Tenho mais um Motivo de Cão

I'm Goose, I like grilled artichokes and goat's cheese and women, and I'll be your guide through the bog today.

You can use she/her to refer to me although I wish I were a man. I fuck with she/they, idgaf. I don't mind too much if you misgender me, but I do give a shit if you call me American: I will leave you for the bog beasts. I actually know how to spell and speak more than one language.

Here you will find an assortment of fandom nonsense, vaguely spooky art, things from my fave horror shows/films, the occasional rambling, but no salvation. On the left there is Star Trek and gorgeous women, and on the right there is metal music and the pit of despair. You can go in but beware the teeth. This place is mostly Hannibal now which it wasn't when I started but it is now so yeah. It's grown everywhere but the rangers can't fight it off. The rangers, however, do need to clean up the tags.

No longer taking commissions on this account: I would prefer to keep my professional and private life separate (my publisher does not know I sometimes write smut and fanfiction instead of working, so let's keep it our little secret, hm? Although I am often writing on agency time.)

Do not touch the weeds with the small pink flowers, they are actually not weeds and a horror from the deep will emerge to aggressively shout slam poetry at you. They have lots of Big Feelings and the bog is currently lacking a therapist.

If you wish to use a prompt/post the bog has spat up please feel free, but we do ask that you tag us, as the bog creatures would be most pleased to read and/or see what you've produced! Sometimes they are drawn to eat art the same way humans are to sea glass, so maybe keep your work in a glass container, so they can see it but not touch.

CONTENT WARNINGS: There will be blood and guts and nudity and all that stuff. I try to tag everything but sometimes I forget so forgive me. Fingers. Sometimes there's religious stuff, sometimes there's suggestive art. Sometimes I just want to geek out on language but you don't follow me for that, so :(

We hope you enjoy your stay at the bog, and if you want to make a donation, we will be accepting a wife (preferably kinky and rich and ten years older than me), language exchanges, and my grandfather's birth certificate if you can find it. Thank you.

Fic Masterlist Below:

not really.

as the writing is like this.

and this. not like this.

and everything is either a comparison. it is written like this. not like this. the type of writing that tends to be choppy.

and it's everywhere.

in the new fics i read and the books in the store and the manuscripts i edit.

this choppy series of statements.

as if it was written by AI i swear.

it's not poetry. it's performance.

no flow.

no emotion.

no thread of human touch holding it together.

there isn't even space for imperfection when it is all just statements.

like this.

and this.

over and over again.

i cannot fucking read books like this. my brain just cant connect. i don't get immersed, there's no flow. every time there's a new line--

suddenly my train of thought is gone.

disconnected.

there's no emotion.

only description.

no interiority.

just similes.

it's not this. it's this.

the writing feels cold.

the type of writing that feels cold.

i feel far from the character. their pov.

the environment is disjointed. does not exist.

everything is held at arms length.

everything exists in a vacuum.

an island of it's own.

crack.

fracture.

pieces of shattered glass.

i fucking cannot stand this style of writing. anytime a client asks me to edit their manuscript and i open the document and it looks like this?

i refuse the job.

not doing that to myself.

it takes extra energy to read like this.

i don't have proof. it is just a feeling.

i tire so quickly.

i search for the character within the spaces.

but i cannot feel them, i can never get a sense of them.

there is no personality when everything exists on a string and there is no train of thought.

no cohesion.

just statements.

and at the end of the day i go to read a book, open a fic, search for some form of escape. and yet.