#sometimes i see people who write like A LOT on here

[myfairkatiecat]

okay so shannon giving us a keefe pov seems actually lowkey important and what i would do in the story rn but I'm not convinced she's going to use it to do the things I feel like we need her to do.

let me explain.

Shannon set Sophie up as a character who behaves certain ways. A lot of those ways are very good, and she's certainly a hero, but she also has character flaws that get worked through. For example, she can be a little reckless (personally I would have made all the same choices) (I know we think of Keefe as the reckless one but he's a different type of reckless) she can prioritize the wrong things, she can be disorganized, etc (all things that are super valid and understandable and make her relatable btw. I am a sophie foster defender)

and BECAUSE sophie is the protagonist, we see all of this develop. She has certain qualities that are a little stagnant sometimes, at least if you look from the outside, but there's actually a ton of development going on. She hears others' opinions on her actions, good and bad, and the reader sees how this impacts her and how she grows and changes, even if that change is nonlinear or in many ways she stays the same and just grows more mature.

Here's the thing about Keefe. he wandered out of side character territory and into second main character territory starting at the end of everblaze and peaking in legacy. And Shannon has been INTENTIONALLY writing him with consistent character flaws since the beginning, explainable by his past circumstances in fascinating ways. But we aren't there to see a lot of the falling out for that stuff.

A lot of people complain that keefe never faced consequences for stealing the caches or never had the black swan or adults yelling at him or mistrusting him or his friends avoiding him. And like... we do not know that. It could simply be that that was just not Sophie's problem at the time. Sophie also may have simply not been one of the people giving him a difficult time about it. In fact, we know she wasn't, but boy oh boy Fitz certainly didn't bounce back in less than five seconds. And we don't know what the Council and/or black swan did with him that sophie just wasn't involved in--and bc it didn't become relevant to the plot from sophie's perspective, sophie being the actual MC, it just seems unimportant.

Another thing is that Keefe has a lot of the same character flaws throughout the series, but they do shift somewhat with his experiences, and that's without us even seeing in his head, you know? So here's the thing.

Shannon went and started developing Keefe like a second protagonist (who is interestingly also an anti hero in some ways) and even if you aren't a person who thinks he's the most developed character on the paper (disagree but see where you're coming from) he's DEFINITELY most developed in shannon's brain, and that bleeds through. But then we ONLY see Sophie's perspective BECAUSE THIS IS SOPHIE'S STORY, and everything revolves around what is relevant to the plot from her perspective, and then keefe is just in the background being extremely important and relevant and having all these extra issues that we ONLY ever see from sophie's perspective.

Unlocked was... well, it was half a book, and only half of it was keefe. I actually do think his perspective was enlightening in some ways, but a full keefe book at this point kind of seems necessary to me. Because... he's taken on the role of another main character in this story, but we don't see any of that development happening, and for a lot of people i can see that getting taxing. Now I get that those same people also wish keefe would just. step back from the plot. and i get that! but I think with the way he's involved in the plot NOW, seeing his perspective is important, because sophie's POV (especially with her unreliable narration) doesn't give us enough of a window into the complexity that is keefe's worldview right now, especially with all the ways he keeps impacting things. it's just a really important perspective to have at this point.

Shannon, if unraveled is just keefe trying different human foods and giggling like a kotlc react on wattpad, I will probably enjoy it bc i love your work always, but i will also be shaking you by the shoulders because we need this book and you better spend it doing the things we need

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[skyfallscotland]

I also just need to add, and I hope @justallihere doesn’t mind me sharing this publicly (we all know I don’t ask for permission) but:

“i promise if it doesn't add up i've thought about it for a minimum of 57 hours and tried to make it add up”

I think people think we’re critical for the sake of being negative nancys sometimes and that’s not the case, the fact is we spend a lot of time thinking about this world and these characters and you guys know that because you benefit from it—but the flip side to that is we have already considered every possible defence for clear mistakes.

Some people act like it’s a crime to point them out, but it really isn’t. If you’re not willing to hear any minor criticism of the world building, you probably shouldn’t get to enjoy fanworks by people who are forced to consider them and run rings around them to make them make sense (in my personal, savage fucking opinion).

Like do you know how much effort goes into writing fanfic? I feel like most people don’t. I promise you we’ve thought about this world more than the average person. I spend hours of my life every week considering it, actually. So I think we (fandom creators in general) get a pass on pointing out the fuck-up’s that are blindingly obvious when we see them. It’s not like I’m talking to RY’s face.

This isn’t aimed at anyone in particular, (especially not the last post I reblogged, everyone had some good ideas there trying to explain the Lewellen-Lindell dilemma away and that’s fun and I appreciate the discourse) but I do feel like there’s been some commentary lately on here that’s felt very culty and toxic positivity vibes and I’m not about that. I get enough of that in my regular life as a chronically ill, autistic person. I’m not gonna create content for a community that takes realism as negativity.

I’m just calling it how I see it. Notice how in my last post I defended Rebecca? Very mindful, very demure, very normal. Don’t be weird 😭

[yanderenightmare]

heya! do you have any more writing tips for writing on tumblr? like, any tips to get as much attention as you, kinda

Oh yes.

♡ Post in different lengths!

Or, more precisely, don’t only post long full-fics with multiple chapters.

I know it sounds weird, but the more effort you put into something doesn’t actually guarantee more payoff. Why would anyone read your hour-long fic if they have no previous experience with your writing that gives you credibility? In other words, how can they know spending an hour reading your writing is worth it?

More people are likely to grab a bite-sized appetizer than they are to sit down for a full five-course meal.

But! The more people like those bite-sized appetizers, the more likely they are to want to sit down for that full five-course meal, you know?

Think of those bite-sized appetizers as taste tests—kind of like commercials that bring more people in to give your actual meals a try.

Also, writing in different lengths is good for you! Only writing hour-long stuff makes you burn out quickly, which brings me to my next tip:

♡ Post often!

If you can, try posting something every day. Of course, you can’t post full hour-long fics every day, which is where writing smaller things such as drabbles, headcanons, and tiny prompts come in. Think of them as flings you have in between your long-term relationships. They’re fun little things good for your health!

But anyway, here’s a tip for when you do have those long-term relationships—as in, when you want to write full-fics or longer posts in general:

♡ Start with a hook! 

My attention should be seized by the first paragraph, if not the very first sentence I read. This is so important.

I’m a very picky reader sometimes—so if that first line doesn’t interest me, I’ll be fast to scroll to find something more enticing. And you can be sure a lot of readers are the same.

Under are some examples of my own start-liners.

Something foreboding:

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

The plot:

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

Something catchy:

Give a brat an inch, and they'll take a mile. 

Something snappy:

You’re his favorite whore…

Dialogue:

“Feels like you’re luring me into some trap.”

A prompt:

Yanderes who keep you higher than a kite…

In medias res:

You lay on your belly on the bed.

Anyway, they don’t have to be groundbreaking—just anything that will spike interest in the reader.

♡ Write for different characters! And try writing inserts!

Inserts are when you don’t name any specific character in the story but either give options for what characters your audience can imagine or leave it completely up to them. This works best if you have a nice starter-line that tells you what kind of character this is without naming them.

Examples:

Bruiser boyfriend

Ex-military Yandere

Benevolently sexist boyfriend

Creep Step-bro

You can go further and identity the reader as well:

Big, brawny, chubby-muscled Boss and his perfectly bite-sized assistant

In other words, people like to know what they’re about to read before they start.

Otherwise and lastly:

♡ Something logistic you can have in mind is making your writing accessible. 

Say I like one of your posts, and I click your profile to check you and your other posts out, but all I see when I scroll through your blog is endless reblogs and one-off comments about this and that. My second instinct is to check out your Masterlist. If you don’t have one, my mission is fraught, and I’ll be out of there quickly. If you do have one, but it’s messy, then my patience will wane, and again, I’ll be out post-haste. 

The bottomline is to have a neat pinned post that makes it easy to navigate your blog, with all your relevant stuff easily accessible. Check out mine for reference. But the most important is for it to include your rules, how to request, and your masterlists.

Then, of course, this is obvious, but:

♡ Things take time

I’ve been running @yanderenightmare since 2020. Back then, it took me half a year to get my first 1000 followers. And most of my posts would only get about 500 or so likes. And, that’s another thing—if I was doing it for the likes and follows I probably wouldn’t still be here, so make sure you enjoy what you’re writing and stuff. If you have that conviction, then the rest is just a nice bonus.

[hoshiszora-archived]

[neige-leblanche]

idk i do need to think more abt how ppls personal experiences interact w their Fandom Behaviors esp now that im less caught up in a specific fandom that was rlly bad about that lol

[twistmusings]

I have finally found my audience and it's feral Jade Stans /gen

[featureenvyproductions]

"Why does everything need to be Gay now it's so shallow to make men attracted to each other when they could be Pure Platonic Friends -"

oops sorry I can't hear you over the sound of me Doing What I Want Forever because I have been watching movies, TV, and animation since the 80s and have watched enough shallow heterosexual romances that would have been stronger as mlm-wlw solidarity friendships to fill the space between stars in a galaxy

[exoexid]

the suyeol lore is so crazy

[smallhatlogan]

Been reading Gideon the Ninth all "I really like this Magnus guy, he's absolutely gonna die" lmao

[hua-fei-hua]

through a series of Wacky Hijinks(tm), i ended up on a livejournal post where someone basically details LiveJournal Social Etiquette (holy grail. to me), and it's actually really interesting to see just how much the concept of tumblr as like, a communal social space, and our modern ideas of "mutual"-hood, and just like, the deeply community-oriented netview (worldview but regarding the internet) of this website seems to echo the environment of lj in its heyday.

like, i've been doing research abt lj out of personal curiosity for quite a while now (if any of you were there, gandalf, pls tell me abt it), and at first it just seemed like such a foreign concept to me. what were the social rules? how did people congregate? how did they form, like, their webs?

but the more i uncover via (not-asking-people-directly-because-if-i-initiate-social-interaction-i-will-wither-into-a-prune) general internet spelunking, the more i've come to realize that like many aspects of humanity, the more things change, the more they will also remain the same. and i just think that's so terribly endearing

[bpdanakins]

it really does suck a little to see the severe likes-to-reblogs ratio that happens so often on people’s work like i get for my edits they’re either niche or mediocre and i get that going in but if it still bothers me a bit then i can only imagine how frustrating and hurtful it is for people who genuinely want and need the engagement, who are genuine artists and creators.

like, seriously, is it THAT hard just to hit the reblog button? it’s literally right next to the like one. and i get that people like mobile tumblr more now (for some batty reason), but it still doesn’t take much effort. just two taps. so?? just reblog people’s work if you actually like it, bc we all know you’re not liking it to keep it on hand to interact with later.

it just kinda feels 😕

[noxtivagus]

i'll read more from now on again

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[mickey-gomez]

chapter 11 pleaseeeeeee 🙏🙏🙏

Does anyone actually read them? 'Cause every time I post they get hardly any notes, and half of the taglist doesn't even interact. Kinda just feels like I'm writing and posting for me atm.

[loverboydotcom]

also waking up realising I posted an excerpt that I didn’t really want to post in hindsight but it’s okay bc this sites algorithm is so fucking bad barely anyone saw it 👍