#but at least the way you've structured your story you need never worry about there being a lesser evil the good guys need to ally with

[akpaleyreblogs]

DAV fundamentally doesn't believe that power structures can contain people who are both competent humans and not cartoonishly evil.

In fact it doesn't seem to believe that there exist different mutually exclusive forms of evil. All evil is the same evil. All good is the same good. Good thing there's no ambiguity or complexity in the system for anyone to worry about.

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

I have kind of a niche Garashir fic idea I want to write but I’ve never posted anything publicly before, so I am nervous. But I can’t seem to get over the idea? You’re one of my favorite fic writers, any advice? 💕🥺

Ooooh, you gotta try to write it!!! I always love to indulge my new ideas that are driving me insane as soon as I can hehe (because part of writing often has to be done after the initial idea no longer excites you quite the same way).

I like that you said it’s a niche idea, too! I do enjoy most of the common fanon tropes and worldbuilding, but it’s always so refreshing when people add something brand new to the Garashir body of literature. And the nicher and stranger the better, in my opinion!! One thing about writing something niche is that maybe it won’t get the same amount of attention as quickly as something that has broader appeal, HOWEVER... I can tell you from experience that when your niche stuff does find its audience (which may take patience and persistence) that audience will likely go absolutely WILD for it. And I always find that very rewarding <3

Is the reason you haven't started yet because you don't quite know how to start? If that's the case, I would recommend writing an outline first. I even sometimes will outline really short oneshots lol, not because I think I really need to, but because that way i at least have a good record of my idea and ALSO because sometimes I can trick myself into just starting to write by taking notes on in outline format until I get to the part I'm REALLY excited about, at which point I realize I'm just writing full sentences instead of notes and I just let it flow from there and go back to fix the beginning later. XD You could also just try to summarize the plot for a friend, that often reveals to me where any structural issues are tripping me up, and identifies what I need to think about more before I set words down on the page.

Idk if you haven't written before or if you just haven't posted any of it, but I want you to know that a few years ago, when I was easing myself back into writing, I worked on writing like 3 or 4 different garashir fic ideas privately before I actually figured out which idea I wanted to write all the way to the end and actually post. Most of those first wips never got posted (and my wip graveyard is still massive and always growing lol) and that's for the best bc I either got bored of the idea or could not yet achieve the story in the way I wanted to. Which is NOT to tell you that this is inevitable or that you should let your inner editor shut you down, but I just want you to know that it's perfectly okay and normal to, like, have to noodle around a bit before you've written something you're happy with.

Speaking of your inner editor, you gotta tune them out while writing a first draft. Don't even worry if the sentence makes sense, just get the words out, and then get the next words out, and then the next... If there is something stopping you from writing the next sentence (a name you need to make up, or something you need to research, or uncertainty about what a character would be doing, or even if you are just blanking on a word) and you are trying to maintain a flow of writing, then write a note for yourself (e.g, "[insert title of a Cardassian novel here]" or "[Julian makes some kind of expression. Surprise? Anger? idk]" or "[synonym for sinister, bc I've used sinister three times this fic already]") and then MOVE ON. You can go back in and fill in those blanks later.

Also, I really really really really like the writing advice of thinking of your first draft as your worst draft or stupidest draft. It's so true and it helps take the pressure off. One related amazing thing about writing star trek fanfic is that if ever you begin to doubt yourself, you can just fondly think about a beloved episode of Star Trek where something very silly or buckwild happens in a very contrived way, and then remind yourself that people LOVE that episode anyway. This is a genuine way that I have reminded myself not to be so harsh on my own writing lmao.

I really working with beta readers, but I know that's not something everyone enjoys and it's def not required. Still, a beta reader can give feedback on your writing to make it clearer, and they'll likely become invested in your fic and will cheer you on, and if it’s longer than a oneshot you can have someone to talk it through with during the writing process. But it might be hard to find someone you work well with and everyone’s beta reading style is a lil different, so I recommend always being very clear about what kind of feedback you want from them (grammar/typos, plot structure, clarity, brainstorming ideas for how to fix this plothole, does this one specific line of dialogue work, etc! whatever aspects you are uncertain about and want help with for that specific fic). And you should know that it’s okay to not take someone's recommendations too, it’s ultimately your fic, so anyone giving you feedback should just be trying to help you achieve your own vision. Still, even in those cases where you don't go along exactly with their idea for what to change, knowing what parts confused them can help you figure out how to get your vision across more clearly.

If you think concrit might actually be demotivational and intimidating (totally get that, back in high school I actually solicited concrit on my fics publicly, as was the custom back then, and received some critiques from some truly well-meaning friends, and the experience STILL rattled me so bad that it turned me off writing for awhile), or if the process of finding someone to beta read sounds overwhelming, I’d recommend that you instead just find a trusted friend who is willing to read over the completed draft, with the understanding that they must simply give you a sanity check and then tell you yep that’s good! Cannot stress enough the power of encouragement and support and having someone hype you up. ^_^

If you are too nervous to post it under your own name, you can post it to the Anonymous collection on ao3. This is a reversible process, so if you want to reattach your username to your fic later then you can!

Anyway, feel free to send follow up questions about any of this or let me know if there's an aspect of writing I didn't mention that is what you're actually stuck on. I hope this helps and good luck and HAVE FUN! Have fun is actually the most important writing advice haha.

(P.S., anon, if you want me to beta read a draft of a oneshot or at least look over a chapter or two if it's multichapter, I am down to do so, just DM me. If not that's fine too, I'm just so so flattered that you reached out to me and I want to encourage you in any way I can! <3)

[goodluckclove]

I have a project that I started for Nanorimo. I won Nano but after it was over I lost the motivation to write the last of the first draft. I think it’s a combination of not knowing exactly how to end it, not a lot of people to share it with, and being worried that I’m gonna re-read what I have and just find it bad.

Hello, Friend! Please, sit down. Take a deep breath. I'm going to say a variation of a form of writing advice that I'm sure you've heard a lot, but I'll hopefully elaborate it to the point where it clicks. I actually started writing through NaNoWriMo, it was a really great way to build up the muscle of consistent practice. Did my first six or so novels like that. Fun!

But I have good news and bad new about your first draft. The bad news is that it probably isn't perfect. The good news is that that's a great place to be in.

For one thing, NaNo specifically is not a traditional way to write a very stable first draft. People will spend years on what you've done in 30 days. To compare them is comparing your blanket fort with someone else's McMansion and thinking "dang what if my blanket fort never has faux-Roman arches".

Some people say their first drafts are perfect. This confuses me but I accept it and believe them when they say it. I do think that these people are not talking about drafts they carved out of word-flesh in a month or less. That's an entirely different game to play. When you hear people talk about how you're supposed to have a shitty first draft it could be hard to swallow. We don't want to feel like we put in all this hard work to make something shitty. So maybe I can say it a different way:

Your first draft is the skeletal structure of the story as a whole. It is the frame to what you're trying to achieve.

And I can say from experience that not liking your first draft doesn't feel the way you might think it will if you go at it the right way. I've written twelve books and there's only maybe two that I read fragments from and genuinely cringe. And even then there's still stuff I like about it.

Maybe you went into some kind of fugue state for a month and wrote a bunch of stuff that you hate every part of. You're a big high fantasy fan and you wrote a gritty detective novel. You love Dark Academia romance and when you read your NaNo you find it is just a list of every slur you could think of and new ones that could be added to the lexicon. If this happens to you then yes, your first draft is objectively terrible and you should probably take yourself to the hospital.

More likely your thoughts will look like this:

Maybe I should cut this. It's not really needed.

Oh I forgot the protagonist has this specific trait, I should remember that and incorporate more in the rest of the book

Hah yeah I see where I was going with this.

I should add more details about this concept, considering I now know about this other concept.

Hah man that's a lot of typos. (Assuming you're like me)

These are the types of things I have thought when I looked over literally every first draft I've ever edited since the dawn of my time as a writer. You are not likely to rend your clothes in shame and burrow underground. Even if you find some weird shift that happens in NaNo novels, like the genre or tone changing midway through the document - professional writers do that too. It can be a more efficient way to explore the space you're working it.

It can be a really interesting challenge! It helps too that you took some time off - I try and take at least a week between draft edits, even though it can be painful. You'll be able to see it with fresher eyes.

My usual strategy for editing my own drafts is to read from the top with curiosity and excitement and treat it like a puzzle. Is this what I want? Can it be better? Was there something I missed? Incidentally, when I'm stuck at a point in the novel I use the same trick and it helps every time. It's how Chuck Palahinuik did Fight Club!

So yeah you already did a huge thing by finishing a NaNo. Why not take a look back, if not just to enjoy the crazy and chaotic fruits of your effort?

Also - in regards to people not reading your work. Out of 12 novels I've probably had 3 read all the way through. It can suck, but it's okay and it doesn't mean they aren't good. Validate yourself and enjoy your own writing and start putting shit online/self-publishing/querying to take a chance!

[sometimesraven]

any writing advice for someone writing their first novel? (*cough, cough, aka me*)

<3

Disclaimer: what works for me might not work for you, so feel free to take, twist and scrap whatever you need. I recommend asking/shopping around for ideas and other authors' processes, and it'll take some trial and error before you find what works best for you. But here's how I personally write.

Disclaimer disclaimer: this got real long while I was writing it and I realised how terrifying it must look to a first time writer. Take it step by step, at your own pace. It's not as scary as it looks xx

BEFORE YOU WRITE

(I'm going to be focusing on the story itself, but I'm sure it goes without saying that you should have your characters planned out first)

First things first: have a basic idea of the story beats. It doesn't have to be a Big Old Detailed Outline, just a basic compass to keep you going in the right direction so you're less likely to hit a roadblock. Personally I use the Plot Embryo! Here's my favourite video explaining it:

It's a nice simplified, easy to use tool for plotting. Here's a page from one of my journals breaking it down in a way I can personally come back to and understand:

hopefully you can read my shitty handwriting but I've put a little breakdown in the image description.

I then use these prompts to scribble down the basic idea of what journey I want my main character/s to go through, and use that as my blueprint for when I write.

WHILE WRITING

First things first: if you're like me, and seeing errors or plot holes in the stuff you've already written will bug you forever, do what I do and NEVER READ BACK OVER YOUR WORK WHILE IT'S STILL IN PROGRESS. Sometimes I have to skim back to remember where I am but as a rule, once something is written it's no longer my problem until the whole thing is done.

Don't worry about chapters and other such structure. I use the plot embryo to split things up so I know where I am, but otherwise chapters and scenes Do Not Exist until the editing process. Here's the "chapters" of a WIP as an example (this is a slightly different embryo adapted for romance but you get the idea)

Then just keep going until you're done. You don't even have to do it in order. If I'm stuck on a scene, I'll just put a big word in all caps that I can ctrl+f easily (usually either ELEPHANT or PENIS sklfsgskjf) and move on to the next bit I have ideas for, then come back to it later.

This first finished story will be bad. It'll be rough, patchy, full of holes. THAT'S OKAY. This is what we sometimes call the "Zero Draft". The draft that literally exists just to get the story out of your head to make the whole thing easier.

EDITING

Warning: editing is the longest, hardest part of writing a novel. Your book will go through several different versions, be scrapped and torn apart and put back together again. This is what makes the story great.

This is where every author differs, and there's a whole bunch of ways this can go. Personally, the first thing I do once the zero/first draft is done is put it down. Don't look at it, don't touch it, don't think about it. For at least a month. This allows you to come back to it with fresh eyes that haven't been staring at the same words for so long they just hate the whole thing regardless (and you WILL HATE IT. This is normal).

Then, the first thing I do is read back over the whole thing, adding notes and reactions as if I am a reader. If a part of what I've written makes me go 🥺🥺🥺, I'll write that down. If something could be worded better, I write that down. If you think a certain thing that you would put in the tags of a tumblr post, write it down. Treat it like you're someone else's beta reader, note down every negative, every positive, every ???? part. This will give you an idea of what is and isn't working. Here's some of my funniest notes from my zero draft of book 2 just to prove how literal I'm being here:

Then, and this is a controversial move that doesn't work for everyone but it works for my autistic adhd self-loathing brain: WRITE THE WHOLE THING AGAIN. FROM SCRATCH.

This sounds daunting and it is, but you've already written it once, so the second time is easier. Usually I don't worry about making this perfect because again, this is just another draft. I'll copy from my zero draft anything that I think is fine and write new bits or scrap bits as I go.

Sometimes, the story is fine. Sometimes this is an easy refining process. However, if you're anything like me, sometimes the whole thing is messy and you'll realise halfway through rewriting that the whole thing needs restructuring. Do not despair. This is normal.

I'm using book 2 of the Truth Saga as an example for this. I got 40k words into rewriting it before I realised that the reason it felt so 'off' was because the whole thing was sagging in the middle, characters were being left behind, and the whole thing needed restructuring.

It was a rough realisation, as Reckless Truth (book 1) was such a comparatively easy process. I only did three drafts and didn't have to restructure much. Book 2 is giving me so much grief and I'm gonna slap it when it's done.

If you hit this roadblock, it might be time to do what all mood writers hate. Detailed plotting. Go right back to basics. Write down every plot point in detail this time. Act like you're spoiling the whole entire story for someone. Have you ever watched a movie or book review where the reviewer does a full breakdown of the plot? Do that. In this you'll find out exactly where you're going wrong and be able to tweak and fix it. If you have more than one main character, I recommend doing a separate plot thing for each of them and one for the book as a whole so that you can make sure their emotional arc is getting the attention it deserves.

Then, when you're happy with the new plot you've written based on the draft of your story, go back and try to rewrite it again. If this sounds like a nightmare, it is. But it's worth the work, I promise.

From there it's a case of rinse and repeat, reread, rewrite, re-edit until you're mostly happy with what you've got. Then send it to beta readers and editors to tear apart even more and put it back together until you think it's ready! I also recommend joining some writing discords, watching streams or videos about writing, just research research research basically

Happy writing!

[not-poignant]

random genuine question. how do you write a book? I've written multiple fanfics successfully and want to be a full time author nothing too crazy but just enough to make a good living. But I'm finding myself stuck when it comes to executing my original ideas. I plan them out well but when it comes to the acts/chapters and actually writing I can't seem to pull the trigger. I understand it takes time and I may just be overthinking but still I'm worried I won't be able to execute.

Hi anon,

You are probably better off asking someone who writes books for a living, because I definitely don't, and when I did publish two novels, they have never done as well as my serials (and writing a serial is very different - for me at least - to writing a book). Like, they did moderately well, but I consider myself a professional serial writer and not a novelist, and those two things are 100% not the same thing. (Which is also maybe where you're struggling.

Writing fanfics successfully can often have zero bearing on whether you can (or want to) write a novel. Writing one is not writing the other! The processes are totally different, unless you were just writing novels and splitting them up into serial chapters and then, well, you wouldn't be here asking this question sdalkfjad)

There are some great novel-writing books out there, and many can be requested through libraries, and many of their authors have blogs or similar where they teach many of their techniques online. There are so many different ways of structuring a novel (and it can change depending on your genre, and I don't know what your genre is either!) I can't recommend any personally, because I don't read them, because I don't really write novels.

When it comes to actually sitting down and actually writing anything of length though, it's sometimes down to asking yourself a few things:

What feelings are happening in you that hold you back? Are you afraid it won't be good? (In which case there's no way but through, anon, you have to write some bad writing in order to get to the good writing, it's a mandatory part of the practice - a garden needs shit/manure in order to grow, lol).

Are you bored because you planned it all out? (In which case you may need to look into writing novels without plotting them first).

Are you more excited for future chapters instead of present chapters? (Write out of order! And make the present chapters shorter).

Are you more interested in fanfiction's regular feedback from readers? (In which case consider creating a reader group for your original writing, or finding a really good beta who can give you that feedback). (I can't get dopamine from writing novels, so I don't write them, I just find the process boring in a way that's pretty intolerable to me).

Is the novel too huge of a road into meeting your characters and setting/s in prose? (Consider writing small oneshots for your characters and world first. Consider writing side characters in the world in a 2-3k fic. Treat it like responding to a fanfiction challenge. It can often make access to the world a little easier).

Is something about the story actually broken? Do you need to go back to the drawing board re: the strengths of the characters?

Learn how to fall in love with your characters the way you've fallen in love with fanfic characters. If they're not strong enough to earn that 'love'/'obsession' - make them stronger. (Although, frankly, sometimes you can only learn that love by writing them. Think of it this way: When you start writing fanfiction, you've already invested hours of time into learning the characters and their depth. You need to invest at least the same amount into your own characters and their stories before you might stumble across that same love).

Outside of that you can apply any number of techniques to novel writing, but ultimately, a lot of it is sitting down and just writing (sometimes pretty terribly) and learning how to overcome writer's block and understanding why it's happening for you.

For me, I learned that the cons of writing novels just didn't outweigh the pros. The lack of dopamine feedback re: readers doesn't play well with my unmedicated ADHD brain, which means writing to no feedback at all tends to leave me extremely unmotivated. And fitting the novel formula re: story lengths ultimately just didn't work with me either, most of my long stories naturally hit or exceed the 250k mark, which is fine for serials, but not fine for most novels outside of epic fantasy or hard science fiction.

So I would also recommend sitting down and asking yourself what did fanfiction give you that made you able to write it? And what do you need novel writing to give you, to make you able to write it? Likewise, ask yourself - do you want to write original novels? Or original serials? There's a good market for both now, and novels =/= serials. Like, they are naturally written in different ways!

Do you think you would struggle to write an original serial the same way that you're struggling with novels? All of these things are important to ask yourself.

But ultimately, just... I hate to say it, but sometimes you have to force yourself through the struggle, and write stuff while groaning because you know it's bad, to get to the other side. It's like learning any new skill - and fanfiction writing does not naturally lend itself to writing novels with everyone! You are learning a brand new skill!! Just because I know how to draw with pencils doesn't mean I know how to paint with watercolours, and I may be even more intimidated to learn watercolours because I know now how long it took to get the hang of fanfiction. Sometimes you just have to actually sit yourself down and be like 'okay I have to get real good at being real bad at something for a little while, even if I hate it.'

Chances are it won't be as bad as you think anyway, and then even if it is, well that's a normal part of writing a novel. That's why the first draft is the first draft, and not the final product. :)

[siderealcity]

Narrative Sense

Okay, this is eventually going to become a post about Dragonsong, and maybe Stormblood, but to start with, it's going to be a discussion of the peculiar form of non-logical sense that stories have. You could call this "emotional sense," or "vibes," maybe, but I'm going to call this "narrative sense," because it's not 100% emotion-driven, and it's not logical, but it's the way things make sense because they're in a story.

In its simplest form, narrative sense is the way things work in a fairy tale. Cinderella must leave the party by midnight because the enchantment will end then. Does that make logical sense? No. Do we need to get a full explanation of the rules of fairy magic to accept that limitation? No. We accept that magic will have abrupt, maybe harsh limitations, just like we accept that if you look the monster in the eyes it will get you, or if you hold your breath passing a graveyard, you'll be safe from ghosts. We believe, on some fundamental, instinctive level, that we are bargaining with the universe on terms that we don't fully grasp, and we're prepared to accept that you can pay for a miracle with seven years of silence (with occasional screaming into a hole in the ground not counted against you.)

We expect stories to obey the rules of this negotiation far more strictly than we do reality. Which is not to say that characters can't lose or fail, but rather, that we expect that if they are going to lose or fail it's because they broke the terms of the agreement. This is pretty much the entire way the horror genre is structured. Characters are tested on subjects they didn't know they ever needed to study, and when they get things wrong, they die. Is that fair? No. But it feels understandable. As opposed to reality, where terrible things happen to people for no reason.

Likewise, if they're going to win, they have to earn it. They must have paid the price for happiness before it could be delivered. Or someone must have paid it, at least.

And now we get to Dragonsong. Spoilers ahead.

Okay, so I mentioned before when talking about Ysayle, that Estinien is the most Obviously Doomed Character in the history of characters. And he might as well be wearing a Tragic Hero t-shirt over his drachen mail. For all of Heavensward, he is the voice of Ishgard's side in the Dragonsong War. He's the dragon-killer who wants revenge on Nidhogg, he's the embodiment of a thousand years of people who've suffered from Nidhogg's wrath. The people who don't know anything about Ratatoskr and never did. The other innocent victims of the war.

As a character, he is the outrage of a people who have been wronged. It aligns him perfectly with Nidhogg, and that's why they make such a nice, neat pair. The mortal expression of grief and rage, and the immortal one. Of course they're destined to destroy one another. In most stories, that's how they find redemption. Outrage doesn't get to be put away when it's finished. In Narrative Sense, the revenge-seeker gets what they want and dies because that's how they pay for their victory. And who would they be afterward, if they survived anyway? Vengeance was their character. And that character's purpose ended. They have nowhere to go and no one to be once their role in the story is done.

If you did the Dragoon job quests before starting Heavensward, then you know that the eye is eventually going to overwhelm him. He starts out the cutscene asking you to fight Vishap with, "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight you again." You knew it was coming sooner or later.

So it's entirely unsurprising that he's transformed at Azys Lla. Again, it makes perfect narrative sense. You've already destroyed Nidhogg, the draconian side of the anger fueling the war. You've destroyed Thordan, and through him the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, the force that pitted Nidhogg against the people in the first place, and profited off the suffering of both sides. Of course you still have to fight the anger of the common folk. Because it doesn't matter that Nidhogg's outrage was initially justified, so was theirs. Their desire for revenge has to find an end, too.

The expectation set up from the moment of the transformation, and reinforced constantly is that Estinien will die with Nidhogg. That's just how it makes sense. And it ties into the larger theme of the game's story: Where do we get salvation from? What are we prepared to sacrifice for it? For whom do you fight? And what do you believe in? Estinien is meant to be the sacrifice that ends the thousand-year-long war. He is the collective anger of the innocent people of Ishgard, and he's now fused with the immortal, undying anger of the dragons over Ratatoskr's murder. There is no other way to end the song than his death.

Isn't there?

It's the revelation that the Scions still want to save Estinien that convinces Hraesvelgr to finally act. Because he knows how these stories end. How they always end. Midgardsormr traded his life for his childrens' future. Shiva gave her life so their souls could be together. Ysayle gave her life to save her friends. Victory always comes with a cost. So why even pursue it? What makes the victory worth the price you have to pay for it? It's a taste of the nihilism we'll get with Fandaniel and Hermes later. If suffering is the inevitable outcome of everything you do, why try for anything better?

But in the narrative sense, the price for victory has already been paid.

Not by Estinien, but by The Warrior of Light. Our losses along the way have paid the narrative cost for his rescue. Haurchefant, and Ysayle, and Minfilia have all been taken from us, not through any fault of our own, not by choice, even though we have followed the rules of the narrative to the letter, and now the narrative owes us something. And if we didn't get that feeling already, the ghosts of Haurchefant and Ysayle, the characters representing love and redemption, appear and literally give us the strength to pry the eyes from Estinien's armor in the end, freeing him both literally and figuratively from being the avatar of vengeance.

This is why he finally takes his helmet off only after everything is done. When he's no longer the Azure Dragoon, or the representation of righteous anger. When his part in the story is over. He couldn't do it before, but now that his character, the character of vengeance has died, he can be reborn as just Estinien.

[orange-orchard-system]

In our system, visualization is a large part of how we identify ourselves as individuals, and it's how a lot of our headmates have come about, too. A lot of tulpamancy guides (at least, that we've read) will implicitly treat imposition or visualization as a later step, only to be done once you've finished planting a tulpa seed or otherwise gotten some sort of rudimentary baby tulpa going. But we find that a lot of systems do best working backwards from this, starting with some form of visualization and then coaxing a personality out of them, so to speak. There are two main narratives I see that go along this route, so let's talk about them both.

1. The "Imaginary Friend"

Imaginary friends often come with a visual element to them, and we've often used them as a comparison to explain imposition, or "seeing" headmates in the physical world. When we were younger, we had an imaginary friend of the Puppet from FNAF, and could "see" her whenever we talked or wanted her around. We also had temporary imaginary friends featuring other fictional characters, which were conjured up as temporary companionship; we pretended the characters were actually physically with us, and silently roleplayed in our own heads about what it would be like to hang out with them, or go on dates with them, or even show them around where we lived. Most never stuck around or grew beyond what we needed for the particular scenes they were made from, but occasionally, some would grow out of being just imaginary friends and become headmates.

When these visualized imaginary friends become headmates, they're often created as accidental tulpas would be, through parroting and repeated interaction. Notably, because these imaginary friends have a visual element to them and can be exposed to many different scenarios in the physical world (even if they can't physically interact with anything), their conjurer may find certain aspects of headmate development to be easier. For example, it's easy to treat someone as a separate being if you see them in their own body, however non-physical it is. You may also be able to naturally incorporate often overlooked aspects of personality like how they move, what they do when nervous, what their hands feel like when you pretend to hold them, etc. into your interactions with them until they begin to do them all on their own. And most importantly of all, all this development is occuring while they get a chance to develop their own experiences much in the same way a young human being exposed to new settings like the grocery store or the library would. Developing a tulpa merely inside your own head or in the context of a particular story may work in many cases, but these methods can also be restrictive and limit growth. (Of course, on the other hand, you may find this method is too open-ended and lacks the structure you want, but there's pros and cons to every method.)

The lesson here is that if you're having trouble making a tulpa with the most common method, consider giving them a face and taking them on a walk! You might be surprised by how they develop when given a "body" of their own.

2. The Classic Paragenic Swag

Don't go out often enough to bring along imaginary friends on adventures? Not to worry! With the power of daydreaming, you can bring anything you can think of to life – and we only mean that half metaphorically!

Paragenic systems are those who became plural due to their daydreams in some way – usually because the people they daydreamed about (their paras) broke away from the scripts of their daydreams and became autonomous. This is how headmates such as our own Kiri and Tarot came about. Paragenic systems usually come from immersive daydreaming (or its disordered form, Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder), but you don't have to be that intense in your daydreaming to become a paragenic system.

Again, it's about the visualization and opportunity for a variety of scenarios. What would x do if y happened? What kind of world would they most enjoy living in? What if they had to live through a completely different world? It's very unstructured compared to other forms of inducing plurality, and hardly ever an intentional method for it, and for those reasons paragenic is only very rarely considered under the "created" umbrella. But if we're going for unconventional methods, you may want to give it a try, guiding your para through the situations you imagine and letting them build up a history, while occasionally offering chances to grow their individuality like a simple choice between two items, or how they think the best way to solve this problem is. Unfortunately, I can't offer much in the way of specifics for developing a headmate this way, as we often don't realize we have a new paragenic headmate until they're already autonomous enough to tell us themselves. But there's likely to be a certain point in which you start sensing that your para has begun to grow into their own (a frustratingly difficult feeling to describe), and at that point it may help to give gentle nudges or conversation starters. They might not be receptive to being their own individual self just yet – don't panic, don't push, just let them live for a while longer in the daydreams before asking again. It usually just takes them some time to get used to the idea of actually existing; most don't realize this because they see it as just a philosophical question, but "Do you exist?" can be highly intimidating to someone who definitely didn't exist just five hours ago! Give them some space and time like you would anyone else figuring themselves out. Most come around eventually.

Alright, that's all I've got. I hope this helps! It's always interesting to be reminded that a lot of other systems go about visualization differently, or rarely visualize at all. (We always remember that aphantasiac systems exist, but often forget about the variety of experiences between systems who can visualize in their head... it's almost funny.) To wrap things up... even if these methods don't work or don't sound appealing, don't be afraid to experiment or try things out of order. You don't know what you might discover if you never allow yourself to make your own path!

does everyone have the capacity to become plural? i’ve been trying my hardest to make a tulpa for close to a year and i have gotten nowhere. no voices, no movement, maybe the most is faint head pressures. i also have an existing dissociate disorder which makes me think it would be easier to become plural. but nothing is happening and i’m considering giving up. honestly even being told i’ve been doing it all wrong might make me give up. i’ve read over 30 guides and still nothing. any ideas what could be wrong? or will i just never be plural?

I think everyone can be plural. But I can't say for certain. It's not like there are studies proving this one way or another.

If you haven't gotten results from one method, I might try another instead. There are generally three different ways to induce plurality.

One is the most common tulpamancy method where you talk to something that isn't there and listen for a response. A lot of tulpamancy purists will swear by this as the only right way to make a tulpa. But this isn't the easiest and isn't how accidental tulpas form.

For that, I think methods that involve parroting in the beginning are the easiest, like this one.

This is probably the best example of how accidental tulpa form, and in my opinion, shouldn't take as much work as the traditional methods.

The other method that you can try, which is often not even considered tulpamancy, is to talk to an existing part of yourself, similar to how Internal Family Systems works. If you wanted to go this route, this might actually work best for someone with a dissociative disorder.

In fact, if DP/DR is interpreted as non-elaborated state fronting, it's possible that naming and talking to a state like that could cause it to develop into a full headmate, taking what's already there and using it as your foundation. (I don't know if that's the dissociative disorder you have, just giving it as an example.)

Remember that guides are all techniques that have worked for other people, but that doesn't mean those techniques will work for you necessarily.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter eight - “hovel, sweet hovel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n arrive the shelter and take a look at what it has to offer.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: what would you like to see happen next? let me know! (p.s. this is what i pictured the shelter/hovel to look like)

"I think this is it," Bucky said, looking forward at the structure in front of them.

"That's the 'shelter?'" Y/N huffed, hopelessly annoyed.

They had been walking and jogging on and off for forty-five minutes straight. Her feet killed.

"We're... gonna die."

"We are not gonna die, Y/N."

"Look at it! That is a hovel!"

"Well, inside's better than outside," Bucky retorted. "At least no one will see us if we're in there. It looks abandoned, they'll assume it actually is.”

She sighed and followed behind Bucky into the shelter. It was a one story stone structure that looked so old and weathered. It... looked like a shed. An old ass stone shed. She briefly wondered if Wakanda had a storm season because she was almost certain this thing wouldn't withstand it.

The door let out an anticipated squeak, and she was just as disappointed to see the inside as she was the outside. Bucky put the bags down and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah... this... isn't great..."

It was just as small as it seemed. And empty. Mostly. There were a few withered shelves with dusty pots and bowls, and an even more withered attempt at a table. There was what looked like a furnace in one corner with old, rotted wood in it. The wooden floor creaked under their steps.

The whole place felt like a ghost: desolate, ancient, and lonely. Except for one peculiar thing...

"Bucky?" she beckoned.

"Hm?"

(Y/N) hadn't noticed it when she first entered, but in the middle of the table sat a small, shiny, black panther figurine. It posed on all fours, looking ferociously up at her. It looked so out of place in contrast of the eternal layer of dust on everything else.

"What is this?" she asked reaching for the one thing that didn't match.

When her hand wrapped around it, energy surged into her skin. It felt almost... alive.

"(Y/N) what-" Bucky was cut off by a sound that startled them both.

In the corner across from the furnace, a section of the floor starting moving. Wood on wood on stone was not a good sound. Nonetheless, in mere seconds, there was an opening, and if (Y/N) leaned forward, she could see stairs!

Both of them remained still, feet planted on the creaky floor. They immediately looked at each other.

"What did you do?"

"I'm... not sure. I think I opened it."

(Y/N) smirked.

"What?" Bucky asked, confusion clearly evident in his tone.

"I should've known," (Y/N) shook her head. "Shuri wouldn't have led us here unless there was something more."

She held the panther figurine as she walked towards the opening.

"Wait," he grabbed her arm. "We don't know that Shuri knew that was here. What if it's a trap?"

"A trap from who? I don't think anyone knows we're here except Shuri."

"I don't know. J-Just let me go first."

"Alright. After you, oh wise one," she acquiesced, voice sarcastic but endearing all the same.

Bucky tried to suppress a chuckle. "Smartass. You're the wise one."

She tried to go down the stairs, letting him go first, but apparently that wasn't enough.

"Wait, just let me go look around and I'll holler when it's all good."

"Holler? Who says holler?"

"Me. Wait here."

"Fine," she made a show of pointedly plopping down on the top step, still and waiting as he requested.

It only took about ten seconds.

"Woah..." his voice came from far away.

"What is it?!" (Y/N) leaned forward.

"You were right! Come down, you gotta see this!"

She wasted no time... and standing beside Bucky, her jaw dropped.

"Holy..."

Beneath the ground was a significantly larger, way more modernized, and highly advanced survival shelter. All equipped with smaller versions of a table, chairs, and cabinets, along with a compact freezer and miniature stove, a chest, a closet, and two sets of bunk beds. Everything was clean and looked in optimal condition. There was even a rug.

"Shuri definitely didn’t leave you with nothing," Bucky commented, still taking it all in.

"-us with nothing," she corrected, retreating back up to the shed to get the bags.

-

Later in the day, (Y/N) got a handle on the panther key and how to use it to open and close the entryway to the bunker. Once she figured it out, she kept it closed, ensuring their concealment and maximizing their safety.

Bucky had found his way into the closet, listing off the contents to (Y/N) who sat on the floor, back up against one of the bunk bed legs. She was exhausted. Her body had been assaulted by adrenaline and strenuous mortal-danger-physical-activity. Bucky seemed to be fine, though. Curse that super soldier serum. His energy was always so high.

"...oh, and here's the bedding stuff. I don't know what this is, though."

(Y/N) lethargically leaned her head over to get a good view of the closet.

She chuckled. "That's a space heater...Oh! And next to it - that's a portable AC. Makes sense. I doubt they could get electric or plumbing out here."

And her head rolled back to center, eyes closing, body exhausted.

Bucky seemed to notice. "Hey, if you're tired, I can make the beds...or at least yours if you wanna sleep now."

(Y/N) stretched her legs straight out in front of her. "No, that's okay."

She wasn't about to force her one armed friend to make a bed for her. That's just rude. Especially after he carried those bags. She felt bad; she wished she had done more.

"Nah, I don't mind. It's not like I got anything else to do," he insisted, bringing the bedding over.

(Y/N) stood, body internally complaining in aching protest. She didn't really have the energy to expertly persuade him.

"Buck, it's fine." Her voice was faint.

He didn't even stop to hesitate, seemingly determined on the task. She thought it better to just give up and let him do his thing since he was so set on it. However, the sheet was fitted and there were pillow cases, not really one-arm friendly assets. He was struggling... very clearly. (Y/N) felt even worse.

He started moving quicker, frustration jerking his arm in quick, irritated bursts as he was trying to get the sheet to stay. There was still no success.

She stepped forward gently. "Bucky..."

"Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his hand on the bed frame before forcefully standing up. His hand went to his forehead, rubbing his eyes in disappointment.

(Y/N) was a statue. She had never seen him mad before; she had no idea what to do. Don't get her wrong, she wasn't scared, she just wasn't sure what to say.

"Can't fuckin' do anything," he muttered under his breath.

She finally moved forward. "Hey, forget the bedding, it doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does," he turned. "We're hiding from a collapsed regime and I can't even make a damn bed. Plus you've done so much for me, I just wanted to help with something. I just wanted to be able to do something."

Oh. Suddenly, his anger was gone. It was replaced with a miserable helplessness. It made her chest tight; she needed to fix this.

"Buck, you don't owe me anything. I'm here because I wanted to help, not because I was expecting anything in return. And I don't know what you've been paying attention to, but I watched you carry the majority of those - heavy - bags the entire way here while simultaneously figuring out the way to the shelter while my brain was momentarily smooth. You were the voice of reason in that chaos we just escaped from, and it's a damn good thing you were so calm because I don't know if I could have handled the panic of the both of us."

"You could've," he murmured. "And I wasn't calm, I'm just used to this. I was trained for situations like this."

No, she wasn't going to lose to deflection.

"Regardless, you were a huge help. Seriously."

He still didn't look convinced.

"In fact, I feel more safe here with you than I would with Shuri and the Queen. You're like a super soldier body guard."

A look washed over his face that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. He looked at her quizzically, like he was trying to figure something out.

"You... feel safer with me?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"You're not like... worried about..."

"The Winter Soldier? No."

He sighed. "How can you be so sure? You have no idea if or when I might... you know."

"We are literally the only people here, and I don't plan on saying the trigger words. So unless you plan on saying them, I don't really think we have anything to worry about. And, even if you did 'you know,' you could definitely get away with it and no one would find the body."

He turned bright red. "What?!"

"I'm kidding! Sorry. But Bucky, you've been doing so well with me and Shuri, and honestly the Hydra programming might not even be there anymore."

"But we don't know for sure!"

"Bucky..." she pleaded, turning her head slightly as to say what is this about?

"I can't trust my own mind," he sighed looking at the floor. "I just don't wanna do anything bad. It's just - weird that you don't seem to be worried at all."

"Why is that?"

"Everyone sees me as a monster."

The room was dead silent. He wasn't looking at her, but if (Y/N) looked at him any harder, she was sure she'd burn a hole through his head. How could anyone see this man as a monster? Logically, she understood what other people saw. But personally, she couldn’t find it in her to perceive him like that. It just didn’t work. All she could find was gentleness, compassion, and sincerity.

"I can't see you as something you're not," she said, whisper soft. "I don't care if you hands are 'scarred from murder' or however you said it a few sessions ago. I trust them entirely."

He finally looked up at her, his face filled with something she couldn't quite place. It looked a bit like disbelief and then it changed into relief and then something else entirely. A slow smile crept up on his lips.

"...hand."

"What?"

"My hand. Singular. Not hands."

A deep, deep smile - to match the one on Bucky - grew on her face just before the pair started cracking up ridiculously. Perhaps this was an odd way of releasing the tension, fear, frustration, and exhaustion of the day. Nevertheless, laughter was cathartic. It was so cathartic that eventually (Y/N) could hardly catch her breath and Bucky's stomach hurt. This went on for several minutes.

In time, they both calmed down. She didn't remember when exactly it happened, but they were both sitting on the floor now. They sat in between the two bunk beds, facing one another, each back leaning against a respective bedpost.

The atmosphere was different now, but not in a bad way. It felt like 2 a.m. at a sleepover, when the conversations get drowsily deep, with slow voices and honest confessions. It was heavy eyelids and low inhibitions.

A fresh wave of exhaustion washed over her. She let her head fall slack against the bedpost, resting.

"Bucky, what were sleepovers like in the forties?" she asked softly, eyes closing ever so delicately. 

"Well," he started, getting into a story of his past with Steve and the couch cushions.

And that's how she fell asleep. Sitting on the floor, leaning against a bunk bed, and listening to his voice fade out into the background of her consciousness.

If only she knew how she would wake up: laying comfortably on one of the beds, with one blanket on top of her and another below her because he couldn't get the sheet to cooperate. With the pillowcase carefully draped atop the pillow instead of enveloping it because that's what one hand would allow. With the bed next to her being slept in with no blanket because he used his as the replacement for the sheet he couldn’t get to cooperate.

[qianinterprises]

Among the Horses {Part One}

Pairing: farm boy!Jaehyun x female!Reader

Other Characters: OC's, Haechan (sorta, kinda, not really), Renjun (sorta, kinda, not really)

Genre: fluff, angst, country au, farmboys and lady's au, falling in love, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: verbally abusive aunt, yelling, degrading (not the fun kind)

Word Count: 3.8k

Overall Synopsis: Being sent to live with your aunt isn't exactly something wonderful, especially because she's verbally abusive and downright determined to turn you into a "proper lady" who a wealthy man will want to marry. However, perhaps living there won't be so bad. After all, you've got a handsome farm boy teaching you to ride horses.

Part One Synopsis: Arriving at your aunts is very challenging and trying. After being put through the ringer with your attire, you finally get a chance to explore the green world, and spend more time with the farm boy who'd picked you up from the airport.

Author's Notes: So I started this a while ago and didn't really do anything with it, but I love it and I really wanna write more so yeah... Also, I've posted this on a03 as well.

Tagging: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon @hwangful

A white, dirty pick-up truck pulled off the main road and onto a long, winding dirt road, leading them closer to a grand house that you had only been to a few times in your life. The place you’d be living for the next year or two.

The truck bumped along the loose gravel, crashing over potholes, sending you bouncing on the very worn cloth of the cab, your eyes glancing worriedly to the male beside you, one of his hands planted firmly on the hard steering wheel, the other loosely placed on the stick shifter in the center of the bench.

“Are you sure the tires won’t… fall off?” your voice was thick and laiden with worry.

He glanced over at you, warm brown eyes gazing intently into yours, the opticals flecked with curiosity and amusement. Embarrassment crept under your skin.

“You haven’t been out here in awhile? Have you miss?” he asked, tone filled with friendly amusement.

You awkwardly scratched at your nose, a bit of a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years.

“No. My parents never had the money to travel.”

Your voice was small, etched in nervousness and anxiety.

He cast you a gentle smile as he pulled the truck around a sharp curve in the road, and there it was.

The house was huge, at least three stories high and stretched across the land it was perched upon. The foundation red brick that looked freshly cleaned (it probably had been), a contrast to the pearly white of the rest of the structure. The curves and contours of the slightly oddly shaped house made it more enchanting and nerve-wracking, especially as you grew closer, tires hitting the smooth cement before your driver moved the shifter and parked the truck.

“Head on in, miss, I’ll get your bags.”

His accent was a combination of Asian mixed with southern, an odd mix that somehow seemed so delicately smooth and perfect, especially the way he drawled over the “r’s”

“Miss?”

You’d been stuck in your thoughts, eyes wide as you surveyed the prospects of your new home.

“Right, yes, thank you,” you said softly, moving to get out, the door creaking as it was opened.

Your black, falling apart sneakers hit the tan pavement of the driveway, the hooks of your overalls rattling loosely against your torso as they accommodated your movements; the loose denim legs falling just above your knees as you pushed the dingy door closed.

The male you’d ridden with, Jaehyun, he said his name was, pulled the latch of the truck bed and reached up to grab your mismatched luggage, his sturdy frame pressing into the hot metal of the truck.

“Do you need some help?”

Your voice was small, mixed with worry and hesitation.

You’d do just about anything to prolong the inevitable.

“That’s quite alright, miss,” he began. “You should head on inside. The heat is a harsh place for a lady,” he answered.

You looked down, playing with your fingers, but you didn’t reply. Instead, slowly moving toward the brick steps that would lead to the entrance of the beautiful home.

~

Anina Lee was a strict lady. She liked things just a certain way and she got them how she wanted. She didn’t tolerate bad behavior or disobedience. And she had a strong dislike for people that got in her way. Thus, she had never been married.

She lived alone, if you count having two live-in maids, a chef, and a stable hand that slept in the barn as living alone.

Alina was your aunt. Your mother’s elder sister who had alienated your mother when she’d married a man of lower class. That same man later had a wife who blessed him with three kids to care for, spending his days fixing the cars of those more fortunate than him, hoping to make a buck for his family.

That’s why you were here. A young girl, coming of age to be married off and starting a family of your very own. Your family couldn’t support you any longer, and as you prepared to move away in hopes of finding some sort of job or a life, your aunt had hastlessly offered to take you in. Your mother had all too happily obliged, hoping her only and eldest daughter would learn a thing or two from the elder woman, maybe turn you into the lady your mother and father had tried for years to make you.

The stainless white door slowly opened and an older woman stood in the frame. She was clearly in her 50s, stress lines drawn thickly in her forehead, wrinkles in the corners of her dull gray eyes, deep lines around her nose and mouth, her neck sagging just a little beneath her sharp jaw. She was a small lady. On first glance one may have a hard time understanding what makes her so fierce. She was small in stature, small in size and in frame, but she had the tongue of a snake, the heart of a lioness, and the skill of a chimp.

“(Y/N)! You’re finally here!”

You stood a good few inches taller than the woman, but that made you more nervous if anything. You made her way up the steps and, as you reached the woman in the door, you were promptly pulled into a proper hug that severely lacked warmth.

“I can’t believe you got on a plane and sat amongst all those people in that ghastly attire. You must change at once!”

The woman’s voice was so shrill it could pierce glass, but you held back the flinch.

“Martha!��� the same voice called into the house as she pulled you in, shutting the door and encompassing them in the cool air conditioning.

A larger lady appeared, dressed in stained blue jeans and an ugly yellow shirt.

“Please show my niece to her room and help her change into something more… feminine and lady-like,” her aunt’s voice commanded.

“When you’re finished dear, have Martha show you to my study.”

There was no endearing term in the word “dear.” Simply an icy addition to a perfectly manicured sentence.

You watched your aunts receding form, pencil skirt tight on her legs, black heels sharply hitting the hardwood intimidatingly.

“Come with me, dear. Let’s get you changed,” the larger lady spoke softly.

She was older, maybe 60 or so, her skin dark tan, although you couldn’t tell if it was the sun or her natural skin pigmentation. Her voice was grainy, but soft and endearing. Motherly she’d dare say. And you thought that this woman may actually make living here bearable.

You followed the lady up the grand staircase, up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway until you reached the end. The lady pushed open the thick white door and stepped inside, you following her closely.

Inside, the room was surprisingly rustic. A simple, full-sized bed with an obviously homemade comforter thrown across it. A light gray plush rug beside the bed. The hardwood floors were surprisingly and delightfully bare. One large section of the wall was home to a large bay window that stretched from the ceiling to the plush gray cushion of the bench. There were a few flower paintings and other pointless nicknacks scattered on obsolete surfaces around the room, but you paid no mind to them as your attention was drawn to the lady opening the large mahogany grand dresser and plucking out two cloths.

She unfolded both neatly, placing them on the bed and you sighed. The skirt was long and pleated, patterns of red and white stretched in an annoying kaleidoscope arrangement across the nearly pointless garment and the white shirt appeared to be partly transparent.

“Go ahead and get changed dear, I’ll help you when you finish,” she said kindly and turned her back.

You waited for her to leave the room but it was apparent she had no intention to. Awkwardly, you began unhooking the straps of your overalls, letting the fabric clang to the floor. Your skin heated up, feeling all too exposed before sliding into the skirt, the itchy elastic clinging to your hips uncomfortably. You pulled your stained blue t-shirt off, swapping it for the crisp white one that you feared you’d stain in the next few moments.

The lady turned around, her wide hips bumping into the dresser slightly. The dresser was sturdy enough not to jostle, but it was obvious the corner was sharp and painful. You almost felt bad at the way the lady’s face winced, but it was quickly pushed away as calloused hands began gripping the delicate skin of your arms, squeezing along the skin up your arms.

She tsked and turned around, rummaging through the dresser once again, only to turn around with a black, light cardigan.

You gawked. Why on earth would you wear that atrocious thing in this weather? It was the middle of August! Not December!

“I know. But if your aunt were to see your arms, she’d have a fit. She probably still will,” she said.

You sighed. Your aunt hadn’t changed one bit. Your skin was fragile. The tops of your forearms lightly tanned, a pigment passed on from your father. The rest of your arms and body entirely was light. Lady’s should be gorgeously sunkissed to be beautiful and to be taken seriously.

With a huff, you put on the long black sleeves, the intricately designed cotton draping over your shoulders perfectly. But that didn’t mean it was any more comfortable. You could already feel the added heat seeping onto your skin. You’d be sweaty and uncomfortable soon.

“Now let’s do something about your feet.”

You looked down; your worn socks had holes all through them, mud permanently stained to the sweaty fabric.

Bustling from the room, you were left stunned in the wake of the surprisingly fast woman, watching her round the corner and disappear down the hall to fetch something to apparently “fix your feet.”

You thought you’d do something to speed along the process. The more time spent getting you dressed in these ridiculous clothes, the less time you had to explore the outside world. You made your way to the bay window, taking a seat on the plush cushion that accommodated you nicely. You pressed your back against the edge of the wall and turned your gaze to the picturesque green world filled with surprisingly lush looking grass, dips and hills along the valley, and the tops of trees further off in the distance. All this land was yours for the roaming. You couldn’t wait to get out those doors and go exploring.

The sound of water sloshing in a pot brought your attention back from the window, glancing curiously as the large lady placed the pot down in front of the window.

“Put your feet in.”

You didn’t argue. You were hesitant, but thought better than to argue and have your aunt boil you alive in this pot.

As soon as your dingy, dirty, mud pasted feet hit the water, you hissed. The temperature felt that it could boil the skin right off.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s hot, but your aunt is expecting you down soon and I have to do this as quickly as possible,” the lady said.

Grabbing your left foot, she picked the appendage up from the water along with a suds coated dish sponge and began mercilessly scrubbing away at the tender flesh. You whined and howled, tears pricking to your eyes as your skin was scrubbed and abused by the harsh bristles of the brush. You attempted to yank your foot away, but the tight grip on your ankle prevented much movement. You were stuck suffering as the skin became reddened from the irritation.

~

As soon as the painful experience came to a close, your now pink feet were dried with a towel before being slid into a pair of eccentrically beaded, golden strapped sandals that accentuated the rest of the over-the-top outfit nicely.

“You seem presentable enough now, although I’m sure the mistress of the house would have a few unkind things to say about your wild mane.”

You tried not to take offense. You liked your hair. It was an untamed mop that curved wildly carefree, blowing in the breeze that picked up the thick tufts.

“Thank you for your help ma’am.”

She bowed at the waist, a kind smile on her lips.

“No need for the ma’am dear. Call me Martha, or Mrs. Rivera if you must.”

And with no more haste, Martha Rivera led you back down the grand staircase to the bottom floor, the tight flats biting at your heels and ankles with every step you took, fighting off the winces that followed. You rounded a few sharp corners, venturing into a large sitting room with an extravagant flat screen high on the wall and couches that looked brand new. Through a dining room, table decorated with a sequined bronze cloth and the finest China you’d ever seen, although that wasn’t really a stretch. Finally, they made it to a large oak door, cracked just enough that you could see your aunt’s silhouette sitting behind an elegant red desk, glasses perched on her nose, pen in hand, eyes married to the computer screen. Mrs. Rivera left you by the door, and you almost spun on your heel and walked away. But of course, that would be too easy.

“Come in child. Stop standing in the doorway.”

Your blood froze in your veins. You pushed the door open and stolled in, tripping over the lion skin rug, stumbling a bit before catching your balance. Harsh wisps of breath rushed past your aunt's lips and the chair creaked as the weight lifted from it.

You straightened your back, staring fearfully into the cold gray eyes that trailed over your face and down your clothes.

The woman began moving slowly around you, manicured nails and boney fingers tracing over the outline of your clothes and jaw, running through your wild mane and down your hands, inspecting the bitten off nails. As she walked, she muttered things like “hair won’t do” and “horrible posture” before she stood back in front of you.

“You simply won’t do,” she said sternly.

The words hit hard. You may have been expecting something like this, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“You look like you’ve been sleeping with the horses. Your nails are pitiful. Your skin is far too light.”

She gripped your jaw, tilting your head up harshly to expose your still slightly chubby neck.

“Can you ride a horse?”

The question was sudden and it caught you off guard, but you answered as quickly as your brain would allow.

“N-no. I’ve never ridden before.”

The woman sighed loudly, hot puffs of air pouring out of her flared nostrils.

“That’ll have to change. Starting tomorrow, you will be taking riding lessons from the stable boy. Every lady should have the basic skills of riding,” her tone was cold and brisk as she looked away and perched back at her desk.

“You’re dismissed. Dinner is at 6. Don’t be late. You may roam the grounds.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her niece and immediately went back to work, not bating another eyelash as you fled hastlessly from the room, your eyes welling with tears as stress and fear washed over you, although more relieved that it was over and you could finally do something for yourself. You’d start by ditching these God forsaken shoes.

You made your way around the back door of the house, more by pure necessity than memory, simply logically thinking the best way around in the expansive flooring. When you made it, a smile broke across your face as you unfastened the painful shoes, kicking them off in a sloppy jumble by the door before opening the heavy door, the heat of the afternoon hitting your face, not that you minded.

As you stepped out, bare feeting meeting hot cement, you stripped the cardigan from your shoulders, draping it over a random, sun baked chair. You tore off through the grass, laughing giddily, breeze blowing wisps of your hair, skirt fluttering delicately over your skin. It would be difficult to do anything in the blasted thing, but you wouldn’t give yourself enough time to strip down into something better, opting to enjoy the last of the day while you could. And you’d start in the bright red barn your eyes immediately fell on.

~

Making your way through the soft grass that squished under the weight of your feet, you strolled into the half open barn, the soft snorts of animals bringing a smile to your lips. Just because you couldn’t ride, doesn’t mean you didn’t love the animals. You loved horses especially. They were such beautiful and majestic creatures. You’d always wanted a horse, but your family had never been able to afford one. You’d always wanted to ride, and now you could, although you didn’t understand why it was so important to your aunt.

The cool concrete felt rough beneath your feet, stray straws of hay littering the floor. It could have been a picture straight out of one of the Country Living magazines you’d kept hidden away at your parents home.

The first horse you came upon was a tall brown animal, head hung over the stall door, ears perked to attention, eyes trained on the new invader inside the barnhouse. He snorted at you and his hoof hit the barn door lightly in an attempt at getting closer. You stepped closer, slowly offering your hand out, letting the animal sniff searchingly.

“He’s looking for some sugar cubes.”

The voice came out of nowhere, interrupting your serenity, a yelp leaving your lips as your whole body jolted in the sudden fright.

You turned your head to the barn door where your driver was standing, taunt arms crossed over a broad chest, veiled from prying eyes by a lightweight flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His long legs were clad in dusty denim, mud and hay from his knees to the tops of the worn work boots.

“I’m sorry. I just like horses-”

“And you thought you’d come visit them?” he finished your sentence.

You immediately began shuffling your feet, eyes turning back to study the fading paint on the stall to keep from facing him.

Heavy footsteps hit the floor as the male moved closer until he was close enough to touch. His large, rough hand gripped your wrist lightly, bringing it up toward him. You let out a little yelp, riddled with confusion and curiosity until three small blocks were placed in your palm.

“Hold your palm out to him and don’t jerk away,” he spoke calmly, slowly urging you.

You nodded, having some sort of unkempt trust in his words as you turned back to the animal and extended your arm, palm flat, cubed sugar offered to the horse, who greedily munched them right out of your hands.

“His name’s Haechan. He’s a bit of a character.”

You nodded, drawing your now horse-slobbered hand away, opting to stroke the animal's fur from his nose to between his eyes.

“That’s an interesting name,” you said.

He hummed behind you and you heard his boots hitting the concrete as he moved away.

“Do you like animals?” he asked.

You spun around, eyes wide and shining.

“Yes! I love them! Sometimes I prefer animals over humans!”

His smile was gentle as he surveyed your physique, a dusty pink tinting his cheeks, although you thought nothing of it.

“Come on, I want to show you something,”he said, walking past you to the opposite exit of the barn.

You followed close behind, curious as to where he was taking her. Your feet fell back onto the grass, the long blades sliding between your toes as you followed in his wake. As they walked, a white picket fence came into view, not far from the barn, but oddly well hidden beneath the crest of a hill rolling through the land. Once you reached the fence, his hands curled around the boards, hoisting himself up, foot balanced on the bottom board as he climbed up, throwing a leg over one side, then the other, and jumping down. You stared at him in awestruck confusion.

“Climb over, I’ll catch you on this side.”

You didn’t know why you blindly trusted him. You didn’t know him from a random stranger in the town, but you complied, placing your foot onto the same board he had, pulling yourself up and swinging a leg over, then another. The skirt snagged in the boards a few times, one of your feet nearly slipping off the boards as you attempted to keep it pushed down. This proved to be more of a challenge as you balanced on your heels, hands clutching the top piece of wood as you contemplated how to get down now. That is, until his arms outstretched, slightly bent at the elbow, fingers parted, palms facing one another, and you knew what he wanted you to do. Taking a deep breath, you pushed off with your left foot, hands releasing your grip on the fence, letting yourself drop, eyes squeezing in slight fear that you’d soon flop hard against the green earth. But when strong hands caught your waist, arms drawing you in, broad chest breaking your fall, you braced herself against him, feet carefully being lowered until they pressed back into the earth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

His teasing tone had you pulling away, glaring playfully at him before turning and pretending to walk away, leaving him in your path.

At least, until you heard a rustling in the long grass inside the fence.

You squeaked as it grew closer taking a step back as your harsh gaze followed the rustling of the grass, positive a snake would wrap itself around your leg as it dug its venomous fangs into your soft flesh.

Needless to say, you were in for quite a shock when the small head of a brown and white calf popped up from the grass.

And you were sinking to your knees.

The calf moved toward your lowered body, sniffing at your arms until you reached out to run a hand down it’s small head and back, cooing quietly, eyes brimming with unfiltered delight as you wrapped your arms around the baby, stroking the fur of its back lovingly.

“This is Renjun. He’s my little cousin's calf.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Your cooes of joy were enough to show every emotion you were currently feeling.

Horrible aunt or not. You could certainly find worse places to be trapped. At least here you had rolling hills of green, beautiful animals to fawn over, and Jaehyun, handsome stableboy who you couldn’t wait to get to know.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

[foolforshera]

Advice for when you have so many fan fiction ideas and wanna write them all but just can't or just don't have a basic outline for them? Because I have so many She-Ra story ideas i wanna write but just can never seem to crack all of them.

You ask me for fanfic advice!? *squeeeee* Ok, ok, deep breath. Alright, I'm good, let's do this.

Here's what I would do. It sounds like you have an issue with getting rolling. Try to pick one fic that you really like the idea of, that you've kind of rehearsed out in your head, and that you think won't be too long to write (some rough guidelines below, shoot for flash fiction length). Then you need to get some time to yourself to write where you won't be disturbed (ideally, I know that doesn't always work out).

Ficlet/Drabble: 100 words

Flash Fiction: 500 words to 1,000 words

Short Story: 2,000 words

Novella: 7,500 to 30,000 words

Novel: 50,000+ words.

OK, got all that in mind? Now skip the outline and start writing the opening. That's why I said pick one that you've already thought about some because you kind of already have an idea of where you want it to go. The outline's already in your head and what you're going to do now is get it out and into a document. Don't worry about grammar, don't worry about typos, just go. If you can, get it all out in one go but it's not a big deal if you can't. Do try and finish it as soon as you can though and don't start another fic until you've got this one done (and proofed).

You'll probably get ideas while you write. That's fine. If the idea is about the one you're working on, congrats! It's your mind working on the story and feeding you ideas. If it's another fic, jot them down but don't stop on the one you're working on. If you're writing short fics, I don't think it's a good idea to try and do a bunch at once. Now if you've got a big one you're working on, like novel length, I've found that taking a short break and knocking out a short story is a good way to get around a writer's block but it's a great way to end up with fics just sitting there.

You've written something! Now, we proof! Read back through the fic and I don't mean skim, I mean actually read it. In fact, read it out loud if you can but if you can't at the very least do it in your head. You'll catch misspellings, weirdly formed sentences, and the like doing this. You'll also probably see a paragraph or two that you like but you think you can punch it up a little. Now's the time to do it. This is also why I said keep it short at first. Keeps it easier to proof quickly.

Done with all of that? Good. I'd suggest doing it one more time or you can hand it over to a beta reader if you have one. I don't. I read everything to my wife but the only ones I manage to read to her before I put them up these days are my long ones. The short ones I post without the beta reader/listener step.

Now, guess what? You've done all of that and you have a finished fic! Congratulations! Post it, if that's what you want, and then start on the next one.

There's so much more you can look into, like outlines and story structure and word choices, but in the end, the best advice I can give you is to write and write it for yourself. All of my stories are written because first and first most I thought, "I really want to tell myself this story." So come on. Tell yourself a story. I bet you can't wait to read it when you're done. :)

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Summertime on Netflix

This is what I’m gonna do... I’ll be doing more structured reviews later and most likely liveblogging suggested stuff and tagging with “Nesha Watches (Insert Title) for all liveblog posts. For this first review, I won’t be as structured, because I didn’t really plan on reviewing, so this is basically all of my comments to friends @chenoahchantel and @daintyurbanprincess that were made whilst I was watching this show suggested to me by @rbaifzau 

It didn’t take me long to be annoyed with the white boy in this show. It doesn’t take much anyways, but one episode in and I’m over him already. This dude saw her at a party, she got pushed into the pool accidentally, he gave her a dry shirt, and two minutes later tried to kiss her… TF..  

Girl, this bout to be IGNANT...

Chile... She was like, "What are you doing?" And he looked surprised. Like whet. And in episode 2 after having seen her thrice and spoken to her once, he telling his best friend, "I'm pretty sure I like her a lot." I HATE stuff like this. Why did I tell old girl I'd watch this and discuss it with her? 😭

But she like him, so like??? 😭

And her daddy, who we haven't seen yet is presumably a rolling stone. Only one negro in this town and the nigga gotta be probably running around on his wife? 🙄 I'm like, OH, so the one Black man in the show gotta be a rolling stone? And even though his wife is also highly irresponsible as a parent, she's sort of made out to be the victim of his dreams. They never portray Black mothers doing things on their own as victims. That woman was messing up left and right and it's all on her husband not being there, when that's only part of the problem.

Also, if she IS the only present parent and made the decision to do that, she should be doing it instead of leaning on Summer all of the time. 

And she got a close friend that have an obvious crush on her but she seems oblivious. I hate dis

This dude reminds me of Max Theriot. He always looked musty to me. 🤣🤣🤣 He look like him breaf stank. Him and Jack Griffo were working on something where they play soldiers and I absolutely said, "He still look like he stank" when I saw him on Instagram…

This is basically the same mold of dude and it looks moldy and should be tossed out. None for me, thanks.

But, there are moments in this show that's really cracking me up. 🤣🤣🤣 It's like, I feel like I should enjoy it for the messiness of it, but the main characters can be infuriating.

She called him an asshole and he said, "You don't even know me." No duh dipshit. She ain't know you when you tried to kiss her neither. NOR when you was talmbout you like her. 

This girl kissing her friend!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. She's gonna hurt this boy! My Gwad. He finna be discombobulated. 😭😭😭 He all happy today and she don't even see him like that. Lordt.

He walked up and she look uncomfortable AF. Her younger sister is like, "You're being weird." 🤣🤣🤣 Even SHE hip to something. He on the beach talmbout "It's hot today, don't you think?" And took his shirt off. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I like Summer's friends and feel bad for them because she really didn't treat them kindly. She used Edo whenever she was upset by Ale and then she just completely ditched Sofie on her birthday and didn't even text her or anything. Just had her waiting on her and didn't even apologize. Like, I love that she gets a chance to be human, but being an asshole to the people who you're supposed to be friends with is such an upsetting trope to me.

And the connection between her and Ale is so weird. He comes across as super predatory in the beginning and I don't understand why she liked him in the first place, but also whenever he does something by mistake, she is so angry at him, even though she's been just as inconsiderate when it comes to her friends.

NOW... HE HARASSING HER AT HER JOB. 

WOTTICE DIS HUNNY??? 

Talmbout if she got a boyfriend he'll "take care of him" 😖 After she told him to leave and he said he'd wait for her outside, she asked her coworker, "What do you do to let a guy know you like him back?"

NOW, she went outside and he's there, but her friend showed up to surprise her after work. 🤣 Whoever made this HATES me

He stole a book out her locker and left a card with his phone number. How is this the start of a romance???

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. FRIEND IS TALKING ABOUT THE KISS...He said it was perfect........

Chile... And she don't even wanna tell their other best friend. Bruh. He said, "What we have doesn't need to be discussed." Summy PLEASE tell this young man...HE TRIED TO KISS HER AGAIN AND SHE SAID, "We just talked about last night's mistake" 😭😭😭

And she done hurt my friend this way, but she worried about Maxface because his mama can't reach him on the phone??? Girl.. go.. girl...

The gag is that she got mad at Ale because she saw him talking to his ex and she had to cover for him at work, but you've now ACTUALLY put your best friend in a bad space. And he ran into her mom and little sister and looked so uncomfortable but kept it short and sweet. These are people he loves. Idk. I feel bad for him and also like she kind of a hypocrite.

That was what REALLY bothered me. I don't expect her to be perfect, by all means. Black girls should be allowed their imperfections and their mistakes, but the fact that she knows what it's like to have the people you love be so absent and that she would treat her friends this way because of one guy who she's only known for a couple of months was disappointing for her character. She could have been written imperfectly without this glaring problem that I don't believe a real person in her position would actually have. 

I think in real life, the girl who raises her sister and basically has to lift her mother up all the time would overextend herself to her friends, but instead, she just leaves them in her dust as soon as she gets some dick. 😭

He is now hanging out with her little sister. 😭😭😭She goes to school with them but she looks tiny. I'm cringing at everything.

BRUH. Like... I can't tell if they're trying to or not, but I wouldn't be surprised because he's cool with the sister too, but they've been friends a while, so I didn't think much of it until Summer hurt him.I thought she liked him earlier, so idk if he is noticing her or I just EXPECT it. 

OAN, this man realized his son had a motorcycle accident on purpose and got mad instead of concerned

At one point, they say he's been riding bikes for 20 years, and whenever his father is mad that he had his accident on purpose (which I'll come back to) he says that he's never made a mistake like that, not even was he was 4, so Ale is AT LEAST 24 and she JUST turned 18. Which is WILD to me, even though at 18 I dated someone who was 23 (he was possessive and abusive, so I have a real suspicion of age gaps). 

But, aside from that - she gets mad at him any time she sees him with his ex when It is perfectly fine to speak with your ex and whenever she did see them together, it was always innocent and she didn't give him a chance to explain.

But then, when he does something questionable, like whenever he tried to kiss her the first day they met, or whenever he came to her job to ask her out and she told him to leave but he said he was going to wait outside (toxic AF and presumptuous) she is fine with those things.

Now, back to Ale's accident. I really felt so bad for him whenever we discover he did this on purpose, because his father is mad, when they should be concerned. His mother says, "You could have died" and he agrees...

How did they not notice that meant that this young man was so disappointed with his life as a biker that he was literally suicidal? They just grazed past it and whenever he vanished on them, there wasn't a huge call to find him,even though he'd just admitted to purposefully filling a possibly fatal mistake.

I'm prepared for nothing but disappointment. ALL these people outta there. Ale's best friend is in love with his ex. 😭 IT'S SUMMER'S 18TH BIRTHDAY. MYNIGGA She really stood her other best friend up to go get some dick on a little ass boat

The little sister shot her shot! 😭😭😭 He told her she's like his little sister and she burnt off mad denna muffugga

This child drunk, walking down the street in the middle of the night without her glasses...

OMG AS I WAS TYPING THAT SHE GOT HIT BY A DAMN CAR

I was really upset by these things coming to light, and also whenever Blue gets hit by a car, because all of the reviews that I've seen on this site have been that it's a cute love story with likable characters, but nobody mentions the problematic content, the dark portions of the story that can be triggering - like suicide and alcohol incidents and literally seeing a young Black girl be hit and run by a car??? 

I wasn't prepared for that shit in a "cute love story." I think that this story is less cute and more dark than people have made it out to be, and that's one of my problems with it. It isn't marketed as a dramatic coming of age story. It's marketed as a romantic comedy, when it is more serious than that and has a lot of issues that should be considered.

The lesbian best friend is in love with her too??????????????????? I. Hate. This.

My favorite person in this whole thing is the lesbian in the background, Irene. And also Dario.

I was entertained a lot of the times. Just heavily confused because I couldn't figure out what the tone was supposed to be. 😁

In conclusion - it's maybe a dark comedy, not a cute comedy, IS a coming of age about a young Black girl who is kind of an asshole, but Black girls should be free to be assholes too. White dudes do it all the time and are valued characters. The dude is weird AF for chasing around this 17 year old girl and he's in his 20s. Idk if that's normal in Italy. It's nasty to me. Their beginning is young people foolishness and there's not much that we see their relationship built upon, but that happens, yanno. You young, tired and silly and some pushy dude makes his move whenever he see you. Slap some discount sex in a dinghy on it and you have this show. I don't recommend it, but a lot of folk loved it, so I guess it did what it meant to do.

[frosty--fantasy]

Hi! I have really enjoyed reading your story, Fruit on the Vine. It's so hard to explain but I the way you write out Tobi and Deidara's thoughts, etc. And how the plot just rolls so we'll continuously- I always finish a chapter in amazement. Out of curiosity/awe I wanted to ask, how do you write out these chapters? In other words, what is your normal writing process, easiest parts, hardest parts steps, for example when writing this story or other stories you've written??? :D

Can I first start off by saying you deserve the biggest thank you? Here it is:

THANK YOU

I’m sososo grateful to have readers like you. Thank you for this.

Besides how Tobi and Deidara had gorilla-glued themselves to my heart when I was but a babe, what keeps me going is a thought process of less on “what’s going to happen next“ and more on “what I want to see” - this way you have motivation to write out the next segment. Then it’s just about getting there! I made a very loose skeleton in a separate document of all the scenes per chapter I want, quotes/lines, emotions, etc., and I change the structure as I go.

It’s when I’m writing a chapter itself that I consider the dialogue, actions, and thoughts of each person and check if my ideas would be in character. The key, I think, is not to treat each character as someone fictional , but to apply humanity to them. Sometimes you have to put yourself in a situation, and compare that to who you’re writing about. Especially with characters from an action based anime/manga. There’s less focus on the character development of a lot secondary characters and more focus on the “what’s going to happen next”. It becomes the fanfic writer’s job to make them human (if they are human anyways loool). My favourite part of writing would definitely have to be trying to keep characters out of character. Huh?! You might think. But listen, it’s true! At least with Deidara and Tobi, I feel like canonly, they’ve been archetyped/stereotyped as the hotheaded, reckless ball of fire, and the somber, misunderstood “villain”. They’re more than that, imo.

The hardest part for me would have to be dialogue - not the words themselves per say, more like the topic of conversation. I’m not too social irl and initiating convos is a big no-no sometimes, so it rubs off in my writing. When this happens, I just ask myself if this is an extra conversation that’s leading me up to point B, or is this an essential component of the story. Then I figure out what emotions I want the reader to feel when they’re going through the dialogue. The rest is just.. yeah. Going with flow, like a normal conversation would in real life. Sometimes you can’t just type what you want the character to say, like to keep the plot going, because most people aren’t omniscient. Every time I do that, it feels forced and I have to restart.

My biggest advice would be to write, write, write and get all of your ideas down. Then go back and edit like you’re being paid like a surgeon to do it. Don’t worry about grammer and spelling till the end. By editing, I mean edit the fic as a whole. And don’t ever be afraid to remove large chunks of writing and start over - copy paste it somewhere else if you have to; you might need it later. Oh and try not to skip too many scenes. Writing ahead might seem like a good idea, but I find things just get choppy.

Anyways I think I’ve typed enough haha. Thank you for the question! It was actually a learning experience on my end, seeing as I’ve never reflected on my writing techniques. I feel like I wrote an essay, so sorry about that, but hopefully it was insightful! 

[chocobutt-trash]

Hiya! You write beautifully and you're probably sick of me saying that by now because I say it all the time and every comment I make on all your fics.. But there's many times when I'm engaging with your writing that I need to pause and just say "wow." So it got me thinking that you've probably read a lot of interesting books and I was wondering if you would share some of your favorite fiction titles. It's almost blasphemy to talk about non fanfiction on tumblr but I am quite curious. Thank u

*waves*Hey there - thanks so much for this ask, it’s something I relish being asked because there’s nothing I like more than talking about my favourite books ;)

First off I’m still super flattered you enjoy my writing so much! I have a long way to go before reaching the calibre of those I look up to, but with more practice, and wider reading, there’s always the chance, haha.

Blasphemy? Never!

So: books and authors I adore.

Right up at the top we have to have Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall. Mantel’s prose is absolutely exquisite, and she’s one of the most enjoyable authors around. Wolf Hall is the first in a fantastic trilogy covering the rise of Thomas Cromwell to power in Tudor England, but honestly, Mantel could write about de-greasing a kitchen sink and the prose would be so damn delightful I’d read it and weep. Here, we have a hefty tome that is, essentially, a history book, and the most stunning thing is that she’s reconstructed as much as possible of the events and scenery as was at the time of the Tudors. She really got inside Cromwell’s head to write this book, and he’s such an interesting character. We often hear of the Henry VIII story from either Henry’s point of view, or those of his wives (particularly Anne Boleyn). But this, now, this comes from the unexpected track. Born to commonfolk in a small London suburb, Cromwell was never meant to gain entry into the inner circles of the English Court, and yet he ended up influencing the political and religious direction of an entire nation. This is a fantastic character study of a shrewd, down-to-earth, ambitious man, who is at once a man of the people and yet so hard to fathom. Damn, just talking about it makes me want to read it again.

Filth, by Irvine Welsh, is a mainstay of mine. It’s written entirely in Scots dialect, so if you’ve not the background, you may need a translator. But Filth, like all Welsh’s novels, is amazing in its characterisation. It deals with an ordinary policeman in Edinburgh, Bruce Robertson, who, we slowly come to realise over the course of the novel, is completely morally corrupt. And it starts out with little things. Little, ‘oh, he’s probably being a bit of a jerk’ things. Little redeemable things. And since it’s all from his point of view, you’re along with him for the ride. Having a villain as the main character, first-person, and having the rabbit hole be such a subtle slip, does interesting things to your brain, to the point where, as a reader, you almost start waving away some of his actions, and part of it’s due to the sort of language Welsh employs. I love this fact, because you see how easy it is for people who do terrible things to get away with it. To make you want to give them the benefit of the doubt. Just in case they can be redeemed. There is also a hefty dose of psychological horror and existentialism, with a side order of magical realism as the tapeworm that lives in Bruce Robertson’s gut starts talking to him. The further he gets down the rabbit hole, the worse his mental health becomes. And, of course, this is Irvine Welsh we’re talking about, and I don’t think there’s even enough tags on AO3 to warn you of all the horrors this book contains within.

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, has been one of the biggest influences on my writing style. McCarthy has an incredibly unique style. It’s bare-bones writing - he need not spell out anything for the reader, and this goes to the point where he doesn’t even use speech marks to delineate conversation. The structure of the writing alone is so flawless that you don’t even need it. It’s an exercise in creating a stark, vivid post-apocalyptic world with the bare minimum of ingredients. Word choice, sentence structure, emotion. His style really isn’t for everyone, but it is so clever and utterly delicious. I read the entire thing on the verge of tears, I was so worried for the kid in the story.

Amrita, by Banana Yoshimoto, is actually not Yoshimoto’s best work in terms of style (her short story collections Sleep and Kitchen are better), but it’s such a work of art that it stands as my favourite of hers. It’s about a young woman who wakes up after being in a coma, having lost certain parts of her memory. There’s a sister who died, a younger brother with problems of the parapsychological variety, and a healthy dose of magical realism. It’s all washed over with this serene sense of nostalgia and anticipation, and on every page I felt like I was on the brink of an entirely other world, that I could just look at the world slightly differently, and it would shift.

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, by Haruki Murakami, is an experimental masterpiece. I love the fact that I basically read the entire thing and it was so well-written I didn’t even question the fact that nobody in the novel has names. That’s right, nobody’s name is mentioned even once. And there’s at least a dozen characters. This is an outstanding book that influenced anime creator Yoshitoshi ABe (creator of Serial Experiments Lain, and Haibane Renmei), and it’s utterly fantastical and out there and thought-provoking, which is not what one might necessarily think for a novel that opens with a man musing at great length about what sort of sofa is best to sit upon.

Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell (no, not the comedian, the other one), is also experimental in nature, and is sublime in the way it packages up its stories. Mitchell has an immense amount of talent; there are multiple plotlines that spans centuries and he is somehow able to write convincingly well in each genre style, from nineteenth-century colonial memoirs to ‘70′s crime drama to futuristic post-apocalyptic fiction. I read a lot of ship logs from century-old expeditions, and the segment The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing is absolutely spot-on. There’s real beauty in this book, and please, for the love of god, read the book rather than watch the film, because beautiful as the film is, it does not come close to capturing that sense of wonder that the book does.

Dune, by Frank Herbert, has to be up here because not only is Dune a fantastic example of eco-fiction, but Herbert breaks the cardinal rule of not having more than one point of view in a paragraph and somehow I still love him. Conventionally, I prefer sticking to a single point of view in an entire scene, because otherwise the narrative is messy, and not in a fun way, more in a kind of sticks-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth-like-mashed-potato kind of way. Bleh. However, Herbert routinely switches perspective in the same scene, sometimes during the same paragraph, and occasionally during the same sentence. He’s pretty much the only writer I can stand who does this (barring Stephen King on the odd occasion) and it’s mainly because one of the principal themes in Dune is the use of Bene Gesserit magic, which is a glorified way of saying ‘using psychological warfare on others’. Words are a weapon, and it’s imperative to the plot of the story that the reader sees the effect of these words on the characters’ mental states. So yeah, it’s meant to be a sci-fi eco-warrior novel, but it ends up immensely psychological. And that is a very worthwhile read.

I think I’ve covered the main ones that tend to hover up near the top of my mind. Again, thank you so much for this ask, it was great fun to answer.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Hello! I was wondering if you've seen The Last Jedi and if you have, any opinions on it. Thanks!

I have seen it! Thanks for asking! :) Heads up, in case people missed my first comment on it the day it came out, I don’t have an enthusiastic perspective toward The Last Jedi. I don’t dislike the film, but it also didn’t grip me. It’s “okay”. So for those of you who are looking for an excited buddy to scream with, I am not your person. But if you are looking at having a fun, thoughtful discussion about the pros and the cons of the film, I am happy to do so with you.

In truth, I think one of the things I enjoy most about the new Star Wars trilogy is the discussion coming out of them. I was at a party a few days ago where we all got into such a long, deep, fascinating, and passionate discussion that we had to pass around a key, and whoever held the key could talk, and everyone else had to listen; we all had that many opinions on it, and it was cool to hear. There were many things we agreed with, other things we didn’t, but everyone’s perspective in the conversation was uber cool. I love that. I love to discuss the new SW movies more than watch them!

I can’t go into every thought I have on the movie now, but I’m happy to share some overarching thoughts! Ya’ll are free to ask for more specifics or opinions on certain things with TLJ, of course! 

Note: there are spoilers in the commentary below!

Plot in TLJ

Personally for me I felt as though the plot were strangely scaffolded. Maybe I’ll alter my opinion following a second viewing. But what I felt was that the plot was more cartilaginous than something with good backbone. Rather than having sound structure, with clearly defining points, it had a strange flowing, river-like structure that didn’t altogether convince me.

There were also some unnecessarily long parts to the plot. I’ve seen this mentioned two billion and five hundred sixty three point four times already, but I do agree with it: the casino run with Finn and Rose, while having some charm, was unnecessarily long compared to how it needed to be told. Technically story-wise you could have cut about ninety percent of it and lost little of what needed to be overarchingly told. 

I also think the drama with Holdo was unnecessarily complicated and tangled. Simple communication could have solved three plot twists. While there is totally feasible reason to withhold information, the writers never demonstrated that reason, thus leaving it all contorted.

Another big plot gap is something people have talked about a lot: Snoke dying without us knowing anything about him. Some of my friends have talked about how this can have a deep philosophical meta meaning, how it illuminates that we as viewers expect villains and villains of a certain vein, and get caught off-guard when it doesn’t happen that way, etc. But personally for me I feel as though it’s shaky writing. Viewers shouldn’t come away with so little satisfaction about a character who was meant to be a contending force; if the viewers leave like that, it means the execution - whatever the intent - was unsuccessful.

So the truth is, Snoke died without us knowing ANYTHING about this character. Where did he come from? What were his motivations? What’s his background, his… anything? He’s just this vague villain bad Sith guy that Kylo has killed and that’s it. Is there more to this villain that we can show without getting into the books and extended universe material? They really should have given us more by this point in time in the story. They can rectify it through Episode XI, but at the moment, it’s shaky plot-writing ground. 

Originality of TLJ

One of the big criticisms of TFA (something I constructively criticized myself) was that it rehashed the plot of A New Hope. Lots of people now seem disjointed because TLJ seems so original - or at least, that’s what I’ve heard from many people. TLJ being more original was refreshing for me.

I would say that it is original enough and that is good. Nevertheless, it’s still not as out-in-the-blue as I’ve seen some other companions of mine claim. In both TLJ and Empire, we have: 1). A rebel base being cornered; rebels having to fight; rebels having to flee, 2). A powerful, Force-sensitive young individual seeking out a Jedi recluse for training and assistance, 3). That Force-sensitive individual receiving some training after resistance, but ultimately making choices the Master finds questionable, 4). Characters being chased by ship by their enemies while the good guys’ ship(s) are in poor quality and need repairs, fuel, etc., 5). The characters go to a well-to-do location to find someone to help them in their rebel efforts, but that assistant turns out to be a traitor and turn them in to the Empire/First Order, and…. yeah. There are still lots of parallels to be made between TLJ and Episode V.

Another thing one of my friends pointed out is that many audience members might feel confused because TLJ ends in an analogous point to not The Empire Strikes Back… but Return of the Jedi. For ROTJ is when Luke is tempted to join the Dark Side and Darth Vader kills his master. We see that parallel with Kylo Ren and Snoke and Rey. But if we’ve already had that big plot event from ROTJ in the middle chapter of the new series… what’s next? That could be a reason why many people are thrown off by what was done in Episode VIII.

But personally for me, the ending material in Episode VIII was the best. The three scenes that stand out to me are: 1). The silent moment, 2). Luke being a badass in front of Kylo, and 3). Kylo killing Snoke, Kylo and Rey fighting together, but Kylo stilling holding onto the Dark Side and taking Snoke’s position. Those were all good moments that I quite like.

Oh. And the visuals. I loved the visuals throughout the movie. Very aesthetically well-done film.

Characterization in TLJ

Characters ranged from really well-written to… the writers randomly flapping hands. 

Poe and Kylo Ren were great highlights to me. I found them to be very well-written, founded on good motivations and well-established character. I do feel as though Kylo Ren is one of the more complex characters, who has layers of reasons and emotions, so every decision he makes is well-founded with who he is. And every scene with Poe was one that I appreciated.

Rose was good and what they did with her writing-wise works, and technically you don’t need more background or anything with her… but I would have liked more. I have seen some criticisms on Rose and understand the validity of those; I moreof am saying that Rose as a character is written consistently, with fun personality, and with some fun interest. I liked her on screen. Sniffed out the romance plot a while away and don’t think it was necessary-necessary, but don’t mind it either, because of course that happened, like it does with every other movie out there.

Finn’s characterization was… like the last movie… very rough. Poorly defined. Haphazard. Inconsistent. Wild writer hands flapping willy nilly. John Boyega’s good acting covers that up as well as it can, and makes Finn “feel” like a consistent character. But if you actually look at his choices and motivations across the two films, there is very little pattern, rhyme, or reason to it. Finn is a nice character when you don’t analyze him, though, so I wish that they’d done a better job with his personality and personality arc. That character deserves to be written well.

Now. For Luke. I agree with Mark Hamill on this one. Luke’s characterization was given justification and reasoning, and I get what they were trying to do, but… I don’t think it works. One reason it doesn’t work is that Luke has already learned the lessons he was struggling with in TLJ: he was tested by Yoda for the Dark Side and failed, he saw that someone turned to the Dark could be restored, he saw that giving up would never lend good results, and on and on and on. These aren’t just lessons that he’d need to relearn, but things smashed into the core of Luke’s personality and philosophy and core. And Luke’s struggle is very obviously working against a lot of common sense, which Rey delivers in a few sentences, and then Luke starts being turned to being convinced (there is a slow turn for him, but still). And lots of this goes against most of what we know about Luke’s established character, even when we consider how peoples’ personalities and views change over time. Last.. Luke’s internal conflict felt very unrealistic for his age and maturity. That sort of struggle he was going through I’ve seen lots of people in their mid twenties already have a firm grasp and understanding of. I shouldn’t be out-wising Luke Skywalker. I’m twenty-five.

That said, Mark’s acting was altogether fun and compelling to watch. He delivered very well.

Overarching Opinion

Personally I never felt “caught up” in the excitement of the movie - not that there wasn’t action, but I couldn’t get invested enough to worry or be pulled in. There was never a point where I was grumpy or angry at the movie… just didn’t get dragged into the adventure. It’s one of those movies that I came out of feeling it was “okay” but not astounding. I don’t dislike the movie and I’m not in the wave of complainers or haters or anything. It’s just not something that clicked greatly with me. There were some scenes I quite liked, some elements I quite liked, and lots of things that I’ll always love to debate about. It’s just not the movie that was made-made for me.

[chemorygunko]

The dread of facing your 3D work and money obligations

The 3D life that I lived in order to get me to my current spiritual evolution was - by human standards - a traumatic fucking train wreck.

In all honesty, there’s very little of the ‘bad’ stuff that hasn’t happened to me… I’ve been homeless, bankrupt, committed to a suicide and depression ward for six months, had two nearly successful suicide attempts, survived a pregnancy and had a child on my own, drove myself to hospital in labour, lost my home and all my assets, lost my business, lost the love of my life, been defrauded, been cheated, been catfished, been abandoned, been rejected, worked in the sex industry, been abused and raped, battled an eating disorder, had countless medical issues, including chronic diseases like epilepsy and like 30 operations as a child…. and that’s not even the tip of the iceberg, to be honest.

Most people can’t listen to my life story for very long - it was pretty damn traumatic to say the least.

But you know what scared me the most, for the longest period of time in my life? Working a 9 to 5 job in an office environment.

Without fail, almost every single day I walked into those environments, I hated it.

I used to feel the most horrible dread building up in me when I had to go into work in the morning - but I never linked it to my ongoing depression, need for medication, constantly getting ill, and my lack of will to live at all. Somehow that connection escaped me.

But, once I was partway into my dark night of the soul, and all that stuff had been forcibly taken away from me, I realized how much happier I was without all of that around me - and what unnecessary pressure that all placed on my life…. pressure that was causing ongoing depression and suicidal tendencies.

I was fat, I was unhealthy, I was unhappy - and I felt trapped. I felt like I had no choice but to participate, because money is survival. You need money to live.

Money is survival

When your alarm goes off at what feels like an ungodly hour - somehow always just short of ‘enough’ sleep - and you reach over to turn it off, you don’t quite properly go back to sleep, do you?

I remember, often, waking up, and in that pause of the snooze alarm, doing a full scan… is there anything ‘wrong enough’ with me for me to call in sick today? Because, immediately, what I could feel was that I didn’t feel like facing the working world again that day.

And then mental calculation of sick days used begins, and you wonder if you can swing it…. and if you’re up for dealing with the heavy disapproval that you know your boss will have when you do go back to work?

But, you get up and go in anyway on most days, because you have to - because money is how you stay alive, and if you don’t have money, you can’t pay your bills.

And even though you’re earning money, it never quite seems to be enough… so even though this job is paying the bills (mostly, hopefully), you still sit with constant money worries.

This fact alone - that you still can’t make ends meet always - is enough to make you resent going into work.

More, more, more

That isn’t the end of it though, because when you get to work, you have to perform. Really perform.

The job market is tight and there are number of people who are waiting to take your job from you, and so you can’t afford to give your boss any reasons to question your value. And so you perform and push yourself, finding the energy reserves somewhere.

And you have to compete with colleagues around you, making yourself stand out, reaching for that next level - because monthly costs are ever-increasing and salaries are not keeping pace, and so the only way to improve your lot is to advance in your career.

This is a pretty tall order when you’re not competitively minded, and when you’re used to benchmarking against yourself.

And so you work like a dog all week, probably at night and over weekends too, and in the moments in between, you collapse in exhaustion, grateful simply to pay the bills, and with no energy left to do anything other than be a couch potato and sleep.

You’re wearing a mask

As tired as you are though, when you get to work, you aim to perform - you push yourself.

And that’s not the only mask you wear…

I had a friend who used to say…. “The irony of life is that we have jobs we hate, to earn money to pay for a house we need to live near enough to work, a car we need to drive to and fro from from work, clothes we’d only ever wear at work, and items we’d only ever use for work.”

We do a job we don’t like, to make money we don’t need, to impress people we don’t get along with.

You wear clothes you wouldn’t choose to wear if it wasn’t required. And these clothing items are uncomfortable and hot, and cost a lot of money in many cases.

You have to hide ‘unacceptable' parts of your appearance… and can kiss a corporate job goodbye if you have anything alternate, like tattoos and piercings.

You have to hide the unacceptable human parts of you as well…. your emotions, your reactions, your feelings, your religion, your lifestyle… or at least the parts of it that are not secular or the norm.

You pretend to be subservient to people you do not truly respect, and you have to be polite and friendly to people you really don’t like.

You can’t be loud, noisy or distracting, or talk about anything that others would deem as shocking…. which is a tall order when you are as naturally shocking as many of us tend to be.

All spiritual types carry a a strong rebel archetype - it helps us to break the boundaries and seek new ways of being that are outside of the norm, to stand on our own and get the extreme experiences that will become our growth path.

But this rebel archetype makes us take risks and chances, go into edgy topics and ideas; places the world naturally deems ‘shocking’, are, in fact, home base for souls like us.

The target on our heads

This is what I would classify as one of the “you’re not going insane, this is really happening to you” set of messages. In fact, I’ve had clients cry with relief when they receive this next learning.

There’s a saying in dating…. you can’t fake chemistry. The truth is you can’t fake any emotion really, because we understand them energetically, we know what they ‘feel' like.

The reason we all have these common understandings of emotion, is because we’re all connected to the morphic field, which is like the internet of everything and all information, floating all around us. Our bodies are like digital devices that upload and download information (content) from this internet.

Two articles on the morphic field for you to read:

http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/the-morphic-or-holographic-field-explained-the-missing-information-link-you-ve-been-looking-for-to-tie-the-puzzle-together

http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/creation-or-evolution-the-spiritual-answer-how-it-all-works

So one of the other interesting energy dynamics that takes place in the field is that higher energies are recognized automatically - and many of us spiritual types, we tend to have dominant energies.

Basically dominant energy means you are higher on the Human Consciousness Scale - read more at http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/the-human-consciousness-scale

This recognition automatically puts a target on our heads - and it’s why you feel like everyone is competing with and trying to one-up you… they actually are.

LOL…. you’re not paranoid; they really are out to get you.

Ego is all about identity and hierarchy - superiority or inferiority.

Read more on ego at http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/a-simple-analogy-to-understand-ego-with-7ps-of-ego-questions

So ego seeks to establish identities in an environment into a hierarchical structure - comparing elements and saying these aspects are superior to those.

Because ego doesn’t look for balance however, when it feels threatened (inferior), it seeks to rectify this by making itself superior again - by making the other identity inferior.

So yes…. your seemingly-evil boss is really out to get you and make you feel small in many cases.

For me, this realized right at the end of my adventures in the corporate world, as I was sitting in a company brainstorm session the one day.

If you follow my writing and teaching, you’ll know that I’m an ideas person, and this has always been the case. In fact I’m an advertising anomaly in this regard - I will keep on generating ideas until you make me stop.

So, sitting in a meeting with me, if you ask a question, it’s kind of like typing an instruction into Google… I return search results - really quickly.

And as we were sitting in the meeting, and I was putting forward a few throw away ideas, my then-boss turned around and looked straight at me and said, quite brutally, “Do you think we don’t know how smart you are?”

I was taken aback at the time - and really hurt and offended. So I stayed quiet… but the question stayed with me for a while.

For one, these were my throw away ideas, before I’d put any real thought into it - and this made me very aware of how much I intimidated the boss in question.

To be honest, if he was that intimidated by the throw away stuff, then the answer is no - he doesn’t know how smart I am. I’d be too scared to put in the mental effort around him and show him.

This same person had the habit of hearing my ideas and presenting them as their own a few days later, as well as constantly shifting goalposts and then belittling me because they’d changed what they wanted - again.

And so I also started asking myself - why did they have me there? It wasn’t because they were happy with my work - everything I did, they managed to find fault somehow.

It clearly wasn’t for ideas, because the fastest way to piss everyone off seemed to be to have lots of good ideas. Unless of course those ideas were delivered privately and someone could present them as their own…. and then it hit me like a ton of bricks:

I was there to make everyone else look smart. By looking stupid and being one-upped.

I’m smart and organized and efficient - and you’re not going to doubt that when you meet me. And that puts a massive target on my head, because when other people can show themselves as smarter than me, then that must mean that they are automatically the smartest.

By knocking me down from my inherent and energetic position of superiority, they assumed the superior role.

So, I realised, my job was actually to give ideas that other people could say no to, so they could feel smarter for knowing better than me.

This was why I had to give ideas even though they would be rejected or presented as belonging to someone else… they needed to knock me down in order to feel superior.

They didn’t want the actual work from me, or my mind applied to it; they wanted to say no to whatever I presented because they ‘know better’ and can see what I did wrong.

But it’s great to have me there as a back up in case they need someone to blame for it going wrong. Or to have someone to actually save the day.

Same reason your boss wants to micromanage you… it’s about creating as many opportunities as possible to remind you that they are superior to you and know better.

At this point I realized that I could no longer deal with corporate and I bowed out permanently.

Speaking of corporate…

Every day you are traveling with people, and walking into environments, that are focused on consumerism and making money.

That is what business is - to sell, you need buyers, and sales generate profits.

Sales and money.

But your mind doesn’t quite work like that anymore does it? And each time you evolve and change, it gets harder and harder to buy into that world.

Your life is getting simpler, and your needs are less - but somehow your monthly expenses and the cost of living still seem ridiculous, don’t they?

You don’t know how to feel serious about deadlines and month end anymore, because your view of time is changing.

You don’t feel the urgency to be punctual and time driven anymore, and this is also down to your changing perspective of time.

Each time you surge, and the rebel archetype grows in you, you find yourself getting more and more frustrated with bureaucracy and petty rules and admin… and oh wow, is there ever a lot of admin involved in just about every aspect of life today!

And it’s not just your company, because chances are you are working in an office building, and near a shopping mall… which is where you can escape to on your time off and lunch breaks.

So you’re surrounded by consumerism and people whose sole focus is money, and at the same time you’re trying to simplify your life and become more non-attached.

You’re learning new understandings and perceptions of time, and you’re trying to force yourself to stick to deadlines and schedules and month end… and doesn’t it always feel like the next month end is around the corner? That the next load of bills is due?

And then you’re walking into an office building concentrated full of people who are feeling similar to you, and don’t want to be there either, which is dragging the energy down even more.

And that same environment is entirely artificial…. no open windows, fresh air or natural light in most cases. And you don’t get anywhere near enough sunlight.

And not only are you constantly sitting underneath electric lights (which messes with your crown chakra), you’re surrounded by electrical devices and EMF frequencies such as wifi and mobile networks.

All of this to (hopefully) pay your bills and make it to your next paycheck…. and you wonder why you feel depressed and that life isn’t worth living?

Or you wonder why you can’t seem to get excited and motivated about life?

Career and purpose… we’ve been sold a lie

This is one of the ugliest deceptions we face - that a career is a gift and that it can be your purpose.

"If you do what you love and it’s your purpose, then you will never work a day in your life.” What hogwash!

I do what I love - I live my spiritual journey and help other advanced souls. But it still feels like work - damn hard work at times.

The worst part of that pressure though? The monthly income required.

I noticed this when I first started my own business and was really responsible for my monthly income generation - month end always seemed to be coming up.

I remember saying, a few times in fact, that the only day I could rest was the afternoon of payday: the next day I was immediately back to start meeting the next month’s salary bill.

Because even if you don’t get “lucky enough” to find your career-purpose-passion, you still have to earn a monthly income… and that has become the main point of a job for everyone: monthly income.

It’s only about money and reward nowadays - and it has to be, because the costs just keep rising, exponentially.

There’s no time to think about anything else except meeting quotas and targets, making payroll, meeting expenses.

And when you spend so much mental time and energy focused on something so overwhelming, like survival and money, it becomes an all-pervading habit that seeps into every single area of your life.

So even when you do take the rare time off to rest and try and rejuvenate, you don’t seem to rest. Your inner voice and mental process are running rampant with the thoughts you’ve entrained into it, and you just can’t stop focusing on survival and money.

And since likability ensures your survival at a societal level (read more at http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/what-is-the-system ), you are constantly making yourself smaller, fitting into a smaller box, and shaving parts of yourself off to be more likable, to not rock the boat, to not cut off the steady supply of income you need to ensure your survival.

And you wonder why you’re unhappy with your life… why you’re depressed?

Money has become your all-consuming master, and it’s conflicting with the changes that are happening inside you.

The best advice I can give you? Surrender - do NOT resist this change.

Yes, there will be upheaval… you may quit your job on the spot - I did a few times. You may have to move somewhere smaller, take a less stressful job, or one closer to home.

You may have to adjust your lifestyle, send your kids to public school, forgo insurances, lose assets… but if that train has started rolling in your life, there’s very little you can do to stop it.

So surrender, because you are only going to cause yourself endless pain - and extend this period for way longer than it needs to be - if you resist it.

I can tell you that you will be grateful it’s all gone on the other side, but the transition will feel like hell at times.

Pain tells you where to look

These elements of life that are causing us unhappiness are there to tell us that there is a problem there.

Society taught us to “not make a fuss”, and to "stick our heads in the sand"… and now we feel compelled to do something about all this.

And this is where you’re most likely going to trip up and have change in this situation be forced onto you…. you’re just gonna get tired of shutting up, sitting down and maintaining the status quo.

As a consummate rebel and shitstirrer, I can tell you that it will feel scary in those moments, and you’re gonna make sudden and impulsive choices just because you are so gatvol (SA word for tired and just plain had enough, translates as “bum/hole full") of the stupid rules and willfully ignorant people.

It’s going to become harder and harder for you as you progress on your journey, to fit in, to care, to believe that any of this actually matters. Because the whole journey is about learning that NONE of this ‘reality' matters at all.

The world is changing and you are changing, and you’re experiencing these things because we’re seeing where the problems lie in the world and in society. It’s designed to bug us, so that we are motivated to change it and do something about it.

You’re growing exponentially at the moment, and in most cases the chasm between you and most people in the ordinary world is increasing daily - it’s harder and harder to understand them and how they choose to live.

This is why so many big souls becomes hermits and remove themselves from secular life.

You are feeling the contrast, conflict and cognitive dissonance of the changes that are happening inside you, and this discomfort with your career or job is about the urgency you feel to start making changes to create a different world.

It’s meant to bug us - otherwise we wouldn’t do anything to fix it.

The growth you experience is going to roll over into your life, and eventually your life will begin to look different. And you will want the ways it looks different.

Many of us are on ascetic paths - and that means eschewing the comforts and luxuries of the secular world, so it’s hard for us to care about money and building wealth and success - and the dark is fighting back by making money more and more important, with the hope that it eclipses anything else we would want to care and think about.

You are changing, and so your life will too.

These feelings you’re having serve only to show you the parts of your life that need attention and change.

It’s a changing world

For a job as big as this, it stands to reason that you’d want strong players on your team - and that happens to be us.

We volunteered for these roles, and we’ve been working our whole lives towards this.

So stuff is gonna annoy us so when we see where problems lie, and then we’ll start doing things to fix them.

This is how we’re gonna change the world.

This pain is just the symptom - it’s not the problem at all.

The pain serves only to make you question what we can do about this, and start finding ways that we can change this.

Focus on that - give up your right to complain about it.

Those moments of trial are tough to go through, but they also offer the greatest opportunity for you to see solutions to these problems.

If you give up your right to complain about it, to be offended, then you make mental space for those answers to arise where the complaints used to live.

WE are the transition team - and we’re here because we can do this.

Just remember NOT to take it personally LOL.

(Of course there’s an article for personalization, thought you’d never ask: http://lifecoachestoolbox.com/index.php/personalization-on-the-ego-journey )