Hey. You. Trans Girl Who's Had Quite A Bit Of Breast Growth But Feels Insecure Because Of The Way They

So satisfying. Can't wait to see more of that guy's work

I'm stuck in a bit of a pickle at the moment. I've been a little kinda sorta completely fucking gutted by the election results. I feel so utterly saddened for 2SLGBTQIA+ people, BIPOC, women, people with disabilities who now have to live beneath that man's shadow.

Among the sadness is an ache.

An ache to do something. An ache to take action of some kind. I have no idea what kind yet, but I can't stop thinking about it. I am brewing. Do I mean to create something? I don't know yet. I'll figure it out. But I mean to do something.

Community.

I've been reading lately. A book called "How To Think Like A Woman," by Regan Penaluna. The book tells the author's personal memoir, as well as the stories of 4 Early-Modern philosophers (who were women). I'm not a particularly smart person, sometimes I needed to read a paragraph or even a passage multiple times to really 'get it,' but some things stuck with me.

These philosophers were steadfast in their beliefs that women were deserving of education, asylum from abusive husbands, that they shouldn't need to hide their sexuality, that they should be allowed to pursue their intellectual desires just as a man could. But in these demands they each were specific. These freedoms were not meant to enable selfishness in women, as they often did in men. They believed that these freedoms, for all people, also came with the duty to better one's community - to give back. That embracing the people, valuing the people, fostering each individual, would further the community.

This point of community is where I've been stuck all day long. We all need community right now. We need shoulders to cry on, we need friends to laugh with, we need wise folk to tell us what the fuck to do now.

I don't know what I'm going to do - or make - but community needs to be a central theme.

Queerness & Transness.

I also feel like I've created nothing inherently queer. I've abandoned writing for some years now, my projects are old. Older than my realizations about identity. Older than my epiphanies about transness. I want to do something fuckin' gay as hell. I want to pour energy into something that may in some small way counterbalance the hate being screamed into the universe, infecting the pretty space-dust that I wanted to use to highlight my blush. I want to create something that whispers with a forked tongue: "Fuck. You."

Fact or Fiction.

Will it be fact or fiction? Do I want to search for beautiful, real stories to tell and help spread them? Or do I want to create something entirely new? I'm not a documentary producer, but should I be? My heart is in crafting stories, but maybe it's time to set that aside for a while in order to spread true stories that inspire good and justice. Maybe I'd better stick to what I know and make something up.

Abilities // Restrictions.

I am one person. Alone I can write, but that is difficult without an idea. I have the tinder and plenty of firewood, but I need a fucking spark. Once I have the spark I can do more.

I'm a filmmaker, I produce and edit. That's what I enjoy doing best. Not shit I can do without the idea. So for now those sit on the backburner.

I also have a(n admittedly small) rolodex of lovely queer individuals who may also feel a little distraught at the moment. Might be time to meet with them to discuss working on... something?

Budget is zero. Don't know what the project is so right now necessary funds are also zero, which is great. But nobody's getting paid for whatever the fuck comes of this, unless I can be smart.

Ending For Now.

This is all I can bear to write and word-vomit for now. I have been so full of energy and stress thinking about this all day long. I needed to get my thoughts out. If you feel the same ache I do, if there's any way I can help you make your "Fuck. You." project, or if you want to contribute to mine, please DM me and I'll be so happy to discuss and talk.

Please be safe, please be there for your fellow human beings, please be good to each other.

The classic betrayer

This is where everyone subtly knows that this guy's going to turn the other way.

The betrayer puts on a show for our heroes - kind, compassionate and supporting at first.

it just so happens that the villainthinks the heros are the bad guys.

make them actually likable.emotionally ruin the hero upon betrayal.

The remorseful traitor

whether he had bad intentions from the start or was deceived by others, the betrayer regrets his choices.

when he realizes his mistakes, it's too late to stop the evil, which introduces guilt.

throw the guilt and shame on the character.

even the protagonist can be a traitor! will others forgive him?

The Double Agent

this type of traitor will keep the readers wondering whether this guy is truly on your side.

keep your readers guessing. is that an evil smirk or a genuine smile? does he really love drinking, or is he just trying to get the hero drugged?

Snape in Harry Potter is a great example.

The guy can be good or bad - just keep balancing the two

Unrealiable narrators

these characters are not entirely betrayers, but horribly misinformed. they can make others appear like traitors - when in truth, they just have it wrong.

pit your narrow-minded narrator against his allies.

these characters are great for misunderstanding plots.

have your narrator do irreversible damage to the hero. would they forgive him?

Tragic betrayers

these are characters, due to their past wounds and trauma, cannot help but betray the group.

they confess the hero's secrets under physical/mental torment and doesn't have the backbone to do otherwise.

these characters can either be pitiful or frustrating would the hero still fight for the betrayer?

Play around with pov

you can have the readers know about the upcomong betrayal by switching points of view, building up anticipation to the moment of realization.

on the flip side, you can change povs in a way that the reader doens't see what's happening at the hero's back.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

Hello! I've been batting around an idea for a warlock of the undead whose patron is an eldritch Far Realm entity, but haven't been able to find much in the way of official lore for the plane. I would love to hear your take on the subject, if you had any ideas for the landscape and inhabitants and such!

Planescape: The Far Dead Realm(s)

So for those not in the know, the far realm is the d&d cosmology's designated corner for lovecraftian shenanigans, being the default origin of most aberrations as well as anything particularly "madness" related or stuff too weird to fit into the morality based system of planes.

I'm not a big fan of the far ream ( insert joke about me being too weird to fit into the morality based system of planes) because it makes the entry level cosmic-horror fan mistake of conflating tentacles with the unfathomable and paints things beyond human perception as innately hostile and entropic.

To me, the astral sea is the place where all that far-realm weirdness should live, being that its the place where thoughts become physical heedless of any physical constraint. There’d naturally be alien environments that were hostile to life native to the material plane, either in that they were unsuited to conventional biology, or operated on a different set of physics/math/coherence to more traditional reality. That said, it does serve our storymaking to have a bad place from whence things can come from/be banished to, so for that end I'll let you in on my own version of the unknowable plane: The Dead Realms

TLDR: The dead realms are a cosmic junk heap, myriad realities that have become unstable or suffered through an irreparable apocalypse and have inturn scoured or abandoned of mortal life and the gods that oversee them. Seeking to avoid further disruption of the cosmos, the great entities which govern the astral sea quarantine the dead realms in their own fold of space. Cross contamination renders the plane into a simmering cauldron of chaotic energies, as civilization plagues and reality storms crash against eachother with the tomb-prions of world eating gods as backdrop. Any breach of the realms’ containment could lead to potential doom, as anything that can survive the end of multiple worlds is likely more than capable of ending a few on its own.

Ironically, the reason that the asker can’t find lore about the far realm is that its on purpose, and that’s sorta the problem: The far realm was written to be intentionally vague, hearkening to unseen and unknowable horrors of the lovecraft mythos.  The problem with that is that as part of the greater dnd multiverse ( atleast the default one) the far realm is a place you theoretically CAN go, and given that some of the game’s biggest baddies originate there, meaning that there needs to be more about the plane than a simple gesture at it being gross and full of tentacles.

Compare the thematic weight of a party visiting the far and dead realm(s): The former is weird, surely, but other than horrifying chaos, the far realm doesn’t really say anything. On the contrary, both heroes and their players can understand the dead realms as a forewarning of what happens if they fail in their cosmic level responsibilities, and see echoes of their own desperate struggles among the ruins.

Geography:  The process of transposing multiple worlds into a single plane is not a gentle one, even more so when many of those worlds do not share an underlying model of reality. The cracked remnants of planetary bodies float together like asteroid clusters, while flat-earth geographies impose themselves on space at awkward angles like planes of glass, or weave through it like ribbons of a shredded map. Remnant kingdoms are scorched as newly arrived worlds bring their stars with them, and blighted seas spill from one celestial body to the next like wine spilled across a table from a tipped glass.

Its junk drawer architecture, a dumpster into which broken worlds are heaved with no care for their condition or where they might come to rest, slowly ruining eachother like kitchen scraps heaped upon old clothes layered over discarded furniture

Inhabitants: Despite their name the dead realms are not empty, besides the monstrous scavengers Vast wastelands conceal remnant holdouts and the decaying lairs of senile god kings. Only those great authorities of the cosmos decide when a realm is beyond saving, and those left behind on it are considered forfeit to save the greater cosmos from the horrors they endure. That said, there are other entities that live in the maelstrom, and they are far more threat to a wandering party that’ve become stranded in the forbidden realm:

Kaotori*: Once a group of arcane explorers who sought salvage and secrets from the oldest reaches of the dead realms, they were lost in the depths where time itself had begun to rot. They trickled back one by one, transmuted into resin soaked horrors and scattered across the centuries both before and after they left. Stripped of all but a few scraps of their previous identities, the remnants of their former lives knaw at them like the ache of a rotten tooth, which the Kaotori are desperate to extract. Turning their wicked power to the task, each Kaotori combs the cosmos for any trace of its former life, looking to extinguish the source of these memories that it might finally know some twisted form of peace.

Eldrazi*:Like beetles skittering over and through a fallen log until it is mulch, the aberrant broods known as the Eldrazi toil endlessly to return the material of dead worlds back into raw stuff of creation, dismantling matter, magic, and creature alike until all they touch is cosmic dust. Mostly harmless if left at a distance, Eldrazi do not distinguish intruders into their domain from unprocessed worldstuff and their domain extends ever forward so long as their is material to reclaim.

Ancient automata: The engines of forgotten ages still stir on many abandoned worlds, whether they be crystaline consiousness of superhuman intellect or the derlict mechanisms of a single tinkerer

Feral Celestials: while many angels are content to wander from task to task, there are those so dedicated to their divinely ordained mission that they choose to go “down with the ship” when the time comes to ring in the apocalypse. After their particular endtimes have come and gone, these entities slowly begin to waste away, being reduced over time to becoming avatars of strange faiths, or hunting through the wilderness little better than beasts. 

Outergods: Whether  they reign over a destroyed worlds, were imprisoned within one,  or maybe  just like the vibe, the dead realms are full of outergods, which make up the only pantheon for those desperate souls stranded in the expanse. Kronos the cannibal god reigns over lands of dust and ruin, Cezil’Tek holds entire worlds in still and silent loneliness, While Shub-Nuggurath and her brood flourish in toxic swamps and fleshy jungles, just to name a few

* You can find 3rd party stats for these creatures online,

Adventure Hooks:

After falling trough an unstable portal or getting lost fucking around with teleportation, the party find themselves stranded in the dead realms, specifically in a barren desert landscape with a half-buried city built into some wind-scarred cliffs their only landmark. Far off in the distance, amid an alien sky, they can see a massive purple-green cloud approaching, which is in fact a rogue ocean displaced from its original bed that will come crashing down on their desert world in a matter of days. With time running short and an entire city’s worth of secrets to distract them, the party must comb through the ruins for a means of returning home lest they drown along with the desert world.

Following scraps of planear lore and desperate to protect their home from an otherworldy threat, a party of spelljammers must slip past the watch of the celestial authority to salvage pieces of a planetary warding system. This system allowed another world to stave off the threat in the past, but didn't’ stop its original architects from falling prey to the whiles of an outer god and leading their world to doom from within. Now situated among the junk drifts of the dead realms, this fallen world is slowly being eaten away by eldrazi as the last zealots of the outergod look for cruel and desperate ways to stem the tide.

Monstrous aberrations comb the countryside, attacking villages, searching for something, pushing the party into cooperation with a goodnatured  wizard who was exiled from the circle of mages for his curiosity about forbidden magic.  During a moment of heroic sacrifice, the wizard inadvertantly opens a rift to the dead realms and ends up falling through, becoming lost in time and space and eventully transformed into a kaotri... the very same kaotri that has spent centuries combing through the multiverse looking for this particular kingdom. Warped irrevocably and wracked by the pangs of a now recursive present, this Kaotri now seeks to wipe its once home off the map, and just use that recently opened dead-realm portal to do it.

Art

NEED HELP WRITING? (a masterlist)

I have likely not added many that I've reblogged to this list. Please feel free to roam my blog and/or ask/message me to add something you'd like to see on this list!

Synonym Lists

Look by @writers-potion

Descriptors

Voices by @saraswritingtipps

Show, Don't Tell by @lyralit

Tips & Tricks

5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists by @writingwithfolklore

How To (Realistically) Make a Habit of Writing by @byoldervine

Let's Talk About Misdirection by @deception-united

Tips to Improve Character Voice by @tanaor

Stephen King's Top 20 Rules for Writers posted by @toocoolformedschool

Fun Things to Add to a Fight Scene (Hand to Hand Edition) by @illarian-rambling

Questions I Ask My Beta Readers by @burntoutdaydreamer

Skip Google for Research by @s-n-arly

Breaking Writing Rules Right: Don't Write Direct Dialogue by @septemberercfawkes

Databases/Resources

International Clothing

Advice/Uplifting

Too Ashamed of Writing To Write by @writingquestionsanswered

"Said" is Beautiful by @blue-eyed-author

The Spirit Of The Samurai is a 2.5D side-scrolling samurai action horror game where you slay grotesque stop-motion monsters!

Read More & Play The Beta Demo, Free (Steam)

Gameplay Video:

““Congratulations, you’ve successfully commissioned a fursuit.””

— - The DM, narrating our Gunslinger using rainbow giant ape fur to make a fursuit (AND a fur cloak) for the Illrigger.

Cultural Quirks for Fantasy Country 📜

Once a year the community gives the oldest person to the forests as tribute to preserve the community. They then hold a happy festival with the soon-to-be-deceased as the guest of honor

The community believes that the world beyond the towns borders does not exist. It is a dream realm that one can become lost in if you stray too far. Any creatures or people coming from the dreamlands are welcome to pass through but cannot stay.

They believe that all spells to revive the dead must have a dove present while the ritual takes place. The dove carries soul back into the mortal plane and withoutit the wrong soul could find its way into the body. 

Every single home must have a living firefly inside their vase It is said that it’s the only thing protecting the death force from stepping inside their home at night

Lies are punishable by death. As a result of this, down through the years the definition of “lie” has been clouded. Now everyone habitually speaks every through that comes to their mind. 

Hundred of years ago, ther was a plague in the region and the people used a certain type of flower as an amulet against it. Now these flowers are farmed here in spring, made into wreaths and given as gifts. 

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

I had a fucking wonderful conversation with a Director who is a trans woman today.

I originally responded to an ad of hers looking for a transfem video editor for a documentary about trans people, but I was several months late. I specifically responded knowing I may not get the gig, but I wanted to work with her on this project that I felt was so important. It was important to me as a person developing a career in film, it was important to me as a trans girl hoping to engage and give to a community I want to be a part of, it was important that a project get made that could help people like me figure out what the fuck is going on with their identities.

So I waited for a response. Eventually one came. We set up a meeting for this afternoon, and the conversation we had was euphoric. I was so anxious and in my own head about the whole thing, but when it came time to talk, I felt like I was unapologetically myself while talking to her. I didn't need to mask, or change how I behaved for her. I just was. It felt wonderful. I've never had that with another person before, I think.

We talked about film work, trans experience, and MOTHERFUCKING TTRPGs!!!!!!!!! She called me "girl" in conversation and that was butterflies in my tummy. When I mentioned I was only 3 months on HRT she unashamedly and excitedly exclaimed that my chest was going to start hurting soon, and that lack of timidity about the subject was so fucking refreshing.

She mentioned how she enjoyed taking on the role of teaching younger trans people and being motherly. I added that my friends say that I'm the same way, but that I don't really have someone to be that way for me. It was a strange feeling to realize mid-conversation that I may need something like that at all. I never felt like I wanted a motherly force in my life, but maybe as I find myself in femininity that's something I need. My husband can only do so much to help me, and he's not exactly the posterchild for this sort of thing.

Nearing the end of our conversation, she told me to keep in touch and ask any questions if I need. But then she mentioned that we could go to get our nails done together sometime soon (I'd mentioned my experience with hand/nail dysphoria from a few days ago). I shut down. I stared at my screen through to her silently for a moment. I then stuttered, trying to answer. She asked if I was okay and if she overstepped any boundaries. I admitted that I needed a moment to restart my brain. Then I explained that I don't have any feminine friends to do "girl stuff" with. I've never been able to before. The idea excited me beyond belief. I said yes emphatically. I almost started crying a little, to be completely honest.

We said goodbye, and I closed the call.

Im doing a little tiny cry now, I feel so fucking good. I feel so proud of myself for trying for this and sticking with it. Proud of myself for not canceling because of my anxiety. Proud of myself for allowing me to be me unapologetically with absolutely no fabrication for the pleasure or comfort of another person.

Writing this now in bed. No other plans until later tonight. That call took a lot of my energy. Time to rest.

Night night💜

Dungeon: Thousand Ends

“-and so you have sinned” said the pearl-laden emissary as the shutters crashed open and the royal court became a tumult of wind “You have trespassed my realm and plundered foreign lands, making me accessory to your slaughter”. The figure rose, throwing aside their moral guise and those assembled said it was as if the sky itself levelled an accusing finger at the sovereigns. “You sought riches, now you shall pay.”

The remnants of a great treasure fleet scuttled in an act of divine wrath, this palisade of masts and reef of broken keels has been collecting the vessels of the greedy and the wayward ever since. The locals got tired of warning folks about “the cliffs of a thousand ends”, so over time the name was worn away just as the sea has worn away at the surrounding land.

In addition to becoming a home for all manner of sealife that now nests within the shattered ships, a covey of sirens now roosts among the nearby cliffs, their songs carried by the wind to ensorcell the minds of sailors and navigators passing by and draw them off course. ( Blame @5ecardaday for the excellent monster)

Hooks:

Driven below deck by of rain while travelling from one port to another, the party have only a few days to notice that more and more of the crew are acting strangely as they fall prey to the sirens’ enchantment, becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as they each drift off into their own fantasy land. If they don’t figure it out they’ll end up crashing on the rocks and having to fight their way through the periphery of the dungeon and then to shore as the sirens pick off the sailors.

Piled high with the fruit of slave mines and plundered temples, the ships of the treasure fleet carried tribute to fuel an empire across the sea. More than just wealth, there are any number of cultural treasures up and down the coast that the party could return to their rightful owners for great renown. 

Even before they were sundered by the wrath of a seagod, there were damned souls aboard the fleet, the blunt instruments of imperial ambition all too used to bleeding people and entire nations for the sake of feeding the royal coffers. Now they haunt the depths protecting their gold from thieves, bound by greed or fanatical loyalty to a long-fallen crown. Should the party REALLY piss them off, they will band together animating the surrounding dredgewood and perusing them even back to their vessel.

Perhaps the only thing that could dissuade a group of adventurers from seeking out what might be a motherload of sunken treasure would be their inability to breathe underwater

Because this dungeon is so expansive and atypical of layout, consider using my system for running large scale dungeons with an abstract floorplan. It’ll be far easier than trying to map out dozens of vessels above and below the waterline.