#From Inspiration to Publication

[luetta]

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Substack Mastery Boost Submission Guidelines

A New Publication for Freelance Writers on Medium.com From Inspiration to a Business Hub Publication Welcome to Substack Mastery Boost publication initially created on Medium.com which will expand to multiple platforms! This is your guidelines for writing business success. Substack Mastery Boost is is not a usual Medium publication. We have 15 publications serving this purpose on Medium. This…

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[inkedberries]

npcs somewhere in the capital, circa 1920

Andrey is an owner of an edgy underground club and architecture is his hobby whereas Peter is an artist the Kains commission frequently and alcohol is his hobby.

[riicky-ye]

Guys, we don’t talk enough about the depth of Furina’s grief over Focalors. Allow me to fix that.

Imagine: you wake up in the middle of an empty stage, a voice calling you. You don’t know who or what you are, you don’t know where you are, but the voice calls you Furina and you know it’s your name.

Then you see the mirror and there’s you, too! Your name is Furina, then there’s a mirror — the Mirror — talking to you, and of course there’s the lines of a prophecy carved into your very being. You know absolutely nothing besides that. How and why did you get on this stage, how old are you, what’s your favourite colour (you wear blue tailcoat so it must be blue), who named you Furina and where you’ve been before.

Everything is blurry and fogged and your head hurt thinking about it. So you stop thinking. You brush those questions off and try to never recall they exist somewhere in your mind — you have a more important thing to do.

That’s right, your name is Furina, and the Mirror talking to you says you were invited to avert the inevitable doom. She says it in Her soft and compassionate voice, like it’s truly an invitation — but you know you’re meant to take the task. This is why you’re here, on this stage, and how did you get there — it doesn’t matter anymore.

Not long after that, the Mirror turns empty, and now there’s only your puzzled face in the reflection, not the perfect, precious, darling She you just saw. Then you feel it. A weird thing in your chest, chilly and uncomfortable. You don’t know what it is but since then it doesn’t leave you.

You live, you play your part, you learn. You actually like the colour blue, and desserts, and you have a beautiful singing voice, and this it, an unsettling feeling behind your ribcage, is called emptiness.

You accept it as a part of yourself. Just like the way you like the colour blue and the way you can’t die and the way eyebags under your lower lids, already heavy when you wake up on the stage, turns heavier and heavier and darker.

Then there’s a trial — a trial of our god, ladies and gentlemen! — and it means you failed. You look at your people and at first you see their suspicious, hostile gazes, but then you see them as puddles of water on the luxurious opera floor, and it doesn’t matter anymore how much they hate you. They can hate you all they want, just please let them stay alive.

Now you know what the Mirror meant when She said about a magnificent and dramatic trial. You were diligent in your duty, you made sure every proceeding ran in this nation was dramatic enough, you dragged the Witness of Teyvat in court, and then, when it didn’t helped, you did the same with the 11th of the Fatui.

Now you know it wasn’t enough. Now you know why. Now you know…

this is why you’re here, on this stage.

It all makes sense now, and for once in your 500 long years you realize with crystalline certainty what you’re needed to do.

It all makes sense now, so you play your part.

You play your part and you fail. No matter how good you argue, how quick you are to find answers, Witness of Teyvat, the damned Traveler, just overpowers you with the force of their charisma and people’s already existing resentment towards you. You fight, and then you ask, and then you plead, and then you beg them to believe you, and they don’t.

They just don’t believe you.

It seems you spent all your parlour-trick smokemirrors pseudo-magic, and none is left.

It would’ve been such a fitting end for a deceiver such as yourself, if not for the fact that your exposure doomed all those who you loved and cherished. All their precious, darling lives will be lost to the Primordial sea. Your knees give up, and you fall back on your fancy — stupid — chair. The Oratrice stirs alive, ready to deliver the death sentence. You don’t have enough willpower to care, not anymore. You sit and cry on your throne, just as it was foretold . Is this why you’re here?

Gears and cogs and pistons of the intricate system that is the Oratrice work faster and faster, and your vision is suddenly clouded with black, so thick you feel blind, but maybe you just blinked because it doesn’t last more than a fleeting second, and right after that…

Something snaps deep inside your chest, like a string broken.

It hurts so bad you think you’re dying, and at the same time — it doesn’t hurt at all. You feel nothing, and yet, you also feel pain you never felt before, and this lingering emptiness, your loyal friend and closest confidante, it swallows you whole.

You stop breathing, because breathing hurts. You stop moving, and it still hurts. Your head, your throat, your chest, but what hurts the most is a fleeting concept of your useless heart, weeping for a precious thing you never knew, because She, the dearest, the loveliest person you ever saw, was never there with you, not really.

She’s dead, you realise with utmost confidence you always lacked.

She’s dead, and her death reverberates through your whole body like a march, like a tsunami, like an agonising crescendo of rainstorm droplets falling down and washing away all that you held dear.

She’s dead, and you’re not.

Why, you ask yourself, because now you have nobody else to ask.

Hours later, when waters give up on destroying the land and everyone is not dissolved, you meet Neuvillette. There’s no resentment in his eyes, no hatred. Only sadness and exhaustion, and something soft and tender, akin to a pity, so you scowl at him, because you can take his hostility, but he has no rights pitying you.

He tells you a story.

This story’s plot sucks, and the twist is the cheapest tears-squeezing crap you saw only in soap operas.

The precious darling goddess in the Mirror was You this whole time, and it’s hard to wrap your head around it, you’re not sure you understand.

It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

Funny, you think.

I’m tired, you say. I need some rest, Monsieur Neuvillette.

You return to your suite to pack some of your belongings. You see the Mirror, the same one you ordered to drag all the way from the opera Epiclese to your personal rooms in the first day of your life, and there’s no You in the Mirror, only the same old you.

You’re suddenly reminded about the tiny snap deep in your chest, the mind-shattering non-existent pain. You cover the Mirror with your bedspread, and you leave the suite.

You cover all the mirrors in your new house first thing when you move in.

[senditothemoonn]

This started as me wanting to draw them as old men and kind of spiralled from there…

[valtsv]

disposability

The Silt Verses, Chapter 31, "Its Gaze Shall Fall O'er Trembling Plains" // The Silt Verses, Chapter 33, "And Where Once Its Howling Forebears Walked" // The Silt Verses, Chapter 39, "This Rotten World Shall Wheeze Its Last" // The Silt Verses, Chapter 40, "This Hateful Hymn Shall Cease"

[duketectivecomics]

‘Jason was Duke’s robin’ ‘tim was dukes robin’ YOURE ALL FOOLS

Steph as dukes most formative robin is RIGHT THERE

[bluecoffeebeanz]

I had to do training modules at work last week and all I could think of were these idiots

[bardsansa]

the last painted portraits of dowager queen alicent hightower and rhaenyra i

rhaenys and visenya, alyssa velaryon, the six wives of maegor, alysanne, aemma arryn

closeups n pfps if you please

[maslosstuff]

Mcfist industries the big bad incorporation (Hidden from the public)

[emperorofthedark]

The weather system is functional... I think. I want to include heat risks (sunburn) and storm risks (struck by lightning), but I haven't done that yet. I did figure out how to link temperatures and weather conditions to the different seasons, so it won't be cold or snowing in June. I haven't tested it extensively because there really isn't anything there yet, but I hope it's all good. Working on the river crossing system now. I think the frozen in winter bit works (it seems to reliably freeze when the temperature is under 32 degrees), and it would appear that the river conditions (safe, moderate, risky, deadly) work with a 20% chance of someone drowning in risky conditions and 40% chance in deadly conditions, and drowned party members are successfully removed from the roster.

Excited to move on to injuries and deaths.

Disclaimer: This is very basic placeholder shit ripped directly from Oregon Trail II, so that I can test codes. And of course there will be pictures, but I have to do some major CC shopping and decorating, so I don't have any taken just yet. I just wanted to share what I have done so far.

[flowerakatsuka]

honse.

[unironicallytes]

Regarding Insane People Behavior, it is actually normal fandom culture to engage with posts in the way that myself and other bloggers did yesterday - that's why every other response to the branching threads was additive or enthusiastic. Notice that there was only a small, strange handful of sad people who had a problem with this typical social interaction. I may be small here in TES spaces but trust me, I've been around long enough in larger fandoms to know. The "How Dare You Engage With My Public Post" Incident is highly highly abnormal, and it is not the usual culture.

Please continue to reblog posts and share your thoughts respectfully! That's how we keep fandoms alive and healthy and how we've always done it on Tumblr. In fact, it's a load-bearing column of fandom culture. If someone starts being Aggressively Insane at you, that's on them.

[toxicroyjamie]

Guys I got my dream student teaching placement!!! 🥹🥹🥹

[autumnmobile12]

Ghost Hunt x My Hero Academia Crossover

Taniyama Mai the Dreaming Hero Epimetheia

Quirk: Retrocognition

The full parameters of Epimetheia’s power have never been fully disclosed to the public, but it is generally understood that she can view past events through oneiric visions and has been able to contact other individuals through said visions be it to communicate with other Pro Heroes, to reassure missing and trapped victims, or to communicate and negotiate with, or in the extreme case, torment villains.  While her work has never gained her any particular renown, her abilities have nonetheless proved invaluable to countless Pros in their efforts to curb the threat of discord in society.

...

Hawks had never doubted the existence of other heroes in his position, but it was in the Commission’s interest to keep their operatives secret from one another, so he'd never met any of them.  If captured by villains, they couldn’t give up information they didn’t have.  Less likely they would stage a coup against their handlers, too, he supposed.  The only reason he——any of them——knew of Lady Nagant was on account of her treachery.  He’d heard of the hero Epimetheia before and had probably met her once or twice.  She had some kind of information gathering Quirk, but he didn’t know the specifics, and she’d retired three years ago after a head injury that rendered her powers virtually unusable.  After that lifetime of the horrific visions she’d seen and experienced, all at the bidding of the Commission, he wondered if the loss of her Quirk had come as a blessing.

...

“They recruited you and poor Kaina because you both were useful and had potential.”  Taniyama said.  “They recruited me because they were afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“The girl who could uncover any secret by dreaming?  Think of all the secrets the Commission hides away.  Scandals, cover-ups.  Of course they wanted my Quirk for their own. Nagant was their gun.  I was their eyes. I exposed every last one of those corrupt Pros, the Commission made them her targets, and I died alongside them when Kaina pulled the trigger."

“Is it true that when you brought down Lady Nagant, you convinced her to surrender,” Keigo asked. “How did you do it? No other Pro could even get close to her.”

“I suspect she was tired of running.  And she probably knew she couldn’t run from me.”  Taniyama brought a hand to her head and gave her temple two sharp taps.  “You can’t run from what’s in your head.”

...

I occasionally still play with this crossover idea. This one explores the idea that her information-seeking abilities would have marked her as a potential threat the Commission wanted under their control.

Given that Mai is much older in this crossover than she is in Ghost Hunt's canon, around forty-five or forty-six, she is not only Hawks' predecessor but Nagant's as well.