#HELP I actually published this!

[viking-writing]

The very first part of my Rammstein fic series is finally uploaded at Ao3!

(After almost 7 whole years of questioning and doubting myself as the annoying perfectionist that I am! I've now finally decided to publish this thing. Bit by bit, into the new year 2025!)

But please be gentle with me as I know the summary text and the "notes" might be a little "too long" for everyone to bother to read! (I was unmedicated when I wrote it and these long notes and summaries won't be added to every single chapter. I swear!)

<3

Mitternacht - A prologue to "Winterherz" (Formally known as "Liebeslied" but we'll see whatever this fic series will be called)) - Chapter 1 - gothicXviking - Rammstein [Archive of Our Own]

[reasonsforhope]

Book Publishing Resources

Well, since a few people said they were interested and/or that posting about it on here occasionally was a decent idea, here we go!

I'm MC Calvi, a freelance editor specializing in self-help, psychology, spirituality, paganism, workbooks, and LGBTQ books.

You can find out more about me at my website, where I also offer free twenty-minute book/publishing consultations, in addition to regular editing services.

I am also now offering some pay-what-you-can resources on my website and on Gumroad. I'm committed to offering pay-what-you-can resources because the odds are already so stacked against marginalized authors, and publishing shouldn't be pay to win.

I have two new booklets I'm actually super happy with! They both draw on my eight years of experience in the publishing industry to give authors a leg up.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming as I hit "publish" on another good news post!

[peaches2217]

Guided Brooding

AO3 Link!

~~~

“Uno! Due! Tre! Quattro! Uno! Due! Tre! Quattro!”

The words ticked back and forth like a metronome in Mario’s head, changing in pace with each new song, but always relatively consistent in its rhythm. Inevitably a stray thought or a stumble would make him lose track, but then Luigi would call out the counts once more until he was (more or less) back in rhythm. That was probably his only saving grace, if he was being honest with himself.

Uno. Due. Tre. Quattro. Shoulders. Square. Spine. Straight. Don’t. Step on. Luigi’s. Feet. Uno. Due. Tre. Quattro.

“Okay! Ready for Phase Two?”

Luigi’s sudden interjection broke Mario’s concentration, and immediately he stumbled and trampled his younger twin’s foot (which made Incident #58, if he was keeping count correctly), yet Luigi didn’t flinch. He guided them both to a standstill, some conspiratorial twinkle in his eye.

“Phase Two?” Mario was almost afraid to ask. No, scratch that— he was afraid.

His brother immediately justified his fears. “Spin me.”

“What—”

“Spin spin!”

With that, Luigi lifted his left arm and Mario’s right, stooping to fit beneath their linked hands as he turned on the balls of his feet. Mario was forced to stand on his toes and thrust the entire right side of his body as high as possible just to keep from losing his grip, and even then, he barely succeeded. He was milliseconds from tipping too far left and faceplanting into the hardwood when it mercifully ended.

“With room to spare!” Luigi cheered on the other side. “See? You’ve got this down!”

Mario stared him down as he resettled on his feet. Luigi, in his defense, had the foresight to wear heels for this impromptu practice. But the tallest shoes he could keep his balance in still only put him at 5’8, a paltry number next to Peach’s 6’1 in her usual modest heels and 6’3 in her finest ballroom attire (read: the heels she would most likely wear during the real deal).

Mario, all 5’1 of him, did not in fact have this down.

The final notes of a mid-tempo song faded into needle chatter. Another record played all the way through. Another testament to his own failure.

As soon as Luigi let go, Mario found himself numbly shuffling towards their couch, pushed against the wall some hours earlier to give the brothers more room to practice. Not that this stopped them from colliding with the cushions or stubbing their toes against the wooden legs. The elder brother paid no mind to his twin rummaging through their music collection and casting suggestions in his direction. 

“...but since it’s kinda jazzy it might be harder to keep up with, but that could also give us a chance to practice, like, syncopation! And maybe that would…” But what did it matter? The next record would serve the same purpose as the first two: background music to accompany his downfall.

Mario plopped his backend onto the overstuffed cushions with the same grace he’d displayed dancing with his brother (which was to say, none). His legs were tired. His calves burned and his thighs tingled from overexertion. Since when did his restless legs get tired? He leaned over the back of the couch and stared up at the slats in the ceiling, as if they might crack open and bring forth some divine revelation that would make this whole mess make sense.

“...Mario? Hey, you okay, bro?”

Mario, burdened with two left feet and a heart that just had to yearn for the unattainable, was not in fact okay. 

He thought he’d known what to expect when he accepted his new role as Peach’s personal guard. She warned upfront that it would be dull and unexciting most of the time, standing through long-winded meetings and sitting through lectures about the inner workings of the Kingdom’s government. It all paled in comparison to the promise that he could spend more time at her side, and even better, the promise that he could serve her and protect her whenever she needed him.

He hadn’t really considered the social aspects of the role until that afternoon. He’d been just as excited for next week’s royal soiree as Peach was. Since he was required to hover nearby wherever his Princess went, he could easily swoop in and save her should any particularly chatty guests monopolize her time — they’d invented hand signs and covert exchanges and everything, which they practiced and perfected over tea cakes and laughter — but what had excited Peach most…

“I’ll finally get a dance out of you yet!” She’d dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin, her smile naïve yet mischievous. “It would be rude for my own guard to refuse any of my requests, after all.”

And she was right. Time after time she badgered him for a dance when he attended her parties as a mere guest. Time after time he informed her that dancing with him was a disastrous idea. It was a game, a playful ongoing back-and-forth, never a serious request, surely not. But now…

She was serious. Oh, stars, she was serious.

“I’m doomed,” Mario groaned at last.

Luigi groaned right back at him, mirroring his tone almost perfectly, and Mario might have been annoyed if he wasn’t also a bit impressed. The clack clack clack of high heels against hardwood tracked across the room, then the couch dipped beside him.

“C’mon,” Luigi said, nudging his shoulder against Mario’s. “Big feelings. Let’s talk ‘em out. You won’t feel better until you do.”

Mario huffed. Feelings. Feelings were supposed to be joyful and colorful and make life more vibrant. Feelings like this served no purpose other than to dampen that color. Life was too short to waste, too beautiful to squander, and sitting around wallowing in his own misery only squandered it further. 

Wallowing with a loved one gets it over with a lot faster, Luigi was always reminding him. And Luigi, who was never one to suffer in silence, was admittedly more of an expert on the topic than Mario was, so who was he to question that wisdom?

He sighed heavily. Might as well.

“I’m gonna screw it all up, Weegee.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’ll look like an idiot. Or worse, I’ll— I’ll make her look like an idiot!”

“You know she won’t let that happen.”

“But it’s not her job to keep me from messing up! I’m the one that’s— it’s my job to—”

“It’s not a job, it’s dancing. A couple mistakes here and there won’t bother her, you know that!”

“Well, no, but…”

Mario clenched his jaw.

He could almost see it, like an image in light projected on the panels above his head. Dancing with Peach. She would guide his steps with patience and grace. He would hold her slender hand safely in his own and hang on her every instruction, and every time he tripped or stepped on her foot, she would giggle, correct him, and lead him back into a steady rhythm.

A smile tugged at his lips. Learning to dance in the haven of her private garden, the rustle of leaves in lieu of music, away from prying eyes…

But it couldn’t happen like that. No, he couldn’t waste their first dance forcing her to teach him. She deserved better. She deserved a competent dancing partner. One who could match her expertise with confidence, who she could trust to fall into step with her right away… who wouldn’t falter even when the whole nation’s eyes were on them…

Mario sat back up just so he could hunch forward, resting his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers through his hair. “I can’t mess this up.” It came out far weaker than he’d hoped. He really was pathetic.

While he sulked, Luigi patted his back and hummed, the drawn-out sort of Hrmmmmm that told Mario his answer wasn’t good enough. “Why not?”

You know why! seemed the most obvious response. Not that he could actually say as much; Luigi would make him say it out loud anyway, and he preferred to avoid invoking that impossible desire by name whenever he could, so he scrambled for an answer with fewer sharp edges.

“Because she’s…” Beautiful. Graceful. Intelligent. Artistic. Astonishing. Literally perfect. Long overdue for an entire religion revolving around her. “She’s a princess,” he eventually settled on.

“And you’re her best friend, yeah?” Luigi’s hand stilled for a moment, then he switched to rubbing circles into his brother’s back. “Look, I-I know this is important to you. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready! Just tell her! You know she won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Heat rushed through Mario’s body. He couldn’t even assemble an Absolutely Not before Luigi cut back in: “Compromises, remember? You can’t always let your pride win. I guarantee ya, promise her a dance next time, and she’ll be over the moon.”

Though he hated to entertain the thought, Mario knew he was right. He grumbled in displeasure as he mulled over the notion. Peach had never commanded him to dance. Though she’d presented it as an order of sorts, he did know she wouldn’t force him into it. It was merely a suggestion, one he was perfectly free to refuse.

…Just like his place as her guard, come to think of it.

“The motion for your appointment passed Parliament unanimously,” Peach told him that day, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes unable to select a focal point. “But please understand that you’re under no obligation to accept! It’s… unfair, asking so much of you, given how much you’ve already done. Those are my thoughts, anyway.”

Mario never intended to refuse the offer, but initially, he was apprehensive. He was plenty strong, and he had rescued her from abduction once already, and he would do everything in his power to help her. But how much power did he actually possess? Was it enough to keep her safe? Was it enough to live up to whatever expectations were laid upon him, not just by Peach, but by her government? By its people? “Bodyguard to a Princess” wasn’t a program his vocational school had offered.

But one good look at said Princess overrode his doubts. Her fingers drumming against her knuckles, the small smile she kept forcing into something more neutral, her gaze shifting between her gloved hands and the surrounding shrubbery and, eventually, Mario’s face— growing up with an autistic twin taught Mario to be extra attentive to nonverbal cues. Peach’s offer was every bit as much for her sake as it was for his and for her Parliament’s.

In her words, she expressed reluctance, but in her body language, she gave her true thoughts away. And in her eyes, sparkling turquoise in the morning sunlight, he found his answer.

Her eyes had sparkled just as brilliantly today, discussing a prospective dance with her dearest friend and devoted guard. He wouldn’t be the one to extinguish her spark.

You can’t always let your pride win.

What a silly thing to say to Super Mario, Hero of the Mushroom Kingdom, Bodyguard to its Princess. Of course his pride would always triumph. That was kind of his schtick, wasn’t it?

“Okay, enough internal monologuing.” The weight on Mario’s back was lifted, and Luigi’s hand relocated to his head, tousling his curls playfully. “You gonna talk this through with me? Or am I gonna have to drag it outta ya?”

Another rush of heat overtook him, but this time, there was no indignation. This was the heat of renewed purpose. Lifting his face, the warm lights of their living room filled Mario’s vision once more, and suddenly the empty floor before him called to him with a pull he refused to ignore.

His muscles protested as he stood, but he paid them no mind. Every obstacle could be conquered with enough determination. He’d fail as many times as he needed to so he could succeed, just once, just for her.

“Hey— external!” Luigi cried after him. “External monologue! Don’t leave me in the dark, bro!”

Mario grinned as he closed the gap between himself and the record player. “You’re right,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not gonna screw it up.”

The clack clack clack of block heels followed him once more. “And why’s that?”

“Because I haven’t let her down yet.” He pulled the first record his hands touched out of its case and set it into place. “And I’m not gonna start now!”

“And why’s that, huh?”

“Because…” A bright, jazzy instrumental filled the air, and Mario waved his hands with a flourish, grasping for words other than the ones Luigi was goading him to say. “Because I don’t know when to quit, I guess!”

“And why’s that? ”

“Stelle santo—”

He found Luigi waiting for him at the center of the room, his arms folded, his right hip jutting outward, his high-heeled left foot tapping in expectation. The smirk he fixed Mario with was far too devious for his liking.

“Well, if my beloved baby bro is any indication,” he shot back, mirroring Luigi’s folded-armed stance and meeting him where he stood, “then I guess being annoyingly hard-headed just runs in the family.”

Luigi’s smirk wavered. “Baby bro?”

Mario huffed, if only to keep his own mask from slipping. “I was already around when you were a baby. That counts.”

“You were a baby when I was a baby.”

“Well I still have twenty minutes on you, so at one point I was literally twenty times your age. Doesn’t get much more baby than that, yeah?”

Their competitive stares held strong a few seconds more, then they faltered, their make-believe tension powerless against the lively music. Both brothers clasped each other by the arms and chuckled, and just like that, Mario’s earlier angst was gone.

And these sorts of feelings he was all too happy to let himself feel.

“Thank you.” Mario pulled in closer to clasp Luigi’s shoulder. “For… being so stubborn.”

The corners of Luigi’s eyes crinkled as he mirrored the motion, clasping Mario’s opposite shoulder. “Guided brooding. That’s all it is.”

“And that’s all I need, I guess.” Mario soaked in the contentment a moment longer, then he let his arm fall to Luigi’s waist, releasing his opposite arm to take his hand. “C’mon. We’re losing moonlight.”

Luigi nodded firmly. “Way ahead of ya.”

Maybe Mario’s newfound drive didn’t grant him lighter feet or better coordination, but his heart felt so much lighter. He was able to laugh and joke with his brother when he made mistakes and celebrate each minor victory with sincerity. Nothing miraculous, maybe, but he could certainly work with it. And each time he fell out of sync, Luigi was right there to guide him back in.

“Uno! Due! Tre! Quattro! Uno! Due! Tre! Quattro! Uno! Due! Tre!”

[bill-y]

Is the arcana fandom still alive? I'm practically quaking in my boots wanting to publish a story about my half baked oc 😔☝️

[dashamanych]

Hey i am glad yall remember that Will, Wood and the Tapeworms show! Thank you for sharing your memories 🥴📺📼 I remember more about it now....

Ill keep researching just in case ill find something more about this cartoon!

[woolysocks]

i have famously seen very few movies and have been attempting to remedy this in recent months!! thus i could only think of 50 movies i really like 🙂‍↕️ know that i made this list partly as a memory exercise as my memory is quite poor ha ha ha

[mysticfemme]

one day I'm going to write a story about a butch knight and a femme princess and it will be medieval and it will be romantic and it will be everything I wanted as a teenager

[redrosydiaz]

really fucking sick and tired of people who really fucking love the eddie book jumping on people who don't like or are even remotely critical of it's posts and like crusading their opinions around from the top of their high horses and shoving it down our throats.

if you like the book, great! that's awesome! love that for you! i am genuinely glad that you were able to find good in it and enjoy it!!

but not everyone did, and not everyone is going to agree with you. so, instead of going on some grand crusade where you find every single post that includes anything even remotely negative or negative adjacent or even neutrally critical and spending ALL this time and effort trying to provide unwanted rebuttals to every single thing, maybe you should just stay in your lane and find people who DO like the book and chat about it with them.

because i can PROMISE YOU, none of us appreciate it when you come onto our posts and start accusing us of "hating on" the author or "being rude" about her and her work and RIDICULOUS shit like that.

being critical of something and pointing out it's flaws is NOT inherently hating on it. i, frankly, do not know where people got that notion, but it's not fucking true so can we fucking quit assuming it is? and, critiquing something is also NOT the same as saying this is shit and it sucks and the author is a piece of garbage. again, where the fuck that came from is beyond me. you can be critical of something and still enjoy it. as soooo many of you love to point out, it's not perfect, why should it be perfect? so D U H. of course that means criticism can and should arise???

also. hot take (by which i mean ice fucking cold because it's NOT a fucking hot take), but going around toting FALSE facts as part of your "defense" does not make you or your argument look good. you, like the author, should maybe do a basic fact check first. 🙃

tldr, if you like the book, that's genuinely great, but stay in your fucking lane and stop seeking out posts from people who didn't like it to start shit in the notes.

[wormgremlin]

Can I offer you a nice egg in this trying time?

The politics of poultry and eggflation

Boil 'em, crack 'em, stick 'em in a soup. Eggs are an American staple. Despite back and forth about cholesterol and animal ethics, demand for eggs hasn’t going anywhere.  At a few cents each, eggs have historically been one of the most affordable nutritious foods; now, they're nearly $1 apiece and rising -- if you can find them at all. How did we get here? And more importantly, how do we get back?

H.P.A.I. Four accursed letters that haunt every veterinarian and I would dare say most Americans. Avian Influenza (AI), or bird flu, causes issues ranging from respiratory disease and diarrhea to decreased egg production. Within AI, there are high and low pathogenic strains; of primary concern is the highly pathogenic avian influenza (HPAI) H5N1 strain, a form that spreads quickly, causing more severe illness and more deaths.  Despite having disease nationwide, HPAI is still considered a "Foreign Animal Disease," a government designation of a carefully monitored disease not regularly in the USA (ignoring backyard flocks).

In addition to killing birds and marine mammals as it has been doing for years, the recent concern with HPAI has been the new species affected: humans, cattle, and cats. People are becoming ill or even dying. Dairy cows have been miscarrying, dying, and losing milk production. Seemingly healthy cats are dropping dead.

Another epidemic making eggs expensive, it's 2020 all over again! Except unlike COVID, we already have answers. And this time, we’ve got our eyes on Big Egg. HPAI has been a problem for years. We have the tools to deal with it. Yet, we refuse to use them. As a Foreign Animal Disease, the federal government controls how HPAI outbreaks are handled, specifically the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA).

The USDA dictates that commercial flocks (more than 1,000 birds) that test positive for HPAI are culled. Culled. Depopulated. Notably, different from euthanasia. Every bird in the infected flock must be killed. Commonly using carbon dioxide foam or gas, suffocating the birds. While unsavory, mass depopulation has its place to protect other animals from contagious disease, especially when the infected animals have little chance of surviving.

Except that current knowledge suggests that mass depopulation may increase spread. Production is delayed by an overzealous requirement that houses remain vacant for 14 days despite virus no longer being contagious within 96 hours. HPAI causes death – but not 100% death. In fact, in healthy unvaccinated populations, as much as 25% the flock could survive, building immunity which culling prevents.

Unvaccinated populations, like every poultry flock in the entire country. Unvaccinated implies availability of a vaccine though. And there is! Just… not here. In much of Asia, HPAI is commonplace, as it is becoming in the USA. As such, some countries such as China vaccinate all commercial birds. And it works, bringing HPAI-related death as low as 3% and speeding recovery with up to 97% survival. What about us? The vaccine is not available for use within the United States. Chickens are food animals under the USDA, heavily restricting vaccine use. Understandably so! Not all vaccines are good – some are dangerous, some just don’t work. Except other countries have been using this vaccine for years, so we know it’s safe and effective.

The USDA has yet to approve it for two reasons: trade and surveillance. In allowing chickens to die, the USDA maintains trade partners – certain countries would ban import of American poultry products should HPAI vaccination be permitted. Additionally, the USDA claims that the high mortality allows more effective surveillance so we can stamp out disease quickly. A strategy based in culling, an inefficient method of control rife with animal welfare concerns, human stressors, and economic impact. Even with vaccination, death rates are at least 2x that of a flock without HPAI (3% versus 0.5-1.5% normal mortality). Of course, cows with HPAI are not mass depopulated, further calling into question poultry use of this “stamping out” strategy.

The current outbreak, even just in dairy cows, has been a problem for a year now, the first case reported in late March 2024. Everything thus far has been bipartisan, absent of administration-specific criticism. These are ongoing issues, present through several presidential administrations, all failing to successfully address HPAI. Which is not to say I lack administration specific criticisms regarding ongoing epidemic(s) – HPAI … tuberculosis, measles, Listeria... Prior to mass layoffs and NIH funding freezes, research in both cows and chickens were underway to reassess the vaccine and its place in our production systems. Despite the destruction DOGE wreaks in the name of deregulation to “streamline our government,” we have yet to see changes benefiting Americans. Reassessment of HPAI vaccine and mass depopulation protocols ought to be a priority. An effective human HPAI vaccine would minimize hospitalizations and death; instead, we are left wondering if we will even have a flu vaccine next season. As an administration entrenched in a “bread and circuses” mindset, the clowns are excelling at circuses in the form of human rights violations but have yet to make groceries more affordable, ostensibly the reason many Americans voted for them

[nemaliwrites]

happened upon this article today, and damn if it didn't get me thinking

i've wondered a lot before about how the same story can be told through different mediums [which primarily can be seen through adaptations] but one thing i don't spend enough time thinking about is how the same story can be told through different word counts

i know people always are like 'a story is as long as it needs to be' but...is it?

i've technically run this experiment a few years ago, with Regrowth at exactly 100 words and Reduce, Reuse, Regrow at over 6000. honestly, it was kind of a fascinating experiment because....are they the same story? really? i guess at their core, you could argue that the plot is the exact same. tldr: giorno turns drug dealers into flowers. and that happens in both versions.

but there is no character in the drabble version, for the OCs and others. we don't get a sense of who giorno is in this story and why he's doing this - all we have to go off of is who he is in canon. we have no idea who tf marco [is that his name? i'm not rereading that to find out LOL] is - versus in the longer version we know about his connection to his family, his botanical garden, the plants he grows, etc. we know about his crush on Sofia. we know that mista saves him, which means giorno thinks he's someone worthy of being saved.

same thing for the police - they don't even get names in the drabble, compared to the names and personalities they're awarded in the longer version.

so...are they the same story?

i've been wondering [and by been wondering i mean i literally thought of this like an hour ago hehe] about how that can apply to other things as well, and this article is a terrific starting point. if you write your longfic as a oneshot, you have to pare down everything that 'doesn't matter' - which i'm using loosely, because as we've established, there are things important to a story that aren't just plot events. but you get such a clear distinction: what are the subplots vs the main plot? who are the side characters vs the main characters? if you have multiple antagonists, who is the one who drives the story primarily? without whom the story cannot exist any longer?

i wonder too if this, in a way, can kind of call back to the snowflake method - which i admittedly have never used but can see how it would be helpful. if you start small, let's say you write your story as a drabble. double it, and double it again. a few more times, and you have something short story length. then novella length. then novel length.

it could also be a way to literally build your story up piece by piece. okay, so you need a couple thousand more words. sure, you could just add a bunch of fluff or 'filler' - or, you could add in a subplot. you could add in a character that is integral to the story. and if you go the other way - from novel to drabble - and can't write a short story without that character, then you know how important they are.

in this way, you can kind of pare everything down to its barest bones, actually. character motivations, stakes, setting.....everything is tied together, which means changing one changes them all.

maybe at some point, you literally get to a point where you can't add anything else - and maybe that's where the story is as long as it needs to be. vice versa, too.

i will run this experiment a few more times and report back o7

[fatuismooches]

Hii it's me, the anon who wants to eat your writings as desserts!

I've been thinking about something, specifically about Fragile!Reader. (Sorry if the bad English is bad)

During Dottore and Nahida's meeting, I like to imagine Nahida take a look inside Dottore's mind when he erased his segment. At first, she expected to see the horror and the unsettling mind of a mad doctor, a mind with nothing but ambition and insanity. How surprised she was when she saw you occupying most of the doctor's mind. How surprised Nahida would be to see that Dottore is capable of loving someone, especially someone so fragile as you are.

She probably commented on something about you and your relationship with the doctor to which the doctor almost instantly tried to change the topic with a lingering threat.

After everything that she saw, I wonder if Nahida would remember and keep the story about the Mad Doctor and his fragile beloved as a fairy tale. In my opinion, she would. And if she does, I wonder how she'll portray Fragile!Reader.

Ok that's it, my thoughts about Fragile!reader. Also can I be Dessert Anon? ><

YES!! I LIVE FOR DOTTORE AND READER VS NAHIDA INTERACTIONS!!

Nahida doesn't think she will ever understand the mind of the Outcast, nor she will ever agree with the way he works or thinks. He has long succumbed to the mind of a pure scientist, disregarding the value of human life if it will allow him to progress in his research. So, when the young God looks into the Harbinger's mind, she expects to see nothing different from that. But, even the God of Wisdom can be proven wrong, is something Nahida has come to understand, for although the Doctor's mind is certainly mad, he is also mad for you. That is certainly something she did not expect. She didn't even know you were still alive. So he's managed to prolong your life as well? But judging from what she's seen, you're still quite ill. Hm... the Dendro God is a mixture of surprise and intrigued. The Doctor is one who isn't above abandoning his experiments when they get boring or seem fruitless. And your case certainly seems hopeless, with no progress to be seen but... he still seems to be completely obsessed with you. It's strange, and a part of her understands and doesn't understand at the same time. Nahida knows that love can truly change people. But is the Doctor really one that could be changed? She finds it a bit hard to believe, but the evidence is right in front of her.

Of course, her curiosity cannot be contained and she has to inquire about you, to which Dottore blatantly disregards. He's not going to speak about you to almost anyone, much less a God. ("I didn't think the God of Wisdom would be so nosy about my private affairs.")

I imagine obviously she doesn't particularly like or approve of you, but Nahida still can't help but feel pity for you, with your illness and all. But she would still like to have a conversation with you. She would want to discover how you managed to have the Outcast wrapped around your finger... she would want to know your story... that is if you're willing to speak with her.

[bonefall]

the clans use salt for healing and cooking if i remember correctly. im only saying this because would someone ever name their kid "saltkit"

Yes! Saltkit is a valid prefix in BB, but only after moving to the Lake.

Before then, they make a sort-of-salt out of burning dandelion root. They consider this material a kind of soot, fine ashes produced by burning something. The rough translation of this spice is "soot-salty-taste."

Salty (taste) = Byyle (Comes from blood-taste)

Soot (ashes produced by finely burning something) = Keybo (Used alone in artsy contexts, usually describes bistre, a pigment made from soot and water.)

Plant Salt (of coltsfoot or dandelion) = Keybyy

To specify if it comes from Dandelion or Coltsfoot, you'd say Keybyy Raerra or Keybyy Hakprru. There aren't two dedicated words for the difference; these are both considered "types of dandelions" by Clan cats.

Dandelion = Awpo Any flowering ground plant with fluffy yellow petals.

This is why they didn't previously have a word for salt itself! They would only ever encounter raw salt as an animal lick, which they'd call Byylebon. Salty-useful-rock. Because it was associated with humans, they wouldn't steal them or interact with them much.

Rraash is a Townmew loanword, a word they adopted for raw, powdered salt during their time trading with BloodClan. At the Lake, they now collect raw sea salt during "Salt Patrols," which are beach trips where a big collection of apprentices are brought to the ocean to learn how to collect and process salt.

So, depending on how the parents would like to name their child, those translations could be;

Byylemew = Saltykit The taste of salt. Could refer to the flavor of blood, the taste of the ocean, or the spice made from burned dandelion roots. Has a very food-y connotation, probably named by gourmands.

Keybyymew = Saltkit, Spicekit, Seasoningkit, Rubkit This is a very ThunderClan sort of name. They traditionally used a lot of keybyy in their recipes, as it's very important for a good marinade and making ham. Though, it wouldn't be too surprising to see it used in WindClan too.

Rraashmew = Saltkit, Brinekit Raw salt. Made from boiling ocean water during large expeditions to the sea called a "Salt Patrol." Used as a medicine AND as a spice, important in controlling parasite infestations, fighting infection, and preserving food. Could just be referring to an off-white colored pelt, food, or even strength in battle for its association with treating wounds.

[mellifluousasmi5]

Gonna publish

Heyy so I haven't really posted here and neither do I really talk to anyone here but maybe I should give it a try and start my journey by sharing a good news which means that I am publishing. So yay! I will be publishing a poetry collection soon hopefully before mid february. it is so scary yet so exciting to think that I am going to be a published poet soon. and I have decided to self publish which is omg omg omg. everything on my own. it's scary but I wanna do it. if you're an author or poet feel free to drop me some advice.

[passengerseatsam]

got an incredibly solid chapter 1 drafted with no idea how to start chapter 2

[blackjackkent]

Slowly discovering the freeing power of the words "I know this is bad but I'll fix it in editing."