I'm such an anxious mess over my leg I could puke.
seen from Argentina

seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Mexico

seen from Belgium

seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Poland
I'm such an anxious mess over my leg I could puke.
I've been having a really rough go of it lately where it feels like I don't exist and I don't matter, that no one cares to know me and no one will love my little quirks. I'm high risk right now, so I'm making this post as an act of self-care. SOME RANDOM FACTS ABOUT SALEM 1) collects pins/buttons/charms/keychains 2) loves to support artists whenever possible 3) got my "teddy bear" when I was four years old--friends from high school and middle school remember me taking it to sleep overs; his name is Napster and I still have him 4) collects blankets/pillows/softs for nesting 5) likes stars and the moon 6) favorite color is blue 7) pathologically honest 8) wears grey pants a lot 9) listens to Aegon of Astora's Let's Talk Lore as I go to sleep each night [his voice is soothing to me and makes me feel less alone] 10) talks to my dogs like they're people, up to and including, "daddy doesn't love us anymore," because, well...he doesn't...
Another update: --my dogs are officially Emotional Support Animals (ESAs), affording them similar protections as service animals. --I have means of recourse in case of an emergency. --my leg is still broken and if it continues to hurt after another few months, I might need surgery. --applying for disability. --realized my friends are blessings and gifts and are 1000% here to support me. Still scared shitless, but managing.
it is so fucking exhausting to constantly remind someone to credit you for your work. like, what is so fucking hard about inserting a link, and giving credit where credit is due?
for real, this iteration of percival is the product of *my* creative efforts, and just because you’re not strong enough of a writer to rewrite your story without using and abusing everything i fucking made does not mean you get a free fucking pass to claim *anything* of mine as yours.
interestingly enough, nothing in my fic can be attributed to you. so no, you don’t get credit for anything i’m writing right now.
What's the etiquette regarding comments on fix? Not leaving them--I think I've figured that part out--but replying to them? Because when an author replies to a comment on their own work, it counts as a new comment. So if, say, five people comment on a fic, and the author replies to all five, suddenly the comment counter on their fic doubles to ten. It seems like false data, or fabricated interest. It's frustrating, and it's part of the reason why I typically don't reply to comments. I don't want to skew my own analytics and data. I don't know guys, it's like...I have my own moral code. Crazy, right?
I know you do; that's why you "can't write your story without it" and have to fucking steal it. Please go fuck yourself.
I don't know where he goes or what he does or when he'll return. But I just want him to stay.
I'm salty and annoyed.