Signed Hardcover Giveaway!

eci.ec.europa.eu

European Citizens' Initiative

Give your support !

EVERYONE(!) I’m blazing this post because at this pace we might barely hit 1,000,000 signatures—or just fall short. PLEASE reblog this post, no matter where you are from, so we can reach as many EU citizens as possible and end this horrible practice!

I need your opinions on what story to work on next!

Choice A: Chel's story [unnamed atm]. She's a Hunter that fights demons with holy water guns and salt filled hula-hoops while skating on inline skates and playing AC/DC on one side of the tape in her walkman, and exorcisms on the other side of the tape. Chel's lover is possessing her pet marmoset that she named after him after they saved it together, but it turns out that her lover was a nephilim who lost his physical form temporarily and he can't reform until she figures out that she needs to erase the sigils blocking him from doing so that's carved into her walls to protect her from various mythological creatures from entering her home. She later becomes an Archivist and a central hub of information for Hunters all over the country.

Choice B: [unnamed atm] The story of the school with animal familiars (basically when you hit puberty, you get the ability to speak to a specific type of animal - crows, house cats, horses, etc.) and there's this guy that can talk to house cats and his dad can talk to horses, a girl that talks to ravens, and the school is divided into prey and predators. The girl with the ravens ends up with a network of spies through the city because the ravens see everything and report back to her.

Choice C: The Blind Piano Player Girl [aka Tea and Treason] who is shipped off to her uncle's house (he's a general in the American army during the war for independence) and her father was a composer that was secretly making codes in his music and teaching them to his daughter. Everyone thought he was just a failed musician because his music sucked ass, but when you decipher it, it's plans he smuggled from the British side of the lines and only she has the key. But she's blind and everyone think's she's useless. She ends up being able to smell when people are smuggling things they aren't supposed to (like drugs in the tea to poison people in charge) and can trace it back to who touched it because they have it on their hands. Her uncle uses her to turn the tide of the war.

Btw, I am in the process of making a more detailed survey for this.

Speaking of, tempted to make a community myself, but since I have a variety of unconnected works, I have no idea what that would be a community for. Kind of reminds me of the idea I had to try and get myself posting again, mainly making like, a sort of dating sim kind of group of characters to play around with.

Y'all want me to make object head people for you to kiss? SFUIHSFU

Heads up to everyone in the states! KOSA has been reintroduced along with some absolutely fucked buddies called the SCREEN act and the "interstate obscenity act". these are censorship bans that want to strip the internet of EVERYTHING that is offensive to the most insufferable person you have the misfortune to know. we NEED to be calling our reps so much that the staffers know us and get annoyed when they pick up the phone if we don't want to see the most sanitized version of the internet

Hi peeps! As I work on Every Hero Needs a Villain, do y'all want me to make the community for it so you can see some funny behind the scenes stuff and potentially certain bios as I make them? You can also make suggestions for stuff there if you want. Trying to encourage myself to complete them.

Tag list: @aweirdshipp, @floofyboi57, @aralithmenathere

Me writing Every Hero Needs a Villain like "maybe this is too self indulgent" and encouraging myself to sprinkle in even more self indulgence everytime I think that.

Me going to tell my fandom (my Tumblr followers) lore about my oc that will shatter their hearts (I will get 2 notes)

Ooo I loved this! It gave me the chills. It felt so visual to, I could just visualize each scene.

— An extra-narrative writing exercise based on my work, The Taste of Hallowed Earth

Chapter 4 - The Protest.

The next morning, Jesse woke with a groan, the dull ache in her shoulder a solemn reminder of the danger she put herself into last night.

She looked over at Lira, who was still sitting with her knees to her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her. Guilt? Sadness? Love? Right now it was all too hard to parse over the pain.

“Hey, you wake yet?” Jesse asked, her voice hoarse from the ragged breaths she took.

“Yeah…” Lira yawned out, her gaze slowly lifting from the single tile on the floor she had been looking at all night, her eyelids drooping.

“…You didn’t sleep, huh?” Jesse’s voice was oozing for concern with her friend.

“Is it that obvious?” Lira whispered, a soft chuckle escaping her lips momentarily.

“Well…normally you look like a flame roaring to life when you wake up, but now you look like a raccoon,” Jesse said, a small smirk playing across her lips as she gestured toward her own eyes.

Suddenly, something on the TV caught their attention.

“Last night in Serath, protests broke out regarding…”

They both tuned out the broadcast, locking eyes.

Jesse spoke first, voice quiet with disbelief. “We… We started something, didn’t we? With our art?”

Lira nodded, her voice a hushed whisper. “Yeah… we did. Wish I’d finished mine, though.” She chuckled softly, her hands sliding from her knees to the floor as she pushed herself upright.

Jesse tried to stand too, wincing with every movement.

Lira laughed and smirked, stepping over to catch her before she could fall. “Careful, soldier. Don’t go hurting yourself now.”

Jesse couldn’t help but giggle, rolling her eyes.

The TV faded back into their awareness. “For those of you looking to stay safe, we recommend avoiding Duskline Avenue…”

“Let me guess… you wanna go there today, huh?” Jesse smiled, stretching out her stiff limbs. “Safety’s never been your thing.”

Lira huffed, smirking. “Guess you can read me like a book.”

“Not hard to do when I’m used to tagging along on all your little missions, Lira.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Lira chuckled, brushing off the tease. “C’mon, let’s get you ready.”

As Lira helped Jesse pull on her jacket from the night before, she couldn’t help but notice something. Jesse was still wearing the gloves from their run-in with Vance.

“You really like those gloves, huh?” Lira teased.

Jesse did her best to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. “So what if I do? They’re comfy!”

Lira chuckled, shaking her head. “Nothing wrong with liking the gloves you used to beat your first debt collector.”

The heat on Jesse’s face grew, and she quickly turned away, tugging the jacket on the rest of the way. For once, she was completely speechless — not from the hollow ache she knew too well, but from the sudden, fragile warmth blooming in her chest.

Satisfied, Lira smirked and tapped Jesse’s shoulder. “Time to go, soldier.”

Jesse took a deep breath, nodded, and smiled softly before leading the way out.

They wound their way through the maze of backstreets and alleyways, careful to avoid prying eyes. Eventually, they found themselves at the center of an enormous protest—voices bounced off the monolithic buildings towering over Duskline Avenue.

One message cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade: “RELEASE THE FILES. SHOW THE TRUTH.”

The chant thundered across the avenue, a living, breathing thing.

Lira joined in first, shouting with her whole chest. Jesse quickly followed, her voice softer but no less determined. “RELEASE THE FILES. SHOW THE TRUTH.”

Lira climbed onto the roof of a battered car, raising her firsts and leading the chant, fully caught in the moment. Jesse stayed close, feet on the ground, her presence quieter but no less vital.

The sight of it all—the passion, the sheer mass of people—moved Jesse in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Her simple little tag had helped spark this. It felt unreal, overwhelming…but she couldn’t stop herself from chanting alongside the crowd.

Their voices grew hoarse, lost in the sound and the safety of the numbers around them—the unwitting masses never realizing their two ghost leaders stood right there among them.

Eventually, the crowd began to die down—until a single gunshot cracked through the air, slicing past a wall of bodies and slamming into the hood of the car Lira was standing on with a sickening crunch.

Screams erupted in an instant. Panic spread like a wildfire. Lira leapt from the car just as another shot hit the metal frame behind her, sending the crowd into full-blown chaos. People pushed and stumbled, nearly trampling one another in their rush to escape.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Lira shouted, eyes darting across the windows of the far buildings as she searched for the source.

Then—another shot. This one shattered the side of the car near her landing point.

Before Jesse could react, Lira grabbed her hand and yanked her toward a nearby pillar. She’d seen it: the telltale flash of glass. A scope. They weren’t aiming to kill yet. Just playing with them. But they knew where they were.

A third shot slammed into the pillar with a sharp thud.

Then silence.

Too quiet.

Where had the protestors gone? Were they hiding? Watching? Had they scattered completely?

Questions raced through Lira’s mind, but she pushed them down. No time. Can’t look. That sniper’s still watching.

A soft crack—a new gunshot, muffled this time. Silenced. A warning. Either the sniper had changed tactics, or there were two.

Jesse’s fingers began to tap a quiet rhythm on her thigh, the one she always fell into when the fear crept too close. Her eyes scanned the nearby doors, the pillars, the shadows. Can’t go down the street. Shots were too low. They’ll have it covered. Need an alley. Something tight.

Lira stayed still, her breathing shallow, eyes flicking between possible exits.

Then her thoughts turned, as they always did, toward Jesse.

If I give myself up… would they let her go?

She clenched her jaw. No. No, don’t think like that. We get out. Together.

Jesse tore one glove off and lobbed it around the corner of the pillar. Two shots rang out—simultaneous. The glove shredded mid-air.

Shit. Two of them. Her thoughts raced, calculating.

Bolt action? Maybe. Could give us a second to run for an alley. But I can’t keep tossing things and hoping they reload.

Her rhythm picked up—fingers tapping frantically now—as her eyes met Lira’s.

Without hesitation, Lira pulled Jesse into her chest, shielding her. Every muscle in her body coiled. Then she moved—scooping Jesse up like she weighed nothing and sprinting toward the next concrete cover.

They almost made it.

Two more shots ripped through either side of Jesse’s jacket, far too close for comfort—too precise.

Lira’s instincts screamed. She pivoted sharply, the sunlight catching a puddle in the alley just ahead. She veered toward it, taking a hard turn just as two more bullets slammed into the corner where they’d been just milliseconds before.

Don’t stop. Not yet. Too close. Her legs burned, lungs heaving, but she pushed through it all—darting between shadows, diving behind dumpsters, weaving through tight alleyways.

Only once they broke into a crowded market, loud and alive, did she slow. She set Jesse down in front of her, breath ragged.

“You okay?” she asked, scanning her friend for blood.

Jesse winced, taking a deep breath to calm the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “No more hurt than I was this morning…unless you count sentimental damage.”

Lira let out an exasperated sigh and wrapped her arms around Jesse, holding her tightly, as if sheer force could keep her safe. “Thank god… I don’t know what I’d do if I let you get hurt again.”

Jesse smiled softly at her words, unspoken words and emotion curling at the corners of her lips.

The market buzzed around them—a wash of voices, bartering, footsteps, and laughter. After the gunfire and hollow silence, the sound of normal life was almost surreal. Comforting in its chaos.

“Was it a setup?” Jesse asked, her voice low.

Lira’s stomach tightened. It was the only thing that made sense. “We can’t be sure just yet.” She knew she was lying, but it was better than facing the truth.

Jesse nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah…but if it was a setup, they gave us a way out. Almost like they didn’t want us dead. Like it was a test.”

They began moving, weaving through the crowd. Lira leaned in closer, her voice almost drowned in the noise. “And if they wanted us there, who knows how many of those protestors were agents?”

Jesse went quiet, her shoulders tensing slightly beneath the ripped jacket.

Just as they were relaxing slightly, a voice cut through the noise of the merchants behind them.

“You two made quite the mess back there.”

They spun around. A woman stood half-shadowed beneath the canopy of a market stall, fingers tucked into her coat pockets. She looked calm—too calm for someone who’d supposedly just walked out of a sniper ambush.

Jesse instinctively stepped back, her body still wired from adrenaline. Lira moved in front of her without thinking.

“We don’t know you,” Lira said flatly.

“You don’t need to.” The woman glanced up, letting them catch a brief glimpse of her face. She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe someone who’d been part of the protest. Or the building. “But I know you.”

Jesse tensed.

The woman continued, her voice just above the murmur of the crowd. “You weren’t the only ones painting last night. But you were the loudest. Most visible. And now? People are listening.”

She paused, looking at Lira. “They’ll come again. Louder next time. You need to be somewhere safe.”

“And let me guess,” Lira said with a bitter smirk, “you just so happen to know a place?”

“I know the place.”

The woman turned and started walking away without another word. Lira hesitated. Jesse touched her arm.

“I think we should hear her out.” Jesse’s voice was soft and meek, like a mouse.

Lira didn’t move, eyes narrowed. “It could be a trap.”

Jesse exhaled. “Maybe. But we’re running out of alleys and markets to hide in.”

Lira hesitantly nodded, knowing their safety was limited if they stayed on the run.

With that, the two women followed this new anomaly of a woman.

Why "No One Talks Like That" Is Unhelpful

I've been thinking about some unhelpful critiques I have been given in the past and what made them so unhelpful, which lead me to sort of wanting to deconstruct why "no one talks like that" is such a bad critique.

So, things to consider before you give the critique "no one talks like that", which will likely reveal what you're actually trying to say:

Conversational conventions are often different in fictional worlds.

Just because something is normally "uncouth" or "strange" to say in reality, that does not mean the same can be said about fictional worlds. I personally got the "no one talks like that" critique because one of my characters was, supposedly, too blunt about their marriage proposal. This was in a fantasy world where marriage was treated in an extremely practical fashion, the same way someone would treat buying a new house. I got treated as the "person who constantly interrupts people giving critiques because they can't handle it" for simply trying to give my teacher some much needed context. This type of critique is not helpful to anyone, because it completely fails to understand or even attempt to understand author intent. "No one in real life talks like this", yes, and that is the point. To actually give helpful critiques to fantasy dialogue, you need to first understand how that fantasy culture differs from the ones you are accustomed to, and judge the dialogue based on it.

2. When you say "no one talks like that", who are you really referring to? The general population, or the people specifically within your social circle, area, or culture? Because you will likely find it is the latter.

I don't think it's necessarily bad for people to draw from their experiences when giving critiques, but I do think it's important to analyze one's biases in doing so. Before you say, "no one talks like that", always sit down to analyze why exactly you think that, and consider having a proper discussion with the writer about what experiences they are drawing from. As one examples, a straight person who is unfamiliar with queer culture may feel inclined to say "no one talks like that" about queer characters using terms or addressing topics like gender, sexuality, etc. in ways they are not accustomed to. It's not because no one truly talks like that, it's because they are completely unfamiliar with it.

3. Always, always, always consider context.

This ties into the fictional world idea, but goes beyond that. "No one talks like that" can feel extremely tone deaf as a critique if the person isn't properly engaging with the context of a scene or a character. "No one talks like that," okay, but this particular character is stressed and running on adrenaline, they're not exactly meant to be talking normally. "No one talks like that," this is a literal demon from Hell, why should they talk like we do? "No one talks like that," this character is neurodivergent, and it makes complete sense for them to talk like that. Also, keep in mind the genre and the style of the story. Not all stories are trying to have realistic dialogue. You wouldn't criticize a story set in wonderland for having unrealistic dialogue, as this is very much the point. Now, unrealistic does not mean meaningless, which is why considering the context of a story helps you give more specific and helpful critiques when it comes to dialogue.

4. Does nobody talk like that, or is it just socially unacceptable to talk like that? There is a difference.

I mentioned neurodivergent characters, so let me expand on that issue here. There's this attitude I think really needs to be squashed that characters must talk in a neurotypical fashion or else they are badly written, because neurotypical individuals find this easier to understand and see it as more "proper". And it expands to this general attitude I've seen that, if characters are not following certain social rules or etiquette, then the dialogue is badly written. This puts so many constraints on character dialogue that doesn't actually help with character writing.

Sure, not everyone is going to go out to a parking lot and scream profanities to see the shock and horror of those passing by, but this shit stain character I created absolutely would. "But characters need a good reason to break this etiquette", not everyone cares about social etiquette, and characters are absolutely the same way. So long as their character has been established as such, this is fine. Also, reactionary responses like, "no one would talk to their parents that way!", in response to a character severly breaking a social rule or greatly going against a certain social value, are not actually helpful critiques. It is an emotional reaction that reflects what you view as proper, not if the action is accurate to the character or not.

5. Is it true that nobody talks like that, or do you just not understand the dialogue?

If dialogue is confusing, you need to delve deeper into why that is, and consider whether this is intentional or not. Just because the dialogue does not personally resignate with you, that does not mean it is poorly written. Same goes for dialogue that is meant to be confusing at first, and is given further context later. Have a conversation with the writer to see if this dialogue is meant to be confusing, or if there's been a miscommunication. It's also important you reflect on whether a project is for you when critiquing. If you hate dialogue full of rhymes, then you probably shouldn't critique a story where everyone talks in rhymes.

6. Is the issue the way they are talking, or the way they are talking about something in the specific context of the story?

When analyzing why dialogue doesn't sit well with you, is it because the characters' reactions feel off or out of character? For instance, is the character that is well established to hate sweets now ranting and raving about how good milk chocolate is? The issue then isn't that "no one talks like that", the issue is, "it feels out of character for them to address (topic) like that". Yes, it could be argued no one hates sweets one second and then praises milk chocolate the next, but phrasing it as "no one talks like that" doesn't actually get to the meat of the issue. As a more serious example, is the character who hates all magic being oddly casual when actually confronted with a mage? Of course, some inconsistencies are done on purpose, and, as I said above, context matters.

Conclusion

Going through this, I think a lot of people will find "no on talks like that" is not actually what they want to say. Rather, they likely want more context, think a conversation needs better build up, believe the dialogue feels inconsistent with the characters/world, or may outright just be a bad fit for that particular project. So before you say, "no one talks like that," consider why you feel that way and find a way to word this critique that is more productive.