#in your queue shall burn

[burncdheart]

@ancientforgcd asked: "Say, why don't we carry on this delightful conversation over a cocktail?" -Kiana First Meetings Sentences, Vol. 3 - always accepted

Was she the only one who found this conversation everything but pleasant? This could come from her lack of wanting to interact with people. Her master had told her to stay away from strangers, they all would just take her into a world of despair with their perfectly waved lies.

The thought alone caused her to shake her head forcefully in order to ban his words into the depths of her mind. Hopefully so deep back that those words would choke out and never resound within her anymore. What a pain. Even after she finally gained freedom, he was this speck of annoyance she didn't need at all.

She sighed after a while - she had promised to try and be nicer to people. So perhaps, she should just accept. "There is a tavern with a lot of cats around, I heard in mixed drinks just like cocktails they got the best in Mondstadt.".

[burncdheart]

“Oh please. Do I look like I’d step this low? I'm certainly no thief!”, she claimed rather loudly, while waving with her right hand as if swatting away some invisible bug away. Hadn't she already agreed, she might have declined right in this moment. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, eyes scanning the woman in front of her from head to toe as if trying to find any signs of traps.

The ginger wasn’t naive, there were those who’d ask for help without needing such. However, she decided quickly that there was nothing to be concerned about right in this moment. So she finally moved by standing up from her seating place, hands patting the wine red cloak in order to knock off any dirt from it.

While not minding such, appearance still held a great importance to her. “So, ma’am. Care to tell me a bit more about it? Like, what exactly are we looking for? Y’know, can’t do stuff without really knowing what this is all about.”.

“If it is too much trouble then there is no need to assist me.” 

Perhaps she had misunderstood the current situation. It’s clear that the other party is not especially keen on assisting her. It is a small enough issue she can resolve on her own. There is no need to involve someone that doesn’t want to be involved. Though it would be quite troublesome to do it on her own. It is not a particularly noble thing to do, but perhaps she could incite the other into helping her.

“Of course, there is also the possibility that you might have stolen it. Though, I presume I am wrong.”

Beryl narrows her eyes slightly. Perhaps her approach ought to be less manipulative and more sincere, but it’s important for her to get her belongings back in her possession. She can give details once she’s secured the other’s cooperation. 

“Regardless, I would appreciate your assistance in this small matter.” 

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out. 

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly. 

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?! 

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?” 

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again. 

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick. 

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word. 

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.” 

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!” 

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago. 

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.” 

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!” 

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?” 

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!” 

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.” 

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer: 

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns. 

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin? 

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie? 

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie. 

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me! 

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl, part 2

Well, I managed to churn out part 2 of this! Take that, flu >:) Anyways, read part 1 here

I listened to the rest of the class with a single ear, so busy with plotting our next move was I. Mrs Cheng was going to want to take revenge for my little ploy, and that meant I had to keep on my toes. Things were going to get significantly more dangerous.

Dane, fool boy that he was, had taken it upon himself to become the teacher's pet, a deadly thing to do when the teacher in question was Mrs C. All through the day, I cursed him as I watched him present neatly written equations to Mrs Cheng with glee. It was a small mercy that she had no knowledge of our relationship, for my sanity and for his safety, and suspected naught of him.

As the bell rang and we were released, I shot her a mocking bow and strolled out the door. Soon as I was out of sight, I grabbed Dane's elbow and sunk my nails into his soft flesh. “You idiot,” I hissed in his ear.

His wide prey-eyes met my narrowed ones. “What did I do? Training today wasn't that bad, was it?” When my glare did not let up, he batted at my hand. “Kat, let go, please. I don't know why you're so pissed with me, but you're going to draw blood! So unless you want my mom to have some very awkward questions, you have to stop.”

I glanced down at my hand, with its too-long fingers and too-sharp nails. “Tch,” I said. “You nearly got yourself killed with your antics just now. And all the not-terrible training in the world isn't going to be enough when you end up going toe to toe with C.”

“C? You mean Mrs Cheng? Wait…” Realisation dawned on his broad features. “Oh shit. You gotta be kidding me, right? It's her?”

I barked a laugh at that. “Yes, Dane. It's her. Her and about a quarter of the school faculty. So think twice before you draw any more attention to yourself, understand? You're not nearly ready enough to fight one of them.” 

Biting his lip, Dane nodded. “I'm sorry, Kat. I should've thought things through more. Can I get you an ice cream to make it up to you?”

His inanity brought a smile to my face. “Don't apologise to me, silly. I'm not the one who's in danger. But yes, I would love to have an ice cream. Shall we try the gelato place that just opened up?”

He pulled out his wallet and made a show of noting how little there was in it. “You're going to drive me broke, Kat. These cafes are overpriced, you know. The convenience stores work just fine,” he whined.

I tapped him on the nose, and replied, “When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life, little Dane.” Besides, I thought grimly, I had upset the things running the convenience stores a tad too much to be comfortable eating something from there.

We walked, hand in hand, down the noon-burning street, and I could not help but revel in the heat. Truly, global warming was doing me a favour. Dane did not share my views, sadly. He leaked rivulets of sweat, fanning himself with a piece of paper and he strolled next to me.

It appeared we were not the only ones to crave icy relief, for the cafe was brimming with people munching on artisanal gelatos and sipping iced tea. There was only one person at the counter, a gorgeous woman with hair that fell in auburn waves and overalls that proclaimed her to be an employee. I slipped through the doors and pulled Dane behind me. Without them ever quite noticing, the customers parted around me, and I snuck my way into the front of the queue.

Without turning around, the woman manning the counter chirped, “Hello and welcome to Jelly's Gelatos! How can I help you today?”

I put on my best smile. “Oh, I'd like two scoops of chocolate gelato, please! In a cone. And two scoops of… Matcha, wasn't it? Also in a cone,” I said, winking at Dane as I did so. Matcha was his favourite flavour, and it had always delighted him when I remembered that, so I made the effort to. Indeed, he brightened up when I made his order correctly, and squeezed my hand appreciatively.

Smoothly, the woman scooped out our order. “You two make a cute couple,” she said as she did so. “I didn't know you liked little boys, Katherine.” My uniform had no name tag on it, and neither did anything I carried.

Ah, shit.

I tensed up, sliding into a fighting stance. “How the hell do you know my name?” A protective hand on Dane's shoulder, I leaned in to peer closer at her.

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. Eyes like burnished copper met mine, her pupils just a tad too elongated to be normal. Her hair was down, but I had a suspicion that it hid pointy ears. “Don't you recognise me, Katherine? I'm disappointed,” she purred. 

That voice was familiar, and not in a good way. I'd met her kinden before, men and women too beautiful to be purely mortal, the children of unholy unions. They were never up to any good. “You should be,” I replied, baring my teeth at her. “Don't expect me to remember the name of every random person I come across.”

The insult stung, as it was meant to, and she thrust my order under my nose. I took my chocolate and handed the matcha to Dane, who accepted it cautiously. “You think you're so high and mighty, Katherine? You've made too many enemies, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets you,” she snarled, her pearly white teeth stark against blood-red gums.

I rolled my eyes in my best approximation of a rebellious teenager. “Sure, like, whatever. I'm so frightened by random minimum wage workers,” I jeered. “C'mon, don't expect me to quiver in my boots at you. You're only scary to the children of helicopter parents who point at you as an example of what happens when you fail your exams.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“So close, but no cigar, sweetie,” I replied. “And I don't think that's the proper way to treat your customers, is it? No tips for you.” Picking up a handful of change from my pocket, I dumped it onto the counter. “Toodles!”

On that cheerful note, I pushed my way back out into the sunny sidewalk. Dane followed like a lost puppy, looking increasingly concerned. “What was that about? That woman looked like she was gonna kill you!”

I shrugged. “Get used to it, kiddo. Everyone wants me dead. And when they find out about you? Well, you can bet they won't want sunshine and warm hugs.”

[subiysu-chan]

A Pyroxene Drow fairy tale

Once upon a time, when we still lived on the surface, lived a good mushroom grower, who lost all her entire family save for her son, who she raised to be as hard-working, kind-hearted and intelligent as herself. And he was. One day, an evil spirit who took immence pleasure in the suffering of mortals. The better these mortals were, the more pleasure he took in tormenting them. One day, after a hard day of chopping and pressing the fungi for conservation, they ate a few fresh ones they kept to celebrate the harvest. With a clean concience and full stomach, they said their prayers, did their daily penitence and went to sleep. But when the boy went to fetch the pine-needle mats, they caught fire, reducing the small bit of comfort to ash and burning the tip of his fingers. The mushroom mother went to fetch some fresh water from a nearby fountain, but the same evil spirit had tainted it, so anyone who will drink it can no longer find any soothing, be it natural, aided or magical. Yet, the day had been hard, their throats parched and his hands burned, so they had no other choice but to drink the entire pitcher. The poor boy wept, and his mother comforted him with those words : "Cry not, for pain helps us keep on the straight and narrow." before giving him her own head rest. They then tried to sleep, but the evil spirit kept waking them by disrupting their bodily magnetism, making them float against their wishes, sucking away their life force and dropping heavy stones next to them, when he wasn't creating a false hail of stones, making them think they were stoned to death while not giving them a single scratch. Yet, exhausted by their ordeal, they finally found some sleep, but during their rest, the evil spirit reduced their hard work to ash. The unfortunate mushroom grower put her head in her palsms, in distress of the calamity that had fallen upon her. "We must do something, otherwise we will starve. -We have nothing to work on anyways, so how about you get some sleep. It will make us all the wiser." comforted the boy. After some hours of sleep, the mushroom grower woke up. She scrapped for rané and gathered berries around her house, while her son went to the houses of various lords to find work. She put on the meekest face she could muster, and thinking he won, the evil spirit showed himself to her. He was hideous to look at, but worst was his iron aura that almost made her mad from it's intensity. She could endure it without sobbing but she chose not. "Such a pretty song you have, woman." mocked the demon She faked humiliation and "clumsily" hid her crotch, which made the demon laugh further. "Oh, do you really enjoy seeing me like this so much ! she exclaimed -I can't deny it. I want to see your son like that too. -Well, I can't give you my son just like that, he's my only help. If you enjoy seeing us suffer so much, I think your pleasure will be cut short from us starving to death. Give me ten pyroxene gems, and I shall give you my son." In truth, the good woman had no intention of selling her son, but she did take the pyroxene gems. They were the most well-polished, purest ones she saw. She went close to the queue in front of a lord' house where she found her son waiting, and explained what happened. At first, he was angry, but that was because she didn't tell him her plan. Instead of buying new pata che or seeds directly, she purchased new stones to repair the growth station, as well as an entire bag of spores. She then went to talk to a priest of Môterus, and asked him about the evil spirits. "See, good child, a creature such as this does not tolerate salt. However, I cannot let you have some directly, since it will prevent rané from growing properly and we will suffocate. Rané however, is salty enough that once blessed, it can repel them." explained the priest. After that day, she was still left with six pyroxene gems.

[burncdheart]

Mildly she rose her eyebrows as an answer to his words. Doubt clear in her facial expressions, as if saying a silent 'yes, sure'. Taru withheld speaking out those words loudly, knowing that he would just deny it anyway. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the puppy again and nuzzled with it. Confused over why it wagged it's tail so much as she did so, but even more concerned over Amadeus.

Had she said or done anything wrong? Did she indeed worry too much this time?

"You should sleep then.", she spoke with a hushed voice, slow realization kicking in, of how drowsy she felt herself. A yawn escaped her throat.

"We both probably should...", Taru added softly.

@burncdheart asked:

She's poking her boyfriend's cheek, "You look so pouty.". Though said in such her usual, serious manner, she can't help but think that it does indeed look rather cute on him. { to Ama, because of the conversation of him getting pouty because of their dog c:< }

Unprompted - Always Welcomed ~

"I'm not pouting", he says, while doing just that, Amadeus puffing his cheek against the finger that is poking at his cheek, a slight hint of pink starting to appear in his cheeks as his mind caught onto the fact that she'd caught him so easily. Lazily, he ran his fingers across the back of the small puppy that laid by their side, a sigh heard as he nuzzled more against Taru's side. "...maybe I'm just a little tired...". He was not going to admit that he was jealous over a dog of all things...

[bearyeet10]

Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

All what we need is to survive the war and be safe. We are trying to secure the daily basic living necessities and this can come true with your contribution and support. Please don't spare this moment of supporting the people in need in Gaza in this tough and dire time. You can help us by either donating however small it is or sharing my posts. Your support makes a big difference for families in need.

Have no money Idont but share I shall after brain covesations with THEM.

[burncdheart]

@diverse-hearts-ocs asked: “Okay so, would you rather not sleep or not eat for the coming seven days?” - Oei torture starters : deprivation - still accepted

Eyes of azure blue stared at the woman as if it was her who was mad. Well, she was and there were no questions asked about this. Taru was aware of the things she had done to Amadeus, of the things he had to endure and life through for more than thousand years. So she knew that Oei was absolutely dangerous and that it was more than just inconvenient that she fell right into her hands. Whatever she had tried had failed in assisting her to get away too, which just added to her frustration.

"It doesn't matter what I choose, you will just either choose the other thing, both or none of them at all.", oh how meak her own voice resounded from her throat, like she was the little child she once had been. The child who thought that her family abandoned her in the deepest and cruelest parts this world could offer - the abyss where madness, darkness and monsters reigned.

She had been there, so why would this woman think that the lack of sleep or food would bother her? Taru had lifed like this for a long time - only sleep when her head started to see imagines that did not exist and only eat whenever she was close to being unable to move from hunger. Anytime else would just be a waste and bother her in her tasks.

As annoying it was, it was probably the best to just try and get her into some, little and useless conversation. If there would be somebody coming to save her. Which annoyed her even more, because obviously she wouldn't need it! Well, perhaps she did need some litle aid here after all. "In the end you're surely not even interested if I'm alive or not anyway, aren't you? You're just waiting until Amadeus comes here and tries to save me. Perhaps, you even promise him that I'd come free if he returns to you? Honestly, it would be sad if he would fall for that, but its hard to think on what is going on in his head."

[gh0stiiephrenia]

Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

All what we need is to survive the war and be safe. We are trying to secure the daily basic living necessities and this can come true with your contribution and support. Please don't spare this moment of supporting the people in need in Gaza in this tough and dire time. You can help us by either donating however small it is or sharing my posts. Your support makes a big difference for families in need.

I shall share your post and spread the word, its the best I can do, may you be safe and have hope, the future is bright even times of suffering my friend

[birkalembindil]

FLOWS, FLOWS…

The heart flows, water flows, day flows, night flows, flows, flows... So much so that graceful life, adorned with ever new hopes, flows within, flows...

For the past three or four days, the fuel station adorned with flags near the city's last intersection on the Ankara-Istanbul highway had seen a decline in its usual bustling customers. Vehicles scattered from east to west, west to east, to all corners of the world, would surely queue up at the pumps again one day.

In the absence of customers, the staff had been assigned to clean every nook and cranny. Except for İrfan Gündüz, the gas station attendant who had been suffering from kidney pain that started on the second day of the holiday and had been writhing for a week. He had just turned fifty. Previously, he was also a tradesman. Unfortunately, now he was waiting for his retirement at someone else's door. He had ignored his only daughter Ayşe's words, "You are sick, Dad. Please don't go to work. I'll take leave and take care of you," and rushed to his job. His colleagues had taken him under their protection and allowed him to rest in a corner with the advice, "Keep your eyes wide open, and don't keep the customers waiting!"

He didn't know how many nights he hadn't slept. His illness had left him with no strength, draining the light from his eyes and the strength from his knees. Although the sun hadn't risen high yet, it had already started sending its significant hot rays. Fortunately, he managed to reach the pump without keeping the owner of the high-end, latest model vehicle waiting. As he approached the majestic black rock that defied nature on the hills of his village, its grandeur was intimidating. The black car also looked enormous to him, so he stepped back.

Emel Sayın's crystal clear voice echoed from the car with its doors and windows closed. The bitter cry of the song's lament was enough to engulf the surroundings. Although the lyrics "Rain down water, my God, until I'm covered in flames, until I'm burned, until I'm quenched" didn't soothe hearts, the soul-soothing holiness of the music was good for the petrol station attendant. That is why he remembered the fairy-like girl with blue eyes, who radiated kindness and was not yet twenty-three. The sieve-maker could imitate the nightingale-voiced artist beautifully.

"Welcome! Shall we fill up your fuel tank, sir?"

"No, no. Just give me one hundred and fifty lira's worth. Excuse me, where is the restroom?"

"Turn left after you enter the market, sir."

When the gas station attendant looked around, there were no vehicles coming or going, nor any friends in sight. The black giant beside him was constantly changing roles. Sometimes it shrank like a fleeing mouse, and sometimes it came at him like a wounded tiger. He had about three and a half years until retirement. He most wanted to see his daughter get married.

After providing the fuel, he wanted to walk around the car and do some small cleanups. The vehicle was as clean as if it had just come out of the factory. He changed his mind.

He had prepared the receipt for the customer. People from Ankara loved holidays. They would return to the capital only a day or two before schools reopened. Never mind, the attendant used the lull in business to recover. He started work at eight in the morning and finished at eight in the evening. To get one day off per week, he had to work until midnight twice a week. The previous month, two hundred lira found to be counterfeit was deducted from his account in one go. He had spent a lot on this Feast of Sacrifice as well. By the middle of the month, he had already incurred a debt of three hundred sixty-five lira. Most of the money had been spent on his illness.

 "Hey, I used to get thirty-two liters of diesel for one hundred and fifty lira. Did the fuel prices go up? Why did you give me twenty-eight liters this time? I don't understand."

"Diesel? Did you say diesel?..." 

The saddest part of Emel Sayın's song had begun. "As life leaves the body, rain down water, my God, rain down water, rain down water!" Before he could say someone wanted water and someone else diesel, the gas station attendant collapsed on the spot.

"Run, the man has fallen! Is there anyone?"

The station's rules for employing workers were clear. The most explicit and non-negotiable was that if the wrong fuel was put into a vehicle, all costs would be charged to the attendant, who would then be sacked.

"You've ruined my car! I'll make you pay dearly for this!" The driver's anger was growing in the large station. Those who ran to the noise saw one person standing by the pump, clutching his head in his hands and seemingly mad, while another lay on the ground, staring skyward like a motionless wooden mannequin. They hurriedly moved the black vehicle to the back of the station. The man's anger was unabated. Besides the cashier woman, who was in tears next to the fallen attendant, there was no one else: "My brother, my father, please open your eyes. What will I say to your Peri then?"

The mournful siren of the ambulance heading to the station faded away after it took the attendant. The next morning, those who saw the sign "Attendant Wanted" noted the phone number to inquire about the working hours and salary, unaware of what had happened the previous day.

Where life ends, sighs and regrets flow, lawsuits flow, prayers flow, longings flow, memories flow, forgetfulness flows, flows, flows... Then the heart flows again, the water flows, the night flows, flows, flows... So much so that with hopes always fresh within, delicate lives adorned with budding roses flow, flow, flow...

[if-seal]

Dear Marketing Friend,

A follow-up on this post: I received an additional message from a helpful reader of this blog with a variety of suggestions, some of which I cheerfully agreed with and others which I did not so much. I shall respond to and explore a mixture of both below.

I do not believe it is important to spend a lot of time designing a blog. Reading on phones, on a Tumblr dashboard if we are speaking of Tumblr blogs, or on an RSS feed if we are speaking of blogs in general, will render all that work invisible. Yes you should have a profile picture and a little bio that says who you are and what you are doing, but if you are not much of a graphic-design person who enjoys creating more complex art I would advise you to concentrate on your writing instead.

That said, "your writing" is not limited to the project itself and certainly includes the ways in which you share information about your game.

It is eminently sensible to have a pinned post including easy-to-read information about your game and the places where you can learn more about it and play it.

It is also a good exercise to get used to summarising your game in 2-3 snappy sentences that say something about what makes your game interesting. When you are sharing things about your game, call back to this. You do not have to use those exact sentences all the time but keeping them in your mind will make it feel more natural to tell people about what's exciting about your game in a way that's easier for them to understand.

You will find that posting on a regular schedule is likely to result in more interest in and questions about your progress; this does not have to be constant activity of course, and do not burn yourself out, but it is more beneficial to have a post twice a week for three months than the same amount of posts crammed into a couple of weeks and then nothing. That's where creating a queue of posts will be useful to you.

Please do not chase trends that you don't love in the hope that you will hit a lucky jackpot. It is wonderful to be inspired by others but there is no guarantee that a similar concept to a popular game will go viral. Games take a great deal of time to make: ensure you are writing something you feel fully on board with and passionate about, and you will be able to showcase and share that passion with others.

I am not an expert in marketing in any way but I have been in hobbyist and commercial interactive fiction circles for many years and believe the most important showcase of your skills is your project, the story within it, and the way you refine and develop it over time. Of course we all see beautiful graphic design and thrilling character posts sometimes getting big flurries of engagement but it is creating and sharing the game itself that will bring you the most satisfaction and will keep an interested audience coming back.

It can be a major time and energy drain looking at popular people's work and trying to determine some manner of secret recipe from them. Their marketing methods may have contributed towards their popularity, or it could be something entirely different: you cannot know whether correlation equals causation and you'd be better placed concentrating on what you are writing.

Finally, this is a very small world - a niche subsection of interactive fiction as a whole - and while it is not exactly a singular "community", my opinion is that those within it do not have to be in competition with one another. There was a tone in the message I received that made me wonder if the sender thought otherwise. But I believe that a rising tide can lift all boats and if you consider yourself to be competing with other writers for attention or even money, it will make you miserable. If you find some interactive fiction that makes you happy, and you tell others that you like it, it can help everyone involved. If saying this makes me a somewhat naive seal, I am at ease with that.

Best wishes to you, Marketing Friend, and I hope your writing goes well!

Do you have any advices on marketing?

Dear Marketing Friend,

One of the things I would say is to not be afraid of blowing your own trumpet.

I confess I am no expert in marketing, and this area of game-writing is a particuarly small and interesting one; things I see advised for creators of non-text-based indie games or even visual novels do not always apply, and nor do things I see advised for book authors.

But I would say the first step is not to feel embarrassed or ashamed about talking about your work. Cast aside the fear that it's annoying! If you have a social media presence related to your writing, people are following you because they're interested in your writing!

Also: it may feel like you are constantly talking about your work being out. But unless you are someone whose work has gone wildly viral while in development, and/or you've had vast sales success, not enough people will know about it. Even the latter is no guarantee that people have heard about it.

That said! It is also worth engaging with other people's work - not for mercenary marketing reasons but because reading other work in this sphere will help you develop your writing skills, and perhaps that will help you connect with your peers as well.

I do think that if you are new to sharing this kind of writing, or if you have a current unfinished project and are starting a new one, it is wise to share some of your work upfront rather than getting excited and announcing a project that does not get off the ground.

This is for your own peace of mind if nothing else: I do not say it to cast aspersions. I have seen plenty of people talk about the difficulty of having an unstarted project get a lot of attention and then realising they need more time than they hoped or that they do not actually want to make the project at all. That's a very hard situation to be in but it is an avoidable one.

The happy side of that is that if you have something to show, it is much easier to show off! Let your light shine and don't hide it.

On a practical level, I recommend writing your materials in advance and queueing them to be posted, and perhaps making a spreadsheet or list of when your next post needs to go up. Being prepared makes it much easier, especially if you have regular types of posts that go up each week or fortnight for example. Otherwise it is very easy to lose track and get burned out on the whole thing.

One last thing: there is a temptation to share a lot about one's own life when marketing and while that suits some people well, please do not put yourself under pressure to do so. And do not feel that you have to do huge amounts of customer service or extra writing in order to make a good piece of interactive fiction.

Make a piece of work that you feel proud of, talk about it, and show it off: those are the things that I think are best focused on.

[bluecadash]

In Your Heart Shall Burn: The Elder One

[chercept]

tag drop!

[coquetteladyofthedeadmensworld]

Girl at the ticket booth for the funhouse: Sir, horses are not allowed in this area. And can you please stop shouting?? You're scaring all the kids in the queue -

James II: LET ME THROUGH!! YOU HAVE ALL BEEN PROMISED COMPENSATION FOR YOUR HOMES!! YOU HAVE BEEN PROMISED COMPENSATION BY YOUR KING!!

Meanwhile -

Guy dragged onto and now trying to have fun on the carousel: Huh?! When have real horses been allowed here and why are you dressed like that?!

His girlfriend: They're... They're not -

Charles II: I WILL NOT SEE MY CAPITAL BURN!

Guy: CAPITAL?!

Dryden: Jemmy, IS THAT YOUR FATHER?!

Monmouth, hiding his face: NO!! I can assure you, I've never seen that bloke before in my life -

Rochester: *too busy dying of laughter videoing this to comment*

Samuel Pepys: *creating a new diary entry about this*

James II: Charles please no one is cooperative right now!

Charles II: People, we have no choice, this is an emergency! You must give up your houses!

People on the rollercoaster: *confused.com* LMFAO!

James Francis Edward: IS THAT DAD?!

James Francis Edward: Damn, I'm embarrassed for him.

Louisa Maria Teresa: Yeah, me too.

Person running the rollercoaster: ONE NORMAL DAY AT THIS JOB IS ALL I ASKED FOR -

Charles II: No one should panic! Homeless people will be compensated and hungry people shall be fed! We will rebuild this great city!

James II: *near tears*

Godolphin, John and Sarah: TF?!

Anne 2.0: IN FRONT OF THEIR GRANDSON AND GREAT-NEPHEW?!?! SERIOUSLY?!?!

George: William sweetheart, why don't we go over there and look at the arcade? *Steers his wife and son away from this circus*

Charles's and James's mistresses: *hide in the arcade and look pretty hoping this will soon be over*

Shrewsbury, the Bentincks, Villiers and Keppel: *buy popcorn at the nearest food stall to enjoy the show*

James: We do not wish to see anyone in this position but if we only act for ourselves, we will all suffer - *sees George* George, what are you doing, just milling about? There is danger here!!

George, who has returned from the arcade: Guys...

Theme park workers: *prepared to knock these men out*

George: Boys, please...

George: This is a theme park. You're going to get kicked out.

*Silence falls across the park*

Charles II: Wait, you mean there's no fire?! We've done all of this for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING?!

George: *sighs* Yes *Gives camera The Office stare*

James II: *Bursts into tears*

Police officer who was summoned to the scene: Both of you are under arrest for terrorising fungoers and workers alike in this fairground.

Charles II: NOOOOO!!

James II: *Full on howling*

Horses: *Whinny in confusion*

Rochester: I could put this into my mf poetry b-.

Dryden: WRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN!

Samuel Pepys: Goodness me, this is an entry if I ever saw one!

Monmouth: *is away off to escape. Tries to hide his embarrassment by chatting to girls at the water rides:

Anne Hyde, Maria and Catherine of Braganza: *on the Ferris Wheel, watching this performance go down*

Anne: Why are our men like this...?

In the arcade hours during the aftermath...

William III: *downs a cider*

Govert Bidloo: *also downs a cider*

William Henry Gloucester, very innocently: What's happening, guys? Why did Grandpa and Great-Uncle Charlie get arrested?

Mary II ,Anne Villiers and Anne 2.0 in unison: Oh nothing darling.

William Henry Gloucester: But how did they think there was a fire??

William III: *hands over his newly bought fruit juice*

William III: This is what happens when you do drugs kid.

Conclusion: The Stuart Brothers go to prison for harassment of innocent civilians and unlawful interruptions of workplace after George called the police. Sunderland conveniently goes to prison for drunk driving too. The remaining Stuart Family all apologise to the rest of the theme park and help reorganise and rebuild with little William helping too. Charles and James are deemed wasted and are therefore no longer allowed into any theme parks.

Oh, and Dryden and Rochester wrote more poetry based on this very eventful story:

The End

Call me insane from watching The First Churchills and The Great Fire (which I only view for fit men and nothing else) but once I imagined a scenario where Charles and James were out thinking they were fighting a fire but it was actually a theme park and nothing out of the normal was happening, everyone was just having fun while the Stuart Bros were riding about screaming about how they would promise compensation for homes at confused bystanders who were just trying to enjoy themselves wondering why two men in weird old-fashioned outfits are trying to blow up the funhouses! Then they got arrested. 😭😂🤣

[burncdheart]

@diverse-hearts-ocs asked: “  are you sure you’re okay?  ” - Rai

“It’s just a scratch.”, the female stared down at said wound. Eyebrows knitted together for half of a second, before she hid the limb behind the fabric of her wine red cloak. It was unusual for a Hilichurl - out of all monsters in this world - to lend a hit on her. Much less if their only weapon were their sorry attempts of hitting somebody with their claws. The scratch trailed along almost her whole arm and the pain was a sharp sting that wouldn’t stop from bleeding. Perhaps, it wasn’t ‘just a scratch’ after all - but who were she to admit such a thing?

People of Mondstadt worried too much anyway!

“Keep it a secret and I’ll give you a treat.”, if she sat at Angel’s Share already anyway, she could order this boy some food or something to drink - as long as he’d stay silent over this injury.

[goddessseal]

[Anna’s Talking:: Better tags! Yay!]