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Night Blooms

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⚔️

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three of swords ✶

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kill the shift manager in your brain

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a group of children are tasked by a mysterious wizard to complete a heroic quest in a magical land. since this is a form a kidnapping, their middle-aged parents follow them through the portal and precede to wreak havoc in the style of Liam Neeson’s Taken 

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Pet Dragon

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I'm getting back into the craft after a couple difficult years off(college is hard apparently) :).

I'm just trying to ease back into writing, with less focus on novels and Big Things and more work on small stories, rambling, poems, etc. I'm hoping it'll be more attainable with the workload of school and more enjoyable being able to throw things into the void more often.

Not 100% sure what the content of my writing is going to look like yet but it'll probably be a hodge podge of whatever is interesting and fun at the time! Rn I've got some ideas rolling for stories/writings about baking pies, a gay WW2 soldier & medic, some celestial epic fantasy bullshit magic, and how friends drift(owie) so stay tuned if you're interested it'll be a year.

what are your 2023 writing goals?

I’ll do a separate post with mine, but I wanna know what yours are!

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listen. aging into your thirties rocks. yes your joints get a little creaky. yes you can’t sleep in a pretzel on the floor anymore after a concert or a convention. and you lose some friends. but the thing is that you sort out who your real friends are and you sort out who you really are. and you get to see your friends settling into careers they like, and adopt new dogs and cats, and you find a job you can stand, and get really good at arts and crafts, and maybe that book you loved as a kid gets a movie deal and it doesn’t suck, and you learn to like new food and bake your own bread, and you realize that the great portfolio of self harm scars you all used to curate are going white with age and not updated, and half your friends are a different gender now and so much happier and maybe you are too, and you know who you are, and that it’s a journey and not a revelation. it’s a direction you’re headed, and you’re enjoying the trip.

reaching your 30′s rocks. and i’m hearing good things about what comes next, too.

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I have the power of the sun and stars in my blood and pulsing spirit of the earth beneath our feet in my heart, and somehow there is still nothing I can do.

- A helpless hero born of the celestial, raised of the mortal.

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First rule of writing: hoard notebooks

Second rule of writing: never write in your 37 notebooks that you have hoarded

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First: once you know something’s name you have power over it. This is an old, old rule. Be careful giving out your name, because if it can be given it can be taken, and you along with it.

Second: the fae love beautiful things, and they will steal what they love. Sometimes it is to keep the object of their affection pristine and unaging, unravaged by time; sometimes it is just for the sake of having it. (They don’t love in the same way we do.)

Third: a changeling is a replica created to hide a theft. Sometimes it is a fae creature fully alive and wearing a stolen face. Sometimes it is simply a bundle of branches wrapped in magic, meant to die a wasting death and leave mourners who never suspect the truth.

Last: our city was beautiful. It was known far and wide, and because of that had names spoken in many different tongues. But it was not so hard to gather them all, in the end.

Keep reading

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I always dreamed of creating something magnificent. Something that people would lay their eyes on and marvel. a lighthouse draped so bright amongst the starscape of everyone else that no one could ignore it even if they wanted to. They wouldn’t want to though. 

But magnificence and marvels and masterpieces require time and dedication and craft that I long since realized isn’t me. I can’t even look at this screen long enough to purge my thoughts out in one sitting, much less hone a skill to the level of attention. I know that, but it hasn’t stopped me from clinging to trying outshine the stars anyway even when it falls apart before the scaffolding is even in place over and over again.

My drafts folder has three beginnings of stories or poems or ramblings or something or other that have been eroding to the tides for well over a month. I’ll think about them all the time, losing the smallest bits and pieces to the waves until the the spark that brought it to life is doused out.

There’s a drawing tablet buried in three months worth of dust sitting on the desk next to me that I spent way too much money on five months ago. A folder on my desktop that has twenty three files that I can’t bring myself to delete even though they laugh like thunder barely visible on the horizon.

I’ve got a package of Origami Paper in the little keyboard drawer with four hundred and sixty three pages inside watched over by a clan of nine nuns, six butterflies, four cats in various poses, three ducks, two mice, a jumping frog, and twelve lost souls deformed by shaking fingers. 

I don’t even want to think about all the outlines and first chapters sitting in my google docs. 

I still pull out the jumping frog every so often though. His name is Gerald. Every time I try to see how many jumps it takes to get from one end of my desk to the other. I just took a break to see and it only took three this time! usually it’s at least five. maybe I'll make him a friend to race with. I’ll name her Gertrude. 

When I logged back into this account for the first time since January 1, 2021 I drew a new profile picture for myself using that tablet because I wanted something cute and fun and I’ve had the nickname “I love bread” or “Bread man” from my internet friends for so long I needed to finally tangibalize it somehow. I really love the way the smile and the eye highlights turned out.

And now this little rambling that I started three months ago with just “I used to dream about being important” is actually something. and I definitely am not important in the sense I meant when I wrote that beginning but I think this collection of words and phrases can be. If I got the point across in the way I wanted to, I mean. I might not have though I’m still pretty new to this whole writing thing. (I’ll leave it in the tags if I confused you just to be sure.)

I just ordered one of those glass dip pens with a bunch of colors of ink and a leather notebook with an owl on the cover. I’ve always loved owls, they look so silly. I think it’ll be fun for a bit, even if no one sees it. Maybe I’ll draw a starscape inside. 

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Dance~

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a collection of motivational insights regarding content creation and creative hobbies

and of course the classic

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NaNoWriMo Day 26

In the wee hours of this morning, I did it! I passed 50k and won NaNoWriMo! It’s the most and most consistently I’ve written in about a year so I am pretty proud of myself! I haven’t decided yet if I’ll keep going and keep up my everyday update streak or if I’ll take a break and pick up finishing the draft in December. We shall see.

Total word count: 50,039

Excerpt:

The headquarters tower was the one and only building both below and above the filters. The lower part, according to Zion, held the prison. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way that Ryn was beginning to see was the logic Ouroboros Corporation operated on. Why should the prisoners get to be above everyone else? They were the enemies of the corporation, and that made them the lowest of the low. Keep your enemies close, but not so close they could be considered your equals.

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I drew a new profile picture :D. He’s having a good time, just like me.

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Is this the gay agenda my friends talk about

I’m gay which means I’m really turned off by sports but really turned on by sportswear