#whats up im free from finals and back on my fandom draw bullshit

[ultratoastyart]

saw this post from @incorrect-one-piece-quotes and I HAD TO

[alienheartattack]

Hii! I am also a rivamika shipper and omG I love all of your fanfictions! They are so well written and I smile whenever i read one of them. From ur fics, Im guessing rivamika is ur OTP? But- I have been so inspired by ur fics that I want to write my own Rivamika fanfictions, but my writing is nowhere near as good as urs. Do you have any tips on how I can improve?

Thank you so much for your message! It makes me so happy to know that other people enjoy my fics. There's really nothing better when you're reading a story and the feels hit and you've just got this big grin on your face, so that's the feeling I try to go for when I write.

I would say strictly based on the sheer volume of fic I've written, Rivamika is definitely my OTP. I've had other OTPs in the past but I'd never published much fanfiction for them because I tended to join fandoms well past their peak, but there's a definite theme in all of my shipping adventures: a talented but difficult man and the equally talented woman who sees through his bullshit. (I was really into House/Cuddy from House MD back before the show made them canon and then sunk the ship into the Mariana fucking Trench in like 8 episodes. Everyone, please count your blessings that Rivamika isn't canon.)

As for improving your writing... I'm going to try not to write a novel about this because I have Many Feelings About Writing. First off I would caution you not to compare yourself to other writers, but rather look at them as sources of inspiration and emulation. (Mainly I just feel weird when younger fic writers compare themselves to me, since I have an extensive background in writing and editing, I've read a ton, I studied writing in college, and during my last fandom hiatus I got into live comedy and wrote multiple sketch and variety shows as well as a whole-ass play. One of the reasons why I'm as good as I am is because I've been doing this for so long.)

The very unsexy but true answer is that good writing is born from discipline and developing your own practice. Every creative writing teacher I've had has said something along the lines of, "I cannot teach you how to write. I can give you tools and the opportunity to workshop your writing, but you have to figure out the writing process that works best for you." Some people are more productive in the morning or at night; you might write longhand, on your phone, or on a computer; you might start writing with only inspiration to guide you or you might outline extensively before you start. You have to figure out which of these methods work best for you and figure out how to schedule time to write. (Personally, I write mostly at night, I outline extensively, and I take notes on my phone whenever inspiration strikes me because I know I'm going to lose the idea unless I write it down immediately. It's taken years of trial and error to get to this point. My process is still pretty haphazard but it's what works for me.)

To write well, you have to write a whole lot of shit first. It's just a fact; my first drafts are absolute trash and I hate them a lot of the time, but I try not to get discouraged because it's just a skeleton of the final product. You're probably not going to like what you write at first, but all that means is that your skill level doesn't match your taste level yet. If you let that piece of writing sit for a while and come back to it after you've done more reading and more writing days or weeks later, you'll be able to better identify what you don't like and be able to fix it. Ideally you want to do some kind of writing every day or close to it, whether that's writing down an idea in your notes app, scribbling in a notebook on your lunch break, dedicating yourself to a practice of morning pages, or something similar. Even spacing out and thinking about your story can be productive, but only if you write down what you come up with.

Aside from discipline, being a well-rounded writer boils down to developing several core skills:

Reading: You want to read everything you can get your hands on — and I mean everything. The goal is to train yourself to identify writing that you like and to be able to explain why you like it, then employ those devices and concepts in your own writing. Even if you're only planning on writing fiction, there's still amazing writing to be found in nonfiction. (Food writing and travel writing in particular tend to be very evocative in their descriptions.) I also take inspiration from poetry for its impactful use of language. The more you read, the more ideas and stories and references you'll be aware of, and you'll be able to pull inspiration from a wider breadth of resources. If you're still in school, learning critical reading in your literature classes applies here: being able to identify themes, character traits, tropes, rhetorical and literary devices, etc. will help you develop your own preferences and taste.

Researching: I use a dictionary and thesaurus whenever I write. I have a whole folder on my computer of writing resources I've compiled over the years. I google things all the time, even really dumb stuff or basic facts just so I'm certain that I got it right. I think the old adage of "write what you know" doesn't mean that you can only write based on your life experience; rather, you can teach yourself about all kinds of subjects and write about them with a degree of certainty without having directly experienced them yourself. For example, when I write fanfiction with a Rivamika baby, I figure out what I need the kid to do (walk, say cute things, etc.) and then research infant development to see how old the child needs to be in order for these things to be realistic. I once got some feedback on Inexorable that Hana was written like a real child, which made me feel amazing because at the time I was literally never around babies. However, I was able to draw on my limited past experiences with other people's kids and my own research to portray a young toddler somewhat accurately.

Editing: It is a massively helpful skill to be able to read your own writing and approach it with a distant, critical eye. I worked on my high school and college newspapers and learned how to edit other people's writing that way. (Beta reading is a good way to practice this skill.) Being edited at the paper also taught me to stop being possessive over my own writing, even when I thought it was brilliant. Writing is about conveying ideas to another person, usually a total stranger, which means clarity is ultimately more important than adding artistic flourishes. I've also recently started using the Grammarly plugin for basic grammar stuff that I tend to forget. This also ties in with reading; the more you read, the more you'll be able to identify and replicate more effective writing, and the easier time you'll have identifying deficiencies in your own writing.

I've written enough already (I wasn't kidding about the novel) so I'll close with one last tip that is universally helpful: read your writing out loud. Most of the time, you can figure out what you want to say simply by verbalizing it or you'll realize, "Oh, no one talks like this, I would have said X in this situation" and that'll help you write more clearly and realistically.

I love talking about writing (obviously), so feel free to inbox me if you have more questions!

[tumblunni]

Gradually working my way thru learning about the yokai watch 3 villains, lol. Cant manage to restrain myself from taking just a teeny lil peek at spoilers! I blame that person drawing all the super awesome redemprion headcanon comicry with the cute oc YOU HAVE CURSED ME WITH YOUR GREATNESS

Ok so apparantly mafia ghost dude fuckin loves space and then GOT EXILED TO SPACE FOR 555 YEARS?? His only fuckin crime at the time was believing in ufos and everyone else was like 'nah bro' LIKE CMON UR LITERALLY GODDAMN GHOSTS BUT ALIENS IS TOO ABSURD FOR YOU??? So somehow this dude ended up making it to space and getting trapped on a meteor completely alone for like a bazillion years and holy shit no wonder he turned evil. Like what sort of ironic karma bullshit is it to be like 'i heard u like this thing how about we lock you up there forever unable to move or scream'.

Also seriously AGENT X WAITED 555 YEARS TO SET HIM FREE AND MAKE HIS DREAMS COME TRUE!!! He says he has no regrets! Aaaaa man i really think this whole plot would be even more emotional if they were a couple. Im just getting that vibe!! Im sorry i cant help it u give me two weird ghost dads in stylish suits and a I'LL WAIT FOR YOU FOREVER plot and a MY ONLY DREAM IS SEEING YOUR DREAM COME TRUE and just seriously man look at that quality ship angst. WHY NO HAPPY ENDING THO

And i'm just thinking now about how emotional their reunion probably was. Like i'm imagining Agent X has a hard time being honest about his feelings cos yknow ghoulfather is the boss of the organization and so far out of his league and such. (And he totally doesnt realize that he's his super valued second in command) So when ghoulfather comes back he's probably wrestling with his gut instinct to run forward and embrace him, because Seriously He Is Your Superior It Will Never Happen, Why Am I Like This. So he's just trying to play it all cool and be like "welcome boss i was totally confident that our plan would work and not incredibly depressed for the last few centuries umm here's your coat" And that thing where the character is crying but they dont notice until they put their hand to their face!! That! That scene!! Have one of those in there, yes! And then possibly mid sentence ghoulfather cuts him off and hugs him, and theyre both just finally honest about how much they missed each other. Aaaand then probably five seconds later theyre like *ahem* *professional voice* "well better get back to work"

Also the game probably wouldnt go into any detail with stuff like muscular atrophy or readjusting to earth gravity or the sheer level of phobia that must be in this man's brain from the constant isolation and how hard it must be to adjust back to talking to people when all he's had for so long is his imagination. But fics can explore all that recovery progress! This is our power, to heal the sad villains with our words!

I was just randonly thinking a sweet date scene for them early on in this plot could be Agent X and Ghoulfather going to a random italian restaurant NOT because its a date totally, but just because its been so long since he's been on earth and its something that could maybe cheer him up. But then they just end up complaining together about how modern restaurants in america are so often not run by italian people and have all this weird american versions of stuff, so it ended up not being very memorable after all. Also crappy wheelchair access! (Cos he'd still be recovering at this time) So yeah it ends up being weirdly fun and romantic for two hours of getting pissed off at terrible service. Getting pissed off at terrible service... Together~!

Also probably eight days later Ageny X suddenly realizes "holy shit taking my boss out to a candlelit restaurant just the two of us is MAYBE slightly flirty". I feel like he's a bit of a disaster at expressing his feelings and only ever manages to make the first move when its accidental. But also has like a natural charisma of accidental flirting which means half the damn mafia has a crush on him, lol. Oh also i was considering like a love triangle thing with rongo? But not any of the stereotypical awful love triangle fighty plots. Just rongo having a crush in agent x and sadly agent x was already in love with ghoulfather and doesnt recipricate. But theyre still best friends even though agent x turned him down, and now rongo is the only one who knows about agent x's crush on ghoulfather and he tries to play ultimate wingman between the two. Like 'i want you to be happy even if it isnt with me!!' So he'd probably be the most pissed off if ghoulfather ever betrayed agent x's trust, i feel like agent x would just blame himself for it and rongo would stand up for him like DAMN DUDE DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH HE MISSED YOU WHEN YOU WERE GONE, YOU RIGHT DENSE BASTARD? That sort of conflict between them, not the more cliche conflict of all three people in a love triangle just being all jealous and secretive and dumb.

Oh also unrelatedly i think Slackerjack and Rongo would be friends? Cos the only time ive seen that slackerjack has any dialogue about him he calls him "a good boy who's quite loud but means well". I can imagine Slackerjack being like that nice grandpa who comes to all of 'little rongo''s music recitals, lol. Or like that meme of 'momma needs her tunes' *death metal blares*. He has all of rongo's cds! Ok actually that mental image is super adorable of this big rockstar dude being like 'omg grampa look im here omg i have to make you proud'. I just feel like rongo is 100% adorable at all times and also has positive relationships with every one of his coworkers like the ray of sunshine that he is. He probably memorizes the names of every single minor minion and gives them all birthday cards. I love this big ol dork.

Anyway this has been Bunni Rambling About Potentially Redeemable Villains They Know Very Little About But Are Very Eager To Meet And Fandomize Over

They all just so good, u guys

[ifridiot]

1 3 12 19 for fanfic asks

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

oh god this is difficult. Hmm. I have a few, because... I have written over a hundred short stories this year, and I honestly can’t pic just one. Sticking with what I posted on AO3, I am quite pleased with the entirety of the Let Them Eat Flesh series, especially The Widening Gyre and Wretched and Joyful. Delicate was such a monumental effort for me, and I think i could have done better at capturing the emotions it was meant to evoke, but it’s still quite solid and I’m pleased with it. Things Change, My Dear is quite good, if only because of the discussions we’ve had about the AU and the work you’ve done from the foundations I knocked together. I am maliciously fond of Never, if only because of the disgust I’ve received in response to the idea of Frank Castle having, of all things, a gun kink. Of course, Memento Mori, Puncture Repair, and Come Home really laid the ground work for how I wanted to present my takes on these characters.

For fandoms that are not The Punisher, I’m particularly pleased with Protector, because I quite enjoy Nate and Wade calling each other out on their bullshit. Science is Cool was just a lot of fun to write and I absolutely adore seeing people’s reactions to it -- a lot like Memento Mori, honestly. Owned and Jarmed in the Target Jathroom were both supremely enjoyable to write. I loved doing the stupid ass puns in Jarmed, and Owned is of course about War, so what’s not to love? A Green Eyed Demon is... well, it’s just a lot of things I like, okay. Jealousy, pining, Nate knowing Wade way too well... it’s fun and sexy. And of course, the first published fic of the year deserves a mention, because I got to write an old, old love of mine, so Drunken Lament, there you are.

GONNA HAVE TO DO THE REST UNDER A CUT, YOU BASTARD.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Jesus christ. Okay. I’m going to try to be reasonable here. One or two lines from only the Best Fics. Oh who the fuck am I kidding... 

“You smell,” Kakuzu says by way of greeting, “like expensive sake. And self-pity.” 

(from Drunken Lament)

"Fuckin' cunt," he snarls, "you stupid fucking," blood dripping down his face, all over the carpet, all over Wade, and Wade musters half the strength in his body and throws Nate off over his head. His body makes a satisfying thud on the dingy carpet, and Wade launches at him, pins him again, always on the stomach, and this time he bites Nate's neck, leaves uneven pinpoint marks where his teeth have been, not drawing blood though he could, he could so very easily. Nate groans.  

(from Glittering)

It becomes easier to avoid him. Only go over when he needs something, and even then, scurry away at the first sexy sign emanating from the apartment, stop going on missions together unless Nate comes asking him to help out. A man can only jack it so many times behind a dumpster before he starts having unhealthy associations with the smell of hot trash. He can think about getting fucked six ways to Sunday by everyone’s favorite scowling soldier in his own room, thankyouverymuch, and it’s nicer to jerk off where there are clean tissues on hand. 

(from A Green Eyed Demon)

“Would it be easier to come if I were fucking you like you don’t matter?” 

(from A Green Eyed Demon, also fuck that is a Horny Line)

“The jurtains,” he whispers, and Nate gives him a look, which just seems to make him even more pleased with the find. “We need them. Those are what we want. Good eye, honeypie.”

“What the fuck,” Nate says slowly, not sure he wants to know, “are jurtains?”

“Curtains but denim,” Wade replies with utter earnest sincerity. “It’s – don’t give me that face – it’s basic English.” 

(from Jarmed in the Target Jathroom)

Okay so I would basically be copying the whole back half of Jarmed, but... Pretty much all the dialog while Nate’s jerking Wade off is just Good. All the denim puns.

Once, when he’d been another man, a weaker man, he’d loved Wade.

In his own way, he still did; loved him and wanted him safe and kept and all his own. But it was easy to hate him, too; his arrogance and selfishness and constant cries for attention.

But Wade belonged to him now. And in a way, owning him was better than loving him alone had ever been.

(from Owned. I really love how crisply this highlights the difference between War and Nathan.)

When he finally thrusts into the tight, pliant heat of Wade’s body, he focuses on his TK, stripping the scarred flesh from muscle from bone down Wade’s back. Wade moans, smothering the wet tearing sound of the mutilation, his tone dripping with lust and excitement, audibly delighted over the flesh flaying from his body. As it comes free, the blood and tissue is held by telekinetic force all around them, extending out from Wade in a gory fan.

(from Owned. This is just disgusting and I live for it)

“Fuck you,” Wade says pleasantly, and then groans beautifully at the sensation of the raw muscle and nerve of his back being torn open again. “This? This is all for me. If you were really punishing me, I wouldn’t get dick, pun very much intended; you’d leave me all alone for a few more fuckless days, and if you ever thought for a goddamn second about me anymore, maybe you’d figure out why I keep trying to run away so often.”

(from Owned)

It’s all Wade’s fault, he thinks furiously as he digs his fingers in hard enough to feel something crunch, blood welling under his fingers, clutching hard to the skin under his fingers and squeezing until the frustration leaks out between his knuckles. It’s Wade’s fault. Because Wade’s skin feels like it’s burning, always, imprinting on War’s back and hips and thighs as he futilely tries to cling. Because Wade doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, doesn’t try to placate him, doesn’t make him feel like any more of a man even when he’s bucking under him and making strangled, incoherent noises like he’s drowning, they’re both drowning, and he can’t get enough air or enough of War. Because when it’s done, and his heart is still stuffed up somewhere in his throat, War knows Wade will beg him to stay for cuddles he hasn’t got time to indulge in, like they’re just two of a kind, two normal people living normal lives together.

(From Owned. Love that War still has so much complex emotion)

Bearded Nate isn’t just taller, his version of the TO is cleaner, somehow, sinking in a smooth line under his flesh, swallowing his arm and dancing down his side, his hip, his leg. Short!Nate is more organic looking, very nice with the scars and the proud flesh and the jagged lines of metal bursting from under his skin. He’s got a thick vein of TO running up his dick, and Wade’s mouth waters at the sight, his brain going hazy at the thought of getting that inside him. As soon as possible, yes please.

(from Science is Cool)

Laughter bubbles up out of him like the kind of vomit you get after drinking too much soda too quickly, frothy and jagged. 

(from Science is Cool. Such a Wade line

“Is curiosity really going to kill the Cable?” He asks, closing his eyes again. He’s very tired uddenly. He liked not remembering. He wants to get back to that. “Bodyslide outta here. Your Wade is in another castle. This is not the Wade you’re looking for. Good fuck though, thanks for that.”

“Wade.”

“War is coming. That’s what you go by here. So get the fuck out. Please.”

(from Science is Cool. I know this is a spoiler for the whole fic, but god i love this line)

The more they start to work together, once things get rolling, the harder it is to find his disgust for this man, this man who ruined lives trying to do the right thing. The sickest part, to Frank at least, is that one day he’s thinking about that, about how David ruined so much just trying to do the right thing, and realizes he’s proud of David. David did what a lot of people would have refused to do, David took initiative, David tried his damnedest to do right. And it had destroyed everything, there had been no justice, no grand revelation of corruption.

(from Come Home)

He watches Frank like he knows the kind of pain he’s in and wants to spare him and when he realizes that, he responds the same way he always had when he’d caught Maria with that look on her face. He forces himself to act more put together, forces himself to get over the bullshit. Because Maria hadn’t deserved the concern he’d tormented her with, and maybe David didn’t either.

(from Come Home)

They’re drinking one night when David leans over and kisses him. Frank makes a point to never have more than a couple fingers of anything harder than beer, but David gets white girl wasted when he’s upset.

(from Come Home. The phrase ‘white girl wasted’ makes this)

It’s some time later that Sarah kisses him. Between the two of them, the Liebermans are going to give him some kind of fucking complex.

(from Come Home. GOD, POOR FRANK LMAO)

I can’t take it if you go, David is saying, though he’s beyond words. I will die, if you die.

He wants to tell him how wrong he is. He knows from experience. It might feel like you’re dead for a while, and you might wish you were dead for even longer, but the loss wouldn’t kill you. That was the cruelest part of it.

(from, you guessed it, Come Home. Im sorry)

Frank watches David disappear into his house and drives away before anyone else can come out and try convincing him to stay. It’s a bittersweet parting – David deserves to go home to his family. Frank’s not sure what he deserves, but he’s starting to think maybe this unending loneliness isn’t it.

(from Come Home. The good news is, that’s the end of the fic.)

(the bad news is, now it’s time for Puncture Repair)

Sarah missed Pete, maybe. Missed someone who’d snuck in, like a thief, to get close to her, to have something to hold over her husband. Who had offered comfort in a hard time. Somehow she’s missing the part where Frank could have gotten her husband killed for real. She’s missing the part where Frank’s blood brother had abducted and could have murdered her and her son. She’s missing the part where Pete was an act (until he wasn’t) and hadn’t ever been meant to mean anything to her.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s trying to be that, more often now – he’s terrified of seeing her again, of seeing her realize how bad an idea it is for him to be around them. Because Sarah is smart, Sarah is brave and determined and wants to keep her family safe. She’s not like David, too close to see the danger.

(from Puncture Repair. Love Frank being terrified of Sarah hating him, acknowledging that she has cause to.)

And maybe that’s the right thing to do. Maybe hurting David now will help the dumbass get over this. Because Frank loves him, and he knows what his love does to people. He sees it every time he tries to sleep. He can’t stand the idea of seeing it happen again, here, in waking.

But when has he ever done the right thing where David is concerned? David had given so much to Frank; his trust, his affection, his fucking blood, pumping through Frank’s veins. Frank takes and takes because he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s greedy for what David offers, for the chance to spend some time being alive after so long of being dead.

(from Puncture Repair)

When David’s hand comes to rest, gently, on his arm, his whole body tenses up, reflex curling his fists as he snaps his head toward David, face an angry mask, warning. David doesn’t even flinch. He looks concerned, though. Not afraid – David’s not afraid of Frank because while David might be a certifiable genius, he’s still an idiot. Frank could kill him in fifteen ways without breaking a sweat, and David knows that.

His hand strokes over Frank’s arm, and Frank holds his breath. Lets it out. Breathes again.

He’s working on a lot of things. Sometimes, it even seems like he’s getting better.

(from Puncture Repair)

“It’s called a spare room, Frank,” David says, patiently and patronizing at the same time, forcing the air in the room to lighten with his stab at humor. Frank’s lip twitches. “Some even call it a ‘guest room’. Guests are people you invite into your house to –”

“I know what guests are, asshole.”

“Well, I just wonder, you know, since you act like you were raised outdoors.”

(from Puncture Repair)

He needs to leave. He should leave. He stands and glares at David instead, feet planted, hands curled. It’s like being back in the power station basement, when he had no where else to be. Part of him knows he can go at anytime, the rest of him is stripping gears in a war over whether he needs to destroy this thing happening between him and David before it gets David hurt.

(from Puncture Repair)

“You ever get tired of punishing yourself, Frank?”

David’s voice is so gentle and so tired, laced with a bitterness that is so familiar. Frank is used to people giving up on arguing with him. He knows what it sounds like.

“No,” He says sharply, because it’s easier to deny than acknowledge that there’s even a chance that David’s got him figured out.

“Now who’s lying?”

(from Puncture Repair)

“You gonna hit me, Frank?” David asks. Frank just pushes him harder against the wall, face twisted in a snarl. David smiles very gently, as if, up close, he’s seeing something too. Frank really does flinch when fingers stroke over his cheek, David reaching up to gently frame his face in his hands. “See, I don’t think you are.”

“You don’t know me, David, you think you do, but you don’t know –”

David drags him in, and Frank lets himself be dragged. The kiss is hot and inevitable and somehow furious. David hums, the sound surprised but accepting when Frank bites at his mouth. His death grip on David’s shirt relaxes, until his hands are just resting over David’s chest, holding him to the wall as David steals his breath. His eyes are blue, so blue; Frank could never look in those eyes and imagine he was with anyone else. No one had eyes like that.

(from Puncture Repair. Damn, David)

David deserves better. Frank still doesn’t know what he deserves.

(from Puncture Repair. Frank, stop being a jackass please)

“You never shut up. You tellin’ me this is all I gotta do to make you quiet?”

A little whine, indignant, helpless, and Frank chuckles. “You still think about me suckin’ you off, David?” He asks quietly, moving his hand to pull, carefully, at the button of the fly. The zipper, when he jerks it down, sounds loud in the quiet room. “What was it again? Rough, behind a dumpster? Real romantic imagery, there.”

David’s dick is hot and hard in his hand when he shoves his way past the waistband of his underwear, gripping him firmly. Fingers clutch back to his shoulder, David’s hips twitching into his touch. He leans in, so he’s talking against David’s hair, feeling the softness of those curls as he mutters in David’s ear. “What’s it gonna be, huh? There’s no dumpster, but I know you got a vivid imagination.”

(from Puncture Repair. :Eyes Emoji: amirite?)

“Lemme do this for you, Frank,” David says softly, and he’s begging, quiet and restrained but it’s still begging, pleading to be allowed to touch him. “You’re always giving for me. You never take. It’s not right. Lemme do this.”

(from Puncture Repair. Love this throwback/contradiction to Frank’s obsessive thoughts over how he’s always taking from David.)

David stands at the top of the steps, looking out at the street like he’s waiting for something he knows isn’t coming. He’s slouched more than usual, one arm wrapped around himself, half a hug, and the other held at his side, something glinting in his hand. Frank wonders if he’s drunk, and watches him turn back towards the door and decides both yes, he is, and also that he’s not too drunk. And the ridiculous urge to get out of the van passes when David turns away and opens the door, tossing back the end of whatever’s in his glass as he crosses the threshold. Frank turns the engine back on and pulls away before it can come back.

(from Memento Mori)

If asked why, Frank would never in a million years be able to answer. It’s like asking a half drowned man, why breathe when he’s offered fresh air – because it’s a need. Because he had to. He had to step in closer, bringing his hands up to brush away those tears. And when David surges against him, kissing him? He had to wrap his arms around that shivering frame, had to kiss back.

(from Memento Mori)

Frank remembers Maria touching him much the same way when he’d first come home, and god, that hurts. Hurts his heart, but maybe not as bad as it should, and he doesn’t know if that means he’s healing or not. He doesn’t even know anymore if healing is a good thing – without the pain, he’s not sure he knows how to define himself anymore.

(from Memento Mori)

What they end up doing on the floor, which is hard and cold and not exactly the ideal place, is sloppy and needy and rough. It’s months of pent up frustration, it’s finally allowing something that both had wanted and neither had dared address. Its fast and dirty and satisfying, David’s breath on Frank’s neck rabbit-quick and sharp as they grind together, shirtless, their pants hitched low. Frank thinks he’s got the feel of the hardwood against his back memorized, the way it digs and drags with every thrust and roll of David’s hips.

(from Memento Mori)

He’s thinking about wants and how they creep up on you. He’s thinking about needs, what each person in the world needs to survive, and if affection – not love, not desire, but honest affection – is one of those needs. He’s thinking about his children, dead and buried, and sleeping upstairs.

(from Memento Mori)

By some miracle the kids actually obey, letting Frank loose and running off to go chatter at David a million questions – When had Frank gotten there, where had he come from, was he staying, how long was he staying –before the tears rise in Frank’s eyes. He’s shoving them away with the heels of his hands, trying to play it off as rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but when Sarah envelops him in a hug of her own, he knows she knows. She holds his face against her shoulder, curled over him as he sits, and combs her fingers through his hair.

(from Memento Mori)

That’s how he ends up with a fully furnished house – not just a couch and a bed to sleep on, but a table to eat at, an easy chair David likes to lay across the arms of rather than recline in normally, a coffee table he puts his feet on and Sarah, when she catches him, slaps him on the shin to make him stop, despite it being his.

(from Memento Mori. I know this is a dumb bit, but like... domesticity...)

That’s all the justification Frank needs to bring her home, and then – well would you look at that. The house, it’s… well. With Molly to come back to and a bed to sleep in, a kitchen he feels obligated to keep stocked with food because why else should he be paying for the electricity to power the fridge, a living room he entertains David’s family in sometimes – all the sudden, it’s not just a house. It’s home.

He has a home.

He blames David for that. Blaming is easier than thanking.

(from Memento Mori)

Home is three blocks away, with his dog and his own bed, but sometimes home is here, too.

(from Memento Mori)

When he’s home, though, he’s known. He is Frank, just Frank, and he is loved. He loves in return, and god – god but it’s good. It’s about the living, it’s about the living.

(from Memento Mori)

He doesn’t say he loves them, but he shows it in everything he does. He’s working up to it, working up to externalizing the things he feels so deeply. This is his family, and he won’t let anything happen to them this time. He has a second chance and he will do it right this time.

(from Memento Mori, also WHY DID I DO THIS)

Something crashes in the kitchen and the laughter cuts off as everyone turns to look at Sarah. Frank meets her eyes as her skin darkens and breaks. He’s on his feet and she’s crumbling, blowing apart in the barest breeze. Leo screams, and Frank’s head snaps back to the table, away from the horror of Sarah turning to dust, to look at his little girl and see – “no, no, no” – her skin going dull, her outstretched hand crumbling to ash as she reaches for – “no, no, no” – David, who sits in stunned shock, looking at his own crumbling hands and then up at Frank, those piercing eyes pleading in a way they never had before, and he breathes the softest curse, almost a laugh, before his face is gone and Frank looks across the table and there’s Zach – “no, no, no, wait, no” with his hands pressed flat to the table, all eyes as he watches, helpless, alone in the way the solemn child often seems to be, and slowly falls apart.

(from Memento Mori)

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone. Some trick of the breeze stirs the ashy dust in the air, drawing it toward him so his dark clothes are filmed with a fine coating of it, so he’s breathing – he gags and covers his mouth and nose, struggling.

The dust – the dust which is his family – is so thick now, floating aimless in the air, directionless as the breeze from the open door settles again. There are piles around the table and on the kitchen floor, piles of dust that he can identify by location but by no other factor as his – “oh god.”

(from Memento Mori)

When he feels a cold, wet something press against his ankle he jumps, startled, whipping around to find the threat, something – but it’s only Molly. Molly, looking scared, shivering, but whole. Molly is still here and he clings to that as he goes through the process of finding her leash, putting it on her. They need to leave the house. He can’t be here, he can’t keep – the dust is in the air, the dust is them and he can’t hold his breath so he’s breathing –

(from Memento Mori)

Memento mori, he hears David explain to him, deep in his head, in his memory. You will die.

Except it’s never him that dies.

For the living, it was for the living, the living.

Someone has done something monumentally stupid, and whether it was intentional or not, they’ve hurt his family. They’ve taken from him.

For the living, memento mori

He pulls out his phone, the very same one David left for him so long ago now, and he calls Curt. There is no answer, and his fingers leave dusty prints where the brush the numbers. He chokes out something approximate to ‘Call me ASAP please’, but he doesn’t think Curtis is in a way to make phone calls.

(from Memento Mori)

Well, Frank knows monsters, and he knows they can die.

Memento mori.

He knows he can put them down.

You will die.

He can only hope.

(from Memento Mori)

“Here in public?” David intones, thoughtful and pleasant, miles away from his old habitual nervousness. “Think about all the attention we’d get. You wanna get Pete in the papers? Maybe someone with a camera phone and a steady hand get you up on YouTube; Brave Man Fights Off Would-Be Gunman. The text doesn’t point out your pretty necklace, but everyone sees it. Everyone knows, and when the smart ones watch, they recognize the way you move. Is that how you wanna get back in the public eye, Frank,” David murmurs, smug and calm, gun pressed steadily against his spine, “everybody wondering who’s bitch you are?”

(From Never)

He thinks about the bullet tearing through, shattering everything in its path. This close, it’d be a horrific mess. Almost certain death.

His cock is hard against the sheets, and what that says about him, he doesn’t want to examine much.

(from Never. I fuckin love how fucked up Frank is)

David hasn’t known any touch but his own in almost a year. The little bit of contact he’d gotten from Frank up to now had been accompanied by pain. No wonder he’s trembling. No wonder his hands are white-knuckled fists on his knees.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

When David touches his wing, just the trace of fingers over the upper curve, he flinches away. It’s almost the same, sharp denial he’d shown Karen, and he feels his breath catch in his chest. The was a new war inside him; what he thought he deserved versus what he knew he needed. But ultimately, it was a glance over his shoulder, the sight of David’s face, so sad and so alone and so willing to just accept that Frank wouldn’t allow this after all, that makes him steady himself on his feet and lower his wings, slow and deliberate.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

A kiss is communication. It can say different things. This kiss is soft and questioning, not quite chaste. It says I’m hungry, it says I can wait. It is a promise, and a dare, and an assurance. David never takes more than is offered; David can be a selfish little shit, but he respects boundaries.

So Frank pushes his wings open, a sudden show of force that knocks David back, so his own wings flutter, just barely keeping himself on his feet. Frank turns on David, rounds on him with his wings raised, posturing without meaning to. Later, David will describe to him the way he looks in that moment, his face set, his wings aloft, stepping toward David ‘like the wrath of God’, and he’ll say that, his tone torn between amusement and awe, and Frank will have no choice but to punch his shoulder call him, affectionately, a jackass.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

Frank thinks about pulling away, and all the ways a man can do that. He thinks about loneliness so vast and dark that you were blinded by it. He thinks about the softness of a man and all the ways he could be hurt, all the ways it does and doesn’t show. Eyes so blue they can’t be real, glistening with tears, shining with fury, bright on him with delight.

At some point, he falls asleep too, and that’s better.

(from Things Change, My Dear)

You know what, i’m done, thats all i have in me. next question blease

12. favorite character to write about this year

Frank Castle, David Lieberman, or Wade Wilson. Had fun with all of ‘em.

19. any new fics to start next year

hmm, i don’t really think that far ahead. I plan to finish the last two Important, Main Plot stories for Let Them Eat Flesh before New Years. I have an idea rolling around for more Cablepool/Liebercaste crack and yes you read that correctly, so maybe that.

[wi-fu]

Hi wifu! I’ve been following your blog for a while and I really love your work! How did you get so popular?

This is…a very wide topic to discuss!

I feel like it’s really easy to forget that having ‘appealing’ art and being a very skilled artist are two different things. Why did that sketch by that popular artist get thousand of notes but my full illustration with background only got 5 notes? That’s very discouraging. Does that mean my drawing was worse? Not really, at least not in terms of execution.

It’s a little harsh to put it this way, but think of it as if we were on Tinder. It only takes two second to swipe left if your artwork doesn’t catch the viewer’s attention.

There’s a huge difference between being skilled and knowing how to present your art, and blaming others for not getting notes is a detrimental way of thinking that will only slow you down!

This is not just some anti-negativity bullshit. It’s practical. It’s not the average viewer’s fault if he ignored or “just liked” your piece without reblogging. Blaming external causes for your own lack of popularity just makes it so you keep doing what you do blindly, holding yourself back from improving.

I recommend checking this post by tamberella out for a much better understanding (and more insightful tips) on the topic of appealing art.

It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t strive for popularity (after all, especially if art’s gonna be your job, it’s important to understand what works and what doesn’t, in a field in which communication is key), but make sure you do it with understanding instead of blaming others or guilt tripping them into reblogging your art. (I made a comic about this a while ago)

Back to your question…there’s not a specific way to become popular.  I can only offer a few tips on attitude / blog management / drawing:

Practicing by drawing a lot is important but practicing by observing a lot is the key to improvement! Being exclusively self-referential leads to stagnation.

Observe what other people do, understand why certain things work more than others do. This doesn’t mean you should copy specific pieces. Just take the overall vibe of something and rework it. See what people like!

Find popular artists who do something you feel is similiar to what you do. Understand what is it that makes their art so appealing.

Artstyles work as a the sum of their parts. There are so many parameters when ‘rating’ a drawing. Anatomy, lineart, coloring, composition, style, perspective, posing etc. are just a few of them, and just because you have an understanding of some it doesn’t mean you got it all figured out. For example, realistic shading might not be the best choice with very cartoony proportions, but might work in some cases. Analyze single pieces instead of a whole gallery!

Make separate folders for the art you like solely for its content (as in fandom/character depicted), and the art you like for how it’s made. Name the folders accordingly, such as concept, composition, coloring, poses, etc. You’ll need these more than you realize.

Tag your drawings in the right way. The first 5 tags are the only ones showing up in the tumblr /tagged/ (and the first 20 tags are ones showing up in /search/), so use them carefully instead of filling them up with #this sucks i know im sorry, #i did this very quickly, #im so tired, and so on.

Be consistent! You won’t get much of a following if you post a sketch once every six months.

It’s ok to reblog your own art once or twice but filling your followers’ dash with the same drawing over and over again won’t make it suddenly go viral, so finding a good balance might be useful

Negativity can be very heavy to handle sometimes, and people who don’t know you just wanna have a good time looking at your art, without the angry/sad stuff. Getting an art-only blog might be a good idea - this is especially true if you’re not ranting about your personal life, but about the lack of attention your art gets. Be nice to your followers, blaming them for not reblogging your art is counterproductive!

Give it time! Regardless of your skill, it’s gonna take a while to gain an audience.

On a final note, I would like to clarify that at the end of the day you’re free to draw whatever you want, these are just tips for a better understanding of how visual impact affects the amount of visibility you get. As long as you’re having fun, keep drawing whatever it is that you’re drawing!

I hope this was somewhat helpful. Take care!

[tmntfandom2012]

I blame Ciro for this...

Note: We all have our opinions and rants. This is mine.

Alright, I took a back seat long time ago with rants, I PRAISED this show. STUCK UP for Ciro all this time. I dont blame the whole TMNT crew cause they were doing their job. But I will blame you CIRO.

From the very beginning you said you had 5 seasons planned. So this “finale” of yours was planned? Really? When even the network changes it up, that kinda gives you an idea, it should give you an idea that, the “Finale” wasnt child friendly. IM AN ADULT AND THAT SHIT WASNT FRIENDLY WITH ME.

We can handle alot. Well I can, I dont know about others. I wont speak for others. But for myself, I handled Splinters deaths, the fast pacing, and the stuff that made no fucking sense what so ever. I handled your stupid obsession with monsters back in the day, and with your annoying references, I put up with the ending to that space arc, WHICH ILL ADMIT I LOVED IT, but of course you had to make it so...deflated.

Season 4 should of been the ending to this series. Season 5 should of never been made, and if it had, you should of resolved the fucking stuff you started not make insane bullshit tales. Granted the crossover arc and ICK was indeed canon and legit, but it again held nothing. Usagi arc, while it was amazing to see him, IT DID FUCKING NOTHING.

YOU ALSO HAD A FUCKING CHANCE TO SAY APRIL’S MOTHER DIED IN FUCKING SEASON 3. But why the fuck would you say that you----

Okay. Breathe Mik. Breathe. I know its not totally Ciro’s fault, for the other arcs, but this “Finale” bullshit I BLAME HIM FOR. IT has his name written all over it. You seriously just couldnt give these teens a happy ending could you? I legit see why Nick canned your ass. If it was up to, the turtles would of either been horrible injured or killed. Splinter already died for shit sake. Like in season 5, i ACTUALLY STARTED MISSING THE KRAANG AND SHREDDER. Why? BECAUSE THOSE WERE ACTUALLY GOOD FUCKING PLOTS YOU DIP---

Argh. My rage. 

Im trying to be level headed here. Im trying to be calm. Im trying to see your side Ciro. But honestly I cant. To say you have respect for the turtles and then go and do this to them was just, mind blowing.

Now Im not saying go be a dick to this guy, sadly he had his version, thank god its fucking over. YEAH I JUST SAID THAT YOU DICK. but that doesnt mean I cant be mad. I will be mad for a while. We should be mad. NO KID WANTED YOUR SHITTY “FINALE” hell not even adults. YOU WASTED OUR TIME. But why the fuck would you care? You got paid. You got your joy. Just wow. I heard your other shows you did ended great ((forgive me if im wrong)) so why couldnt this show? 

I dont know, I know im being unfair, but I cant help but to think this stupid finale was on Ciro himself. He never liked master splinter, and it shows in all the finales except season 1. I kinda think Nick had it when you tried it for a third time. HELL I HAD IT WHEN SEASON 4 HIT.

Whats bad is, IM LOOKING FORWARD TO 2018 VERS. Why? Causes its not in your sadisting horror movie obsessed grubby little hands. 

DONT MAKE A SHOW IF YOUR GONNA JUST END IT LIKE THIS JUST TO BE A DICK TO YOUR FANBASE or to keep people from remaking.

I know you had a motive, and thats my thought. I pray you never come near tmnt ever again.

and if this finale wasnt you’re fault, then fine, I’ll despise you for killing off splinter and making those boys suffer.

This show had promise. This show came out, and made me fall in love with these turts. Made me fall in love with everything of these turtles. Season 5... as much as I love ships. And the kavaxas story, and all the other tales, I wished this show would of ended at season 4, because it ended in a decent way. In A RESPECTABLE FASHION.

Would it resolve issues that are now left unresolved? No, but it surely would of been better then that apocolypse bullshit.

If you ever do another one of those, LEARN THAT THERE WOULD BE BUILDINGS DESTROYED AND RUN DOWN. LEARN THERE WOULD BE STILL HUMANS IN THE GOD FORSAKEN WORLD, and LEARN THERED BE AT LEAST SOME FOOD, oh yea....LEARN THAT TURTLES WOULD NOT GROW HAIR. My god....

And learn that TMNT will be rebooted, and your version may even get remade in the future into someone elses vision. So no this does not stop ANYONE to go back and change this. It will happen. Like it or not.

Aslo, this isnt related to this but Im glad the show is over cause now I dont have to see you and brandon whining about leaked episodes or spoilers. Like holy shit guys. But I digress. For now.

Ciro, to me, you were the villain this whole time. Flavor yourself and stay away from TMNT all together if your not gonna give it the closure it fucking deserved.

Stick to fanfiction.

Now if you excuse me, Im gonna write my au, and do some funny edits for the fandom. Or maybe draw... anything to get that shit out of my head. 

Ill do a post later on maybe expressing about the fandom and stuff...but I wont say goodbye. I will go on with this show as if it hasnt ended.

FEEL FREE TO ADD ONTO THIS OR VENT IN MY ASK BOX, SEND DISCUSSIONS AND STUFF.

[meggannn]

concrit, and notes for the self

So this is a bit of a weird post I've been wondering how to articulate for a while. I know people have different ideas on fandom courtesy in this regard, and opinions on this topic can be heavily divided.

This is my post to get it out there and say I don't mind, and in fact encrouage, people giving me concrit in my fic in AO3 comments or reblogs. Everyone is different and everyone writes fic for different reasons; some people write for fun and don't care about improving. I totally respect that and that's why I don't offer concrit unless someone specifically asks for it. I'm writing for fun, but I also take my writing seriously, maybe more seriously than I should, so if you've ever read my fic and thought "hm, that bit's not great," please consider this an open invitation to give me all the constructive feedback you want. I try to say I welcome it consistently in my notes when I post fic, but I guess people don't really register that. In fairness, I've seen people say they welcome opinions on their fic and then turn haughty and defensive when someone gives any feedback that isn't praise, but I've always respected writers who freely share the negative concrit they receive (so long as it’s not a troll) because as a reader, it also encourages me to read and interact more with them. If you don't feel comfortable sharing it publicly or want to talk about a certain thing at length, you can always feel free to IM me privately here, or leave the comment on anon on AO3.

This is a weird thing to post on Tumblr, since I don't think I have a big writer presence here, but AO3 doesn't really have a good platform to share this kind of message. And I realize this is a bizarre thing to want to post about -- if I'm not receiving any concrit, like, shouldn't that be a good thing? am I really complaining I'm not receiving any? -- but the few times I have received concrit in the last five years, one was from a friend who knows me well enough to know I welcome it, and the other two were strangers who seemed hesitant to bring it up at all, that made me wonder if they were scared of my reaction so they sandwiched it between complements to soften the blow. I don’t want people to worry about my reaction and apologize for giving negative feedback. I’m always down to talk about ways I can get better. Chances are more likely I’ll probably apologize to you, lol.

Not to say people should look for things to criticize if they think there aren't any -- I'd be flattered -- but I don’t want people thinking giving me concrit will make me resent them, or that bad feelings will fester if we’re mutuals. I promise there isn't anything mean enough you can say about my work I haven't already said to myself. (Though I will say, I'm writing this with the implication people will be reviewing recent or future works judging my talent as a writer now, not dig into my '09-'13 fic history back when I didn't know the word for ellipses and criticize me how I was.)

I have a weird history with concrit (it all started with a flame war back in ‘10...), but now I take the smallest comments from both positive and negative feedback so seriously to the point it does affect how I look at my future works, possibly because most of the feedback fic writers -- including myself -- do receive is just a single bookmark or anonymous kudos with no words attached. Sometimes when I think of people hating my stuff it makes me never want to share anything again, but a large majority of the time when I do receive it, I find that I have a thicker skin than I thought and I'm very easily able to separate the work from my personal feelings. Again: there's nothing anybody can say will be as bad as what I've already told myself, lol.

I'm putting the rest of this behind a cut because it's somewhat related, but it's mostly me blabbing about ways I think I can improve. I've been trying to narrow it down to a few specific areas I want to get better in. Some are going to be on me and only on me to make happen, but I feel like others might better spotted by readers.

This is about to get very mopey and self-indulgent, so if anyone actually reads this bear with me.

Vocabulary. It’s not that I think I have a limited vocabulary, but I think my tendency is to rely on the same words or phrases, which... just feels lazy and fake after a while. @thunderheadfred suggested I don’t try to hard with this one, because trying too hard to include big words can often lend to a convoluted mess, but I think the solution to my problem might just be “read more” and “get creative with how words interact with each other.” Part of this is also just learning relevant jargon or legalese or whatnot and getting familiar with it to the point that I finally don’t feel like I’m playing Mad Libs when I’m talking about something I don’t understand.

General... logic editing. I'm not sure how to describe this one, but I've had moments occasionally while rereading fic where I just think, “Life doesn’t work like that,” or “Megan, you pulled that one completely out of your ass.” You ever just read a fic and think “Goddammit, this makes no sense,” or even with smaller things, just “that’s not how that works”? Some of them are going to be things only specialists will know, which is okay because at that point I feel like learning to get it right is more a bonus than an obligation especially if it’s not plot relevant, but I generally want to make everything as accurate and realistic as possible to the point that the story unfolding in the reader’s head matches the film I’m imagining in mine. Most of the time, I can bullshit my way through stuff I don’t know, but bullshitting also takes talent, which... well. The thing about talent is that you need to have it or develop it, it’s not always something someone can help you with. But still, it’s a bit of a weird problem to articulate when the crux of it comes down to me saing like an idiot, “Uh, I don’t know how things work.” I kinda vaguely know how governments work. My knowledge of science and technology and math is in the negatives. And I don’t have a goddamn clue how the military works, which is a great joke on me for falling in love with a character like Shepard and wanting to write a million fics about them. So, just, part of this is research, but oftentimes research is only half the problem. The other half of the problem is sitting down at my keyboard and thinking “Great, now how am I going to write it?” because more often than not what happens is that the information I just read off Wikipedia or an obscure informative website just collects dust in my brain. I’m trying to be patient with myself about this kind of thing, because on some level I realize I’m pretty damn young and sometimes you just learn things by! going through life! But I am also an impatient ravenclaw motherfucker who wants to be a good writer Right Now. I want to know how things work and how they affect the people around them! I want to be able to make my story and understanding of the world as accurate as possible! I want people to go “yes, this makes absolute sense” not just “oh, that sounds kinda right I guess?” One thing I try to remind myself is, when I think a small thing sounds wrong or try-hard or that that thing doesn’t quite sound right for whatever reason, most of the time, the reader has no idea. The reader might be skimming over it, they may be digesting it without any sense that something is wrong about it whatsoever, hell they might even like it. I mean, if you asked me to read a friend’s fic and point out an error, I’d have to pull out a magnifying glass to find one, and they’d probably be able to recite a laundry list’s worth within five seconds. So there’s that.

Environmental building. I feel like I'm improving on this simply because I've finally started acknowledging where characters are even located in a place at all, lmfao. I'd like to upgrade to "being so good at describing locations and environments that someone other than me can ‘see’ where they are," but atm I'm settling for, "remember to at least TRY to transcribe the physical locale I see in my mind, because half of the time you forget to do even that, dumbass."

Characterization. This is a big one because it affects so much else, namely, the course of the entire fic. I say this all the time to reviewers but I mean it. A fair amount of time I can type on autopilot and it’s like the characters are doing all the work for me, but other times I sit for an hour scratching my head saying “Jesus, what would Varric say in this situation?” and then I realize “Maybe Varric wouldn’t even let himself get into this situation in the first place,” and that starts a whole chain of doubt and thinking about rewriting and actual rewriting while wondering if the rewriting is even necessary. I've recently been able to put my most consistent problem to words, and that's that I will always have staple issues with the POV characters. The nature of my style means that I spend a lot of time in the POV's head, which sometimes means less energy is spent developing their actual actions. E.g., say I write a fic with Shepard as the POV. If Garrus is in the fic, he is absolutely going to be the snarky, confident, more proactive version of himself to make up for all of the angst and moaning I will inevitably write as a result of digging into Shepard's mind. But say I write the same fic with Garrus as the POV. Depending on the time setting, I will be so caught up in his head as he worries about his mom dying and his guilt over losing his team and his place in the Hierarchy or if his dad will ever forgive him or his insecurities over his relationship with Shepard, that Shepard-the-deuteragonist will have to be the talkative, confident marine to draw him out of his own head. And again, imagine this is, like, the same story -- the same story written from a different perspective shouldn’t go a different way! In this example, some of the gap can be excused with the fact that by necessity, the POV has them viewing each other. Garrus and Shepard know each other well enough to know each other's bravado and strength can be a facade for their seriously fucked up emotional issues, so it's not that they imagine the other never has these moments of darker reflection that they do. And the same thing about Varric and Hawke or Hawke and Fenris, etc etc. Depending on how you play them, they could also be looking at each other through rose-colored glasses, or be so used to accepting and supporting the other through their private uncertainties that for the sake of the fic, that what they mostly register in the other is just the best or most confident side of the other's behavior. Narratively, I've realized it might come out of a subliminal urge to balance one's introspective side with the other's more proactive side, which may work sometimes (if they're both serving aggressive roles in the story, for me, the fic might get too 'loud'; if they're both too quiet, it'll just get boring), but most times I feel like it doesn't do justice to the "loud" parts of the POV character, since they are always the one who gets caught in paragraphs on paragraphs of angsty introspection in their own head due to my inability to write anything else. Shepard and Garrus are undeniably “loud” characters no matter how you slice it. Shepard may mope and pine and nearly drown in her depression in her private moments, but she's also a marine, and she’s proactive and brave and assertive. So I'm trying to be hyperaware of when I lose those facets of her personality through the trees when I try to capture the forest that is her darker side. And I would be wholly welcome to anybody who has comments on that type of thing in the future, if I write a character that isn't acting like themself.

This got a lot longer than I thought it would so now I’m not sure how to end it. I think I’m just going to sit in silence for a moment then heat up some soup. Hmm.

ETA: I would be ashamed if I didn’t mention @tetrahedrals, who consistently provides me wonderfully helpful feedback on my ME fic, and none of whose fault this is. All remaining errors in my fic after they’ve been beta’d and workshopped are entirely mine, but she’s helped me a lot to ensure there are far fewer than there might have been. xo

[stellar-stag]

Wow it’s been a while since I did a personal update here huh

I’ve honestly transitioned a lot of my venting/personal stuff to twitter

(I promise I havent abandoned you for my furry friends)

(I kinda have)

(I totally have)

(sorry)

But I feel like the last couple months have been a whirlwind for me, so I may as well keep y’all in the loop. I’m gonna sort these by topic.

First off, I had some issues with my romantic feelings. There’s a guy, a very very good friend, who is just fantastic in so many ways. Friendly and kind and supportive, progressive and enthusiastic, and shares so many of my interests. Seems natural that I would fall for him, right?

Well I did, and it resulted in a lot of emotional duress.

He has a girlfriend, and I knew this going in, but I didn’t fight my attachment. In the process of admitting my feelings to him and working through everything, I learned a lot about myself and got some practice in controlling my emotional state and how I react to things. But I also relied on him as an emotional crutch and used him for validation, especially during some particularly low emotional points, which is unfair to him. It is only because he is immensely understanding that we remain close friends, and this could have easily resulted in disaster.

But through this process I have grown, and identified a new issue blocking me from being of completely sound mind: Low self-esteem and reliance on others for validation. During my more anxious periods, I would slip into joking self-deprecation, and somewhere along the way it stopped being so joking. But surely, now that I’m taking meds for anxiety it would stop, right? Well, no. Turns out, even if I stopped consciously having thoughts of “Wow, I’m so bad at this”, I didn’t automatically gain appreciation or acceptance of myself. This manifests in a particularly dangerous manner when guys who are attractive are nice to me. 

I end up conflating kindness with romantic intent, and decide that obviously, if someone doesn’t have romantic interest in me, I must be irreparably flawed in some way. This is bullshit, and I consciously understand that, but my subconscious doesn’t play by the rules. So I end up in a self-loathing spiral that only manifests in periods of intense romantic desire, and a month later I’m exhausted, bruised, and have run the risk of alienating those around me who care about me.

So how to fix it? I suppose I’ll need to work on drawing validation from within, so that rejection feels less of a condemnation of my character and everything I am. It won’t be simple, to be sure, but understanding the issue is the key to overcoming it. 

Here’s hoping.

Secondly: I started working out! As of today, March 24th, I have been to the gym 12 times this month (half the days, holy shit) and thats because I, last week, decided to go from 3 workouts a week to 5, solely because I wanted to. If you told me a year ago that I would, of sound mind and body and my own volition, wake up every weekday at 5:45am to go workout for an hour, and enjoy the experience, I would have called you a liar. 

But I am, and I do. I think it’s benefitting my mental health and self confidence, and I’m thankful that I’m in a place where its even an option. This is only possible due to a coalition of so many factors: A free gym in my office and a natural predilection to waking up early to remove barriers, I started taking Vyvanse in January to aid in my attention issues (not sure if I have ADD/ADHD or what, but it’s helping me remained focused in all aspects of my life and for that I am grateful). And, of course, two people who aided in the impetus for beginning and making it a habit: My dad, for giving me crippling self-worth issues my entire life and then visiting in February and criticizing my health and weight (because I was sweating after walking up a hill, which more and more I realize is not actually an indicator of my exertion! I am just a person who sweats easily, and its more a function of temperature and endocrine system than anything else) and giving me the sheer spite to begin working out, and the guy I was crushing on (who is intensely into working out, and I wanted to impress him. Yeah, I was hella thirsty. Sue me). 

Regardless of the reasoning, I found that (once I cut cardio because seriously, fuck cardio), I enjoy working out in the mornings. It’s calming to wake up by exertion and then cool down slowly at my desk before other people even wake up. It’s given rise to a ritual of sorts where I get to my desk, deal with my emails, make breakfast and tea, all before anyone shows up, so that I can really hit the ground running. And more than that, I don’t have a goal in mind. I’m doing this because I know it’s good for me and I want to be healthy, and I enjoy the exertion and following “good” tiredness. If I was trying to lose weight or trim  fat, or stuck only to cardio, I would have given up by now. But its a habit, and I love it, and I’m sleeping better, eating better, and feeling better.

Again, this is only possible because of an alignment of several factors, but I’m thankful for it, and I’m glad I got out of the mindset that “workouts must suck but people do them because they wanna lose weight”. You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to do, and I wish I had realized that sooner. Im feeling way better about my body, even, because despite the fact that I haven’t lost weight or gotten trimmer from working out, I know I’m eating (pretty) well and working out, and that my body does everything I need it to. I can take pride in the callouses on my hands and the soreness of my body, because they’re proof of dedication, exertion, and effort, and those are way better things to feel good about than shape and size, anyways. If people think I’m unhealthy because I have fat, they can suck it.

Thirdly, I’ve begun looking for a condo to buy! Housing in the bay area is STUPID EXPENSIVE (and yes everyone knows this, and I know this, but it bears repeating). But I can put a down payment on a one bedroom in a good location, and I’m prequalified for a loan, and I just need to keep waiting and pouncing on leads. I think I’ll be happier living by myself with a kitchen to myself, and still going out to social events to prevent becoming a hermit. Plus, with this setup I can maybe bring dudes back and not have to show them the pigsty that is our living room or the shoebox that is my bedroom. I was terrified at the start of this process, but my mom and the realtor have been awesome about taking this step by step and ensuring nothing is confusing or surprising, which is sweet.

Fourthly, possibly because I’ve been taking Vyvanse but also possibly because I’ve finally begun understanding what the hell I’ve been doing, I’ve really hit my groove at work. The project I’m working on is complex but interesting, challenging but well understood, and I don’t feel alone but still get to feel a sense of ownership. It’s not the most fulfilling thing ever (I don’t know that working on payments platforms for a corporation ever will be) but I enjoy work, I don’t loathe going to work, and despite the fact that I was sick as a dog all this week, I came in everyday (after working out) to work full productive days, and I was happy at the end of each of them, more or less. Its not perfect but its head and shoulders above what most people get from their jobs, and I’m immensely fortunate to be in this position.

Fifthly, this is more a continuation of already known things, but I’m making cool friends in the furry fandom. I’ve made good friends, some who I hope I will keep as friends for the rest of my life, and I’ve already made plans to go to Reno in June and Disneyworld in November to hang out and have fun with them. As nerve wracking as being an adult is sometimes, the freedom is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. 

Sixthly, I’ve been taking a creative writing workshop in SF! It finished last weekend and I’m happy to not need to commute each week anymore, but I learned a lot about reading like a writer and choices you can make as a writer to achieve desired effects. The workshop focuses on narrators and how who is telling the story tells it, and the model they use for exercises is SO HELPFUL. We would read an excerpt of something, discuss how the narrator/choices/tense/mood all work together, and then we would write something in a similar format about whatever we wanted. Lemme tell yall, that is so much more helpful to me as a student than just prompts. Having a guide to format is like drawing from references, its helpful and and great for learning and gives you the tools to make your own things later on. I highly recommend it, and I can’t wait to get back to my book. 

Got a lot of art to make first, though. I’ve definitely improved a lot in artistic skill and confidence, and I’m loving finding niche styles that I like and mimicking them. The stained glass pic I posted yesterday is proof of that, I feel. Its drawn from Mucha and various real life stained glass windows and a bit from Kingdom Hearts, but I took these and the tools at my disposal and wove it into something that feels complete. I figured out how to apply a cloudy “glass” texture, glows, stabilization, symmetry tools, pattern design, and more all through the process, and I know theres so much room to iterate and grow, in shading and coloring and proportion. But even knowing I have room to grow, I’m proud of what I put out and I put a lot of my heart into that piece (yes, its a birthday gift for workout boy. Shut up). I think I’m going to accept commissions for pictures in this style, even. It’s great fun.

So yeah, the last couple of months have been intense. I’ve had ups and downs, but I’ve learned and grown a lot, and I think I’m in a really good place in my life right now, and I hope that every one of you achieves a similar level of peace.