#something something you don't have to walk for a hundred miles in the desert repenting

[v-arbellanaris]

do you have any nice headcanons to share? feeling under the weather and I really enjoy your posts. :) (you don't have to share if you don't want to, of course.)

i'm so sorry to hear you're not doing great :( i hope you feel better soon. and ty for asking - im really flattered that my posts are so enjoyable for you!!! idk if you wanted something specific, so feel free to let me know if you wanted something different!

but one nice (like opposite of sad as opposed to complimenting myself eogkgjdfkgj) headcanon i have is that all senior enchanters have a repertoire of entirely useless spells. things like, for example, the ability to create entirely harmless little creatures made of light, that glitter and sparkle -- butterflies and puppies and dragons and birds and kittens. it's useful, they argue, because it helps calm down the younger apprentices and entertain them. it's not, though, because there's other ways to do that, which means this magic has no use.

and we never really see magic that isn't for use. and i assume this is partly because of things like the in-game mechanisms (and ive been feeling out a whole host of ideas to make thedas feel more... magicky) but i also think it's a product of magic primarily being used for war and battle. (magic, after all, exists to serve man - a universal truth in thedas that seems to persist across cultures and races.) i think a lot of things that aren't useful have been carved out of regular magic practice because the idea of magic existing - without purpose, without use, but just existing, as natural as air and water - makes people extremely uncomfortable (i haven't quite decided if this is applicable to all cultures but i do think it's something to think about because i HAVEN'T seen the kind of casual magic use i'm imagining).

and so it brings me fierce joy to think about useless magic. not just in apostates who have never had to be in the circle but specifically for circle mages, who are incarcerated and told daily that the only good thing about their magic is that it's useful. and they know all these useless bits of magic - magic that doesn't cause harm or hurt, magic that isn't for healing or making someone stronger, magic that has no use for battle or war.

it's just... magic. magic cast for the sake of magic.

[ilovedthestars]

joy is good actually! hope is good actually! even when (ESPECIALLY when) horrible things are happening in the world! because we need hope and joy to give us energy to keep going, and keep working towards a better world!

please try with me to be joyful and hopeful. i know it's hard right now, but it is worth the effort. you taking on the guilt of all the world's ills does absolutely nothing to make them go away. and even if you can't do anything to tangibly improve anyone else's life right now, if you don't have the means or the power or the spoons, the world will be better if you are happy than if you are miserable.

in the words of Ursula Vernon, your misery does not improve the world a single iota. in the words of Mary Oliver, you do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. in the words of Wislawa Szymborska, forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.

so please, bring flowers home. please, let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. please, stop doomscrolling because anxiety is not activism and if you don't have the spoons for activism right now then you might as well do something that doesn't make you miserable. find something joyful and try to share it with the people around you. hold on to hope. repeat after me: we're gonna get through this.

[cowgurrrl]

i love oftm fam so much 🥹 i would love literally any updates on them :)

OFTM GANG RISE UP 🗣️🗣️🗣️

How Could I Not Love You?

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: this isn’t my favorite but I miss them desperately

Summary: “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” [2.5k]

Warnings: newborn stuff, angst, the Garcia-Long family coming in clutch, god they are so in love it hurts, smutty dialogue toward the end but no smut because I chickened out

You don't know that you've ever been this tired. The girls have been in the world for a whopping two and a half months, and you feel like you've been awake for the entirety of those two months. None of the Miller kids are particularly good sleepers— even Sarah didn't sleep through the night until she was two and a half, which Joel conveniently forgot to tell you when you talked about having kids— but with the addition of the girls, it feels much harder. They wake up at different times throughout the night to feed, get changed, or be held, which complicates the rotation. Also, Sam's sleep schedule has regressed, and he's up at random times. Having three under five is not all it's cracked up to be.

You love Joel, and you love watching him be a dad, but your relationship has suffered through the just-barely-surviving stage of having newborns. You try to make time to watch a movie or just talk, but whenever you do, someone starts crying. Even if you're able to sit down for more than five minutes without a kid needing something, you're half-asleep and in no shape for a conversation. 

It didn't hit you how much of a toll it's taken on you until you were up for one of the late-night feeds with Violet, and he lay there, watching you through the darkness. You turned to look at him and reached out with your free hand to smooth down some stray hair. He smiled sleepily and turned to kiss your wrist before whispering, "I miss you." You wanted to say that he doesn't need to miss you, and you're right there, but you weren't. Not really.

"I miss you, too," you whispered back, feeling the sting of the truth on the back of your tongue. You wanted to say more—to remind him how much you love him and tell him how you couldn't do this without him—but Sophia's tinny cry closed the window of opportunity before it could fully open. 

You love your kids. You couldn't imagine anything better than watching them grow and interact with each other. They are so wanted and loved, but it still feels really fucking hard. You're sitting on the couch, feeding a baby while Joel bounces another and plays Army men with Sam, feeling like a horrible wife and mother, when the lock turns on your front door and your second family enters.

Carolina, Ryan, Elizabeth, Victoria, and Penelope descend upon your living room like well-meaning vultures, and you give them a confused look. Penelope immediately runs to Sam, and they embrace in their awkward toddler way before they scurry off to his room to play. Victoria, now nine and looking more like Carolina every day, gushes over Daisy. Elizabeth, in her teenage grace, plops down next to you on the couch and squeezes you, trying not to disturb Sophia too much.

"What are you doing here?" You ask Carolina, looking at her like she's a saint, and she smiles. 

"I heard you could use a break," she says. You're about to argue with her and insist that you've got everything under control, but she stops you. "We have two and a half adults, play buddies for Sam and Daisy, and nothing to do for the rest of the day. Plus, I've been itching to hold a baby." She explains. You turn to look back at Joel, who is now babyless and standing next to a baby-equipped Ryan, and give him a look.

"Did you do this?" You ask.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world if we went to dinner alone?" Just the idea of an actual dinner is enough to make you waver. You've both been living off of takeout and Sam's leftovers since the girls were born, and you're dying for a change of scenery. There's more than enough frozen breastmilk in the fridge for the girls, and they're at ease with their aunt and uncle. Sam is ecstatic to have someone to play with, and Daisy looks excited to get some attention. Surely, a few hours couldn't hurt. 

"Fine, but you can't make me wear pants." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joel says. Once Sophia is done feeding, you hand her off to Carolina and show Elizabeth where everything is. They don't need a rundown of everything a newborn needs, but it makes you feel better to ramble about their routine to make sure it all gets done. 

With all the kids placated, you and Joel sneak off to your room to change out of the clothes you've been wearing for God knows how long. You put on a maxi dress and spray dry shampoo in your hair while Joel buttons up a nice shirt. 

"Thank you," you say as you put on earrings, glancing at him in the mirror. “You didn't have to do this." He gives you a confused look but shakes it off with a quick kiss to your cheek.

"I wanted to. You deserve a break."

"We deserve a break," you correct, and he hums as he wraps an arm around your waist. Even though he hasn't been dealing with postpartum and breastfeeding problems, he's still been in the trenches with you. For a quiet minute, you stand together and take a breath for the first time in months. Yeah, you desperately needed this. 

You quickly finish getting ready before your plans can get thwarted and are shooed out of the house by Carolina and Ryan. They promise to text you updates and have everyone in bed on time, but don't pressure you to come home early. "We've got this," Carolina says with enough conviction that you can believe her. Still, your anxiety spikes once you're down the driveway, and you have to convince yourself that everything is okay. Joel grabbing your hand and asking you a question pleasantly distracts you. 

The autumn sun slowly sets over the California hills and casts a golden glow over Joel's face, catching the grays in his hair and beard beautifully. He's fifty now and older than he ever thought he'd be. He told you as much on the night of his birthday, along with his fears of being an older dad and husband. "I just don't wanna miss anythin'," he said. You reminded him that he was only fifty and he's in exceptional health for someone who spent most of his thirties and forties making music and bouncing around the world on tours. Plus, aging looks good on him. 

You talk about little things like how he's scribbled lyrics onto a notepad he keeps beside the bed or how Daisy has adjusted to having three little kids around instead of one. You're in the middle of saying something when he makes a familiar turn, and you can't stop the laugh from leaving you as the restaurant comes into view. 

"Are you serious?" You ask, looking at him with a big smile, and he shrugs.

"What?" He asks, as if he's not stopping in front of the restaurant where you had your first (contractually obligated) date. 

"Joel, we haven't been here in…" you trail off as you do the mental math before gasping. It's ten years to the day of your first date. Guilt immediately pools at the base of your spine, but Joel just sits there with a smirk on his face. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize. I've been so caught up with Sammy and the girls and-" he leans over the center console and kisses you before you can continue rambling. 

Normally, you make it a point to remember days like this. Your first date, breaking up, getting back together, getting engaged, getting married, all of it. That's why it's so shocking that you forgot about it, and on a milestone year, no less. 

"I'm so sorry." You say, and he shakes his head. 

"I didn't say anything, so it could be a surprise," he says. "I called Caro and Ryan about a month ago to set this up, and I rented out the whole restaurant, so it's just us. We don't have to worry about cameras or fans or anythin'." 

Of fucking course, he would do something like this. You sigh and drop your head to his shoulder. 

"I didn't even get you anything." You mumble guiltily. He chuckles and kisses your temple.

"You just had two of my kids. I think that's more than enough." He says. You could spiral about feeling like a bad partner (how could you forget when your life together started?), but you have plenty of time for that. For dinner, however, you're on the clock. So, you push the thoughts away for now and stare at your husband fondly.

"I love you so much it's stupid," you say, and he smiles.

"Right back atcha, baby." He says. Much like he did on your first date, he gets out first and gives the car keys to the valet before opening your door for you. You take his arm and walk into the restaurant with him. There's no need for a hostess since there's only one table set up in the space, and it's impossible to miss it. Beautiful flowers surround the table, already set with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red roses like the ones he turned up at your door with. He pulls your chair out for you and steals a kiss before moving to the other side of the table. Light, romantic music plays over the speakers, and the candle flickers in the middle of the table. It's perfect. 

The bottle of wine is from the year you were married, and it has a special label bearing both your names. You haven't had any wine for almost a year, and Joel, knowing this, evidently pulled out all the stops. He pours each of you a glass and raises it in a toast. "Thanks for going on a second date with me," he says, and you laugh. 

"Thanks for giving me a reason to." You say and clink your glass against his. The wine is amazing, and it's not just because you haven't had any in so long. You spend some time catching up with each other and talking about nothing important until a very nice waiter comes by to take your orders. Besides the waiter coming and going, you're left alone with Joel, with nobody crying or asking you for anything. It's nice, if not a little strange. 

You take your time eating and drinking and giving Joel your full attention. You laugh together and get butterflies when he kisses your hand or brushes his knee against yours. It's a little silly to get so worked up over such small gestures, but it's been a hot second since you've had adult time, so you figure it's fair. God forbid you still find your husband attractive. 

In the middle of dessert, a special request of Texas Trash Pie— which doesn't come close to his mother's but is still delicious— you look up from the dish and find whipped cream in his beard. You snort a laugh at the sight, and Joel furrows his brows.

"What?" He chuckles. You gather your napkin in your hands and reach out to wipe his face, not unlike you do with your son, and he blushes a little when he realizes what was making you laugh. "Can't believe you still like a mess like me." He says before taking another bite and somehow getting more on his face. Once you're full and pleasantly tipsy from the wine, you scoot your chair closer to Joel, and his hand finds a home on your thigh. 

You can't stop staring at him. You track the changes you've watched unfold over the past decade: a little more grey on his temples, the creases next to his eyes a little more prominent, and his hair a little longer. He still has that indescribable sparkle in his eye that you think can only be a product of his joy. Your heart squeezes when it only intensifies as he looks at you. 

"We've been together a long time," you say, and he hums. "Ten years, five kids, one dog, three finished albums, and one in the works."

"And four movies, an Academy Award, and how many others?" Joel chimes in, never the one to just accept praise, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," you say, making him smile. You grab his left hand and trace his gold wedding band back and forth and back and forth a few times before you look at him again. "I mean, considering everything, we've done pretty well for ourselves. Can you handle ten more years with me?"

"I'd take a hundred more years with you." He says so quickly it takes your breath away. "I'd do it all over again if it meant this would be our life." 

"Even though we have to change shitty diapers and get no sleep?" You ask, the question betraying the sudden tears, and he laughs.

"There are worse things." Like thinking you'll never see each other again. Like running out of time. Like never seeing him in our children's faces. Yeah, there are much worse things. You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand. 

"I love you." You whisper like you told him you missed him not even a week ago. 

"I love you, too." He whispers back as he kisses you sweetly. The waiter lets you linger for another half an hour before dropping the check and very politely tells you they'll be closing soon. Joel leaves a big tip as an apology for staying so late and personally thanks all the staff who worked to make this possible. He's all Southern charm and manners, even as you leave the restaurant and wait for the car. 

"Thank you for tonight." You say, and Joel gives you a look. 

"Y'know, we don't have to go back just yet. The kids are all in bed. Carolina and Ryan said to enjoy each other." He says, and you squint at him, a smirk pulling on your lips.

"And what would we do with all that extra time?" 

"I might've reserved a room in a hotel nearby, just in case. We can order breakfast to the room early and be home before the kids wake up." 

"Do Caro and Ryan know about this?" You ask, but you already know the answer. You scoff a little and shake your head before stepping close to him. "You must've been really desperate to fuck your wife to plan all this, huh?" Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, and you swear, you feel him shudder. 

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna take such good care of you."  

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethksplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

[spoondrifts]

not to be jewish on main but patton + teshuvah can be something so personal. the idea that you don't have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting—the idea that repairing broken things is a process of return, not hand-of-god absolution. you can make mistakes, turn away from them, and promise to do better. you aren't tainted forever by wrongdoing and wrongdoing doesn't make you a bad person, only a flawed one who is no less worthy of love. patton's arc in svs redux excellently reflects jewish concepts of tikkun (repair) and chet (missing the mark). patton misses the mark very badly throughout the wedding plot, but it doesn't make him a bad person; just someone with good intentions who made a mistake, and janus introduces the idea that this is okay, so long as you acknowledge that you've made a mistake and vow to turn away from it. patton & janus' whole dynamic feels to me like a recovering catholic meeting a jew with a healthy relationship to religion being like "damn girl you live like this?"

[childoftheyellowsun]

“Things!

Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire !

More room in your heart for love,

For the trees! For the birds who own nothing-

The reason they can fly.”

Mary Oliver, from Storage

“and have you ever felt for anything such wild love-

Do you think there is anywhere, in any language,

a word billowing enough

for the pleasure

that fills you,

as the sun

reaches out,

as it warms your

as you stand there,

empty-handed-”

Mary Oliver, from The Sun

“The dream of my life

Is to lie down by a slow river

And stare at the light in the trees

To learn something by being nothing

A little while..”

Mary Oliver, from Entering The Kingdom

“But also I say this: that light is an invitation to happiness, and that happiness, when it’s done right, is a kind of holiness, palpable and redemptive.”

Mary Oliver, from Blue Iris

“You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun. And anyway it’s the same old story- a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive. Mostly I want to be kind”

Mary Oliver, from Dogfish

“There are moments that cry out be fulfilled. Like, telling someone you love them. Or giving your money away. All of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own.”

Mary Oliver, from Moments

“Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of god that is inside each of us.”

Mary Oliver, from Franz Marc’s Blue Horses

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Mary Oliver, from Don't Hesitate

“There isn’t anything in this world but mad love. Not in this world. No tame love, calm love, mild love, no so-so love. And, of course, no reasonable love. Also there are a hundred paths through the world that are easier than loving. But, who wants easier? We dream of love, we moon about, thinking of Romeo and Juliet, or Tristan, or the lost queen rushing away over the Irish sea, all doom and splendor. Today on the beach, an old man was sitting in the sun. I called out to him, and he turned. His face was like an empty pot. I remember his tall, pale wife; she died long ago. I remember his daughter-in-law. When she died, hard, and too young, he wept in the streets. He picked up pieces of wood, and stones, and anything else that was there, and threw them at the sea. Oh, how he loved his wife. Oh, how he loved young Barbara. I stood in front of him, not expecting any answer yet not wanting to pass without some greeting. But his face had gone back to whatever he was dreaming. Something touched me, lightly, like a knife-blade. I felt I was bleeding, though just a little, a hint. Inside I flared hot, then cold. I thought of you. Whom I love, madly.”

Mary Oliver, March

“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

[pearwaldorf]

I really need to stop listening to Malevolent in the mornings because it is Too Much to have such intense feelings about sad detective and eldritch hitchhiker before work!! But can I wait until after work? Also no.

This episode had the range, damn. Arthur completely off his rocker consumed with thoughts of revenge, John pleading with him to see reason, remember his humanity. Such a good role reversal.

One of the things I love about this podcast is how good the audio production is. In addition to Arthur's blindness being a clever conceit as a vehicle for (literal) description, And the music is part of this. There's not a lot of variation in what's used: Faroe's song, "You Call It Madness", maybe something else. And when you hear something else, that's like a big screeching siren that you need to pay attention. I don't even know what that discordant sound that plays when Arthur and John are having their argument about whether Arthur's intended actions are justified. Maybe something scraping over piano strings?

The pacing is also impeccable--just enough time for the building dread and concern for this character (who we've spent so much time with and rooted for) to coalesce before it all goes to shit. Arthur dropping the knife. Stabbing the empty bed. And then, a literal repeat of what Arthur and Yellow did to get into Uncle's room. The music box was a nice touch, in a real fucked-up way. I respect that.

I'm also so fucking mad the way "bedrock" is used in this episode. At first I thought it was John not getting the idiom quite correct. But the way it comes up again with Peter, it's also a base. Something with stability that you can use to build on, climb up from. I don't think we've ever gotten any information canonically about what Arthur and Peter's relationship was like until now. And he's absolutely cast in the same position as John: the constant, the one good thing. I have no way of knowing if Arthur included Parker in "Because I can't lose another person!" but I'd like to think so. (And oh, to be so intimate with the being who took somebody that dear and important away from you. There's a story there that I wish somebody would tell.)

(Also, there is something to be said about how all the important people in Arthur's life are ghosts by the time we get to know them.)

The thing about fictional characters(') suffering is that it is, ultimately, selfish. They're not real, so it doesn't matter if they hurt. Which is not to say that it can't be done poorly or gratuitously, but it is for us, the creators and the consumers of said work to tell us things we need to hear. You do not need to walk a hundred miles in the desert on your knees, repenting. A terrible mistake does not mean you are unforgivable. The discovery of your humanity can help you transcend the wrongs you did for eons. You are not a monster. And even if you are, it doesn't matter. Somebody will love you anyways.

The last part of the episode is satisfying on a level that some people might call fan service. But that particular term, I think, implies an unearned indulgence. Nothing about what happens is unearned. John pulling Arthur back from the brink with his steadying belief in Arthur's conviction, reflecting that humanity Arthur taught him. John reciting Robert Frost to Arthur!! I was ugly crying on my rowing machine! I have never had any emotional attachment to "Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening" or "Invictus" but I sure as heck do now!

And the apple! The beautiful crisp sound of it! (Somebody in the tag said it had to be an apple because it's the only fruit that makes a pleasing sound, which is also true. But apples are also the only fruit that could really survive through winter before the advent of modern transportation, and there's some symbolism in that.) wildehack made a comment on my fic about how Arthur is so spare in all the time we've known him: not just thin, but starved, and John fits himself into those spaces. And to see Arthur feel pleasure, enjoyment, expansive with hope? It was earned, and good.

ALSO HE PROMISED DATE NIGHT!

[edit:] I forgot about Faroe's music box! I thought Arthur would take it, but he doesn't need it anymore. And that's not a loss, that's closure, and I am so glad for him.

[ladylike-foxes]

Quotes and Excerpts that Haunt Me On A Daily Basis

(even though no one asked)

If you want to enjoy the rewards of being loved, you also have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

—Tim Kreider, I Wrote This Book Because I Love You: Essays

To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked. In the grip of it pleasure or pain doesn’t matter. You think what will they do what new power will they acquire if they see me naked like this. If they see you feeling. You have no idea what. It’s not about them. To be seen is the penalty.

— Anne Carson, Red Doc>

I don't want to be a person.

I want to be unbearable.

— Anne Carson

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

— Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? 

And I said, Where can I put it down?

— Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God 

I wanted to turn to wax and melt away. I wanted to erase every wrong cell of my body. It felt so bad to be alive in that moment [...] 

~

Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. [...] So I stand on the edge of things, crossing my fingers, praying nobody will try to look me in the eye.

~

Watching people is a good hobby, but you have to be careful about it. You can’t let people catch you staring at them. If people catch you, they treat you like a first-class criminal. And maybe they’re right to do that. Maybe it should be a crime to try to see things about people they don’t want you to see.

— Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I'm Home

No one is watching. 

Why does it have to be beautiful? 

You, in pain, are no closer to god than

You, in the drive thru or

You, checking your email or

You, holding your own hand. 

— Elle Emerson, Regarding the Röttgen Pietà

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

I don't think I {NEED} anything like that, but I'm going to try stacking pillows on my left side while leaning to the right to see how that works.

O.K. but the much more intersting question is

Do you WANT something like that?

I will never forget tthe joy of thsi women who bought a shower stoolfor herself

Not becasue she NEEDED it

But her mother needed one and she had stayed with her for a few days, and had used the stool, sinc eit was already in teh shower anyway

And she had noticed that she liked showering beter with it

she took more showers

Not just wenn absolutely necessary

It was no longer a chore

It was something fun to do

Something to look forward to

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

It's starting to annoy me how I'll be sitting up in the bed, propped up by pillows, and wind up slanting to the left so much I'll wind up with the left side of my head resting on the pillow next to me. I don't mean to slide down until my torso is lying down, it just happens.

[warandpussy]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 🤍✨

Omg 🥺 thank you friend... this is so hard (difficult) because I never read anything back!! But here is my list:

Multiphonics, AKA orchestra au, AKA the tortoise of slorchestra The Untamed 63k This is my longest fic ever and the first time I ever finished anything truly novel-length. It's sooooo personal and it's about music and duets and falling in love and writing it was very cathartic. It's also fundamentally very silly. I really loved writing it and the comments I've got on it have been so nice and heartwarming (almost wrote heartworming there). It's really my magnum opus I think.

All Alone (More or Less), AKA red dwarf au, AKA missy fic Doctor Who 39k My second longest fic ever and I wrote it like 3 months after the last one (remember when I could write... lol...) It's MY version of a Missy redemption arc and I guess sort of musing on what that would mean for her, because soooo many redemption arcs just leave me cold. You do not have to walk a hundred miles on your knees through the desert repenting et cetera. I just wanted to approach it from a perspective that wasn't so catholic and awful, so it's about change and what that means for her, and what her future would look like after that change. Missy is so mean and broken in the head!! Also there's a lot of Gender in there. I think it's probably my most complete character arc. It was a lot of fun to write this one too.

Buried in Hallowed Ground, AKA doncaster fic Doctor Who 13k The experience of writing this one was very strange - I started it in March 2020 ish and then had a hellish few months and picked it up again in September and finished the whole thing. Which is not something I'm usually able to do - once I lose interest I lose interest! But this was about my hometown which I love and missed so much, for obvious reasons. Like, Doncaster is a shithole... but it's MY shithole, you know? And writing this was almost like getting to go back again.

Spare Hearts, AKA the twissydole, AKA the inception of spare head nardole Doctor Who 11k I don't really have any excuses for this one. It's sort of also inspired by red dwarf in that there's an episode where the robot butler in that show takes of his head and replaces it with a spare head, and he keeps all his heads in a cupboard. And I did the same thing with Nardole and then made the Doctor practice kissing with one of the spare heads. And now I have a whole universe of headcanons where Nardole has spare heads and sometimes I forget that's not actually in the show.

Reach for the Stars, AKA liverpool fic, AKA climbing fic The Untamed 3.5k I just like this one because I think it's funny!! I wrote it in a 2 or 3 hour session from start to finish and then edited and posted it the next day. I haven't read it back, so it might not be the most technically proficient (I bet there's spelling errors in there) but I really made myself laugh and that's what matters to me the most I think. I'm in a fallow period at the moment (I've been saying that for like 5 months now) where writing is just so fucking difficult and every time I sit down I get in my own head about it and I can't get any words out. Contrasting where I am now with where I was when I wrote this, it's night and day. I'd like to get this energy back honestly!!!!

There we go that's my list :) I'm mostly thinking about the experience of writing things here, rather than saying I think these are the best things I've written; I honestly don't really think that's for me to judge! But as the writer I think the experience of creation is the most important part for me, and the part that sticks with me.

Looking back it's pretty obvious to me that the ones that made it on here are almost all comedies, or at least have an element of farce to them. Maybe red dwarf au is the most serious out of all of them - but it's based on a sitcom and I do think it has comedic notes to it, though it gets darker than most of my other stuff. I think for me the way that I like to explore themes is through comedy / jokes! And that makes the process of writing it more fun, and then I want to write it, and when I want to write something I think I have a better time doing so and make a better end result. And then the fics where I was just trying to write Serious Writing and Take Myself Seriously are the ones that end up being a slog and I don't like the way they turn out. I'm not trying to say I'm mega funny... I mostly write to make myself laugh more than anything.

Anyway, yes! There you go 😘

[transseven]

rules: tag people you want to get to know better!!!

tagged by: @selkiefem

your name and what you would’ve named yourself: um am going by seven as of now and i named myself that

astrological sign (sun/moon/rising if you know them): aries sun sagittarius moon libra rising

when did you join tumblr and why: 2013 or 2014 to blog about once upon a time/swanqueen

top 5 fandoms: star trek, star wars, the witcher, doom patrol and idk i dont rlly interact anymore but caos

top 5 favorite films: the tale, holy camp!, carol, unicorn store, maybe novitiate..

go to song when you want to feel something: ... 745 sticky (black dresses remix) - 100 gecs

what’s your religion or faith if you have one: uh i have my own spiritual views i kind of settled on on my own. i used to feel more strongly about them tho :/

a song that makes me feel seen: class of 2013 - mitski, but also a Lot of mitski songs. she is one of the only musicians who i really identify with the music of.

if i could have any career: something where i work in education / outdoors. i wish i could be a camp counselor year round. or maybe just working for an organization similar to my summer camp, which is for youth from lgbt families, communities, and identities.

do you have a type?: uhm. older women. tenderqueers with mullets. milfs. ppl who are unattainable. someones mom.

what does my heart/soul yearn for: someone really truly caring about me

if you had to describe yourself in 5 words to someone: passionate, energetic, anxious, funny, scatterbrained

favorite subjects in school: social sciences

where does my soul feel most at home: sitting in majors hill park downtown ottawa on my picnic blanket with kenya

top 5 fictional characters: data, kathryn janeway, rita farr, geralt of rivia, mary wardwell

top 3 moments in a show that made you ugly cry: the last episode of star trek picard made sob disgustingly for most of the episode and then they slipped in canon wlw seven of nine at the end and i was freaking out for hours afterwards... also while watching s3 of caos. thats all i can think of

earth, the sun, the moon or the stars: earth

favorite kind of weather: a nice summer day that is like. room temperature and sunny. or a slightly chilly fall day.

top 3 characters you kin with: seven of nine, amilyn holdo, holtzmann

favorite medium of art: i like using graphite mostly :)

introvert/extrovert/ambivert: introvert

favorite literary quote: august said wild geese by mary oliver now i feel like a copycat but 😐🧠 i have been thinking about it a lot recently. specifically"you do not have to be good. you do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. tell me about your despair, yours, and i will tell you mine."

some of your favorite books: this is how you lose the time war - amal el-mohtar and max gladstone, queens shadow/queens peril - ek johnston, the witcher series - andrzej sapkowski

if you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?: to travel constantly would be nice. i haven't been enough places to know where id want to live really.

if you could live in any time in history when would it be?: for obvious reasons i don't rlly want to live in a different time period even though i think so many are cool. id probably just say the mid-late nineties. id go balls to the walls crazy seeing voyager/xena/b5/more as they came out on tv and i could probably see some cool concerts :)

if you could play any instrument masterfully what would it be?: BANJO

if you have one, what mythological god or goddess do you have a connection to?: um idrk abt this

lastly, favorite recent selfie in your camera roll: 

i dont know who to tag 😬 mutuals if you feel motivated to do this tag me, id like to see :)

[aurorawest]

Writing asks 30,38 and 40?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

Honestly not much of one. Years and years ago, I had this dream that involved like, a mound that led to another world? And there were crows, and a dude that got sucked into this world and had to do something dramatic. I woke up and wrote down as much of it as I could remember, and I did start writing a story. It never got very far, though.

I have extremely vivid, action-packed, often very weird dreams, but I almost never think they'd make for a good fic.

And actually, I kind of dreamed about writing last night? It was more like I was in my original novel, which I want to convert to an mlm romance instead of m/f. And in the dream I was like, aware that I needed to change the main character to a guy, and it was sort of happening as I was dreaming? Idk, it was weird.

One thing I do dream about writing though? Music. I dream about writing music a lot. And no, I never remember it when I wake up, only that I wrote it and it was really good.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I don't think I do anything that weird, I guess? A lot of times I'll test dialogue out loud, but I feel like a lot of people probably do that.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

This is not a very original choice, but here's "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

-----

Thank you so much for asking!!

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

[honourablefool]

I don't believe in retribution. I don't believe in punishment. I don't really believe there is anything a person can do wrong that makes them truly deserve to be harmed. But I do not believe in forgiveness. Let me explain.

There are two kinds of forgiveness I've been drilled on pretty much since birth. Two extremes. The first is simple and shallow.

"apologize"

"sorry I hit you"

"forgive your sister"

"I forgive you"

No lasting slight, no real reparation, forgotten in minutes. This is a nothing word, meaningless.

The other is more complex. The other deals with the idea that someone who crafted every detail of your being could find you so wanting that you must beg them to overlook the shortcomings they knowingly built in. The idea that even if you beg they can't muster enough grace to look upon you with love until they first enact horrible vengeance-by-proxy on an innocent.

I do not want this kind of forgiveness. If there is a creator, I want nothing to do with them.

When someone hurts another person--truly, deeply, in a way that they won't soon forget--I firmly believe that there is not a way to make that right. No apology or reparation that can undo it. No retribution, no grudge, no "forgiveness" that will restore what was lost.

This sounds bleak. This sounds like I am discouraging hope for growth, for the healing of both parties. This is not what I intend.

When the person this is more or less about broke a three year silence to apologize for what he recognized as inexcusable behavior, I accepted his apology. I told him how good it was to hear from him. I told him, "I think I would very much like to be friends again."

That was true. Every word.

I did not forgive him.

For my own sake, I have to remember what he did. I have to be prepared for something like it to happen again. I have to be ready to look out for myself, even if it hurts. To say "I forgive you" in the first way, the flippant way, when all this is true is either to lie or to relinquish my self preservation. I refuse to do either.

The second way is worse. The second way demands repayment. To ask him to give back what he took would be cruel and ultimately fruitless. I do not want my pain paid with his. Whatever vengeful gods there may be, I do not aspire to their ranks.

Even to ask him for proof that he is no longer a person who would act the way he did would render the whole thing transactional. He does not have to earn my friendship, my sincere fondness. That I give freely.

He does, however, have a long road before he earns my trust again.

That is my point, I think. To paraphrase a poem I love, he does not have to walk on his knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. I do not want him to. But things cannot ever go back to how they were. You can't cross the same river twice. And I cannot offer forgiveness.

Been reflecting on someone who hurt me in the past and I think I've decided I don't believe in the concept of forgiveness. Bear with me, my reasoning is gentler than you might think