#blah blah blah be kind to myself WHATEVER

[judasofsuburbia]

everytime i look at the word tracker for my novel it's like i get sucker punched

[sleepshow]

20 POSTERS FOR JUNGWON'S 20TH !!!

[prick-love-for-arting]

... Mhm

[forevercloudnine]

on again and off again and on again and

batcat break up and/or hook up playlist (Spotify || Youtube)

Too Close Sir Chloe // Lost Kitten Metric // Blah Blah Blah The Oozes // Wet Dazey and the Scouts // get him back! Olivia Rodrigo // Rehab People Planet // Margarita Spin Doctors // Paris Kate Nash // Denial Thing Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra (Spotify Alt: Gives You Hell All-American Rejects) // I Really F**cked It Up GIRLI // Good in Bed Dua Lipa

[iraprince]

gonna show u guys a little opalescent highlight hack i threw together today

rainbow gradient above your main figure (i usually have all my main figure folders/layers in one big folder, so i can clip gradient maps + adjustments to it!). liquify tool to push the colors around a bit. STAY WITH ME I KNOW IT LOOKS STUPID RN I'M GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS

THEN: set it to add/glow (or the equivalent in ur drawing program), lower the opacity a bit, and apply a layer mask. then u can edit the mask with whatever tools you like to create rainbow highlights!!

in this case i'm mostly using the lasso fill tool to chip out little facets, but i've also done some soft airbrushing to bring in larger rainbow swirls in some areas. it's pretty subtle here, but you can see it better when i remove the gradient map that's above everything, since below i'm working in greyscale:

more granular rambling beneath the cut!

u could also just do this with a brush that has color jitter, but what i like about using layer masks for highlight/shading layers is how simple and reversible it makes everything. i can use whatever brushes i want, and erasing/redoing things is super low stakes, which is great when i often approach this stuff with a super trial-and-error approach.

example: have u ever thrown a gradient w multiple colors over an entire piece, set it to multiply etc, and then tried to erase it away to carve out shadows/highlights? it's super frustrating, bc it looks really good, but if u erase something and then change ur mind later, u basically would have to like. recreate the gradient in the area u want to cover up again. that's how i used to do things before figuring out layer masks!! but masking basically creates a version of this with INFINITE undo bc u can erase/re-place the base layer whenever u want.

anyway, back to rambling about this specific method:

i actually have TWO of these layers on this piece (one with the liquified swirls shown above, and another that's just a normal concentric circle gradient with much broader stripes) so i can vary the highlights easily as needed.

since i've basically hidden the rainbow pattern from myself, the colors in each brushstroke i make will kind of be a surprise, which isn't always great -- but easily fixable! for example, if i carve out a highlight and it turns out the rainbow pattern in that area is way too stripey, i can just switch from editing the mask to editing the main layer and blur that spot a bit.

also, this isn't a full explanation of the overall transparency effect in these screencaps! there's other layer stuff happening below the rainbow highlights, but the short version is i have all this character's body parts in different folders, each with their own lineart and background fill, and then the fill opacity is lowered and there's multiply layers clipped to that -- blah blah it's a whole thing. maybe i'll have a whole rundown on this on patreon later. uhhh i think that's it tho! i hope u get something useful out of this extremely specific thing i did lmao

[zhelin-thames]

The Joker was ranting again, his shrill laughter echoing off the walls of the Justice League’s holding cells. Danny Fenton—or as they knew him, the Ghost King—leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face. The tension in the room was palpable, the League standing by in case the infamous clown decided to get creative. But Danny wasn’t worried. He’d dealt with worse.

“You think you’re so scary, huh?” Danny muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. The Joker’s grin faltered for a split second before he burst into laughter again, clearly unfazed—or pretending to be. Danny rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. You’re just loud and messy. Real fear doesn’t need a laugh track.”

The room went silent. Superman shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Danny and the Joker. Batman’s eyes narrowed, taking in the Ghost King’s uncharacteristic venom.

It wasn’t that Danny was usually chatty during these encounters, but his utter disdain for the Joker—his unwillingness to engage in anything more than curt dismissal—was becoming a pattern. Everyone noticed it, and no one dared ask. The Joker, for his part, didn’t push further. Something in Danny’s glowing green eyes made even him hesitate.

But when Jonathan Crane—the Scarecrow—was brought in a few weeks later, the mood shifted entirely.

Crane was quiet as he was escorted into a separate cell, his lanky frame hunched but his eyes sharp, calculating. The League had just wrapped up an exhausting mission to stop one of his fear toxin rampages, and they were still on edge. Crane didn’t bother with his usual monologues, which was unusual enough to make everyone uneasy.

Except Danny.

As soon as Danny saw Crane, he snorted. Loudly. The kind of derisive snort that made Wonder Woman glance his way in confusion. “This guy?” Danny said, pointing at Crane with his thumb. “Seriously?”

Crane’s head tilted ever so slightly, his curiosity piqued. “The Ghost King,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “A being of great power and…fear. How delightful.”

“Don’t,” Danny interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it before. And honestly? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Crane blinked, caught off guard. “Embarrassing myself?”

Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. You’re all about fear. Big bad Scarecrow, master of terror, blah blah blah. But do you even know what fear is? Real fear? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a guy with some glorified bug spray.”

The room went dead silent. Flash stifled a laugh. Batman’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering between Danny and Crane. The Scarecrow, however, didn’t seem angry. If anything, he looked…intrigued.

“And what,” Crane asked slowly, “would you consider real fear, Your Highness?”

Danny’s eyes glowed brighter, his voice dropping an octave. “Real fear is the kind that makes your soul ache. It’s the kind of fear that lingers in the dark corners of your mind, whispering that you’re not enough, that you’ll never be enough. It’s watching everything you love slip away and knowing you can’t stop it. It’s the void staring back at you and realizing it doesn’t care.”

He leaned forward, his face inches from the glass separating them. “Your little toxins? They’re cheap tricks. Flashy illusions. A waste of potential. You could actually do something with all your knowledge, but instead, you play Halloween in Gotham like some knockoff horror movie villain.”

Crane didn’t reply immediately. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. The others stared at Danny, half-impressed, half-confused. Even Batman’s ever-stoic expression had a flicker of something resembling surprise.

Finally, Crane chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “But fear, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the artistry in my work.”

Danny scoffed again, turning to leave. “Don’t hold your breath, Doc. You’d pass out before you made anything actually scary.”

As Danny walked away, Superman stepped up beside him, lowering his voice. “You’ve faced worse, haven’t you?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve been worse. That guy? He’s just a waste of scary.”

Superman frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Danny smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Stick around, Big Blue. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

[jewish-vents]

my neighbor tried to shoot my dog. he's antisemitic and I've always known that, but this was over the line even for him. what his dumb ass didn't realize is 1. my dog is fast as hell (regularly outruns my friend's greyhound) and 2. I have motion activated cameras that capture sound. his entire rant at me afterwards about how yeah, he did shoot at Ahwa, she's evil and so am I and all Jews should be torn apart and I'm lucky he lets me live in his state, blah blah bah? that's all admissible in court and permitted to be published online. this is a single-party consent state for recording. first this is going to the police and then if they don't do anything this is going online and I'm tagging his boss, his kids (who don't interact with him much bc he's a crazy Trump supporter) and the local news station.

I can take slurs. I can take threats. fighting isn't new to me. but if anyone comes for Ahwa I am going to do worse than kill them, I will make them so miserable death will seem preferable. I will make it so the first thing that comes up when anyone googles his name is him trying to shoot a dog. this isn't about anything but hate. this isn't about any of his stupid conspiracy theories and it sure as shit isn't about Palestine. this man is unhinged and armed and dangerous and I'm SO FUCKING TIRED of all the goyim around me going, "oh, this sort of thing happens. it could happen to anybody."

NO IT COULD NOT, ACTUALLY! and I hope if anyone ever treats them like he's treated me, people don't treat them like they've treated me.

and before anyone goes "well move" my family has been here since before this was a US state! since before there was a town here! since the literal 1830's! why should I have to move somewhere else to live in peace? nobody ever tells these kinds of people to move. "if you go to Israel you'll be safe" do you have ANY idea how hard it is to support my sick, elderly parents and myself on one salary? I don't have the money! I just fucking don't!

hot take: NO ONE SHOULD SHOOT AT MY DOG IN HER OWN YARD! it doesn't matter what someone's religion is or what their heritage is or even what their political beliefs are, you should never try to kill their dog! or their cat or their guinea pig or whatever! I hate this man. I have also NEVER tried to hurt his dog. she's done nothing to me. and whatever his conspiracy theories make him think I did to him, Ahwa has done nothing to him! malamutes are not part of ((the New World Order))) or whatever!

I'm so angry and so tired and honestly just so thankful Ahwa sprang up and bolted when she heard his footsteps. never in my life did I think it would come to this. I don't recognize the world I live in anymore.

.

[raven-dor]

obi-wan is worried about you - drabble #1

i was watching masters of the air and i felt inspired to write something about someone in a recovery room... and obi wan felt obvious to me, slight self depricating thoughts, fluff, mentions of injury, blah blah blah more fluff but like slight angst bc they can't love each other bc of the jedi code or whatever word count: 824

Your head was pounding, the last moments before you passed out playing on shuffle in your mind. You groaned, squeezing your eyes tighter as if that would help rid yourself of the memories.

Anakin barking out orders, the sound of dozens of blasters firing, aiming for the man who'd shot you. Ashoka racing over, wishing you could reach up and wipe away her tears. Obi-Wan's fearful cries from across the battlefield when you crumbled to the ground.

You couldn't find the energy to wake up, to pull yourself out of this 'coma'. You couldn't help but think that no one would miss you, no one would mourn you. It was hard, having no family, no lover. The Jedi code, with all its benefits, made one feel terribly alone at times.

You'd made your own little makeshift family during your time in the Jedi order. Anakin, Ashoka, and Obi-Wan were your friends, your people, the ones you knew you could rely on.

For now, you were just another body in the constantly full hospital wing. Thanks to the Clone War, more and more Jedi were getting put out of commission. You were just another statistic for the monthly report.

"I know you're awake." Obi-Wan's familiar timbre cut through your thoughts, startling you enough that you jumped. He laughed, most likely shaking his head like he always did.

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, his laughter enough to make you melt. He had this horrible habit of making you a blathering mess, tripping over your words, and giggling at nothing. Forcing yourself to wake up, you squinted as the bright daylight attacked your tired eyes. "Obi-Wan."

"You've been out for days." He was forcing himself to sound calm, you could tell by the way his knee was bouncing at the speed of light. He was anxious about it, your injury. Of course, he was. Obi-Wan was an anxious man. "The others were starting to worry."

You scoffed, sitting up in your bed, ignoring the way Obi-Wan jumped up to fix the pillows so they would support you. "Yes, I'm sure Anakin is beside himself."

"Ashoka has visited every day." He skirted around answering your comment. "She brought you flowers."

You looked over at your side table, smiling at the pathetic bouquet, now wilting from the lack of water in it's vase. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is."

You looked curiously at the older Jedi, a mischievous smile etched on your face. "How did you know she visited me every day?"

He could have lied, he could have said she told him, but he didn't want to. He never could lie to you; you were his greatest weakness. His greatest- He sighed, leaning forward in his chair. "I was worried sick about you."

"I knew it!" You laughed, pain shooting through your ribs from the action. "You shouldn't have done that, Obi."

"You just crumbled to the ground." His eyes were wide, wide with fear, worry, and concern for your safety. "I tried to help, I brought you here myself. But you still-they said you might not wake up."

You reached out, holding his hand in yours. "You're terribly kind for worrying about me."

"Of course, I was worried about you." He looked down at your joined hands, smiling to himself. "You know that I- that I love-"

"You can't-" You frowned, squeezing his hand as if that could offer any comfort. "You know we can't-"

"I know." He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back gently. You sighed, wishing he would just kiss you, that he would break the code. "Have I mentioned I was worried about you?"

You smiled, leaning your head back on the pillow, eyes full of adoration for the man sitting beside you. "You might have."

"Master-" You sat up straight, hands ripping apart as the young apprentice raced toward you. "You're awake!"

You nodded, smiling at the young girl, your arms wide open. "Ashoka."

She jumped on the bed, falling into your hold. Obi-Wan winced, itching to reach out and separate you. He was sure Ashoka was poking into something. "Be careful, please."

"I brought you flowers."

"I saw." You smiled, placing a comforting hand on her cheek. "You're very sweet for doing that."

"Did it help?" She crossed her legs, eyes wide as she waited for a response. "I hope it helped."

"It did." You nodded. "I think the smell from the bouquet lifted me out of my sleep."

"Good!" She was fully grinning. "I'm glad."

Obi-Wan simply watched, heart twisting at the sight. You had a comforting presence, one that instantly melted anyone's defensive nature. Seeing you with Ashoka was especially painful, as his mind drifted to forbidden thoughts of a family with you. With children.

For now, as he laughed at the young girl bothering you, this would do. Your smile was enough, the secret promise you had made with each other was enough.

[starryytales]

More Manipulative Ragatha.

ACK-

This was meant to be ~500 words and one part of a short story that went into detail of Ragatha doing different things on different days to push Pomni's boundaries, get her closer, etc. And was inspired by yesterday's ask about Ragatha intentionally throwing herself into harm's way to get hurt and get Pomni's attention.

Instead it ballooned up into a little over 2000 words and will be something of a standalone.

I would like to give my thanks and dedicate this to @miguxadraws whose enthusiasm helped push me to hit the ground running with this one!

With that said: small TW for needles (the sewing kind), and I hope you all enjoy..!

“I’m never sure how to start these things…”

I muse to myself as I tap the colorful pencil’s eraser against the empty, waiting page of my journal. Being the second longest lasting person in The Digital Circus changes how you think about information. Unlike Kinger, for example, I’m doing my best to not go insane by holding on to every piece of information until my mind snaps and I become amnesic. That means writing things down. Journal writing and compartmentalizing things. Separating the bad from the good and keeping the good close and the bad locked away.

“I suppose starting with this morning wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I flip the pencil around and begin jotting down what all happened…

Pomni woke up on me today. I didn’t bother with sleeping. Instead I just enjoyed watching her quietly snore throughout the night. God, she’s so cute when she’s asleep. She’s even more cute when she’s startled. She woke up, adorably mumbling about whatever dream she was having (I heard my name!!!), and stared up at me for a few moments. I didn’t say anything because she was clearly still out of it and wouldn’t have understood me anyway. When she realized she was using me as a full body pillow she let out wildest little yipe I’ve ever heard. She nearly hit the ceiling from jumping off of me so hard! It took a hot moment and a re-heated, leftover salmon cake to calm her down after that. I let her get dressed in peace (thank you again, God, for giving me a button eye to stealth watch with) and she left with a sweet little smile on her face.

I pause writing for a moment when I hear someone trying to stay quiet while working on something outside my door. Probably Jax. Probably with a bucket of insects and some kind of mechanical trap setup. I shake my head irritably but stay quiet. Jax would have been a lovely boy toy to keep if not for the fact he can’t stop being a punk for more than ten seconds. My single regret with him is that he only had one heart to break. The sound of his trap construction jolts me back to writing by jogging my memory.

The adventure!

How could I have nearly forgotten that when it was a huge amount of progress with Pomni?

Caine rounded us all up just like he does basically every other day.

“HELLO MY MUTANT MASHED POTATOES TODAY’S ADVENTURE BLAH BLAH BLAH-”

It was some kind of movie-like, ancient temple we had to find the treasure room of. The important part was Pomni and I took the ‘medium’ difficulty route, and we did it by ourselves. I was just about to see how well she dealt with an unprompted hand on her shoulder when I realized I had seen the hallway we were in before on a different adventure. Caine doesn’t just re-use NPCs, he re-uses chunks of levels sometimes. And I knew we were about 15 steps away from a circular saw trap that would shoot out from the wall and try to leave us with a nasty cut, to put it lightly.

My first instinct was to let Pomni walk into it. I thought it’d probably go right through her leg, maybe even both of them. I’d have to carry her all the way to the end and she’d have no choice BUT let me hold her. My better judgment got a hold of me, though. That was an awful plan. She’d hate being useless and dependent on me (at the moment, anyway). But I could still use the trap to my advantage to make her touch me…

I suddenly remembered why I nearly forgot the whole thing. Ever feel so much pain your body and brain try to factory reset?

“Hey, I think I’ve seen this hallway before.” I told her as I switched the side of her I was walking on. I picked up my pace slightly to make sure I triggered the saw without catching her as collateral. I braced myself as hard as I could without letting on something was up. A small part of me was begging to just not do this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

“Really?”

“Yeah! From a different adventure!”

And I think she was going to ask if I remembered anything helpful about it. That’s about when a single stone beneath my foot pressed down and I let out probably the longest running censor-bleep in Digital Circus history. The saw was as quick as lightning. My left arm, right above my elbow, was effortlessly sliced off, and the blade tore through my side like I was made of paper. I screamed and fell away from the blade. I landed against the wall opposite of it and started sliding down to the floor. Good God it hurt so bad I was seeing stars. Pomni shrieked and rushed over to me, hovering over me like she’d found a murdered body in an alleyway. I was in too much pain to get her to stop screaming for a moment so I could tell her what to do, and then she said that she would go get help.

That lit quite the fire under me, because:

1. I needed to get her used to touching me by getting her to patch me up, and, perhaps more importantly-

2. I’M TIRED OF HER RUNNING OFF WHEN I AM IN INCREDIBLE PAIN.

I have to say, despite the pain I was in, I was pretty slick with my next words.

Any person scared and hurt might say ‘don’t leave me,’ but if I left it at that, she might have just offered me a platitude about being back as soon as she could be. I had to twist the knife. She managed a single step away before I lunged at her foot and seized her ankle. I didn’t need to pretend to cry, as there were plenty of real, agonized tears.

“Please don’t leave me again!”

The ‘again’ sold it like beer at a college ball game. Oh, it hurt to see so much remorse in her eyes but it’ll make her think twice before running off again in the future. She dropped to her knees next to me and sputtered a dozen apologies before going quiet when I placed my hand on her upper leg to get her attention.

I remember gritting my teeth and having to hiss through the pain to direct her to my dress pocket (conveniently on the same side I was missing an arm on, and oh my how those little hands wander in a pocket) where I had my emergency sewing kit. Ugh. I could have died from cute-overload while watching her fumble so shakily while trying to thread that needle. When she finally managed it she looked at me with huge, worried eyes for guidance on what to do next.

I pause again to enjoy the memory of her looking at me that way. It’s almost dreamy to picture her like that. So nervously hanging off my every word… I could REALLY get used to that. Where was I? Oh, right, my little jester doing doll surgery on my side.

Feeling her touching me gently was so, so nice. And she listens so well. I bet if I told her that the stitching would only hold if she barked like a puppy, she might have actually done it. I’m so used to sewing myself up that the little pricks of the needle barely registered to me, so I up-sold the pain they caused. Clenching my teeth and (remaining) fist, and scrunching my eyes while hiccuping every few seconds as if I were holding back a breakdown. She paused once and held my cheek, and told me if I needed a break she would stop. AGH. I could have eaten her alive on the spot for being so sweet! Instead I sighed, enjoyed the touch, and thanked her but said I was okay...

I love Pomni to bits but she sews like a blind grandmother with arthritis. No cut like that is ever good or easy to work with, but even Gangle manages a cleaner stitch on a bad day. Still, that meant we got to spend the rest of the adventure like that. Her pressed up against my side, trying her best to hold as steady as possible, while keeping my stuffing from falling out as she stitches me back shut. Definitely worth every ounce of pain. When she was done she even crawled over to my arm and offered to try putting it back on. Absolutely precious.

I told her not to worry about the arm. Caine could fix it when we get back, and about when I said that our AI Overlord’s voice rang clear throughout the structure. Caine congratulated Gangle and Kinger for reaching the treasure room first, and declared the adventure over. Pomni and I fell through a portal that suddenly opened beneath us, and just like that we were back in the tent.

Caine looked me over and quipped I had gotten “too adventurous for my own good,” before snapping his fingers and fixing my arm. He then said something about seashells and vanished. The others were already heading their separate ways when I walked over to Pomni and hugged her. She jumped slightly, but didn’t pull away. I thanked her as warmly as I could for staying with me, and I saw on her face that same guilt from earlier being soothed slightly. It wasn’t enough to put her at peace, but enough so she knows I will happily praise her for doing something good.

I let her go and I offered her another meal tonight – if she was feeling up to it, that is. I could see her putting real thought into it-

My writing is once again interrupted by a dainty knock at the door.

“Ragatha? I’m here for dinner, but-” I quickly slam my journal shut and hide it away again. The last thing Pomni needs to see is the contents of that book. I hop up from my chair with a spring in my step and grab the doorknob, only for Pomni to suddenly shout.

“D-don’t open the door yet! There’s a bucket full of something on the door frame. It’s attached to some kind of trigger. Kinger’s getting it down now.”

I hear Kinger scraping something metallic away from the door before the man himself speaks up.

“Oh! That’s where you’ve all been. How do my centipedes keep winding up in buckets..?”

I had clean forgotten Jax trapped the door. The thought of being stuck with a bucket on my head as all of Kinger’s little hellspawns crawl over my face is almost enough to make me throw up, pass out, and start writing a manifesto. All at the same time. Did I say earlier I only have one regret about Jax? I have two. And the second is that I can’t drown him in the cellar.

“Okay! It’s safe now!”

Cautiously I crack open the door. My eyes are drawn to the movement of Kinger walking down the hallway with a bucket full of nightmares in his arms, but I quickly focus back on to Pomni. I let out a low, tired sigh and smile at her.

“You saved me twice in one day.” I try not to swoon, but it still kind of comes out that way. The little blush she starts sporting on her face doesn’t help.

“Ah- don’t worry about it.”

God she’s so cute when she’s bashful. I open the door and step aside to welcome her in with a playful flourish.

“Well, come on in! A hero deserves her heroic feast! I’ll get on it right away.”

“A heroic feast of spaghetti and meatballs?” She laughs, the sound as sweet as wine, as she enters and steps passed me. I laugh back with her as I start to shut the door so we can start another night off right.

“And garlic bread, that’s the really heroic part!”

[shouyuus]

hi not a request but I want to know how you got to be such a good writer. Practice? Or maybe writing exercises? Did you fall inlove with writing? If so, when and how? Has it always been, i don’t know, a thing you like to do ever since you were a lil kid? Or were you inspired by other pieces and authors. (mind-boggling curiosity is driving me rn)

ASDLFKJSD thank you ?!?!?! so. this is a question that i sometimes got on my old blog as well, and i've always dithered on how to answer bc there's no like... magic potion, right. there's no secret sauce.

unfortunately (and super boringly), how you get "good" at writing is just... practice. just hours and hours and weeks and months and years of practice.

i've been writing almost every single day since i was about 10 years old. i'm 30 now so that's twenty years of practice -- neigh on SEVEN THOUSAND DAYS of practice. i also majored in comparative literature, so i paid like insane amounts of money to an higher education institution, for people who are objectively considered experts in this field, to teach me and help me and coach me. i can't discount at all how important that was in like getting my writing to the next level (i can name the specific professor and course in my freshman year that changed me as a writer like that's how deep of an impression it left on me)

that being said, you don't need to do all that to become a "good" writer. and i think that's the best thing about this craft is that anyone can decide to pick up a pen one day and #Nike Just Do It. (also, good is subjective and like blah blah blah all that stuff)

but if you want actual tangible things you can do to improve your writing, here's some things that have helped me:

read. read alot. read everything. think of your body like a car. you need to put oil in to run. you need energy in to put energy out. in the same way, you need to intake good writing to output good writing. ive always been a voracious reader, and for the longest time, even when i was actively writing fanfiction (both online and just for myself), i wouldn't read any other fanfics, i would only read published books, and published books either from authors that i know i like, OR published books that i've vetted (ie read the first few pages of and said okay, this is a style i like and a story that's interesting to me)

it's impossible not to be "inspired" when you take in a lot of good writing. so read. but don't limit yourself to just fiction or whatever. read narrative nonfiction -- some of the most moving stories and well-written things i've ever read are actually essays, or longform journalism stories -- try a bit of everything and see what you like, and make note of the things you like to read

then, dig a bit deeper. if there's a sentence you find particularly moving, take it apart, try to figure out why you like it. i rmbr in elementary school we did "sentence diagrams" and it seems strange but getting really technical with writing is a good thing! and i'm the kind of nerd that loves stuff like this so u__u. BUT BUT the point of this is -- once you figure out how a "good" sentence is structured, you can take that structure and plug your own words in! and voila! it's another good sentence!!!! kind of like a super nerdy advanced version of mad-libs LOL

i went thru a phase of my life where i thought it was super cool to memorize famous first sentences of novels LMFAO (yes. again. my parents should've KNOWN i had adhd as a child holy fuck) but i did that for a while and i think that also just... ingrained in me specific sentence structures and turns of phrase that have stuck with me to this day.

if you read a thing and you don't like it, try to pause and ask yourself why -- was it the pacing? the structure? the characterization? what about it was offputting? try to be a more active/critical reader.

COPYWRITING. okay OKAY so this is a thing that i discovered only.... a few years ago? i think? but its a writing exercise wherein writers will literally copy out word for word writing that they like from another author -- not to publish, mind you, but just for the FEEL of writing it themselves -- NOW. i know what ur thinking "what the fuck why" but think about it this way -- classical musicians spend their entire lives playing pieces written by other musicians. dancers learn dances from other choreographers -- even choreographers start by learning dances by other people right like. why should writing be any different?

this does a few things -- it makes you an "active" participant in the writing. don't knock it till you've tried it -- reading a sentence (even deeply) and having to write/type it out yourself are two totally and completely different things. the way you pay attention to pacing, cadence, punctuation, line breaks, shit that you don't even think about when you're reading, suddenly, you're paying attention to it bc you're the one typing each and every letter, every comma, every exclamation mark.

i have a whole separate folder in my notion just for copywork. for the days that i don't feel like actually writing anything, i'll pick one of my favorite books from my favorite authors, and pull it up on kindle, and just copy out a few paragraphs, sometimes an entire chapter. and you'd be surprised at how different you feel after!

read/listen to poetry. this is more of a personal thing for me but i love the cadence of poetry -- i love internal rhymes and spoken word, i love limerence and sibilance and alliteration. i love IAMBIC PENTAMETER GODDAMNIT. lmfao but like. alot of times, prose is more "forgiving" in a way -- you have more space, more words to do the thing. poetry is (i think) the essence -- especially metered poetry, or specific forms of poetry where you have to write within a super rigid set of rules -- and sometimes, i think that creativity flourishes the best under "stress" aka under a strict set of rules. the shit that people come up with in very strict poetry is INSANE and sometimes i copy those out too, over and over again, just to feel the words and the rhythm

read your favorites over and over again. i used to never re-read books, but as i got older and my tastes became pickier, i find myself going back to reread my favorite books over and over again -- and it's fascinating because every time i go back, i find something new to marvel at, a new aspect. and i think that's the lovely thing about media after it's been put out in the world -- you can consume it over and over and over again, and each time, because of the way your brain is wired, of your physical setting, your mindset, you'll notice sometime different.

if you want a list of my fav books/authors, i can def make one! or i'll just reblog the list i made on my prev blog but yeah! lemme know if that's of interest to you! and i think you'll find that if you read any of my fav authors, you'll see immediately how they've inspired me LOL

and FINALLY be kind to yourself! you do not have to be good at every hobby you choose. if writing is something that just gives you joy and you don't want to become 'better' at it??? then that's perfectly okay! also, there are TONS of different styles of writing -- and not all of them is for everyone! you might like super dialogue-heavy writing, some other ppl might prefer really rich prose! it varies by person, and you'll never please everyone. so the best you can do is just write the stuff that makes you happy and that makes you giggle (lord knows thats what i've been doing on this blog) and if you want to put it out into the world, then do! but if you wanna keep it just for yourself, then that's good too!

just because you don't put it out into the world, doesn't make you any less of a writer!

[nerdyqueerandjewish]

7 Types of Rest

I've been reading a bit about this and jotting down some notes because the framework is helpful for communicating my different kinds of exhausted and gives me ideas on how to help myself more, and idk I thought I would share because I think other people might find it useful or interesting. I don't have just one article on it to recommend because unfortunately they are almost all trying to sell you their telehealth services or a meditation app or whatever.

**Disclaimer that resting isn't going to fix everything, examples of things to do aren't going to be accessible to everyone, they are just meant to be a start to brain storming, this is not medical advice etc...**

Physical - Relates to activities that are physically restorative

Mental - Relates to taking a break from mental stimulation

Spiritual - Relates to the fundamental need for belonging, purpose and acceptance

Emotional - Relates to being able to experience and express your real and authentic feelings

Sensory - Relates to giving your senses a break from stimulation

Social - Relates to feeling energized by spending time with people who contribute to your life in positive, supportive, and meaningful ways

Creative - Relates to appreciating beauty or feeling awe/wonder

Notes I made for "signs you need x type of rest" and actually getting that type of rest are under the cut. Again, they are personal so take them with a grain of salt. Also some of my notes on things I could do would definitely apply to others. I didn't want to keep writing "go outside" and "journal" for over half of them lol.

Physical Rest

Signs you may need physical rest

Feeling fatigued, body aches and pains

Feeling mentally sluggish or foggy

Getting some relief

Prioritize getting good quality sleep

Go on walks or engage in other gentle physical activity

Stretch throughout the day

Getting a massage (maybe trade with a friend or partner?)

Improve the ergonomics of your workspace

Mental Rest

Signs you may need mental rest

Unable to concentrate or recall simple things

Unable to relax

Racing thoughts

Getting some relief

Schedule breaks throughout the day

Write things down (can help racing thoughts or things you're worried about forgetting)

Do a satisfying activity that doesn't require much thought (example: coloring pages, simple craft)

Spiritual Rest

Signs you may need spiritual rest

Feeling lack of purpose or belonging

Getting some relief

Get involved in local community

volunteer

pray or meditate

Emotional Rest

Signs you may need emotional rest

Feeling weighed down

Stifling/suppressing feelings

Strong need to please others

Getting some relief

Talk to someone who allows you to be your authentic self

Participating in a peer support group

Journaling

Sensory Rest

Signs you may need sensory rest

Feeling energized at the start of the day, but becoming more irritable as the day progresses

Getting distracted by noises other people seem to be able to tune out

Getting some relief

Use dimmable lighting or lamps

Regularly set notifications to do not disturb

Use power strips to easily turn off multiple appliances at once

Avoid running loud appliances during busy parts of the day (ex. if washing machine is loud, don't run it while you're trying to pack and get out the door on time)

Social Rest

Signs you may need social rest

Feeling drained, exhausted

Feeling like your only interactions are with people who want/need something from you

Getting some relief

Nurture life-affirming, meaningful relationships

Make time for socializing with friends who don't "need" anything from you, where you can just enjoy each other's company

If you know you will be interacting with someone you find draining, make a plan to engage in social rest after

Creative Rest

Signs you may need creative rest

Feeling "blah"

Struggling with problem solving or brainstorming

Getting some relief

Go out in nature

Spend time in inviting spaces

Listen to music

Watch a skilled performer

Display items you find visually appealing in both home and work spaces

[thetheatrebrassiere]

you know what’s annoying/kind of fun simultaneously. people asking what are my hobbies and i’m like oh i don’t really have any… because i don’t consider the things i like to do (reading, online art curation or whatever, exploring everything i can in every possible medium) to be “hobbies”. and if i do bring up reading people ask what i read thinking, i assume, it must be like the fourth wing or whatever. nope! so many critical theory books in every possible domain. do you know how many fucking books i have. something like 2700 on kindle alone, another 700 or so in other digital formats and then another 100ish of radical lit, then god knows how many physical books. the total was like 4300+ when i counted recently but i added a bunch around my birthday. i don’t even update my goodreads anymore. oh my god i forgot my 450 audiobooks. jesus christ. “oh what kind of movies do you like” points to two laundry baskets full of criterion collection films. there’s no way out of this because even just listing the numbers is construed as bragging (i’ll be honest. i am somewhat proud of having a massive collection, it’s true) but all my collections of everything (oh my fucking god. my perfume collection alone) are simultaneously massive, in-depth on certain subjects, and also have massive breadth. and only from the last 9 years. and completely useless because i’m not going to find people irl that want to watch foreign sensationalist surreal dramas from criterion on dvd or will want to talk about like. already extremely niche forgotten art movements from the turn of the century or i don’t fucking know, twenty books of neuroscience and aesthetics, fifty on theoretical physics, a bunch of french decadent writing or translations of czech nihilistic descents into madness or romanian pessisimistic philosophy or the history of basque as a language or whatever the fuck else is in there in between the solid 900 books on feminism and women and women’s history and blah blah blah. i think i’ve read maybe a tenth of what i own and am trying to work through some now. why do i have over 150 regional world cookbooks. oh my fucking god

anyway the point was that it’s kind of fun to reveal the number and see people’s brains just break for a moment. also that i’ve niched myself into a corner

[cranberrymoons]

WAIT can you drop some wisdom on changing your life at 32 im 33 and i know SOMETHING needs to happen but i feel so trapped in my life TT TT (also oblogatory i think that buck calls eddie papi as a joke one time but it blows eddies mind and cue buck bouncing & squealing on it etc etc)

hi yes of course! I will acknowledge the privileged position I was in to have the freedom to do this (no spouse, no kids, mediumish financial stability) but to be really honest it was not easy and has not been a straight linear path. it was way more mental work than anything else, and I think the key to success at least for me really has been like a compilation of random things picked up from miscellaneous internet users "don't let yourself give up on yourself" "the time will pass anyway" "your fear of looking stupid is holding you back" "who cares what other people think about what you do with YOUR life" "the things you do during the day is how you are currently spending your life" "do it scared" like these are all random throwaway comments but I have actually repeated them to myself so so so many times. and said them in the mirror. and spoken them out loud in my car while I'm on my way to do something that is really really scary for one reason or another. and they have all genuinely helped me.

long rambling story below the cut lol also the papi thing is not my personal journey tbh but yay forever re buck bouncing on it 😌

about 18 months ago I had the Thing happen to me where your job that's been remote since covid suddenly decides they want everyone to be in the office. and so I had to decide if I wanted to move halfway across the country to do that, or if I wanted to lose my job. woohoo. :)

and so I started thinking about it and it kind of made me realize I actually fucking hated that job 😭 I'd been there for OVER FIVE YEARS and there were so many things I did notttt like that I had just kind of gotten used to? but as soon as I decided I didn't want to move for this job, it was like I could not stop noticing the things that had been like. low level annoying me for a really long time.

and so I started looking for a job and looking and looking and realized like. I don't actually want to do these jobs. the idea of taking another job like the one that I had was literally making me feel sick to my stomach (it was a vague email job where I had like a "project manager" type of title but even though I had that job for 5 years I honestly do not really know what I did all day or what my job really was. one of those like extremely fake office jobs that still somehow manages to give you anxiety because everyone else is always talking about how BUSY they are etc)

and anyway long internal personal journey blah blah blah, I started to say to myself like. you are 31-32 YEARS OLD!!!! it is time to finally be an active participant in your own life instead of just doing what everyone else wants you to do. but also like – okay, so you don't want to do this vague officey email job, but you have to do SOMETHING so what do you want to do??

and eventually I noticed this pattern in my life of like, I have always sort of done the thing that's *next to* the thing I actually want to do. if that makes sense? like – I've always done the thing that "makes more sense" for what people expect of me, or the easier option, or the thing that feels safer. idk. so I was like okay – moonshot, you can do whatever you want, life is just an open world video game (again, I am unmarried and don't have kids, so there's no one directly depending on me to take less risks, which makes this a little easier). if you could do anything, what would you want to do.

and so over the past year and a half, I quit my job, took a pay cut to take an easier/chill fun job in the meantime while I went back to school, started to get super in shape for literally the first time in my life lol, became an EMT, and now I'm planning to start with a fire academy at the end of the summer, which is like 70% something I have actually always wanted to do but was embarrassed about for some reason / 30% hyperfixation so strong it became a profession. which – turns out! – is a profession that I am actually super good at and love in a way that I have never loved a job before. like, looking back at my life 2 years ago it is unrecognizable to what I'm doing now. yay.

[chuckfinnlypwrmadness]

OK, I’ve heard this enough times and it seems like everybody on here has a misunderstanding about tweakers partying with other tweakers.

Hooking up with someone; that is where two people meet with the sole intention of fucking each other and having a good time doing that with each other. Neither one of them is paying the other. If there’s money involved, you’re a hooker. Nobody wants to hire a hooker to hook up with.

PNP; means party and play, not play & pay. When two people PNP normally the guy will rent a motel room for one to three nights, by the party favors and pretty much pay for the whole weekend. I myself will give the lady that I spent the weekend with a little sack to take with her so she doesn’t have to come down so hard. I’m not going to pay someone to show up to do that with me. That’s not how that works. You talk to somebody online or you’ve already know them you meet at the motel room I don’t pay for your gas to get there. I don’t have to cash app you money because you’re a broke ass bum you can’t drive across town probably cause of course you don’t live nowhere near where I’m at. And the funny thing is, y’all try to run that game all the time and it’s bullshit. I need gas money. I need a card all that dumb shit everybody’s hip to it. Meet someone across town at a motel walk in the door. Take all your clothes off. Get in the shower come out. Sit on the bed. Sit next to each other, talk get high fool around kiss watch TV whatever play game listen to music. But at no time does anybody exchange money? Nobody gets paid to be there. Another thing is who wants to send somebody some money so they can watch them on a video blowing clouds? That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve heard in a long time. I assure you there are plenty of women out here that you don’t have to pay at all to party with.

I have had girls that I was going to PNP with who did not wish to have sex and I told them that was fine. We don’t have to. I’ll pay for half of everything you pay for the other half the stuff, the motel, blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah. And they were like why do I have to pay because usually when you PNP with someone whoever’s paying decides on what the activities will be most guys wanna have sex or fool around or whatever and if you don’t wanna do that then we can split the bill right in half. Anyways, I just wanted to clarify that if you’re on here trying to meet someone and hook up or PNP or blow clouds and you want to do it over a video chat or they have to send you money you’re fucking the game up and 90% of these girls on here talking about, I’ll deliver to you  and fuck you they are full of shit. I’m not gonna buy shit online so just give it up. I’m not going to send you money for gas or your sisters kids to watch a video or whatever that other dumb shit y’all talk about. I’m not doing it. Don’t ask me. I have women out here that want to party and play just to party and play and they want to hook up because they wanna get fucked and they are not asking for any money! Something else gentlemen, the majority of these girls on here are not girls. There’s some freaking Asian in a treehouse trying to scam you or some Indian in India trying to get your money. They’ll never show up. You lose all your shit. They are worthless  spineless pieces of shit ! They’re not real.

If you want to meet in PNP or hook up or SK8 and you don’t require any kind of money to get you to show up to have this fun then come on. If you’re broke ass needs money get a job suck dick do something quit trying to cheat everybody on here out of their money. It’s pathetic!!

ONE OTHER THING. PEOPLE WHO GET SPUN OUT EVERY DAY ARE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY LIVE THIS LIFESTYLE. THEY CAN TELL BY LOOKING AT YOU IF YOU REALLY GET SPUN OUT EVERY DAY OR YOU’RE DOING ANYTHING A LOT OF Y’ALL SAY Y’ALL WANNA DO ALL THESE THINGS BUT Y’ALL DON’T LOOK LIKE A TRUE PLAYER!

SOMEONE THAT GEEKS EVERY DAY AND LOOK AT A WOMAN TELL IF SHE’S REALLY GEEKING IF SHE GEEKS AT ALL. SO JUST KNOW THAT YOU’RE NOT FOOLING NOBODY!

REMEMBER, IF SHE’LL TWEAK SHE’LL FREAK

⚡️⚡️

[whentherewerebicycles]

.

I’m having kind of a bad brain day today and I can think of two to two point five reasons why but one of them is definitely that I feel a deep pit of dread in my stomach about work a lot of the time lately. I think for a while I got a brief reprieve from the bad feelings because I’d submitted those three applications and was feeling like there might be some escape hatches still. but I think I now have to accept that 1) I’m not even going to get a first interview for these jobs, which is humbling and honestly kind of crushing, 2) given hiring freezes and the current state of higher ed there are not going to be other jobs opening up in my field anytime soon, maybe for years, and 3) this isn’t really a good time to be changing jobs anyway given economic uncertainty. so I think even though nothing about my situation has materially changed I am just right back in that headspace of feeling totally trapped. and even though I am trying so so so hard to look for the positive and to reframe stuff in a more positive way and to handle things maturely and to not take stuff personally and to just in general care less about work, it just takes like. constant effort to do that. and I am so tired of doing it and also just tired of feeling bad when so much else in my life is so good. I was so euphorically happy when I was on family leave and working at my coaching job and now I am just like. still very happy in other parts of my life but also sort of mentally trudging up a steep hill at all times. I feel incredible at 4pm on Fridays when I delete outlook off my phone but by 11am on Sundays I am sliding back into this state of muted despair. why does it make me feel so bad!!! I think I also feel shitty about it because I think other people would probably be able to brush this off and just be like oh that’s weird, seems like that person has some issues, and move on. but for whatever reason I am soooooooo emotionally flayed open by someone implying that I am not competent and speaking to me with barely veiled contempt in their voice. blah blah blah I can’t even write about it without feeling these sick awful stomach-churning feelings of shame. and then to bolster myself emotionally I have to keep reminding myself of all the people who have explicitly told me that this person is the problem, not me, that this person is the one who “doesn’t know the work” and is “in over her head,” and that this person lashes out when they feel unsure or confused, and that it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me it’s not me. but that ALSO feels bad because it reminds me of how stuck I am in an untenable situation and how everyone KNOWS about the problem but will not do anything to address it and just blahhhh!!!! blah!!!!!!! I have to vent these feelings here and then I must somehow make myself stop thinking about it because it’s ruining my entire sunday and I should get to count as working hours the hours I spend thinking about how to deal with this person.

[ernmark]

When I was in college, a friend of mine got a job at one of the campus help centers where they're supposed to help students who are struggling get their feet under them.

Based on his training there, he insisted that he wanted to have a similar session with me in order to Fix me.

(This speaks volumes about the help the other students were getting, I think.)

See, the entirety of his assistance was sitting with me and creating a nice, tidy little schedule for my life in fifteen-minute increments, with tidy little spots for daily workouts and weekly meal prep. And he kept getting frustrated with me for not being able to put my activities for the day in any order, or assign them specific periods of time, or being willing to commit to following this militant schedule to the letter.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I'm a writer-- I have no control over when the words come. Sometimes I'll be doing something Very Important and I'll have to put it on hold because if I don't write this line of dialogue down Right This Second it's going to make it impossible for me to focus at all. Sometimes I'll be staring at a blank word document for two hours and get a sentence and a half done. Sometimes it'll be three in the morning and I'll have been writing for five hours straight but I won't be able to sleep until I get it written.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I have debilitating depression, and sometimes it takes hours to gather enough energy just to get dressed.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I don't actually know how long something like cooking is going to take, because every recipe calls for completely different cook and prep time, and I can't predict what's going to be utterly unappetizing until I look in the fridge for that meal.

There was no accommodation for the fact that I have a sleep disorder, which between the depression and the rest, makes it damn well impossible to predict when I'll be able to start sleeping, or when I'd need to wake up in order to be rested.

And that's what it comes down to-- there was absolutely no leniency or accommodation for anything outside of that ultra-disciplined, hyper-regimented approach. There was no allowance made for neurodivergence or disability of any kind. Despite knowing me for years at that point, he couldn't understand why I just didn't Try Harder. Clearly I'd succeed if I just did it his way.

A few things that did actually help me, for the record:

When there's something that I Know is going to occupy the entirety of my brain until I do it, I just freakin' stop whatever else I'm doing and do it. In my case, that's usually writing down whatever bit is in my head, but also it can be getting out of bed to make sure I turned the stove off, or making sure I locked the door, or paying my credit card bills in the middle of the night, or whatever.

A lot of my executive dysfunction is exacerbated by sugar/protein levels, so I keep a supply of protein shakes on-hand. It doesn't necessarily fix my depressive episodes, but it gets me out of those loops where I can't do X until I do Y until I eat and I have to eat first because if I don't eat now then I won't be hungry for dinner and then blah blah blah.

On that note: I can't control when/how I sleep, but I can control how many meals I eat during a day and roughly when they happen. Eating regularly helps to make the rest of my natural rhythms a little more predictable.

I have a short list of foods that my household can reliably eat and try to keep the ingredients for that stocked.

I do actually do a little bit of scheduling-- I set aside a few-hour-block on two days of my week to work out. Not because I Must do it, but so that I'm not preoccupied with the constant background radiation of "I should be working out more". If it's not Monday or Friday, it's not going to happen.

Forgiving myself for not being at peak productivity levels at all times. My boss will get what I have it in me to give them, and not more. My writing might not be at its best all the time, but it's a hell of a lot better than a blank page. Pushing myself past my limits to adhere to an impossible standard only exacerbates all those other problems.