#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

[olsenmyolsen]

Unpaid Intern

Part 6 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~5.7K

masterlist

🚨 SMUT AHEAD 🚨

Y/N POV

"Do you want kids someday?" I blurt out without realizing it.

Liz gets up and sits up next to me. "I think so?" Liz begins playing with her fingers. I notice she does this when she's nervous and anxious. So I take her hands and put them in my own. "Do you?" Liz asks as her finger gently traces the line inside my palms.

"I do."

"What would you like to name them?" Liz asks, now leaning herself onto me. "Luke, Clementine, Wanda, Taylor, and Clove are my top five. "Wanda, huh" I hear Liz mutter to herself. I nudge her. "Gotta problem with the name Wanda?" Liz lets out a wide grin. "No, I think it's one of the most beautiful names ever. It's one of my favorites." One baby name down, then. I think to myself, "Glad we could agree." I peck the top of her head.

I see Liz thinking. "Do you believe in soulmates?" I open my mouth to answer before remembering how I felt for the longest time that Naomi was my soulmate. "Yes, I do. But I believe everyone has multiple soulmates. I believe I've met one already." I pause when I see Liz raise an eyebrow. "My ex." Liz frowns. "Don't get me wrong; I still think she is one of the worst people ever. But I wouldn't be where I am right now without her."

I watch Liz's pretty face think about what I said. "I completely understand what you mean. I feel like I've already met one or two of mine. I don't hate them. But you're right. I think meeting soulmates helps you on the path to your future soulmate. Hopefully, one who you want to share a life with."

"Couldn't agree more, Liz."

The movie has officially become background noise to us.

Liz giggles. "Do you believe in Zodiac signs?"

"Nope!" I say, popping the 'p' "Do you?"

"Only if they work."

"Okay. Let's see." I think about what to ask. "Dogs or cats?" Liz gives me a look. "Plants." I dramatically roll my eyes. "No sass, Coffee Girl!" Liz shames me as I watch her hand fall onto my knee, softly rubbing the area.

"Do you like your job?" Liz asks, rubbing my leg. "I do. It's nice. It's cool to know you're a constant in your regulars lives, as weird as that sounds. Also, meeting new people can have surprising outcomes." I pull Liz's hand up to my lips. "Plus, I make a pretty good ass coffee."

"Yeah, the coffee from your shop is better than some unpaid interns." I laugh at her matter-of-fact statement.

I think of a new question. "Oh, I got one!" Liz looks at me excited, waiting. "What was your gay awakening?" Liz's mouth drops. She was not expecting this. Liz crossed her arms. "Nu-uh. Next, please."

"Oh, come on! That's not fair. If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine!" Liz shakes her head no. "Come on. Is it super embarrassing? I promise I won't make fun of you! If I tell you, one of mine will tell me yours?"

"Maybe." That's the most I'm going to get.

"This is a judgment-free zone we're about to enter, right?" Liz uncrosses her arms, smiles, and squeezes my thigh, letting me know she's here for me. "Linda Cardellini as Velma in the live-action Scooby-Doo movies. Also, the Hex Girls in the animated Scooby-Doo movie!" I get out as fast as possible.

Wait, I'm seeing a pattern here.

Liz covers her mouth to push back a laugh I know she has in the chamber. I see the ends of her mouth curl up. "Is that why you're favorite color is orange?" There it is. I get up from the couch in shame. "Agghhh," I groan.

"Y/N, you know I'm kidding." I stop and pout away from Liz. "I'm sorry. You were being vulnerable with me! I'm sorry." I can hear her smile through her apology. Liz wraps her hands around my stomach and rubs. I instantly feel myself feeling better. How does she do it?

"So, are you gonna tell me yours, Miss?" "Maybe someday," Liz whispers into my shoulder. I know I can't get it out of her, so I pull my phone out, turning to Liz. Within seconds of opening Spotify, I put on Dancing Queen by ABBA. I place my phone on the coffee table before asking for Liz's hand to dance. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"  Liz curtsies. I take Liz's hand and pull her toward me. Chest to chest. My hand slides down to her lower back. "There's always a good time to dance, and who doesn't love ABBA." Liz follows my lead as silly as this dance is becoming. But she's smiling and letting herself have fun. That's what today was about.

"You know I did ballet for years?" I look at her, surprised. Why should I be? She's one of the most beautiful beings on the planet, plus she's a model, for god sake. "Care to bust out those moves?" Liz comedically shakes her head no. I push my forehead to hers, singing along to the lyrics. Liz looks into my eyes. "I can't believe this song is about you," I say to watch her emerald orbs roll.

_

Liz and I are both laying on the floor, letting the sweat take us over. After Dancing Queen, my playlist really did hit us with Lady Gaga, Kate Bush, Queen, Harry Styles, and many more artists, so we couldn't help but groove out. "That was so fun! I can't remember the last time I had an impromptu dance party." Liz says in between pants. "Correct, you are Chase. Correct you are." "Oh, shit, look." I peer up to see Liz point to Gone with the Wind. "It's over? Damn, I was just getting into it!" I don't need to see it, but I feel Liz rolling her eyes at what I just said. She needs to stop doing that. They're going to pop out one day. Liz crawls herself towards me. "Hardy har har." Liz positions herself above my face to face.

"Are you gonna kiss me or just stare? I've recently heard it's insulting to stare." I smile to myself for being such a smart ass. "Well, I wasn't going to kiss you, but since I don't want to be rude." Liz leans down and kisses me. I kiss her back, slowly picking up my pace. I feel her push harder against me. I hear a small moan escape Liz's lips when I come for air. I pull her face forward and attack her lips again.

Before I know it, I'm the one letting a tiny moan slip out the side of my mouth. Liz responds by moving herself on top of me, straddling me. Liz starts kissing down my cheek and neck, moaning, making goose bumps zap down my body. I feel her slightly under my hands as they start working their way up under her shirt. Her toned body feels so good. Is this all from gardening?

I moan into Liz's head as she reached my collar bone. "Fuck Liz" She keeps moving her body further down. Her hands are working their way up my chest. One hand softly brushing my neck. I go to remove her shirt but stop.

"Liz?" She looks up at me. "Yes, my Coffee Girl?"

"Do I have your consent?" Liz nods. Not good enough. "I need a yes, Liz."

"Yes, Y/N Y/L/N, you have my consent. 100%." Liz smiles and starts attacking my chest and body again. In response, I rip her shirt off her body and see what only my drunk eyes have seen. Oh my god. I left hickeys all over her chest too. Liz's eyes follow mine. "Like what you see?" Her bare chest with my marks? Yes!

I smirk. "I love it. Come here." I scoop Liz up, making her laugh as I carry her to the bed. I gently put Liz onto the bed. Within a second, she rips my shirt off as I kick off my shorts. Liz goes to remove her shorts as well, but I grab her wrist and put them above her head. "These stay right here. Okay, Miss? You gonna be good for me?" Liz nods. "I don't want to have to punish you." I wink.

I spread Liz's legs as I kiss my way up her body. I hear Liz whimper as I go past her knee and up her thighs. I look up at her eyes shut, lips puckered in. I keep going before stopping at her shorts. I hover my mouth over where clit is and wrap my mouth around the area. Letting my mouth soak her shorts. I suck in feeling her.

"Please take them off!" The model below me moans. I oblige, wrapping my fingers in the hands of her shorts. I slowly peel the shorts down her legs. Just as I thought. Liz isn't wearing any panties, and she's dripping for me. I look up to Liz, red in the face. "So naughty!" She groans. "Shut up and fuck me!"

"Oh, so is that really how we're going to do this? You've been warned, Chase." I back up and position myself off the edge of the bed. Liz looks a little confused before she realizes. I grab her legs and pull her towards me. Without warning, I dive my tongue straight into her clit, moving my tongue up and down as fast as I can, only stopping to harshly suck on her clit. Liz moans loudly explicits as I pick up speed. I feel Liz's hands grab onto my hair. I pull my mouth away and scold her, "what did I say? Hands stay above your head!"

Liz looks down at me, pissed, but obeys." Liz can't see my hands, so I take advantage and begin moving my index and middle finger over her folds. Her legs shake in response, and my fingers are dripping wet within seconds. "Do you want this baby?" Liz whimpers out something I can't quite make out. "I said do you want this?" I continue teasing.

"Y-Yes pleas-e!"

"Good girl!" I slowly slide my fingers in. The sounds escaping from Liz echo off the walls. "You're being so such a good girl!" I quicken my pace, placing my thumb on her clit, rubbing in a circular motion. I work my left hand up Liz's thigh stopping at her hip giving her a squeeze and a push. I run my mouth over her thighs and the top of pussy. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Liz go to grab my hair before stopping herself, gripping the sheets below her, balling them up in her hands' white knuckles and all. "Y/N- fuck baby- I-"

I decide to take my chances and add a third finger. "Fuck!!" She pushes her legs up towards herself, allowing me to position myself deeper into her."Go ahead, baby cum for me!" I watch as Liz gasps for air. Her mouth moves, but nothing comes out.

"Cum for mommy!" And just like that, Liz, let's go. I watch her green eyes roll back on her pretty pink face before they come back to look down at me. Her heavy breathing returns as she comes down. I softly slide my fingers out as I look back at her. I put my fingers up to my mouth, licking them. "So sweet." I wink at the gorgeous woman in front of me.

"Come here." Liz weakly lets out as her breathing begins to go back to normal. I oblige her by crawling up the bed to lay down beside her. I close my eyes and kiss her flushed cheeks. When I open them, she's staring right at me. Her eyes are holding in more than she's telling me. But it looks like pure love or lust.

Liz pulls herself into me. We are now stomach to stomach. Legs wrapped around one another. "So, how bad was it?" I huskily whisper. Liz smiles and kisses me "so bad I definitely didn't just have one of the best orgasms ever." I kiss her ear "damn, guess I better try again." Liz giggles. She has no idea how big of a grin I get hearing her laughter. "Maybe another time, Coffee Girl. I'm still recovering... ya know from how awful it was!" A smirk falls onto Liz's face. "Understandable." I lean in and kiss the girl I've officially fallen for.

_

I rub my eyes open, and to my disappointment, I'm alone in Liz's bed. "Liz?" Escapes my lips with a groggy tone. No response. I try again but louder, "Liz?" This gets a response because the bedroom door flies open with Liz on the other side, back in her t-shirt and shorts. "Coffee Girl!" She squeals, jumping onto the bed. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up!" Oh my God, what a fucking cutie this one is.

"I don't even remember falling asleep. How long was I out?" "Almost two hours," Liz says nonchalantly. My mouth drops. "Liz! Oh no! Today was our day! Why didn't you wake me up I-"

"Y/N. Don't worry about it! You look too peaceful and pretty to wake up. It also gave me time to answer my team and people in greater detail."

Oh, that's good. Right?

"Plus, I ordered us some dinner. I was going to make it, but I remembered what you said, and oh boy, you're right. I don't have any food! So come on, get up and dressed. If you want, that is." Liz winks and leaves me alone in the bedroom to freshen up and get dressed.

Once I'm done, I walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. "Jesus, Liz, it's only us two!" I say, shocked at the amount of Mexican food I see in front of me. You would think a house party is about to happen. "I know it's a lot! But I wasn't sure what your favorite dish was, so... tada!" Liz throws her arms out, shaking her hands. "You're such a dork! Thank you for this, Liz."

I look into Liz's eyes, seeing the care and love in them. I once again thank Liz for her thoughtful choice for dinner and be sure to shower her in kisses before I begin stacking my plate. I don't mean to, but I make a quick comment about food waste, but Liz assures me that won't happen.

I don't know where in the hell Liz got the food from, but it has officially become my favorite spot! I can't explain it, but it's like a five-star meal wrapped in that hometown Mexican restaurant your family loves. You know the one.

Liz and I finally finish our meal only after I made sure to thank her and tell her how much I love this place's food a hundred more times! Liz goes to take our plates, but I stop her from leaving the table. "You cooked, so I clean." "But I-" "I can't hear you, Liz. You're too busy not wanting to clean these dishes." I walk myself into the kitchen and put all the food away so Liz can have leftovers. After that, I begin to clean the dishes.

"Fine." Liz pushes herself off the dining room table, playfully pouting as she shimmies her butt to the living room, ensuring I'm not missing the show. I watch the beaut sit on the couch, turn to me give me a goofy smile before drawing her attention to the tv. I glance at Liz as she sucks her lips into her mouth; she appears nervous, scrolling through the TV.

_

I close the fridge door. Everything has been cleaned and put away. I smile to myself at a job well done. A job I haven't even done to my place in who knows how long. Sure, I tidy it up when I have Max come over, but nothing like what I just did for Liz's kitchen.

"Y/N?" I look at Liz on the couch with my phone in her hand. I tilt my head confused. "Yeah?" I carefully make my way to Liz. "You have two missed calls from Max." "Oh shit," I reply, worried and confused. It's not like Max to call me. I sit next to Liz as she watches me call Max back. On the screen, Liz has a movie called Martha Marcy May Marlene paused at the beginning.

After a couple of rings, Max answers.

M: "Dude, where the hell are you?"

Y/N: "At Liz's. Why?"

Liz looks at me curiously. I shrug.

M: "Dude, hello, movie night. As in tonight is the night you finally watch the MCU. Wait, did you, Liz!? You slut, omg!"

I slap my hand against my forehead.

Y/N: "Shit, dude, you're right. I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm in the city, and yes, Liz's! But I can be there."

Liz turns her head away from me and turns the TV off.

M: "Whoa, Y/N, if you're with Liz, this can wait!

Y/N: "Are you sure?"

M: "Hell yeah! But look, I'm probably just gonna chill at your place till you come home, that is if you do come home."

Y/N: "Yeah, that's cool. Once again, I'm sorry, Max, it slipped my mind."

M: "No worries. Just want you to be happy. Later whore."

Y/N: "Yeah yeah."

Max ends the call.

I close my phone and turn toward Liz. "Sorry that was-" Liz cuts me off. "I know. I heard. I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to steal you away from Max." The look in Liz's eyes is a look of guilt.

"Hey, don't apologize and say that. You didn't steal me away. I've enjoyed every single second with you. Even holding you while you let everything out this morning. I'm the one that lost track of time, plus Max is my best friend. They understand. So put the movie you were going to show me back on." I go to grab the remote, but Liz stops me. She places my hand in hers. Liz goes to speak but stops herself. Thinking about what to say.

"Y/N." I don't believe my name has ever been spoken as softly as it just was. "Look at me." Liz places two fingers under my chin and lifts them, so our eyes meet. "Earlier, I asked you for a day together—just one. And you've done way more than you even realize for me since then. I genuinely appreciate it." Liz clears her throat. "I thank you. I just want you to know that everything we said to one another remains. I do feel you and want to continue to feel you."

Liz looks away. I can feel the word coming.

"But." There it is. She turns back to me."Like I said earlier, I have a lot going on that I need to figure out before I want you to become more a part of my life."

What the heck does that mean? Does she see a future with me?

"So within the next couple of days, I'm going back to London." Liz sniffles and swallows the tears she's trying to keep in. "Before I leave, during my stay, and after, I want to be in contact with you. I don't want to lose any part of what we've built up till now. Yes, I know everything between us has happened super crazy soon, but I like it. I know, or at least I hope you feel the same Y/N. I'm not trying to say goodbye to you or anything; I am trying to make you understand."

A single tear falls from Liz's face. My hand instinctively wipes at the trail on her face. I listened to every word that dripped from Liz's mouth. A part of it hurts, but yes, I understand.

I cup Liz's face and pull her into a slow passionate kiss. Liz wraps her arms around my body as our lips part. "I understand. I do. A part of me doesn't want you to go, and I wish you could just tell me everything you have inside of you, but I can wait. I know that's what the underlying question is."

I push our faces together, feeling the tears fall from Liz's eyes onto my cheeks. "Okay. So this is super awkward now because we just said all of that, and now I feel like that's my cue to leave." Liz and I giggle at the obvious yet painful observation. "Let me help you get everything," Liz says, getting up and wiping the tears away.

Liz POV

Within what feels like a minute, I have a tote bag full of Y/N's clothes from last night, two Tupperware containers full of Mexican, and a fruit roll-up all packed up for her to take. "Are you sure you want me to keep this?" Y/N says, flaunting my t-shirt and now grey sweat shorts.

"Yes! I want you to be comfortable and have something to remember me beside the memories for now." I look Y/N over. "Plus, you look ridiculously hot in such a simple outfit."

"And here I thought you didn't want me." Y/N clearly teases, but it still stung just a little bit. I watch her slip on her vans and look around for her phone. "Already in the bag, Coffee Girl." I slip the tote over her shoulder and kiss her on the cheek. This fucking sucks. "Okay, as I mentioned, a car is already downstairs waiting for you. Just tell the driver where you need to go. Call or text me when you get home!"

I open the door for my girl. She, in her own sulky way, exits the apartment door. I grab her wrist and spin her around to face me. "Y/N, thank you so much." I pause. "I meant everything I said on the couch, okay? I feel you." A flush of pink shines over her face. "I know you did, Liz. You know everything I said and did today, I meant with my heart. I'll text you when I'm home." Y/N shuffles her feet to move but doesn't; instead, she plants a kiss of pure bliss. "I feel you too." With that said, I watch her walk down the hall and into the elevator, out of sight but not out of mind.

Y/N POV

As I reach the lobby, it hits me what a bittersweet moment this is. I exit the elevator, still lost in thought about everything with Liz, before I hear my name from a voice I don't recognize.

"Miss Y/N?"

I look up to see the doorman of the building. Does he know my name? "Yes?" I hesitantly ask. The man looks at me, confused. "I said I hope to see you again, Miss Y/N." That's when it hits me.

A very drunk Liz and I, hand in hand, enter the building. We walk straight past the doorman before Liz turns us around. "Mr. Madison, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Y/L/N, a special friend of mine."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N." Mr. Madison extends his white-gloved hand to me. I promptly take it and begin shaking his hand. "Just call me Y/N next time you see me." I realize I have yet to stop shaking Mr. Madiosn's hand. "I'm shaking your hand too long." I awkwardly let go and bid him farewell, following Liz into the elevator.

"Mr. Madison?" He nods. "Thank you for being so kind," I say to him as I exit. Once I step out, I am meant by paparazzi, but I realize they're not for me because why would they be? A rush of flashes goes off as someone enters the building. Liz lives here and is a model, so it would make sense that other people like her would too.

After watching the paparazzi do their annoying thing. I find the car and the driver Liz told me about. Miss Y/L/N?" I shake my head yes. I go to enter the car but first. "And you are?" The man smiles. "Mr. Bronson." "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bronson. Please call me Y/N." The man agrees and helps me into the car. Once he gets in the vehicle and routes us to my place, I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding. Mr. Bronson told me he texted my friend to let her know I was secure.

Throughout the drive, I made small talk with Mr. Bronson. I asked him multiple times to give me his first name, but he refused, not in a mean way, just in a nice formal way. It turns out he has a wife and two kids. I apologize for taking him away from them tonight. He calms my worries and says the amount he gets paid; he makes sure to make it up to his kids. I asked him if he was our driver last night, to which he replied yes. He said he made sure to give us privacy the previous night, so I embarrassingly got the picture of what he meant. Small talk is something I don't do anymore, so having it with new people is nice.

_

Liz POV

I returned to the couch after Y/N left. It hits me what a bittersweet moment this is. I'm beyond thrilled with everything that happened between us, but it hurts knowing it might be a long time till I can see her again. Plus, I still have to face everything I've been ignoring. I'm lost in thought about everything with Y/N.

My phone next to me lights up. It's a text from Mr. Bronosn telling me the package is secure. I chuckle and blame his son Billy for that phrase. A man as old as Mr. Bronoson should not be using that vocabulary. I send him a thank you text and ask him to ensure she enters her building without a problem.

I put my phone down on my coffee table and decided to distract myself with some trashy TV. I go to grab the remote, but a set of knocks from my door stop me. I cautiously make my way over, unlocking and opening the door.

"Robbie?"

Y/N POV

Not too much longer, and we're out in front of my building. Mr. Bronson opened my car door for me before I even had a chance to protest. He helps me out and makes sure I have everything with me. I thanked him for the ride, and he responded by giving me his card, letting me know that he'll be there anytime I need a ride. He waits until I enter the elevator of my building to leave.

During the ride up, I text Liz letting her know I made it home. I don't immediately get a response back, which saddens me a bit, but there's nothing I can do about it. The doors open, and I make my way down the hall to my apartment. Through the New York thin walls, I overhear Max playing one of her Marvel movies.

"What are you doing!?" I shout as I fling open my door, scaring Max and making her throw her popcorn in the process. Thank goodness I don't have a dog. It would be going to town right now. "WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N! I wasn't expecting you for a couple more hours!" Max walks up and hugs me before jabbing my arm. "Don't do that again!"

Max takes notice of my new outfit and tote bag. "Well, it looks like you really did more than spend the night. New clothes, food, and a tote!" Damn, putting the whole lesbians move to fast thing to work." I would go to argue, but Max nailed it on the head.

"Once again, Max, you're always right." Max throws up some finger guns and begins cleaning up the mess I made her cause. I put the food away and threw my dress from last night in the wash. Max finishes picking up the popcorn, throws it away, and sits herself down on my couch, making herself at home. "Come sit and tell me everything, Y/N!" I plop down next to Max and look at the TV. "Hold on. You're watching this one again?" Max looks up and sees what I see a guy in a black catsuit fighting a dude with a metal arm."Okay, I don't need your judgment. Besides! We were supposed to start on these movies tonight!" I roll my eyes. "Who's right! Come on, Y/N, say it!"

"You are." Max pumps her fist. "Always." Max grabs the remote, exiting this movie, and goes back to a film called Captain America: The First Avenger. "We are going to start from the beginning. We will enjoy this movie, and then you will tell me everything that happened with Liz! Everything."

_

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by the movie. I lost count of how many times I asked Max how they did the body transformation stuff. Also, I thought the guy named Stark's first name was Tony. But Max told me to wait. Whatever that means. I'm so sad about Bucky. Why did they have to do him like that? Max also told me the next movie isn't her favorite, but she loves Brie Larson, so since I'm surprising, not tired after a war movie, we decide to jump into it when I decide to check my phone for the millionth time.

Still no text back from Liz.

"Nothing?" Max asks. I shake my head no, and she leans closer to me. "Who knows, maybe she just fell asleep." I like Max's ability to look at things differently. "Now tell me everything before we watch Captain Marvel!"

_

I do just that. I tell Max everything. I tell her about the bits of the night I can remember. The hickeys. The garden. The missed phone calls. The movie and dance party. I brush over the details about Liz and my sex romp because that's for me. I tell Max about dinner and more.

When I finish, Max just looks at me, stunned. "What?"

"The whole time you talked, you had the biggest smile on your face. You've fallen for her! Haven't you?" I blush, and Max sees it. "Oh my God!! My freaking Y/N finally got back out there and gets the one! This is amazing, Y/N. Tell me her name again; I wanna stalk her Instagram."

"Elizabeth Chase."

Max gives me a smirk and raises an eyebrow. "You serious?" I give her a look right back. "Yes?" Max goes back to her phone, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Okay."

"Let's see. Private account. Private account. Fan acc-." Max stares at her phone, frantically scrolling. "Oh shit. That's why!" I turn to Max, very confused. "That's why what?"

"That's why she looked and sounded so familiar at the coffee shop! Oh my god. I can't believe this. My heart-"

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" I try to look at Max's phone, but she moves it away from me. "What did Liz say she does again?" A worried look grows on my face. "Model." "And she has a sister named?" "MK." "Y/N. You have zero idea who you just spent all day with."

Max hands me her phone. That one article I saw this morning is staring at me.

ELIZABETH OLSEN LEAVES NY RESTAURANT WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN DAYS AFTER LEAVING SET OF THE DOCTOR...

"Okay?" Max scrolls down the page for me. I see Liz and I, hand in hand, walking into a car. I get hit by a wave of information.

The articles.

The calls.

Her job.

London.

I scroll down the page and start reading the actual article.

"MCU star Elizabeth Olsen seen exiting a NY restaurant with a mysterious woman in hand. Earlier the same day, the pair were seen leaving a state park. This news comes days after Olsen was seen exiting the London set of the Doctor Strange sequel distraught. No one knows when Olsen arrived in NY, but it's clear she arrived alone. Only today was Olsen's fiancé Robbie Arnett seen at Heathrow Airport. Rumors have been flying around Olsen and Arnett for a while now. Is this the end? Who's this mysterious woman? For up-to-date information, be sure to stay subscribed to our newsletter."

I stay silent, holding Max's phone. The rage and hurt I'm feeling is one I haven't felt in- since-

I eye Max, tears pooling in my eyes. "She lied, Max." I whimper out. Max doesn't catch it. "Dude, you're dating the Scarlett Witch!" "Max." Max doesn't hear me. "Omg, she's like top 5-"

"She lied!" Max turns to me, stunned. Max softens her body. "Y/N..." I open my mouth, which has suddenly become dry. "I'm sure she had her reasons" I glare at Max. "Max, she lied about her job. She's engaged! She lied about her fucking name!" I get up and start rushing to put my vans on. "Dude, what are you doing!?"

"I'm going to talk to her. I want her to explain herself." I open my phone. My messages are still sitting on DELIVERED. "She hasn't even fucking opened my text!" I begin snapping at Max. I know this is unfair, but I can't let this happen again. "Y/N, just stop and-"

"Max, I love you. But I can't." I say through gritted teeth. I grab my phone, wallet, and keys. "I'll be back."

I close my door and sprint down to the elevator. Luckily my neighbor Miss. Jones was getting off, so I didn't have to wait. I pull out my phone and call Mr. Bronson, asking him to pick me up. It turns out he doesn't live too far and would be happy to take me back. Thank God.

While waiting, I decided to send a text to Liz. Elizabeth? Lizzie, or whatever the fuck her character's name is called.

"Olsen. We need to talk."

Part 7

[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 <-

[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!

[queerprayers]

I’m struggling with my faith right now for like.. ideological, ethical reasons. Even though I know loving Jesus=/=cosigning everything my fellow christians do its just been rough. I havent prayed in some time, theres this distance thats awkward to make steps to mend. I miss that feeling I had before when I was super certain of my faith, its hard to rebuild it.. I’d like it if you pray for me, cuz I feel like you’d get where I’m coming from

I do get where you're coming from, beloved. You've been in my prayers. I'm so sorry it's been so long.

It's understandable and even necessary to be cautious of what other Christians do and believe, it always has been. There will always be people who abuse in the name of religion, and with ideas as big and diverse as the ones Christianity has, there will always be some who hold harmful ones. I commend you for thinking and dealing with these issues--it is much better to struggle on this subject than to ignore it.

There is no perfect community. Any communal belief or action with our fellow humans can and will result in harm. Any political group, or organization, or even book club, has the capacity for conflict and harm. The bigger a community or set of beliefs is, the more capacity for harm. We cannot let this prevent us from living in community with each other, though. We cannot hold out for the perfect group of people--there isn't one. We also have to be careful of the urge to leave everything and create our own community. "Well, my local communist group has some problematic people in it so I'm gonna start my own." "Someone in my religion is racist, so I'm gonna start my own." This isn't how we build community. It can be necessary, but it should not be our first choice.

Everyone has a line with this. Everyone has to investigate current harm and problematic people/organizations and past mistakes and make our own decisions. There are bigoted people who attend my church: for some people, this would be reason enough to leave, I know that. And someday I probably will--I do hope to attend a more affirming church in the future. But what do I do with the community I've been given while I'm a part of it? I extend a welcome to broken, flawed people, and try to help them heal. This is my choice, and not one anyone should be forced into, but I do believe it's my duty.

You have to find your line. You have to decide what communities are worth trying to change, and which should be abandoned. You have to find the courage to leave, or the courage to stay--both are hard.

Re: your other point: rebuilding a relationship with faith is complicated. I would urge you to remember a few things. I completely understand missing what you had, but you don't have to get back there. You might not be able to. You will hopefully regain some of things you had, but you'll also probably end up somewhere completely different. You had that certainty, and now you have this struggle, and wherever you'll be next, you'll bring all these things with you. Don't be discouraged if your faith doesn't look it did before. It doesn't have to and maybe it shouldn't. Grow past this struggle, don't go back to before you struggled. Don't pretend you didn't experience this. This matters, as much as it hurts. Don't rebuild exactly what you had, because it's probably not where you will flourish now. Build something bigger, something more able to handle this struggle. If our faith falls apart (which is natural and even necessary), it means we need something. If we keep rebuilding the same thing over and over, we shouldn't be surprised that it isn't strong enough. Even if it was right for us at one point, it isn't anymore.

An awkward distance from God is so real. It's like ghosting a friend: is it weird to respond to this text four months later? It's also like me with my inbox: well, this ask wishing me a happy Ascension week is still unanswered. What do I do now? The answer, in both cases, is: yeah, it might be weird, but reaching out is the right thing to do. If you haven't prayed in ages, it can be scary, and it feels like there's no way to bridge that gap. I have some good (and also maybe scary) news, though: you are the same distance from God as you've always been. Sometimes I use the language of being closer to/farther away from God, but what I think I mean is, how aware we are of God, and how close to God's will for us are we. Because the truth is, we can't run away from God. There is no distance. God is in us, around us, with us. I believe you--you feel an awkward distance, and you can't feel God with you. But God doesn't feel that. Unlike the friends I ghost, God doesn't feel a distance, or awkwardness. They miss talking with you, but They're right there. You just have to say hi (if you'll forgive the informality of that advice).

Anyway, this may be a bit much for one prayer request, I think. But my point is: where you are is familiar to me, and so I know you can move on from it. God is there, exactly where They were when you felt close to Them. Here's my prayer for you:

God, keep this person close. Help them feel your presence; bring them back to you. Hear their prayers, even if they're awkward or distant or halting. Grant them the patience and forgiveness to be part of community. Give us all the courage to repent of our religion's sins, and the ability to do the work of reconciliation and rebuilding. Amen.

<3 Johanna

P.S. If you need a place to start, go to the Psalms. They've always been there for me. They've got a particular desperation to some of them that I'm partial to.

[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.)

[nova-stardragon]

You can call me Nova :)

She/they/Fae/Nyx - proud pansexual that doesn't know what to do with her hands anytime ever 👌 19 year old college student Discord: ElegiacEphyra#0410

Find me on AO3! I write Cazriel one shots (a lot of them) and a few other ACOTAR related tings <3

Gave up bringing things over to tumblr - maybe someday I'll try again. Links that say "chapter 1" or "tumblr" will take you to a tumblr post. Links that say "AO3" will take you to the entire fic on AO3.

Open to requests although I make no promises :)

Master list <3

Key to my chaos here: [MCD] = Major Character Death [S] = explicit, smut probably [F] = fluff <3

Cazriel one-shots

You Work Too Hard [F] (Tumblr) (AO3) Sick fic - Azriel gets sick and collapses, but luckily Cassian is there to take care of him <3

It Can't Be Him [MCD] (AO3) Azriel is reading the list of deaths to check for his friends names. Only problem is, he finds one. Cassian's.

I whacked his ass [S] (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (AO3) Azriel is pushing himself too hard. Cassian decides to intervene, dragging him and his whackable ass to bed, where he decides to help Az ~relax~

Hold my hand [F] (AO3) Cassian gets injured in the war, and Azriel comes find him to comfort him

Azriel x Reader One-shots (Tumblr Only)

Random Azriel Fluff (written for a discord server)

Dress shopping (was going to be more, but I gave up)

If Only You Knew Chapters Read on AO3

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Just a fun little story about fairies being gay. Someday I'll write a better summary, but for now, this is all you get <3

Morrigan x OC (Kaida), Cassian x Azriel, and Helion x Lady of Autumn (Aurelia).

If He Hollers Read on AO3

One fated day on a mission, a cat decides Azriel is her new owner. Several years later, she's playing matchmaker, and throwing him into situations he doesn't want to be in the middle of.

Elain x Lucien x Azriel (Elucriel?) fanfic, with lots of shenanigans, angst, and (hopefully) wholesome serotonin inducing moments <3

All The Stars We Steal from the Night Sky Read on AO3

The world is changing. The Fae watch as it ages, and slowly, realize they need to change too. Some go into hiding. But Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, decides hiding isn't for him. What he wants is to step into the bright, whimsical colored lights. After centuries, it begins to get tedious. The lights begin to dull, the spot light looses it's appeal. Then, he meets Feyre Archeron, runaway and misfit. And suddenly, the lights are bright again.

Read also: circus Feysand AU :)

[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...