That was all I needed to see.

While we still had a head start, I ducked for the stairs. Noel was still in the upper part of the villa and needed to be briefed of the situation and secured.  Farha clung to me desperately, now on the verge of tears as we made it to the base of the spiral staircase. 

“You go up first, I’ll be right behind you.” I instructed.

Farha tearfully followed my command, taking wobbly heeled steps up the staircase. I followed, watching for the first signs of Brondson and his boys to breach the party proper. My internal communications system made contact with Noel’s smartwatch and I pinged an urgent message.

 “Hostiles at party. We need to clear out.” I said sternly. “Found Farha, approaching your location.” 

We’d both made about 76% up the stairs when another Wildflower synth was sent flying just over the heads of the partiers below. Her limp body crashed into the bar, hanging half-way off of its surface. One of her arms was slack in its socket from the altercation. It dangled just above the floor, dripping more bright neon green blood.

Then Brondson howled, “Get your ass out here freak!” 

Farha froze briefly in terror, right as we’d both made it to the second floor, and out of Brondson’s sight. She and I caught glimpses of his entrance into the main party as we retreated away from the stairway and the balcony to avoid detection. Some people had flocked to the synth corpse left strewn across the bar, while other party goers booed Brondson and his lackeys. 

“He’s trying to find Noel isn’t he? He’s going to kill us like that girl.”

“Trust me. He won’t touch you without getting through me. And no one’s gotten through me… yet.” I assured her. Then, I placed a hand on her back, to continue coaxing her forward. 

Noel’s smartwatch pinged back with his exact location in the house and a short text message,“Ah. That's what's happening downstairs, then.”

 I steered us both hard to the right, down a beige corridor with strangely bland standing floor statues and doors along the wall, that other party-goers occasionally popped between, scantily clad. 

“Can’t believe they’re having orgies at a time like this…” Farah muttered bitterly.

“They still think it’s a party, to be fair.” I responded. 

Everything about the environment that this Max guy had us hostage in felt so vapid. I'd almost consider it a form of psychological torture if there were any actual thought put into the supposedly thought provoking twisted stark white rectangles. Thinking back on it now, it almost reminds me of Xion planet homeworld. Stark and neat but not nearly as imposing. Sapiens are the same on any planet I suppose. 

We kept walking through this “tiny” labyrinthine villa, catching more brief glimpses of piles of bodies writhing in the middle of lavish rooms. Though I knew Noel was located at the end of the corridor, Farah felt worried. 

“He’s not, in one of those rooms, is he? I never brought this up, but some of the girls at the agency say Els likes to ‘spread the love’. I just thought it was baseless chatter…” She was prodding me. Even in her drunken, half-panic state Farah always had some other motive at play it seemed. 

           “He's in the master bathroom… not any of the bedrooms. I'd prefer if we stayed focused on trying to get out of here.” 

The hallway curved, obstructing the end from full view, but I could just see the top of the grand frosted glass entrance to the master bath. 

We were far enough from Brondson for me to take the lead from there. Still, I kept a close eye on Farah as we made the final approach, and smartly she stayed in near lockstep not far behind. The bathroom door was that same rot iron and glass design from the foyer and entrance, just more frosted to prevent-

…wait. 

    Why would you make a bathroom door out of glass? From what I understand humans treat it as a very private affair. Noel certainly made it clear early on, following him to the bathroom was not necessary or appreciated. 

     This guy is really stupid.

     We entered the master bathroom. The drastic change in lighting caused Farha and I to naturally shield our eyes. 

     “Hell of a washroom!” Farha yelped. 

     “You're telling me,” Noel’s voice called. 

     It echoed off the white tiled and mirror lined walls. “This whole thing is giving me a massive migraine. And I've been stuck with these obnoxiously bright lights,” 

I did my best to follow his voice, while my eyes were still adjusting. “I'm certain several liters of alcohol also might have a hand in it…”

  It goes without saying the master bathroom was absurdly huge. Nearly a rugby field in size, with a row of ornate sinks and toilets on one half of it.  

     “Heh, speakin’ of the drink…” he began. 

My eyes swept to the otherside of the bathroom. It took a moment to process exactly what I was looking at. I was still getting used to such high contrast.

 There was a deep oval shaped pit, carved into the marble adorned with golden fixtures around its edge. It was large enough to do laps in.

 But currently it was being totally and completely occupied by Noel. At the time my height estimation of him was 4.85 meters. His entire back side was sunk into the giant tub, while his limbs hung awkwardly over its edges and sprawled uselessly on the ground. 

His clothes were neatly folded on the ground next to the tub, leaving him in just the compression expansion suit mk II, a shimmering white garment made out of a Xionic material that was light weight and went underneath almost every outfit. 

The last thing you needed while having a stress induced growing fit, was to be totally naked during it.

However, being clothed didn’t soothe the total embankment of this particular situation. Overall it looked ridiculous and extremely unpleasant.  

Noel's face was flushed and his expression seemed glazed over.

“How long have you been here?” I began softly, trying to truly swallow the totality of the situation before me. 

“Not too long…” he responded vaguely, “Wasn’t this big when I-” 

“Tell me you fell in…” I interrupted. 

His face went blank, and he looked at me. At his size, we were still eye level.

“Tell me you got blinded by this bathroom's stupid lighting, and you drunkenly stumbled into this situation.” 

In response, a drunken bemused smile spread across Noel’s face. 

“Still a bit cheeky, huh? Well, I like your version of events, Gogo. So let’s go with that. Course, fact still stands… I’m a bit stuck. Where's the bloke?” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, and took another look through Max's security feed. 

“He's on the patio with his posse… being hounded by Max to leave, but I don't think he's leaving till he's found you. So there's that. Think shrinking back is possible at the moment?” 

     Noel thought for a moment, closing those big lilac eyes,”Just give me a sec… think i can manage it.” 

Sure enough, with a single deep inhale through the nose he managed to shrink to a size at which he could wedge himself out of the marble tub, though not by much. 

 Pressing his palms and heels against the ground, Noel lifted himself from the tub’s base, then ungracefully rolled out on the cold marble floor before us, face down oversized limbs and torso thumping around loudly.

“You uh- you alright there bud?” I leaned in close. He was still breathing thankfully enough.  

Noel gave a shaky thumb-up, still face-planted.

My confidence in our ability to escape this situation began to sharply decline. Even as my oversized charge slowly rose back to his feet and collected his clothes, I could see on the open feed, Max and Brondson's attention had been caught by what must've to them sounded like several people falling down the stairs at once.

“That face means bad news…” Noel mumbled. 

“Bad news?” Farah said breathlessly. 

She walked up to me on trembling legs, “What's he on about? What bad news, Rose?” 

“They may know we're up here….” I said slowly, watching as Max clung to Brondson's torso like a cheap belt. 

The first of the wildflower synths had finished their regeneration cycle and quickly re entered the fray. Brondson's security crew was somehow still blindsighted by the whole, 'androids don't die’ thing, and were brought down one by one and ejected. 

By the time the thugs who were left caught on, they were outnumbered. And they barely won numbered. They would’ve needed at least twice the number of people they came with to stop a team of wildflowers, but bless their hearts they tried. 

They yelled to Bronson for some sort of support, but Bronson had already taken off for the thumping, completely abandoning his security to their fate. Logically, they realized his help was paying them money for services. That that wasn’t enough as their skulls caved in under the weight of flesh and alloy fists was not Bronson’s concern. No, their lives were no concern at all. 

He had a big boy to yell at.

“YOU FUCKING THAT GIANT FUCKWIT OF YOURS?!” He bellowed, repeatedly.

 I could hear the distant sound of doors being flung open, Bronson screaming, and some hapless orgy screaming in response, on loop in that order. Noel and Farah heard this too, and the latter started to shake like a goddamn chihuahua.

 One o’ these days… I definitely did not say out loud. 

“Hate to be a bore luv…” Noel said to his date, “But this is why I don’t care for these. Rose, I’ve got an idea.” 

“Hm?” I had a hard time believing he did, but I didn’t, other than spraying Brondson’s brains on the wall behind him. 

Again considered a “vibe killer”. 

“Call the Rebel ‘round to our location. There's a balcony in the bedroom across the way. We'll have to make a jump for it…”

“A-And just how do you know that huh?” Her tone was accusatory. 

And Noel’s patience was just about up. 

“Cause, I've spent the better part o’the nite with my arse stuck in that tub, and I watched about a dozen naked jackass run in and out of that room.” 

Tensions were mounting, worse Brondson was getting closer. In a two birds one stone effort, I tried to fix both of these problems. 

“Alright! I'm calling the car! Let's get moving before he can corner us.” I said. 

It was enough to shut them both up for the moment. 

Keeping my pistol drawn, I marched back to the frosted glass door. Heavy footfalls and the click of heels followed close behind my own. 

Brondson was only a couple of doors down. We needed to time this perfectly. 

My hand went up to give the two behind me a silent three count.

Brondson lifted his leg, in preparation of a great stomping kick at the door.

3…

Bam!

2…

I waited for him to go bursting in on another group of drugged out naked people. 

1!

Right as he crossed the threshold of the room and the chaos of yelling started, I bolted through the glass door. 

All the confusion was the perfect cover. Brondson couldn't untangle himself from the people he was harassing fast enough to catch us. 

Of course now was the problem of us dropping in unannounced on a group of horny drunken party goers, but Noel seemed to be prepared. 

“Close your eyes!” He said bounding at the both of us. 

His arms were elongated and outstretched while he crouched low to the ground. In an instant both Farah and I were swept up in Noel’s grasp. Once we were pinned tight against him, Noel put every living neuron not soaked in booze into bolting out of the balcony door. I didn’t even have time to close my eyes, as naked party goers flashed by all blurred together in a sweaty mess. 

Then, we were on the balcony. 

I could hear the steady hum of the Rebel’s engine. It’d managed to pull up just below where we stood, on the gray cobblestone driveway. Noel released us from his arms and shrank to something that could fit in the front of a mid-sized sedan.

“Good going running us through that sex-pit…” Farah hissed, “Now we’re trapped!”

“The car’s right there.” I corrected, “Now all we gotta do is jump!”

The glare Farah gave made me double check my list of known Earth swears to make sure I hadn’t accidentally said something deeply offensive. Farah certainly wanted to reply with something deeply offensive, it seemed, but hadn’t the time while plummeting into the waiting vehicle.

 Noel did not appreciate being this drunk, this tired, and having his heroics spat upon. He jumped right at the word, taking Farah and I down one more leg of the Noel Express. 

Speaking of legs, Noel decided, mid-fall, against diving headfirst into an open convertible. He kicked, straight down. His legs shot out, quickly extending. He braced, tensed his thighs, bent his knees, and crumpled like a summer tent in a hurricane as he hit the ground. 

“Damn it! Where'd you go…” snarled Brondson from above.  

Noel’s face radiated agony. Worse was another flash of those bright red eyes of his.

We’d landed on the ground next to the Rebel. He released us from his chest in a notably mechanical motion. His body, seemingly giving up, deflated back to normal size.

“What the hell was that!?” Farah shrieked at a face-down-in-dirt Noel.

“That was me trying to get out of this mess you’ve led us into! But you don’t appreciate anything I do and you never listen to what I say!” he was blinking back drunken tears. His eyes cooled with the water, returning to the familiar lilac.

 Then came the violent retching as several liters of alcohol, now thoroughly unsettled in Noel’s stomach, spilled out of his mouth and into the grass and gravel.

“Ugh, you're piss drunk!” she spat, stepping away from the growing puddle of spew. 

I looked up and made direct eye contact with Brondson, leering angrily over us. He took a large step, as if to climb over the railing.

 That was enough. 

I pulled the pistol out of my clutch and leveled it on my wrist. Brindson would be an easy kill from that position. By the time my finger was touching the trigger, that brain in his thick skull was only just beginning to register his own demise.

[nicki0kaye]

Gonna share how I set up my comics. After writing a script--which is mostly dialogue, character actions and visuals, rarely 'properly' formatted or broken up with page length or lay out in mind--I do 'thumbnails' which are really just doodles of whatever size that get the 'jist' of each beat of the script. I don't think about page layout at this stage, either, I'm just worried about capturing roughly what I had in my head when I was getting stuff written out.

Then I take the thumbnails and scale them down and start constructing pages out of them. There's a LOT of ways you can format a comic, but I stick to a rough 3x3 grid layout as, like, the most busy I'm willing to make a page. This is what I mean;

I can use UP TO 3 horizontal frames interrupted UP TO 3 times vertically for a total of 9 frames per page. For hanahaki, it was a 2x2 grid for simplicity. Really, cannot recommend enough, if comic layout intimidates you, throw it away. Limit yourself to a simple grid and don't deviate. Your story only needs complicated layouts if you decide it does. Anyway, with that template in mind, I start plugging in thumbnails and giving them frames.

here I stopped at 5 pages bc who knows, my brain might implode and this project may die, so we're starting small.

The next step is to copy over the thumbnails and resize them for a full page. The last step of layout is putting in my rough estimates of where the dialogue/narration will go;

bc if there's one thing that will fuck up a perfectly good frame composition, its realizing you have to put a fucking speech bubble in there. I try to be generous bc I prefer fairly large text for my comics--as I myself am Fucking Blind--and it can be a hell of a tightrope, esp when you intend to do a chatty, floaty head comics like me. This is another reason I prefer to keep that 9 frames limit on my layouts bc there's only so much space for those talky bits.

For hanahaki, I tended to cheat a lot so you'd get a lot of pages where the speech bubbles were way outside the bounds of the page, which has made formatting later a huge pain and I'm trying to be better.

Ultimately, you just don't want to cover ppls faces. Unless you do, for the storytelling of it all.

anywho, FAR from a perfect science, but if I can bullshit together a comic using this, so can you. And you should. Go make a comic. I believe in you

[gutsby]

Guts you are a fucking insane writer and I'm so grateful we have you, like your works are absolutely incredible they are hot but also like lyrical.. so beautifully written.. you know? Thank you for sharing with us. do you have any advice for someone who has wanted to give writing fics as an outlet a try but feels like they're not creative or talented enough? Tips/tricks sorta thing? Love u madly deeply

FIRST, I LOVE YOU.

SECOND, thank you so much!!! I’m so so glad you enjoy my brainrot stories and I hope to keep them coming for y’all!! 🥹🩷🩷

THIRD, THAT’S SO EXCITING!!!! Fic writing (or any kind of creative writing, really) is the fucking best, and I’d be happy to share some tips!! Pick and choose whichever ones speak to you, but I hope these can be of some use 😩

No matter what you or anyone else says/thinks, YOU ARE CREATIVE AND TALENTED ENOUGH. Wherever your writing goes, whatever you choose to do with it, is enough. I know writing (and sharing your ideas) can seem daunting, but please don’t ever count yourself out of an opportunity just because you’re worried your work won’t be up to snuff!!

READREADREADREADREADREAD! READ!!! Not only fanfic, but flash fiction, short stories, novellas, novels, ANYTHING. I cannot overstate the importance of being an avid, active reader when it comes to improving your own writing. I sometimes struggle to find the time to read and write and work and live life, so I try to set reasonable goals. If nothing else, I read at least 5 pages per day of the book I’m reading, or I pick a short story and go with that. Lately I’ve been trying to expand the kinds of short stories I read, so I have a handful of websites to find what I like: (I’m on mobile so apologies if the formatting below is fucked 😭)

Project Gutenberg (good for finding classics and other popular stories)

The New Yorker (free 30-day trial and I think you get a few stories for free every month after ??)

Lightspeed (I’m not big on sci-fi/fantasy but trying to branch out!)

This loooooong list of literary magazines - not all are free, but many of them are

Write on the Tumblr app (or Notes). I may be one of the only freaks that does this, but I write every single one of my stories on mobile. I just prefer it to typing on a computer. It also may help with making the writing process seem less scary - at least for me, something I’m typing up on my phone doesn’t feel as “important” or intimidating as sitting down to stare at a blank computer screen or paper!

Find a beta reader/share with friends. I haven’t done this myself because I’m a PUSSY and still kinda scared to share my stories with people I know, but getting feedback from a semi-neutral third party can help improve your writing a ton! And also may be less scary than dropping your first fic to a whole online audience if you haven’t done it before !!

Follow whatever the fuck you feel inside at the moment and run. And run. And run. Seriously. I’ve heard this referred to as ‘pantsing’ (?), and it may not work for everyone, but I think some of my best stories came from a single dumbass idea (or even a line) that I let flow and grow and be whatever my brain wanted it to be. No planning or outlining. With ‘Cowboy Killers’ I just really, really, really wanted to use the line, “I’m gonna lay this motherfucker out” and have Reader throw a drink in Joel’s face, and that was it. No thoughts, just profanity and dumb, drunk antics. Don’t be afraid to start somewhere strange or random or really simple and build your story from there.

Speak your dialogue. Something that can be particularly tricky starting out is getting your dialogue to sound like real people are speaking it. You can have characters pontificating and waxing poetic all day long, but the truth is that most of us don’t talk in super long, flowery monologues. We use slang and sentence fragments and sometimes totally nonsensical sayings, and we struggle to find our words. Feature those things in your dialogue, and it should sound more natural, especially when you’re saying it out loud to yourself while you write.

I think this tip is from Stephen King (whose book on writing, cleverly titled On Writing, has some fantastic insight if you want more tips), but when it comes to picking an ending for your story, don’t go with the first one you think of. Odds are your reader is going to be thinking the same thing as you, and it’s nice to give them a little surprise if you can ;-)

There are SO many more pieces of advice you’ll glean over the years—just be patient with this process and with yourself and try to have fun with it!!! Alright shutting the fuck up now I hope this was helpful! Best of luck with your writing!!! 🫶🏼🩷🩷

[redr0sewrites]

🥀2K Follower Event🥀

🥀A/n: hi everyone!!! i've finally made it to 2K followers and i am so soo soooo happy + excited!!! i never thought id make it this far and i am very excited to celebrate with all of you. in honor of me finally reaching this goal, ive created a prompt list below that u can all use to send in requests. thank u all again for helping me on this journey, ily all!!!

🥀How it Works:

send in a request with the prompt number you would like, along with the character(s) you would like me to write it for and whether or not you want the fic to be nsfw/sfw

if you want any additional information on the reader to be included (gender, race, fashion, or any other descriptors) please include those w the request as well

up to 3 characters per request, as i want to realistically be able to finish them all without burning out

prompts may be used twice, but not for the same character. multiple characters may be used for the same prompt but a singular character can not be reused for that prompt.

i will be accepting requests until the event closes, and i will update this post once that happens

if a request goes against my rules and guidelines on my pinned masterpost, the request will simply not be written

i will work on requests chronologically, so please be patient.

🥀Request Format Examples:

hi! can i request prompt #28 with rengoku and a mtf!reader? i'd like the fic to be sfw! tysm and have a great day!

heyy can u write prompt #7 with aaravos and make it nsfw? thx!

can i request prompt #33 (sfw) with jayroy (jason todd and roy harper) x masc!reader? thankss!

🥀Prompts:

"you can't just show up like this! are you hurt?"

"where are you?"

"somebody is in loooveee!!"

"of course they don't like me, that's ridiculous!... did they say anything to you about me?"

"i don't like you- i love you."

"its so cold without you."

"i guess im just disappointed."

"did you hurt them?"

"i can't stand them, their stupid smile and their stupid laugh and their stupid crooked teeth- oh."

"why are your hands so cold?!"

"ive never felt like this before.."

"because i love you! i've loved you since the moment i saw you, i just can't take it anymore. i want you to be with me!"

"i wasted so much time chasing after them, and for what?"

"do you even like me?" "i love you-" "thats not what i asked. sure, you love me, but do you even like me as a person?"

"it feels- it feels good.."

"don't be shy, darling"

"i wish you saw yourself the way that i see you."

"i never hated you!"

"are you mad at me?"

"i'm just so sick of trying to be something im not. i hope you can forgive me."

"please don't cry, shh, your okay."

"i want you, no one else."

"do you trust me?"

"ive never been touched there.."

"i want you inside me/i want to be inside you"

"you taste so sweet.."

"why can't you see that i love you?"

"is that my shirt your wearing?"

"aww, are you stuck baby?"

"i thought i lost you again"

"our baby would be so cute..."

"you're so pretty like this.."

"i love you." "you're drunk, you dont- you don't mean that.."

"i hate how easy it is for me to love you again."

"are you.. scared of me?"

"aw, don't cry prince/ss"

"i need to stay awake, but i'm just so tired... can you stay? please?"

"i'm just going to end up hurting you-" "i know you'd never hurt me"

"would it be embarrassing if i said i missed you?"

"fuck- feel me all up in your guts, baby?"

"stay still, this will only hurt for a second, jus' relax for me, kay?"

"i know you can take it, just breathe"

"i need you so bad.. it hurts-"

"do you wanna join, or are you just gonna keep watching?"

"no one else will get to see me like this, i can promise you that"

"come closer, i need you"

"you look absolutely stunning like this"

"i'm sorry i wasn't there before, but i'm here now, and i always will be"

"i can't get up with you laying on top of me!"

"shit." "what?" "so, uh, theres only one bed.."

most of these i made up myself by just imagining random fanfic scenarios, but a few were ideas from friends, so credit to them! again, thank you all so much for supporting me and for helping me get this far ♥️♥️♥️

[the-way-astray]

im sure youre bored with asks about your rant, sorry. but i can't wait to see you tear into unlocked, HIS POV

he sucks so much and the fact that people read his thoughts and still like and love him is crazyy to me

i'm not bored at all, anon! i like it when people talk to me about my rant.

i actually started my unlocked novella rant! fun fact: that's actually the reason i posted only the first eight books separately. i was originally going to wait and post the entire thing after unraveled's release, and i got through the first eight books at a reasonable pace, so i started the unlocked novella thinking i'd get through it even faster because it's only sixteen chapters, right? but no. i was so wrong. it was just so. much. too much. like i'm not kidding when i say i had something to say about keefe like every paragraph of that novella. it was overwhelming as shit and slowing me way down because i couldn't even get through a page of his pov without writing down like a page of rant material.

eventually i stopped because i decided i needed to lay some ground rules about what not to include to make sure that i wasn't just saying effectively the same thing over and over again and running it into the ground. but then, i was also like, but isn't the point of this format of rant to include all of keefe's worst moments and aren't i taking away from that by cutting stuff out, even if it's repetitive? and i didn't know how to resolve that, so my solution was just. do it later. and then i put it down and never got back to it. so that's how much stuff i have to say about keefe in unlocked, lmfao.

he does suck indeed (in my opinion)! it's insane to me, too. i can honestly say i have no clue how people manage to still like him, but then again, he is a fictional character, not a real person, and sometimes likable qualities or a well-written character arc aren't as important to people as relatability, and i'm sure there are many people that relate to him or his trauma.

anyway because you seem eager, have a few excerpts from my unlocked novella rant. just for you, anon:

“[ . . . ] Keefe could feel Fitz’s sour guilt swirling through the air.” (555) Not only was Fitz actively trying to help Keefe feel better, but he also felt bad about reading Keefe’s mind to do it. Keefe had no good intentions with his comment about Sophie and Fitz’s breakup (he literally just did it to rile Fitz up), and didn’t even feel sorry about it afterward. So why do I never see people talking about that, whereas Fitz is questioned for his actions here?

“‘[ . . . ] because you end up making the damage permanent.’ ‘I’m not damaged—’ ‘You’re right. That was the wrong word.’” (556) What the heck??? This always pisses me off so much every time I read it. Keefe purposefully twists Fitz’s words to make it seem like he said something he wasn’t. He made it seem as if Fitz was launching a personal attack on him for his new abilities, where Fitz was simply stating that Keefe would end up with permanent physical damage if he didn’t take his medicine and rest. Just for reference, Sophie said the exact same thing to Keefe in Nightfall and he didn’t immediately accuse her of personally attacking him. So there are some double standards there. But then. Fitz actually coddles Keefe and says that he was right, and claims that he used the “wrong word”. Wow. I- The way everyone in this series just bends to Keefe’s will however little or much sense it makes infuriates me. What the heck, Keefe. Grow a fucking spine. It’s just a word. Why does he have to complain and whine about everything all the time???

“[ . . . ] until Fitz had to go and prove that he was the worst best friend in the history of best friends by asking, ‘Okay, but . . . what about the mimicking?’” (560) He’s the worst best friend because he brought all the information to the table? Wow. And no, Fitz isn’t the worst best friend ever. Keefe is. He takes pleasure in seeing Fitz angry and sad. I can’t imagine a more subtly degrading and manipulative friend to have than Keefe.

“[ . . . ] Fitz told her—because he was begging for a face-punch. And if the world hasn’t gotten so spinny, Keefe might’ve given it to him [ . . . ]” (561) Fun fact, Keefe had an entire moral dilemma in Flashback over the fact that he feels like violence comes easier to him than most other elves. Sophie had to spend an entire forced consolation scene basically lathering him up because he has no fucking spine. So here’s an inconsistency with Keefe’s character right here. He should’ve felt really freaked out by this thought right here because it’s an example of his “violent tendencies” coming out. But he doesn’t. He moves past it like it’s nothing. More proof that Keefe never actually worried about that and Shannon just needed something for Sophie to comfort Keefe over. It never actually amounts to anything of actual value with regards to his arc or story. 

“‘Uh, for the record, most of the emotions are coming from you, Fitzy. You wouldn’t happen to have some unresolved feelings for anyone in this room, would you?’” (561) Keefe continues to purposefully try to provoke Fitz and hurt him for no other reason than that he enjoys seeing his best friend in pain. Why can’t he keep his nose out of other people’s business? Why does he have to be so cruel? Why is Fitz still best friends with this pond scum? All he does is annoy, embarrass, and act cruel toward his supposed “friends”. Why do people like this guy??? He is so toxic, so subtly degrading, so deceptively manipulative, it blows my mind. Does he have something against treating people nicely or something?

“If Fitz’s grumpy resentment had been the only emotion churning around the room, Keefe would’ve let him stand there and stew in it—maybe even made another joke to amp it up. But Foster’s feelings were such a brutal mix of hurt, heartache, and humiliation that he had to mumble, 'Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant—’” (562) What an upstanding guy. What an awesome best friend. When I purposefully say something cruel to make my best friend feel bad, he can take it. But when my crush feels bad? However will she like me if I’m mean to her? It’s just another example of Keefe’s tendency to be cruel for no reason, as well as his obsession with Sophie. He knew he made Fitz feel bad, but he actually considered making it worse. Wow. And “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded” is just a straight-up lie. He meant it to be cruel, and that’s what it came out as. So in case you think Sophie and Keefe’s relationship is built on any sort of trust or mutual comfort, think again. He just tried to gaslight her. Again.

[circlejourney]

How I plan my writing, and then write it: Part 1 of 2

So, ignore the image for now (but not really). I thought it would be funny to start with this visualisation. This chart is specifically about 2 of my stories: Revolving Door and Of the Dragon of the Stars. Both of these novels are in the scale of 300k words or more, so naturally, the ideation and writing process are a bit of a Mess. But before actually going into detail about this "clusterfuck" genre of novel, let me talk at length about my process for shorter novels first.

A few things make Eagles and Swans (the one about an orphaned rebel and the unrest in her country as a banished goddess awakens) and Offshore (the one about two sailors making their last attempt at the most coveted offshore racing trophy in the world) much tamer than the earlier two. First, they follow the points-of-view of just 1-2 characters. Second, they each take place within the confines of a single country / polity, for the most part. Third, the plot events are conveyed in chronological order.

Each important POV character effectively adds an additional story that's being written in parallel. Juggling multiple characters arcs, ordering nonlinear timelines in a way that conveys info in an effective order, AND developing an expansive world, all balloon the story scope. So, thank goodness for stories that require none of the above.

Overall process

I write in three passes, as signified by the three shades of grey in the chart above:

a brief bullet-point outline of the whole story + character summaries

a detailed outline that fleshes out the first outline into a series of chapter hooks / summaries.

the actual novel, first draft.

editing - improving flow and coherence, fixing "telling not showing" etc.

Each stage takes what was in the previous stage and fleshes it out with more detail and more attention to the eventual audience.

Barebones outline

The first pass, for me, is a "thin" outline of major events and major characters' emotional states. It isn't subdivided into sections yet—what I'm really aiming to do is lay out the shape of the story and the rough order of events. A little sample:

Anqien and Jinai prepare for the race in a month's time, the Niro Helfi Race. We are introduced to it through a conversation between the two and/or maybe training or an event for invitees? This race is the biggest in the business! It's a 2000km route in 3 legs Establish that the two MCs are very (almost scarily) skilled, world-class sailors, and simply seem to be underperforming due to unaddressed issues. Internal conflicts established. General structure: ABAB with sailing/non-sailing content

For E&S I actually did this in calendar format, so that I could track the progress of the plot against their school calendar (as well as ensuring that enough time passed between plot events to make it feel like things were developing in the background).

Chapter outline

In the second pass, the outline above gets fleshed out into a backbone of distinct chapters. Not ALL the chapters, only the chapters that need to happen.

At this point I describe 1-2 important events per chapter (except the really important chapters, which get more detailed outlines). What's more important are the characters' takeaways at the end of each chapter - what they learn, or how their feelings evolve. Example (mild spoilers for Offshore):

A bad training day (idk they fall off the yacht from 5m in the air or damage some gear?), we get to see Jinai's stress and resignation and Anqien trying to be positive but visibly affected. The coach gives them an earful about recovery from mistakes They later discuss this and Jinai admits her biggest flaw is giving up too easily. Slice-of-life kind of scene where they go do something stupid/reckless to unwind, and maybe get in trouble

Idea bank

In parallel, I maintain a bank of loose plot points that I would LIKE to include, except I'm not sure where yet. In Offshore, I called them "filler episodes":

Episode: A bit of background about what they do between training Episode: A joyride in a boat. they hire a motorboat from the local boating club and are a nuisance in the rich people area and then head out maybe way too far into the open sea.

In E&S, I maintained a bank of "Chekhov's Guns" that I might bring back later in the plot to create a sense of setup/payoff.

Ruth’s key: unlocks anything, currently lives with Tante. Hyder’s power: to disguise anyone as anyone else. Tante’s knife skills: he’d win any knife duel. And he’s got lots of knives. Tanio’s inventory of inventions: there’s bound to be some stuff there that she can use. Tanio’s meat grinder: grinds meat. Hollia’s job and possessions: an aviary full of birds of all species, including eagles, swans and chickens.

When I come to a point in the novel where I think "something needs to happen here that ISN'T the next groundbreaking plot development," I can quickly whip out one of these concepts.

And now, the actual writing

So now I've got a backbone and a bank of modular content, I come to the moment I've been waiting for. It's worth noting that sometimes the outlining continues to happen even when I start to write, but I do really like to have a finished outline before I start writing the actual prose.

A lot of things happen during the course of writing that I absolutely did not plan for, simply because it's where the story takes me—what instinct tells me would work in the moment. The writing process always surprises me like that, and it's a constant reflexive loop of checking in with what sort of scene/chapter I think would make a good follow-up to the current one, how far to take a scene before closing it off, etc.

The outline is like a leash that keeps the story from flying off course and also a scaffold for when I don't know what to do next. I can check what plot point I need to build towards and then start steering the plot gently in that direction. Then the editing pass is when I'll revisit with a critical eye and link ideas together in a coherent flow, look for the most impactful stopping point for each chapter and prune it, etc.

And longer novels?

So my process for longer stories like RD and OTDOTS is really...an expanded version of the above. Except that the detailed outline can often have multiple levels of subdivision (by volume/story arc -> by location if there are events happening simultaneously in different places -> by chapter), and the planning tends to be more regimental since there's a greater need for the story to feel tight and economical, to maintain momentum.

But there's another post's worth of rambling in that topic, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do at this juncture: put that in its own post.

[blueberry-obsessed]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

DARCY IN MY ASKS YAYYYYY

Thank you for the ask, love <3 I've been itching to talk about writing for the past week or so

Caught up in rumours (I bet you wish you knew the truth) is my favourite. I think maybe it's because it's my most recent one but I still think about it often. It's fluffy, it's sweet, and they're both idiots in love. I feel like with this one, I finally did the idea in my head justice. (I'm also still riding the high of the compliment @starrwrrld gave me on this fic yesterday!! YOURE AN ACTUAL SWEETHEART SAM) Anyhow, sapphic lestappen are my babies. I fluff up their pillows, tuck them into bed every night, give them warm milk, and read them bedtime stories

Trying to Choke Down the Feeling (Bubbling Up Like the Champagne on Your Skin) Okay, I have a love-hate relationship with this one because I know I could have done so much more but at the same time I feel like I did too much. But it's the first fic I ever wrote (I got shy and didn't post it), and therefore, it is my baby. I will cradle it to sleep even if it is sleeping on the floor

You're just so sweet Do I have a reason to like this fic? Not really, I think the formatting is a bit weird, and I could do better. Does it have sapphic lestappen? Yes. Is that the sole reason it's on this list? ...No further questions, your honour. (This fic gets its own room with a fully stocked snack cabinet and the fluffiest pillows known to man, but the windows are locked and permanently sealed because I don't trust it)

I just want you to do me no good (And you look like you could) The only reason this unfinished amalgamation has been put out into the world is because @marieshyperf1xations enabled me. And it's self-indulgent as fuck. Was it remotely near Christmas time when I started writing it? Uh, no, it was actually mid-February. Have I ever celebrated Christmas ever? No, dude, I'm so lost with this one. Will I finish it around Christmas time? God, I hope so. "Go lay down in bed, sweetie. I'll come tuck you in!" "Mum!!! It's midnight. You still haven't shown up :("

I'd do anything to make this memory stay I'll be so real, I have no idea what this is. Royalty AUs are to die for, though, and I wanted to try my hand at it. It's not long enough to be anything substantial, but I think it's cute, and at the end of the day, fluff is all that matters.