#I'm going to compost it or something

[dreamytfw]

Question for y'all: is this fic any good? Can't decide if I should I read it or sell it to a 2nd hand book store.

[night-raven-tattler]

Can you offer me a nice shirt in this trying time?

Summary: The usual shenanigans leave you with an unwearable shirt. All you can do is ask your friend (?) for help.

Characters: Leona, Jade, Epel, Malleus and GN!Reader (separate, platonic adjacent...?)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and mild panic over the dirty shirt

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Looking at your pathetic expression akin to a kicked puppy while you tried to cover your dirty shirt made Leona burst into laughter, even after you just stepped on his tail

You looked away, flustered, not even wanting to recount the embarassing turn of events that just happened

But you didn't need to; Leona heard it all

He heard you from the other side of the botanical gardens talking with your friends, who started bickering with each other

Things got a bit physical in a playful way, but none of you really expected to shove each other so hard you all crumbled to the ground like a ridiculous domino

And the only thing you could be glad for was that you missed the pile of compost nearby

And now you were in front of him as he quite enjoyed your flustered state

"I wanted to apologise for stepping on your tail, you know. But I changed my mind."

Leona's laughter turned into snickering as he wiped nonexistent tears away from his eyes

"If you don't want me to laugh, then stop acting like a clown."

You stomped your foot, which made Leona look at you

"This is serious! I have no other clean shirt and class is going to start soon. So you can either help me or give me an idea or leave me alone."

Something in Leona's eyes changed at your words: his mocking aura went away slightly, and you could almost hear what he was thinking

Still thinking about class after being dragged in dirt? Damn goody-two-shoes.

"Alright, I'm doing this just this once. But if I catch you play in dirt again, you're on your own, you damn warthog."

Leona put a hand in his pocket, then tapped his foot

To your surprise, the dirt started vanishing from your outfit right away

All you could do was stare at Leona, mouth agape

And he stared right back at you

Until his smile turned into a frown in a secons

"What are you waiting for, a kiss on the cheek? Just go to your class already."

You just frantically nodded and scurried away from him

...just to return a few seconds later and leave, in fact, a kiss on his cheek

He just stared at you while you awaited any kind of reaction beside his resting tired face

"...Forget what I said about not helping you. Next time I'll shove you into dirt myself."

That reaction seemed to satisfy you enough, as you took your leave right after his threat

『••✎••』

Working at the Mostro Lounge had its ups and downs

Ups: the job is on campus, the place is always looking for workers and it's one of the best paying jobs on campus

Downs: one of your coworkers is Jade, and the other is Floyd

They'd be relatively nice coworkers if they didn't take their sweet time with helping you while enjoying every second of suffering from all living creatures

Like they did when you tripped on your way to a client and spilled the drink on yourself

They just watched for a few seconds how you panicked over the dirty shirt and the irritated customer

Jade came and dragged you away a few seconds too late for your liking while Floyd started on another drink against his will

You had no idea why Jade led you to the Lounge's changing room, but his smile did not calm you down at all

After all, Jade was very talented at everything except of being reassuring

He left you on your own for a few seconds, coming back with a new uniform shirt, which he handed to you

"This is a replacement for your dirty shirt. Please get changed so you can resume your duties."

You stared at Jade suspiciously

Was he handing you a shirt just like that?

He accepted your silent confusion for a few more seconds before his smile widened, showing his teeth

"What is the problem, Reader? Perhaps you require my assistance with getting changed?"

No matter how hard you frowned at him, the blush was not making your disdain too effective

"What? No! That's not it!"

"...So you're saying you would not refuse my services if that were to be the case?"

"I- no! Ugh!"

Even while you hid your face in the shirt you knew he was still giving you that annoying grin

"You're saying I can just change into this? Without any payment or punishment?"

Jade gasped and put a hand over his chest, feigning offense

"What an incredulous accusation, Reader. I can assure you that no consequences will follow you needing another shirt for the remainder of your shift."

"..."

"..."

"...Are you sure?"

"Certainly."

You knew better than to trust any of the tweels, but you supposed you'll cross that bridge when you got to it

Besides, being MIA on your shift might make Azul take thaumarks out of your paycheck, and you didn't need to manifest that kind of outcome

"Fine, I'll take it. Please leave so I can change."

"As you wish."

So he left you in the empty changing room, a hint of a blush still on your face

You knew getting revenge on any student at NRC was a bad idea, but you couldn't help but imagine "accidentally" spilling some cherry juice on Jade's dorm uniform

『••✎••』

Cleaning duty in the library was not fun, but at least Epel knew how to make things entertaining

He wasn't a comedian or anything like that, but his Vil-themed tirades were always animated and gossipy enough that they had you hooked on his every word

Or every word that you could understand, at least

And a complaining storytelling Epel is not the most careful Epel

So you were not too surprised when he spilled some ink on your sleeves

"Hey, my shirt! You spilled ink on me!"

Epel noticed the big stains and his eyes widened

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"What am I gonna do?! I have no clean laundry today!"

While you were frantically pacing around, Epel was staring at the floor, not being able to meet your eyes

"Hey, come on... It's not that bad. See, it's just a small stain!"

The death glare you threw his way rivaled Vil's, and Epel took a step back instinctively

"Okay, okay! I get it, let me think..."

A few seconds of contemplation later, Epel went to the window and looked outside

"Hey, Vil is having a club meeting outside right now. He must have a stain stick or a spell or something."

"What about cleaning duty?"

"Just go deal with your shirt and come back when it's clean. I'll put away all the old ink in the meantime."

After Epel's convincing, you relented

But now you had the perfect opportunity to show off your newly aquired NRC thirst for revenge...

Let's just say that Vil was very thankful you told him about Epel's attitude towards your stain while he dealt with it....

Epel did not talk to you the next day

Except for that time during lunch when he came towards you with a bitter expression and some comically overfilled pockets

When he got next to you, he shoved his hand into one of his pockets and, with difficulty, pulled out 5 stain pens

"I hate you."

That was all he said before walking away

『••✎••』

During your days as an NRC student you've learned a lot of things, including facts about the weather

1: The weather will always be nice on the date of the monthly scarabinelle debates in the courtyard

2: The statue of the King of the Underworld from the courtyard never got wet from rain

3: Unlike his statue, you were not waterproof

Neither was your shirt

So by the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, you were soaking wet

You marveled at your misfortune right as Malleus entered the room through the Diasomnia mirror

His mild surprise from bumping into you made him almost not notice your predicament

"...Child of man? What happened to you?"

You sighed and told him you were caught in the rain, but you had no clean change of clothes and were feeling pretty cold already

"Hm. This can't do. Humans are very fragile creatures, a simple soak can leave lasting effects on your body.

Malleus seemed to fall deep in thought, as if he was presented with an incredible puzzle, and not the random misfortune of a friend

He nodded to himself, and you were curious to know the conclusion he reached

"Allow me to help you."

You sighed of relief at his decision

Out of everyone on campus, you trusted Malleus to be genuine and helpful, so you accepted his help

You didn't think much of it when he pulled out his magical pen from his pocket; you figured he was just going to use a small drying spell

Boy were you wrong.

Malleus rotated his pen slightly in the air, creating an ever growing wind

The speed and intensity of it grew very fast, and you had to grab onto a pillar to hold yourself in place

You watched in horror how a few students were pushed by the wind back into their mirrors as soon as they entered the Hall of Mirrors

You couldn't even attempt to do any damage control, since the wind was too loud for your voice to be heard

After what felt like forever, Malleus' wind started to dwindle and your feet were able to be on the ground again

"That... That certainly was a method of helping."

"Well? Was it successful? You seem pretty dry to me."

He smiled proudly at you

It was obvious how he knew that he did a good job and he was simply awaiting your praise

You patted down your uniform, and were surprised to notice your uniform was, indeed, dry

"...Yeah, actually. Thanks!"

"You are very welcome."

His smug words were carried by his confident grin as he proudly marched away from you and out of the room

The whole interaction was definitely weird, so you couldn't help but share it over lunch with your friends, Ace and Deuce

After you shared Malleus' small drying machine job, Ace started laughing at you, while Deuce put a hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face

『••✎••』

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[leupagus]

Guys I Might Have Three Nickels

I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.

Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2

and guys

Guys

So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."

At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.

Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:

At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."

Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:

Yeah I bet u r tempted

He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.

There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.

Not how he wanted their first date to go D:

The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":

Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:

After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.

Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.

[friend-crow]

I think I've rambled about this a little bit before, but I really believe that if we were able to shift our standard burial practice to human composting and memorial tree planting, the impacts could be huge.

Imagine how much more people would care about trees if they were the grave markers of their loved ones (and unlike grave markers, actually grew from the remains of their family). Think of the legal protections people would place on ancestral forests. A lot of people would probably be more invested in learning about the biodiversity needed for a forest to thrive -- not like the bullshit "carbon offset" single species tree plantings used to alleviate consumer guilt.

Some people would probably be motivated to spend more time in and learning about forests. Others probably wouldn't really, but you'd better believe people would be up in arms if they heard that somebody wants to cut down grandpa's tree.

Something I've seen in recent years is that the increase in fires on the west coast has made the reality of climate change a lot more real for a lot of people here. Especially after the week in 2020 when Portland had the worst air quality in the world due to wildfire smoke, people could no longer think of it as something for future generations to deal with. It became clear that we were going to be living with this, effective immediately.

I'm not saying that having ancestral forests would suddenly stop forest fires, but it would be another thing to get more people invested in environmental protections and technology.

And yes, I am on some speculative fiction hippy shit, but dammit, ancestral forests would be cool. Don't you want to remember your loved ones by going and talking to a tree? Or a group of trees? Like yeah, they'd be less permanent than a stone monument, but once an ancestor's tree falls, it can become a nursery log for younger generations.

Don't you want to become part of the forest when you die??

*Disclaimer: idea presented primarily as an alternative to preserving corpses with toxic chemicals and burying them in expensive boxes as is common where I live, and not meant to replace all other cultural traditions related to death and burial. Please don't come at me for responding to the norms of my own culture, I am aware that other cultures exist.

[turtlesandfrogs]

Ok, now I'm really concerned that how to prevent rats isn't common knowledge like I thought it was. So, to anyone whose parents/guardians/adults didn't teach you, here's the basics of prevention*:

Rats, like you, need three things: food, water, and shelter. If they don't get these things, they don't bother sticking around. Access to food is probably the biggest draw, and the one you can do the most about.

Rats eat the same foods you do, and the same food that most pets eat. You don't want them to have access to this food, so:

Don't leave dirty dishes laying around, the smell will attract rats. Don't put leave dirty dishes in your bed room, or under the couch, or in your car, or whatever. Dishwashers are great, but if you don't have a functional one, and you're low on energy/executive function, at a minimum cover your dirty dishes with soapy water instead of leaving them out. Rats can't eat soapy food.

Work to minimize food waste, because the smell of tasty food in your compost or garbage will attract rats.

Don't put food scraps in your indoor garbage unless your garbage can is rat proof. Take it outside asap, to a rat-proof bin.

When composting, if you're composting food that would be attractive to rats (grains, fats/oils, dairy, meat) it's best to: bury the food down in the center of the pile, try out bokashi composting, or have a rat-proof composter. Generally people do tell you not to compost dairy and meat, but I do know that some people do it anyway.

Keep your grains & legumes in rodent proof-containers. Glass jars, metal trash cans, etc.

If you have dogs, put their food away at night. If you have birds or other animals that eat a seed-based diet, then it pays to make their food/enclosures inaccessible to rats as well. Cats are rat deterrents so leaving dry food out for them is probably the one exception.

Clean up spilled foods immediately.

If you have fruit trees (like those apple trees everyone has that were planted 3 or more decades ago) and notice that something besides a deer is eating them, it's really best to pick all the fruit. You probably can't eat it all, so giving it away is a good option. Compost the rotten/icky ones fallowing the advice above, or dig a hole and do some trench composting.

Rats also need water, which is another reason to make sure you don't have any leaks anywhere, and to not leave beverages out in open containers.

Beyond that, thoroughly looking around your house, inside and out, to make sure there's no access points. Vents can be covered with wire mesh, holes the size of a dime need to be patched (because mice exist, too). Keep vegetation clear from around the base of your house, and make sure there's no trees or shrubs growing close enough to your house that a rat could make the leap to your roof. Keep an eye out for tunnels near your house's foundation, because they will tunnel underneath.

Also, while I'm at it, for the love of your house's structural integrity, DO NOT store wood piles against your house. Termites people!!!

And yes, there's a reason why cats are such a common pet. Not only do they hunt rats, the very smell of a cat is enough to deter rats. Do not just get a cat for rat prevention though, only get a cat if you're going to provide it a good home and are able to take on the additional care tasks without over extending yourself. Getting a housemate that comes with a cat is a great alternative to getting your own cat (and I'm only halfway joking).

*because prevention is much easier and much less terrible than dealing with an infestation. Prevention is so, so, so much easier than getting rid of them, particularly because once they're there, they'll start eating other things that wouldn't have been enough by themselves to draw them in.

[dduane]

Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

[evitirey]

ok so this was a beast to draw and research good GORD. this one requires a glossary so i'll be putting the entire text under a read more bar, meet me there?

I think most of us in the Avatar fandom have some range of obscure knowledge (or who knows maybe the knowledge is less obscure to everyone else and I'm the silly one) but here's a handful of words I had to learn for this: Chinampa: small, stationary, artificial island built on a freshwater lake for agricultural purposes. Chinampan was the ancient name for the southwestern region of the Valley of Mexico, the region of Xochimilco, and it was there that the technique was—and is still—most widely used. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

Conuco: A portion of earth that the native Tainos of the Caribbean would grow their crops on. (More on that later)

Winnow: In the western world, to remove (something, such as chaff) by a current of air. I specifically based theirs off of a video that @aketchjoywinnie on tiktok posted of her culture's winnows. She is from Uganda and I love her videos whenever they come across my fyp. In this case it is more of a woven basket/plate that is used for food.

As for the drawing:

The Ro'atni have 2 forms of 'floating' gardens. The first and most productive are their chinampas; kind of important to the context is that the Ro'atni were originally a river people, but a portion of their river gave way to an oxbow lake. The young lake has turned into their gardens. The chinampas are made by their swimmers who usually chose their lifestyle very young, as their bodies adjust and grow to adapt underwater better; their strakes go from soft, unobtrusive cartilage to actual strakes, smaller than the reef people's. They dive under water and plant the reedy plants that they then weave together into a roughly rectangular box. Each chinampa is a labor of love that normally takes years to make (though if they feel the next season will not be fruitful they can and will build some quickly). The base layer of the chinampas is essentially a refuse pile. Their compost, their unusable bones, any trash (which is much less than most modern societies) is thrown into the woven reed "basket" to form the solid base along with base stones. The middle layer, still submerged in water, is a combination of compost, mulch, manure, night soil and gravel.

As the compost decomposes, they churn the dirt and build it up over the years until they build above the water level; once the dirt remains relatively dry on a sunny day, and they can dig without immediately hitting mud, they begin to build the conucos on top of the chinampas.

The Conucos are logs stacked up and packed with earth, the shape keeps plants that need dryer soil out of the water, and retains water when the lake starts drying down during the dry season. As the logs decompose they leave behind air pockets for the roots to take up as well as the necessary microorganisms. Most of the weeds are allowed to grow to an extent - once they begin to choke out the plants they want, they will be cut down. The Ro'atni believe that even the most annoying creatures (weeds) have a place in the balance of life. If they're uprooted, they're tossed on shore where they continue to grow. To combat the growth of weeds, they plant a groundcover berry-producing vine that functions as a nitrogen fixer as well as food.

The second form of floating gardens tend to be used for children to learn, as they operate on the principles of aquaponics. The winnow pads are sometimes made specifically for the purpose, but often they're made from a winnow that has reached the end of its life. If it is no longer buoyant, it is tossed into the bottom of a new chinampa. If it is buoyant, then small anchors are tied to the bottom, and a fast growing plant is placed on the winnow to take advantage of the nutrition in the water. Often seedlings for the chinampas are grown this way and transplanted once they're big enough.

Now for the plants they grow; I only had the mental bandwidth to name ONE plant, and I welcome any professional Na'vi speakers to correct me on it lol. So, they grow: Furina'ngrr: Primarily this plant functions as a starchy tuber, but it also grows "beans" (in the way that a coffee bean is a bean but its actually a berry) with a soft outer fruit that the entire clan uses to produce a bright red stain/dye. Combined with red ochre and animal fat, it creates a thick, water resistant body paint that they use both to ward off bugs and to paint pretty patterns and symbols on their skin; certain ones are protective symbols. The fruit can be peeled off of the bean and the beans can be eaten; they're more often replanted to avoid genetic monocropping. They only ripen every 2 years more or less, so the elder gardeners know to stagger their crop growth to accommodate for it. The root however is the main crop from these plants. It is ground into a pulp, seasoned and wrapped in leaves, then either boiled or cooked in a firepit. It's dumpling-like in the firepit, and more like a mochi if its boiled. It can also be fried and baked depending on preparation. The roots can be replanted and this is the quickest way to propagate the plant. They also store for a long time in a root cellar like environment. This is their first source of starch.

Reed-maize: Many different kinds of reeds can be used to create chinampas, but reed-maize is the favored choice; even after their cultivation the reeds remain for a good while before decomposing, giving the gardeners time to grow their replacements, replant them around the chinampas and weave them in again. The reed-maize grow seed pods that can be harvested; they usually require a good strike to release their seeds, which is an adaptation to release their seeds during windy season when the fluffy seeds can fly far away. These were a gift from the Sa'anre side of the clan, and comes originally from the swamps and deltas they traverse; in the oxbow lake the wind is only strong enough during typhoon-like weather to open the seedpods. The seeds release from the pods wrapped in tightly coiled fibers that spring open as they fly out; the fibers carry them on the wind. So the gardeners beat the seed pods open only inside of the hometree or where large structures have been built to catch them. The fibers are hand-ginned off of the seeds, and the seeds are then winnowed free of chaff. The fiber can be processed into cloth, but its very time consuming so they often trade it out to other clans. Other uses are compost mulch, or bedding for their fishing companions. The seeds range in color from soft oranges to gray-blues; an act of love is to separate the specific color seed your child/mate/parent loves most and to make them ground cakes from the singular color. It's extremely time intensive to sort, then grind these seeds separate from all the rest. Normally however, they are stored as grain alongside the furina'ngrr. The grain can then either be processed into flour, "grits", or eaten with minimal preparation. Boiled, they taste both earthy and floral.

Oh my gosh almost done guys lets go. Together with dried and powdered meat, the clan makes a type of pemmican out of their crops; dried roots, dried meat, dried berries and fat are mixed with reed-maize flour, then dried down and stored in their root cellar caves. Their stores are for the long rainy season when hunting is difficult and flooding is common. They have also experienced famine before so they prepare for it again at all times.

Mothers sometimes make the little pemmican cakes into cute shapes for their young ones!

[mamawasatesttube]

"Your hands are freezing." from the prompt list :]

Ma hasn't been sleeping too well lately, since Kal went missing. Now that he's back home, safe and sound in Metropolis, Kon has finally managed to succeed in turning Ma's own gentle-but-firm bullying techniques on her so that she'll actually get some rest, and you bet he's gonna be riding that high for a while.

It's a pretty warm spring day, so Kon decided he'll take the outside chores while Pa handles the inside ones. And he's breezing through 'em pretty fast! He's milked the cows, fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and weeded the kitchen garden, and...

And the entire time, Kal's been in the sky, way up out of sight, staring at him.

At this point, it's getting kinda ridiculous. Kon dumps the last of the kitchen scraps into the compost, washes his hands off at the hose, and leaps into the sky.

The sun buoys him up, full of energy and warmth as the air grows cooler around him. The farmhouse grows tiny under his feet, all the lush fields and farmland sprawling out towards the horizon. His TTK keeps the wind from mussing his hair as he zooms higher (up, up and away, right?), until he zips through a wisp of cloud and slows.

Kal, caught red-handed, gives him an awkward smile, clearly trying not to look too guilty. "Ah," he says. "So you noticed me."

"Uh, yeah, dude." Kon squints at him. His cape flaps behind him in the breeze; he's fiddling with the edge of it with one hand, almost like he's nervous. Since when does Kal get nervous? "You've been watching me for, like, an hour. It's getting freaky, man. What's going on?"

Kal rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. Isn't that wild? Superman, sheepish? What's gotten into him?

"Sorry," he says. "I, just, hm... How do I put this..."

He drifts closer, his eyes never leaving Kon's face. Kon tilts his head to one side, studying him. He looks... tired. Not, like, physically tired—that would be alarming, 'cuz they're in direct sun—but like, tired. Kon heard vaguely about the stuff that happened with Kandor, with Preus, but looking at Kal sets off some alarm bells. He knows what happened, but what happened?

Kal reaches out, and his palm brushes Kon's cheek.

Kon scrunches up his face in mild protest. "Dude, your hands are freezing! How long—"

Kal jerks away as if burned. Horror flashes through his eyes before he wrests it back behind the curtain. "I'm sorry!"

Kon blinks. "Uh... you didn't hurt me or anything." What is going on with Kal? "Your hands're just cold. You've been up here since way before I noticed you, haven't you?"

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Kal's hands. They're cold, but he knows to expect that now; it only takes him a second to focus the energy behind his eyes, to warm them back up. Kal's the one who taught him that trick, just a few months ago, when his heat vision started to come in.

"I've... been here for a while, yes." Kal's voice is oddly soft, almost... fragile. He's staring at their joined hands like they contain all the secrets of the universe, and, uh, wow, Kon is definitely missing something here. "I'm sorry for freaking you out."

Kon's pretty sure Kal's the one who's actually freaked out, but if he says that, he knows Kal will deny it and shoot off back towards Metropolis. "No big," he says instead, and grins wryly. "You may as well come down 'n' come in, though. Pa's making cobbler."

Something eases in Kal's expression, and Kon knows he said something right. Warmth settles into his chest.

"Pa's making cobbler?" Kal raises an eyebrow, glancing down towards the itty-bitty farmhouse far below. "Ma let him?"

"He promised he wouldn't make a mess with the flour this time." Kon grins. "But maybe you better check on him, just to be sure."

A little of the ever-present weight on Kal's shoulders seems to fall away as he smiles. "You do make a compelling argument, Kon-El. Maybe I should."

"I make great points all the time, Kal-El." Kon squeezes his hands, bursting with pride. Kal's approval always makes him feel like he's basking in sunlight all over again. "C'mon, then. Krypto'll be excited to see you, too. And you can bring back treats for Lois!"

"Yes, yes, you've already persuaded me," Kal laughs. He lets go of Kon's hands to ruffle his hair, and Kon squawks in protest, ducking his head. "Let's go."

"Last one home's a rotten egg!" Kon crows, and zooms downward.

He can still hear Kal laughing behind him.

[charlesslut16]

-lovers-

here are the other parts : (1) , (2) 

summary : after the kiss you and charles talk about what is between the two of you...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : badly translated french

note : wrote this, while watching the monaco gp qualifying. Sorry if there are mistakes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stepped away from charles, so your lips couldn't touch anymore. You looked at his face, his eyes, with confusion. What was happening ? Just as you wanted to say something, he interrupted you.

"Y/n I need you to love me, like I love you. I need you to hold on to me, like I hold on to you. I need you to need me. Because this would mean, you can't see the possibility without me. Just like I do with you. "

Speechless. That was what you were. You didn't know what was happening. Just three weeks ago you hated each other, well you didn't hate him, you just thought he hated you. But you were so wrong.

You wanted to say something again, but he put his finder on your lip to silence you.

"You have no idea how far I would go for you, ma jolie fille." charles said, putting a wet piece of your hair behind your ear. My pretty girl.

"Je te donnerais la lune et les étoiles et tout un putain d’univers, si cela signifiait que tu es la femme la plus heureuse du monde." I would give you the moon and the stars and a whole fucking universe, if it would mean you are the happiest woman alive.

In the sky, the clouds started clearing up, as your mind cleared up too, which left you with only one question in your mind. You were stunned. The words charles said, and your heart jumped in your chest.

"You taste like the sweetest drug, mon couer. Like my dearrest addiction" charles growled. "created only for me."

Your breathing started going faster, as you heard his words. Your pulse beating faster by every second that passed. Maybe he was your drug, that you couldn't have enough of.

"God. I can't get enough of you." He rasped. "Everyone says drugs are your death, tell me why I feel so alive when I see you or when I'm with you."

"I... I don't know what to say." you stuttered. "Only that..." you swallowed, took a deep breath and continued. "I think I should go."

Charles bent down to your neck and groaned, as you said that. "You're it for me, baby. It's okay if you're not ready for me yet. Je t’attendrai pour l’éternité s’il le faut, mon coeur." I will wait for you for eternity if I must, my heart. 

"I will wait a lifetime for you if I must." Charles lifted his head to look into your eyes. In them was, confusion, love and most of all, adoration. Then he whispered. "You are worth all the waiting."

At that moment, Charles thought, that was the end. That you had made up your mind and that you didn't want him or the relationship. But then you kissed him. 

You moaned in his mouth when charles pulled you even closer to him.

 "À partir de maintenant, je ne te laisse jamais partir. Jamais. Aujourd’hui, j’ai vu que tu es la seule chose dont j’ai besoin. La course est importante pour moi, mais vous êtes aussi important que la course." From now on, I'm never letting you go. Never. Today made me see that you are the only thing that I need. Racing is important to me, but you are as important, as racing.

You stepped away from his, to say. "Alors, tu vas me demander d’être ta petite amie ou quoi?" Charles chuckled at your aswer, pulling you close to him, pulling your chin up, so you could look at him. So, are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend or what?

"Y/n, mon coeur. Est-ce que tu me donnes l’honneur et que tu es ma petite amie ? " Y/n, my heart. Do you give me the honor and be my girlfriend? 

"I'm not sure. Let me think about it" you answered with a small smirk on your lip, as you saw charles jaw drop.

"oui. I will be your girlfriend, charlie"

Charles composted himself, putted on hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, cradling in the process. You looked in his eyes, seeing happiness. And he looked in yours and saw adoration.

That's when Charles realized, he would do everything for you. No matter the consequences.

[jame7t]

do you know what to do with all these molted cicada nymph shells

Sure, they're not dead, but they still give off the same vibe to me. You know? The empty casings of a spent thing? Dust gathering in the recesses where something used to be? Sure, they're not dead, but they still set off my Necroentomophobia. Fear of dead bugs! Did you know that? Did you know people could be scared of dead bugs? Whatever. It's not the same as being scared of a bug, sure. But I can be scared of a lot of bugs. Sure, little things, like the humble lady bug- not scary. Butterflies, scant as they are, are only off-putting to me. The beautiful moth? Well, I love it, but I don't want to hurt it. It's whimsical, fat body makes me nervous. I don't want to squish it by accident! Because then it would be a dead bug.

And that's worse. It's like, not precisely a direct fear of a dead bug. It won't leap at me in a defiant rage, or be waiting for me around the scary corner. It's more like a shortcut to existential dread. It's a combination of 'ew!' and 'I am going to die one day' and more importantly, if a bug is dead, something has killed it. And you never know if that something is still lurking around. Just kidding. Do you know what a cicada shell is made of? That's right. It's the happy chitin! I don't have an issue with chitin. We're not chitinous beasts, but we have the enzymes to break them down. Humans, that is. This isn't a science fiction piece. This is my blog. I've always thought chitin was interesting though- it's a natural armor made for little guys ostensibly. Little guys in the sense, that it is for bugs only. Well, crabs have chitin, and they can get pretty big- The spider crab can grow over 300 feet in diameter. Just kidding, it can't do that. It's pretty big though. At this point, you'd think: 'Okay- crab reference, and a direct link to the enzymes to break down chitin. Do we eat them? Should we eat the Cicada shells?' Well, I'm not going to. That sounds kind of scary to me. Would you? Would you eat the shell of a thing? I can't imagine it tastes good. I'm eating potato chips right now. They're yummy, and crunchy, and in many ways- the opposite of the humble cicada's false corpse. A lying bug. A lying, cheating, swarming thing. A bug we don't like. A bug we have to deal with. Don't we have to deal with everything? Would it be easier to show less mercy to the little things? It wouldn't, and it would be mean. And that's worse. Anyway, to answer your question, you turn them into mulch, apparently. Or bury them in a hole. Through my research, those were the only two real options we have. There's also 'add them to compost.' So that's three, you have three options. Do you want my opinion? No? Moving on then. There's also a fourth option- a telling one, at that. A sort of 'secret option' lots of people choose. 'Let them decompose on your lawn.' Right? Right, the easy one? Might as well call it 'do nothing.' Doing nothing is always a choice, sure, but when you give me the choice to 'do nothing' in a game, or choose your own adventure, it always seems like a lazy choice on the developer's part. And sure, from your real life perspective, it's probably the easiest. But from a game design perspective? You have to account for the player sitting and watching. What happens if I don't intervene? What happens if I let it continue? Well, in the case of the empty cicada, they stink apparently. I've never noticed it, and we have cicadas here- but I've been lucky enough to never be out in or see a swarm. A predecessor of mine once recalled a story in which the swarm was so bad, you couldn't walk outside without crushing them on the sidewalks "Ew," is what I thought. Maybe they only smell if there's hundreds of them. Thousands? No, probably just hundreds. Not saying they wouldn't smell more if there were lots, I'm saying they probably start being noticeable at around a hundred. Nothing wrong with that. Not sure what the smell is, though. Do you? You should put them in a hole.

[ijwrite]

Female Orc x Female Reader Part 3

It only took a day for you to be healthy again, which was not just a relief to Hakla, but to yourself and your bees. You would probably never tell her, but the rivalry she had with the bees was one of the most entertaining things you had seen in a long time. And little Qarak was growing so fast too. He was constantly trying to walk, and getting frustrated when his little feet couldn't balance his body. He was still a little menace though, you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second before he was gone. He was currently sitting beside you in the garden, snacking on a carrot as you removed weeds. Hakla was slightly off in the distance, throwing weeds in the compost pile. You smiled to yourself. Life had been good lately. Your animals were healthy, your garden were flourishing and most importantly, Hakla and Qarak seemed happy. You felt a little hand smack your side, and looked down at Qarak. He folded his hand repeatedly in the way you thought him.

"You want some water little man? Okay let's go" You lifted him up and brushed the dirt from his pants. You had the idea to teach him some basic signs to communicate before he learned to speak.

"I'm just getting him some water, be right back" you said to Hakla, who hummed in acknowledgement. She had started to trust you more, and seemed much more at ease. She no longer slept with the axe near her, especially after you had made a bed for her. You had felt bad about the way she slept in a cot on the floor, and despite her protests about a proper bed, she slept much more soundly now.

After Qarak had gotten his water, he started fussing. You knew it was time for his midday nap, so you put him in the little crib. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly and you left the hut to continue your work.

Hakla was still outside, looking intently at one of your berry bushes. She reached out for it, but quickly retracted her hand once she heard you approach.

"There should be some of them that are mature" You plucked a bright red berry and held it out to her.

"They taste really good. Especially in pies"

She took it slowly. You plucked another and ate it. She ate hers too.

"You can eat when you want something, you know? That's why it's here" You went back to weeding. In the corner of your eye, you saw her pluck some more berries.

"You sure? Won't we need them for the winter?"

"Nah, I planted the berries purely as treats. You just eat till you can't"

You smiled again. She sighed heavily.

"It is not often I have had sweet things. They mostly gave us bread and meat"

She put the whole handful of berries in her mouth. You straightened up.

"They?" You asked. She tensed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I won't pressure you" it would be a lie to say you weren't curious, but Haklas comfort meant more than that.

"They were the ones I got away from. They were to sell Qarak" She grumbled. You nodded silently. "They made us fight each other. For fun. I got free" She looked down at you.

"I am glad you did. I am happy that you are here" You tried. "My life has been significantly better since you and Qarak entered it" This time, she slightly smiled back.

She truly had a beautiful smile, even when unsure, it seemed to lighten your soul just a bit.

More months went by, and soon it was little Qaraks first birthday. He was getting better at both communicating and balance. He could not talk or walk yet, but he was already much bigger than when you first saw him. As his birthday gift, you decided to make him a swing in one of the large trees at the outskirt of the farm. You actually didn't know the exact day that he was born, since Hakla only had a rough estimate of the time. But that didn't matter, a birthday he would get. So you woke up Hakla and Qarak with the smell of fresh baked fruit pie (which you guessed they both enjoyed, seeing as they both got their entire faces covered with sweet filling).

After you had cleaned the mush of Qaraks (and Haklas) face, you told them to follow you out behind the cottage. A little aways, you had hung your homemade swing yourself during the night (you thought the hardest part would be to crawl up the tree in darkness with the rope, but the real challenge was getting out the house without Hakla waking up. She would be awake at the slightest noise, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise) and happily told Hakla;

"I tied it to a strong branch, so you can swing with him!" proudly gesturing to your work. Hakla just looked at it for a minute and you wondered briefly if you had overstepped.

"You made this for... him and me?" She asked with the thinnest voice you had ever heard from her.

"Well, yes. I hope it okay. I think I made some squirrels angry when I hung it up, and I-" you were interrupted as she hugged your close to her with the arm she didn't use to carry Qarak.

"Thank you" she whispered.

"Of course" you answered.

[gatheringbones]

Hey, I just want to say that I appreciate your writings and resources on abuse & trauma. I'm no-contact with my mother and a year ago she received a diagnosis that she has about five years left to live. This has of course initiated a whole new wave of shitty behavior and attempts to manipulate me, on top of the news itself giving me some really complicated emotions.

I don't know your story but it looks like we've been through some vaguely similar things. I'm sorry you have had to survive this, and I'm grateful for the work you are doing to help us all navigate these rocky waters.

thank you that’s very meaningful for me

I hope you get to go through something similar to what I went through about three or four years of sustained no contact. It was like what happens to heavily irradiated soils once the sunflowers and mushrooms have pulled all the badness up out of the earth. then a number of wonderful things happened to me that made me actually understand a lot of things that came before and the soil became heavily radioactive again and a whole new couple generations of sunflowers and mushrooms needed to do some very heavy lifting. I am wishing you a great deal of compost and consistent watering.

[vitaminseetarot]

Last Quarter Moon PAC: What Are You Harvesting? 🌗🍓🍹

Welcome, one and all, to my last chapter of the four-part moon series! In the beginning, all we had was the seed of potential. We then added some tender love and compost, tending to its stretching stems and budding leaves. We then sat back and witnessed the colorful flower blooming forth, reflecting our work well done.

Now it's finally time to take a look at what will be harvested from this growth. How will it sweeten your life? How will it ensure that more growth can continue to the next month? What blessings will at last be bestowed that will, with careful preservation, last through the winter and beyond?

Take a peek at the three packages of fruit you see down below. These are of the frozen kind so they will last for many smoothies and muffins to come. (Brand names are blotted out for your convenience.)

Pile 1 - Chilly Blueberries Pile 2 - Snowy Strawberries Pile 3 - Frosty Plums

Pile 1

Cards: Four of Swords, Three of Cups, Nine of Cups; Dandelion Wish, Avocado - Prosperity, Scorpio Moon - Camouflage, 6 - Freedom

I guess it works that I called this the Chilly Blueberry pile cause it seems like you're just looking to chill. You've been through the long haul this last month, and for you the growth hasn't come easily. Now you're being greatly encouraged to kick back and relax for the last few days of the season remaining.

You've been spending a great amount of time working on your internal issues. This pile has done some immense shadow work, and perhaps you sense that you're still in the thick of it, laying low and addressing some old fears. These fears may have to do with something you've been wishing and longing for. There's almost a feeling of treating shadow work as a full time job, wanting to purge and clear as much as possible to make room for desires. Which isn't a bad thing! It can be the recommended thing for many people (like one of the other piles, per example wink), but there's also such a thing as overdoing it. Sometimes you get to a place where you've squeezed out every tear cried out and felt the rock bottom of rock bottom, where you're hitting impenetrable bedrock. Pile 1, this is your reminder that you've been doing GREAT work improving yourself, but now it's time to breathe.

You're going to be harvesting peace, relaxation, a chance to decompress and distract yourself with good times. Your friends could be trying to pull you out of the house or into a discord chat -- join them! Don't let yourself get distracted by the heavy emotions at this time. Not all shadow work is productive, like with anything it can be habitual and keep you ruminating in a little loop. You are protected as far as social relations are concerned. You're being given the space to relate your deep inner work with the work others have been doing. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be in the thick of some deep karmic issues, only to find out a close friend or even acquaintance has been going through a similar ordeal.

Right now, even with all the freaky planet shit happening out there, don't think that the next few months will be like your last few. You're gonna undergo a subtle transformation on your own naturally after this harvest. You'll be moving into a place of wish making and abundance. This may even boost your sense of financial freedom. It could be that some of your shadow work involved money, but I'm really getting abundance in general with this pile. You don't have to overwork yourself to get to that place, pile 1, you're already approaching it. There's no need to get a 100% completion rating on your spiritual practice. You're not being rewarded for hard work, you're being rewarded because you're in the right place and time to be receiving the abundance coming for you. The shadow work is to help you get in a better mindset and receive without letting old baggage get in the way. It's not a forever thing.

Pile 2

Cards: Five of Pentacles, King of Pentacles, Page of Cups; Turtle Creek, Strawberry - Affection, Leo Rising - Shine, 5 - Heart Healing

How awesome is it that you got the strawberry card for your strawberry reading?! Maybe you just really like eating them; the card does talk about affection after all! With Leo Rising, I'm feeling that this pile has been really affected by the Leo Venus retrograde. Lucky for you, the planet will station direct in a few days, gradually bringing back in a feeling of overall sweetness to your life like a tide coming in.

It could have been that your self-worth took a small hit in some way. Some things may have happened that tested you just a little too much. You wanted more out of your circumstances, but when you ask and ask your spirit guides and higher self and nothing seems to happen on the surface at the end of the day, that can really wreck confidence over time. You'd hear things like "maybe it's just not meant for you," to which you'd respond, "then what is?" You're about to gain a lot more clarity as to what is for you, and that no matter what your doubts say, pile 2, you deserve this!

That belief is very important--it keeps you from creating blind spots where opportunities lie. I felt relief pulling the King of Pentacles in the middle. The King does not think at all about what he deserves, he simply has it. He listened to that one random shampoo commercial's message "because you're worth it, baby" and stuck to that philosophy for the rest of his life. He needed this confidence because with Pentacles (and as hinted by your Turtle Creek card), success doesn't happen overnight. Sometimes it can be hard to tell if something is going to work out in the long run. We often have to wave our hair around like supermodels and strut our stuff as though we know it will anyway. (I just got "Good As Hell" by Lizzo in my head. You might benefit from pampering yourself a little to remind yourself of your worthiness.)

There's going to be a moment of inspiration that comes to you this harvest, like an artistic idea or emotional epiphany that will flood through your slow moving creek. Page of Cups doesn't see you as really stuck, but will help push you along either way. Your lack mentality is being restored to a fullness mentality, and with this comes a strong wave of emotional resolution. Letting yourself feel the hurt of lack for just a moment in time can help you clear it out of your system to make room for healthier and better feelings that actually stick. You're allowed to set down your doubts for now and be more vulnerable and open to giving and receiving. It may not seem so, but vulnerability is important to creating flow, and flow is when we sense that we are moving with life and not against it, so that naturally things will work out for us. When you're ready to open your doors to life with softness and tender affection, so will the doors to what you've been dreaming of.

Pile 3

Cards: VII Chariot, Queen of Swords, Ten of Cups; Cottage Hill, Watermelon - Fun, Sagittarius Rising - Adventure, 9 - Self Acceptance

Before I flipped over your cards, I looked at the Cottage Hill card and imagined how cozy you've been for the last while, maybe a season or two where you stayed home and felt comfortable. I even channeled a feeling of enjoying old familiar songs and games. Then I turned the cards around and got the exact opposite message!

Your cards are nudging towards pushing yourself out there and taking in the goodness of life without getting muddled in the details. You've been in a state of analysis (paralysis?) for some time, and the only thing you're harvesting, whether you like it or not, is the chance to go out and enjoy yourself. It doesn't have to involve others, it can be just you looking to try something new (maybe rock climbing isn't in your taste, but there are many other things to explore). Forgive me for saying this, but we all know what dried plums are: prunes. And what do prunes help with? Of course, getting things going! The Chariot isn't always a card of traveling, but you are specifically having your travel experiences sweetened this time around. A dash of spontaneity and whimsy has been added to your harvest. There is stuff out there waiting for you to see it and experience it for yourself.

Please don't think that this time to run around and enjoy yourself is a waste of time, pile 3. Do you know how hard it is to want to move ahead when you have 6-8 planets in retrograde? Cut yourself a bit of slack. Being a successful human being doesn't mean never allowing yourself to feel content with the present, especially since for many people being successful means exactly that. You also never know what these greater experiences could bring you in the long run. A good time spent away can be like a shower that prepares you for the next big thing to tackle. It could be hiding blessings in between, waiting for you to seize them.

The Queen is Swords approaches everything with discernment, so you can work with her energy by finding out what sort of thing you would like to do or see next. It doesn't mean planning every single thing out. The best itineraries keep you from getting lost from point A to point B, while also leaving room for exploration. Maybe you'd be interested in joining a computer programming class, for example. It doesn't mean you have to sign up for the full major. Taking things a step at a time can really help you determine what's better for you further down the road. Self-Acceptance card talks about how to deal with our tendency to self-contradict. There's a part of you what wants to move ahead, and part of you that wants to stay put in the comfort zone. Plan out your "itinerary" so you're not caught in black-and-white thinking. If you're feeling the resistance to move, just try it a little at a time. You'll have a lot more fun this way.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[balkanradfem]

I'm looking for a new roommate, so I had to spend a few days cleaning and arranging the apartment to look like a normal person lives there. I'm not just talking about being messy (although I am), but also about all of the ...slightly odd stuff I have going on. Like, piles of nettle drying everywhere, newspapers with seeds drying on every desk, herbs hanging from odd places, my pumpkins, apples, and zuchinni on the floor, my balcony being a drying station, odd plants growing in pots that are absolutely not balcony plants, and then all the tools and resources for my various projects, like bunch of branches on the balcony for making baskets, bags of clay under the desk for my next clay project, bunch of fabric and used clothing meant for sewing.

It's screaming 'odd weirdo lives here' and I have to look at every of these situations and go 'okay, what would a normal person do', so I sigh, gather all my apples and put them in a fruit bowl. Even though I'm absolutely not going to keep my apples in a fruit bowl, are you serious? They're rotting faster in there, they're crushing each other, and I can't see each one individually to know which one to eat first because its going bad. It's colder on the floor so they stay fresh faster! And they're not touching each other there so they can't spread the bacteria if one of them starts being sick.

I put my pumpkins on the counter, put a purple blanket over the couch and my new halloween pillow, put all of my seeds into little envelopes and mark them, store all my jars with preserves in the basement, take the compost to the garden, tell fruit fleas to go elsewhere, change my sheets, wash all the windows and curtains, put up fall decorations, so the apartment looks like an aesthetic and pleasant space where nothing ever gets done except sleeping.

So, I do all that, and I'm supposed to show it to a woman, and I got a call from a 65 year old woman who wondered if I would mind to live with someone her age. And I don't mind! I immediately tell her that age is a non issue and she's welcome to move in if she likes the place. So she comes by train, and I go meet her at the train station to show her around.

I could tell immediately she's of poor health; she's walking slowly and very careful with the stairs, she tells me about her hips problems (which by now I understand all women get), she tells me about various therapies she's been in, how she has heart issues as well, and will maybe get a pacemaker. I'm patient and careful to not walk too fast, I express concern and sympathy for her health issues. She's not particularly listening to me when I speak, she interrupts me to say something else. She tells me she's gotten divorced a few years ago, and I express approval.

She loves the apartment, and assures me she's going to move in. I explain that in order to have the place reserved for her specifically, I'd need her to leave any kind of small deposit of her choice, which I had to feature because lots of people say they're going to move in, and then disappear forever, and I'm in financial trouble if I kept the place reserved. She's irritated that I'm suspicious of her, and I explain I am not at liberty to trust someone's word, because I could get in trouble that way. She combats this by saying this thing is 100% certain because she says so, and I'm insistent on 'we'll see'.

So then I ask, if you are moving in, for how long would you stay? And she looks at me and hesitates, and then tells me she has this boyfriend in America, and they've been talking for 4 years, and he will maybe come for her in a month or so, and then if he decides that she's up to his standards, he might take her back with her. I'm frozen for a second, because that is ... degrading (up to his standards?!) so I go 'okay, so what you're saying is that the future is uncertain' and she realizes that I don't like this entire thing, so she goes 'oh he's 100% not going to come' and now I'm even more confused, because I know that if it was 100%, she wouldn't have even mentioned it. She kept pressing me to believe her word again, but I stayed firm on 'uncertain'.

And I'm just disappointed. I expect women who have lived and struggled and divorced to be wise and sure in themselves! Whenever I get a chance to find a roommate older than me, I dream of the possibilities of learning from her, of asking her about her life and experience and skills and wisdom, but I never manage to find that. Usually women I do try to win over are tangled in some male drama that don't allow them to move forward, and keep them pressed on the idea that the male will resolve their life situations, if only they manage to 'fit his standards', and I know it's not the truth, I know it's not reality. How is the society capable of taking wisdom out of women like this? And their self worth? I can't imagine contemplating if I'm fitting some male standards. Insane that women can be fooled into thinking like this!

So I don't know if the woman will move in or not, but I am worried about having to listen about the ill-mannered american male instead of having her tell me stories about her life and her perspective on it.