#concise communication

[corporateskills]

Clear, Concise, Compelling: The New Rules of Business Communication

Introduction

In today’s professional universe, efficacious communication is synonymous with the success of any business organization. Be it an email sent, a meeting convened, or the pitching of an idea, the focus is on conveying the messages appropriately for such situations. Digital technology has revolutionized the way information gets into the business world; consequently, the rules for good business communications have changed. Thus, the new standard would be based on three principles: Clear, Concise, and Compelling communication. And these are important in the very first place for cutting through the cacophonic messages to make your message heard and acted upon.

Clear Communication: The Foundation of Understanding

Clarity and clearness in their communication serve as the foundations of effective communication. Clear communication ensures that the audience has a message of your understanding and not misinterpretation. In business, ambiguity means a gulf of misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and missed opportunities. Clearing things up and making the message simple enough that anyone someone without experience, a colleague, or a client can easily get the idea.

for example, Say you introduce your team to the timing of a new project in a nutshell. Instead of making the technical roll-dive-in deep into it, which might put some off or confuse them, try something simple: “A new project has three milestones: research, development, and launch,” and that “to one, the above item is critical to achieving our target launch date.” If the big picture is laid out first and jargon avoided, everyone who is familiar with things specific and not will have a general idea of the scope of the project.

So, clarity is developing a logical flow within your message. Organized thought makes it easy for an audience to follow without getting lost. The simplest of all rules: short clear sentences, if complexity within language is necessary, then that is worn around a person’s neck like a chain of bondage.

Concise Communication: Time Is Precious

Brevity is not just an option in our fast-paced world; it is a necessity. Today, every business professional is besieged with emails, messages, and alerts. They do not have time to go through every word. A fast, effective channel to communicate your message is a sign of respect to your audience, which will probably increase the chance of reading and acting on your communication.

For example, if you were sending an email to a colleague requesting a report, instead of writing a long email making several points, cut it to the most wanted item: “Hi [Name], can you send me the Q2 sales report by 3 PM today? Thanks!” Because you get right to the point, it helps remove redundant information that such a person would have had to wade through in a wordy message.

Conciseness does not mean omitting information, but rather getting rid of superfluous material. When giving a project update at a meeting, avoid meandering into ancillary topics. Rather, structure the update around the most critical issues: progress, challenges, and next steps. Save time, and your audience is bound to remain focused.

Here’s a quick tip: cut out filler words such as “just,” “basically,” or “I think” that don’t add to what you’re trying to say.

Compelling Communication: Engaging and Inspiring Action

Clarity and conciseness are important, but no elements of persuasion would engage or inspire action in such cases. Compelling communication is a resonation with an audience, evoking emotion, and inducing him or her to act. It has to reach the part where the team speaks to or where clients receive calls just as well as where stakeholders address them.

A manager may invite employees to hear the announcement of a new initiative within the company. Instead of dryly presenting all the benefits, the manager might give a vision of the future: “Envision a reality where we have achieved a reduction of 50% in customer response time. That’s less frustration for our clients and a competitive edge for us. If we make this new process happen, we can turn that world into a reality.” This way, it doesn’t only inform employees about yet another process but also motivates them with a lively portrayal of success and the related benefits.

A powerful statement is also emotionally connectable. And when we say business decisions get driven by facts and figures, it is actually their emotional appeal that makes them significant for the individual. It’s not about feeding data; it’s about telling a story in line with your audience’s values and aspirations to influence them. Rather than listing its features, explain what it solves for a consumer when introducing the product.

In every business interaction, consider: What action do I want the recipient to take? Ensure the message drives that action, whether scheduling a meeting, approving a proposal, or buying into your vision.

The Role of Digital Tools in Business Communication

Conciseness is important for messaging apps such as Slack; users are looking for straight-to-the-point messages. Avoid long paragraphs; write down bullet points or short sentences to convey what you wish to say. Compelling becomes the critical component for social media; there are only a few seconds when you have the opportunity to grab someone’s attention. A well-thought-out post tied together with clarity and a story or call to action is likely to bring significant engagement.

When meeting online, you have to communicate clearly because, without body language to lean on, you need to make sure that your words can convey the most precise message possible and hold enough interest that your audience remains glued to the listening process. Interrupting the meeting would keep anyone engaged with dynamic and focused alternates through questions or by involving different team members.

Navigating Communication Pitfalls

Despite the greatest efforts put forth by parties involved in modern-day communication, there are several times when phenomena fail in the management of such high expectations. One of the biggest barricades to cross in the contemporary world is information overload. People are ceaselessly confronted with huge heaps of information which might cause them not to be up to the understanding level or conversely disengagement. Different communication modes have their measure of such hurdles. While email miscommunications lean towards differing interpretations of the own moods reflected in one in an inbox, some degree of distraction can be discerned from video meetings.

Tending to use too much jargon is perhaps considered a pitfall in oral and written business communication. It’s not that it makes you look professional; it only ensures that your audience quickly turns a hostile face to you. A better way of saying this would be: “Because of budget limitations, we need to change our plans.” It makes the message easier to determine and hence less likely to be misinterpreted.

And then of course the lack of empathy in this digital communication, which seems very much like this impersonal condition, always makes it easier to appear cold and sometimes curt, which can hurt interpersonal relationships. Therefore, always keep the tone of the message in mind: “Hi” and “Thank you for your time” In the end go a long way down the road to developing more positive communication.

Conclusion

Mastering the Art of Business Communication

Clear: Use simple, straightforward language that your audience can follow comfortably. Do not jargon unless really necessary; define any technical terms upfront.

Be Concise: Keep messages short but to the point. Keep the heart of the message and drop all irrelevant additions.

Be Compelling: Message your audience with good stories, arousing their emotions and also giving them a line of action to complete. Every communication should echo in hearts to inspire an action.

These three-Mastering Clear, Concise, and Compelling

Business Communication indeed achieve in making you an effective communicator and great leader. In gem time, short span attention, stiff rules like these could change and dare thereby improve communications with team, clients, and stakeholders.

[phoenicianhomecare]

The global landscape is undergoing a significant transformation – our population is aging at an accelerated rate. This necessitates a corresponding growth in qualified individuals dedicated to providing home care services.

[gigivas]

Layla Boustani: Majestic Gaze, A Lady's Ethnic Enigma

Stable Diffusion series

POSITIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following) Charcoal and graphite artistically portray a Lebanese-style young woman, exuding vintage waves hairstyle, enveloped in a silk blouse adorned with ethnocultural embroidery, wielding a bold and direct stare, maintaining a head straight with a powerful stance, and intensely engaging another in this arresting head profile portrait shot. Meticulously shaded, unveiling intricate facial expressions, preserving a minimalistic yet expressive aura, centering on the eyes, embracing a monochromatic theme, and accentuating tender contours, all as a testament to her formidable character and emotions.

NEGATIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following) full body shot, modern, light, vibrant, colorful, simplistic, minimalism, plain, simple, bokeh, blurry, blur, emotionless, boring, worst quality, low quality, normal quality, lowres, low details, oversaturated, undersaturated, overexposed, underexposed, grayscale, bw, bad photo, bad photography, bad art, watermark, signature, text font, username, error, logo, words, letters, digits, autograph, trademark, name, grainy, ugly, asymmetrical, poorly lit, bad shadow, draft, cropped, out of frame, cut off, censored, jpeg artifacts, out of focus, glitch, duplicate, nsfw, deformed, noisy, blurry, distorted, low contrast, dull, plain, modest, cleavage, asymmetrical eyes, signature, watermark, text, word, logo

(Note: Positive and negative prompts can instantly make you an AI drawing expert. Applicable to almost all AI drawing platforms and software that support input of positive and negative prompts. For example, all Stable Diffusion platforms, DreamStudio.ai, Craiyon.com, Leonardo.ai, etc.)

Midjourney v6 (Copy the following) /imagine prompt: In this captivating charcoal and graphite portrait, a young Lebanese woman is depicted with a vintage waves hairstyle, beautifully attired in a silk blouse adorned with traditional embroidery. Her bold and direct stare conveys her strength and determination, as her head remains erect with a powerful posture, her gaze locked onto an unseen observer. The portrait skillfully showcases delicate shading and intricate facial expressions, effectively communicating her emotional depth. Adopting a minimalistic yet expressive style, it emphasizes her commanding eyes set against a monochromatic backdrop and subtle contours, capturing her individuality and emotions. The soft, ambient lighting fosters a reflective ambiance, elevating the introspective mood of this close-up composition, masterfully encapsulating her upright and intense demeanor., --ar 2:3 --v 6

(Note: At https://docs.midjourney.com/docs/parameter-list, you will learn the details of how to personalize Midjourney parameters, but for now we have configured them for you.)

DALL-E 3 (Copy the following) This impressive portrait features a young Lebanese woman sporting a chic vintage waves hairstyle and a silk blouse with traditional embroidery. Her captivating, direct gaze conveys strength and confidence while standing tall and firm. The portrait recalls charcoal and graphite masterpieces through delicate shading and expressive facial details, focusing on her striking eyes against a monochromatic background. The soft contours of her face reflect her character and emotions. The ambient lighting embraces an introspective mood, inviting viewers to engage intimately with her magnetic close-up view.

(Note: Prompts for OpenAI DALL-E 3 also apply to any AI drawing platform that does not require entering negative prompt words, such as Microsoft Copilot Designer, Adobe Firefly, Canva.com, etc.)

[queenlucythevaliant]

Just to clarify my thoughts (since I've had a number of people ask me about it) re: Job and cursing God. There's a big difference between cursing God as used in Scripture and how we generally would think of cursing at God today.

Cursing someone, in the Bible, has a lot of depth to it. It's not just saying "screw you " in anger, it's got a sense of forsakenness to it. It's the opposite of a blessing, a removal of blessing. If the blessing is presence, your face shining on the person you're blessing, then a curse is absence. In some translations, Job's wife tells him to "renounce God and die," which I honestly think makes a lot more sense to modern ears.

Job says a lot of unpleasant things to and about God in his anger and grief. So do the Psalmists. A number of the Prophets. So can we. God can take it if we come to him with honest expressions of our emotion, including those not-so-nice ones directed at him. I don't think there's anything wrong with getting mad at God and saying, "How dare you, you bastard" when you suffer unjustly. You can say much worse, I think, without sinning, though I don't feel particularly inclined to give examples. But as long as it's an honest expression of your heart, I think you're doing exactly what prayer is for. You're presenting him your heart with an open hand. He can use that. Opposite of love is not hate but indifference, etc.

Job doesn't renounce God. Neither should we. But I think when you're truly suffering, you're gonna have those feelings toward God either way. He'd rather you address them with him directly than try to avoid them. Cursing at God in the modern sense is actually a great way to keep the relationship strong and not end up cursing/renouncing him in the Biblical sense.

[one-eternal-sigh]

gonna ramble about messy marylene because it’s been lying in my drafts and I’m bored

[good-beanswrites]

john x fuuta ?👉👈 or 090309

I love the dynamic between them all, thank you for the request! I went with an earlier meeting for them (well, one of the first times Fuuta's aware of speaking with John, at least). As much as I joke about Fuuta being starstruck by his strength in the attack, I tried to take a more serious route for the "something to rely on" vibe.

John’s eyes flicked over Fuuta, sprawled out on his bedding and looking up expectantly.

“Man, you look like shit.”

Fuuta scowled deeper. “I asked for the reason you’re here in the middle of the fucking night, not your opinion.”

“That is the reason I came.”

Somehow, amid all the other things he had to worry about given the horror of the past few days and exile that followed, Mikoto had still found the time to lose sleep over Fuuta’s condition. John had always liked the guy, but he wasn’t in the business of watching over people he didn’t truly care about. He didn’t know what Mikoto saw in him to cause such an overreaction.

Though, with the futon dragged to the bars of the cell, and bathing him in the dim light of the guard’s tower, it was becoming clear that Mikoto’s concern was indeed warranted. Fuuta appeared deathly. The fresh injuries had been bandaged, but there were stains where blood was beginning to seep through. His eye – the one that had survived the ordeal – was bloodshot and rimmed with dark bags. His hair was as tangled as the rumpled hoodie it poked out of.

Fuuta was still staring in anticipation. It took John a moment to understand why. 

“You recognize me.”

“No shit. Mikoto came in here like a fumbling idiot earlier today. He wanted to make sure I was okay or whatever. Like I’d be okay after what happened!” He paused, a clanging from someone else’s cell briefly distracting him. “But you… the way you carry yourself… it’s different.”

“Not that different. I’m here for the same reason.”

The plan was simple. Once Fuuta slept, Mikoto would relax, and everyone would be happy. If it turned out to be his injuries keeping him awake, John didn’t mind crushing Fuuta’s pride and explaining his weakness to the doctor to get more painkillers. If it was noisy neighbors, he’d teach one of those girls a lesson the following day. If the problem was just plain insomnia, well, John’s swinging arm was still completely functional...

“I just want to make sure you’re sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me you’re as disgustingly sentimental as him.”

John’s expression twitched. He didn’t appreciate the condescension. That was Mikoto’s most admirable trait, after all – offering help to others even when he was falling apart himself. He was so selfless, so self-sacrificial. It was no wonder John felt compelled to do the same for him. But Fuuta…

“Ugh, he’s always trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone around here, it makes me sick. Nice words don’t do shit. Look where his friendship with Kotoko got him, eh? That’s what these fools still don’t understand – you need to face these things head-on.”

“Oi, don’t be hard on me just for caring.” He didn’t say it as any sort of gentle encouragement; it was a command, and Fuuta understood. He snapped his attention away from where he’d been peering around the bars. “The world needs more people with that kindness. That optimistic view of life, of others, no matter what – it’s why I’ll do everything I can to save me.”

Silence stretched after the intense comment. Fuuta was looking away again, and John couldn’t read him. When he did speak, his voice came out more defeated than expected.

“Tch. Well. Not all of us have that luxury.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

His eyebrows raised.

Cheeks reddening, Fuuta hurried to add, “I mean someone to have your back like that. I wish I could be half as relaxed as that, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. I need to be strong myself, I don’t have anyone else to take care of my problems for me.”

It hit him suddenly, that everything came down to that. Relief washed over him, now that a clear, easy, (and nonviolent) solution had presented itself.

“What if you did? I could take over your little sentry duty for the night.”

“W-what do you –?”

He gestured to where Fuuta was laying. “No need to play dumb. You’ve been keeping an eye on everything, even the other side of the guard’s tower. The sounds from around cell eight have caught your attention. You’re positioned so you can see cell six, but haven’t moved all the way over, because cell ten has easiest access from the right.”

“The others would say it’s pointless, or that they’re handling it. I’m not buying it, though. I don’t care if they say it’s crazy of me to do.”

“I think…” John’s posture softened. “I think it’s very selfless of you.”

He was constantly amazed at Fuuta’s tendency to react to everything as if it were some world-shattering statement just told to him.

“So?” He prodded before Fuuta’s expression could grow any more wide-eyed. “How about it?”

 “I mean… they told me about the attacks… what you did…”

John set his jaw. No matter how many times it had happened in the past few days, it still stung to see how quickly people turned against him because of the fight. He thought they all had come to terms with each other’s capabilities for violence, but as usual, the moment he showed his true face, the world turned against him.

Of course Fuuta could never relax knowing such a violent and unpredictable person was sitting right beside him through the night. It was a miracle he hadn’t panicked immediately at the sight of yet another cold, towering figure appearing at his door in the middle of the night.

John stretched his right arm across his chest. It looked like his original solution still stood. Fuuta said problems should be faced head-on. Surely he’d understand this was for his own good.

“…Yeah, okay.” Fuuta gave a decisive nod. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “I trust you.”

“I –” John blinked. “What?”

“You understand me. You understand what it takes to be in a place like this.” His gaze flit away momentarily. “You’re incredibly strong. You’re prepared, and have good instincts, and your confidence is –" Noticing how intently John was listening, he interrupted himself to bark, “but don’t think I couldn’t handle this on my own! It’s only because you offered, and it’s a smart move. I’ll just sleep for a bit, we can take shifts. Wake me in three hours, okay?”

“Fine by me.” A little lying was definitely better than what else he’d had in mind.

Fuuta moved his futon over a few feet so John could settle into his carefully chosen spot on the ground. Everything was all set to begin keeping watch, until a new sound rose up to drown out the other noises in the panopticon – soft snoring from beside him.

He glanced over in disbelief at the instantaneous security Fuuta had sunk into. All the tension had melted away from his face and shoulders. He lay completely at peace.

John had achieved his goal. He should be celebrating. Instead, he couldn’t help heaving a heavy sigh.

How did he end up with two self-destructive idiots to watch over?

[sprout-gt]

In Plain Sight - Chapter One

here it is folks! the start of the journey. i have had so much fun drafting this chapter, and hope you enjoy reading it!

Word count: 3958

CW: Adult language

Myth knew the route, he understood it. 

This well practiced tread was practically second nature to him. Gently palming the wall to feel for the familiar symbols long ago scratched into the soft wood within the walls, the borrower shuffled forward assuredly. 

The cramped, pressing space between walls he so often navigated provided a keen sense of belonging. He could probably find his way through most routes with his eyes closed. Hell, without the soft glow of a lit match or belt lamp he might as well be blindfolded. He could barely see an inch in front of him. And yet, each footfall was placed with complete certainty. 

The dark did not disquiet him, nor was it ever a challenge. Darkness was safe, shielding.The inability to make out anything in front of you was a blessing. It meant that you were also hidden from sight. Visibility meant guaranteed danger, staying out of sight meant safety. It was a simple principle. 

Myth raced through the corridors carved throughout the walls, relying only on the long ingrained paths etched into his memory to guide him forward. However, instead of the nearly blasé confidence that he usually assumed on runs, Myth navigated the tight corridors of the walls with an air of quiet desperation. 

The stockade had been raided last week. It was still unclear what caused it, provisions and supplies being there one moment and gone within the next routine inventory hours later. The wards had been diligently dealing with rats for ages now, but it was extremely unusual for any to get that far within the borrower’s well-guarded territory. There had been no sightings of any intruding borrowers or suggestion of foul play. And yet, the once cramped shelves of their stockade were now nearly empty. 

No matter the reason, the sudden, sharp decrease in supply and encroaching panic of the community over rationing what was left meant that expeditions beyond the walls were assigned with a concerning frequency. Some younger borrowers had assumed this was their chance to prove themselves and were clambering to volunteer themselves, but Myth was quick to shut that idea down. The hefty responsibility to train new runners fell to him as the main, and he had neither the time nor patience to do so now. 

With his sister unable to assist on any runs, the brunt of the recent work was delegated to him. He felt like he hardly had a chance to breathe between runs before Dasha was assigning him another. Sure, there were others that would occasionally accompany him, but Myth by far had the most experience. Myth was always happier to work alone anyway. No chance to get slowed down that way. No unnecessary risks. 

This was his fifth run of the week, and as he dashed through the empty spaces in the walls, he could feel the fatigue begin to set in as a dull ache within his muscles. His legs protested against the long distances he traveled, his arms stung with every inch scaled upwards. He shoved down the increasing tiredness that ebbed through him, and kept moving. He could sleep when the community was secure. 

He had felt Kara’s knifepoint jealousy as he was assigned yet another run this morning, and he had to bite back a comment about loving to switch places with her. Sitting safely within the walls while recovering from a minor injury sounded far preferable to these relentless assignments. 

There was a small, inextricable twinge of tired envy within him towards all of the safe, manageable roles delegated to the others as he threw himself outside of the walls again and again. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. 

Despite the constant string of complaints he has let ramble in his thoughts, he understood the severity of the situation, and knew he had a role in fixing it. 

As his hand brushed a carved crescent shaped divot in the wood, he stilled. This was it. Myth knocked against the wall twice for good luck, a small practice he had started on his first few runs that had long since become habit. Taking a long and weary breath in, Myth pulled down his bottle-cap mask and stepped beyond the cherished security of the walls. 

Myth utterly hated being in the open. Open meant visible, exposed, and there was always limited directionality for quick-needed escapes. The weaving route he used opened from a crack in the aging tile work into a vast kitchen area. Although it did not provide nearly enough cover as some of the other route entrances closer to the floors, it was optimal for gathering quickly, since it was positioned right next to containers of both non-perishable and fresh food. Supply runs would rarely ever pass through the kitchen, but provisions would rarely be found through the safer, less open route entrances. 

They were meticulous in scheduling runs, and midday seemed to be consistent in human vacancy. Night may provide more cover of darkness, but it was nearly guaranteed the humans would be roaming for hours, morning the same. What in the wall's name they were doing in that time was beyond Myth, but he spent very little time caring about the erratic behavior of humans- just staying out of their line of sight. 

Myth cautiously stepped onto the smooth surface of the marble countertop, after ensuring the room was empty. Glancing around his surroundings, he huffed with agitation as he scoped the area and immediately noted that the humans hadn’t yet replenished their own supplies, meaning he was left to scrounge in their diminished scraps. Again. Myth ran a tired hand through his hair as he weighed his limited options.

What this really meant was that this run was a whole bunch of expended energy and time with very little return. Myth knew that any borrower worth their salt would never return empty handed from a run, no matter how barren the surroundings may be. That would signal your inadequacy, and highly disrespect Dasha’s authority. And so, Myth trudged forward. 

Upon the vast counter was a nearly empty fruit bowl that towered over him, and a plastic container holding the crumbled remains of some unidentified dessert. Chewing on his lip, Myth glanced back and forth between them, as if his contemplation would magically spawn more provisions to bring back. An unfortunately unsuccessful strategy. Myth stepped towards the tall bowl, craning his neck up to the lip as he unhooked his makeshift grapple off his belt. Giving it a few swings to pick up momentum, he confidently arced the hook towards the lip. 

Catching his hook on the glass bowl, Myth gave a careful tug to ensure the twine affixed to the thin metal could be pulled taught. The hook held, although the slight creak of the rope while being pulled concerned him slightly. He would probably have to replace it when he got back. 

Ensuring it was secure, he began to ascend, wincing at the dull pain that bloomed through his upper body as he tugged his weight upwards. He pushed himself up to sit on the lip of the bowl, resulting in a sharper stab of fatigue buried in his arms. Removing the twisted metal hook, Myth reverses the grip, before belaying down to the flat bottom of the bowl and surveying his options.

There were a few discarded grapes, the skins of which had turned slightly brown and started to sag with overripeness, along with their now empty stems. Myth rolled his eyes and approached. He crouched down on his haunches and observed a few grapes that were still perfectly usable.  

Humans always seemed to disregard any amount of food that was past its absolute prime quality. The rejection of slightly worsened food was an unbelievable privilege to Myth. One that he had never been extended. Through his many assignments, he had learned that there was very little past the walls unworthy of using. They would need to ration these out within the next day or two, but that was still substantial. He scooped the fruit into his pack.

Once he had made his way back over the wall of the bowl and dropped down onto the counter with a huff, Myth approached the plastic container. It wasn’t much, a few crumbs and larger chunks of some kind of cake. Not very nutritious,but he had never been in the position to be picky. 

He wedged one tip of his hook between the layers of plastic so he had room to force them apart with a resonant pop. Myth winced at the sound, knowing full well he was alone but unable to shake the feeling he was about to be found hunched over and shoveling pieces of dessert into his pack. He moved faster, beginning to have that uncanny, unshakable feeling of being watched creep into him. 

Once Myth had filled his pack with as much as he feasibly could, he slammed the layers of plastic together, having to push down hard to click them back together. He quickly turned on his heel and hurried back to the insignificant split in the even tile lining the countertop. 

Pressing his bag through the opening with a push, Myth shoved himself in as well, leaning his back against the rigid wall next to the crack in order to catch his breath. As soon as he was past the barrier separating the gigantic scale of human spaces and tucked back into the security of the walls, his mind eased considerably. 

The borrower shouldered his now full pack, and turned down the long path back to the community, breathing easier under the cover of sheltered darkness. 

Others have said to him, during the common practice of recounting harrowing tales under the soft glow of wick-light, that the thrill of doing runs made them worth the risk, the adrenaline of close calls the best part of being assigned runs. Myth had nodded along in placid agreement, although he could not agree less. 

The thing Myth really loved about doing runs was the blissful solitude that traversing the routes provided. Simply, the silence of being in between the borrowing world and the human one. 

Borrowing life was as hectic as it was interconnected. Everyone was pressed so close, you didn’t have the space to breathe. In the heart of the walls, there was hardly any moment to reflect or exist in solitude. Here, slipping between the winding corridors, Myth was allowed to savor the isolation, if only for a short time. 

It was in these prized moments that Myth allowed his mind to wander past routine, past assignments and roles and into the abstract. He bounded between worries and excitements, potentials and anticipations. It passed the time deliciously. Gave him a needed distraction as he traversed the darkness.

But as he approached the central chamber of the walls, Myth could hear the stark silence of the route slowly be ebbed away with the present, bustling sounds of the community, the darkness slowly fading as he approached. His time with the personal came to a close, making way for the needs of his community. Myth entered the central chamber, exiting the cramped route entrance into the spacious room dotted with other entrances to routes, as well as corridors snaking further into community territory. . 

Tess, drowsily resting her head on her hand, snapped up immediately when she spotted Myth approaching, and waved him over as he walked in. He understood her excitement. Inventory was a slow and monotonous assignment. 

Casting a glance at the large wrist watch face affixed to the far wall, he noted that he returned several minutes later than he expected. He felt a pang of irritation at himself for getting increasingly slower. His legs ached in angry retort. He needed to lie down. 

He met the younger borrower in the center of the chamber and unloaded his meager spoils from the run onto the makeshift surface she stood behind. Tess made an obvious face.

“That… isn’t a lot.” Tess stated obviously, casting a dubious glance downward. 

“That is what was there.” Myth responded. As if he could control when the humans decided they were tired of their lack of provisions. That would certainly make his life easier.  

Tess sighed, and pulled a large scrap of paper from the pile beside her, marking the date and quality of the different food items with a pencil stub, leaving a patch of lead residue on her hand. “I’ll alert Dasha and sort this into inventory. In the meantime, would you please go lie down. You look like you’re about to collapse.” 

Myth laughed dryly, “Feel like it too. Thanks for telling me it’s obvious.” A slightly awkward beat passed between the borrowers. 

Tess shifted her weight from foot to foot, seeming to consider something weighty before asking, “Are you okay Myth? I mean… with all these assignments…” Her tone was light, quiet, as if asking his opinion was in violation of some kind of rule. 

Myth shrugged his empty pack onto his shoulder, and simply stated “Why wouldn’t I be?”, as he promptly turned on his heel, striding away from Tess and her deepinging expression of pity. 

Making his way towards the opposite wall, Myth entered the corridor to the community quarters, following the long path down to his and Kara’s space. He could hear conversation loud and quiet past the curtained barriers, but was uninterested in participating in any conversation, save for the one between him and sleep. 

Stepping through the curtain of scrap fabric of his quarter, Myth shrugged off his now much lighter pack and tossed his mask to the side of the room, nodding to his sister sitting at the far table. He stretched out as much as his muscles let him, enjoying the aching feeling for a few moments. He figured he should probably greet her before shuffling to his own space. 

Myth joined Kara at their makeshift table, slouching down on the cork across from her as she whittled away at her prized spear. Too tired to greet her, he slumped forward, resting his head on his arms and letting out a much needed groan. 

“So, did the savior of the community gather a fruitful bounty today?” Kara asked, eyes trained on the edge of the glass she was using to sharpen the stone. The question was tinged with bitterness. Kara wasn’t one for hiding what she meant in any situation.

Myth let out a beleaguered sigh and responded without looking up. “Not enough, but there wasn’t enough to get. Bastards hadn’t replenished yet.” Slumped over like this, he could feel how much his back hurt. 

“Sounds like you went all the way out there for nothing. Maybe they should have sent someone else. Would have made the run less lonely anyway.” The edge to her tone was clear. This wasn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and Myth knew it wouldn’t be the last. He was getting pretty tired of having it though. 

“I was perfectly fine on my own thanks.” Myth responded pointedly. 

“I would have gotten back here faster. Have you noticed what time it is?” 

Myth scrunched his eyes, annoyed that she knew he would have taken consideration of his increasing slowness. The comment stung slightly. 

Myth raised his head and regarded his sister tiredly. “Kara, it’s not my fault that you weren’t careful.” She sucked in a breath. 

Myth had noticed that, since she’d been recovering from her hurt ankle, Kara had been diligently attentive to her gear. It was clear to everyone she was desperate to get back out there. Myth really did regret not having her presence. She was skilled and effective on runs. Maybe even more than he was, and they both knew it. 

Kara responded with nothing but a punctuated swipe of her knife and a sour frown. He knew he wasn’t being fair, and was about to apologize before she interrupted the silence with, “What even is this, your fourth run this week?”

“Fifth.” Myth responded wearily, sitting up straighter. He really needed to get some rest.  

“Of course. Why not? You alone are going to fix this mess for us. Maybe we’ll throw you a party! Get Cade to plan it, he’d drop everything.”

Myth was about to retort how much he would prefer someone else to do his job for him, but considering how bitter Kara was about being stuck within the walls, he bit it back, and took in a slow breath.

“As much as your doubt inspires me, I’m fully capable of handling this.” Myth responded, trying to keep his voice level. 

Kara slammed the glass point down with a hard smack against the table’s surface, causing Myth to jolt in surprise. “You’re tired is what you are, and that means you’re getting sloppy. Sooner or later that means you’re going to fuck up. And then where would we be Myth?” Kara regarded him with intensity. 

Several moments of tension-singed silence stretched between them. 

Myth tried not to escalate anything when he responded, “Dasha knows what she’s doing.”

“Dasha is scared and making stupid decisions. We have plenty of other people wanting to do runs, wanting to help.” Kara retorted with exasperation, crossing her arms tightly.

“Wanting is not the same as being ready.” Myth firmly insisted, not really wanting to push things further but feeling the stubborn urge to defend himself. 

Kara scoffed in agitation, but he continued. “I am not going to be responsible for anyone getting hurt or caught. They’re untrained, and they’re agitated. That makes people sloppy.”

“They’re eager, and there’s a difference. You won’t even talk to them Myth! Maybe if you gave some of the people here half a chance you wouldn’t have to risk yourself over and over!” 

“I’m doing my job.” Now it was his turn to cross his arms in mild defiance and stare daggers across the table. 

Kara let out a wild laugh, “Of course you are! You’d probably throw yourself in front of a human if Dasha asked-” The thought made his heart rate spike. 

“That is not fucking fair Kara.” Myth’s voice finally raised sharply. He pushed back against the table and scrambled to his feet. He felt agitation cascade through him. Towards Kara, towards Dasha, towards himself. And he was far too tired to do anything about it. 

Kara stood in a feverish instant, leaning all her weight on her good ankle and slamming her hands down on the table. “Since when have you given a shit about fair? Nothing about this has been fair!”, waving one arm out wildly. 

Myth was about to shout back that she was acting like a child, but turned his head backwards when he realized Kara's eyes snapped to something over his shoulder. Tess was standing in the doorway, pushing back the curtain extremely rigidly, eyes equally apologetic and uncomfortable. 

The energy in the room instantly chilled to an awkward coolness. Myth was extremely embarrassed that someone caught one of their regular arguments, and he felt his face get hot as he turned to Tess. Now that the fight had crashed to a stop, Myth felt like he had been zapped of any strength he was still holding on to.  

“Hey Tess.” Myth said quietly, looking downward, unwilling to regard either woman due to the growing sense of shame settling into his chest. He knew he wasn’t angry at Kara, and she wasn’t angry with him, not really. The cramped anxiety that had descended upon the community had been slowly escalating their own unpleasant feelings. The closest thing to take them out on was each other. He knew Tess wouldn’t understand this. 

“Uh… sorry- I didn’t… I mean… Myth, Dasha wants to see you, like, now. Sorry. I’m gonna-” Myth heard Tess turn and sprint away from the curtained doorway. What a day. 

“I better see what she wants.”, even though he most certainly knew what she did. Myth looked towards Kara for her response, but she had sat back down and was now trained on her blade, lips pulled in a tight, straight line. Myth turned away silently. 

Presence with Dasha rarely resulted without a delegated assignment, but Myth internally begged to not be handed another run. He knew that his last one was disappointing, but he was so tired. 

Myth found her in the provision inventory, a carved out hallway stuffed with ledges and makeshift shelves. Dasha was inspecting one of the grapes he had brought in, holding it up with one hand. Her face was still turned away from him, inscrutable. 

He felt a stab of embarrassment at how little he brought back, and desperately wanted to explain himself.

 “Dasha, I-”. She held up a hand, and he immediately halted. 

“Myth, I know this last week has been difficult. Trust me, know one has felt it harder than I have. But you understand that this amount from a run is unacceptable in our present circumstances.” 

His cheeks burned hot. “I’m sorry. This really was the best I could do, the humans hadn’t replenished yet.” 

Dasha wearily raked a hand through the length of her hair, and let in a sharp inhale. 

“I figured. I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair of me.” Dasha put the fruit down and regarded him sympathetically. “You have been doing so much great work for the community, and I know it has not been easy.” Myth could feel she was priming him for something he didn’t want to hear. 

“But I am growing worried that I have been over-relying on your skills. And your sister has been… insistent that I consider alternative runners in her absence,” she took in a breath, “so I am assigning you to train an eligible member to assist you on runs-” His stomach dropped, hard.

“No!” The objection was out before he could stop himself, he quickly tried to recover, “Dasha please, I can do this alone, really.” 

Dasha didn’t seem offended by the outburst, her expression almost pitiful. It made him want to scream. Why did nobody trust that he could handle this? 

“I’m sure you can, but my mind has been made up. If you got injured after all these runs-” she closed her eyes, “I would never forgive myself.”

“Dasha please-” He knew he sounded pathetic, but he didn’t care. 

Dasha firmly interrupted, “You get to choose who it will be, and it's just until Kara recovers and they are trained. I have full faith in you.” She smiled at him warmly, but he could see it was useless to argue. 

He briefly thought back to the comment Kara had made during their argument. He knew she was right. 

“You’re dismissed, get some rest. Tomorrow, please report who you have chosen and we can work out a plan,” she stepped towards him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek before saying, “Thank you Myth.” 

Dasha stepped away and out of the stockade, leaving Myth with a growing thorn of apprehension in his gut. He stood there rigidly for a few moments, before turning and making his way back to his quarters- wishing for his day to just be over already.

Upon returning to his quarters, guilt sat in his stomach like a sharp stone. As he passed by the curtain separating him from Kara’s space, he paused, placing a hand on the wood next to the doorway and leaning his forehead against it..

“I’m sorry.” He spoke to the curtain mutedly.

“I know.” Kara responded from within, equally hushed. And that was it. 

Myth turned to finally, finally crash headlong into the escape of sleep, and as he shuffled toward his own sleeping area, he heard Kara mutter something quietly, although he couldn’t quite make it out. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[softerhaze]

random outtakes that make me feel some type of way 💌

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Once I'm done with the prompts list, the next thing I need to do is provide more information about the event, including a Q&A/FAQ post. This is now open for input from any of you!

If you have any questions or suggestions for clarification, send them in! While this is open I'll be assuming of lot of things coming in will just be for the Q&A post, so please clarify if you want your question answered directly/right away.

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

will never not love referring to discussions as "good faith"/"bad faith". like earnestness in communication is just something we should all be considering more but also it really is about faith. you cannot prove or disprove the amount of trust someone puts into the next thing you say. to me, that is the faith. i mean all of it when i say conversations are my religion; the god to whom i play asymptote is called common ground.

[rhyaxxyn]

writeblr resurrection (mind the gap, i'm still filling the grave back in)

about rhyaxxyn…

❂ my name is rhyannyn (ree--uh--nihn), but i go by rhys or rhyn

❂ she/her

❂ 21. last time i was here, i was totally 19 (maybe?)--and now I can do adult things??

❂ infp/infj - t  |   leo sun... i don't know what that means anymore, but i am ambitious to an awful extent, and creative to the point i feel like i'm dragging ideas around by their throats 24/7

❂ of native american and polish ethnicity. unfortunately i didn't grow up very connected to my native american culture so i don't claim it in my books though i do include aspects here and there (just little things i remember my dad telling me as a kid), but a lot of my polish heritage shines through in my writing.

❂ i work customer service and it drains me--but i love all my coworkers and would do anything for them

❂ i'm pretty sure when i wrote my last writeblr intro i said i love mac and cheese. things have changed for the worse and now i'm very allergic to dairy. tragic, i know.

❂ per usual, my little mentally ill bones give my writing inherent spice

❂ i have a partner (everyone clap), and he has thankfully made me realize how toxic some of the relationships i used to write are :D so many of the couples you may have seen if you've been following me for a while are OUT. but you know what's in? my sweet meow-meow boys. just you wait.

what do i write?

❂ many of my works are religiously inspired or have religious themes. yes i used to be catholic. yes it sucked. now i tear down those systems which took advantage of me in my works.

❂ i still don't write yucky relationship dynamics, especially now that i realized that I DID. but, i do write women who stand up for themselves, i write girls who discover that they deserve kind lovers, and i write men who aren't incompetent when it comes to the women they love. and being queer and dating a queer person, i write healthy wlw, mlm, and nonbinary inclusive relationships.

❂ i love complex characters. i love main characters who do awful, terrible things that are justified by the outcome. I love antagonists who fight against the protagonist because they've only seen the terrible means. and i love haunted characters who are stuck in cycles of evil which they see no way out of.

❂ in the regards of genre, i still only write fantasy. in variations, of course, but i'm a beast of habit

here's what you came for; the WORKS IN PROGRESS >:)

In the wake of a god being mysteriously killed, the Nameless War has waged between the gods and humanity for fifty-eight years, killing that which is mortal and immortal, and creating constant battles for territory between the divine Creator military and the human Revolutionists. As hope for future peace between the species wanes, the fate of the war lands in unlikely hands.

Pandora, a goddess, the lost creator, nameless and chained to the Earth because of duty, yet still running from her true power.

Quinn, a god, the skijic and Creator High General, desperate for the memories of a life lost and the familiarity of a purple-eyed goddess.

Natia, a girl, heiress to one of the Republic of Valentulus’s most powerful cities, and slave to the Revolutionist Snake General.

Loyalties whither, fear awakens, and stories collide as the Nameless War reaches its tipping point. It is up to Pandora, Quinn, and Natia, each of them sworn against one another, to challenge the boundaries of their duties—and their pasts. The only thing that might change their opposing fates is the truth, letting the past fly free could very well set the darkness loose.

Infinite Tangents rewrites the definition of divinity, the gods of legends remembered and lost no more than a species without a home. The fight between deities and humanity is made equal, and the fate of the universe unsure.

Billions of years prior to the events of Infinite Tangents, the planet of Kaleis, and the Kaleidoscope Suns' kingdom is in the peak of its power, guarded by her Divine Majesty Heather and her Phantom Suns. However, in the wake of an attack on the Light God's holy temple, they come face to face with the dark, and the reality that the universe will always call for balance.

Now Heather must navigate the dark, the light, and the truth that good, evil, demonic, and divine may not be so easy to define as she led herself to believe.

All empires must fall, but how much of herself must Heather lose in the process?

Aita Hunt is a ruinsome, good for nothing orphan. With no one to rely on in Requiem, one of twelve glass Orbises launched into Earth's orbit in the wake of its enigmatic destruction, Aita suddenly finds herself fallen into a world of politics, deception, and magic which has little to no patience for a girl who is changing the world by mistake. Bound to love the man who abandoned her; bound to kill the woman with enough money to buy Aita's assassination--she must be scrappy, and quick-witted, and foolish enough to take any handouts offered to her.

Even those given by her makeshift god and Teller of the Requiem.

Aita has never known her odds to be fair, never known a kind touch since her mother drifted into her eternal sleep, but even if it is a dangerous, powerful man granting her a chance to survive, she'll take it.

And if she must be more ruinsome than her divine masters can take, Aita will learn to pray for forgiveness.

(applause here)

if you've made it this far and would like to watch me struggle and scream into the void and hopefully finish these projects, i'd really love a reblog/comment/follow so i can reach out and follow back. seeing others write and pursue their passions pushes me to pursue my own. plus, i love having new writer friends who enjoy void-screaming too.

well then friends, that's it... sort of. i have plenty more ideas to spout at you all but these works will be my main focus. unfortunately for those of you who followed me in the ancient days and are now watching me claw out of a grave like a disgruntled corpse, i will have to pull a bit of content for Infinite Tangents and the world of The Natural Orders in general. for good reason though, as i've started researching literary agents in the hopes of publishing the first book! yayyyy :')

all of this is very daunting, and horrifying, and so much as looking at my list of agents makes me feel like i wanna throw up--but i do remember and am so thankful for the support of everyone who i so much as came across on the writeblr community. without y'all i wouldn't even be trying, so thank you.

to anyone who does remember me, welcome back to my page and sorry for the metaphorical dust. things will get clean i promise. and to anyone new, intrigued, or even skeptical about the crazy things i come up with, please feel free to follow or question me. though, i don't promise the answers will make much sense either.

[diltonsstrangescience]

This page happened to be my first ever introduction to the character of Dilton, and I don’t think anything else could have made a better first impression.

[bloodlessharmony]

agent of chaos !!! angel of death !! one of three ancient fates!!!! playing with your scissors again !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[screambirdscreaming]

Something that peeves me whenever I see another post going around with some variation on "autistic people take things literally which means we are the only people who communicate Clearly and Directly" is that - for any given statement, there is not one singular, agreed on, universal Literal Interpretation. If there was, none of this would be a problem!

The nature of language is that there's always some degree of interpretability. Words have several different meanings, often overlapping, and there's nuance of context, cultural references, and so on.

Faced with a statement, most people will quickly come up with an interpretation that to them makes the most sense. But if you asked a roomful of people to explain in detail their interpretations, everyone's would probably be a little different, even for a pretty simple statement. Regardless of whether those people are autistic! Everyone conceptualizes the world a little differently, and everyone has a unique personal history of all the language they've encountered, and these things effect our interpretations.

In order for communication to be workable, given this slosh in interpretability, there's another couple of processes that go on. As conversation goes on, people reassess if their initial interpretation matches up with additional context. If it doesn't, they revise it, or ask clarifying questions. And on the flipside of this process, the other person in conversation is tracking if your reactions make sense with *their* understanding of what they're trying to convey to you, and offering context or rephrasing things if it seems you're out of alignment.

These processes are social skillsets that are, like most social skillsets, not ever directly articulated or explained. Many people are bad at one or both. Sometimes you encounter someone who is really, notably good at it - the vaunted "good listener", who puts in the effort to really understand what you're trying to say, or that really excellent teacher who engages with you back and forth until you really get it. But a lot of the time, it's a sort of passive social friction - people just not getting each other.

Sometimes, you encounter someone whose brain works so much like yours that talking to them feels almost effortless - you just get each other. But that's a pretty rare occurrence for anyone. More often, as you get to know someone, you start to understand the shape of the way they interpret things and learn to account for it, so over time it's easier to make sense to each other.

It's honestly not uncommon in society for people to aggregate in groups of people who interpret things similarly, and who are thus easier to talk to, rather than actually building the skills of communicating across interpretation gaps. Particularly egregious are those groups of men who talk about Women as an incomprehensible monolith, but it turns up to a greater or lesser degree on a lot of levels.

I suspect this is the root of a lot of parenting problems - people who have never built this communication skillset, and relied on choosing friends who make sense to them without a lot of effort, and who are then totally unprepared to interact with a child who interprets things in ways they don't expect.

Obviously I can't speak to The Universal Typical Experience, not least because it doesn't exist. But in general I would posit that:

Most people, give or take a few assholes, are not trying to say things that are confusing. Most people think they are communicating clearly, because the first interpretation *they* would come up with on hearing one of their own sentences is the correct interpretation.

Many people are not very good at accounting for different ways people could interpret things they're saying. However, it is normal and polite social behavior to be somewhat flexible about this and forgiving of misunderstandings. If people are being shitty to you about not understanding them, they are assholes. And I wouldn't assume that the rest of the communication they have with everyone else they know goes totally smoothly for them.

I suspect there is a bit of an unfortunate feedback loop, where people have bad experiences when someone gets mad at them for not getting something, and learn to hide when they're confused. Which then leads to larger, more complicated misunderstandings, which other different people get upset at them about, because those people think they should have asked for clarification in the first place.

Truly you can't win with everyone. No one can win with everyone. There is no monolith of "neurotypical communication" which resolves all these contradictions - all those people you're lumping in together under "neurotypical" have just as much trouble with each other.

[abstractlesbian]

Find someone slightly annoying but in really small harmless ways so I decide none of the behaviours are worth bringing up with them → realizing: hey, Im also annoying! solidarity! → realizing we have a lot in common and starting to bond → finding out other people find this person annoying and are vocal about it behind their back → finding out this person has ADHD like me that's (at least one reason) why we have all these traits in common → fear.