notjedy

[notjedy]

the caring cat

a story about my girlfriend’s cat Bean

***

she must be starving.

it was one of those days when Bean finally remembered she had an owner. she loved her a lot, but more often than not her owner ended up hiding away in her room talking to herself in front of a screen, so you really can’t blame Bean for forgetting.

last time she brought her food was a while ago. she brought her a bird, a big, fatty bird that she spent hours catching. she was real proud. her owner, though, didn’t seem to agree: after half an hour of running after it, she let the bird out outside. Bean wasn’t too upset. maybe she doesn’t eat bird.

but that was in the past. today is a new day. and her owner has got to eat.

Bean looked through the living room window. Thankfully, there were no magpies outside. the weather was nice and warm, and sun was shining perfectly on Bönne’s favorite spot on the couch. she yawned, stretched out her paws a little bit and jumped down from the couch. she knew she had to leave before her owner closed herself off in her room, so she stretched one more time and jumped on the wooden ladder leading out to the open window.

the streets smelled like warmth today. Bean could never quite describe that smell, she only knew it came out during spring. she looked around, deciding which way to go, and, after a little while, turned right to the crossroad.

she didn’t enjoy being around cars. they were loud and obnoxious, not to mention absolutely huge. she knew they must have something against her, since they just had to be on the streets every time she went out. but to get to where she needed to go, she had to cross a few crosswalks. thankfully, it was still early, so the weird metal creatures were still waking up and leaving the roads mostly empty. Bean looked around and ran to the other side, hissing at the car that drove right in front of her.

the path to the place she wanted to go to wasn’t that difficult. after the crosswalk, she only had to run along the side of the road for a few minutes, then turn left and jump on the stone wall. the texture felt rough on her soft paws and often scratched her, but it was the fastest way. at the end of the wall she jumped down, and ended up on the back side of a restaurant.

in front of one of the dumpsters she saw a cat she’s met a few times before. it was a weird cat, it would wag its tail and never purr, and its’ meows were off. they sounded more like a ‘woof’. Bean didn’t mind, though. she just thought the cat wasn’t from here. he was french, maybe.

the cat turned around and barked to greet Bönne. she meowed back and went up closer.

‘there isn’t much food here today,’ - she thought to herself. ‘not to worry, my owner doesn’t eat a lot anyway.’

she quickly scanned the trash bin with her eyes. there really wasn’t much — a quarter full box of chinese noodles, rotten vegetables, a dead mouse and fruit peels. this really wasn’t a good find. she sighed, and turned to the cat, that was sitting next to her with his tongue out.

‘woof woof!’ — said the cat, got up and went up to the corner of the bin. he scratched around under some closed garbage bags and pulled something out. he grabbed it and went up to Bean, dropping it on the ground.

‘meow!!’ - Bönne exclaimed. ‘meow meow, meow!’

she couldn’t believe it. this was such a treasure! the cat must really like her to give away such a precious thing. she meowed a few more times to show her appreciation, grabbed her loot and jumped back up on the stone wall.

the walk back home went smoothly. Bean was a little worried about getting jumped, since she was holding such a delicate thing, but all the neighbors cats must have still been sleeping. she was real lucky today.

Bönne jumped up on the wooden ladder back at home, and went inside. her owner was making breakfast.

‘⊑⟟ ⏚⟒⏃⋏!’ - she said, turning to Bean. she was clearly interested in what Bönne was holding in her mouth.

Bean dropped her find next to her human. she scratched herself behind the ear, looking proud. her owner looked a bit confused, though.

‘⍙⏃⟟⏁, ⟟⌇ ⏁’ - she laughed, bending down to the floor. ‘⋏⎍☌☌⟒⏁ a chicken nugget?’

[notjedy]

she’s such a bright young woman

there is a charm to her

how glad i am she’s blooming

as if a blossom she were.

the way her dress is flowing

the way her hairdo curls

how all of this is showing

that her femininity grows.

she’s special, magnificent, gorgeous

i wouldn’t trade her for life

and i hope as you’re reading this, beautiful

you smile and you let yourself thrive

@voobli 🧡

[notjedy]

🖋️ You Don’t Need to “Write Every Day” to Be a Real Writer (and Other Guilt-Crushing Truths)

Let’s make this one loud: 📣 You are not a failed writer because you didn’t open your Google Doc today.

We’ve all heard the advice, write every day, build the habit, protect the streak, treat it like brushing your teeth or doing crunches or whatever metaphor productivity Twitter is pushing this week.

But here’s the thing: You are not a factory. Your brain is not a faucet. And writing isn’t a moral behavior.

─────── ✦ ───────

🚫 Daily Writing is Not a Badge of Legitimacy

The "write every day" rule? It wasn’t invented for you. It came from a very specific kind of writer.... usually full-time, no kids, no chronic illness, no 60-hour day job, no executive dysfunction, that lives in a world made of schedules and uninterrupted mornings.

You? You’re probably doing your best between classes, during night shifts, after crying, before therapy, while microwaving pizza rolls.

If you’re writing at all, you’re already in the game. No daily streak required. No blood oath to the Scrivener gods. You don’t need to bleed ink to prove you’re real.

─────── ✦ ───────

🧠 Writing is Mental, Even When It’s Invisible

Plotting in the shower. Thinking about your character’s tragic backstory at red lights. Whispering fake arguments into your Notes app at 3am. Staring at the ceiling replaying one scene until it rots.

It all counts.

Writing is thinking, not just typing. That mental compost pile? That’s how the good stuff grows. You don’t owe your worth to a word count. Some days, the work looks like a blank page and a brain on fire.

─────── ✦ ───────

🔄 Rest Is Part of the Process, Not a Detour From It

Let me say this plainly: Burnout is not proof of effort.

You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to stop mid-project. You are allowed to write in bursts. You are allowed to write for a week and disappear for a month.

Writing is a relationship. It has seasons. It expands and contracts. You are not a robot with a daily quota, you’re a person carrying a whole fictional world inside you. Let yourself be human.

─────── ✦ ───────

📆 Consistency Helps--But Define It For Yourself

Do some writers thrive with routines? Sure. But routine =/= daily.

Try this: → “I write every weekend morning when I can.” → “I jot down notes during my commute.” → “I commit to one hour a week, guilt-free.” → “I take two weeks off after every chapter.” → “I only write during November and spiral gloriously.”

Build a rhythm that actually matches your energy, not one that shames you for not vibing like a full-time author in a lakeside cabin with nothing to do but word vomit and sip tea.

─────── ✦ ───────

💌 You’re Still a Real Writer (Even When You’re Not Producing)

You don’t need:

a finished draft

a daily goal

a growing WIP

a thriving project

a clever new idea

…to be a writer.

You only need:

the drive to tell a story

the will to try again

the love of the craft, even when it doesn’t love you back

You’re a real writer if you write sometimes. You’re a real writer if you write badly. You’re a real writer if you wrote once and it changed you.

─────── ✦ ───────

✨ Guilt Kills Stories Faster Than “Laziness” Ever Will

You’re not lazy. You’re probably: → Overwhelmed → Tired → Burnt out → Depressed → Distracted by survival → Caught in perfectionism’s death grip

And the guilt? It doesn’t make you more productive. It just sinks its teeth into your confidence until you start to believe you’ve “fallen behind” on something that’s supposed to be yours.

The best thing you can do for your writing life? Protect your joy. That spark. That curiosity. That itch to build something from nothing.

That matters more than any streak.

─────── ✦ ───────

📣 Final Truths (Pin These to Your Soul):

Missing writing days is not failure.

Your process is not wrong just because it’s not loud.

You are not in a race.

You are not a fraud.

You are allowed to come back whenever.

Writing is not a productivity metric. It’s a craft. It’s a calling. It’s a weird little ritual.

And it’ll still be there when you’re ready.

See you on the page, whether that’s tomorrow, or next week, or next season.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // chaotic writing realist. anti-guilt gremlin. your local plot ghost.

📜 prompts for gothic girlies, literary lads, and cursed creatives

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[notjedy]

[notjedy]

my mom warned me about these kinds of internet users

[notjedy]

this is a cake i kinda drew for my gf’s birthday since i couldn’t get her a real one :(

credit to whoever’s cake art i saw on pinterest, i didn’t trace it or anything but it’s kind of a copy with different colors, if i find their name ill @!

[notjedy]

executive dysfunction is literally like. ive had a random dollar on my floor for two weeks and i dont know when ill fit it in my schedule to pick it up. people dont realize this

[notjedy]

Behind These Mountains by Klaus Pillon

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Art by Xenia Eremina

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but i stay silly! *←said in the most world-weary voice you ever did hear*

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Art by WonHaeJu

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This painting is brought to you by my current obsession with ochre and dark purple 💜

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I saw that sexy outfit meme going around and the last one works too well for Vaggie! 😍🥰🤤

(I’m too shy to post the full drawing, please forgive me) 🎁🎀

[notjedy]

[notjedy]

Dragon room

[notjedy]

Art by Raja Nandepu