#My goal is to write as many of them as I can!!!!

[selenepsyche]

Using the Vertex Persona Chart as a Relocation Chart

In a birth chart, the vertex is a point in the chart that represents fated situations and encounters. Basically, there's no way around it, whether it's a good or bad encounter. No matter what path you are on, you will end up in that situation or meeting that certain someone. I apologize if this sounds scary. This is a very sensitive point and moves fast in a birth chart, so you need your accurate birth time to calculate yours.

Persona charts offer deeper looks into the placements in our birth charts, to get a better understanding of other placements besides the sun. In persona charts, the point or planet is the star and everything else is revolving around it. A vertex persona chart can show you a deeper look of what's fated to occur in your life.

I saw an astrology post on here from a while ago about how you can use your vertex persona chart as a relocation chart and astrocartography chart to see what you are meant to experience in certain locations. Unfortunately, I lost the damn post, but the credit for this idea goes to them. I will tag them when I find it again.

But the idea makes a lot of sense. When I look at mine, I can now see why I was drawn to certain places, why I struggle a bit in my current location, why I have a lot of friends from certain locations, etc.

But first, let me teach you how to generate your vertex persona chart as a birth chart to get your relocation chart and astrocartography chart.

I didn't feel like typing it all out and taking many screenshots, so hopefully this video will help y'all!

A Few Examples

Venus in the 1st House - This location will attract beauty, love, and admiration into your environment. You will embody Venusian qualities more strongly when you move here. Relationships, personal style, and self worth will play a big role in your experience in this location. It can also indicate a boost in attractiveness, social appeal, and a desire to form new connections.

North Node in the 8th House - Your growth in this location is meant to revolve around deep emotional and financial transformations. You will be pushed towards intense experiences that may involve relationships, shared finances, occult studies, or psychological growth. You could meet people who challenge you to face your fears, embrace vulnerability, and evolve spiritually. Inheritances, joint finances, and powerful connections will change your life path.

Jupiter in the 10th House - This location will expand your reputation and career significantly. This will bring major opportunities, status growth, and leadership roles. You will become more well known, respected, and fortunate in your career. You could achieve something big in the public light.

Sun in the 3rd House - Your identity will be tied to learning, networking, speaking, and writing. You will become involved in media, education, or build strong social circles in your local community. You could be active in your immediate environment, commuting and traveling often. This could also indicate a stronger bond with siblings or neighbors in this new location.

Mars in the 11th House - A lot of your energy will be directed towards friendships, social movements, and group projects. You may become involved in activism, networking, and building a strong social presence (could do it online too). There could be conflicts or competitive dynamics within friend groups, but the potential for leadership is big. You may feel driven to pursue big goals through collaborations or technology-related ventures.

Thank you for reading! I will create more parts in the future to do more detailed explanations for placements in the vertex persona chart being used as a relocation chart. In the meantime, if you have questions, feel free to ask of course!

written by: @selenepsyche. do not steal or i'll smite you. entertainment purposes only.

[cheralith]

omg i really love your slytherin!kaiser au. !!!! your writing is so good !! 😋 i was wondering if you would do any other characters for this type of au if so could you do karasu hp au 🫡😈

character ; karasu tabito || wc ; 931 contains/cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, ravenclaw!reader, ravenclaw!karasu, hogwarts!au a/n ; this was sitting in my inbox for awhile and i honestly didn't really know what to write abt despite wanting to, so hope this is ok! another person added to the harem (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

karasu has always been a rather fascinating character to me personally; dare i say he's very relatable in terms of how he finds himself mediocre? so he gets very confused as to why he's sorted into ravenclaw when he first comes to hogwarts, the house known for producing the most extraordinary wizards because he doesn't think of himself as such. he thinks he's a fraud.

it doesn't help that such a mentality worsens over the years. he excels at his subjects, yes, but amongst the house that many of its students at the top ranks of their classes, karasu merely blends in with the rest of them. there's nothing outstanding about him in particular that makes him stand out from the rest of his house.

so he attempts to search for a way. quidditch catches his eye because of the fact that in all the houses, there are only seven people on a team and he thinks by being one of those seven, he'd be able to stand out from the house of three hundred-something people. he tries out in his third year and doesn't make the cut and it discourages him from trying again in his fourth because if he can't even stand out in tryouts, how the hell was he suppose to make a name for himself if he'd ever make the team?

what makes him destroy that mentality is when he meets you. early in the fifth year, you're in his group for care of magical creatures, where you pick up on his ability to tame animals just by knowing their weaker, vulnerable points. tells you to press on the side of a hippogriff's neck to help calm it down when he sees your tense on your first ride and that the beast could sense it.

you're discussing about the most recent loss ravenclaw incurred from slytherin during a class break, karasu listening intently. you complain that their newest chaser, chigiri hyoma, was an insane weapon on the field, for his speed was incomparable to the others on your own team and what you've seen in the past.

karasu, who was watching the game at the time, tells you that you should've been more perceptive, that you're the upcoming captain, aren't you?

when you furrow your brows and question what he means by that, disapproving of his tone, he merely tells you that you missed a crucial point in the game that would've obliterated slytherin's newest weapon. that chigiri hyoma can't ride for long periods of time since it puts a strain on his back that he suffered an injury on awhile back due to the resisting air pressure.

"yeah, sure, he can definitely fly fast," he says, waving a nonchalant hand, "but he can only do it when he's about t'score a goal. if y'were able to pick that up earlier, ya could've made sure that he exhausted himself faster."

karasu notices your wide-eyed staring after he finishes his ramble of possible tactics you guys should've done against the other players, pointing out some of their key weaknesses. he asks you harshly, "what?" and despite his sharp tone, your eyes just continue sparkling at him.

"have you ever thought about trying out for the team?" you ask him excitedly.

he frowns and picks at his fingernails, head down in shame. "tried to. in my third year," he mutters. "didn't get in."

"well," you start giddily, thinking you found a diamond in the rough. "one of our old beaters had to step down due to an injury... we're hosting tryouts soon for his replacement."

karasu catches your drift and is quick to turn it down, not wanting to embarrass himself like last time. "no thanks. i'm good."

"but!" you protest, "we could use someone like you. someone who's really analytical. all of us are a lot stronger on a physical sense, but you seem to really have the nail on the head of our opponents. imagine what you could do!"

"... i don't have much experience playin' quidditch," he admits, scratching the back of his heating neck, "i don't think i'd be able to do well as the others."

you bite your lip, trying to think of what to say to him. you suddenly think of a plan that may be just a tad bit unfair to the others that would want to try out, but you think karasu could really be an amazing addition to the team with analytical skills that could compare to a familiar prodigal redhead's.

"i probably shouldn't be doing this but," you beckon him with your hand and whisper into his ear, "i could practice with you. just so you can get a solid grip on the play."

he thinks despite the colder weather, he's heating up a little too fast for his sake when your voice sends shivers down his spine.

you pull back with an excited smile on your face as the professor tells everyone to gather together again.

"i'm serious, think about it," you say to him as you begin to walk off to join some other friends of yours. "we'd love to have someone as extraordinary as you on the team."

you throw him a thumbs up just before you run off, leaving karasu dazed with your voice echoing the one word he's been desiring to attain the status of for years now in his mind.

"extraordinary, huh..." he murmurs with a soft grin, staring at the back of your figure when you chat and laugh amongst your friends. "someone like you sayin' that to someone like me... that's pretty funny."

[gulpchulp]

my goodness some of y’all are exhausting when it comes to Gemma

People really wanting kids is very very common in a lot of circles. Probably less here on tumblr or reddit but amongst others just out in the world, stuff like fertility issues is a huge deal. A lot of people start to feel inadequate when they struggle with fertility although they really shouldn’t. But I think it makes people hurt because they feel like their body isn’t doing a thing that it should be able to do and feel like it is stopping them from reaching their goals.

Additionally, just because someone cares about their career (like Gemma) doesn’t automatically mean they don’t want kids. People can want both AND people can struggle with that. Especially women as they are often shoved into a box of ‘needing to choose one or the other’ (like i have seen some people on here say) when these two things can exist side by side. Wanting kids doesn’t ruin your career or mean that you have lost all ambition, it just means you want to be a parent.

And on top of that I really do not think at all that Gemma voluntarily left to do some random treatment retreat thing. I think that is a misinterpretation. Now maybe I am wrong and if I am sorry in advance but the way I see it is that Lumon took her. They faked her car accident the night she was going out, they had probably waited for a situation like that so they could take her (at night, alone). Yes her and Mark were having trouble but again this is very common amongst the general population. Relationships can have rough patches, you are just people and people are emotional and reactive (to different extents depending on the individual).

Honestly Mark and Gemma’s marriage stuff didn’t seem that unusual to me. I mean they weren’t in a great place but it was in a very normal way, a way that happens to a lot of people. That doesn’t mean that it is automatically great and that the way they were communicating with each other was amazing and is what should have to happen in a relationship but they were in a dark place. But I think that they were both stressed and tired of working towards a goal they presumably both wanted.

It was disappointing and stressful and when people are stressed they snap and they say or do things that they wouldn’t otherwise. Like Mark, who pulls away and gets snarky when confronted with pain or grief, he runs away not because he doesn’t care but because he does, too much. So I don’t think him and Gemma stopped loving each other and that she would run away to Lumon because they were having trouble. (I honestly don’t even think it would have ended in divorce or anything though that happens a lot too).

I get that pregnancy and birth plot lines are not for everyone, but I think it is narrow minded to write it off as a cop out or bad writing. Pregnancy plots and discussion of children and family’s have always been in the show, they just weren’t the main focus. And this was just one part of one episode. Gemma exists as a person outside of wanting a child, half the time we see her she is not worried about that at all, she is too busy being tortured. And yet many of you have latched on.

I think that sometimes in people’s discomfort with traditional societal norms (for a lack of a better term) they end up leaning into the toxic side of them. You allow Gemma’s desire to be a mother to overshadow all other things occurring and ridicule the show for including it. You blame her for her own torture and you think that if a couple ever struggles they do not love each other. You blame Gemma for everything happening in the marriage as if it wasn’t Mark buying the crib and later taking it apart.

Anyway yeah imma need people to start thinking critically in regard to Gemma cause these takes are some of the worst I have seen.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Stats Sunday

Happy March!! Thanks for the tag @nausikaaa! Unfortunately, my goal is to make this banner worse every month, so be prepared—we've only just begun.

Early post for me. I should be sleeping but I started making my graphs and then... well, here we are.

Here's my February Recap loll. Stats and graphs and musings incoming. (this post is so long but i promise there's a snippet in here)

Rest of post is under the cut. It is long. You've been warned.

I've posted two things last month! A valentine's day fic for Ebb/Fiona and Chapter 3 of the Way We Are. (Technically i posted 3 but this stranger things oneshot was posted on the 1st and written in January so it feels like January's accomplishment)

Total words written for February: 14405 (this beats Jan by 460 words!)

Days I met my writing goal (200 words): 20

Days I didn't write or edit anything: 4

Day I wrote the most: Feb 11th with 2249 (this beats last month's high score of 1717!)

Number of Fics worked on: 10 technically, but i have not been consistent with most of them. mainly worked on 3.

Daily Average: 514 words (but like last month i am highly inconsistent and my WC varies wildy depending on the day)

(I really like the little curve in the middle. also two the days that look like zero are actually 1 words, which is my placeholder if i spend all day editing)

And here's a pie chart to show my WC distribution across projects. Tbh a lot of these were fics that i've had in my fic ideas doc and all i did was make a google doc for them and word barf onto it my ideas, that's why there's so many small slices.

some slices are so small you don't even get to know my placeholder names. also i hope the title THTHIPWGI intrigues you, i'm always excited when i can title a fic right away and refer to it by a fun accyromn on my spreadsheet.

Other notable things from February:

I finished writing all of The Way We Are!! (kind of. i have one more scene to write. Monica's fault.)

I took over the @carry-on-sapphic-week event!! Check out the prompts if you haven't yet <3

I've received So Many beautiful valentines from the CO discord servers exchange. my mailbox and my heart has been full

The CO fandom was able to raise $500 for Fandom Trumps Hate!! (and I got to make a spreadsheet bc of this!!!) (also i won two auctions from this, one for each fandom i'm in)

My car battery died and I had to get a new one :/

I started a new journal!

I finally figured out how to spell February

my savage worlds campaign finally got our ship back and made it off this stupid planet that we've been on forever.

i've started watching Yellowjackets and I'm really enjoying it

I read so many CO AU fest fics and each one of them was so good. I think i've read all except one so far, and honestly this fest has been so fun i'm obsessed with you guys, you're are so talented.

SPEAKING of CO AU fest fics, @fiend-for-culture's fic, Everything In Between, is SO good, i've been thinking about it all week. you should read it (and leave a comment so i can read it bc i'm stalking the comments on this fic and there's not enough to sate me)

i have spring break in just one week!!

Okay, i promised you words, so here's a snip from my COBB.

“And I’m sorry,” Simon says. “For what?” “Driving you off yesterday.” “That wasn’t your fault. I was being terrible.” “Yeah,” Simon agrees. “But I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that.” I make a face. “I’m not having a heart-to-heart with you, Snow.” Simon groans. “Why do you have to do that?" "What" "Everytime I think we're making progress you say something nasty like that."

sorry this post is so long, thank you for reading if you made it this far

tags, hellos, and apologies:

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @artsyunderstudy @arthurkko

@beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog @best--dress @bookishbroadwayandblind @bookish-bogwitch

@the-beard-of-edward-teach @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cccloudsss @ciescen @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla @drowninginships @facewithoutheart @emeryhall @fiend-for-culture

@hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @theimpossibledemon @jyae23

@larkral @lovelettersto-mars @meanjeansjeans @m1ndwinder @monbons

@noblecorgi @orange-peony @prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple

@run-for-chamo-miles @rbkzz @shrekgogurt @simonscones @skee3000

@supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @toc-the-scrambled @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

added some new ppl to this tag list, feel free to share a wip you're working on—art, fic, etc. it does not have to stats like mine is loll. i use wipsdays as my soapbox.

[vacantgodling]

hey, it's btaf's first birthday, so i'm releasing part of draft 3 in celebration. for those who are unaware of how i'm writing this wip right now, each stage of the process is broken down into multiple 'drafts', with draft 3 being the first one where i am actually writing the first round of prose. it is a bit messy, inconsistent, and not fully historically sound (that's what drafts 4 & 5 will eventually be for) but my goal for now is to set the mood, tone, and add more dialogue, as well as once again expand on the previous two drafts! this isn't the entirety of act 1 (i still have so much more to write) but i figured i would give out a little sneak peak to gague reaction, vibes, and as a little thank you to everyone who's been on the journey so far with me as i find my way through what will be an eventual behemoth of a novel <3 no tw's apply (yet), just enjoy that sweet sweet long pondered over prose! for those who come across this while scrolling, welcome! you can find a summary of btaf here -> (x). without further ado though:

ACT I: THE HOUSE OF DEAR EDUARD

Casavantes Gaztelura, Basque Countryside — August 14th, 1811

The cruelest and craftiest of all the Devil’s handiwork—darkness—had descended upon and laid waste to the countryside. 

Beneath the canopy of towering conifers, thunder cracked; its bull-whip baritone lashing out against the blackened sky. Lightning, its more agile sister, leapt up from her tenuous slumber to dance between the thick cover of clouds that stretched wide across the haloed firmament above. 

The air of this region was impossibly stuffy and hot—linen stuck to the breast and strangled the throat if one’s buttons were too tightly closed. It was the common fashion to leave shirts open and hanging about the trousers or down the shoulders, at least, if there was no one about to witness it—so your nakedness could not bear sin and affront God. Yet, the slick stick of sweat was the least of the concerns of the travelers in the small caravan that was making its way north along a long forgotten tread. The former inhabitants of this land had carved this place to their desire and the faded path cut through the remnants of ruins on either side of its muddied walk. It was easy to imagine that many centuries before the present time—the seventh month of the good year of the Lord, 1811—that armies marched through these parts; perhaps to confront a disgruntled warmongering lord, or, perhaps a bishop traveling from a distant, far off land to christen a newborn babe of a powerful house. But none of the power and prestige of this land was left here. What ought to have been forts and bastions were crumbling and abandoned; weathered and withered away to time immemorial; their true purpose and nature lost to Antiquity. 

So too did their caravan look out of place in this dreary countryside; no trunks or provisions did they carry in the back of their covered carriage. No food or wine did they gnaw upon, though it could be argued they were not keen to have it moistened by something other than the saliva of their mouths, as a steady rain beat down upon them borne of the battle raging above. No weapons did they carry—never mind the rumors of bandits that crawled through the area like a particular infestation of gnats or fleas—nothing else on their persons except for the clothes on their back. It was hard to imagine what trials they may have faced, from wherever they had been wandering before they ended up in this evil part of the Basque. 

Two travelers there were: countenance grim between them, and not a single word spoken. As the thunder and lightning above them danced and cackled amongst itself; they were silent as church-mice, or recently scolded children who had nothing more to say, lest they be popped once again in the mouth. 

The person holding the leading mare’s reins—with youthful, elegant fingers, befit of a pianoforte player—was a woman of an olive complexion, which appeared darker by the deepness of the night that entrenched them. Her nose sat proudly and regally at the center of her face, with an elegant slope; a nose fit for royalty, her attire a complement of it: a fitted men’s riding frock of a thick tweed was affixed about her torso, shielding her from the worst of the elements. Glimmering, solid gold buttons shone in the darkened night; a symbol of her class, perhaps, but they hardly shone as brightly as something new, caked with days old mud or debris from the long journey. The shirt beneath her jacket was partially undone and the ties that keep it shut laid brazenly across the planes of her chest; such a display scandalous for a woman of any age, but especially for one at the age where men would turn their gaze down and betray God’s commandments to liken upon the soft curvature of supple skin and imagine how it would feel beneath their palm. Little flecks of moles dotted her bosom, and up to her slender neck; it would be worth the assumption that these little constellations follow her entire physique, but such observation of her lower form was obstructed by a heavy woolen skirt, which was bogged down only just by the rain. It was hard to make out any designs or patterns of it, but what little could be observed was that its hem, the same as the soles of her riding boots, was caked in the same mud that trampled ‘neath the mare that mushed their caravan. Her dark eyes glimmered eerily in the dark with another pass of lightning and she turned them to glance upon the passenger astride her, situated just to her left in their small charge. Close enough they were to touch but there was some invisible barrier there, in the scant space that their shoulders occupied, they dare not brush. Her shoulders were sloped, as her nose; regal and relaxed in her stature in a state of unbotheredness. Her companion’s however; were bunched. 

The man beside her was of an even darker complexion than she; rich, black skin that hid him in plain sight among the shrouds of darkened twilight. His nose was wide, his shoulders, wider, and his lips were plush; near feminine as were the dark lashes that framed his eyes, and fluttered in the wayward breeze like an angry shadow shivering in the backdrop of a plain wall. Water clung to the man and his clothes, drenching him to the bone and allowing the chill to settle deep into every seam and stitch he bore. It worked it's unsettling magic on his skin, it gleamed ‘neath the moon as it brushed it with its watchful gaze. These same droplets stood to attention across the kinky waves that fell loosely into his eyes and that gently cupped his face. His hair was long overdue for a haircut and stringy at the ends; rarely any a tempered folk would allow their tresses to see such a manner of unruliness; especially for those of the same hair texture as he, but he wasn’t tempered; couldn’t be. Some invisible tension gripped him taught; the space he could wriggle away from it was as thin as the space between himself and the caravan driver; as thin as the sliver of moon that cut through the night and shone upon his dark eyes; eyes dark as the abyss, and all the emotions that man could comprehend swallowed within them—the ones that lay repressed, deep within the cavity of the soul, and so too the ones that lay unabashedly bare, even if one ought to hide them. It was hard to tell if the wetness of the rain was what created the thin tracks of lighter skin between the mud that stuck to his cheeks, or if it were tears that even now glimmered unshed in the uneven lighting of midnight. Where the woman’s hands cradled the reins limply, only to guide the mare hence; the man’s hands gripped tightly into his dingy white trousers, of a similar kind and make befitted to those who’d serviced the great Napoleon, Emperor of Europe in his many battles of glory and soon, lore. Where his fingers breached the fabric it had begun to hole and fray. The jacket he wore was of a similar kind, with more holes and wear besides. Further unsettling was the dried and caked blood that clung to it, as a child clings to their mother. Both the jacket and the trousers seemed hardly fit to wear on any person, let alone one as large as the man who sat astride the elegant lady at the reins. It hardly contained him, yet also seemed to be the only thing preventing him from fully cascading apart.

As unlikely a pair they were, as thunder was to lightning, they sat amongst their own company; more silent than the unmarked graves they passed, and more weary than the dead who kept them.

After an undetermined passage of time, the caravan’s path was halted by a barrier, wrought with stones and iron, and held up only by what remained strong through passes of erosion and time. It was latched upon its outer side by a great bar; which should seem odd to ordinary folk. A gate’s purpose should be to protect and hold fast sanctuary of the occupants behind its grandeur, for the sake and protection of them thereof; not to keep them in. What horrors should the traveler’s find behind such a gate? This strange sight did not perturb either of them; though it was the woman who exited the carriage first. She hopped down into the deep mud, entrenching the hem of her woolen skirt into it as she sunk down into the moist, softened earth. She paid this no matter, then trudged through its wet, grabbing hands until she reached the iron-wrought gate. It towered over her—and she was a woman of stature herself. Still, she rolled back the sleeves of her coat and grasped hold of the iron bar with one hand. The metal groaned beneath her dexterous fingers; leaving a noticeable indenture and with ease, she swung the bar up and open. It crashed loudly to the other side of the gate from whence it was swung, and with her hand, she gently pushed the iron gate open, as though it were no heavier than a feather. It creaked on its age-old hinges but slowly gave way, and once the woman was satisfied with the opening she’d made, she returned and remounted the caravan seat next to her companion, who seemed just as unmoving as the statues and rubble around them.

She was the first to break the heavy quiet of the night, and the precursor to her voice was a tight lipped gesture with her lips, that in any ordinary situation ought to have been a smile. It was hard to tell if it were; or if it was a barely disguised grimace. 

“We’re almost there now, Sjaak.” She said softly. Sjaak did not reply, and when met with his silence, the woman sighed, taking hold of the reins once again. She flicked them gently and the mare pulling the caravan began to walk once more. She did not bother getting out to close the iron gate behind her, leaving them exposed to whatever else lurked in the pitch darkness behind them. 

A large, foreboding manor revealed itself to view; only visible perhaps, by the moonlight which finally made its bleak appeal through the stormy night sky; a spotlight on an elegant, if crumbling, time capsule of old. Gothic in style were its high and lofty ramparts, yet the many roofs of the structure were humble slopes of traditional Spanish terracotta, and the façade a distinct pattern of Isabelline plateresque; delicate baubles beaded in intricate patterns framed the balconies of darkened rooms, further obscured by the darkness of the entrenching night, their appearance enunciated by high pointed arches and hand crafted, spiraling rails that sought to bereft the living of an untimely demise. The central-most point of the manor, hidden acutely behind a large fountain of braying horses with one of their heads lobbed clean off and nowhere to be seen amongst the cobbled court, was a large wood and brass door, deep-set into the façade and surrounded on three sides by carved stone. In the usual style, perhaps heralds would be depicted, denoting a particular clan or class, or on cathedrals, scenes of the Bible or the holy works, such as that of Christ. But here there was no such enchantment. The stone winding the door was carved in Arabic, unusual for the time that this structure was hence erected, and a script that neither traveler seemed to heed or recognize. If they had, perhaps they would have read BEWARE, A TOMB OF SORROWS LIES HERE.

She did not bring them directly to the entrance and instead, guided the mare gently around the outside edge of the fountain and onto a beaten off path, trenched in mud, moistened from the rain still cascading around them. It was a temporary stable house, until a valet could come and guide the caravans and their steeds to a well-equipped carriage house and was hidden behind one of the large towers. Vines draped and wound over the archways of the structure. The roof groaned beneath the weight of water that had pooled in its bows, dripping and pooling into several buckets that were scattered around to catch the waves of the worst areas; rusted, but still usable. The woman dismounted from the caravan, then made her way to the other side. She stopped first, to unhook the mare from the caravan, whispering to it a few words of soft praise and rooted around in the large pockets of her frock for a few grains, which she then fed to the sweet beast. The mare accepted them with a whinny of pleasure, then lowered its neck to allow the woman to unhook the bit and bridle from round its great neck. 

Once this was done, she continued on her path until she stood just two steps down from where the man, Sjaak, was still sitting in place. Sheltered from the light of the moon, it should’ve been too dark to apprehend his position, but clear as day, the woman reached out to gently jostle his knee. This roused him. He sat up straight with a small start. 

“Have… have we arrived?” His voice creaked, common from lack of usage—as surely the two of them were quiet on their journey for quite some time—and in the dark, the woman nodded. 

“Do you think you can stand to see her?” 

A wind howled through the night just outside of the temporary shelter, rattling the handles of the rusted buckets, ruffling the needles of the conifers surrounding them, and seeped deeply into the countenance of Sjaak who jumped again, grabbing suddenly hold of the carriage with ashen knuckles—so tightly that the wood of the caravan creaked under his fingers, splintering. 

“It was only the wind.” The woman soothed. She squeezed Sjaak’s knee. “I do not wish to leave you out in the cold.” 

The woman gently took hold of Sjaak’s hand, prying it from its iron grip, as easily as she’d thrown the iron bar on the gateway only moments before. On shaking knees, Sjaak descended from the caravan, landing with an ungraceful thump by the woman’s side. Laws of propriety should have he lead her down from the carriage, but she did not seem to pay this any mind, as her companion still looked as though he’d chanced the sight of a ghost.

“We did not come all this way for my fright to claim the better part of me.” Sjaak said this, mostly to himself. He heaved in a large breath, then exhaled mightily, sending the wind back from whence it came. He turned his head to regard the woman, squeezing her hand for a long moment, then he released it. Aloud, he continued;

“I have longed to see her for many years—to learn what has become of her. Is she still as beautiful as I recall? As mirthful as a newborn fawn and as gentle as a babbling stream? Does her laughter still shame the cathedral bells, is her smile still sublime as a summer evening’s glow? Such were the thoughts I have thus pondered; from the evergreen fields of the Netherlands, that which she and I once called home, to the battlefields that have spirited me far hence. ‘Ere these dark times you detailed came to pass, I should have rushed upon the steps of this grand estate, ran through any foyer or obstacle, and thrown myself at her beautiful, unblemished feet to kiss them and repent my long absence.” He paused, a howl once again piercing the night. His expression darkened.

“... But as such times have… I hardly know if I am prepared to behold her in her current visage—should it truly be as horrible as you say.”

“What troubles you will not be put to rest when I guide you to her.” The woman’s voice was but a flickering candle’s flame. “I fear it could be even worse than either you or I imagine—as it has been near a year since I have laid eyes upon her myself.” Still, she set her path forward, and with little other option, Sjaak tarried for a moment, then slowly followed behind. 

They made their way across the worn cobbled path, back to the grand fountain and entrance to the manor, climbing its formidable steps one by one. They stopped before the threshold together, shoulder to shoulder as they were in their caravan and after a long stretch of a moment, the woman squared her shoulders then reached for the handle of the great brass door, grasping it with a only minute tremble of her palm. Then, she heaved; drawing the door back towards her. A baritone roar bellowed, cleaving the sounds of the storm above them in two. Stone squealed and metal groaned joining together as one echoing force to draw the formidable bowels of the deepest abysses of Hell opened before them. An overwhelming aura of dread coated them each in a layer of terror-laced tar; feathering them with the designs and marking them with premonitions of some long forgotten evil that should never have been released.

“Ongi Etorri.” A voice slithers from within. “Casavantes Gaztelura.”

“Come.” The woman utters, and it is forced. “To your Biscella, within.”

[interstellarlyinlove]

Fall (October 2nd)

word count: 464

@wolfstarmicrofic

“It’s just how it is, you know?” Sirius whispers. In their dark and large bedroom, it feels like he’s talking to himself. He stares at the ceiling above him and sighs. “I can’t really help it. It’s not like I woke up one day and just decided to make my life a hundred times harder by loving my friend.”

“Salazar knows you love to make things harder for yourself, Sirius,” Comes Regulus’ voice a few seconds later, low and soft, from the lower bunk of their bed. 

“Very funny, Reggie.” If Sirius is being completely honest, he’s not sure how he’s speaking to Regulus at all right now. The same Regulus that professionally ignores him when they’re at Hogwarts. Sirius thinks it would be infinitely harder for Regulus to pretend Sirius doesn’t exist when they’re back at home and share one bedroom.

He’s not necessarily complaining, though. He misses his little brother more than he can admit even to himself. 

Sirius also doesn’t know when he decided to flat-out tell Regulus about his feelings for Remus. It sort of just came out of his mouth a couple of nights ago when the silence between them became a little too suffocating for Sirius.

He can’t say he regrets it, though. It feels good to have it in the open, not to be the only one who knows. His feelings weigh less on his shoulders after sharing them with someone else for the first time. No one knows. No one can know, especially not when Sirius himself doesn’t even half understand what he’s feeling. But Regulus isn’t just anyone, he’s his brother, and Sirius hates that he somehow forgot that these last few years. 

“I guess this could be worse,” Regulus says after a while. “Remus is quite alright. His scars are hot.”

“Regulus.” 

“Isn’t being brave your entire thing?” Regulus asks. “Why not just rip the band-aid and tell him already? Or are Gryffindors really all talk no walk cowards?”

Sirius scoffs. “As if. Says the person who would not sleep on the top bunk because he’s too scared to fall.” 

“You couldn’t pay me to sleep on the top bunk, brother,” Regulus says seriously. “And this isn’t about me, anyway. This is about you being too much of a pussy to-”

“But it’s not that,” Sirius interrupts. He sighs. “It’s just that– Remus is my friend.”

“Okay.”

“I would never do anything to hurt that friendship.” Sirius shakes his head. “It– it means too much to me.”

“That’s sweet, actually,” Regulus says awkwardly. 

Sirius laughs despite himself. “Thank you, Reggie.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything for a long while and Sirius thinks he’s asleep but he startles when he hears Regulus whisper, “Merry Christmas, Sirius.” 

Sirius smiles. It must be past midnight. “Merry Christmas, Reggie, love.” 

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

So we know that Wei Wuxian's treatment after his death was horrible. Even if nothing could impact him directly, there was still neverending slander, hatred, misinformation, theft...

But, for a while after he died, the sects did try to impact him directly – namely, frequently trying to resummon his soul. And today I'll explore the possible reasons for this, their likelihoods, and why I'm so, so thankful that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the summons. Because, spoiler alert (or, you know. maybe not)... none of them are good.

(Long meta ahead)

In my opinion, there are four likely motivations for this: confinement, coercion, torment, and potentially destruction.

Out of all of these, confinement is probably the most likely motivation, at least for most sects (Jins and Jiangs excluded, though it was likely what the Jin sect said their motivations were – but I'll get to them later). This one is the most simple – we know spirit-trapping pouches exist, and we know the sects also placed 120 stone beasts on the Burial Mounds to prevent Wei Wuxian's soul from escaping. Therefore, this seems to be the most likely motivation – and fortunately for Wei Wuxian, probably also the best case scenario, though it still certainly isn't a good one.

For the second, coercion – this is where the Jin sect come in (more specifically Jin Guangshan with the help of Jin Guangyao). Due to their wealth and resources, they're likely the sect who played the largest role in the soul-summoning rituals. We know what they're willing to do to try to gain power – keeping Wen Ning under the pretence he was burned to death and trying to control him with the nails, and working with and helping Xue Yang torture people to help him refine his demonic cultivation, in order to have the Yin hufu fixed. Along with working with many other cultivators, alongside Xue Yang – Jin Guangshan really, really wanted that seal.

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources and these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

(Note that working with these cultivators very likely happened after Wei Wuxian's soul had failed to be summoned, since this happens some time after Wei Wuxian's death, whereas the soul-summoning ceromonies presumably started happening very close to it.)

In the previous paragraph, he's also quoted as having 'lusted after' the Yin hufu, which we already knew but it's nice to have a direct quote as evidence.

Now, would Wei WuXian willingly work with the Jin sect in doing this? No. We know that, and, given Wei Wuxian's actions in his first life (refusing to hand over the Tally, not being afraid to stand up to the sects, etc), I’m pretty sure Jin Guangshan knows that, too:

He beat around the bush a couple of times, using all his skills, yet Wei WuXian didn’t give in no matter what, and it made him run into a bunch of obstacles. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

So this could actually make things go two ways. One, I'm wrong and that wasn't actually part of the Jin sect's motivations, since they know they wouldn't be able to control him (and in that case, had they managed to summon him, I could imagine them putting him in a spirit-trapping pouch and doing something similar to what Jin Guangyao did to Nie Mingjue's head. Which, also, not good). Two, it was a part of their motivations, and they hoped to find a way around that. After all, there are other guidao users out there now, and Wei Wuxian would now be a gui*. Also, cultivators can obviously harm ghosts – see the very existence of Night Hunts, and I'd include Xue Yang's talisman-caused destruction of A-Qing as well (while he isn't a traditional cultivator, talismans can be used by everyone).

Now, would either of these methods actually work? I'm inclined to think not really (and I expand on the former method in a note below). Would that stop Jin Guangshan/Jin Guangyao/the cultivators they employ from trying? Especially considering Jin Guangshan's lust for power?

I'm inclined to think no, too.

For the third, look no further than Jiang Cheng's reputation of capturing and torturing demonic cultivators after Wei Wuxian's death, due to thinking they could be him. And this does happen – Jin Ling knows and talks about it, and there's not real motivation for him to negatively lie about someone he loves. Also, when they come across each other at Dafan Mountain, we're told this in Jiang Cheng's inner voice:

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. - MDZS Chapter 10, EXR translation

This mainly shows that he's tortured people before, rather than that he's tortured people because he thinks they're Wei Wuxian, but this reason is confirmed by Jin Ling in Chapter 24. Of course, the reason is also mentioned in this chapter, and there are other moments in the chapter that illustrate my point better**, but they come from second-hand sources which I know are easier to deny. Do take note of Jiang Cheng's expression both times he comes across 'Mo Xuanyu' (after he suspects he's Wei Wuxian) in Book One***, though:

After a moment, the corners of Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand started to unconsciously stroke the ring [Zidian] again. He spoke softly, “… Well, well. So you’re back?” - Chapter 10, EXR Although his face had always been clouded, marked with arrogance and satire, it seemed as if every corner of it had come alive. It was difficult to determine whether it was vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy. - Chapter 23, EXR

This does seem to line up with what people say his attitude to Wei Wuxian is – there doesn't seem to be any happiness at seeing him again at all. The only time a word that could suggest that ('ecstasy') is used, it's accompanied by 'raving', and considering the context and the other possibilities of his expression, it's... probably not due to happiness at being reunited.

So, considering 1) this, 2) his contribution to the Siege specifically intended to kill Wei Wuxian, and 3) that at the time of frequent soul-summoning Jiang Yanli's death would be even closer for him, I feel pretty confident in saying that yes, this is likely a motivation for the Jiang sect in trying to re-summon Wei Wuxian's soul after his death. And, as mentioned earlier, cultivators can harm ghosts (and we know Zidian is able to remove souls posessing a body from that body, and that Jiang Cheng used Zidian on 'Mo Xuanyu' in Chapter 10. If it wasn't able to restrain/harm ghosts, or other methods weren't able to, why would he risk Wei Wuxian's soul escaping?).

And finally, option four: destruction. We're heading into much more speculative territory here, so don't consider this on par with the first three. But consider this:

We know there are some spells, like Xue Yang's talisman used on A-Qing and the body-offering ritual, that can ruin the returning soul’s reincarnation cycle by destroying it. Therefore, soul destruction is possible.

The 'main'/supposed reason for summoning Wei Wuxian's soul back is to stop the "cultivation world, or even all of mortal land" from being "faced with the most insane damnation and revenge, sinking into nothing but chaos and despair" when Wei Wuxian inevitably returns. While, as mentioned above, I severely doubt this is the motivation for certain sects – and to me is likely a rumour which the Jins (again, especially Jin Guangsha) fanned the flames of to justify summoning Wei Wuxian back for their own purposes**** – there are other sects which would take it more seriously.

Although likely disrespectful, people already thought it served Wei Wuxian right to die without his body intact by the time of the second siege – something believed to negatively affect your reincarnation in your next life*****. This is only the logical next step, and I'm pretty sure the vast majority of people would believe that, again, it would serve Wei Wuxian right, or would at least lead to less harm of the world in the long run.

For these reasons, I could definitely see this as an option for some sects, especially the sects who consider themselves more 'righteous' (cough cough the Nies under Nie Mingjue cough cough). After all, evil is evil and good is good, and the evil deserve what's coming to them. And what better way to prevent that than from preventing his soul from returning at all? So for the Nie sect – and likely some of the smaller sects involved in the Siege, since among them, additudes probably vary – yes, I do think it could be a motivation.

I’m not as sure about the Lans being willing to go this far, and that’s largely for two reasons. One, Lan Wangji’s presence and his relationship to Lan Xichen, who does (not always, but he does) let this affect how he treats Wei Wuxian. An example of this is that, when Wei Wuxian's return is made public, Lan Xichen does let him hide and shelter at the Cloud Recesses instead of trying to pursue him, likely majorly due to Lan Wangji. I'd argue that the aftermath of the Nightless City also acts as an example of this, although it definitely isn't perfect. But though he, Lan Qiren and the 33 elders do come to find Lan Wangji and do not let him continue to shelter Wei Wuxian (after they see Lan Wangji's feelings), Lan Xichen doesn't use this opportunity to kill/capture Wei Wuxian, despite Lan Wangji being in a worse condition due to having fought 33 elders, Wei Wuxian being catatonic, and Lan Qiren likely supporting this outcome (especially considering he was the one who led the Lan sect in the Siege – chapter 68, Wei Wuxian's POV). And he did let Lan Wangji take Wei Wuxian back to the Burial Mounds after:

After he went out of his way to send you back to Burial Mound and returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Rules! - Chapter 99, EXR

Again, this was right after the Nightless City massacre – there isn't any goodwill towards Wei Wuxian at this point in time.

Of course, the Lan sect did participate in the siege after Lan Xichen knew of Lan Wangji's feelings towards Wei Wuxian, which Lan Xichen was no doubt a part of (although Lan Qiren lead the Lan sect in the siege, Lan XIchen had to have at least known/given his support, if not participated.) And it should be considered that Lan Xichen letting Wei Wuxian shelter at the Cloud Recesses was after Wei Wuxian had been back for a while, and had not caused the downfall of the Cultivation World, like many suspected he would after his death. And of course, as stated previously, his handling of the aftermath of Nightless City wasn't perfect either (though please note that his main motive here was to protect Lan Wangji from being potentially executed, rather than anything about Wei Wuxian himself). So caring about Lan Wangji doesn't mean he won't harm Wei Wuxian. But I do think he could find bringing Wei Wuxian's soul back to completely destroy it a bit excessive. There is, though, the chance that the elders of the Lan Sect would react to this differently, and of course they would have a sway on both Lan Xichen and the Lan sect as well.

The second reason is smaller, but there seems to be more focus in the Lan sect than in others when it comes to letting ghosts rest peacefully/helping them move on. And that could definitely lead to more resistance to the idea of summoning a soul back to destroy it as well, which could especially impact the elders. So I'd assume that the Lan sect would be the most likely sect to summon Wei Wuxian's soul back just for confinement, or just for some way of making sure any resentment is disippated, his spirit moves on, and he can't cause more harm to the world (eg via Inquiry)******. Not that he would or does as a ghost or as a reborn person, but that's unfortunately not relevant to this.

But yes, as a motivation for the Nie Mingjue-led Nie sect? Absolutely.

So, these are the main motives I suspect to be behind the attempted summoning of Wei Wuxian's soul after his death (and if I've missed any, please let me know – I'd love to have a discussion). And, of course, none of them lead to anywhere good. Because of course it wasn’t enough to besiege Wei Wuxian, murder the 50 non-combatants he was responsible for (and throwing them into the blood pit as a mark of disrespect because why not?), and lead to his death via him getting torn apart. It wasn’t enough to steal all his inventions, and use them commonly while still slandering him with no reprieve – or to steal his notes and give them to people like Xue Yang to study (Villainous Friends, again) and to use for their own, extremely extremely harmful, purposes. Of course, the cultivation world has to try to harm Wei Wuxian after death as well ((:

We don't know whether Wei Wuxian rejecting the summoning ceremonies was conscious or unconscious, but if it was the former, these are very likely reasons he refused to return in this way. If it was unconscious – for example, maybe during the frequent soul-summons his soul was in a weakened state due to him dying from a backlash of resentful energy and getting torn apart, and it healed over time but not before the soul-summoning rituals stopped – well, I can only be thankful.

Finally, let me leave you on the thought that – although it may well have happened since we don't spend much time in the immediate aftermath of the Sunshot campaign – there isn't even any textual mention of this happening to Wen Ruohan. Who, while not being a guidao user, was still very dangerous, still an extremely powerful cultivator, and still had a lot of reason to feel resentment. So.

:')

Thank you for reading!

--

*Considering what we see of how Wei Wuxian's guidao functions – redirecting the ghosts'/corpses' resentment into doing something they'd want to do, eg attacking people, and directing it towards a target – I'm not sure using it to force a spirit to do something 1) extremely specific, and 2) explicitly against their will would actually work. Iirc the closest thing we get to this in text is Wei Wuxian using the corpses of Wens to attack other Wens in the Sunshot Campaign, but he's still just directing their resentment to a target of his choice, and fierce corpses do tend to be on the less concious side of things (hence why Wei Wuxian had to awaken Wen Ning's consciousness). Considering how Wen Ning attacks Wei Wuxian and the Burial Mound Wens before his consciousness had fully awoken, I... really don't think those fierce corpses were able to differentiate (or didn't care).

Meanwhile, ghosts seem to be a bit more in control of themselves – see A-Qing, and Wei Wuxian's own descriptions of his ghost self.

That, alongside ghost!Wei Wuxian being able to resist his soul-summoning and the fact that pretty much all of the new guidao users are a lot weaker than he was, does make me think that this this wouldn't work. I do wonder about Xue Yang, since his methods are pretty different as well, but he's more of a modao user than a guidao user (he controls living corpses rather than dead people) and I don't think you can insert physical nails into ghosts?? Though if he was specifically instructed to figure out some way to control ghost!Wei Wuxian (who's probably kept in a spirit-trapping pouch in this scenario), he might be able to do something at least. Though also he was also struggling to piece Xiao Xingchen's ghost soul back together, so he may struggle with those areas?

Well, whatever the potential outcome, I'm so so happy once again that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the soul-summonings...

**Mainly this:

Everyone in the cultivation world knew that the young leader of the Jiang Clan watched out for Wei WuXian in an almost crazed manner. He would rather catch the wrong person than let go of any possibility, and took anyone who seemed like they held the soul of Wei WuXian away to the YunmengJiang Sect, inflicting severe torture on his victim. If he wanted to take someone back, the opposition would surely lose half of their life. - Chapter 10, EXR

But I have heard people say 'you can't prove that it's just more rumours' before, and I wanted my evidence to be as watertight as possible.

(And, off-topic... isn't it really sad how Jiang Cheng, in the present day, is described as young? Because, for a clan leader, he is. And another thing he is, is close in age to Wei Wuxian – who was killed 13 whole years prior :') )

***And do note that the only other time they run into each other before Wei Wuxian's identity is revealed to the world apart from this is their brief interaction at Jinlintai, where he can't just act however he wants. The next time they run into each other after it, Jiang Cheng is literally taking part in another siege against him, and still extremely hostile ("surrounded by hostile energy, face insidious, staring straight at him" – from EXR chapter 60). Then he loses his spiritual powers and can't do anything. By the time he regains his powers, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and the Wen remnants' corpses have saved everyone during the Second Siege, and though public opinion hasn't properly shifted quite yet, it will soon after Sisi and Bicao tell the story of Jin Guangyao, and voila, a new scapegoat (do note that he doesn't completely bar Wei Wuxian from entering Lotus Pier after the Second Siege, though). Plus, throughout it all, Lan Wangji is still constantly present, which makes it hard for Jiang Cheng to really do anything. And then he's finally faced with the Golden Core reveal, which does alter his motivations towards Wei Wuxian (obviously the resentment is still there – read chapter 102 – but it's also mixed with other complex emotions, and he seems to start being able to move away from that a little in Chapter 103). I still definitely wouldn't describe Jiang Cheng's attitude towards him as positive, but it isn't at the point it was at the start of the novel (eg Chapter 10).

But even if his attitude does change, or would for whatever other reason apart from the reveal, that still doesn't change an initial motivation so isn't relevant to this meta. We know his intentions at the start.

****It's also possible they may have originated it, but I think WWX's reputation was bad enough for it to form naturally. Though you can trace a major part of that back to them, too.

*****That belief isn't outright stated in MDZS, but the fact people are specifically talking about the status of WWX's body in the aftermath of his death suggests that this belief does have some grounding in the MDZS universe, at least? And we know MXTX has included it in TGCF (though that doesn't mean it's definitely in MDZS), so she has used it in her works. If this isn't the case in the MDZS universe I am sorry (although that could also mean there's less importance placed on not disturbing the reincarnation cycle in the world of MDZS...? Which would work towards my original argument) – I don't want to spread misinformation that something is definitely true, I just think there's evidence to suggest it is true, which isn't the same thing.

******Again, I think this would depend on who ends up having more influence over who in the Lan sect. After all, normal resentful spirits only do what they do because of their resentment in death, whereas Wei Wuxian is 'dangerous' because of who everyone thinks he was in life – so him being reborn naturally could also 'cause a lot of harm to the world' during the time period this version of him would live in, unlike the resentful ghosts they appease. This could definitely lead to many advocating for confinement, I think.

[another-clive-blog]

Thinking about the Clive and Bill parallels again...

Both started with pretty average goals (gaining money / getting closure). Both became obsessed with said goals to the point of going through with their plans no matter the cost. Both became consumed by the desire to pursue a goal that isn't actually achievable (You can get more money but it will never feel like it's enough. You can lash out in anger but it won't make the anger go away). Both ended up killing innocents.

And yet.

Bill getting rid of his humanity in the hopes of getting money. Clive getting rid of his money in the hopes of getting his humanity back. Bill claiming he despises people like Clive when he has himself killed innocents for his own selfish plans. Clive claiming he hates politicians and scientists but still using science to build a mecha and politics to justify its use. Bill hiding everything, hiding from Claire that the machine isn't ready, hiding his crime from everyone. Clive exposing everything, exposing his secret base to Layton, exposing Bill and Dimitri's crime by his staging. Bill covering up the incident while Clive broadcasted his crime inside the fortress.

I don't know where I was going with this. Maybe that prime minister Bill looks like a honest citizen, just your regular Londoner really, while Clive is so obviously violent and destructive : and yet, Clive is the dove and Bill the hawk. Funny.

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

[dennisboobs]

most annoying thing about being me is that i cannot engage with like. any fanon shit about dennis because i'm constantly on some advanced derangement and the stuff i thought two years ago when i was first getting comfy in the fandom is still the way everyone else looks at dennis but i'm like. yes but its Worse than this. you're like a quarter of the way there. this isn't the interesting bit, this is a symptom of it, keep going.

[autisticlee]

I want to be rich enough to afford my own business, then live off that so I don't have to work for anyone else and can make my job meet my own needs/comfort that other jobs cannot. getting and keeping a job as an neurodivergent and/or disabled person in a neurotypical and ableist society is so frustrating and overwhelming. they refuse to meet your needs, accommodate you, blame you for your struggles, and are hardly ever accepting, because you're a "burden" to them and don't meet their ridiculous expectations so you get rejected or fired! the only choice is to do it yourself!!!!! but even starting/running businesses seems to be greatly gatekept by them too 😭

one problem is that it seems only people who are already rich can start their own physical business, in this world today. only people who don't really need to work because they're born into money can make money off their own work. then they call it hard work and pulling their boot straps or whatever 🙄 so they just hire others to do all the work for them and take most the profits. then tah-dah, they have a successful business and only had to tell some people what to do and let them all do the rest for them. I can't afford anything that goes into my own business, especially the physical shop and hired help. my living situation makes it difficult to work from home because I live in a walk-in closet sized room with the entirety of my belongings squished into the small space. i'm trying my best to make things to cell (currently stickers, art prints, 3d anime/video game figures, etc) but it's so difficult and stressful.

or alternatively, get lucky, or have social skills and spoons, to get popular enough online so you can start online first or even full time. you usually have to be super social and interesting online to gain a following who supports you and becomes your fan. not everyone is lucky to have an enticing personality (I barely have one at all 😔) and the spoons to consistently keep up with the demand to keep people interested and continuously supportive. most people online treat it all as a competition and won't help others. they refuse to share your stuff or give advice or work together. they just care about themselves and their business.

the only real advice I got is "be consistent," which i'm sure any chronically ill, disabled, or ND person knows that's basically impossible. some days are good, some weeks are horrible and you can't do anything. that's why i'd work better with a team of others so we can fill each others gaps and stay seemingly consistent, if that makes sense. if there's multiple of us, at least one of us should have the spoons to keep things going! right???? but most online businesses are single-person run and they don't want to share and split anything, even if it's just a small collab for fun (I experienced first hand how gross fellow creaters can be to each other because they treat it as a competition instead of a collab and opportunity to enjoy working together and boost each other up. I will never forgive the bts fanart community for how snobby, childish, and bullying many of the "bigger" were behind closed doors! and smaller ones that licked their boots! ive also heard similar stories about other communities and places, like twitch, youtube, etc.)

then there's the whole business managing thing and promoting and all that. i'm a nobody on the internet, so even if I did online business only to start, no one will notice me or help! (I've actually tried before multiple times in the last almost decade and sold nothing but still struggled to keep up 😅) i barely have the executive functioning spoons to take a shower more than once a week 😭 running a business all alone with all the factors pitted against me? how! i can't hire help if no one pays me lmao

when i've asked for help before, even just asking friends to share my stuff, I get slapped with the whole "stop caring what people think about your work/numbers aren't important/do it because you want to and enjoy it/etc" and that's so insulting because it makes me feel like they're trying to say my work is horrible and worthless and I don't deserve to live off my hard work!!!!! (I'm no longer friends with these people)

what it comes down to is, I always feel like my only choice to actually work and possibly afford to survive is to start my own business????? I can't live off my parents forever and part time minimum wage jobs that I could *maybe* get (even if I was rejected from 200 of them in 2 months...) including the one I fo now are so painful, boring, unfulfilling, and/or stressful and not worth it! but no one will hire me for anything better because no experience and you need experience to get experience. or you need a degree and need money to get a degree but need degree to make money. and it's a whole paradox that is impossible for someone like me to get through. I get rejected at every interview for being autistic. i'm burnt out trying. I feel like i'm at a dead end and don't know what i'm supposed to do?

do any other autistic/ND/disabled people feel the same way?

I usually get told to "wait and it will happen one day" but this is life we are talking about!!! life doesnt wait!!!!! i'm not a teen/20s with ~my whole life ahead of me~ i'm getting older fast and have zero openings or paths that I can take alone. I know my disabled limits and it means I can't just make things happen like other people. I can't live independently or get a normal job, etc. I cant wait around forever and hope I get lucky. i've never experienced any luck so I don't believe it will help me. so I put in what work i'm capable off all the time instead of waiting, but see no useful results. I do my best despite what people on the outside see and tell me (I'm so fucking tired of hearing i'm Not Trying, Giving Up Too Easily, Being Too Negative, Refusing To Leave My Confort Zone, Not Believing In Myself and etc. it's NOT true. I don't care if that's how it looks. being disabled is NOT those things!!!! just because normal daily things takes more spoons and energy and effort for me than you, I need more help, and I dont have the ability to physically or mentally do certain things, (which means doing things beyond that is nearly impossible in most cases,) doesn't mean Those Things. no one understands how hard I try, how much I struggle, and how frustrating it is for it to all crash down, never work, and not matter. only very few people in similar situations understand and don't try to push me. I NEED SUPPORT not someone to remind me of how much I fail because I can't meet NT and abled expectations and do things THEIR way!

anyway, I fell into huge rant....is it possible for us to come together and make a ND/disabled-led business and only hire others like us? that would be cool and helpful. if I could start my own business, I want it to be mostly friendly/inclusive/accommodating to ND/disabled people. NTs/ableds have to follow our "rules" for once. a safe business/work space made for us, by us. it would be hard, but so beneficial to those involved 😭

[rucow]

i should write a lesbian phantom adaptation myself actually

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

snivelling crying and whimpering, why is ailette's character voice SO hard to grasp

[voidcat]

anyways<3 good night everyone, may you all have started your weekend well and happy ^-^

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

the reason i dont talk as much about jjba cecio is bc he is very strongly a piss take of the 'one good pig' because he is the 'one good cop' but hes actually so much worse. hes using a mask of humor and kindness and relate-ability to help aid in murder blackmail wrongful imprisonment and all manner of massive power abuses, but because he does the bare minimum of pretending to be a 'good' person [in the right way] he gets free license to do all that and is seen as sympathetic. so actually hes not worse, hes just an average fucking pig with slight different motivations it doesn't matter if he answers to the police or criminal organizations, because the fucking pigs are their own gang just under the guise of 'upholding the law' and hes betraying his community and ruining peoples lives over and over for power either way

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!