If You Get This, Answer With 3 Random Facts About Yourself And Send It To The Last 7 Blogs In Your Notifications,

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog :D

I got this from two people, @imaginativemind29new thank you, you lovely humans, I’ll give you six random facts to spread out the compensation.

1. If I don’t want to be found, I vanish. This could be because I am inside a dryer, or crawl space, or on the roof (I’m VERy good at blindfolded hide and seek). This also means sometimes people can’t find me even when they stand directly in front of me. Idk.

2. I cannot get cold. I used to be on a sports team that had us practice outside on the ocean, and it would be snowing at 20 degrees and I would be in a t-shirt and leggings. My coaches hated me.

3. I can and will get injured for no reason in the dumbest of ways (I’ve had three concussions, and the only bone I’ve broken is my skull, which barely counts) Hence the bruised rib. Do I know how these injuries happen? No.

4. I do not care for my own bodily health *see above* so I’m very good at theatre. Mostly because if I’m pretending to die, I will dead drop myself, and not in a safe trained way, in a “I am slamming my body into the floor so hard we’re verging on a fourth concussion”

5. If someone brings a package of dried seaweed snacks within ten feet I start vomiting. I can’t handle the smell, taste, or texture. Seaweed in all other forms is respectable.

6. People are afraid to give me matches. When asked for descriptor words that define me, they usually say “feral”

I promise I’ll respond to the tag games but I bruised a rib somehow

Character Pen Pals!

I was looking through some writing exercise ideas for myself earlier and came across one that was essentially to write a letter to someone. Then I thought how cool it would be to write a letter from OC to OC. But then!

What if we wrote letters as our characters to each others' characters?! It doesn't have to be physical letters of course (unless you're okay with that, then feel free to privately message whoever your pen pal is the address/P.O. box you want. I personally love getting mail and making fancy letters)

You can send people your letters in their asks (if they're okay with it) and they can answer with their own letter. Reblog if you want to participate and put in the tags whichever of your character(s) you want to send/receive letters with, along with a little bit of info about them to start. Feel free to ask people for more info about their characters if you need it. I'm sure they'd love to share!

it took a word document two days to load and open on my computer and during that time it told me to go fuck myself and also murdered my entire family

I want pasta

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! 💖 (From - @jtl-fics)

AHHHHHH!!! Off to spread love and positivity!

Find the word tag

Man, @oh-no-another-idea you gave me some tricky words! Thanks for the tag!

(I had to go to TWO different WIP’s for this lol, so it’s a bit long) as a byproduct, you get an introduction to one of my other WIP’s that I haven’t mentioned before. It only minorly has a name.

(The rain story. Scintillating title, I know)

He caught her arm and turned her to face him. “The rest of us stopped being teenagers a long time ago. The government sees us as adults, and so does the rest of society. And even if the rest of society doesn’t link us all together, the government does. So, you screw up, we all feel it,” He sent a look back at his bodyguards, and they disappeared. “It’s not just about you, Three. It isn’t about what you want, even if you’re the baby. This is about how we all make it out of this alive”

She made a disgusted noise. “Is this living though?” She gestured to the walls and bloodstained floor. “Murder, gangs, weapons that the government uses for its own gain. How is becoming the villain living?” She sent Lex a vicious glance. “That isn’t living, Seven, and I would have hoped you would know the difference after everything.”

He flicked his eyes over her face and shook his head. “There’s a big difference between alive and living, Three.” He heaved a sigh. “You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy it. The talents you have, your…Shall we say penchant for death—you can’t tell me you don’t like it. You cannot be that good, cannot cause that much chaos and death and fear and not relish it at the same time.” His gaze hardened. “I know this isn’t an easy life, but it’s the only one you have. The only one we have. So you need to pull it together. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for the people who bear the punishments for your screw-ups; us.”

She yanked her arm out of his hand. “Don’t you dare try and guilt me with that. I’ve been doing everything for the rest of you for my entire life, and I can’t do this anymore. When am I supposed to do things for me? Do you think I enjoy existing only as a façade? As a criminal, a scary story, an assassin? When do I get to be a person, not a weapon?” Her voice broke, and Lex looked away. She took his silence as an answer, and she turned towards the door, boots scraping against the concrete floor.

“And by the way,” She turned, hand still on the doorknob, “My name is Rain.”

(My siren story. Dunno if I want to disclose the name yet because yk. Copyright stuff, eventually.)

The sun beat down on Lucy’s shoulders as she walked across the deck of the ship. Above her, gulls shrieked relentlessly in response to the tolling of bells in the harbor of Valis.

The bells were a goodbye, fading as the winds and the waves pulled their ship further and further into the expanse of the sea.

Lucy sucked in a breath, saltwater burning her nose, then leaned down to untie a rope, fingers worming between the worn threads. The rope unraveled, and one of the sails snapped open above her, loud enough that she grinned, and one of the newer deck hands yelped quietly.

The deck hand blinked owlishly at her, a red flush spreading across the bridge of his nose—from heat or embarrassment, she couldn’t discern, and she glanced out in time to see the rising clock towers of Valis fade completely from view.

Fast winds, then. Her gaze snagged on a rush of fog flooding its way to kiss the edges of the waves, further obscuring the remnant edges of Valis, and she frowned. And a faster moving fog front.

The deck hand winced, and she looked back to find him looking between her lips and her eyes, as if trying to judge her mood from those two items alone. Internally, she grimaced.

Externally, she shifted to loosen her posture and relaxed her mouth so she no longer looked like she was going to kill this deck hand for flinching at the sound of a sail opening.

“It’s fine,” Lucy said smoothly, checking on the fog front out of the corner of her eye. It would slam into them in minutes, and then they would be blind.

Blind on open water, in a country where they were not always considered the biggest threat. Her crew was—but ignorance is a powerful shot of courage to those who wish to prey upon easy targets.

The deck hand shifted nervously.

“You’re new, right?” she continued, and he gave a sheepish nod. “What’s your name then, you.”

The deck hand blinked again, and she began to wonder if Elira had picked up another mute—fine in practice, but she was rusty with sign and was loathe to make another crew member feel alienated within their own home simply because of her inadequacy.

A moment later, the deck hand spoke, and she smiled at him.

“Aven.”

Lucy didn’t ask for a last name. This ship was a home, a haven, and a safe place. Sometimes being safe meant only having one name. Lucy didn’t disclose her last name either.

“Nice to meet you, Aven. You hailed from Valis?” The fog crept closer and she shifted on the balls of her toes. She really needed to go let Elira know about the fog—the rest of the crew was below deck. Normally, there would be more watchmen stationed for weather and threats. A whole division. And yet, here Lucy was, alone on the massive craft of wood, with Aven.

Aven scratched the back of his neck, and when he spoke, Lucy picked up a lilting accent. “No. Just got picked up through there—I traveled for a bit. Three weeks, bleedingly hot. I heard about a ship that took people who were willing to work in, though, so I made the journey.”

Three weeks didn’t narrow down the options of where Aven might hail from, but Lucy sensed he was being intentionally vague. Either a bad past, or a private person.

Both, she respected. Elira likely knew where he hailed from, and if Elira had adopted him into the crew, then Lucy was fine with it.

The back of her neck tingled, as if someone had blown into her ear and whispered ‘danger’.

Lucy snapped her gaze from Aven to find the fog reaching for the ship with expectant tendrils, like a young one reaching for something new it could demand and receive. The top of her spine tingled again, and her mouth filled with the taste of iron and salt.

If it was a normal fog, they would be alright. Sit dead in the water, watchmen manning the edges of the boat to ensure nothing struck them, and eventually the fog would pass.

This was not a normal fog.

“Salts,” she cursed vehemently, and she bolted for the captain's quarters, rattling down the halls so loudly she heard voices stop behind the doors she was passing. She heard Aven yell a startled query behind her, and then she slammed through the door of the captain’s quarters and let it hit the wall with a cacophonous rattle.

Elira looked up from an ink scrawled stack of papers, hand reaching for a dagger. The violence eased from her brows as she saw Lucy’s face.

“Lucy, love, we really must have a talk about your manners—” Elira began teasingly, and Lucy cut her off with a sharp breath, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Fog front incoming from the northern side. It's rolling off Valis,” Lucy strode to Elira’s desk to rustle through one of the drawers, hands scrabbling through meaningless stacks of compasses and daggers until she found what she was looking for. Her fingers hooked upon the cord, and she shut the drawer on the mess now spilling from it and thrust the object at Elira.

“We have protocols for fog. Let me just call the watchmen and we’ll get everything sorted,” Elira said with an air of confusion, and then her gaze dropped to Lucy’s outstretched hand and her voice stopped.

“You need to put this on,” Lucy said, fear riding its way up her spine. The taste of magic was stronger now, and her whole body was vibrating with the proximity to it.

Elira’s face slipped into that of a captain with ease, and she took the pendant from Lucy and slipped it over her head, guiding it over her curly dark hair.

“Not normal fog, then.”

Alrighty folks, time for tags! @oh-no-another-idea, I’m tagging you back :) @jay-avian @silver-ink-iron-words @silvertalondagger @averyconfusedhuman @imaginativemind29new your words are anguish, glimmer, steal (or any variation of it) and misery