#but it works goddamnit

[arwamachine]

For the ask: 6, 12, and 22! Love your work!

Thank you for the aaaaask!!

6. do you have any kind of consistent writing schedule or just hoping for the best?

I'm incredibly fortunate to have weekday evenings free, so I usually get my writing done then. I try to write some words in some project at least once a day

12. do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that? 

I've definitely had some days where my attention span really isn't playing along. I'll sometimes set one of those distraction timers that keeps me off certain website (hellsite included), and even though I've learned that listening to classical music shaves off the edge of the inattention, I rarely use it. I just try to tell myself that some days aren't as productive as others but it all balances out in the end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I think the trick is to learn what works for you and your brain, but ultimately not to force it. Putting too much pressure on performance is a sure-fire way to get the yips

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

Ohhhh boy...you asked for it. I'm going to put this below the cut, because it is involved 😅

(remember how I said I'm neurotic? Yeaaaahhh...)

1. Splat. I word-vomit an idea into my Notes app, usually in a single disjointed paragraph. Notes to myself, character descriptions, plot-points, and possible lines of prose are all muddled together, sometimes within the same sentence. Some ideas never make it past this stage, some hang out in this stage for months before getting picked up and transformed into a real boy, some get picked up immediately. You never know which it'll be. That's the beauty of the Splat

2. Murder board. I generate something that can be called an outline in the roughest of possible definitions. This has a general plot structure (although not necessarily in order) mixed in with character descriptions, any research I have done on the story (with reference links included...learned that the hard way), various ideas I have, and whole paragraphs of prose that get written out whenever they come to me. Picture the crazed Charlie Day string-and-pictures conspiracy meme, just with words. As soon as this document contains both a beginning and an ending to the story somewhere in its sprawling notes, I start writing.

3. Actual legible outline. Once my murder board exceeds 30 pages and is near impossible to wade through, I create an actual outline. Usually I have written like half of the story at this point. This outline is basically a distilled version of the murder board, with single-sentence bulletpoints of what happens in each scene. Everything is in order and nothing hurts. I rely heavily on both this outline and whatever hasn't been used from the murder board until the first-first draft is written.

4. First-first draft. The point of this draft is to get the general events of the story onto the page. The first-first draft is complete when I have something like a beginning, middle, and end written. I don't allow myself to get bogged down with research, naming characters, finding perfect sentences/words, connective tissue (I call this "A to B"), or any scenes that are throwing me for a loop. If I find myself getting stuck on something, I make myself a note and move on.

5. Second-first draft. Here, I go back through the first-first draft and curse myself for not writing all the parts that I didn't write. I do the research I ignored, write the difficult scenes that threw me for a loop, figure out all my A to Bs, and name the goddamn antagonist. The point of the second-first draft is to get 100% of the words on the page.

6. Set it and forget it. I do not touch the story for a specific length of time, which is determined by the length of the work. Shorter pieces have a set-and-forget of about two weeks. Longer works are set-and-forget for a month or more.

7. Come to Jesus. After the predetermined length of time, I pick the story back up and re-read it. Is it actually good? Does it make sense like I think it does? Did I use the word "whole" 17 times in one paragraph? And--more to the point--is it suitable for other people's eyeballs?

8. Other eyeballs. If this is fic, here is where I'll send to beta if I'm using one (I tend to only get longer fics beta'd). If this is professional writing, I send it out to folks in my life whose opinion I trust. I receive feedback and make additional edits accordingly.

9. Tinkering. I do another full review before step 10, usually with the help of a text-to-speech app so I can hear how it sounds (this also helps identify some typos). If this is a fic (single chapter), I do one final read-through before posting. If it is a multi-chapter fic, I do a read-through of each chapter the week before it posts.

10. Fly, my pretties! It this is a fic, it gets posted. If it is professional writing, it goes Out. Either way, may god have mercy on its soul.

11. Immediately discover a typo.

[lkigami]

Kunigami loves tits.

He loves the way his big hands lave your soft flesh mounds, massages them , makes them soft.

He loves the way they squish against your tightly fitted shirt, how they smoosh up on him whenever you hug his muscular arm.

He loves the way you look up at him, with a black dress that seems to be made for you in your honour ; like a goddess that needs to be worshipped parallel to the way he worships your tits.

He loves the way your nipples harden under his jersey, how your cheeks are red and you’re panting like a bitch in heat desperate to be bred by his cock.

He loves the way you take him like a good girl but he’s not focused on your face ,no. He’s staring up at your udders, mesmerized by the way they jiggle whenever he thrusts up in your tight little cunt.

Kunigami loves you, and he also loves your tits.

[memcoms]

USOPP💪💪💪💪

Hes available as a design sticker on my website (i also take commissions :)!)

[buwheal]

I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

We're Going on a Treasure Hunt

Ok so this was going to be something explained in the recap tonight, and it still will be but I can't wait that long because someone needs to gush over it with me or I'll explode.

I have to say, hats off to the folks over on twitter @fowlfiend for making this connection

Earlier today, Chaos Dad, David Jenkins posted the following picture of Rhys that Rhys shared on his Instagram with a song attached to it called "I'm a Man" by Jobriath.

😳😱🫡FUCKING OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN-- BUT I DIGRESS 🫡🫡🫡

Now, all well and good right? Rallying cry to all the crew! BUT Twitter folks think there's a deeper meaning and I'm inclined to agree.

How fucking cool is that? I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE SENDING US ON A TREASURE HUNT. Now I gotta analyze every FUCKING POST that David Jenkins makes, like I didn't have enough shit to do.

[jen-with-a-pen]

a friendly reminder 🙃

Some of you are new here, and I won't fault you for that. Some of you are learning or re-learning stuff here. That's okay.

but please for the love of fucking everything holy

PLEASE DONT BE THIS PERSON

Please don't spam like, thinking you're doing something. It does absolutely nothing to help us authors out.

It's also fucking annoying. Even more so when you look like a goddamned bot 😀

Spam liking without reblogging, looking like a bot, and/or having no age in your bio, IS AN AUTOMATIC BLOCK.

and this isn't just from me. You will be blocked by so many other authors as well.

please, if you aren't familiar with Tumblr or fandom etiquette, there are SO MANY posts about it. If you need any help navigating, I promise my DMs and ask box are ALWAYS open for questions. I've been there. I made mistakes too. But I learned. Y'all need to, too.

[itachanta]

Okay, so, making a re-watch of Trigun Stampede, and knowing Kenji Muto (Director) and Yoshihiro Watanabe (Producer) said something about the anime being an experiencie, and not wanting to make the characters say and explain everything (thus they want us reading between the lines), I noticed a stupid thing that I LOVED (probably someone already pointed it out but whatever).

This part where Meryl and Roberto split up from Vash, and he said to Wolfwood they were not friends, hurt a lot and left me very sad.

At first, I was disappointed. However, getting to know Vash more, I began to understand him. He always tries to distance himself from humans, even though he loves them so much, because they always end up getting hurt in some way as a result of his presence. So, yes, I understood why he said that. He was drawing a line. “If I don’t call them friends, they can’t get hurt”. Plus the fact that he’s 150 years old, so he probably sees these things with very different lens.

BUT. This part here. In episode 9, when Vash asks "about the others well fare" after the incident.

She calls them “his friends”.

At first, he is confused, because, as I said, he draws such a strict line in his mind, he can’t actually recognize them as such, at least consciously.

BUT HE DOESN’T DENY IT THIS TIME. AND HE SMILES WITH SOFTNESS IN HIS EYES.

I know what you did here, Studio Orange. I know it was intentional, these two conversations about friends. They are connected.

I love my poor depressed boy Vash so much and I want him to be happy.

[fooltofancy]

Hi!! How about Summer Shells for your favourite love interest from the latest IF you've read?

it's just field of asphodel in here rn, tbh, and i am nothing if not predictable.

[bhaalborn]

*slaps this down* this bad boy is a starter call. multis pls specify what muse u want it for. these could potentially be one-liners, but don't quote me on that

[amygdalae]

Repainted my nails and there are a bunch of air bubbles trying not to kill myself about it

[gayshipsandanxiety]

typing up my gay little resume so i can walk around my gay little town and ask for a gay little job

[kodieshmodie]

And now, for the thing my Twitter followers are sick of hearing about, my FFXV Valentines keychains!! 💌💐

💝💌Each boy with a gift I think they deserve! Are they from a secret admirer (you), or perhaps from one of the other boys? It’s up to you!! 💌💝

These charms are very near and dear to my heart. Not only are they my first merch items ever, but they are the thing that got me out of a 5 year long art slump!! I love them so much, and I hope you love them too!

Come check them out for yourself, link to my ko-fi in my bio! 🤩💖

[andhumanslovedstories]

Also do you have any nursing book recommendations (not study books I mean novels)

Okay so it's not nurses exactly but from Terry Pratchett, the Tiffany Aching series and the Discworld witches are basically my nursing icons. From Granny Weatherwax to Tiffany Aching to Nanny Ogg to the witches that are a little too into crystals and all that, I just think something about the witches captures the good and bad of the spirit of nursing better than basically anything else.

But that's literally it, I don't have other nursing vibe novels and I would also love them. Recommendations please, anyone who has any.

(Actually, I do have another one sort of, which is the Protector of the Small series protagonist Kel by Tamora Pierce, but that one's maybe so tangentially related it only exists in my head. There's something about a work ethic dedicated to unglamorous labor that just gets me.)

[sualne]

me: i fucking hate the fanservice in mieruko chan *chapter 57 exist* me: *giggling and kicking my feet* haha ❤ nevermind ❤ the fanservice:

[scalefeathers]

Trying out some new brushes with some blorbo screenshot studies, and this blue asshole’s still living in my head rent free

[leohttbriar]

not done thinking about the impact of this decision to go back in time, within in the story--the drama, the implications, the existentialist commitment--so i wrote out a possible version of the letter jadzia records for her mother, right before they switch the helm to auto-pilot (metaphorically and actually).

To my mother:

I am sorry--for my incoherence. I normally have a script for this sort of thing, but today the scripts are lost. Maybe because now everything has already been scripted, in an impossible loop. So for this, I’m expressing some unique regrets. This is the message you never hoped you would get--a message you never hoped you would get that you will enjoy far less than that message you never hoped you would get. For that and many other reasons, I am of course sorry. I don't have long. But really, I have so much time and I do not want it. (Actually, I’m sorry for saying that. I want my time in life, I promise. I am sorry for causing you pain.)

Aren’t I just sorry about so many things, now? If I could look at myself from the outside, I would even venture to call myself pathetic. Perhaps that’s what Yedrin sees—the girl who couldn’t save her friend, the girl who couldn’t move on, the girl who is now him, the girl who caused this whole nightmare to begin with.

(I expect the mission briefing being transmitted with all our farewell missives will explain who Yedrin is for you. And what it is I have done.)

The fact is, mother, I am still alive. I am just in a place where you can’t reach me. Time is trapping me, as well as several thousand promises in the shape of people. They want to live and Kira wants them to live so now I will go back to ensure it. I will do what has been reported of their history to ensure that history is written. I will marry Worf and bear countless children and when I do eventually die a generation from now, Dax will go on to another—as is custom. So you see, I am still alive and will remain so long after you read this.

What should I even ask you to mourn, is the question. I’m already mostly absent from your life, at least physically. If I were not to go on this journey back in time, I would still be so far away from you, by so many light-years, that by relative standards we would still be separated by time. Distance is time and time is space—when dealing with quantities like this. Me in a starship, you home… listening to a message I recorded for you a month ago about some organic stone that grows like a plant. (I am sorry, that you have been even for a moment an afterthought to my curiosity. Or maybe I’m not sorry, for still I’ve been gone. Caring more about stones than anything else.) My being on this planet and deliberately stranding myself two hundred years in the past is hardly going to change the status quo, excepting a handful of visits.

Yet, I am sorry. I’m sorry, too, for even trying to pretend like this isn’t the end of something. You will probably not be satisfied to know I’m doing this in service to others. I personally can’t think you selfish for preferring your daughter in the same instantaneous slice of time. But I won’t waver from this, now that it’s decided.

It’s the end of Kira’s life and it is also the end of mine. You’ll accuse me of being dramatic, but I have no intention of labeling this next performance as something as wild and unique and fresh and interesting and fun as life. There’s no real death to it, either—for someday I am will come stumbling down onto this planet again and start this letter to you over once more. Maybe.

Do you remember when I told you about the proto-universe that we had to set back in the wormhole? You said it reminded you of working with delicate coral polyps in your garden, making sure there are enough of them upon each branch, that they are flowering and not crowding, that they are able to eat. That has stayed with me for longer than you know—the image of great dark-energy corals, holding little polyp universes on their colorful bones. And your work, it is something mundane, humble—you’ll call me elitist for saying so—but it’s true. Also true is the fact that I do not wish to do humble work, even if it is beautiful like your garden. I like gardens to stay where I can think about them—in the dark—not where I have to do the digging myself, where the digging is just for planting and not for studying. You’ll say again I’m elitist for drawing that distinction. But my place is in a lab, hitting my head on a fume-hood and taking my time stirring a solution with my glass-stirrer. Because I like the sound it makes against the beaker.

I will think of your coral garden for the rest of my life. I will think of Trill and its amethyst ocean and skies and grass. I will think of my dear father and sister and, of course, you, mother. I hope you will think of me too, doing something different than planting crops: maybe living a life off-planet, discovering a smart fungus that would make father scrunch his nose in distaste…and make you smile.

I would give so many things to return to you. But, alive or not, I am now lost.

I will try to be happy—I have been assured I will find some happiness, even if now it is hard to comprehend. And I’ll play the stone-tossing games, that you taught us when were little, with my own inevitable children. We’ll do what you always showed us how to do. We’ll have a lot of fun.

Your daughter, Jadzia.