So Hyped For Inktober This Year Even Tho Ill Probably Give Up Halfway Through Like Every Fuckin Year

I knew having Redditors cross-train on Tumblr would produce weird fucking magic.

Sundry Sunday

I'm beginning to realize how many of these Sundry Sunday posts are just me chatting about vocab words that I looked up because they're a little unfamiliar, even when the make sense in context.

What is an ague?

An acute or high fever, or a disease characterized by one, especially when its reoccuring. (Thanks OED) Think malaria, apparently.

Oupires

Just a reminder that you can basically read this as "vampire". Oupire is more of a Slavic-folklore specific term, and is the origin of the english word vampire. Also, upior is the term to search if you'd like to do some reading. Some of the remedies have proved especially interesting to me. If you can read Polish, there's also a book titled Upiór that is supposedly a very good work on the subject. Unfortunately, I do not know a bit of Polish and cannot find it in any language I have any degree of confidence in.

[...] I am undone without you.

ig: d.ill.usion

in honor of black history month 2025, i’ve put together a list of books written by black sapphic authors for you to read in the month of february

non-fiction essays/memoirs:

all about love: new visions by bell hooks

black lesbian in white america by anita cornwell

sister outsider: essays and speeches by audre lorde

mouths of rain: an anthology of black lesbian thought by briona simone jones

blues legacies and black feminism by angela davis

does your mama know?: an anthology of black lesbian coming out stories by lisa c. moore

fiction:

the color purple by alice walker

loving her by ann allen shockley

the gilda stories by jewelle gomez

in another place, not here by dionne brand

pomegranate by helen elaine lee

the summer we got free by mia mckenzie

these letters end in tears by musih tedji xaviere

dead in long beach, california by venita blackburn

young adult:

honey girl by morgan rogers

escaping mr. rochester by l.l. mckinney

this ravenous fate by hayley dennings

faebound by saraa el-arifa

so let them burn by kamilah cole

where sleeping girls lie by faridah àbíké-íyímídé

adult:

the deep by rivers solomon

sweet vengeance by viano oniomoh

come back (love concealed) by terri ronald

house of hunger by alexis henderson

short stories:

girl, woman, other by bernadine evaristo

the secret lives of church ladies by deesha philyaw

additional info:

-> “why wasn’t this book listed?” probably because it wasn’t black sapphic-centric, the author isn’t a black sapphic themself, or i just simply haven’t heard of it! so feel free to add on if it meets those two criteria

many of these books require trigger warnings, especially some of the older ones that are more likely to feature racial struggles of the time. please do your due diligence and search for tws if you want to read them!

please feel free to add onto this list in the rbs or comments! happy black history month

please someone teach me the secrets of painting. this is like my fourth time using gouache and i have no idea what i'm doing. also yes i forgot her barrettes and hair tie just shush i got tiredddd

painting this wouldve taken all of 5 minutes but noooo i had to take hours to haphazardly embroider it even though i have no idea what im doing

Staying Motivated As a Writer

AKA things to do when you want to write but don't feel like writing

reread your old writing

write something silly (throw logic out the window!)

choose an old story, or your least favorite scenes, and rewrite it

read old comments from people praising your work

create a playlist for your story

create a playlist for your characters

create a playlist for a friend's project

don't push yourself to write, take a break and refuel

write what you want to write, no matter how cliché, if you want to write it, write it. you don't need anyone's permission but your own

take a break, focus on another hobby of yours

consume other types of media

team up with a friend and write AUs for each other's stories

take a walk to clear your head

you don’t always have to write in chronological order if it isn’t working for you (certain scenes you find boring to write can become more interesting after you’ve explored other parts of the story)

start a completely new story

write a love letter to one of your characters

write a letter of appreciation for yourself as a writer (or to another writer you admire)

write a love letter to a friend's character

write a hate letter to a character of yours that you despise (not badly written characters. characters who deserve a bit of scolding in response to their actions)

you are not a bad writer for not writing every day. take a few days off if necessary

remind yourself to have fun. just start writing, don’t focus all your attention on following every rule, the nitty-gritty can come into play when you're more familiarized with writing as an art

step away from the computer and press play on a writing playlist and brainstorm ideas while walking around or doing chores

remember why you started! you deserve to tell the story you want to tell regardless of the skill you possess

in all timelines in all possibilities only you can show me this

"i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too."

wow. holy shit. thats what winter is to me. ive never been able to put it into words before.

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

“Poor? Have you tried starving? “