wruffdraft
that dog can WRITE???
warp💫she/her💫i write stuff :]
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i took elvish in school and i fucking hated it. the teacher was like 700 years old and he'd like take us on field trips to sit on the banks of babbling brooks and watch the fall of sunlight through the leaves. my friends in spanish class were like conjugating verbs and shit and meanwhile i was in an old-growth forest being overcome with awe at the sight of a majestic stag. like uhh yeah mr autumnheart when are we gonna learn like any grammar "listen to the murmur of the wind in the treetops, and you shall find the grammar you seek" like fuck dude your pedagogy leaves much to be desired
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for me at least, theres always been a really stark divide in the 'child character is the main antagonist' sort of stories.
on one hand. theres stories that rely on the shock factor of a child being evil, because we're supposed to believe that kids arent capable of that sort of thing. i guess its supposed to be frightening but the novelty always wears off really quickly for me.
i think 'a child is the villain' always lands most successfully for me when a kid is given power beyond their years (either by adults around them or otherwise supernatural/societal forces) and then everyone is floored when they arent exactly responsible with that power. and sometimes theyre even selfish! not because that kid is evil, but because theyre a kid.. acting like a kid would in their situation.
it means that any sort of story that follows requires a protagonist to reason with someone who may not even understand the harm theyre doing, or worse - not have the life lived to understand why they should care in the first place. and also, i think watching what happens when u have an destructive force seeking comforts that any child deserves doing whatever they can to have those things is (to me) much more interesting than 'child who is fucked up and evil for no reason but being born that way actually'
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Writing advice from my uni teachers:
If your dialog feels flat, rewrite the scene pretending the characters cannot at any cost say exactly what they mean. No one says “I’m mad” but they can say it in 100 other ways.
Wrote a chapter but you dislike it? Rewrite it again from memory. That way you’re only remembering the main parts and can fill in extra details. My teacher who was a playwright literally writes every single script twice because of this.
Don’t overuse metaphors, or they lose their potency. Limit yourself.
Before you write your novel, write a page of anything from your characters POV so you can get their voice right. Do this for every main character introduced.
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Sometimes i think about the idea of Common as a language in fantasy settings.
On the one hand, it’s a nice convenient narrative device that doesn’t necessarily need to be explored, but if you do take a moment to think about where it came from or what it might look like, you find that there’s really only 2 possible origins.
In settings where humans speak common and only Common, while every other race has its own language and also speaks Common, the implication is rather clear: at some point in the setting’s history, humans did the imperialism thing, and while their empire has crumbled, the only reason everyone speaks Human is that way back when, they had to, and since everyone speaks it, the humans rebranded their language as Common and painted themselves as the default race in a not-so-subtle parallel of real-world whiteness.
In settings where Human and Common are separate languages, though (and I haven’t seen nearly as many of these as I’d like), Common would have developed communally between at least three or four races who needed to communicate all together. With only two races trying to communicate, no one would need to learn more than one new language, but if, say, a marketplace became a trading hub for humans, dwarves, orcs, and elves, then either any given trader would need to learn three new languages to be sure that they could talk to every potential customer, OR a pidgin could spring up around that marketplace that eventually spreads as the traders travel the world.
Drop your concept of Common meaning “english, but in middle earth” for a moment and imagine a language where everyone uses human words for produce, farming, and carpentry; dwarven words for gemstones, masonry, and construction; elven words for textiles, magic, and music; and orcish words for smithing weaponry/armor, and livestock. Imagine that it’s all tied together with a mishmash of grammatical structures where some words conjugate and others don’t, some adjectives go before the noun and some go after, and plurals and tenses vary wildly based on what you’re talking about.
Now try to tell me that’s not infinitely more interesting.
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There's a huge difference between redemption and humanization. I feel like a lot of "redemption arcs" aren't actually redemption at all, they're just attempts to humanize the villain so that they seem multi-faceted, but people read them as "redemption arcs" and think that that is meant to justify all the evil they've done before and negate whatever made them a villain in the first place. I think true "redemption arcs" are actually kind of rare because true redemption would take making the villain acknowledge their crimes, reevaluate their actions, actively choose to do better, and then proceed to make amends and become a better person, and that would this take more time than most stories are allowed to give their characters.
I've also seen people argue that a character has to be poised for redemption from the jump for it to work because once a character does something "too bad", they can't be redeemed. I completely disagree because redemption isn't justification or forgiveness, so no matter how horrible a character's actions, they could choose to become better, but because a lot of people (including writers) think redemption means "erasing the character's flaws and making it so they did nothing wrong ever", a lot of attempted "redemption arcs" just end up erasing a character's entire history or justifying every evil thing they've ever done. And yeah, in these cases, the only way to make a character go from a villain to a perfect cinnamon roll with no flaws *is* to have been planning it from the beginning and make sure they never do anything that can't be explained away later.
TLDR: real redemption arcs require a lot of self-awareness, patience, and growth, which are things that are rarely actually allocated to villains, and that's why real redemption arcs almost never get executed. The reason people think redemption arcs are overdone is because there are so many attempts to either humanize a villain that get misconstrued as redemption or attempts to blatantly erase who a character was in the name of "redemption", which is really just poor character development.
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If your plot feels flat, STUDY it! Your story might be lacking...
Stakes - What would happen if the protagonist failed? Would it really be such a bad thing if it happened?
Thematic relevance - Do the events of the story speak to a greater emotional or moral message? Is the conflict resolved in a way that befits the theme?
Urgency - How much time does the protagonist have to complete their goal? Are there multiple factors complicating the situation?
Drive - What motivates the protagonist? Are they an active player in the story, or are they repeatedly getting pushed around by external forces? Could you swap them out for a different character with no impact on the plot? On the flip side, do the other characters have sensible motivations of their own?
Yield - Is there foreshadowing? Do the protagonist's choices have unforeseen consequences down the road? Do they use knowledge or clues from the beginning, to help them in the end? Do they learn things about the other characters that weren't immediately obvious?
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Part 2: Willow is changing.
Okay, yeah, something weird is definitely going on.
I was resting my head on my hand in English, about to fall asleep, when I noticed that my ear felt different. I thought maybe this was another one of my weird hallucinations from the daydreams I’d been having the past week, but when I touched my ear with my fingertip I could feel how real it was. The tip was covered in a soft fuzz, and it was more pointy, too. I checked the other ear, and it was the same. I shakingly got up from my desk, nearly tripping over myself in the process. I rushed straight for the bathroom mirror, and sure enough, little white tufts were sticking out of my hair. I frantically brushed them back repeatedly to try and flatten them, so that maybe I could force myself to sit through the rest of class without being horrified that somebody would notice. Thankfully my hair was long enough to hide them. I took a deep breath and tried my best to look normal. I walked back to my desk with the lightest steps I could possibly take, hyper-aware of how much space my body took up. I kept my hands on my neck, reaching up every so often to play with my ears and make sure they were covered.
I noticed that petting the tufts actually felt surprisingly calming. They were just little wisps but stroking them with my fingertips seemed to relax my entire body and even soothe the pounding anxiety I always feel in my chest. It felt nice.
After I had calmed myself down a bit, and readjusted to the environment of thirty or so other students cramped into the same space as me, I tried to make friendly eye contact with the girl I’ve become decidedly attached to. I tried before, but I felt a bit silly looking for approval when there was no reason for her to look back at me. I learned her name was Natalie. She drifted her gaze across the room, avoiding ever making eye contact with our professor or any of the talkative people in class. Maybe if I was better at having nice body language she’d realize I’m not like those other people.
The next day the fur on my ears was gone. I felt the smooth roundness of my ears in my fingers and sighed in relief. However, I realized I had a new problem. As I was walking to computer science, the cold autumn breeze freezing against my skin, I spotted a squirrel running up a tree from the corner of my eye. Great, a squirrel, who cares, right? But I literally could not keep my eyes off of it. My head was fixed in its direction, and before I knew it, I had run up to the tree and started scratching at the soft bark. The squirrel stared out into the distance as it frantically bounced up the tree, glancing down at me with each twitchy movement. I felt something soft brush against my leg, but unlike a couple days ago with Carissa, I could actually feel it pulling on my tailbone, the weight of the wagging shaking my body slightly. I snapped out of my squirrel trance to feel behind me, and sure enough, the fluffy fur of a tail filled the palm of my hand. It was white and very short, barely peeking out from under my sweatshirt, and very very fluffy. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t just dreaming, but yes, this tail was really there and it was really attached to me. I ran in circles, trying to get it to get off of me, and nearly fell over in the process. I stopped to catch my breath, and ran my hand through the fur once again, pulling at it to see if maybe someone had just stuck it on me as a funny joke. It didn’t budge. There was no getting rid of this now.
I pulled my sweatshirt all the way down and held my backpack behind my butt to cover this stupid fluffy tail as I walked to the hall where my computer science class was. I was hoping it would go away like my ears by the time I got there, but as I saw the building grow closer, the tail seemed to only get bigger. I felt it push against my shirt and in a panic I ran over to a corner outside the entrance. Why, why, why is this happening to me? Suddenly I felt something tickle at my arm. I jerked my arm up to pull up my sleeve, and immediately pulled it back down when I saw what it was. A small white patch of fur had grown right next to my elbow, covering my skin in the same soft, fluffy fur that my tail was covered in.
Trying my best to calm down, I moved away from the lines of people walking into the building and sat down in the grass by a tree. Okay, I have a tail now. That’s fine. People wear tails sometimes. That’s not weird. I mean, it is, but like, not as weird as someone growing a tail. It’s fine, nobody would think I’m like actually growing a tail. Right? I felt my ears turn fluffy again. Shit. Okay. Maybe I can skip just one class.
Alone in my dorm, I threw my bag onto the floor and flopped into bed. The dim light of the cold morning was just now lighting up the room with a cold blue. My tail wrapped around my body as I layed on my side, offering a surprising amount of warmth and comfort. I was still for a moment. I got up and trudged to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror.
It took me a second to recognize the figure I saw staring back at me as myself. My fluffy ears were bigger than before, and the fur spread a bit down to my cheeks, too. My hair was even streaked with white in a few areas, and the parts where it was white were much softer and thicker than the rest of my hair. My tail was bigger, I could see it drooping behind my legs. For some reason I felt the urge to try brushing my tail, so I grabbed my hairbrush from the sink and slowly dragged it across my fur. It felt… nice. Slowly my tail started wagging and I looked at myself in the eyes and I saw a real look of contentment that I haven’t seen on myself for months. I felt okay.
This feeling didn’t last long, though, when I realized I was going to have to coexist with my roommate. She wouldn’t be back for a few hours, but there was no way I was going to be able to hide this from her. I put the brush back in my drawer and retreated back into bed, wrapping up my body with my fluffy tail and the pillows and blankets around me. Maybe I could just stay here forever. The softness of my bed melted my thoughts until I slowly drifted off into sleep.
I woke up to the sound of my roommate slamming the door shut.
“Dude, you’re not gonna believe what happened in–” She hovered over my bed, looking me in the eyes, “WILLOW.”
“Uh. What?” I said innocently, wrapping the blanket closer to my body, and covering my face.
“Did I just wake you up? Wait, did you even go to class? Are you sick?”
“No, no, I’m okay. Just feel a bit fuzzy today–I mean, a bit weird. Yeah, just feel a bit weird.”
“Are you wearing a wig?”
“What?”
“Your hair is white.” I reached up to feel my hair, and as I ran the strands through my hair, I felt that they were thicker like the white strands from earlier. Only now, it was my whole head.
“Uhh, oh, yeah. Yeah, my hair’s just white. It's, uhh, cool, right?”
“Did you stay home to dye your hair, dude?”
“No. I mean, yes.” She looked really confused now, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, well then… I’m going to make ramen, do you want any?”
“No, I’m just gonna stay in bed. You just… go do that… in the other room… away from here.”
“Uh-huh,” she sighed, definitely not buying my attempts to be normal, “just get some rest, okay?”
“Yep,” I said, turning over under the sheets as she closed the door.
I finally had the chance to check if this whole fluffy thing had gotten worse. I took out my phone and turned the camera on my face. I still looked human, thankfully. The fur had disappeared from my face, but my hair was definitely white. I checked the rest of my body, and it seemed to all be normal, no more fur at least. I still had no idea why this was happening to me or why it seemed to just reverse itself at random times. There was a part of me that hoped that this was just some sort of strange dream, and that I would wake up and be able to function normally again. There was another part of me that felt like it was finally being seen.
I forced myself to get out of bed and waved my hands behind me to confirm that there was no tail. I worked on my computer science stuff, but every couple minutes I had to go to the bathroom to check again. And again. Anytime I felt a slight twitch or a strand of hair moved out of place, I had to make sure I was normal. It was obsessive.
“Bro, you gotta shit or something?” my roommate said, at like, my fifth time going to the bathroom.
“Yeah, uh, y’know, that cafeteria food, am I right? Hahaha…”
I managed to get through econ without having any strange transformations, and nobody really even cared about my hair being white. I was actually starting to feel pretty normal again. Carissa came over to hang out with me and my roommate and we watched a show while we worked on homework. When she came over, though, she seemed to instinctively reach down and scratch my head while I was sitting on the floor. It wasn’t the weirdest thing she’s ever done but she looked at me as if she wasn’t quite sure why she was doing it. As if something was different this time, compared to all the other times she’s touched me. I think my roommate noticed it, too, the way that they both sat on the couch without leaving room for me, as if it would be strange for me to be sitting anywhere but the floor. It was an unspoken air of something about me feeling a bit different. I wasn’t bothered by it, though, it actually made me feel incredibly comfortable. As if this is how it was meant to be this whole time. I looked up at them, and they looked down at me.
Wolf Shift
A short story about a girl who has to balance her unwilling transition into a werewolf with appearing normal to her human acquaintances and her crush (...and also the realization that she's queer). I will be releasing each part every few days.
Part 1: Closeted.
There's this one girl in my English class who, for some reason, I can't stop staring at. From across the room I fixate on her face, the softness of her jaw and the way her short hair curls around her ears taking all my attention away from Frankenstein. She doesn't pay attention in class and avoids talking to anybody. She leaves in the middle of the lecture to go to the bathroom and she's gone for like 15 minutes at a time, I mean, she obviously doesn’t care about the class. There's just something about the way she binds her chest and rolls up her sleeves that makes me feel like I need to touch her, I can't figure it out, why do I have this urge to bury my nose in her neck and surround myself in her scent? I’ve never been this attracted to somebody before. Maybe this is just something that happens to people who really want to make friends with somebody. Something like that.
On my walk home from class I walked past a small restaurant on the busiest tourist street. The smell of fried shrimp wafted under my nose as a customer opened the door. I swear I could literally taste the crispy batter and the soft white meat as I walked past, the fleshy crunch of each bite in my teeth passing through my mouth as I ravaged it to bits. This deep, strange hunger followed me all the way down the block, taking over my mind and making me feel so excited for something I knew I wasn’t going to have. I stopped for a second. Should I go back? I glanced over my shoulder to check if I could still see the store. My jaw suddenly seemed heavier, as if a piece of wax had been wedged in between my teeth, preventing me from closing my mouth at all. I realized how much saliva I was dripping on my shirt, and quickly reached up to grab my face, almost surprised when I didn’t feel a muzzle and instead nearly stuck my fingers straight into my mouth. Why did I expect a muzzle?
The burning ambient stare of a person from the corner of my eye alerted my attention to the crowd of people waiting behind me at the crosswalk. Embarrassed, I quickly dodged past them, turning the corner into the dark sidepath dappled in shadow from the looming trees. In my panic I nearly ran straight into my friend Carissa, who had spotted me from across the street.
“Tall… and slender… You’re GORGEOUS.” she said, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair.
“Dude, shut the fuck up,” I said, laughing and pushing her away, “I can’t deal with you this early in the morning.”
“Oh, you love me so much it hurts.” Carissa has this awfully crude sense of humor, and I’m used to it, but it still makes me feel happy when she looks at me and touches me and connects with me, even if she’s doing something as stupid as platonic catcalling. It’s nice to have somebody else who sees me. As I watched her smile spread across her face I could feel something warm build up inside me, filling me with a weird fuzzy feeling of excitement. Suddenly, I felt something soft brush against my leg. It was really light, almost like some sort of phantom sensation, as if I had a tail wagging behind me. I shuddered as it fell against my legs, and I threw my hands behind me to grab at it, but felt nothing. It was as if I had just imagined it. Carissa laughed at how bewildered I looked (probably looked extra stupid because I was grabbing at my ass), and I tried my best to laugh with her. I feel like I'm losing it. I hope she couldn't tell.
I washed my face in the sink with cold water to try and wake myself up. I had like two huge deadlines that week for econ and computer science, and I needed to stay up even later to finish up my research. Through my wet, blurred vision I stared at my face across the mirror, trying to piece together who I even was anymore. I've felt disconnected from my body all week, and I'm not sure why. Probably just freshman nerves.
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Wolf Shift
A short story about a girl who has to balance her unwilling transition into a werewolf with appearing normal to her human acquaintances and her crush (...and also the realization that she's queer). I will be releasing each part every few days.
Part 1: Closeted.
There's this one girl in my English class who, for some reason, I can't stop staring at. From across the room I fixate on her face, the softness of her jaw and the way her short hair curls around her ears taking all my attention away from Frankenstein. She doesn't pay attention in class and avoids talking to anybody. She leaves in the middle of the lecture to go to the bathroom and she's gone for like 15 minutes at a time, I mean, she obviously doesn’t care about the class. There's just something about the way she binds her chest and rolls up her sleeves that makes me feel like I need to touch her, I can't figure it out, why do I have this urge to bury my nose in her neck and surround myself in her scent? I’ve never been this attracted to somebody before. Maybe this is just something that happens to people who really want to make friends with somebody. Something like that.
On my walk home from class I walked past a small restaurant on the busiest tourist street. The smell of fried shrimp wafted under my nose as a customer opened the door. I swear I could literally taste the crispy batter and the soft white meat as I walked past, the fleshy crunch of each bite in my teeth passing through my mouth as I ravaged it to bits. This deep, strange hunger followed me all the way down the block, taking over my mind and making me feel so excited for something I knew I wasn’t going to have. I stopped for a second. Should I go back? I glanced over my shoulder to check if I could still see the store. My jaw suddenly seemed heavier, as if a piece of wax had been wedged in between my teeth, preventing me from closing my mouth at all. I realized how much saliva I was dripping on my shirt, and quickly reached up to grab my face, almost surprised when I didn’t feel a muzzle and instead nearly stuck my fingers straight into my mouth. Why did I expect a muzzle?
The burning ambient stare of a person from the corner of my eye alerted my attention to the crowd of people waiting behind me at the crosswalk. Embarrassed, I quickly dodged past them, turning the corner into the dark sidepath dappled in shadow from the looming trees. In my panic I nearly ran straight into my friend Carissa, who had spotted me from across the street.
“Tall… and slender… You’re GORGEOUS.” she said, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair.
“Dude, shut the fuck up,” I said, laughing and pushing her away, “I can’t deal with you this early in the morning.”
“Oh, you love me so much it hurts.” Carissa has this awfully crude sense of humor, and I’m used to it, but it still makes me feel happy when she looks at me and touches me and connects with me, even if she’s doing something as stupid as platonic catcalling. It’s nice to have somebody else who sees me. As I watched her smile spread across her face I could feel something warm build up inside me, filling me with a weird fuzzy feeling of excitement. Suddenly, I felt something soft brush against my leg. It was really light, almost like some sort of phantom sensation, as if I had a tail wagging behind me. I shuddered as it fell against my legs, and I threw my hands behind me to grab at it, but felt nothing. It was as if I had just imagined it. Carissa laughed at how bewildered I looked (probably looked extra stupid because I was grabbing at my ass), and I tried my best to laugh with her. I feel like I'm losing it. I hope she couldn't tell.
I washed my face in the sink with cold water to try and wake myself up. I had like two huge deadlines that week for econ and computer science, and I needed to stay up even later to finish up my research. Through my wet, blurred vision I stared at my face across the mirror, trying to piece together who I even was anymore. I've felt disconnected from my body all week, and I'm not sure why. Probably just freshman nerves.
#furry#therian#alterhuman#otherkin#furry short story#queer short story#furry tf#tf#inspired by patricia taxxon's rex story#wolf shift
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cover for my upcoming short story, "wolf shift"
:)
autumn morning wolf
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hellow fellow weirdos and creatures!!! im gonna be posting stuff i write, mostly of the therian & furry variety, so if your interested in that id love to be mutuals (i follow from my art acc!) :]
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