Chaos is Law

Writing and history. Need some encouragement or some support? Drop me an ask or an Email! ([email protected])

[garlicbreadreligion]

Some love

Just a small show of love for all my fellow peeps of the LGBTQ+ community

Keep going

Be brave, be strong, be proud of yourself

You deserve a good life and a bright future(And garlic bread), like everybody else

[garlicbreadreligion]

A poem about garlic bread

Garlic Bread

Best Bread

Very good

I cronch the Bread

In my bed

All hail Garlic Bread

[garlicbreadreligion]

It’d be even better with garlic bread

I want one

If I die I’ll get buried in it

[juanxxzh]

Preach

[dankmemeuniversity]

[juanxxzh]

We stan

[juanxxzh]

A poem on rape

I have a deadly nightshade So twisted does it grow- with berries black as midnight And a skull as white as snow The vicar’s cocky young son Came to drink my tea He touched me without asking now he’s buried ‘neath a tree.

— Trad “Girls Skipping Rhyme” from Chokely in Wynterset

[garlicbreadreligion]

The 13 Commandments

I. I(Garlic bread) am the lord thy God. Thou shalt be allowed to have other Gods than me for we stan religious toleration. 

II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any hideous images.

III. Thou shalt not take the name of the lord thy God in vain.

IV. Remember everyday, to keep life interesting and meaningful.

V. Honor thy father and mother, thy friends, thy family, and thy helpers who make thy life better.

VI. Thou shalt not hate based on gender, race, religion, sexual orientation and any other factors.

VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

VIII Thou shalt not commit human rights violations.

IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

X. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods and loved ones.

XI. Thou shalt treat others kindly and expect kind treatment in return.

XII. Thou shalt atone for thy mistakes.

XIII. Thou shalt consume garlic bread, the more the better.

[juanxxzh]

In this house we stan garlic bread

i said what I said

[juanxxzh]

How to write morally grey characters

The difference between a morally ‘white’ character and a morally ‘grey’ character is how far they’ll go to pursue their ideals.

So make your morally grey character hold and implement an idea that is technically morally wrong, but for the right reason.

The vast majority of us on this planet is ‘Morally grey.’ We lie, we hurt each other, we cheat, we fail, we gossip about each other. It is more than likely that if you write your character to be realistic enough, he/she will eventually have to make some hard decisions that make them fall on the morally grey line. How much will they sacrifice for their ideal? For their family? For their pride?

EXAMPLE: War. War is horrible, but if a nation is under attack, it has to retaliate. But who has to right to draft innocent civilians, some about 19 or 20 years old, and force them to kill each other?

Now, this may seem like a feeble excuse for a morally grey character. After all, many people support war. But back to my point on humans: The vast majority of us on this planet is ‘Morally grey.’ But our grey area is just not very obvious.

So, you have a character who is already toeing the greyline for his/her opinions; now, you have to make them implement it. Are they army generals? Make them blow up a village to repel the enemy troops. Are they scientists? Choose between developing weapons to kill, or sitting passively as their nation crumbles.

Torture your characters. Give them a black-or-white decision, where both choices will lead to success for a certain ideal, but for a terrible price.

Humans don’t show much of their true nature when we’re just going about with our normal lives. But when we are put at the edge, we must make choices on how far we will go to protect and pursue the things we hold dear to ourselves.

In summary:

A lot of people reveal their ‘Morally grey’ side when they’re pushed to the edge

Give the character a hard decision that forces them to sacrifice something/someone for the ‘greater good.’

Good luck with writing!

[juanxxzh]

How to show, not tell?

A lot of times, I found myself falling into a pattern where I tell too much, so I tend to follow a very simple strategy when I am trying to ‘show’. I use this strategy to turn all the ‘TELLING’ into ‘SHOWING’ in my writing.

What am I trying to express? Is it sadness? Humiliation? Loneliness? Pinpointing the precise emotion(s) that you’re trying to express in the writing is very important.

What kind of adjectives/verbs would directly express it? In other words, how can I TELL the scene? Often, telling the scene can be a good way to draft out a rough outline of knowing precisely what the SHOWING is supposed to equate to.

For example: Lisa smiled, she finally avenged her father’s killer.

Next, replace the adjective/verb that you used in the sentence with a description.

Lisa smiled, she finally avenged her father’s killer.

Lisa towered above her victim’s broken body. The adrenaline rush is still there, roaring in her veins. She replayed her victim's final pleads as his body slowly crumbled onto the floor, watching the final desperate breath squeeze out of his chest. She finally avenged her father’s killer.

See? Just take out the direct adjectives, verbs, and overused cliches and replace them with descriptions that match their meaning.

Extra tip! For writing description, definitely avoid cliches. Or if you’re going to use a cliche, make sure to twist it a little so it can appeal to the audience in a new way.

For example: Facing the monster, I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Change to: Facing the ferocious monster, I feel my heart desperately hammering against my chest, pleading for escape. Even my heart wants nothing more than to run away from this whole mess.

Happy writing!

[juanxxzh]

Pet (An alternative to ‘Swell’)

She can feel her heart swelling in love. Feel it squeeze and push and contort into a burst of colors. Feel it scream and plead for mercy as she rips it out, over and over again.

A heart is certainly a very interesting pet.

[juanxxzh]

Swell

She can feel her heart swelling. 

Feel it squeeze and push and contort into a burst of colors.

Feel it scream and plead for mercy as she rips it out, over and over again, to offer it to some monster she does not really understand. 

You’re killing me. Her heart whispers. But every time someone smiles down at her, every time a kind word is tossed at her feet like bones tossed to a savage street dog, every time she lays her eyes on a beautiful stranger-

She can feel her heart swelling again.

[juanxxzh]

Sew the parts together

(Trigger warning!)

There is a sickly stink of dry sweat and printer ink whenever father enters the house. If I happen to be a step too late to open the door, a thunder of banging fists and kicks will follow.

Father has a procedure. It was supposed to keep him up and running, but the alcohol had long ruined it. He scrapes off his dusty leather off his fatty feet, fling his bulgy coat onto the sofa and paddle into the kitchen for a drink. Fine by me. I carelessly grab another pack of cigarettes from the cabins, right in front of father’s slouching body, but I don’t think he notices or cares. However, today is a special day for both of us, and I’ve been planning it for a long time.

I tilt my head up and blow a puff of smoke into the air, watching it lazily curl around the flickering kitchen light. There is a crumpled package for father on the table, a gift from his daughter. He ripped off the wrappers and see my gift: A set of liquor bottles and shot glasses. 

‘Happy birthday.’

Father coughs and pops off the cap. Golden yellow splashed into the glass. The drink is not right, too much alcohol and too little flavor, but it will suffice.

I grab a pack of cigarettes and slinks into the bathroom.

Inhale, exhale. Every time I breathe out another puff of smoke, I breathe out a little part of myself. It is why I smoke in the bathroom. When the smoke fades and the last cigarette loses its spark, I can pick up all the little pieces of myself scattered around and sew myself back up again. Inhale, exhale. But for the moment, I am content to be breaking apart.

The bathroom turns into a drowsy den of fatigue. In my fleeting moments of blindness, I could almost believe I can go seek out my father-Not for a deep emotional talk or anything, but just a quiet moment for us to enjoy each other’s company. No smokes, no drinks, only father and daughter together.

Inhale, exhale. How drunk is father right now? The stink is still close, of course, but the smoke shields me from it. The cheap drinks with slivers of alcohol won’t get him drunk enough to quit work the next day, but they will probably result in a few broken cabinets, at best. But the hard liquor? That’ll put him down for good.

The stink is growing stronger. I hear shot glasses rolling on the floor. I hear a crash, a body tumbling on the floor and silence. I walk into a world of broken glass and frames. The alcohol has done its job well. I see my father crumpled on the floor, bloody red gushing out of the side of his head. I drag him onto the sofa and sit beside him. 

Is he dead? He better be dead. Well, it doesn’t matter whether he’s dead or not. He’s been falling apart for a long time now, and he has to give in sooner or later. No matter how well sewn-together he is, everything falls apart eventually.

I looked away from father, across the sheet of glass in the living room, and into the night. It’s just father and daughter together, just a quiet moment for us to enjoy each other’s company, at last.