I Really Don't Want To Discuss This Issue In Greater Detail, And Plan To Avoid Doing So In The Future,

I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."

I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.

Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.

Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.

Original characters are really just a random assortment of personality traits and physical features taken from myself, from people I saw on the street, and from my favourite characters from other people.

If the Ghost Punch characters got a large sum of money (how much is up to you to interpret) how would they most want to spend it?

Oo fun question!

I cannot stress enough that everyone else would use part of their sum to get Shay a new phone. Several phone chargers. External batteries. The works.

At no point in this endeavor would it even OCCUR to Shay to get HERSELF a new phone.

BUT here we go

Shay - probably a new gaming console Max - a really fancy laptop Duncan - new figurines and books Gideon - swords Jo - a fancy tea set that she has been eyeing for ages Arlo - espresso machine

Thanks for the ask!

Hand kissing is sacred, high romance and I think we need to revive it.

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

I'm planning to go through with this, but your answers to some survey questions will help:

Do you play dating games or have you watched others play dating games?

If so, what options did the game not have that you wanted (personality wise)? (If not, just imagine the type of options you'd want in a dating game.)

If you were satisified with the options, which types did you gravitate towards?

Finally, your favorite object?

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

Oooo this was beautiful!

Here is the first lesson we can learn from the wandering druids: every grove is a sacred grove.

It does not matter if it is an ancient copse nestled in the heart of the forest, or a handful of shrubs sprouting anaemic from the oil-clogged veins of a city.

A garden that springs up on the rooftop of a building by mistake is still needful and worthy of our veneration. It will also need a little more help, since its connection to wider nature is much more tenuous.

An ecosystem cannot exist in isolation after all, so it is the work of those mortals who fractured it to kintsugi the fragments together. It is the work of the leafwalker to *show* the grove how to be sacred.

We see this in the roadside orchards planted by the druid Richmond Crabapple. Turning the highways into snaking green creatures, her trees offer shade to travellers and fruit to the needy. It is easy to remember a thing is sacred, after all, when it so obviously gives you life.

Here is the second lesson: everyone and everything is nature.

We are animals. Our towns and cities are animal habitats. The separation of the urban and the rural is as much a mental one as a physical. It is a mind game we play to give us the illusion of mastery, and to excuse the damage we do.

A good earthspeaker will tell you to listen to those who have stayed in conversation with the world. Those people who know the give and take of blood and bough and mulch. Those peoples who, so often, we have called savage. Those who we looked down on from our towers made of bones.

Listen. Listen and follow, if they will have you and if they will teach you.

We see this in the truce the druid Cambridge Ironweed made with the Skullcluster. This spirit takes the form of a pack of skeletal cats, and was thought to be a genus of demon predator. When Ironweed planted his feet in the dirt offered them his throat, he made himself a conversation between two worlds that should always have been one.

Now everyone in its domain lives with a skeletal cat. They know that, one day, they will die and it will eat the flesh from their bones. This is how their flesh and spirit will return to the earth.

Remember Ironwood's dying words: “Oh, you think we are special because we have souls? Here, let me show you how widely the river of the anima flows…”

Here is the third lesson: we tend that which we would see flourish.

If you would see people fed, grow food. If you would see forests thrive, tend trees. If you would see the a community safe from predators, grow thorns.

But never forget that anything that cures can also kill. Crops can choke a landscape and a sick landscape kills its creatures. A forest grown thick is fuel for wildfires. A town that is safe can forget it is part of a wider world and turn thorns into spears.

We see this in the work of the druid and rootweaver Devonport Blackwood.

The many buildings created by Blackwood are things of beauty not because of their aesthetic, but due to their function. In the towns and cities Blackwood traveled, they planted webs of needroot beneath the foundations. Needroot is weed-like in its dormant form, a wispy white root happy to live in pavement cracks and kiss the boots of commuters.

But if you need shelter? If you are desperate and vulnerable and cry your needs out like burnt offerings to the heavens? Well, if the heavens don't need you, the needroot will.

The structures it builds are strange things, bulbous and pale. They use whatever materials are to hand. They claim whatever space is unused (though not necessarily unowned). They look like nests built out of discarded tarmac, copper and mycelial strands - a mix of turnip-pale rubbery organic matter and urban detritus. As if someone had reconstructed the mythic roc from mushrooms and given it a building permit.

Everyone who needs a home in these places has one. This is the need Blackwood sought to tend.

But, because local landlords were rarely happy about this, they also left a twist in the tale.

So the needroot also provides every settlement with a communal poison garden. They are lush, lovely and deadly.

After all, many natural things need teeth to flourish.

---

This particular story was inspired by this post about druids, which y'all should read.

Enjoy my stories and want to support my work? I'm currently fundraising for my live show. Check it out here: https://igg.me/at/poorlifechoices/x/8175219

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.

Oooo omg this is so interesting! Your descriptions are so vivid and beautiful. I was entranced the whole time. I could just picture the world in my head, and the ending had me so intrigued. Also, this is one of my favorite types of plots as a trans man.

Some fantasy thing I am fiddling with

She made the decision that from this day forward, she would no longer be Astrid, a peasant girl of unremarkable stock with no discernible direction. Now she’d go by Aegir, the name of her cousin who had passed from the sweating sickness many moons ago. Father’s work as a farrier kept him busy with the horses, mules, and donkeys of traders, merchants, and lower-tier nobles that kept their manors and homes close to Lykkested, the capital of Álfarune the northernmost province of the kingdom of Upplond, and the family’s name had spread far enough for those to know his high-quality work. Whilst Mother worked to help the village women watch the children and brew the mead and dark, stout ale that the village had become known for. All the while, Astrid desired to join King Ragnar’s court as a page and then a knight—a path forbidden to her.

Skinny but strong, a girl on the cusp of womanhood who lacked the curves that defined her gender at this age. Much for the better, in her opinion. Astrid wore a close-fitting under-tunic against her lean chest, with another tunic over it to hide even further. A sharp, chilly wind, smelled of brine and distant adventures, whipped off the Rømskog Sea that ruffled her reddish-brown hair—cropped short beneath the pointed ears of her people, and she even pierced the left tip with a sharp needle and kept an iron ring it, a boyish fashion and something her parents were against but did not stop their strong-willed girl.

That day, with her mind made up, Astrid—now Aegir—announced that she was her lost cousin, at least to those who did not personally know her or her family, who did not pass away but only took some time to heal from the sweating sickness. Arming herself with an iron short-sword shoved into a sheepskin sheath gave her the look of a young boy just before the age of training and education.

Despite the chill of fall on the back of the strong wind, the warming sun still proclaimed itself as summer, even if late in the season. Astrid sat on the low stone wall that surrounded her father’s tiny parcel of land, his hammer still going, even this late in the day. The land of the Álfarune was as breathtakingly beautiful and hauntingly dangerous as its people, that she felt herself proud to come from. From the sapphire-colored, icy waters to the jagged granite peaks, worn smooth by countless ages of wind and snow, that pierced the sky and were called the Backbone of the World. To the deep woods, filled with both the mundane and the magical. Their ancient trees, gnarled from the ages, twisted like arthritic fingers; their shadows cast long on those who sought to be under the shelter of their leaves. Just past the outskirts of the hamlet were fields full of ripening barley, millet, and other hardy crops that could survive and grow in the brief summers, a familiar sight that acted as a balm to soothe the anxiety in her stomach. And even now, it helped bolster her decision to leave the hamlet for Blomma Castle, and under the darkness of nighttime.

After the successful escape from her parents’ hut as they slept, Astrid took a deep breath of the sweet summer night air—honeysuckle, juniper berries, and the ever-present damp earth—a deep, cleaning breath, the first of many as she pursued her dreams, which did not include an arraigned marriage to Jozef. Her slightly-upturned nose crinkled in disgust at the mere thought of it. With no time to waste, she took off toward the western road; the ocean was a shimmering silver under the full moon. Leaving the village required careful steps; a bit of luck, and no patrolling guards or their echoing steps behind her, as she escaped from the outskirts.

The worn leather of her fur-fringed satchel creaked as Astrid adjusted the strap, its weight a familiar ache across her chest. A night-hawk cried overhead; its sharp call sliced through the subdued hum of the wind that rustled through tall sea-grasses. A shiver, born of the chilly wind and of apprehension, traced its path down her spine; she was young, undeniably so, and despite looking like a boy, was very much a tempting target in these lands, however safe they might be.

High in the inky sky, the moon, a pearl about to dip below the horizon, cast long shadows like darkened fingers. Between the trees, a faint, flickering light shone through—a tiny, defiant flame against the vast, dark forest. The crisp night air allowed the aroma of wood-smoke to linger, which mingled with the rich, savory aroma of roasting meat; her stomach growled, a low rumble against the evening. Who, she wondered, was cooking at this late hour?

****

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