#Writing Efficiency

[everythingaboutbiotech]

We all struggle with writing, especially in academic contexts. This particular method proved immensely beneficial in my journey of crafting my MPhil thesis, offering invaluable assistance. It provided the essential support needed to overcome the challenges inherent in academic writing.

Shitty First Draft Concept: The concept of the “shitty first draft,” a writing technique coined by Anne Lamott in her book “Bird by Bird” (1994). It emphasizes the importance of writing a rough first draft without worrying about quality.

Writing Process: The technique involves letting ideas flow freely onto paper, knowing it can be shaped later. This approach helps writers overcome the fear of starting and the pressure of creating a perfect first draft.

Benefits: By writing a “shitty first draft,” writers can get their thoughts out and familiarize themselves with the scope of their work. This makes subsequent editing steps easier and more effective.

[mdjomiruddin]

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[ctrinity]

Canva Magic Write ✨🖊️

Canva Magic Write Magic Write is Canva’s AI-powered copywriting assistant designed to help users easily generate various types of text, from blog posts to letters.

🖊️ Canva Magic Write Magic Write is Canva’s AI-powered copywriting assistant designed to help users easily generate various types of text, from blog posts to letters. Canva Magic AI Writer 💡 Idea Generation This tool assists in brainstorming by providing new ideas and topics, making it easier to create content across different formats. Canva Paragraphs Generator 🎨 Integration into Designs Users…

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan, soon after that:

Seems too dramatic to be a coincidence

[themeraldee]

Awkward sex prompt: homelander figuring out how to control his strength with a human reader, who still wants rough sex, but would prefer to be alive at the end of it.

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.2k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Realistic sex. Communicating during sex. Choking. Penetration (but not specified). Fluff at the end.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“But I want you to.” 

It really should have been no surprise to Homelander when you requested he goes a little rougher on you in bed. At first he was taken aback, stopping the pace he was fucking into you with, jerking his head back as if offended, choking on his breath in surprise. You know who he is, bringing up the use of his strength is no small ask. But you’ve shown the signs before. He could hear the spike in your heart rate anytime he’d showcase the incomprehensible strength he possesses. Whether it was him moving heavy objects, accidentally bending steel frames in his penthouse or breaking furniture—like that one time he ripped the headboard off during a particularly fine blowjob—you loved it. Though he never thought that your dirty little thoughts went straight to him using that strength on you. 

“What if I can’t hold back?” He looks down where you’re right below him, all flushed and spread out for him. He’s been giving you a damn good time but it’s like you can never get enough of him. Always wanting more, more, more.

“You can. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Adding a tiny bit more pressure isn’t gonna change anything.”

The one thing Homelander loves about you the most is the pure trust you have in him. After all you’ve seen of him you still believe that there’s no world in which he would purposefully hurt you. So to hear you all but beg for him to use strength that has more than decimated many gets his heart soaring. The feeling of acceptance and unconditional love blooms warm in his chest spreading all the way out to the fingertips currently wrapped around your neck.

“Come on, what’s the point of being the strongest man in the world if you can’t rough me up a bit? I’ll tell you if it’s too painful okay?”

Your hand sat on top, your fingers tracing over his as you squeezed your hand.

“A little more.” You guide him verbally and manually. Your hand is still squeezing around his own until you reach a point where you’re satisfied with his confidence to do this himself and you pull your hand away. “Yeah, that’s it.” You squeak out a little breathlessly as he restricts your airflow.

“That’s good?” He asks, choking on his words halfway at the way you squeeze around him while he’s still lodged firmly inside you. He jerks with his movement, giving you a very short snappy thrust but after your little intermission where you taught him how to choke even this little sensation made you moan.

Homelander’s eyes widen when he realizes the sheer potential of your request. Not only could he hear your heartbeat, your shaky breaths and moans, he could now also feel them. Right against his fingertips. The moan vibrated against his hot skin, your heartbeat constantly thrumming all around him. He felt it in the way you were tight and clenching around him and now he felt it under his grip.

He released his hand a little, settling the palm of it in between your collarbones.

“See? Wasn’t that good? I love feeling your strength, let me have a little more of it.” You say it with such conviction, inviting him in, accepting him exactly—no, especially—because of the way he is.

The last thing Homelander wants is to not be able to fulfill your needs. As much as the thought of hurting you—actually hurting you—kills him, if it’s something you find excitement in he’ll be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

He pulls you down the length of the bed a little bit to give himself more space and with a grin he pins your wrists above your head, holding them down against the mattress with little effort. He knows he’s doing something right when that startles you, you let out a cute yelp that quickly turns into a moan. God, he could eat you up with the way you’re looking at him. But he’s gonna need to leave that for round two. Now he’s here to fulfill a wish.

He slowly picks up the pace. He’s thrusting slow and deep while his other hand freely explores your body underneath him, giving it generous squeezes as he goes. He’s testing the give of you. Learning where he can apply the pressure you so desperately crave. 

He’s fucking into your faster now, grunting at the sheer heat of you surrounding his cock with every slide. His hand glides up your body, settling back on your neck. He gives you a look as if he was warning you of what’s to happen. Yet he still manages to catch you off guard. With the snap of his hips and the iron-clad grip of his hand your eyes widen in what Homelander only translates to fear.

Immediately, he lets go.

“Why did you stop?!” You look at him, your own hand gliding across where his hand was squeezing a second ago, as if to chase the phantom feeling, recreating it yourself.

“Why did I stop? You got scared and I don’t want to fucking kill you!” He sounds angry but it’s mainly to hide the genuine worry that comes with this irresponsible play. It’s already hard for him to hold back anytime you’re having normal sex. Wanting him to rough you up conjures very different imagery in either one of your minds.

“Baby, the scary part is the best bit. I know you’ll stop before it’s too much. You can feel the give of my body. Let yourself feel that, okay?” You say softly, soothing his fears. In your entire relationship he’s not managed to hurt you, you don’t imagine it was about to start now.

“Now come on, I wanna cum with your hand around my neck.” You give him a cheeky smile that breaks him out of any doubts he had about manhandling you the way you’ve requested.

He’s given you exactly what you’ve asked for. Just enough squeeze and pressure that you feel so overwhelmed with the greatness of his presence pinning you down and nearly squeezing the life out of you that you succumb to your release. Homelander follows you there, unable to hold off after seeing the way you look at him with such adoration right after he let your airways open fully and you regained your senses. 

After you’re both beyond blissed out you snuggle up to one another, locking the jigsaw pieces of your bodies together.

Homelander traces a finger across the bruised finger marks wrapping around your neck. Part of him relishes in the way he’s managed to brand you where you won’t be able to hide it easily. Even with a scarf or a turtleneck, any slight move of the garment will expose the impressive size of your lovingly placed bruises. 

The other part of him isn’t that happy about it.

“I hurt you.”

“Duh! I wanted you to!” You scoff as if it was the most obvious thing.

His fingers trace over them some more before he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.  

“You’re fucking crazy.” He lets out a little disbelieving laugh as he pulls you closer into his arms.

“Yeah, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, this is all you.” 

“Maybe. Hey, can we try spanking next?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten  @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

[ghirahimbo]

actually, I don't know how anyone else would apply this to their writing process, but something that's been working really well for me (<- adhd, focus issues) recently is writing at the piano so I can alternate between writing and practicing? I don't know, there's just something about writing a few lines/paragraphs/whatever until writing starts to feel unbearable, switching to the sequence I'm practicing and playing it through a few times (while the next lines simmer in the back of my mind), and then moving back to the writing when I'm ready that's kept me much happier and engaged than staring into space or attempting to muscle through?

again, not sure how this applies to people who don't play the piano exactly, unless there's maybe a similar activity that's not too engaging that you can switch in and out of easily? felt worth sharing, though

[myosotis--sylvatica]

Every single time I reread A Study in Scarlet I am startled when halfway through it becomes deeply inaccurate america fanfiction. Like Holmes reveals the murderer and immediately the next chapter is waxing poetic about the harsh, barren landscape of the western (??) US.

One cannot truly forget the Murder Mormons, but I always put it out of my mind for long enough that the switch jumpscares me.

[xitsensunmoon]

Thinking about how dca would always feel incomplete. How tech always gets old and impractical and needs to be upgraded again and again and again, because the world around is changing all the time but they don't.

You also change.

They feel a weird combination of pride and jealousy. You change on your own. You, a human being, something so fragile and breakable in their eyes, can change however you want. Whenever you want.

It's in your nature.

They, on the other hand, are created by your folk's hands. Their only nature is to obey those hands. To rust until you say otherwise.

Do you even realise how much unpronounced power you have over someone like them? They think you don't.

Yes, they're made to be stronger. Maybe more durable in some ways. If anything, something like them may kill the humanity one day.

But then they'll rust. But not in a physical sense of this word.

The world around them will change. But they will stay the same.

Because unlike you, something that they deem to be as fascinating as it is terrifying,

they cannot adapt.

[quantumfeat72]

(low-res screencap because tumblr fucking ate this ask when i tried to save my reply to it as a draft...)

(index post) (the prev ask)

shfjshfjgk thank!!!!

i think they all agreed on a place to meet where they knew siffrin/stardust was likely to end up at some point, hoping to intercept them. so bonnie just wakes up one morning like “NILLE WE HAVE TO GO TO CORBEAUX RIGHT NOW” and after several hours of arguing petronille has to accept that either she's bringing them to corbeaux or they're running away and she's following them there. sometime around when they run into a sadness on the road and bonnie ends up one-shotting it, she starts to believe them about the whole time travel thing

and when they find this weird glowing-head creature and siffrin (but not the siffrin we’re looking for? bonnie what the crab is going on???) she is very torn between her distrust of strangers and relief that she’s no longer the only adult in this traveling party (and bonnie is often more willing to listen to her if loop backs her up)

she is not optimistic about meeting stardust though, after hearing the way loop & new siffrin talk about them

meanwhile isabeau meets up with mirabelle in dormont and makes the trip to corbeaux with her. i think they end up getting there first? and are stuck waiting for the others and trying to figure out if the king is even still living there :p but, yes, isa WILL implode upon seeing stardust for the first time

and yeah lol, madame “i would do anything to protect all of you” odile did NOT hesitate to use whatever tools she could find to go back with siffrin and help them. i think she’s actually the first to find them, on her way to corbeaux...

aaand i'm gonna cut myself off there in the interest of sleeping sometime tonight. but. i think this might legit be the canon post-loops for this au now...

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[serpentface]

WARDI TERMS OF ENDEARMENT

emense [ɛmɛnse] (eh-mehn-say)

Has meaning close to 'beloved' or 'darling'. "Ya emense" (meaning 'my beloved'/'my darling') is often contracted "y'mense".

bubuch [bubuk] (boo-bookh)

Somewhat of a nonsense word, basically ‘big-big’. Tends to either be used for small children or flirtatiously between adults (kind in between 'baby' and 'big boy' in functionality, though without gendered implications of the latter). Sometimes instead used as a form of intense condescension.

ya mache mes [ja mɑke mes] (yah mah-kay mace)

Functionally means "my other face", using the figurative word for face describing a concept of fundamental nature rather than anatomy. Very intense term of endearment, expresses the recipient as a core part of one's identity. Kind of equivalent to 'my other half' but not exclusively romantic.

ya tsitsima [ja ͡tsi͡tsimə] (yah tsee-tsee-muh)

Means "my blood". This term is used more broadly to denote familial relations, and is more of a term of endearment when used outside of actual biological relationship (calling your sister 'my blood' is just an intense way of saying 'my [relative]', calling a non-relative 'my blood' is VERY pointedly affectionate).

ya ungande [ja ungɑnde] (yah oon-gahn-day)

Often contracted to y'ungande, dead literally means "my liver" as in the organ. Ungande alone is also used as a food-based term of endearment, similar to 'honey' except instead with delicious organ meat.

anuje [ɑnudʒe] (ah-noo-jay)

Food based term of endearment, referring to a tree sap that is the most commonly used form of sweetener. Functionally identical to 'honey' in usage.

anu tlansekoma [ɑnu tlɑnsekoʊmə] (ah-noo tlahn-say-koh-muh)

This one actually means 'honey' (dead literally 'bee sweet'). Less common than 'anuje' as a term of endearment due to general cultural preference for anuje as a sweetener and the relative rarity of beekeeping.

inyagit [injəgit] (een-yah-geet)

Diminutive form of 'sun'. 'Ya inya' (my sun) occurs as well, but is less common.

y'mit agai [j'mit ɑgaɪ] (yuh-meet ah-gai)

Contraction of 'ya amit agai', 'my blue moon'. This specification is more common than a general 'my moon(s)' and is fairly loaded, given this particular moon is the site of the afterlife for the most honored dead. The phrase both suggests a sort of celestial beauty and a sense of being honored and finding rest in the recipient. This is a VERY intense and almost exclusively romantic term of endearment.

coutomara [koʊtoʊmɑrə] (koh-to-mahr-uh)

Means 'handsome' or 'beautiful', implies masculine attractiveness. (Dead literally closer to 'strong face'/'strong featured').

jaimara [dʒaɪmɑrə] (jaim-mahr-uh)

Means 'pretty' or 'beautiful', implies feminine attractiveness (dead literally close to 'beautiful face'/'beautifully featured').

katsuy [kɑtsui] [kaht-soo'ee]

Sexually charged description of physical attractiveness, basically calling someone 'sexy'.

ya katsuymen [ja kɑtsuimɛn] (yah koht-soo'ee-mehn)

Related and also sexually charged, close in meaning to 'my desire'.

at akmatse yachouy [ɑt ɑkmɑtse jɑtʃɔɪ] (aht ahk-mat-say yah-choi )

Sexually explicit term of endearment. The dead literal translation is "one who makes me flower". The word "flower" here is not as euphemistic in context and is rather the nicest sounding possible way to say "makes me cum (HARD)". Not considered vulgar, rather cloyingly romantic if anything.

gan(ne) ama [gɑn(e) ɑmə] (gah(-nay) ahm-uh)

Means 'bull'. When used affectionately, implies masculine strength. Usually used in conjunction with an adjective (ie 'handsome bull') or more teasingly gannit ama (little/baby bull))

jaimeti [dʒaɪmɛti] (jai-meh-tee)

Means 'gazelle' (the name for the animal itself is close in meaning to 'beautiful horn'), heavily associated with grace and beauty. Also tends to be used with adjectives ('lovely gazelle' 'handsome gazelle' etc) or with a diminutive.

ansiba [ɑnsibɑ] (ahn-see-bah) or ansibit [ɑnsibit] (ahn-see-beet)

Means 'duck' and 'duckling' respectively, specifically refers to the animal and implies cuteness. Ansibit is a very common term of endearment for children.

"Wannaukoma such datse anmo" [wɑnaʊkoʊmə suk dɑtse ɑnmoʊ] (wahn-now-koh-muh sookh daht-say ahn-moh)

Means 'an ant could swallow you', implies cuteness (ie the recipient is so small and tiny an Ant could devour them whole). Usually used on children, occasionally used on adult women (in a way that feels intensely patronizing to many). 'Datse' (you) may be replaced by the recipients surname or honorific in the rare case that someone would dare calling someone this without being on first name basis with them.

wannaukomit [wɑnaʊkoʊmit] (wahn-now-koh-meet)

Means 'little ant', a term of endearment that borders on insulting even to babies.

OTHER:

-it [it] (eet)

This is a diminutive modifier, which can be added to a name or other word/term of endearment to denote affection (can also be condescending). It lacks internal meaning in everyday use and is closer to the English -y or -ie (billy johnny rosie susie puppy kitty ducky etc).

hippe [hipɛ] (heep-peh) (some dialects drop the h sound entirely)

Means 'small' or 'little', can be spoken with other words/names as an affectionate diminutive.

Other epithets-

Various epithets used in the language are not exclusively used as terms of endearment, but can be contextually. Most commonly, this will be the -machen epithet of the recipients zodiac birthsign (particularly those considered auspicious). Someone with the lion birthsign could be respectfully and/or affectionately called 'odomachen', or VERY affectionately called 'ya odo' ('my lion'). There's also a good variety of poetic epithets that have worked their way into common language as affectionate compliments/descriptors- ie ganatoche (dead literally 'cow-eye', more prettily 'ox-eyed') is a complimentary descriptor for brown eyes, anaemaitsa (dead literally 'river-haired', more prettily 'flowing-haired') compliments wavy hair.

Given name basis-

In Wardi culture, full names are spoken with the family name preceding the given name. When respectfully speaking to a stranger, peer, or authority figure, you refer to them by their family name, title, and/or an honorific. Being on an accepted given name basis with someone is generally indicative of closeness and affection.

datse [dɑtse] (dah-tsay)

This is the word for "you". Similarly to the use of a given name, actually referring to someone as 'you' (rather than a surname, title, or honorific in place of the pronoun) expresses familiarity and intimacy.

[superbat-lmao]

Superbat but it’s Booth and Brennan from Bones™️.

Bruce is trapped in a situation where he genuinely believes he may die and writes Clark a letter that will later be read as the vows at their wedding.

Or there’s a supervillain that says they will only come out of the woodwork at Superman’s funeral so when he gets hurt on a mission they hold a public funeral for him. And Bruce isn’t told he’s alive until he catches the supervillain at the funeral by taking the dummy in Superman’s casket and hitting the villian, and Clark, with its detached plastic arm. Bruce being pissed that no one told him. That Clark didn’t tell him. But also, that for it to be believable, Batman had to grieve.

Maybe they spot scars on one of the kids’ backs and know they don’t want to talk about it so Bruce, unprompted, shares a deeply personal trauma in order to level the playing field and Clark follows suit.

Alfred is on trial for something he definitely did (kill joker?) but Bruce doesn’t want his father to go to prison so he creates plausible doubt that he committed the crime and testifies against Superman in court to that effect.

Going undercover with the circus and “rocking the trailer” as part of that cover.

The ideas are endless.

[deadandphilgames]

some out of context packing pals

[yikes-ajax]

I dont have a clever and witty sarcastic comment tonight, I just think she's cute

[fidgetspringer-art]

Equestrian AU part 2 Tansy makes her (Loud) appearance.

At the tail end of the following week. Martin gets his first taste of one Noah Powell.

Him and Casey are sitting on the front steps, waiting for their new guests to arrive, when a gleaming black pickup truck comes crawling up the gravel driveway, leaving a plume of dust behind it. It’s hauling a huge trailer that looks more like one of those mobile homes than it does a horse trailer.

The truck comes to a halt in front of them, and out climbs who Martin first mistakes as the owner, until the actual man of the hour comes around the side of the truck, and some vague memory is triggered somewhere in Martin’s head. He’s seen that face before, somewhere, but he couldn’t say where exactly.

The taller of the two comes up to shake Martin’s hand. “Gabriel Warren, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hart.”

“You as well.”

He doesn’t get to say anything else before Gabriel is stepping to the side. “This is Noah, he’s the owner.”

Noah steps up, curtly offering Martin his hand. “Noah Powell. Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

Gabriel’s eye twitches. He manages to look apologetic when he smiles at them. “Noah isn’t super keen on this idea. He’s never handed his horses off to someone else before.”

“Never needed to.” He cuts in. He’s looking around the farm with disinterest. Like he would rather be anywhere else.

Martin wonders how much of that is a reluctance to leave his horse behind, and how much is genuinely thinking he’s got better places to be right now. Martin hates this guy already. He’s got the sort of attitude that grates on his nerves. It hasn’t been five minutes and he’s starting to regret taking him on.

“Not to worry, Noah.” Casey pipes up. Cheery despite the fact that she’s gone completely ignored so far. “We’ve got an open gate policy here at Hilltop. You’re free to come visit whenever you’d like.”

Martin tips his head in Casey’s direction. “This here is Casey. I suppose you’ve already spoken over the phone. She runs this place, pretty much.”

Gabriel is polite enough to offer her his hand. “Good to finally meet you.” He looks between them, “So the farm is a bit of a marital business then, I take it?”

Casey is quicker on the draw than Martin is. “Oh no! Not quite. People do often joke that we’re practically a married couple, but we’re just old friends is all.”

It’s not the first time this assumption has been made. Casey has been at his side since they were teenagers. She’s his oldest friend, and maybe in a different world they might have ended up married. But in this one, they don’t exactly line up with each other’s preferences.

“Ah, sorry for assuming I-” Gabriel is cut off by a loud bang echoing out between the buildings. Followed by another. Then the trailer starts to rattle with the sound of stomping hooves.

“Better get her off the trailer before she throws a fit.” He’s already moving to get the door open. Martin follows. Curious to get his first look at this horse. From the racket she’s making now he can already tell he’s got his work cut out for him.

He watches Gabriel lower the door carefully to the ground, revealing a pitch black mare with tall, white socks. She’s glistening with sweat and her eyes are wild and searching, taking in her surroundings eagerly. As soon as she realizes she’s in a new place, the whinnying starts up.

And she is loud.

Martin watches the way she’s not standing still even for a second. She doesn’t wait to listen for the other horses to call back to her. She just starts tossing her head, rattling the beam in front of her and kicking out against the dividing wall against her side. She’s a flurry of stress and motion and Martin has seen the exact same thing a hundred times before.

Gabriel clips two lead ropes onto her halter, one on each side, before he hands one over to Noah, who’s come over to presumably help him. “You got her?”

Noah waves him off. “Just get on with it before she breaks a fucking leg.”

Gabriel unlatches the dividing wall, and the moment it swings outward, the mare is making a break for it.

She doesn’t get far, not with one man on either side of her, laying on the lead ropes. But she manages to drag them both a few feet out and away from the trailer before she stops, head held so high she’s almost on her tip-toes, blowing out a snort that sounds more like a dragon than a horse.

Gabriel is patting her neck, murmuring to her in an attempt to get her to settle down. But she responds by calling out with the full capacity of her athlete’s lungs. Martin is almost tempted to cover his ears.

Noah yanks on the lead rope, hard. “Hey! Cut it out.” The mare doesn’t so much as flinch. He looks to Martin next. “Where do you want her?”

He points down to the gate that leads into the main pasture. “Just take her down there, if you can.”

Noah wrinkles his nose. “You won’t be able to catch her. Don’t you have a corral or something?”

“She’s getting a few days in the pasture to settle in. I’ll catch her when I need her. Don’t worry.” He tries to sound reassuring, without letting his disdain show through.

It’s not often that Martin is this put off by his clients. He’s dealt with plenty of people at the end of their rope. People who are angry, and tired and who take that out on their horses. But the disrespect this man radiates has red flags all over it.

Noah scoffs. “I’d rather she be in a smaller paddock.”

That takes him by surprise. “Why? She hurt?” he hasn’t heard anything about her being injured, he wouldn’t usually take on a horse that’s recently failed a vet check.

“No. It’s just what she’s used to. I’d rather she not get hurt.” He says it like Martin is stupid for not understanding.

He suddenly knows exactly what type of owner he’s dealing with here. “You read the contract, correct?”

Noah’s frown deepens. It doesn’t help that the mare is tossing her head, jostling him sharply every few seconds. “I did.”

“Then you’ve agreed to my terms. I can’t guarantee she won’t hurt herself while in my care. But I won’t lock her up just to ease your mind. You leave her here, she’s living the same way the rest of my horses are.”

Noah looks like he’s just bitten into a lemon. Martin can tell this is it. They’re at a fork in the road, and either Noah will load his mare back on the trailer and go home, or he’ll agree to Martin’s terms. He’s almost a hundred percent sure it’ll be the former, based on how Noah is now staring back at the trailer, cheeks red with how angry he is. The mare tosses her head again, front feet lifting off the ground for a handful of seconds.

“Fine.”

Martin blinks. Oh. He gathers himself quickly. “The pasture, then. I’ll get the gate for you.”

Noah is the one to reach up and unbuckle the halter at the gate.

It slips down her white-streaked nose and the moment she feels it drop, she’s off, not so much as a thought spared in her owner’s direction. She’s running full tilt down the pasture, a spray of dirt and grass whipped up behind her.

She looks around frantically as she runs, until she spots the herd already grazing further down. She comes to a screeching halt, tail still up like a flag and calls out to them.

All the horses in here are Martin’s own, except for the two that belong to Casey. He wouldn’t dare mix client horses together, not without knowing what to expect from them. So he always starts them off with his own herd to see how they do. There are seven of them in total. All of them calm and uncomplicated in their dynamics. Harmonious. This mare seems to be everything but.

Noah has only just now spotted the rest of the herd. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “You didn’t tell me she’d be turned out with a bunch of others.”

Martin shrugs. “Didn’t think to state the obvious.”

Noah scoffs, but he doesn’t shoot let slip whatever snarky remark Martin can tell he’s holding back on. And thank god for that. Martin is already getting close to fed up with this guy. The sooner he’s turning his trailer around and leaving, the better.

He can’t help but notice however, the way that some of that tense anger drains out of Noah as he watches his horse be greeted by the rest of the herd. Achilles is the first to reach her. They touch noses. The big lad is calm and gentle about it, ears up and curious to have a look at the newcomer. The mare is a little more dramatic. She’s jerking her head back every time Achilles touches her, all while making an unnecessary amount of noise and kicking up dirt. Achilles weathers the storm with the patience of a saint, and soon his calm seems to help settle the mare a little was well.

Martin can’t help sneaking glances over at her owner while everything is going down. He’s leaning on the top beam of the fence, arms tucked up under his chin. There’s a softness to him now that wasn’t there before. He’s watching the horses interact with a spark of wonder in his eye that makes Martin want to lean in closer, just to get a better look.

“What’s her name?” He says instead, when he realizes he doesn’t know.

Noah’s eyes shift over to him briefly, that tense line between his brows returns the moment Martin speaks. “Tansy.” He says it like he’s challenging Martin to make a comment.

“Like the flower?”

Noah snorts. “More like a weed.”

“Depends who you ask, I suppose.”

That makes Noah look over at him again, something unreadable on his face. “I suppose.”

Martin realizes then that there is something odd about his eyes. Aside from how he seems to wield them like a knife. One pupil is much wider than the other. His left is barely a pinprick against the blue, the other so blown it’s almost all black. It’s a striking look, and in a strange way it suits him. There isn’t really anything else remarkable about him. He’s decent to look at, but aside from the constant scowl on his face the only thing that really stands out about him, now that Martin has noticed, are is eyes. Yet for some reason, Martin has never wanted to keep looking at someone more.

He makes himself stop staring, before he gets caught. He has a feeling Noah wouldn’t take too kindly to it, and he likely wouldn’t be shy about calling him out on it either. He looks back out towards the horses instead, where Tansy is being approached by the rest of her new pasture mates.

She greets the rest of the herd more politely, but not entirely without drama, and after goading them all into running a few laps up and down the pasture, they all decide that the theatrics are over for now and get on with grazing.

Martin knows they’ll have another few rounds of screaming and bickering before they all figure each other out, but for now, the initial introduction is over and done with. “She did good.”

Noah doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “At least no one ended up broken.”

“She’ll be alright. Spending some time with the others’ll be good for her.”

They wordlessly turn away from the fence to make their way back towards the house. Gabriel vanishes into the trailer to fetch Tansy’s tack and feed, while Noah stands back with Martin and Casey, seemingly not in a rush to help him.

“So. How long do you think this is going to take?”

Martin has been asked the same thing countless times before, but it never stops being his least favorite question. “Hard to estimate. I’ll give her a good few days to settle in, then I’ll have the vet out to look her over, before I start working with her.”

“She’s already been vet checked.” Noah protests. “Extensively. Nothing wrong with her.”

“Not by my vet, she hasn’t. It’s not up for negotiation.”

Noah looks like he’s about to argue, but then Gabriel steps out of the trailer, arms loaded up with tack. “Where’s your tack room, Martin?”

Martin jumps at the chance to take Gabriel down to the barn to show him. He can feel the displeasure in Noah’s glare on the back of his head as he walks away.

It’s going to be a long few months.

[Part 1 here]

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part One

For Xiantober Day One: Genius… albeit stretching the prompt so it refers to MXTX and MDZS itself, but at the end of the day it’s still about WWX – so no harm done!

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

The narrative is a very active player in MDZS’ story. How it presents information, what it chooses to show and omit, often reflects important facets of its themes and characters – Nie Huaisang, for instance, is so good at hiding behind his mask that not even the narrative can hold him accountable; the present day’s storyline as a murder mystery and the slow reveal of information about the past both prompt the reader to think critically about the truth of events, when the importance of thinking critically is an important theme; and the dangers not thinking critically (and instead basing conclusions on rumours without much evidence) are shown by tricking unquestioning readers into the very same trap the cultivation world falls into, as the information given by the title, summary and in-universe rumours – which contradicts how we see actually Wei Wuxian act – turns out to be false.

But nowhere do I love this trait more than in its treatment of Wei Wuxian – and, more specifically, in its way of emphasising his agency. We’re not just told how much his active choices define his character, and we’re not just shown this in-universe through his personality, worldview and the events he causes. I’d argue that this aspect goes a step further, and shapes the structure of the out-of-universe narrative as well.

There are two main ways this happens: one, in how the aspects of Wei Wuxian’s life that are shown and hidden directly tell us what’s important about his character (which is good writing but isn’t necessarily tied to this shaping of the narrative), which is what we’ll explore today; and two, how what’s shown and hidden reflects what Wei Wuxian himself prefers to dwell on, resulting in the narrative respecting his own thoughts and feelings on matters (which very much is tied to it). We’ll explore this at a later date.

But as for now – let’s explore my favourite aspect of MDZS.

(Here, narrative agency will be considered the ability of a character to meaningfully influence their events and the story they’re in.)

Tragedy, Circumstance, Choice

If we simply look at Wei Wuxian’s backstory in a vacuum, it seems almost typically tragic. His  parents died in circumstances beyond his control, he was left alone as a child with nobody to care for him, he was forced to grow up fending for himself on the streets, he was faced with abuse when he finally was taken in… as with all typical woobies, everything simply happened to him, and none of it was good. It’s just another example of the lack of agency being used for sympathy points, right?

…Except there’s one problem with that idea. We don’t actually see any of this.

It would’ve been easy to start the flashbacks during these times. We’re telling the story of Wei Wuxian in (largely) chronological order, and these are likely important experiences for him! But instead of starting in his street days, or evenat the moment Jiang Fengmian took him in*, we start at the lectures in the Cloud Recesses. That’s not even something mentioned in, and therefore something that’s able to disprove, the rumours at the start of the novel. So why is this the case? 

Well, there are multiple reasons – the main one being that MDZS is also Lan Wangji’s (and Wangxian’s) story, and having the flashbacks open with their first meeting is very satisfying. But I want to focus on something else.

This period doesn’t have to be shown, because what happens to Wei Wuxian, especially out of his control, isn’t what’s important about his character.

We’re not even at Lotus Pier here, where Wei Wuxian certainly has more agency than he would’ve had as a young child, but where the harm caused by Madame Yu is still completely out of his control. Here, he has agency! Though there are consequences, he is free to act, and what happens to him is a result of those actions and not of circumstance. Yes, he gets punished more than others who also take those same actions (due to classism); yes, it’s not his choice to be picked on by Lan Qiren in class (yet look how he responds, twisting the situation to his advantage and ending up tricking Lan Qiren into letting him leave, which is what he wanted to do. He is not at all helpless here!); yes, these choices have been influenced by his learned mindset from Madame Yu that punishment is arbitrary and will happen anyway, so you may as well do what you want regardless. But there is cause-and-effect here. It’s not circumstantial tragedy.

Therefore, instead of our first impression of past!Wei Wuxian being that of an unfortunate woobie, it’s of someone who has the freedom, ability and will to choose and act (and that’s after these initial tragic events have taken place). This is compounded by the fact that before we see any of his backstory, we get a similar impression of him in the present day.

If the purpose of his tragic past was to earn him sympathy points, to make us pity him due to how much he was influenced by events out of his control, this would’ve been a terrible way of going about it… and it’s this that betrays the true reason for its existence. Because now, the flashbacks instead show us how little these tragedies define who he is! From the very start, Wei Wuxian isn’t someone defined by circumstances out of his control, but rather by who he is as a person and by what choices he makes in the present day (which is both a mindset in-universe, and a nice little out-of-universe detail that lines up! Because out-of-universe, this means he’s not defined by sympathy points from a backstory, but rather by his great character writing… aka, by who he is as a person and what choices he makes). And this refusal to be defined by tragedy is a conscious choice on his part, too – but we’ll explore that more later. 

The important thing is that this idea of Wei Wuxian isn’t because of what exists in his past, it’s because of what parts of his past are shown to us (as well as what he chooses to do, with agency, in the present). 

Now, if this relationship between what’s displayed and what’s omitted was just a one-time thing, I might’ve considered it a cool detail or a nice way to establish a character, but not something the narrative is actively focusing on. But it’s a pattern that continues throughout the flashbacks. What, arguably, are the two other most important times in Wei Wuxian’s life where he doesn’t have enough agency to meaningfully influence his circumstances? His three months in the Burial Mounds (before escaping – he managed to assume some control of the circumstances but not enough to substantially reduce his suffering in his time there), and his loss and death during the First Siege. And we’re not shown either of them! We skip to when Wei Wuxian has emerged from the Burial Mounds and is torturing the Wens, or we skip to the present day – both times he has agency once more, because, again, what he’s like without it doesn’t matter enough to be shown. 

Furthermore, I’d argue this does actually contrast the other tragic events we see in Wei Wuxian’s later life. Things do go horribly wrong, but it’s either due to choices he knows the consequences of (see: rescuing the Wen Remnants in the first place), or instances where he still has some ability to act in the situation and influence it within the limitations. If he’d had no ability to influence circumstances at Qiongqi path, he would have died in the ambush; if he’d been unable to do that at Nightless City, he would’ve died then, too (of course Lan Wangji helped him escape as well). The attention drawn to him losing control of his actions in both instances is very interesting, but intentional or not, it’s still his actions influencing the plot. And that influence happens to be detrimental. The very ability to act and influence, at a base level,  is not taken away (though, of course, that doesn’t make these events any less tragic).

So, so far, the narrative seems to be telling us that the ability to act and choose is key to Wei Wuxian’s character. And it’s doing it through omitting his moments without agency in favour of instead showing us his moments with it. 

Let’s see if this is echoed in the text itself before we go further – because even with this pattern, nothing would end up mattering if Wei Wuxian’s agency wasn’t actually that important to the story itself. But thankfully it is, and that first impression we get of Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses turns out to very much be accurate! Though there are defining circumstances out of his control that occur, such as the massacre of Lotus Pier, the majority of the important events of his life are due to his own choices. He didn’t happen to be forced to cease traditional cultivation and solely use guidao, didn’t happen to lose his Golden Core in a fight with Wen Zhuliu or due to some force in the Burial Mounds, it was his own choice to give it and his spiritual powers away. He didn’t tragically happen to get targeted by the cultivation world, it was a result of him acting on his morals and protecting the Wen remnants (a choice which he was fully aware of the implications of). He isn’t a protagonist to whom things simply occur, and that activeness and agency is my favourite thing about him. 

That’s not to say that the times Wei Wuxian doesn’t have agency, or feels like he doesn’t have any, don’t exist at all, either – but they are rare enough to have attention directly drawn to them in his internal narration:

Or else what could he do? He could do nothing. He was powerless. Lotus Pier had been destroyed, both Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu were gone, and Jiang Cheng had disappeared as well. He was the only one left, alone, with not even a sword in his hands. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t do anything! For the first time, he discovered how little his power was. In front of something as large as the QishanWen Sect, it was the same as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. - Chapter 59, EXR translation

(And even in this circumstance, note that he still does force himself to act – to carry on searching for Jiang Cheng, to place his faith in Wen Ning – and does accomplish his goal (albeit with the help of others)! So even in dire situations, he isn’t simply passive. This is actually also the case with his time in the Burial Mounds, almost certainly the First Siege, and even his days on the streets as well (Chapter 20: he did actively fight with dogs to get food despite their danger and his growing fear of them, rather than just waiting and hoping to somehow receive some more). He can’t influence or immediately influence his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.)

Overall, although they do influence him, Wei Wuxian is very much who he is in spite of his circumstances, not because of them. We’re shown the importance of his agency both in-universe by the major impacts his choices have on himself and the plot, as well as by narrative presentation – important periods where he lacks the ability to meaningfully influence anything are often mentioned but not directly shown, which suggests that such moments and circumstances aren’t as important to understanding Wei Wuxian’s character as moments where he does have this agency are. And I’d argue this works very well. Depending on the version of the story you consume, you may end up having different interpretations as to how much circumstances were at play nearer the end of his life – but nobody comes out of MDZS thinking about Wei Wuxian, the poor bearer of yet another generically tragic backstory.

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

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*We are shown this moment in more detail in Chapter 23… but even then, it’s through the framing of Wei Wuxian remembering Jiang Yanli’s narration, not through a flashback proper or even him remembering the experience itself!