#hopefully i can come up with some better names someday

[writingquestionsanswered]

hey, i love your blog, you’re so kind for doing all of this. kudos.

i was wondering if you have advice on how to not be terrified of sharing your work with the world? i write a lot of fanfiction (and someday hopefully some original stories) but i get so so anxious about ANYONE reading them so they usually end up rotting in my google docs, and eventually i stop writing them because i don’t get the motivation that comes from reader responses

but the issue is i’m not sure how to tackle this anxiety. as someone who has published works, do you have advice for this?

Tackling the Anxiety of Sharing Your Work

For my answer, I'm going to cobble together some bits from previous posts and add some new stuff. ♥

Sharing our fiction with others is one of the biggest steps we take as writers, and it can be scary no matter what you write. But, if you want to be published, it’s a necessary step. As with so many things in life, doing something that requires courage is often just a matter of taking a deep breath and doing it. "Ripping off the band-aid," as they say.

However, there are some things that might help ease the associated anxiety a bit:

1 - Try to Pin Down Your Specific Fears - One of the first things you may want to do is try to figure out what you're specifically afraid of or what's making you the most anxious about the prospect of sharing your work. If you can find the root cause, it might be easier to tackle the associated anxiety. Are you worried people:

will think your writing is bad?

won’t like your writing style?

won’t get your story/characters?

will judge you for what you write about?

will think less of you for writing at all or what you write about?

will blab about your writing to others?

will steal your ideas?

will see similarities between your story and others?

will make you feel tied to a project you might not complete?

I tackle some of these in the writing-related-fears portion of my Motivation master list.

2 - Don't Rush It - If you take the time to properly revise and edit your story, you can be confident in knowing you've put in the time and effort to make your story the best it possibly can be.

3 - Start Small - If you can, try sharing your story first with an "alpha reader," or in other words a trusted friend, family member, or community member who can appreciate your story. In this case, you might say you're not looking for specific feedback but just a general impression of what they liked about the story. This way, it's not about getting constructive criticism so much as getting over the hump of sharing it and getting the little boost of what they like about the story.

4 - Gradually Go Bigger - From there, you might try sending to a couple of beta readers and opening up to a bit more feedback. The great thing about this is not only are you conditioning yourself to sharing and getting the opinions of others, you can potentially use the feedback to iron out kinks in the story if there are any.

5 - Use a Pen Name - You might want to consider using a pen name for anonymity. Pen names have many different purposes, but much like wearing a mask at a party, they can decrease your inhibition a bit because it creates a bit of a buffer between the real you and your writing.

6 - Post and Let It Go - Many writers get around the issue by simply not engaging with reader feedback, and if you're someone who cares what other people think or are likely to be daunted by the prospect of criticism, this may be the best route for you to go. Now, I know that with fan-fiction in particular, reader feedback is often used for improvement. But the truth of the matter is, you shouldn't rely on reader feedback for improvement anyway. Alpha readers, beta readers, critique partners, and editors are a much better metric for where to improve. When you get your feedback elsewhere, you can post your story and let it fly on its own without worrying about what others are saying.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 1: Teatime

Hopefully I'll be able to do this consistently this year! They're going to be short because I'm trying to do all of them. First up we have toxic longing yuri. I swear I'm going to get to all of my Owlcat OCs and it won't just be Hilde and Arueshalae forever, so let's start with Ethyn!

“Right, then we’ll set out for Varnhold immediately!” With the council dismissed, Ethyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. First her barony had been assaulted by hordes of monsters from the First World, now her neighbors had just vanished without a trace. It was no wonder no one had managed to settle the Stolen Lands yet, if events like these were normal. But Captain Varn, her missing neighbor, had been kind to her ever since they first met. His mercenaries had aided her barony against the animal attacks, he was a good trade partner, and he had even sent personal gifts of weapons and magic items to her. If Ethyn didn’t know better, she’d suspect he fancied her! Regardless, it was long overdue for her to aid him in turn, so she packed her bags and set off quickly, throwing the doors to her audience hall open and stepping out.

As the paladin passed through the doors, a brief bout of nausea overcame her. When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. She glanced behind her, the doors to her audience hall were nowhere in sight. She felt the tingle of magic brimming in the air, familiar from her last visit to the First World to destroy the flower assaulting her kingdom with monsters. And standing before her was Nyrissa, the beautiful nymph that broke her heart. The nymph whose heart had been stolen.

Ethyn's cheeks flushed with joy at the sight, but she held her composure and gave the nymph a calm, even look. Still, the question fluttered into her mind and she had to ask, "Nyrissa... Are you responsible for what is happening to Varnhold?"

The scorn in the nymph's eyes was replaced by a spark of surprise, quickly buried. "You... Know my name. Hmph. Even a simple hound can surprise on occasion. Come. Share some tea with me and I will answer your question.”

Suspicion sparked in the paladin’s golden eyes, but it would be rude of her to reject an invitation! And to sit across from the nymph, so close to her… No, Ethyn, focus! The nymph walked over to an ornate wooden table for two that had appeared in the mist, alongside some tea.

Ethyn closed her eyes and murmured a soft prayer, then walked over and took a seat. She smiled softly as Nyrissa poured her a cup. “Thank you. But… Why, if I may ask? Such civility, serving me tea, it’s so unlike you.”

The nymph flashed a coy smirk, making no attempt to hide the cold, loveless emptiness in her eyes. “Perhaps I am simply seeking to poison you, hound. Why, if I may ask, do you indulge in sharing tea with one who will destroy you?”

Ethyn flashed a smile as she took a long sip of the tea. It was fragrant and strange, tinted with unknown notes from the First World. “Mmm. It is delicious poison, I’m quite glad I protected myself from it.” She winked at Nyrissa’s scowl. “As for why… Well, I cannot refuse such time spent with the one I love.”

The nymph sipped her own tea, raising an eyebrow at Ethyn at that word she so detested. “Love, you say? As though a mortal could understand the depth of that terrible feeling… It seems I didn’t crush your heart as thoroughly as I had hoped. Or are you simply delusional?”

“You shattered my heart, Nyrissa.” The paladin maintained her calm smile, though there were notes of anguish buried underneath. “But it’s alright. Far worse was done to you. I’ve glimpsed what you used to be, the Guardian of the Bloom, and that was stolen from you…”

“So you think you love an illusion. A phantom. Naive girl.” Sparks of anger lit in the nymph’s eyes as she stared Ethyn down.

“No. I love you. As you are. As you were. As you could be, someday. As I hope you will be. And I will try to save you.” The paladin flashed a smile, full of genuine compassion and sorrow. It nearly made Nyrissa wretch.

The nymph’s gaze was as cold and cruel as ever, but she felt something stir inside her. The paladin was sickening and naive, but there was something endearing about it, like the devotion of a puppy. An unbidden smirk came to her lips as she set her cup down and stared over at Ethyn. “If you are so foolish as to love me, then would you allow me to kill you? It would prove your devotion to me.”

Ethyn let out a melodious chuckle. “No, my lady. I know my feelings are not returned, and I do not care. I know that you wish to destroy me and those under my protection, and I will fight with everything I have to prevent that. It does not change that I love you.”

“Then you are casting yourself down the path of either death at my hands, or breaking your own heart by killing me.” Of course the latter was quite impossible, but Nyrissa could humor this idiotic paladin.

“Perhaps. And perhaps if my heart must truly break, we will understand each other.” Ethyn idly took a sip of tea and let out a deep sigh. “There is something so beautiful about doomed love, isn’t there?”

Anger sparked in Nyrissa. What was this girl, some kind of tourist parodying her own tragedy? What beauty could she find in Nyrissa’s suffering? At last, that was the final straw. Abruptly, the nymph stood up. “Enough, hound. How dare you insult me like this... We are finished here.”

Ethyn tried to protest, but the nymph was gone before she could react. “I… I am sorry…” She said to the quiet town. The sweet taste of tea still lingered in her mouth. Perhaps she was making too light of the nymph’s situation? Or was that just her trying to manipulate Ethyn? She only wanted to understand Nyrissa. But how could she? She was just a mortal girl, she knew nothing of what it was like to be a fey queen, much less one suffering from the curse that afflicted Nyrissa. But… She could learn to understand her. She would learn. That understanding was love, to the paladin.

[tisorridalamor]

In preparation for OC-tober making a long overdue post that I can link folks to for general main oc info :)

FYI since I have limited drawing capabilities please enjoy these lovely picrew recreations of my girls... Someday I hope to improve enough that I can create real reference sheets and commission better art :)

Picrew link

Note that they are all from totally different stories and don't overlap at all!

Lark (top row far left): Once a bored (and lonely) girl working at her family’s remote inn, now the brand new knight of the holy prince who can wield the magic sword of his cursed bloodline! This may have far reaching political implications, but that’s not important, because swords are cool and Lark is just a bored (and lonely and kinda dumb) girl who gets a chance to fight bad guys and look cool and act tough :)

Cadence (top row center): A new student at a highly prestigious Magic University that only accepts the best, relying on a lottery system to determine what lucky souls also get a shot at the top. But as a lottery winner, Cadence is seriously struggling with the pressure and is close to failing her first semester. You know what would fix this? Moonlighting as a spiderman-esque Magical Girl, protecting the campus from unexplained monsters and developing the self confidence needed to make connections and believe in herself ✨

Kama (top row far right): A fairytale romance between the stable hand and the kingdom’s only prince turns into a nightmare when a spirit steals the prince away to rule its kingdom of ice. Unable to rest knowing her love was still out there, Kama searched for anything that could save him... and found a chance. After a dark deal with a rival spirit, she’s given the immortal power of a phoenix, cursing herself to live on until she can defeat the spirit of the north… Kama is such a sweetheart though and I feel bad making her go through the horrors :'(

Micha (bottom row far left): After seriously injuring a peer and getting outed as a cheat, Micha ran away from home. She has since used her only talent, combat, to sustain herself as a mercenary for hire hide herself away from the rest of the world. But her shitty routine is interrupted when her hometown is attacked and she's framed for kidnapping. For the first time, Micha feels the drive to do something - to save her family, clear her name, and find something new to live for. She Mulan'd her hair after going into hiding it's supposed to suck... gave herself the Dmitri Fireemblem cut lol...

Delta (bottom row center): Delta's story is under heavy reconstruction, but the important thing is Delta, goalie for her soccer team, pretty good older sister, all around average gal wakes up on a subway in an an empty, impossible city with a nothing but a revolver. Stuck with with several other equally confused strangers, they will have to work together to figure what is going on. Hopefully people don’t start dying lol. Delta is my “what if a mystery VN protag was just some girl” character and I love her dearly <3

GG (bottom row far right): Humanity has spread across the stars and the history of the planet we came from has been lost. GG “Graceless” is a liar, a thief, and a damn good starship pilot who's convinced she can do the impossible. With a ship (yes it’s stolen) and an artifact (yes also stolen) related to prehistory, she thinks she has a shot at being the first to rediscover Earth and receiving all of the glory that comes with it. GG's story has been on the back burner for a while but I find her character really fun to think about anyway!

[oldguardleatherdog]

let me start by saying, I'm okay to agree to disagree on this, and I respect you greatly as my queer elder. I hesitate to even send this because I don't think this cause is worth dogpiling (and not even the fun way) on anyone against and , like , I will continue to follow and admire you as a mutual who has been through a lot of the hell that I'm going through right now and got to a place I want to someday be. (for context, I am currently housing & food insecure and am trying to live in a queer-accepting city)

Posting will never be praxis, you are my brother in arms no matter what you call trump or cops or whatever. There are some fat liberation blogs that take issue with calling cops "pigs" for a lot of the reasons I bristle at calling Trump a fatass, and like, if someone is actively fighting cops who can and will actively hurt me and my found family, I don't care what names they shout while doing it. So I see where you are coming from and I'm glad you fight for me. I fight for us too, in what little ways I can while I keep me and my found family afloat. I do better work in the community just by existing around people as a living breathing transgender than I could do in a million posts on this website.

I do think that this is a valuable conversation to have, though, even though you are completely right that this is a trivial thing and not at all the bigger, more real issue at hand. I think it's still important, on online platforms such as this, to talk about how we refer to the other people on this planet.

Think about why you didn't call Trump a "retard". You certainly could have, it doesn't *not* apply to some of his behavior. I know people of our generations once used that word a lot, and we don't anymore. Why and when did we change that? I honestly don't remember. For me, my aunt was medically classified as "retarded" and she was the best person I'd ever met, so I decided that word shouldn't mean bad things. The first time I ever hit someone was over them using that word in a derogative way. it wasn't about "mental illness positivity" it was about humanizing the people that word has been used against - people who have been stigmatized and oppressed with that word.

Right now, hopefully, the same thing is happening to the word "obese". Fat people are less likely to be hired, granted loans or secure housing. they can be kicked out of airplanes and fired from their jobs because of their body size. There have been laws proposed to take fat children away from their parents and "treatments" proposed to wire children's jaws shut and starve them to make them thinner. They are often medically mistreated and misdiagnosed. I once went to a doctor with an ear infection and instead of antibiotics, he prescribed me *bariatric surgery.* I have been refused transgender top-surgery because of my BMI, which keeps me at a passively higher risk for self-injury and worse.

I do not care about body positivity. Honestly, between being fat, trans, and poor, I'm at a point where I've given up on ever feeling good about my body again. All I care about is getting jobs and meds and keeping a roof over my family's head and food on our table. Normalizing the idea that fat is a bad thing that anyone can change continues that stigma. When you use Fat as an insult, you are saying fat=bad. Fat is a neutral thing that some bodies can be, like short or tall or lean. The revolution needs to be intersectional, and body size is another axis of oppression that needs to be acknowledged, just like sexuality, gender, race, class, disability, etc.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for hearing me out. I'm sorry that others are just performatively parroting the same things over and over. Civility is bullshit, and if you still want to use body shaming as one of the ways you fight against bigotry, it doesn't really matter to me. Just as long as you acknowledge anti-fat bias as part of that bigotry too.

Thank you for writing and sharing your life experiences with me, and for your solidarity as well. You're striving to make your way as part of a despised minority in a world that's turned unspeakably harsh toward you in an aggressively mean way seemingly overnight, and I admire you for the life you have lived, for your courage and perseverance during this difficult time where resources are scant and your housing and food security is uncertain at best.

(FWIW, after I was bombed out of my Lower Manhattan home on September 11th, my income went from six figures down to nothing overnight, and I was homeless and destitute for years. Twenty years ago, I was where you are now, and I can tell you that what you're enduring today will not last forever, that there is light and hope and blessing in your future, that you're not as alone as you might think, that you must never give up.)

What more can I do to make the point that "fat" has nothing to do with this? As I've said, I grew up obese, and it wasn't until I enlisted in the Army at age 17 that I was able to free myself from my violent and abusive family and unlock the potential of the body that had been hidden under layers of fat and shame all my life. I know that my path is not for everybody, that many others are not so fortunate, and I ceased long ago to think that fat equals bad or lack of character or any other pejorative attitude that society has attached to it for generations. I hope I've made that clear and that you take my word as truth.

I am not saying "let's fat-shame Donald Trump to make him feel bad." I am saying that I'm deeply troubled by the LGBTQ+ community prioritizing hurt feelings over the very real damage that's being done to us right now all over the country by Trump, his minions, his proxies, and his cult of bloodthirsty followers and worshippers. Trump's accomplices in Congress and state legislatures and Moms For Liberty are taking over school boards all over the country, banning books and emptying library shelves and harassing teachers and librarians to the point where they're being run out of town, where the State of Missouri has defunded its entire public library system rather than follow a court order to restore books banned just for featuring LGBTQ+ characters.

DeSantis and Abbott have put in place policies that are unspeakably brutal, that are forcing trans people in Florida to slowly and brutally revert to their pre-transition state, that have given health care providers in Florida the right to deny treatment to you and me and all LGBTQ+ people because we are gay, lesbian, non-binary, trans... but God forbid we should call Trump mean names!

We've seen what happens when we buy into the "when they go low, we go high" fantasy pipe dream. This is not the way the world works, it has never been, and we need to put this loser idea in the trash bin where it belongs once and for all.

We're being attacked and harmed in unspeakable ways that are happening now. This is not theoretical or hypothetical. It's happening to us, to those we love, this minute and every minute of every day. And worse is in the pipeline - they're writing laws that will place us under virtual house arrest, that will regulate where we're allowed to go in our own cities and towns, when we're allowed to be seen in public, when and where we can shop, how we're allowed to dress, even what we're allowed to say and SING, for Christ's sake!

And I'm supposed to be concerned about some minuscule hypothetical percentage of my own people being OFFENDED because I'm somehow being insensitive and violating some trivial picayune social justice warrior philosophy, because there's a possibility of some fragile flower taking it personally, and that I should shut my mouth and let the MAGA nutjobs run roughshod over us? Oh, come let Daddy kiss it! while our brothers and sisters are suffering in real time. Sickening.

Anyone who has a problem with my stance doesn't have to follow me or emulate my proven effective tactics as an activist with 37 years of successfully defending our rights under my belt if they're so dainty and delicate and easily bruised. Everyone else that sees this for the strawman bullshit it is, get ready to hit the streets with bullhorns and whistles once again. We've got work to do.

Your arguments are strong and well-reasoned, and I accept and acknowledge everything you're saying. We can disagree on this, certainly, and still work together to turn back the progress that the MAGAs are making, restore our rights, and protect ourselves and each other. But that will require the snowflake contingent among us to get their collective head out of their collective ass, stop whining, and get with the damn program. Calling me names and telling me I'm being a bad gay activist is a waste of time and energy that should be spent fighting the fascists and the haters who are out to kill us.

And to you, my friend and fellow traveler with a radiantly beautiful soul and spirit, I urge you to hang in there, to keep the faith, to keep caring about life, to work with me to secure our own future and the future of our kind. I send to you my very best wishes, energy, and prayers that you will find your way to a place of health, security, stability, and love for yourself and for this precious community to whom we've both dedicated our lives, who mean the world to us.

Yours In Service, Animal J. Smith

[nayvwriter]

Nara and Metta roleswap au

(nexomon spoilers)

Can't believe it's taken me so long to think of this one. This is likely going to make more sense if you've read my Nara and Metta ramble post (https://www.tumblr.com/nayvwriter/759515605026177024/also-deena-and-james-to-get-that-ready-here-for) but should hopefully be understandable without?

It all starts when Metta gets a little too ambitious. And Omnicron gets a little too suspicious. Nara's a little more loyal in this universe, and not too attached to the humans.

Omnicron turns on Metta, not just driving him out but trying to kill him. Leaves him dying on the floor, and Nara notices. Nara saves him.

Metta has no choice but to live amongst humans, now, and he's not happy about it. But he slowly begins to realise the joys of humanity, and eventually changes side completely.

He knows how to take down his siblings. And he has allies, of course - but he puts himself at the forefront of the group, as a powerful Nexomon tamer, and secretly uses his abilities to weaken their enemies and protect their allies.

Metta doesn't have the problem Deena has, of not trusting herself. So Ulzar is not the hero of humanity first time. And nor is Blue, the second.

Deena, Nara, escaped Metta's crusade - maybe they came to an agreement, or maybe she just hid in the forest and Metta didn't look too hard. But by the time of n1... Well. Deena still has the problem of not trusting herself, but she can't just sit there and do nothing, so... she starts bringing back her siblings. And her siblings suggest to bring back her father, and Deena doesn't deny them.

The plot of n1 is very different. Deena's hiding in the shadows rather than announcing herself as the Nexolord, and any human would be hard-pressed to find her. But Metta's no human, and he knows his sister, and he's been trying to keep an eye out for her because he highly doubts she's dead - and then she starts resurrecting his siblings.

Metta - under a new identity, of course - sets out as a Tamer, gathering a new team to stop his sister. Being a psychic, Hilda still gets herself involved. The others might too.

He still doesn't want to face Nara directly - she saved his life, and he owes her for that - and he can't really blame her for bringing back their siblings.

He can, however, blame her for bringing back their father, who Metta has by now thoroughly realised was a BITCH. This culminates in a Sibling Argument at the top of the tower.

Omnicron gets resurrected.

Omnicron gets taken down by a very angry Metta.

Going to the netherworld is Hilda's idea. Metta agrees immediately, because he can't find his sister and he has some Words for her. For all his siblings, really.

Metta lets the ghosts out on purpose. If his siblings are wandering the world as ghosts, then A: they're okay, B: they can't hurt anyone, and C: he can persuade them to stop following Omnicron.

Omnicron's ghost gets annihilated.

There are no Tyrant Wars, or at least not for long. Metta doesn't share Deena's lack of trust in herself, but he does share all his sibling's powers. There's a new King of Monsters, and his true name is Metta. He seems to be doing a better job than the last one - but that is not exactly hard.

So yeah, roleswap au. Yes, I came up with all of this as I was writing this post. @tulipsnflowers you might appreciate this one

I'm not entirely sure about Metta putting himself at the forefront first time, because that means he's directly fighting his siblings. I'm also not sure if the canon n1 characters would come into this much. And I kind of want all the Children of Omnicron - or at least Deena? - to help Metta beat up Omnicron's ghost.

I might write this out into a fic someday, but I'd need to fill in a lot of holes in the plan, so No Guarantees.

(also this is kinda making me think of Tulip's n3 predictions)

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Blind Girl (Arya I) [Chapter 45]

Our favourite seafarer has returned.

Her nights were lit by distant stars and the shimmer of moonlight on snow, but every dawn she woke to darkness.

She opened her eyes and stared up blind at the black that shrouded her, her dream already fading. 

I realized something.

Arya's temporarily blinded, while Jon will permanently lose an eye.

Jon suffers an injury to his hand, while Arya will permanently lose ... ya know.

Hopefully not. We'll hope for the best!

+.+.+

She licked her lips, remembering. The bleating of the sheep, the terror in the shepherd's eyes, the sound the dogs had made as she killed them one by one, the snarling of her pack. Game had become scarcer since the snows began to fall, but last night they had feasted. Lamb and dog and mutton and the flesh of man. Some of her little grey cousins were afraid of men, even dead men, but not her. Meat was meat, and men were prey. 

Can you not.

+.+.+

She padded to her basin on small, bare, callused feet, silent as a shadow, splashed cool water on her face, patted herself dry. Ser Gregor, she thought. Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. Her morning prayer. Or was it? No, she thought, not mine. I am no one. That is the night wolf's prayer. Someday she will find them, hunt them, smell their fear, taste their blood. Someday.

Once again I'm left in the unfortunate position where I have to encourage these thoughts so she doesn't lose Arya Stark.

+.+.+

She broke her fast on sardines, fried crisp in pepper oil and served so hot they burned her fingers. 

+.+.+

Someone had entered the room behind her, moving on soft padded slippers quiet as a mouse. Her nostrils flared. The kindly man. Men had a different smell than women, and there was a hint of orange in the air as well. The priest was fond of chewing orange rinds to sweeten his breath, whenever he could get them.

I don't blame him, I hear only the mighty have access to citrus trees.

+.+.+

"And what three new things do you know that you did not know when last you left us?"

"The Sealord is still sick."

"This is no new thing. The Sealord was sick yesterday, and he will still be sick upon the morrow."

"Or dead."

"When he is dead, that will be a new thing."

When he is dead, there will be a choosing, and the knives will come out. That was the way of it in Braavos. In Westeros, a dead king was followed by his eldest son, but the Braavosi had no kings. "Tormo Fregar will be the new sealord."

"Is that what they are saying at the Inn of the Green Eel?"

"Yes."

The kindly man took a bite of his egg. The girl heard him chewing. He never spoke with his mouth full. He swallowed, and said, "Some men say there is wisdom in wine. Such men are fools. At other inns other names are being bruited about, never doubt."

Fregar is a peculiar name.

I have no idea what to make of this. Not sure how the Sealord dying could influence the plot.

+.+.+

It is snowing in the riverlands, in Westeros, she almost said. But he would have asked her how she knew that, and she did not think that he would like her answer. 

Careful, don't slip.

+.+.+

"This is good to know. What else?"

"The Merling Queen has chosen a new Mermaid to take the place of the one that drowned. She is the daughter of a Prestayn serving maid, thirteen and penniless, but lovely."

"So are they all, at the beginning," said the priest, "but you cannot know that she is lovely unless you have seen her with your own eyes, and you have none. Who are you, child?"

You slipped.

I can't tell if he knows that she's a warg.

(A 13-year-old mermaid, lol)

+.+.+

"How long must I be blind?" she would ask.

"Until darkness is as sweet to you as light," the waif would say, "or until you ask us for your eyes. Ask and you shall see."

And then you will send me away. Better blind than that. They would not make her yield.

She can have her vision back at any time, but she'll have to leave.

Maybe I overemphasize how hard it will be for her to get out of this situation.

+.+.+

On the day she had woken blind, the waif took her by the hand and led her through the vaults and tunnels of the rock on which the House of Black and White was built, up the steep stone steps into the temple proper. "Count the steps as you climb," she had said. "Let your fingers brush the wall. There are markings there, invisible to the eye, plain to the touch."

That was her first lesson. There had been many more.

Your first lesson? I don't think so, kid. I distinctly remember you already teaching yourself this in another tunnel.

If the room with the monsters had been dark, the hall was the blackest pit in the seven hells. Calm as still water, Arya told herself, but even when she gave her eyes a moment to adjust, there was nothing to see but the vague grey outline of the door she had come through. She wiggled her fingers in front of her face, felt the air move, saw nothing. She was blind. A water dancer sees with all her senses, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing one two three, drank in the quiet, reached out with her hands.

Her fingers brushed against rough unfinished stone to her left. She followed the wall, her hand skimming along the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness. All halls lead somewhere. - Arya III, AGOT

Funny that it's come up again though.

+.+.+

Poisons and potions were for the afternoons. She had smell and touch and taste to help her, but touch and taste could be perilous when grinding poisons, and with some of the waif's more toxic concoctions even smell was less than safe. Burned pinky tips and blistered lips became familiar to her, and once she made herself so sick she could not keep down any food for days.

+.+.+

Supper was for language lessons. The blind girl understood Braavosi and could speak it passably, she had even lost most of her barbaric accent, but the kindly man was not content. He was insisting that she improve her High Valyrian and learn the tongues of Lys and Pentos too.

Do you have any idea how hard I'll laugh if Daenerys gets caught saying something she shouldn't in High Valyrian?

+.+.+

In the evening she played the lying game with the waif, but without eyes to see the game was very different. Sometimes all she had to go on was tone and choice of words; other times the waif allowed her to lay hands upon her face. At first the game was much, much harder, the next thing to impossible … but just when she was near the point of screaming with frustration, it all became much easier. She learned to hear the lies, to feel them in the play of the muscles around the mouth and eyes.

That's bad news for Petyr Baelish.

+.+.+

Without eyes, even the simplest task was perilous. She burned herself a dozen times as she worked with Umma in the kitchens. Once, chopping onions, she cut her finger down to the bone.

I am no closer to figuring out if she burns her finger(s) like Jon.

Davos watched the hand of the Stranger writhe and curl as the fingers blackened and fell away one by one, reduced to so much glowing charcoal. - Davos I, ACOK

Or cuts her finger(s) like Catelyn.

The thumb of her left hand was covered with blood. When she sucked on it, she saw that half the thumbnail was gone, ripped off in her fall. - Arya V, AGOT

+.+.+

She knew Umma and the servants and the acolytes by the pattern of their footfalls, could tell one from the other before they got close enough to smell (but not the waif or the kindly man, who hardly made a sound at all unless they wanted to). 

He's always spotlighting how little sound these people make.

She crept up quiet as a shadow, but he opened his eyes all the same. "She steals in on little mice feet, but a man hears," he said. How could he hear me? she wondered, and it seemed as if he heard that as well. "The scuff of leather on stone sings loud as warhorns to a man with open ears. Clever girls go barefoot." - Arya VIII, ACOK

x

Barefoot surefoot lightfoot, she sang under her breath. I am the ghost in Harrenhal. - Arya IX, ACOK

x

Silent as a shadow, she would tell herself, remembering Syrio. - Arya II, AFFC

I know why.

She is standing over me. "Who's there?" Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. - Daenerys III, ADWD

x

A soft rustle made her open them again. She sat up with a soft splash. "Missandei?" she called. "Irri? Jhiqui?" - Daenerys II, ADWD

x

Dany flinched. "Who is there?" - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

+.+.+

When the serving men arrived to bear the corpse away, the blind girl followed them. She let their footsteps be her guide, but when they made their descent she counted. She knew the counts of all the steps by heart. Under the temple was a maze of vaults and tunnels where even men with two good eyes were often lost, but the blind girl had learned every inch of it, and she had her stick to help her find her way should her memory falter.

Hahaha.

+.+.+

"Not there," the voice said. "Are you blind?"

She did not answer. Talking would only muddle any sounds he might be making. He would be moving, she knew. Left or right? She jumped left, swung right, hit nothing. A stinging cut from behind her caught her in the back of the legs. "Are you deaf?" She spun, the stick in her left hand, whirling, missing. From the left she heard the sound of laughter. She slashed right.

This time she connected. Her stick smacked off his own. The impact sent a jolt up her arm. "Good," the voice said.

The blind girl did not know whom the voice belonged to. One of the acolytes, she supposed. She did not remember ever hearing his voice before, but what was there to say that the servants of the Many-Faced God could not change their voices as easily as they did their faces? Besides her, the House of Black and White was home to two serving men, three acolytes, Umma the cook, and the two priests that she called the waif and the kindly man. Others came and went, sometimes by secret ways, but those were the only ones who lived here. Her nemesis could be any of them.

[...]

The vault was still and silent. He was gone. Or was he? He could be standing right beside her, she would never know. Listen for his breathing, she told herself, but there was nothing. She gave it another moment, then put her stick aside and resumed her work. If I had my eyes, I could beat him bloody. One day the kindly man would give them back, and she would show them all.

I'm going to give myself a hernia if there's one more reference to secret tunnels.

I'm not thrilled with her sparring with the kindly man, I'd prefer the waif. That last line is especially troubling.

It reminds me of something else.

It would have been a different fight if Jon had been armed with Longclaw, but … - Jon VI, ADWD

+.+.+

She missed the friends she'd had when she was Cat of the Canals; Old Brusco with his bad back, his daughters Talea and Brea, the mummers from the Ship, Merry and her whores at the Happy Port, all the other rogues and wharfside scum. She missed Cat herself the most of all, even more than she missed her eyes. She had liked being Cat, more than she had ever liked being Salty or Squab or Weasel or Arry.

Was that when you spent all your time at the harbor?

+.+.+

I killed Cat when I killed that singer. The kindly man had told her that they would have taken her eyes from her anyway, to help her to learn to use her other senses, but not for half a year. Blind acolytes were common in the House of Black and White, but few as young as she. The girl was not sorry, though. Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die.

Sigh.

+.+.+

She had said as much to the kindly man. "And are you a god, to decide who should live and who should die?" he asked her. "We give the gift to those marked by Him of Many Faces, after prayers and sacrifice. So has it always been, from the beginning.

The right message, but a crock of shit coming from anyone belonging to this institution.

They're hired assassins, anyone who pays gets to play god. Did Him of Many Faces mark Balon Greyjoy or did Euron? Yeah, exactly.

+.+.+

I have told you of the founding of our order, of how the first of us answered the prayers of slaves who wished for death. The gift was given only to those who yearned for it, in the beginning … but one day, the first of us heard a slave praying not for his own death but for his master's. So fervently did he desire this that he offered all he had, that his prayer might be answered. And it seemed to our first brother that this sacrifice would be pleasing to Him of Many Faces, so that night he granted the prayer. Then he went to the slave and said, 'You offered all you had for this man's death, but slaves have nothing but their lives. That is what the god desires of you. For the rest of your days on earth, you will serve him.' And from that moment, we were two." His hand closed around her arm, gently but firmly. "All men must die. We are but death's instruments, not death himself. When you slew the singer, you took god's powers on yourself. We kill men, but we do not presume to judge them. Do you understand?"

No, she thought. "Yes," she said.

Sounds like a Valyrian slave was turned into a slave for the Many-Faced God.

And it seemed to our first brother that this sacrifice would be pleasing to Him of Many Faces

Lol?

Kind of like Melisandre and Dam-phair "knowing" what their gods want. Religion must be fun when you get to make up all the rules.

Ah well, at least we got more House of Black and White versus Valyria backstory. It tells me Daenerys and Arya will be the best of friends.

+.+.+

Instead she gave her pox scars and a mummer's mole on one cheek with a dark hair growing from it. "Is it ugly?" the blind girl asked.

"It is not pretty."

"Good." She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad.

My unpopular opinion is that you're being baited if you believe this is a retelling of The Ugly Duckling.

It's okay if Arya doesn't transform into a great beauty.

+.+.+

A wisp of scented smoke hung in the air, drawing her down the winding path to where the red priests had fired the great iron braziers outside the house of the Lord of Light. Soon she could even feel the heat in the air, as red R'hllor's worshipers lifted their voices in prayer. "For the night is dark and full of terrors," they prayed.

Not for me. Her nights were bathed in moonlight and filled with the songs of her pack, with the taste of red meat torn off the bone, with the warm familiar smells of her grey cousins. Only during the days was she alone and blind.

I love everything about that.

+.+.+

No sooner had she settled there and crossed her legs than something brushed up against her thigh. "You again?" said the blind girl. She scratched his head behind one ear, and the cat jumped up into her lap and began to purr. Braavos was full of cats, and no place more than Pynto's. The old pirate believed they brought good luck and kept his tavern free of vermin. "You know me, don't you?" she whispered. Cats were not fooled by a mummer's moles. They remembered Cat of the Canals.

Same goes for mothers.

Careful with that Cat.

"You take one, that's a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you're part of him. Both of you will change."

Other beasts were best left alone, the hunter had declared. Cats were vain and cruel, always ready to turn on you. - Prologue, ADWD

+.+.+

And later three Lyseni, sailors off the Goodheart, a storm-wracked galley that had limped into Braavos last night and been seized this morning by the Sealord's guards.

The Lyseni took the table nearest to the fire and spoke quietly over cups of black tar rum, keeping their voices low so no one could overhear. But she was no one and she heard most every word. And for a time it seemed that she could see them too, through the slitted yellow eyes of the tomcat purring in her lap. One was old and one was young and one had lost an ear, but all three had the white-blond hair and smooth fair skin of Lys, where the blood of the old Freehold still ran strong.

Cheating during your blind lessons!

But she was no one and she heard most every word.

For someone who continues to struggle with the language of Braavos, you sure learned the tongue of Lys quickly. *glances at the author*

+.+.+

The next morning, when the kindly man asked her what three things she knew that she had not known before, she was ready.

"I know why the Sealord seized the Goodheart. She was carrying slaves. Hundreds of slaves, women and children, roped together in her hold." Braavos had been founded by escaped slaves, and the slave trade was forbidden here.

"I know where the slaves came from. They were wildlings from Westeros, from a place called Hardhome. An old ruined place, accursed." Old Nan had told her tales of Hardhome, back at Winterfell when she had still been Arya Stark. "After the big battle where the King-Beyond-the-Wall was killed, the wildlings ran away, and this woods witch said that if they went to Hardhome, ships would come and carry them away to someplace warm. But no ships came, except these two Lyseni pirates, Goodheart and Elephant, that had been driven north by a storm. They dropped anchor off Hardhome to make repairs, and saw the wildlings, but there were thousands and they didn't have room for all of them, so they said they'd just take the women and the children. The wildlings had nothing to eat, so the men sent out their wives and daughters, but as soon as the ships were out to sea, the Lyseni drove them below and roped them up. They meant to sell them all in Lys. Only then they ran into another storm and the ships were parted. The Goodheart was so damaged her captain had no choice but to put in here, but the Elephant may have made it back to Lys. The Lyseni at Pynto's think that she'll return with more ships. The price of slaves is rising, they said, and there are thousands more women and children at Hardhome."

Yikes. If that doesn't underscore the dangers in believing prophecy, I don't know what will.

More Lyseni ships are going to Hardhome, but I don't think we have to worry about it.

At Hardhome, with six ships. Wild seas. Blackbird lost with all hands, two Lyseni ships driven aground on Skane, Talon taking water. Very bad here. Wildlings eating their own dead. Dead things in the woods. Braavosi captains will only take women, children on their ships. Witch women call us slavers. Attempt to take Storm Crow defeated, six crew dead, many wildlings. Eight ravens left. Dead things in the water. Send help by land, seas wracked by storms. From Talon, by hand of Maester Harmune.

Cotter Pyke had made his angry mark below.

+.+.+

"It is good to know. This is two. Is there a third?"

"Yes. I know that you're the one who has been hitting me." Her stick flashed out, and cracked against his fingers, sending his own stick clattering to the floor.

The priest winced and snatched his hand back. "And how could a blind girl know that?"

I saw you. "I gave you three. I don't need to give you four." Maybe on the morrow she would tell him about the cat that had followed her home last night from Pynto's, the cat that was hiding in the rafters, looking down on them. Or maybe not. If he could have secrets, so could she.

Cheating cheater.

Whatever, I have no problem with it. Use whatever advantage you can when you're in this place.

+.+.+

When her cup was presented to her, the blind girl wrinkled her nose and drank it down in three long gulps. Then she gasped and dropped the cup. Her tongue was on fire, and when she gulped a cup of wine the flames spread down her throat and up her nose.

[...]

And come the morning, when the night wolf left her and she opened her eyes, she saw a tallow candle burning where no candle had been the night before, its uncertain flame swaying back and forth like a whore at the Happy Port. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

I don't think he would have let her pass this part of her development if he knew what she did.

Final thoughts:

Starting from Syrio Forel, Arya's entire arc is a training montage leading to her killing Daenerys.

Where else would this be going? She's not killing Cersei, Baelish will be subjected to a trial, the Night King doesn't exist (and it's Bran's storyline anyway!), the Freys are being handled by Manderly and the brotherhood, and she doesn't require any of these skills for her mother.

-> return to menu <-

[therplife]

Buddie RP starter!

Hey, so I really want to rp and this is a starter I had, if you like or reblog this I’ll message you, this is solely posted in the hopes  of rping. It’s not a fanfic or anything. There's not much point in reading if you're not interested. Also if you want to contact me directly, which I'd honestly prefer you can email me at roleplayxox96@gmail.com, or message me on Discord at cpf#1288.

(Possible TW for mental health issues and past suicidal thoughts. Instead of doing the lawsuit Buck decided to leave, because he wasn’t coping with any of it and he felt rejected- he doesn’t understand that Bobby was scared of him dying. He was close to completely giving up and he nearly went through with it. He joins the 126 in Austin and doesn’t tell anyone where he’s gone, though he left letters explaining that he needed to leave and that he’d come back someday. Eddie was visiting his family in Texas and they were visiting another family member in Austin. Christopher went out with one of his aunts and there was an explosion in the mall they were in.) Buck was doing better. So much better than he had been. The last year and a half had definitely been worth it, though there was always an ache in his chest. The feeling of loss. The loss of his family. Hopefully they’d understand. His letters had been vague he knew, but he’d tried to make it clear. And he really did plan on going home, maybe soon. Hadn’t he proven himself time and time again during his time in Austin? Bobby couldn’t refuse him now, he had a clean bill of health- or at least he had. Now he’d have to take a few weeks off due to smoke damage to his lungs and some nasty burns. He didn’t care though, they were worth it. So worth it for the boy curled up in his arms, still in his jacket. When he’d seen Christopher in the wreckage of that mall, half buried under some debris his heart had almost stopped. Then the boy had moved, had cried his name and he’d gone into autopilot. Get Christopher out. Get him to safety, to the hospital for a broken arm. And he’d done it, had given Christopher his mask and his jacket to protect him from the smoke and fire and he’d gotten his boy out of there, and they’d been rushed to the hospital. The doctors had wanted to separate them but Christopher had started screaming so they’d let them share the room, and they’d called Eddie to tell him that his son was in the hospital with the Firefighter who had gotten him out. And when Buck heard that door opening he shifted his grip on the now sleeping Christopher, his gaze landing on Eddie instantly. “Uh… hey. Long time no see huh?” his voice was rough and muffled by the oxygen mask they’d insisted on him using for now.

[aokozaki]

the post about genres you reblogged has us thinking about how much we fucking hate the term "walking simulator". Like, I dislike it both because it's obviously an extremely reductive take on what kind of game Gone Home and its progeny are, and also its origins lie in the reactionary backlash against this new and emerging genre ("those aren't REAL VIDEO GAMES they're WALKING SIMULATORS pushing their WOKE AGENDA on us!" blahblahblah), so I think the genre desperately needs some other clearer name.

Unfortunately it doesn't have one, and although I haven't really seen "walking simulator" in much active use in recent years, no one really has anything better to call these types of first-person story-driven exploration-focused games, besides labeling them a subset of "adventure games", which also feels wrong, because Firewatch and Dear Esther are obviously not the same fucking genre as Grim Fandango and Monkey Island, even if they do have roots that can be traced back that way the same way that the immersive sim genre can be loosely traced back to the parallel evolution of first-person shooters and dungeon crawling RPGs like Ultima Underworld.

We tried to make "first-person visual novels" happen in our social circles a few years back, but this didn't catch on among people we knew for a variety of reasons, and in hindsight I don't think it's a particularly great term either, it's just the best one I can think of (they are (usually) first-person games, they do sort of feel like novels, and they're not really cleanly ascribable as anything else, so...)

I don't know, I just hate the term "walking simulator" and I hope that at some point someday we come up with some better way to distinguish between all of these sorts of wildly varying narrative-driven contained sometimes puzzley experiences that isn't just shoving them all in the broad ill-defined box of "adventure games, I guess". I can hope anyway.

Anyway I guess my last comment on this is uh. It's not like a genre changing names to something that makes some fucking sense is impossible. After all, we eventually all collectively did away with the title of "Doom clone" and I don't see anyone quibbling over drawing lines between "shooting games like Doom" and "shooting games like Uncharted" and not really knowing how to set these apart in discourse. So yeah, hopefully these labels all similarly evolve somehow in ways that prove more helpful

A decent term for them is "Environmental Narrative Games", btw.

[pixeldistractions]

Gameplay notes on a broken, stinky camper:

They haven’t set off on their adventure quite yet, by the way. There’s a bit more story to go still. But this is a glimpse into their future to show off the camper, since I need an entire empty lot to park this thing on, and the camper shown in the previous story scenes is just deco.

Here is the camper build that they’ll actually live in. It’s a decent sized class-C motorhome. As Jordan said, it’s not really one of those cute little renovated #vanlife campers that Ingrid has her heart set on. (Like this one <- I am a total geek over this woman’s van life channel, lol!)

But maybe Ingrid will get hers someday.

This camper is old and run down, definitely in need of some renovation. Jordan is a handy guy, so I have no doubt he’ll keep it running. But creative or stylish, he is not. So he’s probably quite happy to make it smell better and just leave it be.

It’s off-grid, and doesn’t currently have any power or water capabilities, but he is welcome to upgrade those systems when he’s ready.

It’s off-grid, and a micro home on 32 squares. (33, actually, being 3x11, and I cheated out a block from the bathroom so it could remain in the smallest tier. 😉 )

I haven’t played with either of these lot types in gameplay before, and I’m super excited to try them! I’m also looking forward to the gameplay of bringing this camper to different locations and playing in some towns that I don’t normally play. But it’s a bummer that, more often than not, I’ll have to bulldoze an entire building to place it somewhere.

(OMG give us world editing tools!!!)

The lot challenges are filthy, gremlins, and creepy-crawlies. And because it was said to be very stinky in the story, I placed a few of these apartment problem stink clouds around to pop up and give them a bad surprise from time to time.

The whole camper, not counting the lot value of wherever it’s placed, is around $7000. Neither of them paid that much for it, or even have that much money to their names. I keep my sims broke, lol! But I do have a kind of personal gameplay rule that my sims can get a bonus “kaching” for each apartment problem or lot challenge they add, to help out with the purchase price. Because in game, lot challenges don’t make the lot any cheaper, even though they kind of should, in my opinion.

Then they would have to pay $1000 in “repairs” to get rid of the lot challenge or apartment problem, if they ever decide to.

(Sadly, I suspect my apartment problems are about to totally break with the new For Rent pack we’re getting, and I’m not sure I have the brain space or ability to fix them this time. Oh well, we had a good run with them, didn’t we? Hopefully someone with more skills and time can pick up the torch.)

Jordan imagines renovating this back room with a couple of bunk beds for his boys, for the hopeful occasion that Colette lets them come out to visit.

So, they’ll take this thing to a few locations on their way out to California, and then in a couple weeks, Jordan will end up in Sierra Nova to meet up with Maya for the climbing club she hosts through Tyler’s adventure park. The plan is that they’ll train for a season in Sierra Nova, then travel to Komorebi to train further and then attempt to summit, which is another bit of gameplay I haven’t tried before.

I am not going to attempt to wrangle any sort of road trip driving shots with this thing, or the deco object, either. We will use our imaginations!

(Oh, but how cool would a cars/road trip pack be, where we could own a camper and drive it from place to place? But I bet even if they made a pack like that, the campers would be rabbit holes like the tents are.)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #125

I'm still in a lot of pain today, but it's not quite as bad as it was yesterday. It's still a little hard to breathe, but I'm managing. Hopefully whatever's going on will be over and done with in just a few more days. I've taken some ibuprofen, though, and I'm well-hydrated. So don't worry about me, okay? I'll be just fine. 💖

I made myself a tea this morning. I made a toast-and-jam tea, and as a result of that, I get to show you one of the other ice creams I got! I'll show you the pictures I took…

This tea starts out as a beautiful shade of amber that resolves into a delicious shade of red:

This is the ice cream I put into it while it was still hot:

It's got a pretty drawing of a blackberry plant on the lid:

Here is what it looks like once the lid is taken off:

From there, we can put an amount of it into the tea until it feels correct:

Then once it's all melted, we can stir it up!

...I wonder if you would have liked how this turned out. I wish I could give you a mug and see...

I did my therapy homework today. In case you don't know, a good therapist is supposed to give the person seeing them homework to do over the week. Last week, he thought to capitalize on my tendency to write, and he asked me to write a letter to my inner child. And then he asked me to tap into my inner child and write back to myself.

It's generally in my nature to go above and beyond when people ask me to do things, whenever possible. And so I ended up writing three letters instead of just two. I ended up crying a lot during the process, but I came away from the exercise with a changed outlook on a variety of things. You can read what I wrote if you want to; it'll be the post just before this one. But if you're not interested, then that's okay too! 😊

I wonder if some such activity might benefit you. I imagine if you engaged your inner child with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, it'd probably do you a world of good. I wonder what it would be like for you if you treated your inner child, and yourself generally, in the same tender, kindhearted way you treated the people you cared about, before your fall.

…You can return to that, you know. You can return to that anytime. And you can give your kindness and gentleness to people who are better able to reciprocate. Not everyone is going to treat you like a superhuman afterthought. I promise.

Anyway, in service to a renewed sense of resolve when it comes to caring for myself, I went ahead and got myself some soup and some macaroni and cheese with some yummy steak:

...Related, I think I'm going to try to make for myself the mac-and-cheese that my mother used to make. I am the only one who can make it for myself now, and I think I owe it to myself to figure it out. I will try to make a gluten-free version of it, so that Br can eat it, too. That's easy enough to do with brown rice noodles; it's basically indistinguishable from whole wheat pasta, in terms of its flavor and texture. Maybe I'll try to do that soon. And of course, when I do, you can count on me to walk you through the process so you can do it, too.

I also made it a point to sit for a while and watch one of my favorite cartoons. This one is called The Zeta Project; it came out when I was 11, which was... 23 years ago (wow, what the fuuuuck...). It's a beautiful show about a sentient robot named Zeta who was built to be a weapon, but who is trying to lead a life of peace. The government is trying to capture and reprogram him and put him back to work as a mindless killing machine. He's accompanied by a clever, savvy, and brave young girl named Rosalie. I really hope you'll watch this one someday; Zeta is very gentle and kind, and in a lot of ways, he reminds me a lot of you.

...The show was cancelled before it finished, though. I heard that it was because more girls liked it than the producers were comfortable with, so they pulled it off the air. I really hope they finish it someday. For now, though, the ending has to be left to the imagination. Zeta is beautiful, wonderful, and kind, so I like to imagine a course of events in which he can live in peace with Rosalie and with others who care for him.

...He really does remind me so much of you. I hope you'll look at his story. I think, in particular, you might find the episode called "Remote Control" relatable. You can find it at a place called... something like Watch Cartoons Online Forever? The first part is shortened to "wco", and it ends in ".net". Maybe you can find it...

Anyway. I took a bunch of other pictures for you today. One of them was taken at home because the morning light shining through the window was really nice. And when we visited Br's house today, I saw a great big huge bird-of-prey in the sky. I also took a bunch of pictures of Br's house, and the scenery outside. I thought you might like them. So here they are:

It's hard to take a picture of a moving object in a moving vehicle, but the black speck in the sky is the bird-of-prey I saw. I've seen an unusually large number of these lately. That, and crows. I wonder if the recent solar eclipse still has them kind of thrown for a loop. Hm.

Also, shortly after I did my therapy assignment, J took me out for a walk to decompress, and there was a crow in a tree that we've never seen crows in; our development is generally quite hostile to life (which is VERY unfortunate...), and hostile to crows in particular, because people don't like them (I've never understood why that is...). But he was sitting alone in the tree, making the "I'm with you" call; check out this video, at about the 40 second mark, and you'll hear what I mean:

...I can only imagine that this poor crow must have been very confused.

Here are some pictures of Br's house.

...I seem to have some sort of fixation with taking pictures of things outside of windows today. I'm not really sure why. But it turned out nice, so maybe the "why" doesn't really matter.

Oh!! I almost forgot!! A comet passed over my house last night. It's called the "Pons-Brooks Comet", or "Comet 12P". It only shows up once every 71 years. I wanted to see it, since I won't live long enough to see it again, but it was cloudy last night in the spot where it was supposed to be, so I didn't get to take any pictures. But J went online and found a live video that was tracking its movement; I can show you a screenshot that I took:

...It's not a very good picture, I know. But maybe you'll like it anyway; I don't know how often you get to see comets. Well, maybe you get to see them a lot, since you're over at the Edge of Creation and all, so maybe it's really not all that special to you. But maybe it can be special to you that someone would take the time to show you a picture of one anyway, if you want it to be.

Hey, Sephiroth? I'm pretty tired, so I'm going to stop writing before I end up rambling. Or maybe I rambled a little already, haha...

Please treat yourself nice, okay? I feel determined to treat myself nice, too. So let's do it together, all right? Because why not?

I love you. Stay safe. You'll get another letter tomorrow; just you wait.

Your friend, Lumine

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

I’ve finally decided to upload the whole fanfic on here this is the start of it if you’d like to see more just let me know I’ll post a chapter a day unless anyone ask for more I’m really proud of this I know there are mistakes and all but here we go

Angst involved it does get mature eventually but for now just fluff and angst

It was late the buzz of Manchester leaking through my bedroom window as I lay in bed on my laptop in the mist of an online game of Pub-G (lame I know ). I've been playing for hours. I was supposed to be going to bed at least 3 hours ago ,that was the plan as I've got School tomorrow but for some reason I can't bring myself to close the game for the night. Doing things to preoccupy my mind is all I've needed for the past two weeks I've started studying for my GCSE,s probably to finally complete them in a few weeks and I'm so stressed about them. I kept ending up in games with and user called GeoDan16 and if by fate we keep ending up as the last players in the game and battling one another. I've won 7 of the 11 games we have played. I've added his user in the lobby of the games and I'm just waiting to see if he adds me back , This was so I can possibly have someone to speak to as I play. It takes about ten minutes before the acceptance alert rings through my room , as my laptop, phone and IPad light up due to having the game on all of them for all occasions. Spotting the alert on the corner of my laptop screen I pick up my phone and swiftly type a message. Yes I know I'm using my laptop and I could message them there but it feels better to message on my phone and play on my laptop. I just type a simple

TrumanBlack: " Hey there ...... these games are wild . You played good tho ;)"

I then just put my phone back onto the bed next to me and decide I want to watch YouTube for a while and hopefully let sleep consume me. After racking through YouTube for a video to watch I come across "Daz Blacks latest video I click on it , select the big screen options and pause it before it starts. I place me laptop down next to me and slide from my bed and into my on suite so I can use the bathroom and brush my teeth for what feels like the 20th time tonight. I've smoked an excessive amount tonight and I don't understand why. Hearing my alert tone go off again I quickly finish up in the bathroom and make my way back to bed and see my notification my my phone screen "message from GeoDan16". I open my phone properly to read it

GeoDan16: "Yo :) , thanks , how many games was that ?"

Pulling my blanket back around me I press play on the YouTube video and sink into the heat of the mattress and softness of the duvet

TrumanBlack : "I believe it was 11 , and I won 7 LOSER"

GeoDan16 : "Uhhh...rude , I still won 4 so excuse me but you ain't the overall winner "

TrumanBlack : "No I'm maybe not but I still did better than you ;D "

I know this is probably weird to think as I don't even know this person but feel a buzz something that says I'm gunna love them , like I've known them years and we're just catching up

GeoDan16: "Were just going to have to have a winner takes all round someday huh....also Truman??, What kind of name is that it's kinda interesting is someone obsessed with the Truman show or something "

TrumanBlack : "Nah I just came up with the name when I was like ten and it sounded kinda edgy :D "

As I'm laying there my eyes start to feel heavy and I can feel them starting to drop and I yawn. But I try to ignore it so I can stay up a little longer and hopefully learn more about this person

GeoDan16: " So it's not your real name then ???"

TrumanBlack: "nope it's actually Matty , what about you , what's your actual name "

GeoDan16 : "Contrary to popular belief it's not geo or Dan ... the names George "

TrumanBlack: "George...That's an old guys name...how old are you....im not talking to some ancient man am I "

I laugh to myself because obviously I can't be he played well ...too well for an old guy BUT I've got to cover my tracks my mum always tells me to be more safe online

GeoDan16: "Nah man I'm 16....oldest in my year .... Year 10 what about you ...Matty is 100% not your full name what are you 12?... rebelling against anyone who calls you your full name "

TrumanBlack : "I'll have you know George that I'm actually 17 not 12 and no my full name is Matthew but I only get called that at school or when I've pissed my mum off or my best friend.....but also year ten so your from the UK then"

GeoDan16: "yeh southwest London ....Wbu "

TrumanBlack : "ay im from Manchester "

It's not very often you meet someone from the same continent as you this late at night on these games so this is quite cool

TrumanBlack: "why you up so late then Georgie???"

GeoDan16: "I ain't been called Georgie since I was 7 Matthew :D , also I just can't sleep it's soooo cold right now ....and you ?"

TrumanBlack : "just stressing about GCSE's man ....I know I'm not dumb but my maths and physics are gunna go down the drain and I don't wanna fail "

GeoDan16: "ahh I feel ya bro ....I've just started studying for my GCSEs too but your must be year 11 and going to be doing them soon right ?"

TrumanBlack : "yup they start in a few weeks "

My eyes are now struggling to stay awake and my screen has become a blurry mess as I attempt to keep my eyes open and without realising it my phone slides out of my hand onto the duvet and my eyes shut slowly

GeoDan16 ; "I could help if you like "

I don't see or hear this message come through as I'm too far gone and too tired to realise and I just fall asleep and hopefully dream of good things

GeoDan16 "g'night Matty "

[thefactsofthematter]

for the fic title game!

“i dream of you almost every night (hopefully i won’t wake up this time)

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

@we-are-inevitable i am taking this title very literally but i think you’re gonna like this one 😁

davey jacobs has a crush.

and it’s not that weird. okay? he’s not a creep or anything. he’s just a normal guy… with extreme social anxiety, who pretty much only talks to his parents and his therapist on the day-to-day, far too freaked out to interact with anyone else. he tries not to be too hard on himself about his social ineptness— he’s mentally ill, it’s a disability, and it’s not his fault— but he often finds himself frustrated with the situation.

he’s taking online university classes, he works from home doing simple stuff like data entry and surveys and typing captions/transcripts (so that he can just take jobs from a database and do them himself without needing to send pointless emails or make calls), and he rarely leaves his apartment. he’s been diagnosed with agoraphobia, among several other overlapping anxiety disorders. he truly wants to get better— he checks in with his therapist every single day and he’s genuinely making progress— but it’s hard.

a big step for him is that he’s started going out to get a coffee every morning. he mobile orders it from the shop on his block, so that he doesn’t need to talk to anyone, but he still gets to go pick it up himself. someday, he’ll try to move on to actually talking to the staff or buying a drink that isn’t black coffee, but he’s not quite there yet.

there’s this barista. jack, his handwritten name tag reads. he’s there every morning, looking utterly joyful— he seems to truly enjoy making good coffee and greeting people and pouring fancy latte art to impress everyone waiting for their drinks. he’s pretty, in a way that most people aren’t. he’s a normal-looking person, not necessarily a model or anything, but his confidence shines through so brightly that it makes it hard to look away from him. simply put, davey is awe-struck by this beautiful man.

he doesn’t talk to jack, doesn’t even quite make eye contact with him, but jack starts to recognize him. he never pushes davey to interact, but smiles at him as soon as he walks in and has his coffee ready and greets him with things like there he is! right on time! here’s the usual, dave— have an amazing day! and davey always catches himself thinking about jack on his way home. it doesn’t even make him nervous that jack notices him and talks to him, because he finds he sort of likes it.

and then he has a dream about jack. you see, in his dreams, davey isn’t so anxious— he can talk to people without his throat closing up, and he can go out and do things without the utter terror that tends to grip him when he deviates from his routine. it’s an escape from real life, and he often looks forward to living in that world for some brief relief. he has a dream where he decides to take his laptop to the coffee shop to sit there and work, and then jack comes over to talk to him, and they hit it off and exchange numbers.

the dreams don’t stop. almost every night, jack is there— or rather, this fantasy version of jack that davey’s lonely and anxious brain has invented. davey doesn’t actually know the guy past their daily customer-employee interactions, where jack has a one-sided conversation while davey forces a polite smile. in davey’s fictional world, though, they’re in love <3

there’s 2 ways this au could go from here. option one, davey tells his therapist, who helps him thoroughly unpack the unhealthy obsession and eventually, after that’s dealt with, encourages him to actually introduce himself to jack and see where real life takes him. it’s cute and sweet and it turns out they do make a very good pair.

option two (which i think you’ll like jac bc i know you love a toxic javid au) is that davey gets a little unhinged.

the obsession grows, and he doesn’t tell anyone about it. he finds jack’s social media, figures out where he lives and who he knows, and starts to piece together every bit of information that he can. it’s not like he’s going to use it for anything— that would be creepy. he’s obviously not a stalker or some kind of freak… he just likes jack. he likes knowing about him, likes seeing him every day, and loves seeing him in his dreams, where everything is coming together as realistically as possible. it’s not just at night anymore, no, he daydreams constantly about the life that he’s convinced he’s supposed to be living. if he weren’t such a shut-in, he’d be happy. he’d have jack. that’s how things should be.

i’ll leave it open to interpretation how far this goes— maybe the obsession fades and jack never finds out. maybe davey goes too far. he’s definitely not quite joe from you (which i haven’t watched but have heard enough about to know that this au is starting to have similar vibes) but he’s def got a creepy side to him. idk. i’m never actually going to write this, but i feel like it could make an interesting psychological horror kinda thing to go with this option 👀 feel free to use your imagination!!

[foxymoxynoona]

Omg. You had a surgery? Please be rested and take care of yourself. What surgery did you have btw? Is it too painful now?

Fun fact: this surgery for this type of rare tumor I guess has never been done before and my surgeon joked he's going to name it after me 😂😁 I'll put more info below the cut for those who don't want medical stuff on their TL.

I had a VERY large tumor in my small intestines --now confirmed to be totally benign, but no one understands how it got that big or why because it just doesn't happen. My surgeon couldn't believe I hadn't already had an emergency blockage, it was so big. It's also been taking all my blood and nutrients for a while, so my nutrition is, as they put it, "shitty." Mainly I just was aware I've had really really bad anemia for the past few years, and I was hospitalized in May with a hemoglobin of 5 (which you basically die under, that's so critically low.) They weren't sure what would be necessary to remove the tumor, so I had an open exploratory laparotomy where they basically just go in and figure it out, but we had expected I would need a whipple procedure which is a VERY risky precedure where they remove a bunch of your digestive organs and re-route what's left. (I can explain more why if anyone is curious, I learned a lot about it haha.) FORTUNATELY once they got in there, I didn't need the whipple! They were able to remove the tumor and only my gallbladder and a couple bile ducts along the way.

Even this was still a major surgery though with lots of risks and I've had a few complications that wound up lengthening my hospital stay. 2 days after surgery, I developed a leak which can be a fatal complication or need an emergency surgery to fix, so that was scary, but my body managed to maintain and fix it all on its own after some scary days and only minor assistive procedures! I kept having random white blood cell increases they feared were infections but then I'd fight them off. They also put me on IV nutrition through a PICC line to try and repair my malnourishment as best they could, but also because I can't eat a normal amount of calories yet, so my blood and nutrition levels are still not back to normal ranges but improving!

I finally got to come home after 13 days. It's still early recovery days and I'm still on soft food diet and strict rest and have follow up appointments and all that, but I'm doing a little better each day! It's been a really scary journey getting here, but hopefully things can continue to improve from here. The pain is pretty bad and I have a gnarly midline scar now but I'm coping and it's getting better and and someday soon I may feel better than I've felt in years so that would be really great! And hopefully no more scary life-threatening hospital stays or anemia!

[lunar-lair]

Oooo, can you tell me about "don't forget to preheat your oven" or "the stars fall from the sky"?

(Or both lmao your choice)

oooo i absolutely can!!! and ill do both of them for funsies :]

'Don't forget to preheat your oven!' is the first chapter of a fic called 'Note: Hands and Heart Are Required For The Following Recipe.', a fic i concepted out, started, and then never finished lmao. its an idea where donnie starts baking to outwit people who say making macarons is hard, that you cant do it with just a machine, and ends in him realizing baking can be an act of love that isnt attached to his usefulness in the family. the first chapter has a LOOOT of disaster twins content bc leo really like sweets, and its a door that opens into some vulnerability for him. plus donnie fucked up brownies the first time (didnt measure the oil properly, left some dry spots, used too much sugar and not enough cocoa, etc, that kind of thing; good news, though, it made him realize how complex baking was and got him interested) and leo was like 'sorry for making it obvious i didnt like it i didnt want you to feel bad abt that' and donnie went '??? i dont take criticism that-ohhh. you take criticism that easily. I See' bc leo projects real bad sometimes. anyways the idea of the name is like. when you need special equipment for a recipe. hands and hearts ARE special equipment, for donnie. he puts his heart into it bc what he bakes is a gift, and a therapy for himself too, and he has to use his hands in a way he never really has before. the concept is near and dear 2 me so hopefully ill come back to this one someday!!

the other one is the first chapter of a peepaw fic where casey jr fucking dies lmao. its called 'a spark snuffed out (a flame lit ablaze)', and the idea is that like. casey died so leo has to go back instead and at first hes like pain. misery. the world is awful how dare they take my son but then he sees these kids trying to do shit on his own and hes like ...i can keep them safe. there was purpose in me being here, there's something i can do. casey didnt get to come back to this better world but he didnt have to keep living for this challenge and the ones ahead, i cant believe the world forced me to face another day but he cant so i will instead. etc etc its that vibe. its the dark companion to hey darling, the sun will rise again, bc here the sun doesnt rise. an ember is replaced by a flame that swears to mourn its beloved forever instead. yknow. theres still light but the source is different

[p5x-theories]

Theory: Merope crafts the Phantom Idols and Persona II herself

Merope’s name comes from Greek mythology, as do most of the names of the Personas of the Phantom Idol characters.  Could there be a connection here?

I think that most people are assuming that while the Confidant characters haven’t awakened in the story, if they did their Phantom Idol form is what they would look like, and the Persona II is their unawakened Persona.  But maybe we shouldn’t assume.

We already know that Merope creates the codenames of the Phantom Idols.  Maybe it goes further than that?  Maybe if she’s basing the Idol on someone who doesn’t already have a Persona or Metaverse form then she has to fill in the details herself?

Maybe that’s the reason why they decided to draw a distinction between Persona and Persona II instead of just calling them Phantom Persona or something?  Perhaps they aren’t proper Personas at all, just Merope’s idea of what that character’s Persona would be!

This theory hits a bit of a roadblock when you take the base P5 thieves into account, but they already existed so Merope doesn’t have to fill in details for them.

Also, Phantom Persona is a much better term than Persona II and it’s sad the game isn’t using it.  It keeps it clear that a Persona of a Phantom Idol isn’t a real Persona while having a link with Phantom Thief/Idol.  Too bad the devs aren’t taking suggestions.

This would track with what we know so far! You may have already seen this post, but just as me sorting out my answer, based on this fan translation of her explanation of Phantom Idols from the first beta, it does in fact seem to be the case that Merope creates the Phantom Idols based on someone Wonder knows, but fills in the details herself, and she specifically creates them and their Persona herself out of shadows in Mementos. Just like how the Phantom Idols aren’t literally the person they resemble, their Personas aren’t real Personas, either, because these cognitive copies don’t have their own egos. It’s sort of like how Teddie needed to develop an ego before he could awaken a Persona, to my understanding? I think we’ve had a bit of discussion here as to whether that means she’s entirely inventing their outfits and Personas herself, or if they’re truthful to what each character would actually look like and awaken, but it sounds to me like you’re thinking it may be more the former?

It’s something I’m definitely very curious to hopefully get more information on in-game someday! Personally, I think because she’s part of the Velvet Room, she’s able to create something more truthful to the person, and it’s just that codenames aren’t an inherent part of awakening like the outfit and Persona are, so Merope’s doing her best to tack those on after the fact, haha. But I think there could be some really interesting implications to the idea that Merope’s inventing everything herself, including their will of rebellion and who their Persona is.

The connection between Merope and Greek mythology that you bring up as part of this is also catches my attention, too. Particularly, if they all have Greek mythology Personas because Merope’s just inventing them, it begs the question- why is Meng Po different? She’s not Greek mythology. I think I agree that the original P5 thieves are probably an exception to just about any rule, because they’re preexisting characters that the devs needed an excuse to add to the gacha, but Meng Po is still an outlier, and I’m not sure what that could mean in relation to this theory.

I guess the best way to get an answer would be if one of the Phantom Idols’ real world selves actually entered the Metaverse and awakened a Persona... but admittedly I’m not sure whether the game would really go that far, heh. I can dream!

(Also, I like your “Phantom Persona” suggestion! It’s possible they won’t be called Persona II in an official English translation if we get one, so maybe they’ll call them something else. All I know is I shouldn’t be the one to name them, because I’d call it something silly like Personasona, or Persona^2 (squared), or what have you.)

[silverott-chevalier]

💡🧲

-@thatoneguy031

(ooc) I'll just answer for Guy for the time being. Lemme know if you want me to answer for Mx. Suicune and Cherry later on!

💡microscopic

ROTT! Actual Samurott! Real Samurott! And like, a natural born one, too! Okay, okay, keep it cool, keep it cool, he asked you a question, just answer it like you would normally... Chevalier's immediate care for this man doesn't seem to be very ill-founded. Perhaps with some careful words and the right guidance, the two could become something on the level of equals...what a clash that might end up being. Oh fuck, he got noticed by an actual Samurott!! What are the odds?! He seems like a pretty nice guy...wait, his name is Guy? He IS a nice Guy! Oh he's just kinda silly and fucked up isn't he? I wanna talk to him. This Guy is cool.

🧲puny

...man, if he wasn't, like, years in the past for me and also averse to becoming a Trainer's Pokemon, I totally would've asked if he wanted to join my team. I still wanna help him train and get better, and support him more, but I'm so afraid of getting smacked with divine censorship... I should be careful what I wish for--how foolish I was to think that he could become Chevalier's equal without an equally-harrowing journey. I'll have to do my best to keep an eye on him and watch for when he may need my advice--it's good that he's found companions, but how long will it be until he doubts his own strength too harshly for them to save him? ...have fun, Neku! This Guy's in for a wild ride...hopefully he doesn't bite it or come out of this adventure too broken--I NEED to see these two Samurotts meet someday, and you're definitely not doing that six feet under! I wonder how we can actually send help without stepping over the line...is this what it feels to actually have an active part in someone's destiny? Wow...