by which I mean

3

have some vintage lesbian swing dancing

Okay but my #hottake on the Fyre Festival thing is…….. how much clearer can it be that the music festival phenomenon has absolutely nothing to do with experiencing live music and everything to do with projecting a certain (affluent, trendy, eminently instagrammable) image of yourself? This “festival” still had “TBD” spots on their lineup on the day it was supposed to start! Some of the headliners had dropped out because it was such a mess! And yet they still managed to convince a bunch of rich instagram kids to fly out to this island on the off chance they would get to take a selfie with a supermodel lmao.

And I don’t think this phenomenon is limited to this clusterfuck of a festival either. Having lived in southern California for four years I’d estimate that upwards of 80% of the people who shell out hundreds of dollars to traipse around in Indio for a weekend are more interested in their outfits and the slim chance they’ll get a glimpse of Kendylie Jenner than the music. All these festivals are livestreamed nowadays; if you’re mostly in it for the music you might as well listen at home and not drive 100+ miles just to risk a lung infection and heatstroke from camping in the desert for three days lol. You do it to be able to say you were there, and to project a certain aesthetic on social media, and because you wanna breathe the same air as some famous people, not because you’re into the music.

4

“Welcome to Blue Lion!”

Tho there are already million bakery AUs, I too had to make one where Keith is a tired college student™ who stumbles into an old but cozy bakery/cafe and meets the bubbly baker~

Also this was the first time I created the setting on Sims 4 and used it as base bg. Much more easier than building on Google SketchUp :’)

anonymous asked:

If one hypothetically wanted to read your Eldritch Abomination Garfield fic, how would one go about finding it as directly searching for 'garfield' hypothetically does not include the fic?

“They bought it?” Lyman asked as Jon hung up the phone.

“I got the contract,” Jon confirmed, dazed. “I’m — I’m syndicated.”

“You did it, man!” Lyman said, clapping him on the back. Odie barked.

“They’re already thinking about merchandising deals,” Jon continued, staring into space.

“I told you things were going to turn around for you,” Lyman said with a nod. Odie continued barking, making it clear that he was not just trying to be supportive. “Hey, look, I’ve gotta take the dog for a walk. If the alarm goes off while I’m gone, can you take dinner out of the oven?”

“Yeah,” Jon said, with no real conception of what he was agreeing to. He still had not yet finished processing that phone call, the idea that he was going to be paid, consistently, that he was a working cartoonist, that his comics would be in papers. Merchandising deals. Merchandising.

It was not until he heard the door that Jon realized he was alone in the apartment.

Just him, and Garfield.

From the corner, it growled.

Jon’s heart spasmed; he hadn’t realized it was in the same room. “H—hey,” he said. It would have been a dumb thing to say if it was a normal cat. It was a dumber thing to say under the circumstances. Its eyes glowed red in the shadows. “How are you?” he asked, then winced as the cat growled again. “Heard the good news?” he asked weakly.

MY END OF THE CONTRACT HAS BEEN FULFILLED

It rumbled through his brain like an earthquake, words without words. He covered his ears even though it wouldn’t help. “Yeah, thanks for—”

I WILL FEED

Jon’s heart spasmed again, overwhelmed with the sense of a hunger not his own. “Right, about that—”

YOU WILL FEED ME it said, words written in blood, thick and hot.

“—yes, I got that, I’m just not really sure what I’m supposed to—”

MEAT and the word throbbed, tore.

“Would chicken be okay?”

UNACCEPTABLE it said in broken bone and jellied marrow.

“I don’t want to stereotype you by assuming you want to eat my roommate—”

YES GIVE ME HIS HEART it said, pulsing, torn flesh.

“—but you can’t eat Lyman.”

I͇̤͜ ̭̩W̨͕̪̠͙I̧̫͍͕̤̥̥̥L̜̜̭͔̪͢L̡͉͍͍͓̣ ͇F̤̜E̤̱̼̩͙̺͢E̥̳̫D̯͚̰ͅ

The glowing eyes moved from the shadows, grew larger, taller. Hellfire, if fire could cast dark instead of light, orange and red, fire and blood. The indistinct shape that might have been a cat became an indistinct shape that might have been a man, large, always large. Jon shrank back as it stretched to fill the room, tried not to look directly at it. Hot breath and sharp teeth against his skin, even though it couldn’t have been, because he was still wearing his jacket.

There was a chiming sound.

WHAT WAS THAT

“Uh.” Jon swallowed, hard. “Dinner?”

FOOD

“Yes,” Jon said, “but I don’t know if you can eat people food…”

Garfield sat in the middle of the floor, wide as it was tall. Its gaze was baleful.

“Right. You can eat whatever you want.” Slowly Jon inched around the cat to head toward the kitchen. “I don’t really know what it is, though. It might be… vegan.”

Garfield hissed, the sound of pain, and Jon fled toward the oven.

I SMELL MEAT

Jon stopped himself from telling the cat get off the counter. “I think it’s a casserole,” he said, removing the dish to set it on the stove. He gingerly removed the lid, his hands safely wrapped in oven mitts. “Oh. It’s lasagna.”

GIVE IT TO ME

“It has to cool,” Jon said. Garfield hissed again, and the sound turned Jon’s blood to fiberglass. He backed away, and the cat leapt bodily and entirely into the baked pasta. It did not seem bothered by the fact that the pasta sauce was still bubbling, and Jon tried not to look at the void of its mouth. A black hole rimmed with fangs, an absence of all light, drawing in all that it touched to disappear within.

WHAT IS THIS it asked, and a hellfire paw batted at a stretchy piece of mozzarella.

“… cheese?”

The cat-shaped thing nodded, still sitting in the dish of lasagna.

WE DO NOT HAVE THIS

“You don’t have cheese in hell?”

It nodded again.

“I guess that’s what makes it hell.” If Garfield appreciated this observation, it did not show it. It cracked open its maw again, more lasagna disappearing, and Jon looked away. “That lasagna was supposed to feed us for a week,” he sighed. “How much longer do I need to do this?” he asked.

UNTIL YOU ARE SATISFIED

“Until I’m satisfied?”

YOU MUST FEED ME TO SATISFY YOUR HUNGER

Realization dawned. “Wait, but — I thought this was a one-time thing.”

IT WAS NOT

“If you leave, I get fired?”

PERHAPS

“So I might still be able to make it on my own.”

DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR SKILL IS ENOUGH TO BRING YOU ALL THAT YOU DESIRE

Jon thought of the portfolio sitting in his room, and sagged. “… no.”

It grew, limbs stretching, claws turning to fingers and then claws again. It sat on the counter like a solid mirage, licking red from its hands.

YOU WILL HAVE RICHES BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS it said in truffle oil and fur and gold. SO LONG AS I AM FED YOU WILL NEVER KNOW HUNGER

Syndication and merchandising deals and maybe someday a cartoon on television. His signature in every newspaper in every house in the country. In the world, even. He raked his fingers through his curls and tried not to look at its claws.

“I guess I’m stuck with you, then,” Jon said.

It didn’t slide off the counter the way a man would, shifted off like drifting smoke or licking flames, stood and was no shorter. Tall and broad and solid, a weight to its presence as it moved closer. Jon shrank back again as it loomed, and this show of submission seemed to please it. Hot breath and sharp teeth against his skin again, and he shivered.

YES YOU ARE



So I just saw [this post] on my dash and wanted to add on but the post was already super long so. Here are some things I’ve learned from about a decade of martial arts (both practicing, competing, and teaching) that might be useful for writers:

  • If your character practices martial arts at a school, know that every school will teach that particular style a little differently. 
  • If your character doesn’t have flexibility/doesn’t stretch. they. will. hurt. themself. trying. to. kick. Even if it’s just waist-high. People who aren’t used to fighting will pull something.
  • People who have been training for a long time will have stronger hands/feet. 
  • Grappling is dirty work. You’re on the ground, you’re grabbing what you can, it’s not as hot as you might think it is.  
  • Holds/grappling/etc. are ingrained reactions. If someone grabs your wrist, reacting immediately is something that is a trained reaction. Same with throwing someone over your shoulder. The steps are practiced again and again and again until they’re gut reactions. 
  • Building off that: even if you’ve trained with a million of these drills, real life is always a little different. You have to be ready to improvise.
  • For the love of all that is holy, karate is not a universal name for martial arts. There are usually modern/sport and traditional versions of martial arts. In my experience, bits and pieces from others will mix together. (for example, I learned a lot of aikido and judo learning self-defense in taekwondo)
  • The effectiveness of the way your character fights can depend a lot on where and how they learned how to fight.
  • This may not be important for writing fight scenes in general, but just as a side note: martial arts have philosophies. If your character is trained in a particular MA, make sure to do research on that philosophy. It might be important to your characterization. 
  • Getting hit hurts. Unless you’ve been fighting for a while and are used to getting hit, you’re gonna be shocked. 
  • The most strategic person is going to lose at least 80% of their thought-process when fighting. The RDJ Sherlock Holmes fight scenes? Where he thinks everything out? Nah man. A lot of fighting is muscle memory & practiced combos. 
  • What I say: I love the 'enemies to lovers' trope
  • What people think I mean: I get off on violence. I think hate sex is the best, don't think healthy and stable relationships are 'interesting' enough, and I purposefully sabotage all my relationships. I frequently ship characters with their abusers and consider dragging someone along and domestic violence 'grey areas' because if you look at context it really just means they love each other.
  • What I actually mean: I love it when two people who hate each other, whether it be seemingly clashing personalities, or actual literal enemies (always enemies who balance each other out. Not 'anti-hero/villain guy constantly harasses heroine girl', but two people who are evenly matched and can hold their own against each other and even in hatred have somewhat respect for the other) who are fighting on opposite sides of a struggle, come together on equal ground and realize that they have more in common than they previously thought. When the two finally join the same side, whether it's due to the redemption of one character or what have you, they may not get along at first, but with time and effort the two eventually find themselves friends with the other. Only *after* they have an established trust and friendship do they then start to have romantic feelings for the other. The 'enemies to lovers' trope does not work if you cannot put 'friend' between the two.
  • People: What's your favourite Beauty and the Beast song? *smiles* Probably "Beauty and the Beast"? Or maybe "Bonjour"? No, I know, it has to be "Be Our Guest"!
  • What I say: Oh, I can't possibly choose, I love them all!
  • Meanwhile, inside my head: SO IT'S TIME TO TAKE SOME ACTION, BOYS, IT'S TIME TO FOLLOW MEEEEEEEEE! THROUGH THE MIST, THROUGH THE WOOD, THROUGH THE DARKNESS AND THE SHADOWS, IT'S A NIGHTMARE BUT IT'S ONE EXCITING RIIIIDE! SAY A PRAYER, THEN WE'RE THERE, AT THE DRAWBRIDGE OF A CASTLE AND THERE'S SOMETHING TRULY TERRIBLE INSIDE!