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thesensteawitch · 1 year ago

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Full Moon In Aries Guidance (29th September, 2023)🌝🔥

Pick A Pile Reading

Take A Deep Breath And Choose!

(Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!

I hope you're all doing great. This is a full moon reading that marks the beginning of Autumn Season. Pick a pile and read the message. It's a collective reading.

Take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1

Cards- 7 of cups, Temperance, 10 of pentacles, The World

Hello, my beautiful pile 1. This full moon is asking you to understand that what did not work out for you worked for you. You are somebody who has a lot of desires and wishes. You dream big. But because you have so many things that you want to achieve you feel frustrated. From your dream list, you may be able to act upon a few of them. And what frustrates you is the fact that you have to balance between things as you're handling so much at one time. And you also feel a lot of resentment towards yourself as there are wishes on the list that you aren't able to act upon yet. See my dear pile 1 the message is that you can do anything but not EVERYTHING! You have to let go of the controlling attitude. You can't control everything that happens in your life. The reason why your wish did not come true is because God/Source was protecting you. So this full moon, work on letting go of past achievements and failures. Do one thing at a time. Focus! Communicating with your family or friends may be of help. I see that your family is always there for you. It can be blood family or your soul family. Your life is demanding you to start a new chapter but you are a bit hesitant. A thought of somebody or something important to you is stopping you from starting this new journey. Some of you may need to move out of town or start your own business. You need to heal yourself to heal the situation. This is not the time to put bandaids on the bullet holes. Do not start this journey wounded. Give yourself time to heal. Go for a vacation or do something exciting at your home. Journal about what you truly feel.

I am sending letters to people who need healing and guidance. Drop a ‘🩷’ or ‘Letter’ in the comments and I will drop a message in your Tumblr inbox. The letter will only cost $2.

Pile 2

Cards- 9 of swords, 10 of swords, The Magician, 9 of wands

Hello, my dear pile 2. First of all, tell me how are you doing? For a minute I went silent looking at your cards. I am sorry but it pissed me off. There are serious self-worth issues here! And I mean it! It's SERIOUS! What on earth are you thinking? You're doubting the vision you have for yourself, someone you are capable of becoming in the future. I see that you also struggle with money. My heart is with you pile 2. You can be the magician of your life. But you're disappointed because people are not even appreciating all the magic you have created till now. But who needs others to validate our magic? You need to have faith in your capabilities first. Believe me when I say this, your mind is your greatest enemy right now. It's fooling you and you're letting it! Your soul, heart, and mind must be your allies, not enemies. This full moon is asking you to release the hurt that you and someone else have inflicted upon you. My advice is to surrender to the divine and have faith in his plans. Keep doing the right thing, keep performing your magic. Don't put so much pressure on your shoulders. Listen to your higher self. You already are who you think you should be. I don't know why but I am also getting the message that you need to start focusing on making yourself financially strong. This full moon you need to make a long-term plan for your career. And allow yourself to genuinely rest. Take care of your health. I mean it! God bless you.

I am sending letters to people who need healing and guidance. Drop a ‘🩷’ or ‘Letter’ in the comments and I will drop a message in your Tumblr inbox. The letter will only cost $2.

Pile 3

Cards- 4 of cups, Queen of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 7 of swords

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. So this full moon in Aries you're asked to get up from your work table and give a thought to the things that you have been ignoring. I see polarities here. Where everything seems good on the outside but is not. On the other hand, everything is good in your surroundings but your heart can't accept it. So to avoid confronting and seeing the truth of the situation you throw yourself into work. No doubt that you work hard. But now is not the time to keep working blindly as if there's nothing more to this world. Do not start a new project trying to excuse yourself. Your mind is tricking on you. This full moon ask yourself what is that you need to release. Your problem is that you do not even know what's there to release. You aren't allowing yourself to feel the hurt someone else has caused you. You can't see that your mind is tricking you. It's a coping mechanism. Your mind thinks that you won't be able to handle the truth so it is trying to put you in a delusion. It's time that you realize the truth and let it go. Forgive someone and move on. Use this time to reflect upon your life patterns and see what you're missing. There's a blessing in your cards. You are blessed. I also feel that you are very disciplined. I really admire that quality. But your subconscious needs your attention now.

I am sending letters to people who need healing and guidance. Drop a ‘🩷’ or ‘Letter’ in the comments and I will drop a message in your Tumblr inbox. The letter will only cost $2.

I hope you found this reading helpful.🐦

You can subscribe to my newsletter for free and receive helpful tips for Full Moon in Aries.

#full moon #full moon in aries #harvest moon #tarot readings #general reading #message for the collective #full moon reading #tarot reader #psychic #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #tarotblr #free tarot #aries full moon #the witch speaks

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fraddit · 10 months ago

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Okay, here we go. January’s not over yet, so I can squeeze my 2023 review post in just under the wire. I know it’s not technically necessary to do stuff like this, but it’s something I’ve done at least the last several years, and I do think I get some benefit from the ritual and also perhaps some benefit from forcing myself to type it all out and post it where others can see it (although nobody needs to actually read it. It’s probably gonna get long.)

Last year was the first year of me doing this, I think, where I pulled up all my original posts for the year, and had posted no original works of artistic merit. No photoshop edits, no architectural models of sets, no whatever else I sometimes do. Normally that would make me feel pretty shitty about myself, but I sat with it all for a while, and, yeah, I didn’t post any “stuff of merit”. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do anything. And as someone recovering from a nasty addiction to horrible self-criticism, I think it’s important to stop and take purposeful notice of accomplishments, even neutrally, although positively is the goal.

And now I know why I put off making this post all month, because I’m already starting to get emotional, just thinking about what the bulk of this post is going to be about.

In a lot of ways 2023 was a really good year for me. I did a lot of behind the scenes stuff that’s been really great. I made an awesome new friend. I started therapy again. I started morning pages journaling. I started bullet journaling. I’m in a really good place right now. Which feels like such a fucking jinx to even think, let alone type out. But at least for the moment, it’s true.

But the thing from 2023 that feels too big to me to even look at really is this:

I don’t remember making that post now, I just found it in my regular review process and it knocked me on my ass. But apparently I made that post at 9:30 pm on December 31, 2022. So, basically the first post I made of 2023. Or at least close enough.

And that little post feels like a big deal to me, because two or three years before that, I’d sworn off writing. I’d decided my relationship to it was just too complicated and fraught and difficult, so I should just give up and put my efforts elsewhere, toward interests and hobbies that weren’t so complicated or fraught or difficult. I had decided that it was time to just be realistic and accept that writing was just not something I was cut out to do and move on with my life.

But here’s the context for that decision, or at least a high level overview that is hopefully succinct and also steers mostly clear of being too trauma dumpy. And it probably reads like a cliched former-gifted-kid humble brag, but it's how my life went so, it's what I've got to work with:

I’ve always been naturally gifted at stringing together words and sentences in a way that’s coherent and organized and readable. Every teacher I’ve ever had, all the way back to elementary school has told me so. All the standardized tests told me I was in the 99th percentile in most subjects, but especially the one’s related to reading and writing. My AP English teacher senior year of high school told me I was the best writer she’d had in any of her classes in her decades long teaching career.

I flunked freshman English and had to retake it over summer in order to move onto the next grade. I got Ds in English for basically all the rest of high school. I know in my heart of hearts that my teacher junior year fudged the math to give me that D, so I didn’t fail. I graduated high school a semester late.

Because, while I may have been good at writing, I’ve never been good at writing. Any natural talent I may have had was utterly paralyzed by my executive function issues (thank you adhd and autism) that generally made it impossible for me to actually put words on the page when it mattered.

Despite all that, I apparently thought it was a good idea to go to college and get a degree in English Creative Writing. I was going write best selling novels. All my professors told me my work was great. When I managed to turn work in that is.

I’ve dropped out of college like two or three times. Last time was idk, 2019 apparently (had to go look it up). I was almost done. Just another semester left or so. But instead I got burned out, had a breakdown in the parking garage before finals because I hadn’t written any of my term papers, and then just drove away and never went back.

And it’s not like I wasn’t trying. Which is probably the most painful part, honestly. I tried meds multiple times. I read self help and how to books. I got an electric typewriter because surely that would fix everything. In my 20s, I did use it to bang out the world’s roughest rough draft for the first "book" (I use that term very loosely here) in a trilogy I concocted. I tried handwriting. I tried voice to text. And there was a beautiful period where I was working on co-writing a much too ambitious fic with a friend where I manage to write several thousand words.

But I have never in my life been able to write On Purpose, with any sort of consistency or longevity or confidence or ease. I had folders of wips and snipets of ideas that all amounted to nothing. I had what all my teachers always told me I had: tons of wasted potential. My only tried and true method that had gotten me most of my results in school was to procrastinate until the night before and use the pressure and adrenaline to puke out a paper just in the nick of time. But even that method eventually failed me (hence the dropping out). And even if it hadn’t, that’s not a sustainable system. That’s not a way to actually get shit done on a regular basis. That’s not a way to enjoy a craft.

So I quit.

I decided, this is too hard. And it makes me feel too horrible every time I fail. It’s too easy to hate myself every day that I don’t write when I think I should. I decided I just wasn’t built for this and gave the fuck up.

That was like three years ago.

So for two years, if I had an idea for a story or a fic, no I didn’t. I’d just ignore it. I did other things. But the ideas were still there. I’d still think about them. Sometimes I even wrote little snippets down. But it was just to get it down. It wasn’t real. I gave up writing. I wasn’t doing that anymore.

And honestly? Maybe that’s what I needed? I have no idea if things could have worked out differently had I made different choices. That’s life after all. But maybe the total lack of pressure from genuinely quitting was good for me? I’ll never know.

But what I do know is that me from a year ago made this post:

And then this post:

And then this:

Then this:

And this is what this past month has looked like for me:

It not part of my system to write on the weekends, so that’s 18 out of 23 days, I managed to show up at my desk and reliably put some effort in. I’ll fucking take it.

And what’s crazy is, it’s felt easy. It’s felt good. I like the process.

I don’t exactly love everything I’ve written. Any natural talent I may or may not have doesn’t make up for lack of practice. But If I can keep this up, I’ll have the practice too. Eventually.

It’s a learning process. I’m having to relearn a lot of skills I’d forgotten or learn new skills for the first time. For example, I’ve basically never seriously edited anything in my life, and with my new approach, I really put the rough in rough draft, so the editing is extremely necessary. But it feels good to be trying. To be gaining ground little by little.

Since I dusted off my ancient install of scrivener back in idk? June?, I’ve written over twenty-five-thousand words, which is A Lot for me. And yeah, it’s across multiple fics. And yeah, I haven’t actually finished any one fic yet and posted it. But I’ll get there. It feels crazy to know that if just keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll get there. And it feels crazy to know that I can keep doing what I’m doing. It feels like I can keep doing it indefinitely, and I’ve never felt like that before. Not in my entire life. At least not about writing.

So yeah, 2023 was a great year for me.

#whoops got pretty personal in here #just look away lol #shut up fraddit

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lennoxlorian · 9 months ago

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AND SO IT BEGINS…AGAIN...

Almost 10 years ago, I wrote the first draft that I affectionally call the shit draft to a science fiction novel. I was so proud of myself that I had actually written it in six weeks. However, things fell off.

Why now?

Let's just say 2023 was a very VERY tough for me. I can honestly say it was the worst year of my life. Anything that could have gone wrong...did. Losing my job, my car, my home... I was very discouraged. This year, things are looking up. While I'd rather not have gone through 2023 like I did, I learned A LOT about myself. I began to really find myself and look at what I really wanted out of life and what I wanted to do for the rest of it.

And what I came back to is writing.

So I made a decision. This year, I would pull this finished manuscript from 10 years ago from the depths of my computer and seriously SERIOUSLY work on this novel to eventually seek representation and publishing.

And here I am! I'm definitely going to hold myself accountable and do things differently this time like finding writer friends, critique partners, and networking and such. I will also be updating this blog with my progress.

And just for funsies, I'm making a bullet journal to give me more of a creative outlet as I'm writing to physically document my publishing journey as well.

I'll be starting with editing my shit draft to see how it holds up years later. I've always thought about it so there's definitely some new ideas, research, and plots I'm ready to add.

With that said, let "the lennox lorian project" begin...Again!

#writing #rough draft

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prettylittlelyres · 10 months ago

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2023 - My Year in Writing

Hello, friends! Happy New Year to all of you!

I hope 2024 is fabulous and fun... but also very calm and soothing, even if it needs to be a little bit boring. I think most of us need a slightly boring year after whatever mess 2023 was. All I see - all over the internet - today are posts about how 2023 was a giant mess for nearly everyone, and while that makes me feel less alone, it also makes me a little sad for everyone else who had trouble with it.

I am sure 2024 will be better, because, for goodness sake, it can't get worse. And, on the bright side, the Gävlebocken (Gävle Goat) has been gobbled up by jackdaws, and I firmly believe that to be a good omen. May 2024 bring us abundance as the goat brought abundance to the birds of Gävle. (We derve some tasty abundance.)

But, with the start of a new year comes the end of an old one, and that means it's time for me to write about all the writing I did in 2023.

This was the year I tried to be kind to myself, and I certainly succeeded in that. I'm proud of the leeway I have given myself this year, and - perhaps ironically - I have achieved more because of it. Letting myself work without pressure has always been difficult for me, but I think I finally learnt to do it in 2023.

So, here's what I did.

The best thing I did was start joining in with the writers' Discord server I joined last year. I lurked for a long time, never really piping up in the group chats, because I never really felt like I had anything to say. I didn't write anything like as much in 2022 as I wanted to (would you believe I started the year with a bullet journal page covered in New Year's Resolutions for Writing that included "finish redrafting 2 novels", "write 2 novels from scratch" and "plot another 2 novels"?) and I was upset with myself about it. At the end of 2022, I found out that I'd been quite ill for a while, and started getting better, and I decided I'd be kinder to myself from the start of 2023.

So, whenever I wrote anything, I mentioned it in the group chat where we share our daily wordcounts and achievements (no matter how "small", they are all worth celebrating), and started chatting to the other writers here and there. We had meetups on Zoom, and communal sprints on Twitch that really helped me get back into the swing of writing happily in January and February. I started to feel like a proper writer again, like part of a real community, and I can't quite express how thankful I am to the server for helping me get that feeling back.

I got 78,000 words written in the first 2 months of the year, mostly working on a character study for a story that I've put on hold until I can work out exactly what I want to happen to its characters. I've explored how they'd behave in certain situations, and thrown problems at them to see how they cope (badly!). But a story needs a storyline, and that storyline needs to be coherent, so I've mothballed the project until a good one comes along.

I also started journalling about my reading in the first few months of the year. I did an extensive study of "The Restless Dark" by Erica Waters, and absolutely loved it, filling an entire notebook with my thoughts on what was happening and what might happen next. I haven't kept up such a meticulous habit for the rest of the year, but it helped me focus on reading in a way I haven't done in previous years.

In the end I read 40 books, and the ones I enjoyed most were, "Tell Me I'm Worthless," by Alison Rumfitt, and, "All the Young Men," by Ruth Coker-Burks.

"Tell Me I'm Worthless," is a horror novel about how extremists will manipulate traumatised people to get them on side, but its core message feels like, "It's always possible to recover."

"All the Young Men" is Coker-Burks' memoir about nursing and providing community support to people living with - and dying from - AIDS in Hot Springs, Arkansas, all through the height of the crisis. Heartbreaking and heartwarming in equal parts, it reminds us all that, no matter how bleak things are, someone, somewhere, will want to help.

In April 2020, I started writing "Journal of a Pandemic", which has turned out to be a much longer project than I ever anticipated it to be. It's a chronicle of my life in the COVID19 pandemic, observing the changes I'm seeing in the world at large as well as in my own personal life. I wish I hadn't been able to write it this year, or at least that I'd been able to rename it - "Journal of a..." well, just about anything would be better than a pandemic, I think - but it's still happening. COVID19 still hasn't gone away, and I still can't go out in public without a mask on, because I'm high-risk. The bright side of my generally dodgy health is that I've been more careful with myself, and only had coronavirus once, in Summer 2022. I managed to escape it entirely in 2023, and didn't get any colds either. I'm eligible for continued vaccinations, which I've been having as they've become available, and I'm doing OK! One day I hope to put the pandemic journal aside, and keep a copy safe to show future generations, but unfortunately that day hasn't yet come.

Throughout 2023, I was working on various drafts of "Violins and Violets", a historical fiction (and historical romance) novel that I started writing in 2018. I kept on getting stuck within the first three chapters, getting "sidetracked" (or so I thought) by early plot points. My aim in 2023 was to redraft the novel to develop Katharina's character more before the inciting incident (when her father forbids her to compose, and burns all the work she's done so far), but I just couldn't get to that point. Originally, it was the beginning of Chapter One! In the outline I'd revised to make the new draft, it was Chapter Four, and I couldn't get past Chapter Three. There was just so much that I wanted to write about...

...but then I realised one day that I needed to make the events before the burning into a novel of their own, and "Violins and Violets" needed to become a series of three books! That "three book" idea quickly became a "five book" idea, and I started working on the first book that day.

The first draft of the first "Violins and Violets" book, which I started on 31st July, became my project for NaNoWriMo, and I'm pleased to say that I won with it! I then took the first 13 days of December to finish it off, and ended up with a complete draft of about 96,000 words. I started the sequel on 14th December, and got 18,000 words of that book down by midnight on 31st December. It's been a number of years since I've written so much so quickly, and I don't think I finished a single draft of any book in 2022. (Although maybe I finished off the longer version of "Vogeltje" early on? I'm not sure!)

I'm very excited to see what I can write in 2024, but I'm going to keep being kind to myself, and take it easy. No pressure to get anything done... but I'd really like to finish the sequel, and get the next book or two in the series drafted, too. I'd like to read more historical fiction, to develop my understanding of the genre, and if I can read some more histfic focused on music and art in particular, I'll be really pleased.

Month-by-Month Breakdown

November - 50,000+ words (won NaNoWriMo!)

January - 40,850 words

February - 37,150 words

December - 29,500 words

July - 24,125 words

March - 22,000 words

May - 18,000 words

October - 13,750 words

September - 12,750 words

August - 9,000 words

April - 8,750 words

June - 5,875 words

Total - 271,750 words

average 745 per day, 22,645 per month

(Sharp-eyed magpies amongst you may notice that I'm posting this on 17th January 2024, and you're right in thinking that's rather later in the month than I intended. It's for a very good, happy reason, though: I've been working on my sequel to "Ladies Don't Write Music" and so far in January I've added almost 32k to the manuscript, bringing me up to nearly 50k total!)

#writeblr #blog #writer's life #2023 my year in writing #2023 in writing #2023 #2023 round up #2023 wrapped #writeblr wrapped

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aelaer · 4 years ago

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First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view.

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless.

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #mcu fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #gen fic #ask #answered #prompt fill

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