#idk. it’s cyclical or something

[hawnks]

My neighbor makes tamales. She brings over a bunch of them all at once. I’ve never had a tamale before (I know, I know), so I look a up a tutorial video. I imagine Sara in her downstairs apartment, soaking corn husks, kneading dough. I’m not much of a cook myself, I can’t offer her anything in return. It doesn’t matter. Every once in a while she stops by with another big bag of them, tells me about their fillings, the day she’s had, how her mothers doing.

She doesn’t know that some days I forget to buy groceries, or forget to eat altogether. She doesn’t know that food has always been a sacred, scary thing to me, that every time I open up one of those husk wrappers, steaming and full, it saves me a little.

The woman running the soap stand at the farmers market doesn’t have any customers, so I ask her a million questions about her process. She tells me she learned the old fashioned way, from the farmer down the road. No one would ever talk to her because she was so mean, except the soap maker. So the farmer taught her everything she knew, how to patch a roof, how to raise a goat, how to make soap and stew and blankets. She rubs lotion into my hands. It smells like lavender and warm earth. Yesterday my knuckles were so dry, they cracked.

In the downpour, three different cars pull over, ask me if I need a ride. I’m just a block away, I’ll be fine, I assure them. They still linger before driving off.

At the bus stop, I talk to a woman who tells me her woes. She’s smiling, but near tears. I pull out the tiny, rose quartz heart that’s in my pocket. I carry things like that with me, nicknacks, stickers. Trinkets I can hand out like trick-or-treat candies. She asks me, inevitably, like they all do, “Why do you have this.”

Because my neighbor makes tamales — but I can’t say that. “Just in case,” I tell her.

[operator-report]

re lrb: the most important thing about the signalis creepy tv save stations is that ariane can see elster through every single one. that is the red eye and the red eye is ariane! she is watching and remembering elster all while elster descends deeper and deeper into the labyrinth and remembers ariane. come closer, ariane says, in the ending in which elster fails to reach her. i'm waiting.

[deoidesign]

Can you make a tutorial on how you world build and make ocs? I can't seem to make any people in my brain, but then when I try to come up with environments jobs, beliefs and little details to slowly come up with someone, I think: well I don't really know how people have influenced the world- it's a weird loop

To be honest, I don't think I can! Writing is an extremely personal process. The way I write is directly related to how I process things, what I find important in stories, years of my own analysis of my and other's writing, etc... The way you write will be unique to you, as well. But I can explain how I personally think of it.

The short answer:

Write. Write anything and everything, it's a tool to explore your ideas. Analyze your own writing, and write more. Then, as you discover which ideas you want to develop, write more to explore them more. You won't know what you want otherwise!

The long answer:

I think this kind of loop is common. It's easy to feel like everything needs to be done "at once," because our job as writers is to make elements logically fit with each other for our readers. But as you've discovered, developing multiple elements simultaneously isn't really possible, or at least is extremely difficult.

Personally, when I think of writing, I break it into three major elements; characters, world, and plot. As much as possible every scene explores one or more of these, and as much as possible these three things tie back into what I personally consider most important: theme.

Everything I do is in service of the themes I want to present. Without them my events feel aimless. It can take a while to discover them, but they're the core of my work. You will have to discover what you feel is the core of yours. Analyzing other media helps with this too.

Concepts in your brain exist in a state of infinite potential. But when you start writing you have to start making choices, which removes potential as you move forward... But you have to move forward anyways. If there's ideas you want to explore later, you can always explore them later.

What this ends up meaning, to answer your question, is that I don't think of my characters as "people in my brain" or my worlds as something people have influenced... Not at their core, at least. They are tools that I use to represent specific ideas. Obviously they're also my blorbos, but mostly they're serving a specific narrative purpose.

So above all else... Write. Write, and discover what you're writing about, and then start over and write with that in mind. Keep doing this. But you have to write!

[akkivee]

the abject horror on kuukou’s face when he realises this had gone too far and he nearly drove someone to basically killing themselves killed someone is the exact reason he was so adamant about taking the fall for everything in the ren chapter btw

[lilacerull0]

the most touching and the most influential aspect of elena's writing is that she takes these people who exist as representatives of the universe, of something intergal to human nature, their lives not in any way original, their destinies shared with thousands and she makes sure, almost instinctively, that we as readers remember them by their specific names. how many people have taken their own life for the same reasons franco mari did? how many people suffered alfonso's faith in exchange for one second of owning their identities? how many girls didn't get to go to school the way lila did? but that doesn't concern elena, does it... those numbers... she thinks of lila and she sees lila and these people who have done nothing but repeat the past exist in this space, exactly as elena remembers them, exist and belong entirely to themselves... these people are gifted originality and importance simply because this woman remembers them... and that means something!!!!!!!!!!

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Applied for a job and applying to community college. It feels weird. It feels like I'm 18 again, even though I'm turning 23 in less than a week. It feels promising though

[meredoubt]

Being vegetarian doesn't make you healthy. It does not save you from eating so much apple pie you become nauseous. Still that silly animal brain in there telling you to eat too much, i'm afraid!

[bisexualrapline]

i vividly remember the very first celebrity whose passing hit me like a truck. it was cory monteith, i was a teenager, and i was not myself for weeks, probably months. my parents did not understand and kept asking why i was so full of grief for someone i didn’t know. i couldn’t articulate it as a teenager, but i think it was the finality of it. of knowing that i would never get to see him again and that he wouldn’t get to live out the rest of his youth. thinking about cory still brings tears to my eyes today. grief doesn’t ever entirely go away, it doesn’t come conditionally, it doesn’t have rules or reason. don’t ever let anyone tell you that you cannot grieve the loss of someone you didn’t know personally. you have a right to grieve and mourn in any way that most speaks to your heart as long as you’re not harming anyone else in the process.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[pinnithin]

long kind of sad gay poast ahead

saw something about loving the unlovable and it got me thinking about how its a central theme in most of my writing. paired with like, isolation, being separate/other, the doomed concept of human connection, being the only person who can love and understand you the way you need, etc - i watched evangelion way too young if you couldnt guess.

anyway and this is due to the fact that a core part of my identity and personality revolves around the fact that i considered myself unlovable for the majority of my life, first unconsciously through childhood neglect, then by choice as some "you cant fire me i quit" teen angst sort of thing, then by a doomed sense of resignation all through college. its a significant part of how i see myself even now after years of working to unlearn it - ive managed to dial it back to "im difficult to love" which still isnt great but yknow. better than it was

which is why i have attachment issues and preferred one night stands for a long time. my romantic relationships (many of them short lived) have been with well meaning partners who assured me constantly that like, even though youre difficult to love its worth it. and that was all nice and good but it made me feel so fraudulent and disgusted with myself because it put me in the position of thinking either 1) this person doesnt actually know me that well at all or 2) i have somehow tricked this person into thinking under all the baggage theres someone worth loving. which is something i find difficult to reconcile with because the baggage is me too. i cant get rid of it. inevitably those people got wise and it ended up not working out.

by now have all these arguments and strategies geared up to explain to people who make the mistake of caring about me that its really not worth the effort, we're better off as friends or acquaintances, etc. im very transparent about the issues i deal with so its all just laid out there from the beginning and im not like, tricking people into being in a relationship with me or whatever by hiding it. ive talked in circles with exes over and over along the general lines of "im difficult to love" > "no youre not" > "i have xyz wrong with me and i push people away, trust me you dont want to deal with this" > "okay well we can work on that, and youll get better and itll be worth it" > "what if i never get better" > "you will, ill help you" > [me relenting bc im unable to dash their hopes and dreams that even if i Get Better im still Me at the core and the things that make me difficult to love are a permanent part of me]

the relationship im in now doesnt even let me get into that. shan is just like, youre not. youre not difficult to love, youre actually very easy to love and it has always been easy to love you, even before we were dating. and i dont have a comeback for that.

even with my usual strategy of "heres an itemized list of all the reasons dating me is a risk" theyre just like well sure, thats difficult for you to deal with, and im sorry its so hard for you, but that doesnt make you difficult to love. the loving is easy. that part has always been easy.

she doesnt treat me like a problem that needs to be solved she doesnt try to be my savior from myself she doesnt give any indication that shes just waiting it out until i reach a certain threshold of acceptable or unacceptable. she just loves me and trusts me to take care of myself, and it places a lot of personal responsibility on me to be better - not for us but for me, because im the only person who can do that and they know it.

its the healthiest relationship ive ever been in and ive never felt so safe and free to be myself. i dont need to live up to any expectations to eventually make myself lovable. im easy to love. hard thing for me to believe in self practice but going back to the inherent disconnect between all humans, who am i to know or control what they consider easy or difficult? i dont judge her when something she finds difficult is easy for me, so why wouldn't the opposite be true?

[cha1cedony]

I hate feeling like I’ve written something inaccurately, or not AS accurate to the idea in my head, or in a way that doesn’t feel accurate to every single reader (even if it does for me), etc etc. BUT I also can’t go back and edit things bc that’s just the nature of publishing fanfic 😭 The fic is already done and people have already read it. Oh well

[tally-vi]

i was only gonna write in the tags but that turned into a rant so

warning! don’t open the tags unless you want a long unorganized rant!

ABOUT THE ALEX KISTER SITUATION

Just found out about the situation, and this might give me hate, but I think its important to say:

LETS WAIT TO HEAR ALEX KISTER

As disgusting as the allegations are, we shouldnt turn this into another Kwite situation. People are already jumping the gun and claiming that him being a creep is the absolute truth, but we all need to wait.

I hate saying this, but this could be fake. I don't like thinking this but after so many cases of shit like this I can't help but have to doubt and wait.

If the allegations are true than I will post here and apologize for doubting the victims. As someone who suffered with stuff like that before, I hope to God that no one ever goes through something like those people did.

Anyway, I might go to bed now, I hope he responds soon so I can have the full picture

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Scripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Captain Isabel Lovelace (Wolf 359):

Her everything <3 But in all seriousness WHAT is more sexy than a haunted, competent, funny, cursed, vengeful, mourning, badass, doomed woman?

listen to the run and hide speech and tell me that isn't the sexiest thing you've ever heard

Hot space lady who could kill me mmm yes please!

(sort of) twice-undead space captain who wired a bomb to her heart to make sure the crew of her ship didn't kill her before her escape shuttle got working. she's funny she's a genius she knows how to use a gun and she cares very much about her crew (despite the whole bomb thing).

#LOVELACE #idk who she’s up agaunst really tbf #but she cares so SO much #she gets boiled down to ’tough scary lady hot’ a lot (which 100% agree) but #she is heartbroken about her failure to keep her crew safe #and stubbornly wants to make sure none of it is in vain #even if it kills her #HOT. ​even apart from how hot her monologues and threats to hilbert are #also her and eifel laughing and getting along when they first meet her 😭 yall #anyway. lovelace 1000%. the defense rests

Vote Lovelace cuz of the way she says "Hi honey, I'm home" to the bastard who shot her in the head, and then how she proceeds to beat him up <3 Oh. And how she twists his arm and says "good boy". Yeah.

LOVELACE SWEEP LOVELACE SWEEP GO LISTEN TO HER RUN AND HIDE SPEECH AND WEEP THAT GODDARD AERONATICS EVER KILLED HER ENTIRE CREW AND ALSO HER (she recovered) AND MADE HER THEIR ENEMY

#LOVELACE SWEEP. DO NOT FUCKING LET ME DOWN #Lovelace is so much to me #Seen some people in the notes citing the run and hide speech#Which is very good #but my personal favorite Lovelace thing is variations on a theme #The cyclical nature of trauma #The lack of trust #The fear #the sadness #‘You can never go home. You were home. And now you’re back— and you can never go back.’ #Lovelace hearing Hera say something to her and #Thinking ‘what she’s actually saying is that I’m a demon and she would be glad to kill me in a slow and horrifying manner’ #Is so #I don’t agree that Lovelace is doomed either #Like #lovelace did die. But #She got out of that pain and trauma #How do you listen to her say that she is Isabel Lovelace #That she rejects the person that pain made her to be #And say she’s doomed

captain lovelace helped 12yo me realise I like women. She’s so hot. her threatening Hilbert is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. isabel lovelace SWEEP

Mina Murray (Re: Dracula)

As the winner of the Dracula sexyman bracket which ran before brackets were even a huge thing on tumblr and as a podcast character sort of now that re:Dracula is a podcast I think she deserves a place in this bracket

I would kill for Mina I would die for Mina etc

Mina helped everyone kill Dracula with her reports and memorization of the train schedules!

Mina got her mind invaded in order to be used as a puppet, and she took advantage of it by uno reversing the mind link to hunt down and kill her tormentor. Twice a day she gets into a state of being buried alive to achieve it. She dreads vampirism yet she's using her vampirism to her advantage. Her man vowed to become a vampire for her. He hates vampires. Yet he will offer his throat to her only.

Mod Note: This poll is about podcast characters, please only vote and offer propaganda for the Mina Murray in Re: Dracula.

[jackwhiteprophetic]

Idk if I've said this before but Buck's season 4 arc is so fucking interesting and the way they CHOSE to have it essentially "completed" in the finale by Eddie is so intentional and beautiful AAAAAAA

So basically we open with Buck in therapy, this leads to his parents coming and Buck begins and such, where Eddie is consistently there for Buck to go to, and we have the iconic "I know you did", where we as the audience see how much Eddie understands this side of Buck, and how Eddie gives Buck the space to talk and to be angry and process without pushing him to be anything else (which contrasts to Maddie this season, though I love Maddie and I don't think the effects of her childhood on her have been given enough time in the show).

And he doesn't properly finish this self sacrificing thing here, when his mum says "you're doing what you were born to do" this is exemplified, and Buck is affirmed in his purpose being the saviour.

And then we have a kind of cyclical arc with the shooting, where Buck has to confront again how he feels like he's a shitty replacement for something, and that he's reckless and he immediately reverts to his learned perspective of "I shouldn't be here and someone else should and I now I have to make sure that it's only me that gets hurt" that he picked up in his childhood, even when not knowing about Daniel. But this time Eddie stops him, and he tells him that he's not expendable, and that he has a family who need him, and that he has a permanent place in their life.

Which is literally all Buck has ever wanted.

ALSO the conversation with Bobby in 4x14 is so interesting because it feels like there's something missing, when Bobby only reprimands Buck for being reckless and is so nearly at the point, which is that Buck does not value his life and he needs fucking help, but he MISSES it, and the audience sees that, and the scene feels incomplete, and this is simply because they wanted to save that line for Eddie. ANYONE in that episode could have pointed it out, have been given that line, because it was obvious to the audience what Buck was doing. And the writers very deliberately let our frustration at the other characters for missing it build, so that the will conversation was massively highlighted and very narratively satisfying and conclusive.

It has been SO intentional and I am obsessed with it so much

[ay0nha]

are you doing a part ii to your sanji angst on the baratie?

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, angst, longing looks and bitter words, mentions of sleazy pirate, food/food consumption, not proofread, squint, and you'll see fleabag vibes (shout out to that anon), rushed ending, etc.

A/N: ahhhhh, idk how I feel about this, so I’m posting it because I know if I don’t, it’ll sit in the drafts forever. Thank you so much for all the love and support on the part before this. It truly means the world! Enjoy.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED

PART I

The coolness felt sharp on your skin, numbing superficially but struggling to pinpoint the pain. 

It sunk in when the ice melted and bled down your elbow that you were alone, and the ache was still there. 

The devil’s hour was the only time you felt the ship's rhythmic sway. The constantly anxious environment was silent, leaving your shallow breaths to fill the space. There was only so much time before the early risers would begin the prep routine all over again. 

You didn’t fare well with the cyclical nature of it all, but you were skilled in covering the discomfort. It was a game you were good at; the facade behind the swipe of deep lipstick and the soft fabric of your dresses hid you well. Yet, the pressure became unbearable on nights like these. It made you feel stuck, with nowhere to go, as the open ocean surrounded you.

The constant adrenaline at all hours was taunting you. It kept some focused and motivated their drive, but you struggled to stay afloat. Instead, you toyed with the thought of letting the tendrils pull you down into the sinking pool of burdens you ran from. 

“You hear me?” Sanji’s voice pulled you to the surface for a shock of air. You failed to notice he even entered the room. “Where’d you go?” 

Sanji broke your thousand-yard stare, just shy of waving a hand before you. You wanted to scold him for accurately reading you. Instead, your heart pinned to your throat at his overt observation.

“Hmm?” He prompted again, moving deeper into the space. Worry began to etch his tired features; you failed to hide. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m—” Your response was lost in its formation. Emotion pricked at your nose, but you refused to spill any tears. You were drained, and it all started to feel claustrophobic. “—tired.”

 The practiced lie felt smooth and believable enough to be a sufficient excuse. And, yet, Sanji matched the defiance. “I’ve known you a long, long time…I know your tells, sweetheart—

“Come off it.” You discouraged the name, but it fulfilled Sanji’s purpose. You always stumbled, and your frown conveyed your disdain. “It’s been a…” Day. You stopped to begin again, frazzled, “I-I…I just, I’m just…hungry, Sanji.”

His name rang in his ears like a confession. He waited for you to correct yourself, scold him for prying as you always had. The air shifted to something unexplored, vulnerable. Despite the years of working together, moments like these were rare. Sanji used the pause to take you in, searching for any deception. But you laid bare, asking for comfort and company. 

“Alright...” Sanji’s voice was soft so as not to spook you. He nodded, more confident in his promise. “I can help with that.” 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, a rush of relief flowing through your body. Sanji’s flirtations were easy to ignore. His sarcasm, you returned. The attitude you dished, he accepted with his own. It was how you worked; it kept things fluid. The push and pull kept you going. 

However, the static of your hesitancy tugged at something foreign. It kept you quiet and made you thoughtful. Sanji moved like he always had, calculated and knowledgable of the dish and whose palette he would earn the respect of. Everything he touched turned into a creation. He didn’t do it to prove a point or for a broader ‘them.’ Tonight, he created for you.  

There was assurance in Sanji’s demeanor. He rolled his sleeve to his elbows and tugged at an already loosened tie; he became just as exposed as you were under your watchful eye. You itched for something familiar. The smile you fought proved Sanji read your mind, choosing correctly—a grilled cheese. 

The tomato was missing, and so was the dill.  Yet, there was a thick slather of freshly made mayo on each slice of homemade bread. The smell wafted, reminding you how the day's stress surpassed your hunger. 

“Something to drink?” Sanji’s low rumble broke the silence, checking on you indirectly. 

Sanji spoke through food and understood another through choices and habits. You were picky. You had staples that he perfected the recipe for, this one of them. He knew to be gentle and use his fingertips to smooth the toasted edges of the bread against the browning butter lining the pan. 

“I’m trying to keep the wallowing to a minimum.” You shook your head. You tried to laugh through the feeling, but the joke felt ill-timed and ill-received. “Don’t hurt yourself too much  trying to play nice.”

The air felt still, like the moments of a taut breath. There was no longer an eye on the throne of fabricated competition the Baratie created rather, you looked at each other as if it were the first time, both newly transparent.

“Oh, no—” He tutted, smirk settling naturally. “—that’s not the painful part, love.”

The kitchen was always warm—burners running, heat lamps, bubbling stovetops, and incidental fires. That very temperature caused certain anger to tip over and still provided fluidity in the brigade. However, even when you found yourself in the back, you brought a chill to the air. It rivaled the walk-in and existed as your only trait in the eyes of those found under your glare.

Yet, the warmth Sanji transferred to you was different. It didn’t come from the kitchen or from anger. It was just him, and his words carried him over. His smirk was more of a smile, hesitant to become a smile as he presented his tenderness on a plate for you to devour. 

“Bon appétit, madam.”

You pulled at the edges of the grilled cheese, the inner parts reflecting fondue. The jagged edges defined the unorthodox moment. There was something so perfect in the imperfection of comfort it provided. 

“C’mon…” You cleared the lump forming in your throat. Blindly, you push a hand forward to offer Sanji a half. He half-expected it to be a ploy, for you to snatch it back just as he would go to reach it. Instead, you gestured again, “Go on, take my olive branch so I don’t look like a total dick.”

“Gladly.’

This was what you needed. This was a warm hug at the end of the day. This was a blanket wrapped tightly around you, protecting you from the mess of it all. The simplicity of the company broke you. 

You cleared your throat, wanting to be heard. “You know earlier…”

Sanji hummed encouragingly. He would never pry, afraid of your retaliation, but he knew that the slimy pirate clung to you. While he cooked, Sanji noticed the deep hues on your wrist and how you nurtured them with patience.  

“He scared me.” You scoffed at your own admission, belittling your feelings already. It felt ridiculous in hindsight, allowing someone to crawl so deeply under your skin. “I just didn’t see it coming…and wasn’t sure where it was going.”

You played with a few crumbs on your fingertips, allowing a thoughtful pause that you refused to fill. Sanji knew you’d eat the crust first, saving the gooey inside for when you ripped off the bandaid. 

“I could have—” He started, unwilling to miss the opportunity you gave him. “I’ll talk to Zeff. We’ll handle this. You’ll never—That’ll never happen again.”

Sanji’s sandwich half was forgotten, his hunger only satiable by your security.  You almost fed into it, tripping into the depths of his gaze’s concern. But you’d been tricked before and you’d be damned to fall for it all over again. 

“No—” You were blunt, words pointed. “Sanji…” It didn’t matter what promise he could give; it had no power against the past. “This world doesn’t look out for people like me but carves spaces for you. For him.”

Everything became unappetizing, as if you’d come back to yourself. Any defenses dropped were regained with dual force. You’d scold yourself later for accepting the shared meal as if that were the obvious solution to it all. 

“And what does he get, hmm?” You hummed with disgust. “A slap on the wrist?  Meal on the house?” You barked with hate. “And me? My professionalism gets questioned. I’m told to cheer up and move on—and yet, you all are blind! The real problem has nothing to do with that fucking pirate.” 

Zeff was your advocate. He only tolerated so much, and anything that interrupted or dragged you in unwillingly was dealt with. You heard how those around you reacted. They cheered and glorified Sanji’s heroic acts but didn’t waste a breath to see if you were still intact.  

Sanji had, in his own way. You knew that and detested how it made you crumble to the pieces you always had to pick up. Drawing a sharp but much-needed breath, you promised never to allow it again. 

Sanji read your expressiveness; understanding the sentiment was a deep-running thread. He knew it wasn’t his place to advise, tempt, and, worst of all, ignore you. 

Despite being at loss for words his effort was persistent.“Love—”

You wanted him to curse you or mock you or do something that would qualify the anger that made you tremble. You couldn’t stand how readily he took everything you gave him with such gentleness. 

“Sanji—” There was a coldness you attached to his name, but a warning nonetheless. You detested how, even now, he still remained.  “I never wanted this…Here I shift–I change, I mold into this…hybrid of a being just to fulfill what you think you want me to be—And still, I find myself disappointed in that fact that I think that’ll change—shame on me.”

The scraps of the sandwich had grown cold, its newly rigid, solid form symbolic of how things were supposed to be. You left Sanji with the weight of your words, a clear reminder that he was no more than a cog in the grand scheme of things---an insignificant part of your greater plan to be heard.

[hoodreader]

astrology infodump

just thoughts & findings that stuck with me, compiled into a list.

i. reading the houses backwards.

idk if i make sense… but… the first house is the house associated w sunrise. the seventh house is the house associated w sunset. the lines drawing the first house to the seventh house is the horizon. diurnal is above the horizon, nocturnal is below. which means that the tenth house would be the house associated w midday (highest sun visibility = highest point in the chart). & the fourth house would be midnight (lowest sun visibility = lowest point in the chart).

so if we are going w accordance of that… the sun travels from the first to the twelfth to the eleventh to the tenth and so on throughout any given day. i wonder if there is a story of the houses that works clockwise as opposed to counter clockwise, which is how we read it.

ii. i associate the seventh house with death.

as i see it… the first house being the house where we read for our birth would imo then mean the seventh house has a part in our death. if the beginning is the first house, i think the house furthest from the first would represent the end. & this also imo shows the way oppositions work in astrology. sunrises & sunsets both are beautiful mirages but they have different meanings in how sunrises represent the initiations & sunsets are closure. both are liminal moments.

it reminds me of that quote from lion king: “one day, simba, the sun will set on my time here. and will rise with you as the new king.”

i don’t think the expression about ‘crossing the rainbow bridge’ is about a rainbow, but instead, is about the colorful sky we get when the sun is setting past the horizon.

there are other houses that could be read for death ofc. but i find death more cyclical imo? like… yes the twelfth represents the ‘end.’ but i don’t think there’s immediately a jump into something new after the end. i think there’s a stage of dormancy & rest that follow death. there’s a stage of non existence.

when we are born (1h), we rise (10h), then we descend into death (7h), where we rest in the grave (4h). am i making sense (lol)! this is why the fourth was actually read for the earth element instead of water, it’s the lowest so this is where we all end up after death. until we come back (1h).

iii. life begins at breath, not conception.

i believe it’s said in the bible, after adam & eve were created from the earth (4th house) and then god gave them breath (1th house) & gave them personhood. and i myself am not christian. but i doubt christianity is the first religion to believe this.

the first house representing birth and mercury (the planet of breath & lungs) rejoicing here is what i derived this theory from.

iv. the fourth house is u at conception.

the fourth house - being that it is nonexistence in how i read it - shows the most hidden part of u. what’s more hidden than ur entire existence being a mystery? this is u after u died & before u are born. so this is u in the womb. knowing nothing, being nothing, surrounded by nothingness, etc.

u have no identity at this point because ur still a part of ur mother. thru the umbilical chord, u lack ur own body.

it’s the deepest part of u also in the sense that it’s the ancestry that compiled to make u.