#i will not be doing a live blog read through this time dont worry gamers

[he-wrote-that-one-song]

reading another matthew stover star wars book and I continue to be obsessed. the opening of this one is luke hiring a pi to investigate him for war crimes and idk what's going on but I'm HOOKED

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link :)

A/N: Hey guys! I know this is my marvel blog but since this is all posted on my AO3 account, I thought I’d post this here too in case anyone was interested in reading it! For my fellow gamers here’s my completely self-indulgent Red Dead 2 Arthur Morgan/Reader fic literally no one asked for even tho i have all my bucky wips to work on still, pls dont murder me. So yeah do with this what you will :)

{gif not mine!!}

Summary: “It’s a yeet or be yeeted world, and you refuse to be the latter.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: time traveler!reader, accidental time travel, angst, fluff, attempt at humor, ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, eventual smut, because i have absolutely no self control when it comes to arthur morgan, of course imma ravage him at some point in this fic and vice versa, meaningful friendships, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending, more tags on AO3

Prologue

For a moment, you think you're dreaming.

White brightness blinds you, your senses are muted and all is quiet, its just the core of you that lives in the center of your being throbbing through nothingness. The light fades only when the heaviness of matter begins to settle like an iron blanket over you, wrapping around your soul and pulling you from the void, manifesting you into the solidness required of the present. Color seeps in to stain your vision, swirling into the outlines of things and smearing horizons above and below you. It takes a second for anything to be recognizable, for consciousness to drive you.

A silent winter forest solidifies in your reality, a pocket of powdery snow cradles you from the frosty wind as it weaves like a giant invisible snake through the gaps between the trees. You uncurl from a fetal position once you get your bearings only to wince at the ache in your body as you slowly push yourself to sit up. Warmth oozes from your pores as your naked body jerks itself into spasms trying to loosen the chill that grips your spine and holds a fist of pressure just behind your lungs. From the ground, you look up at the towering snow-laden pine trees that surround you in a perfect impossible circle. 

The densely packed forest contrasts sharply with the negative space of the clearing that you sit dead center in, like you were dropped straight from the sky. There is no disturbed snow or any signs of movement within the forest line. The air is crisp and clear and empty of snowfall. The sheer unnaturalness of it all disturbs you to your core, making you shake harder as you wrap your arms around your body and rock yourself gently in attempt to curb your panic. Clouds are heavy with the blizzard brewing inside them as you gaze at the grey overcast sky searching for answers that aren't there. The trees seem to peer down at you and shiver with suspicion -- an arm of fresh snow slides off a low fanning branch somewhere behind you. Intruder is what the wind whispers as it laces through the pines’ thin green needles, the ancient residents of the forest hushing a word of caution to each other as the warning rustles its way across the mountain range. The wood seems to shift about you then, violently breaking its previous stillness as the wind grows stronger, like a great beast awakening. Unease settles heavily on your shoulders as the forest -- the world -- suddenly quiets again and...snow begins to fall.

It's then, with snowflakes tangling in your lashes and the white clouds of your breath swirling like smoke in front of you, that you realize you are far far from home because something is different. The trees look like trees, the snow looks like snow, the cold feels cold, but its off. Something is different. Elementally. Atomically. The esoteric wisdom that hovers between stars, that connects constellations, that lives cold and old within the tapestry of everything, stalks the very matter around you, suffocates you. And call it fear or call it instinct, call it a combination of both, but you know. You know that you have transcended into something far beyond your comprehension, stumbled onto a fated path you could not possibly fathom.  

--

When the wolves come they bring a man with them.

He's bloody and half dead and fighting. The savagery to stay alive is infectious as it takes hold in the harbor of your heart and gives you the necessary push you've been waiting for. Your survival instincts surge and boil under your skin as you and the man run in a collision of panic and confusion up out of the forest and into the jaws of the exposed glacial cliffs. The wolves leave you to your fates at the edge of the forest, knowing you'll either come back down eventually or die up here. Either way you become a meal.

The man grunts through his pain as you climb higher and doesn't acknowledge you struggling to keep up a few feet beside him. You chose to run with him when he burst into your clearing and you chose to stay with him after escaping mostly out of instinct, a raw part of you that was ripped from ancient genes belonging to a creature of survival more than that of a human urging you to do so. You knew sticking together was your best chance.

But once the spiked adrenaline born of the danger that the wolves brought fades, the man stops dead in his tracks and directs the fight in him at you -- another obstacle for him to face in order to survive. You forget to cover yourself but you do squat slowly to the ground after a beat of tense eye contact, the snow numbing your lower body as it touches the skin there. This display was also instinct -- to make yourself small. The shivering gets more violent as you're submerged in deep snow, but you worry about when the shivering will stop. The man who fought the wolves and lived sees you, truly sees you, and with his mind still locked in survival mode, John Marston registers you as -- Doe. Prey. Ally. Safe. You sense the moment he decides you aren't an enemy, you see it shift something in his eyes. He turns away.

Without words -- incapable of words -- you both work your way across the blizzard scorched cliff side. You eventually find a secluded patch of ground semi-sheltered from the wind by the cliff face looming behind it and stop there to rest. After a while, you notice the man is unable to get back up from where he laid down. He tries to heave his body up, groaning and screaming and gritting his teeth but is ultimately unable to continue on. You sense none of the fight he had in him earlier, in fact you feel him let it go as his body goes lax beside you and he lets out a soft broken sob. At the time it didn't even cross your mind to leave him, to keep going to try and find help or a way back down. You simply settled down next to him, not touching, not talking, and slowly froze to death together.

--

At some point you stopped shivering.

You stopped feeling limbs.

The man eventually left himself, fell into a coma of pain, mind thrown somewhere deep within his subconscious.

You left yourself too, you think. You don't remember much from that time, and that's what you tell them whenever they ask you about it. All you knew was muted emptiness, but different from the one that brought you here. And when Arthur and Javier find John next to a mostly dead naked woman, they have as many questions as you do when you wake up.

--

So I just spent the last 72+ hours playing through Red Dead 2 (bc sleep is for the weak and the emotionally stable), and I'm rolling up to the RDR2 fandom a distraught wreck over Arthur Morgan. So. Yeethaw.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

[illbefinealonereads]

Today, the Don’t Read the Comments blog tour is stopping by illbefinealone reads. Keep scrolling to learn more about the book, as well as read an exclusive excerpt.

Don't Read the Comments Eric Smith On Sale Date: January 28, 2020 9781335016027, 1335016023 Hardcover $18.99 USD, $23.99 CAD Ages 13 And Up 368 pages

Slay meets Eliza and Her Monsters in Eric Smith’s Don't Read the Comments, an #ownvoices story in which two teen gamers find their virtual worlds—and blossoming romance—invaded by the real-world issues of trolling and doxing in the gaming community.

Divya Sharma is a queen. Or she is when she’s playing Reclaim the Sun, the year’s hottest online game. Divya—better known as popular streaming gamer D1V—regularly leads her #AngstArmada on quests through the game’s vast and gorgeous virtual universe. But for Divya, this is more than just a game. Out in the real world, she’s trading her rising-star status for sponsorships to help her struggling single mom pay the rent.

Gaming is basically Aaron Jericho’s entire life. Much to his mother’s frustration, Aaron has zero interest in becoming a doctor like her, and spends his free time writing games for a local developer. At least he can escape into Reclaim the Sun—and with a trillion worlds to explore, disappearing should be easy. But to his surprise, he somehow ends up on the same remote planet as celebrity gamer D1V.

At home, Divya and Aaron grapple with their problems alone, but in the game, they have each other to face infinite new worlds…and the growing legion of trolls populating them. Soon the virtual harassment seeps into reality when a group called the Vox Populi begin launching real-world doxxing campaigns, threatening Aaron’s dreams and Divya’s actual life. The online trolls think they can drive her out of the game, but everything and everyone Divya cares about is on the line…

And she isn’t going down without a fight.

Buy Links: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Read-Comments-Eric-Smith/dp/1335016023 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-read-the-comments-eric-smith/1131303425#/ Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Dont-Read-Comments/Eric-Smith/9781335016027?id=7715580291810 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/don-t-read-the-comments Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335016027 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Eric_Smith_Don_t_Read_the_Comments?id=Go6PDwAAQBAJ

Eric Smith is an author, prolific book blogger, and literary agent from New Jersey, currently living in Philadelphia. Smith cohosts Book Riot’s newest podcast, HEY YA, with non-fiction YA author Kelly Jensen. He can regularly be found writing for Book Riot’s blog, as well as Barnes & Noble’s Teen Reads blog, Paste Magazine, and Publishing Crawl. Smith also has a growing Twitter platform of over 40,000 followers (@ericsmithrocks).

Author website: https://www.ericsmithrocks.com/ Twitter: @ericsmithrocks Instagram: @ericsmithrocks Facebook: @ericsmithwrites

Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary

Rating: 4/5 stars

Review: Don’t Read the Comments tackles some heavy subjects, cyber bullying as one of the main ones. But it’s done beautifully, and though the subject matter is that way, it didn’t make me feel heavy while I was reading it. Eric Smith does an absolutely marvelous job at writing from a first person female POV. His excellent writing style, as well as the pace that perfectly suited the story, made the book unputdownable. I really enjoyed the characters. They felt fresh as they were developed excellently. The dialogue is excellent, it felt natural and flowed really well. All of it put together kept the book feeling dynamic, and entertaining throughout. This is a read that you definitely shouldn’t skip.

Excerpt:

1 Divya

Mom. We’ve been over this. Don’t read the comments,” I say, sighing as my mother stares at me with her fret­ful deep-set eyes. They’re dark green, just like mine, and stand out against her soft brown skin. Wrinkle lines trail out from the corners like thin tree branches grown over a life­time of worrying.

I wish I could wash away all of her worries, but I only seem to be causing her more lately.

“I’m just not comfortable with it anymore,” my mom coun­ters. “I appreciate what you’re doing with…you know, your earnings or however that sponsor stuff works, but I can’t stand seeing what they’re saying about you on the Internet.”

“So don’t read the comments!” I exclaim, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. Her palms are weathered, like the pages of the books she moves around at the library, and I canfeel the creases in her skin as my fingers run over them. Bundles of multicolored bangles dangle from both of her wrists, clinking about lightly.

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asks, giving my hands a squeeze. “You’re my daughter. And they say such awful things. They don’t even know you. Breaks my heart.”

“What did I just say?” I ask, letting go of her hands, trying to give her my warmest it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. I know she only reads the blogs, the articles covering this and that, so she just sees the replies there, the sprawling comments—and not what people say on social media. Not what the trolls say about her. Because moms are the easiest target for those online monsters.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that sign in your room with your slo­gan regarding comments,” Mom scoffs, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She groans a little as she pushes herself off the tiny sofa, which sinks in too much. Not in the comfortable way a squishy couch might, but in a this-piece-of-furniture-needs-to-be-thrown-away-because-it’s-probably-doing-irreversible-damage-to-my-back-and-internal-organs kind of way. She stretches her back, one hand on her waist, and I make a mental note to check online for furniture sales at Tar­get or Ikea once she heads to work.

“Oof, I must have slept on it wrong,” Mom mutters, turn­ing to look at me. But I know better. She’s saying that for my benefit. The air mattress on her bed frame—in lieu of an ac­tual mattress—isn’t doing her back any favors.

I’d better add a cheap mattress to my list of things to search for later. Anything is better than her sleeping on what our family used to go camping with.

Still, I force myself to nod and say, “Probably.” If Mom knew how easily I saw through this dance of ours, the way we pretend that things are okay while everything is falling apart around us, she’d only worry more.

Maybe she does know. Maybe that’s part of the dance.

I avert my gaze from hers and glance down at my watch. It’s the latest in smartwatch tech from Samsung, a beautiful little thing that connects to my phone and computer, controls the streaming box on our television… Hell, if we could af­ford smart lights in our apartment, it could handle those, too. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m., which means my Glitch subscribers will be tuning in for my scheduled gaming stream of Reclaim the Sun at any minute. A couple social media notifications start lighting up the edges of the little screen, but it isn’t the unread messages or the time that taunt me.

It’s the date.

The end of June is only a few days away, which means the rent is due. How can my mom stand here and talk about me getting rid of my Glitch channel when it’s bringing in just enough revenue to help cover the rent? To pay for groceries? When the products I’m sent to review or sponsored to wear—and then consequently sell—have been keeping us afloat with at least a little money to walk around with?

“I’m going to start looking for a second job,” Mom says, her tone defeated.

“Wait, what?” I look away from my watch and feel my heartbeat quicken. “But if you do that—”

“I can finish these summer classes another time. Maybe next year—”

“No. No way.” I shake my head and suck air in throughmy gritted teeth. She’s worked so hard for this. We’ve worked so hard for this. “You only have a few more classes!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this.” She gestures toward my room, where my computer is.

“And I can’t let you work yourself to death for… What? This tiny apartment, while that asshole doesn’t do a damn thing to—”

“Divya. Language,” she scolds, but her tone is undermined by a soft grin peeking in at the corner of her mouth. “He’s still your fath—”

“I’ll do my part,” I say resolutely, stopping her from saying that word. “I can deal with it. I want to. You will not give up going to school. If you do that, he wins. Besides, I’ve…got some gadgets I can sell this month.”

“I just… I don’t want you giving up on your dreams, so I can keep chasing mine. I’m the parent. What does all this say about me?” My mom exhales, and I catch her lip quivering just a little. Then she inhales sharply, burying whatever was about to surface, and I almost smile, as weird as that sounds. It’s just our way, you know?

Take the pain in. Bury it down deep.

“We’re a team.” I reach out and grasp her hands again, and she inhales quickly once more.

It’s in these quiet moments we have together, wrestling with these challenges, that the anger I feel—the rage over this small apartment that’s replaced our home, the overdrafts in our bank accounts, all the time I’ve given up—is replaced with something else.

With how proud I am of her, for starting over the way she has.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.”

Deserve.

I feel my chest cave in a little at the word as I look again at the date on the beautiful display of this watch. I know I need to sell it. I know I do. The couch. That crappy mattress. My dwindling bank account. The upcoming bills.

The required sponsorship agreement to wear this watch in all my videos for a month, in exchange for keeping the watch, would be over in just a few days. I could easily get $500 for it on an auction site or maybe a little less at the used-electronics shop downtown. One means more money, but it also means having my address out there, which is something I avoid like the plague—though having friends like Rebekah mail the gad­gets for me has proved a relatively safe way to do it. The other means less money, but the return is immediate, at least. Several of the employees there watch my stream, however, and con­versations with them are often pretty awkward.

I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, I’d get to keep this one thing. Isn’t that something I deserve? Between helping Mom with the rent while she finishes up school and pitching in for groceries and trying to put a little money aside for my own tuition in the fall at the community college… God, I’d at least earned this much, right?

The watch buzzes against my wrist, a pleasant feeling. As a text message flashes across the screen, I feel a pang of wonder and regret over how a display so small can still have a better resolution than the television in our living room.

  THE GALAXY WAITS FOR NO ONE,

YOU READY D1V?

—COMMANDER (RE)BEKAH

  I smile at the note from my producer-slash-best-friend, then look up as my mom makes her way toward the front door of our apartment, tossing a bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back around ten or so,” Mom says, soundingtired. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” I promise, walkingover to give her a hug. It’s sweet, her constant reminders to be careful, to check in, especially since all I generally do while she’s gone is hang out in front of the computer. But I get it. Even the Internet can be a dangerous place. The threats on social media and the emails that I get—all sent by anonymous trolls with untraceable accounts—are proof of that.

Still, as soon as the door closes, I bolt across the living room and into my small bedroom, which is basically just a bed, a tiny dresser, and my workstation. I’ve kept it simple since the move and my parents split.

The only thing that’s far from simple is my gaming rig.

When my Glitch stream hit critical mass at one hundred thousand subscribers about a year and a half ago, a gaming company was kind enough to sponsor my rig. It’s extravagant to the point of being comical, with bright neon-blue lighting pouring out the back of the system and a clear case that shows off the needless LED illumination. Like having shiny lights makes it go any faster. I never got it when dudes at my school put flashy lights on their cars, and I don’t get it any more on a computer.

But it was free, so I’m certainly not going to complain.

I shake the mouse to awaken the sleeping monster, and my widescreen LED monitor flashes to life. It’s one of those screens that bend toward the edges, the curves of the monitor bordering on sexy. I adjust my webcam, which—along with my beaten-up Ikea table that’s not even a desk—is one of the few non-sponsored things in my space. It’s an aging thing, but the resolution is still HD and flawless, so unless a free one is somehow going to drop into my lap—and it probably won’t, because you can’t show off a webcam in a digital stream or a recorded sponsored video when you’re filming with said camera—it’ll do the trick.

I navigate over to Glitch and open my streaming application. Almost immediately, Rebekah’s face pops up in a little window on the edge of my screen. I grin at the sight of her new hairstyle, her usually blond and spiky hair now dyed a brilliant shade of blood orange, a hue as vibrant as her personality. The sides of her head are buzzed, too, and the overall effect is awesome.

Rebekah smiles and waves at me. “You ready to explore the cosmos once more?” she asks, her voice bright in my computer’s speakers. I can hear her keys clicking loudly as she types, her hands making quick work of something on the other side of the screen. I open my mouth to say something, but she jumps in before I can. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on mute once we get in, shut up.”

I laugh and glance at myself in the mirror I’ve got attached to the side of my monitor with a long metal arm—an old bike mirror that I repurposed to make sure my makeup and hair are on point in these videos. Even though the streams are all about the games, there’s nothing wrong with looking a little cute, even if it’s just for myself. I run a finger over one of my eyebrows, smoothing it out, and make a note to tweeze them just a little bit later. I’ve got my mother’s strong brows,black and rebellious. We’re frequently in battle with one another, me armed with my tweezers, my eyebrows wielding their growing-faster-than-weeds genes.

“How much time do we have?” I ask, tilting my head back and forth.

“About five minutes. And you look fine, stop it,” she grumbles. I push the mirror away, the metal arm making a squeaking noise, and I see Rebekah roll her eyes. “You could just use a compact like a normal person, you know.”

“It’s vintage,” I say, leaning in toward my computer mic. “I’m being hip.”

“You. Hip.” She chuckles. “Please save the jokes for the stream. It’s good content.”

I flash her a scowl and load up my social feeds on the desktop, my watch still illuminating with notifications. I decide to leave them unchecked on the actual device and scope them out on the computer instead, so when people are watching, they can see the watch in action. That should score me some extra goodwill with sponsors, and maybe it’ll look like I’m more popular than people think I am.

Because that’s my life. Plenty of social notifications, but zero texts or missed calls.

The feeds are surprisingly calm this evening, a bundle of people posting about how excited they are for my upcoming stream, playing Reclaim the Sun on their own, curious to see what I’m finding… Not bad. There are a few dumpster-fire comments directed at the way I look and some racist remarks by people with no avatars, cowards who won’t show their faces, but nothing out of the usual.

Ah. Lovely. Someone wants me to wear less clothing in thisstream. Blocked. A link to someone promoting my upcoming appearance at New York GamesCon, nice. Retweeted. A post suggesting I wear a skimpier top, and someone agreeing. Charming. Blocked and blocked.

Why is it that the people who always leave the grossest, rudest, and occasionally sexist, racist, or religiously intolerant comments never seem to have an avatar connected to their social profiles? Hiding behind a blank profile picture? How brave. How courageous.

And never mind all the messages that I assume are supposed to be flirtatious, but are actually anything but. Real original, saying “hey” and that’s it, then spewing a bunch of foul-mouthed nonsense when they don’t get a response. Hey, anonymous bro, I’m not here to be sexualized by strangers on the Internet. It’s creepy and disgusting. Can’t I just have fun without being objectified?

“Div!” Rebekah shouts, and I jump in my seat a little.

“Yeah, hey, I’m here,” I mumble, looking around for my Bluetooth earpiece, trying to force myself into a better mood.

This is why you don’t read the comments, Divya.

  Excerpted from Don’t Read the Comments by Eric Smith, Copyright ©2020 by Eric Smith. Published by Inkyard Press.

[moonraccoon-exe]

I'm so sorry, summer flew by and I can't believe it's almost September. :c But I'm glad to hear you're doing well, that's fantastic news!

*SOBBING*

IRIDAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! IT’S YOU AGAIN!!!!

*GLOMPS AND STAYS HUGGED TO YOU*

HM~!!!! ( ˙꒳​˙ )♡

FLOUR, HEWWO AGAIN!!!! IT’S SO NICE, IT’S SO GOOD, IT’S SO WONDERFUL AND CUTE TO SEE YOU AROUND ONCE MORE IWASNERVOUSTHATYOUJUST DIDN��T WANT TO TALK TO ME ANYMORE AND IWAS LIKE KASJDFKDLG LAKDJAD AAAH, BUT THEN YOU DROPPED BY AND SAID HI AND I SAID HI AND THEN YOU SAID HI AGAIN AND I’M 

SO HAPPY

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FLOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRR!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ

*STAYS HUGGED TO YOUR HEAD*

I’VE MISSED YOU LOTS, BUDDY!!!

Let us continue under the keep reading, okay? c:

That’s okay, Iridae! Real life happens and sometimes we’re just not in the mood for blogging, or any other reasons, so I truly understand!! Sometimes I do have the time to answer but prefer not to and do other things, if I’m honest. So I totally understand that summer flew by without you noticing! Especially summer, aah, you were free of routine I guess? So of course you would take it and do other stuff!! 

No worries, buddy, I’ve missed you a lot, a lot, a lot, and wondered where you had gone, but I didn’t want to pressure you or anything, because as much as I miss you I could also wait for you whatever it takes! I’m so happy to hear from you again ( ˙꒳​˙ ) ♡

GASPS

You got to travel!!! And see old friends!! FLOUR, BUDDY, THAT IS PHENOMENAL!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ

Traveling is one of the things that does best to the heart and soul, it makes you grow and learn and experience and that’s what life is supposed to be about! And getting to see old friends, that just adds so much, much, much more to the wonderful experience! Traveling, art, and friends make life so beautiful and if you have those in your life, even if just every now and then, then you’re living correctly

I’m SOOOOO, SOOOOO, SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HAPPY TO READ ALL THIS, IRIDAE, THIS IS WONDERFUL NEWS!!! I’m so, so, SO happy for you, buddy, I’m happy to know that you’ve been travelling and seeing friends and watching movies and everything. It means you’ve been mostly good, I assume? And having fun. That makes having waited for you so worth it, buddy, at least now I know that all the meanwhile as you were quiet you spent living life as you should and having fun :3

And you watched Christopher Robin!!! That is WONDERFUL! :D

Personally, I haven’t because I feel that it’s going to make me cry so much ahahaha ;w; Ever since I played XV, and it may sound exaggerated, but truth is that after it I noticed I’m TERRIBLE at handling all this “let go of the things you love” thing and I feel that I’m going to bawl my eyes out when Christopher goes back to seeing his friends (not sure what the place where Pooh lives in is called in english), and they welcome him back and haven’t forgotten him despite the decades in between and when he has to leave agAIN AND AKLSJFLAKDJG LKADGJAKLDGJ

I CAN’T 3

But I’m so, so, so, SO VERY HAPPY to know that you watched AND liked it!! :D Despite feeling like it’d make me cry, it does look like a very beautiful and very heartwarming movie, so no wonder you liked it so much!! :3

OH!! I hadn’t heard about Odin Sphere, so I googled it and it looks interesting! RPG, isn’t it? It looks sorta like something Kemco would do, etcetera. I bet it’s INCREDIBLE and lots of fun! o(>ω

Playing older games is AMAZING, there are SOOOOO many that are SO BEAUTIFUL. It wasun’t until two or three years ago that I first played Tales of Symphonia (a game…for Gamecube!!), and I love to go to this “mall” of sorts of gamers and otaku stuff where it’s like old game haven and roam through them. Sadly, I don’t have many consoles so I’m missing out SO MUCH stuff, but I love going through older games the type of Gamecube, Nintendo 64, etc. It’s in my plans to go see if I can grab Super Mario 64, lately I got a lot of nostalgia for it (and the Bomb Omb Battlefield theme, ahahaha), or see what other old game catches my eye :)

But I digress!

What I mean to say is, yes, playing older games but “new-to-me” is a wonderful experience, at least most of the times!! I’m happy it’s been a pleasant and wonderful experience for you too, trying out Odin Sphere. Sounds like a wonderful game and now I’m curious, as you said about the beautiful art and the engaging story hnhgfg. Glad to know you’ve been having fun with it!!!

AND READING IGGY AND THE BEAST!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*LOUDLY SQUEAKING*!!!! (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)♡♡♡

AKLSJFAKLDG JASKLFJA SLKGJ ASKLFJ AKLGJDKLAGJ AKLSJ FALKDGDGJS KLASDJ AKJGADG SO HAPPEH KALSJDKALDJGADKG YOU ENJOY ALJSDKLAJGKALDJGAKGJ THE FIC LKAJSDKLAJGALKDJG IGNIS AND AJKDLADGJADKLGDAJ CHAPTER 17 AND KALSJLKADGJKLDAGJ SKLG

*INCOHERENTLY SQUEAKING*o(>ω

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, FLOUR, I’M SO HAPPY TO KNOW YOU’VE BEEN ENJOYING OF THE FIC!!!! (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)

I’m taking so long to update and stuff, I’m scared even MORE people have dropped the fic (not to talk about the kaload of people who already dropped out of the fandom itself!!), so it really realyl really means a lot that you’re still reading and enjoying of it!! Aaah, I know I already thanked you in the last ask, but really, thanks a lot!! It means lots that you read and enjoy of it. I hope you’ll continue to enjoy of fuure updates, I’ve got lotsa plans for that fic still! o(>ω

SO YEAH

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, Flour, I’m SOOOOOOOOOOOO happy to hear from you again!!! Thank you so much for taking the time and effort to let me know how you’ve been and what you’ve been doing, thank you so much for dropping by to say hello again!! It made me so happy, it truly has made my week so pretty, you have no idea :’3 

I’ve missed you lots, so I’m really excited and so happy to be talking with you again, my dear friend, you sweet creature, you!!!!

Even happier I feel at the fact that you’ve been having a good time. As I said, having waited for you has been SO worth it knowing that everything has been okay and that you were missing because you were living life and having a good time doing so, traveling, meeting friends, watching movies, and playing games. That is SO wonderful. I dont’ doubt downs happened too, but that’s okay! You “look” radiant in a very pretty way to me (as in how I sense you through the computer, at least), and you told me about wonderful things, so that’s all that matters

I’m so, so, SO HAPPY for you, Flour, so happy you’ve been okay and having good times!!!

I’m hysterically happy for me because I get to talk with my buddy again, and so happy for you for all the nice stuff you’re telling me about!! It’s WONDERFUL, Iridae, I’m so happy for everything, you have no idea!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ

SO YEAH

Thank you so, so, SO dearly much for telling me how you’ve been, I’m rolling around on the good news like they’re oxygeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen

And thank you for being as nice and as radiant as a flower as always, my dear friend! I definitely missed you and feel so content of seeing you around!!!

IRIDAE

ALL THE RACCOONIE HUGS FOR YOU!! The tighest, warmiest, fluffiest, most squishy, and FULL OF ABSOLUTE LOVE for you!! ( ˙꒳​˙ )

Thank you so much for being around!!!

I hope you’re having a MOST BEAUTIFUL day or night, my dear friend!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ