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[artprocrastinates]

This blog is no longer active

I honestly forgot about it, and then someone sent me an ask and I realised that this blog does, in fact, exist. So:

No longer active!! Find me at @concerningwolves

[artprocrastinates]

This blog is no longer active

I honestly forgot about it, and then someone sent me an ask and I realised that this blog does, in fact, exist. So:

No longer active!! Find me at @concerningwolves

[artprocrastinates]

I just found out that the youth club is cancelled tonight and I'm like,, no? Don't keep me from my kids??

[artprocrastinates]

You can now submit your GeShiDoMo achievements!

GeShiDoMo Motivation Pool

@h-e-s-p-e-r-u-s has started this brilliant thing called Get Shit Done Month, a fresh take on the concept of NaNoWriMo so that a writer’s month is now a lot more manageable. In short, there are three categories - daily goal, weekly goal, month goal - and within each category, the goals are set by you. All you need to do? Your best to reach the goals you have set. The full post explaining is here [X]

Inspired, I’ve decided that I will open this blog up to submissions come March, so that you can share your goals and achievements, inspirations, happy developments and anything else about your writing that is positive, motivational, or interesting. The month is going to be a lot more successful if we all pitch in and motivate one another!

[artprocrastinates]

Sitting down to write like damnit I put all of my characters down in different places and now I’ve lost them

[artprocrastinates]

GeShiDoMo Motivation Pool

@h-e-s-p-e-r-u-s has started this brilliant thing called Get Shit Done Month, a fresh take on the concept of NaNoWriMo so that a writer’s month is now a lot more manageable. In short, there are three categories - daily goal, weekly goal, month goal - and within each category, the goals are set by you. All you need to do? Your best to reach the goals you have set. The full post explaining is here [X]

Inspired, I’ve decided that I will open this blog up to submissions come March, so that you can share your goals and achievements, inspirations, happy developments and anything else about your writing that is positive, motivational, or interesting. The month is going to be a lot more successful if we all pitch in and motivate one another!

[artprocrastinates]

Therapist: so what are you thinking about that stops you from sleeping?

Me: nothing

Me, internally: well technically I'm thinking about everything from That One Thing I Said Three Years Ago to the ethics of housing systems at Hogwarts to scone pronounciation but I'm thinking about it so fast it feels like white noise which feels like nothing

[artprocrastinates]

Darkness in the Evernight

A short prequel to Of Seas and Stars (aka the thing I wrote that turned out to be more painful than I intended)

Aya had grown up in the evernight of the north. She was one with her island and the never-darkness of it; one with her people, although she knew that she had no right to claim them as her own. She had waded through the snows of her childhood in wicker snow-walkers with the rest of them, killed alongside her friends at six seasons and led her first fishing foray to the sea at ten. Even with her mother gone, and the remains of the Feldian era vanished with her, Aya had her place.

But Aya was not of them, she had always known that. There was a fundamental connection between the people of the Isles of Ys, and the Speaking Tree whose roots and magic wove the islands together. Aya did not feel that connection. Aya only felt broken. Having her family had helped her forget, but it was on mornings like these that she was forced to remember. She held her hands over the morning-fire simmering down outside the yurt, and listened to the muffled voices of Arkfeld and Nessa inside.

An excited squeal sounded, and Aya ducked down to catch her daughter in her arms as she barrelled out of the entrance to the yurt. Nessa was a thick, stocky child already, her fingers gaining the first signs of callous and hard work. She snuggled her chin onto Aya’s shoulder and pressed firewarmed hands around Aya’s neck.

“Are you excited, Wolfling?” Aya asked and kissed the top of Nessa’s head. “The hares are. I saw them coming out of the snow when I was gathering this morning,”

“Papa says that hares grow underground all winter, and come out in the spring,” Nessa said with complete sincerity. Aya looked back at Arkfeld, who was shuffling out of the yurt, and gave him a smile with all of her teeth. He shrugged.

“Your papa is a cowprike, sometimes,” Aya ruffled Nessa’s hair and passed her to her papa. “Now watch the sky, alright?” Nessa nodded. The small sound of wonder that escaped her puffed out as dragonsmoke into the air. Throughout their village, families were gathering, emerging from their homes to watch; Aya saw tears and smiles; she saw hugs and bold kisses.

For the first time in three years, the three light-givers in the North were converging together on the horizon. The night skylights were fading into white fire, as the sun rose and the red moon dipped down. This was both the brightest hour, and the closest that they would ever come to true darkness.

Aya shut her eyes.The brilliant shatterings of light bled through her eyelids. She didn’t have the weïrdness in her like Nessa did; didn’t know the connection to the otherworld—but she could pretend, just for this dawn. The ache of it in her stomach was bittersweet.

“Mama,” Nessa said. Aya hummed in acknowledgement, “Mama!” Nessa said again. Aya’s hand wandered until it found Nessa’s hair, and ruffled. She opened her eyes when Nessa batted it away. “It’s getting darker,” Nessa’s eyes were swimming. Aya frowned. “In here,” Nessa touched her own temple.

“What do you mean?” Aya knelt in the snow to look her daughter in the eyes. No, Aya would never know what it was like to be linked to the Speaking Tree’s magic, but Nessa did. And when Nessa felt something, it was invariably something big. Nessa was searching for the words, her bottom lip trembling.

Arkfeld touched her shoulder. Aya looked up and followed his pointing finger to the lower horizon, where small curls of darkness were emerging, climbing from the land into the lights and eating them up. Not everyone had noticed yet, but the atmosphere was shifting. Like a wave, smiles were turning to open mouths, black holes. A rustle went through the crowd.

Get to the Speakwood, they said. But what protection would they find there? It was no secret that the connection of the people to the deity which held the Isles of Ys together had been waning ever since Aya’s mother vanished. They needed her now. They needed their roots.

Aya grasped Nessa’s hand, and the three of them stood, transfixed. The darkness spread with a weblike speed, spanning and connecting as it arched overhead. It was a dome, Aya realised. A cap, a lid, something to pin them in. A foreign power; foreign for both its darkness and the slick, false feel of it. Pressed against Aya’s legs, Nessa began to shiver. Darkness was coming to the Evernight, and for the first time in history since the Speaking Tree had chosen these Isles to lay down its roots, they were powerless. Aya wanted to pray, but she could not remember the words.

People were peeling from the group. Not running yet—that would come later, when they knew what to run from—but hurrying, herding one another towards the knotted green of the Speakwood. It was getting more difficult to see. Their figures diminished the further away they got, until they were smudges, smeared across the now-dark skyline. Aya looked at Arkfeld, and saw him staring in dumb shock, wide-eyed. He turned as if to speak, and then his eyes went blank. His mouth was slack.

“Feala?” Aya reached out a hand for him, or rather, the shade of him. The morning-fire had burned down the last defiance of embers, but its light was not enough.

“Papa?” Nessa did not go to her father. Nessa began to back away.

Aya could only see the glitter of Nessa’s eyes now, and the ghostlike curve of her cheek where the firelight painted it in red, but she did not need to see any more. She could feel Nessa’s fear, like a line of white sound lancing through her own head.

It occurred to her that this must be what it was like, to have a weïrdness: the panic, the horror, it was all washing up against the borders of her mind. Aya was sinking through her own body, slipping downwards. Into Nys, the dark underworld in the roots, she thought. She tried to tell herself that she was hysterical, but she knew that was wrong. She was feeling nothing, and everything. The slick darkness above was coursing through her veins, and it was trying its best to fight it off, it really was, but it needed faith and the faith was gone from the Isles. Its roots were shrivelling, and its oaken heart was too weak to keep on beating through the blackness.

The last thing Aya felt was dismay. She had finally known it, that connection to the otherworld of the Speaking Tree.  

And the she felt nothing, because she was gone. Her body was empty by the time it hit the snow.

(tagging the people who were interested in oSaS: @oheoo @marigoldwritesthings @brynprocrastinates)

[artprocrastinates]

What is about Harry Potter? Or is the problem just JK?

The two are kind of mutually exclusive to one another. My personal issues with the books stem mostly from the way that JK Rowling has executed them, and from Rowling herself. JK Rowling has become increasingly someone I'm ashamed to have idolised. She's seeking brownie points for representation that she never actually gave (Confirming Dumbledore is gay but never giving him that, confirming that there was "at least one Jewish student at Hogwarts") and neglecting the huge amount of other cultures in the UK that would have—and should have—been at Hogwarts as well. Beyond the connection with Rowling and the HP books, there's also the fact that she continues to work with Johnny Depp and a lot of what we looked up to as her great sass is actually plain arrogance. This isn't to say that Rowling is a wholly awful person, or that this is the sum total of problems with her, but she just isn't the great Writing Goddess fans once saw her as. With the books themselves, it's more complex. The whole third book is a bit of an anomaly thanks to the time-travel, but I'm not that bothered by it (I know a lot of fans are); rather, my problems lie with the whole "Harry was abused and neglected but comes away fine and the Dursleys are never called out on it". Harry had to threaten the Dursleys with his godfather to get them to treat him with even a little common decency. I looked at Vernon's behaviour, looked at my own father, and thought "well it's normal in this book and Harry is fine, so stuff for me at home must be fine, too,". One could even go so far as saying that the Dursleys determination to keep Harry from the magical world could be an allegory for Autism Mums or Hearing parents of Deaf children keeping their children from the communities that they have a right to—or White foster parents not respecting the cultural wishes of their children who aren't White as well. These are all very real issues, and they were exploited for the sake of, what? Giving Harry a pity card to make readers feel Emotion for him? I absolutely adore the world of Harry Potter, and what the fans have made of it, but for me the books and films are just too close to the author of the source material. Everything has been skewed by the mistakes Rowling made, or the blatant ignorance that she made no effort to correct when writing. She got away with it because the books were for children, but we now live in an age where people can realise that "Oh, actually, that doesn't mean anything," and now the realisation has spread, it's too late for Rowling to change anything. There's a lot more I can say—hypocrisy in the fundamental values of the book, flaws in the Housing systems, Snape (but I'm not going there) and Dumbledore himself, plus the naming of Harry's child after Dumbledore and the 2D characters... No work is flawless and no person is either. There is also no denying that Rowling did an amazing thing, raising her daughter on benefits in a tiny flat as she wrote the books in a coffee shop because her home was too cold, but the feat behind the books doesn't negate what they became. Now fans are in this difficult place of loving what they have done with the world she created (just look at how headcanons have been accepted as canon more than canon itself) but disliking the creator and the ways in which those negative aspects have bled into the books. However, it is not the fans job to seperate the two, and so issues become apparent within the books themselves. This is only emphasized by The Casual Vacancy, another of Rowling's works, which does address some serious issues in a very sensitive way. She did it then, so why not in her seven book success? Why not teach children some solutions to issues she is clearly capable of addressing? Therefore, it can be surmised that although the issues stem from the author, the author and the issues in her works are also inherently linked. As a consequence, I can no longer enjoy that part of my childhood as I once did, and the pain of seeing other fans going through the same process is incredibly bitter-sweet.

[artprocrastinates]

This!!

I was clearing out my room yesterday and found that, actually, there was a lot that I was fine with throwing out. Among these were my Harry Potter books, extensive Supernatural collection, and the carefully collected copies of BBC Sherlock: all series on DVD. Yes, I sat on my bed and cried but, no, I don’t regret that choice. The only thing that connected me with them was the knowledge that they were parts of my childhood, and the joy I found in the fandom.

There’s no shame in admitting moments like these. Nostalgia isn’t supposed to be comfortable. A huge part of it is the contrast between your mental image with all the sentiment, and the reality when you revisit the thing itself. There’s a reason that the word comes from algia, which means pain.

Sherlock was the Big Thing, we all loved it, devoured it because we didn’t know how to spot the problems. Give us witty banter and slapstick comedy mushed together with dry humour, and we lapped it up. We didn’t for one moment question the queer coding, or the way in which Sherlock’s cruelty was excused because of his genius, or the gross exploitation of “sociopath” and “psychopath.”, or Molly’s dicey characterisation. Good-looking white guy carries the plot, being an absolute arse, wrecking the book counterpart’s image and still, very few people questioned it at the time.

Give something enough hype, and younger people are blind to the rest. It’s a natural part of development and learning. 

So, I’m not saying “Open your eyes!! If you don’t you’re awful!!!” because people are entitled to their opinion, and deciding whether media is good or bad is both subjective and objective. I personally dislike most of the source material now for Harry Potter and JK Rowling herself, but will forever view the fandom as a second home. What I am saying is that people need to seperate liking something problematic, and having a nostalgic connection to something problematic.

Being able to accept that is a really good step in changing and growing as a person.

listen. it’s 2018. it’s time to admit, finally, that bbc sherlock is, in fact, bad, and was only good because we watched it when we were 15 and didn’t know how to dismantle scripts that SOUND clever but are really just gold-flake covered shit

[artprocrastinates]

I’m hurting Icarus and I am NOT OKAY W H Y DID I PLOT THIS

[artprocrastinates]

The day I stop passionately advocating the rights of ALL D(d)eaf/ HoH people to learn and use signed language—and have FREE access to that—is the day you have permission to shoot me, because I will no longer be the one inhabiting my body.

[artprocrastinates]

Honestly, I jump at any opportunity to draw mermaids. Inktober - day 4

[artprocrastinates]

Selling abstract concepts?? Accidental bringing about of the apocalypse??? In short story format????

That sounds amazing! Could you tag me in any future excerpts/installments?

I feel like I blinked and missed everything from all the other writeblrs I followed because I loved the concept of their works (@nicholewrites and @golden-eyed-writer , I’m looking at you two in particular, and also @oheoo ) and although I’m catching up, there are so many more of you out there.

Everyone tell me what you’re working on!

really want to enjoy the social side of writeblr a little more and I’m interested 🐻

[artprocrastinates]

[artprocrastinates]

I feel like I blinked and missed everything from all the other writeblrs I followed because I loved the concept of their works (@nicholewrites and @golden-eyed-writer , I'm looking at you two in particular, and also @oheoo ) and although I'm catching up, there are so many more of you out there.

Everyone tell me what you're working on!

really want to enjoy the social side of writeblr a little more and I'm interested 🐻

[artprocrastinates]

Purgatorio: Character Cast

I figured the time has come to share some brief bios about some of the characters I’m writing in Purgatorio, so…

Jane: Jane is the central protagonist in Purgatorio. She awakes outside the town of Midpoint with no memory of who she is or how she got there and quickly ends up working on brothel. Her interactions with Jones lead her to discover she’s actually in a realm of Purgatory, a clerical error in the Underworld’s sorting system. She sells her soul to Jones to avoid being placed in Hell where she belongs. The result of the the trade is that she now technically works for him and he’s insistent on having her help him understand why souls are disappearing from the Underworld.

Cas/Jones: King of the Underworld, God of the Dead, Lord of the Shadows, land lord of Midpoint, and etc. Jones has a lot on a his plate, considering he’s largely running all three dimensions of the Underworld by himself these days, but that doesn’t mean his work is lacking. When errors and “mistakes” start happening, he knows someone is trying to attack his kingdom. Thankfully, a shade just sold her soul to him, so he has a bit of guinea pig to test out ideas on and drag around for company. Or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Kaileigh: A fellow shade that works alongside Jane at the brothel. Unlike Jane, she doesn’t know she’s dead. She just knows that she likes money, champagne, and Doctor Young’s ward Emily. When the Madam disappears, it’s Kaileigh who nominates Jane to take over, though everyone would much rather it be Kaileigh. She’s kind and respectable, but lacks all sense of organization and leadership, and by her own admission she’s a huge gossip.

Helena: “The acting Queen of the Underworld” though she much rather preferred her old job of overseeing the Hell dimensions and occasionally collecting souls from Earth. The goddess tries her best to help her father manage the Underworld, but she’s overworked and underpaid. Some say she’s cruel and cold but she’s not, she’s just pragmatic. She can’t understand why her father has decided to bring along a damned shade everywhere he goes anymore and it’s become something of a sore topic between the two.

Emily: The talkative ward of Dr. Young, Emily helps him around Midpoint by acting as nurse and caring for the majority of his female patients. She’s gifted at medicine, but she doesn’t have the heart for it. She would much rather spend the day with Kaileigh and her sketchbook. Unfortunately, that means that she’s often dragged into whatever drama Kaileigh has managed to find herself in. Since the arrival of Jane, she’s found that this drama has increased considerably.

Seth: Resident trickster and chaos god. No one is entirely sure where he came from, but everyone knows he will fuck shit up. He’s made several attempts for Jones’ crown before, and fancies himself a king. He doesn’t mind that Jones keeps beating him back though because he’s dating Jones’ son Steve—or at least he was the last time he checked. Honestly, who knows, it’s been a minute. Jones is pissed off about it either way though, so does it matter to Seth? Not really.

Cam/Camille: The mother of Steve and Mallorie, the former Queen of the Underworld. What started as a whirlwind romance and elopement ended in a tragic divorce. Originally thought to be a nature goddess, she discovered her plants only grew in the Underworld; any that grew above ground were poisonous and led to mortal death. Note: Helena does not claim her as a mother.

Dosia: An agriculture goddess, if not THE agriculture goddess. She mothered Camille and has hated Jones for marrying her ever since the two eloped. She really doesn’t hate to say, “I told you so.”

Korinth: The god of love and sex. They adored Jones and Cam as a couple and since the divorce, they’ve been trying to find a nice girl to set Jones back up with. This has proved to be more of nuisance to Jones than anything else.

Jin: A technical employee of Jones, she’s the goddess of witchcraft and sorcery. She prefers solitude, but will help Jones when asked nicely.

Steve: An insanity god and Jones’ only son. His twin sister is Mallorie. He fancies himself a chaos god and is currently dating Seth.

Mallorie: An insanity goddess and Jones’ youngest daughter. Her twin brother is Steve. She is 100% down to party and encourage poor behavior.

Madam LaBelle: The original Madam of the brothel. She took Jane in when no one else would. Her and Jones had…a thing.

Maggie: A selfish shade at the brothel who is suspicious of Jane. She tries to take over after LaBelle disappears.

Dr. Lepus: He’s a doctor. He’s just late when it comes to healing them. But he heals them!