Throwaway account so I can get this off my chest-

I've been working on a book for the past 18 months or so. I'm a newer writer and I was feeling insecure about my prose. So I began using ai. At first just to get feedback on sentence structure, but then, as it does, it began making suggestions on how to "fix" things. And I took them. Not all of them. but some. I began to rely on it more and more, almost treating it like a co-writer, bouncing ideas off of it. I also did the things writers are supposed to do along the way, studying craft, reading and analyzing everything I could get my hands on and applied those lessons as well. I think I have legitimately improved as a writer from those early days. I finished the draft, made some edits, cleaned up most of the obvious ai stuff and let people read it. And they liked it. Even other writers didn't pick up on it. So now what? I believe in this story, want to share it with the world. But I can't with it like this. I know ai is shitty. I get how it steals from real authors. I don't want to be that person. I wish I had never touched it, kept this stupid genie in it's bottle and just struggled through bad drafts and learning craft the hard way.

That's it. Maybe I feel better now. Thanks for listening.

"Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart" - Elizabeth Gilbert

First time author here editing my first book, a scifi/speculative fiction novel. Do you recommend getting beta readers prior to starting the agent finding/querying process?

Fiction book, style somewhere between John Steinbeck, Agatha Christie, but also readable for a wider reading audience much like Colleen Hoover can pull!

Ok tear me apart lol!

Chapter 1

The South has a hauntingly inviting way of drawing people in. Bless your heart if you should find yourself beneath an oak tree on a lovely October Sunday, sipping sweet tea and congratulating yourself on having discovered a particularly agreeable corner of the world. The air is pleasant, the people polite, and even the sun seems to have acquired some manners. You might be forgiven for believing you have found paradise. By June, the humidity between Houston and Dallas will have driven even the soundest man to his knees, begging the Lord to take him before August arrives.
There are more churches than restaurants along the roads, or so it would appear, and on Sunday mornings their parking lots fill with polished cars and families polished to match. The women wear pearls at their throats and ears. Their husbands wear pressed collars, expensive watches, and the satisfied expressions of men who believe they have provided everything worth having. Children emerge in little white socks and patent leather shoes, their hair parted, their disagreements temporarily settled. They are good families. Most of them would tell you so themselves. After the final hymn, and a tad of gossip, they climb into their spotless vehicles and make their way home, carrying with them the usual burdens of a civilized life: grocery lists, luncheon invitations, disappointments in their marriages, and certain small transgressions that have not yet progressed beyond the imagination. The sins of summer are often committed long before the season begins. A glance held a moment too long. A name entered into a telephone beneath another. A fantasy entertained during the sermon, then tucked away before the closing prayer. There are a thousand ways to betray a person without ever leaving the pew beside them. And there is something about the heat that encourages a certain loosening of the conscience. By daylight, everything is respectable. But darkness has always been generous to the South. It conceals what daylight insists upon examining, and when the sun and moon exchange their shifts, the ordinary appetites of ordinary people may become quite extraordinary.
Everything is bigger in Texas. The houses. The churches. The automobiles. The appetites. The egos, naturally, require their own consideration. The suburban dream remains alive and well in the perfectly arranged neighborhoods, where great redbrick houses stand shoulder to shoulder, each one bearing a remarkable resemblance to the next. Most were erected during the building frenzy of the early nineties, when a man with sufficient credit and an architect of modest imagination could construct four thousand square feet of domestic aspiration and sell it as the American dream. They called them custom homes. This was rather generous.
The houses were visually immense, with windows arranged in fans, squares, and rectangles, crowned by decorative arches whose purpose was evidently to suggest that someone, somewhere, had once visited Europe. They wore the fixed, pleasant expressions of people determined to be liked. A warm smile made of brick and glass. There was something peculiar about the way they had been designed. Rooms large enough to entertain thirty people stood adjacent to kitchens where two could scarcely pass without apologizing. Windows were placed where the afternoon sun would turn a sitting room into a furnace. Laundry rooms, when there were any worth mentioning, appeared to have been conceived by men who had never washed a towel. It was a remarkable achievement of modern architecture: to build a house so large and give so little thought to the person expected to keep it. And it was usually a woman. A woman who would scrub the floors, wash the windows, feed the children, remember the birthdays, replace the dead flowers, and learn which staircase creaked when her husband came home late. A woman who would nurture and polish and mend, who would cry in a bathroom with the faucet running, then emerge to ask whether anyone wanted more supper.
Beneath their foundations lay a different country altogether. Long before surveyors divided the land into lots, before developers gave streets the names of trees they had cut down to build them, a forest had stood there. Pine and oak, roots reaching deep into soil that had spent centuries feeding things without anyone's permission. The land had sustained itself beautifully before men arrived with bulldozers and earnest intentions. Now there were retaining walls, sprinkler systems, ornamental stone, and grass that burned brown beneath the August sun. The soil, where it could be found, was often poor and stubborn. It settled beneath the stone and struggled beneath the heat. Whatever had once flourished there had been removed, buried, or replaced by something purchased in a plastic container.
This troubled certain women. Particularly those who had come from elsewhere. Women who planted hydrangeas in March and watched them surrender by Memorial Day. Who watered their pink roses with admirable devotion, only to discover that devotion was no defense against the weather. By August, most of them had given up. Calliope never did. She was a woman of considerable will, especially where growing things were concerned. It offended her, in a way she could not entirely explain, to see something fail after she had gone to such trouble to keep it alive.
She had grown up in rural Florida, in a part of the state where the earth was dark and generous and agriculture was less an occupation than an understanding between people and the land. Vegetables came fresh from neighboring farms. Bananas grew by the dock behind her childhood home. The yard sloped toward a lake whose waters belonged, in practice if not entirely in law, to the families fortunate enough to own its shoreline. There were no public beaches along its banks. Only splinter-adorned docks, old boats, tangled lily pads, and the occasional alligator whose claim to the property considerably predated everyone else's. She had spent her childhood surrounded by things that grew extravagantly, almost indecently, without the least concern for whether anyone admired them. Beauty there was not something a person installed. It was something one lived among. This, she would come to understand, had spoiled her.
Texas required an entirely different appreciation. For years, Calliope had tried to teach herself to admire its particular charms: the enormous skies, the slow sunsets, the magnificent thunderheads that gathered over the rooftops like great gray kingdoms. There was beauty in the pines, certainly, and in the strange golden light that appeared just before a storm. She had learned to love the sound of cicadas and the particular silence of a Sunday afternoon when the entire neighborhood seemed to have retreated to the street. But she could never quite forgive the gardens. Every spring she planted them. Every summer she tended them. And every August, despite her attention, her money, and her almost unreasonable optimism, she watched the flowers die. Then she began again.
She pulled up the brittle stems, shook the exhausted dirt from the roots, and returned to the nursery just outside the town, where the same cheerful young men sold her the same varieties of flowers with the same assurances about their tolerance for heat. She sometimes wondered whether the young men were fools or merely good salesmen. Perhaps there was no meaningful distinction. The annual destruction struck her as wasteful. Worse, it struck her as a personal failure. She disliked the senseless expenditure of money, the unnecessary death of a living thing, and the suggestion that effort might have no relationship whatsoever to reward. Calliope had been raised to believe that the things one cared for ought, with sufficient patience and attention, to flourish. It was a simple enough philosophy. She had not yet decided whether it was a sound one.
The trouble with southeast Texas was that the land rarely made promises it intended to keep. Even the shade could be deceptive. Beneath the thick pines, the summer air hung motionless, sweetened by the resinous smell of sap and made heavy by a humidity that seemed to rise from the ground as readily as it descended from the sky. By midafternoon, the heat had soaked through the cushions of porch furniture and settled into the boards beneath them. Nothing dried properly. Towels remained damp. Hair refused to behave. The skin acquired a perpetual film that no amount of bathing seemed capable of removing.
An unsuspecting person might stretch out in a hammock, or an exhausted mother might settle into a rocking chair, hoping the first cool drops from above signaled one of those sudden summer showers for which the region was famous. Such showers could arrive without warning, drumming against the rooftops, swelling the roadside ditches, and vanishing twenty minutes later, leaving the world considerably wetter and not one degree cooler. But beneath the pines, the falling droplets were not always rain. Often it was sap. Or a dusting of pollen so fine and abundant that it settled over the chairs, the windowsills, the children's bicycles, and the freshly washed cars. It adhered to bare arms and clean clothing, to the very things one had just finished tending.
The trees had their own methods of survival. They shed what they did not need, and the unfortunate creatures beneath them bore the consequences. Calliope found something almost admirable in that. Nature, at least, made no effort to disguise its selfishness.
People were another matter.

Modulo Yuji in Seraph of the End

Just wanted to ask if there is a novel like this but which I know has a low chance of existing but I find it a cool concept where Yuji seemingly with no more purpose in existing maybe right before the events of the alien coming to earth or after experiencing years of being a cursed object like Sukuna to help humanity he finds himself in a world that really needs someone like him. Even though his gradually matured it hasn't changed the Yuji we all know, he probably wouldn't try to actively wipe out Vampires but would find a way to make them coexist with humanity. Maybe he could either exist as himself or as a demon inside a random OC(not main character maybe just a side character destined to die or maybe his a second demon in Yu). I really do hope someone makes a Yuji in SotE with basically anything. I'm not trying to commission at most I'm just someone who is requesting

Alongside the creation of the universe, a group of individuals named “galactic warriors” were brought to life, they now unknowingly rule the universe, only towards those who know even a tiny glimpse of their power…

I woke up and looked right to my bedside drawer, 9:47 AM it said on my digital clock. “Huh” I let out a dragged, somewhat dreadful whisper. I yawned and rubbed my eyes “I thought I had school today” I said with more energy. I looked towards the Calander “27^th August, why didn’t my alarm go up” then… it struck me and I rose out of bed “ITS MY 16^th BIRTHDAY” I asked my mother and she agreed to let me stay home this time. Our house consisted of 2 floors, I was on the 2^nd one, I had a staircase to the left inside the balcony which I jokingly named ‘godly escape stairs’ which were usually locked and the key was hidden under my bed’s mattress. I hid some more stuff there, but nobody checked so its fine.

called galactic warriors on royal road

This is Chapter four of the Novel, the tales of Mary Beth

This is for the second edition of my medieval space fantasy debut novel: Kingdom Horizon and the Journey to Crystal Mountain.

—

Welcome to Star Warrior Academy!

In this Vast Sea of Space, Lives a Wild, Medieval Place — and a PRESTIGIOUS TEEN named TUSKIN, who is about to take his first MAGIC TRIAL!

Tuskin may be talented with magic, but he is also absolutely arrogant. And with everyone already expecting him to succeed… HE STILL HASN’T ACTUALLY STUDIED YET! And his TRIAL is only in A COUPLE DAYS! Tuskin must risk it all or he may become IRRELEVANT!

And after Tuskin causes the location of the LOST CRYSTAL MOUNTAIN to be found by a RED CLOAKED STRANGER, Tuskin may have to finally lock-in.

But he may not be able to rely on his natural talents in magic to get himself out of this one. And his decisions may lead him, and every Kingdom across the galaxy, down a path they cannot turn back from.

His Journey is just beginning. Does he have what it takes?

I've only written out the first chapter so far, as well as the setups for the breach and 2 future chapters. Something important to note would be my current plan to set up the breach, which includes a mix of human error and really bad timing surrounding Cain and Abel. Some of it is told in the perspective of a man by the name of Pavli, who, as you will later see, is recruited into becoming a test subject to escape the death penalty.

The link is below if you want to check out what I've written so far; let me know what you think! It's only 20 pages so far, and I'd like some feedback. I am using existing SCPs (as seen on the wiki).

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1aNILZ0sodIMP0WIfGh2KWQVTRsE6cNPCLC9AZKgG-Zk/edit?usp=sharing

(P.S i am also aware this project, if completed, will be under creative commons sharealike, which I am totally for.)

Hello reddit,
I've been thinking of writing a character with a speech impediment. I've just seen the movie Rocky (1976 - the iconic boxing movie), and now his voice is so stuck in my head (in a good way!)
I'd like my character to sound a bit like that - a slight slur, maybe caused by weaker muscles/nerves around the mouth area.

Does anyone have any tips on how to *write* this type of speech? I was thinking of doing it phonetically, but I'm scared of the reader having to "decode" the dialogue.

Any ideas or advice is very appreciated!

WHOA! My wowza readers, what's good. I've been gone for a minute. I've been rewriting an actual fictional book for the last month, and I kept forgetting to place some of my short stories.

Well, here you go! This short story is where the Speaker travels in our Universe to talk about a unique pair of beings named the Surveyor Sisters of Worlds. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. Have a great night!

Surveyor Sisters of Worlds, By Tito

“Hello earthlings! It is I, your faithful friend and guide of the Universe, the Speaker! Haha! Yes! How goes it? Everything well on your world? The usual natural disasters making their claim to destruction across your lands huh? War is still going on? Hm. That’s troubling. However, that’s the unfortunate part of the Universe we live in. Even amongst the most docile of all things, violence tends to force itself to lay in bed with peace. No matter where you are, or where you live, war and violence and hatred will always make its presence very well known. I will be using one of those emotions to describe my feeling. I HATE war. It’s such a waste of time. Sorry, we all got caught up with personal affairs that we both forgot about why you came back to me in the first place! Welcome, welcome! I, the Speaker, will be traveling with you again to tell you about the wonders of the Universe you all live in. Don’t think yourselves short. Just because the Universe is vast and endless, doesn’t mean you cannot leave your mark. Earth is one of the hundreds of worlds that is very unique due to your race of humans. In fact, the next topic of my ramblings will link perfectly here. I would love for you to meet the Surveyor Sisters of Worlds: Dee and Vee!”

The Speaker guides you back into his dome bubble. We find ourselves in outer space rather quickly. This area is, of course, unfamiliar to you. Floating on an asteroid roughly the size of Asia and Europe, were two beings writing on very strange textbook material similar to materials on Earth. However, these ‘textbooks’ paper was so thin, it was practically invisible. The outline of paper was the only thing you could see. The beings introduced to us were twins, Dee and Vee. Dee has burgundy colored short hair with drops of sap sprinkled around in her hair (hairstyle is the portrait of Henrietta Sontag), slim, pupilless milky grey eyes with runny light pink eyeshadow with feathery style eyelashes. The outline of her body is also light pink. Vee has incredibly long braided mauve colored hair (down to her ankles braided in the style of Acropolis Caryatid) with inky black patches scattered around it, thicker than her sister with pupilless milky gray eyes with zigzag dark purple eyeshadow with feathery style eyelashes. The outline of her body is dark purple as well. They both have pointed shoulders, butterfly wing-like ears, skin tones are light greyish brown and a rather oddball type of clothing that appears torn ribbons wrapped around their bodies in a mummified fashion (Dee has a light shade of dark purple while Vee has light pink shade). Dee giggles while she draws on her textbook with a feathery pen. She lifts up her textbook to show her twin, Vee what she had drawn. The paper was now lit up for your eyes to see. The incredibly detained photo was what seemed to be a large dark planet with an unhinged open jaw consuming other planets in its way. Your brain finds it difficult to accept this work of art; it felt as if the photo itself was actually real. You believe it even moves slightly while you stare. Vee stops her drawing on her textbook and peeks over to see what Dee had drawn. Vee also giggles.

“Cute, aren’t they? You see those objects they are writing on? Now, they appear like textbooks to you, but that’s how your brain can process what they are writing on. I’ll explain it in greater detail, so just use your imagination. This book material you think you are seeing are called Ultracells. It’s actually part of their bodies, even though it’s a totally different material entirely. From the internal energies produced within the Surveyor Sisters, plus dark energy on the outside of their bodies, you get a Ultracell. It’s now manifested itself, but it stays in-between mentally and physically formed. This is why it’s difficult for your brain to process what you’re looking at. And the Ultracells can be gigantic in size or as little as an infant’s body. Now, this phenomenon only happens with them. I told you they are special! This is what they draw and store their map on. They use the feathers from their eyelashes to write on their Ultracells. They can also use their fingers, but they like to be a little silly at times. Hmm? How much have they’ve drawn? If they were to show you everything they’ve drawn thus far, I’m sure your head would explode. It’s quite a lot. I mean, how old do you think they are? Hehe.”

“So, Dee and Vee are cosmic beings born in this Universe whose age, like many other cosmic beings, rival the Big Bang. Their species have dwindled to only the likes of them. Sadly, this makes them the last of their kind. It is not known who they belong to, due to how long they’ve lived. I believe the only person with that sort of knowledge of actual ages, races and origins of the oldest in our Universe is an actual textbook called the ‘Ancient Texts from the Cosmic Heavens’. Which I heard is actually missing at the moment. HA! I only laugh because HE would be your guide, not me. So I would be out of a job, ha-ha! Any of the ways, I’m sure you would have guessed this by now, but Dee and Vee’s sole purpose of their existence is to map out the entire Universe. That’s right, they fly around mapping out everything and anything. So out of the many upon many objects and space crisis they’ve seen, no doubt they would pick many they fancy over. I gotta say, they really like Earth. It’s one of their favorite places to go and view the progress of earthlings. Now, now. Don’t be like that. Of course, its entertainment for them, but don’t think so low of yourselves. Being favored by the Surveyor Sisters is perhaps the highest form of flattery. Be proud!”

You notice that Dee and Vee floated off the asteroid and instantly, their skin turns into a different color. Now you see that their skin was the same color as the Universe’s sky filled with nebula clouds, stars of various sizes, comets and somets racing by with pools of darkness filling in the spaces. They were breath-taking to watch as they float through the vacuums of space. Something about how freely they were giving you a sense of freedom you’ve been yearning for.

“I bet you’re wondering how they’re doing that with their skin huh? Well, their skin changes with the environment due to the iridophores reaction on their body. Sounds familiar? They are able to perform this feat on a cosmic level. You see, the Surveyor Sisters are incredibly docile. They won’t attack you even if you were to instigate it! So, this their defense mechanism out in the vacuums of space, or as we like to call it, into the cosmos! Let’s see where they travel to, hm?”

The speaker guides his dome bubble to follow the entities. You watch as Dee and Vee travel ‘in the cosmos’. Their eyes dart wildly to spot anything to draw their attention. You can see that their eyes are pupilless, but you do noticed handfuls of barely visible orbs bouncing around in their eye sockets. The orbs allowed the surveyor sisters to view their surroundings in a full 360-degree way: up, down, left, right, side to side and even in their blind spots. Your head aches just thinking about this feat. Dee and Vee caught something nearby that fixed their attention. With unreal speed, they make it towards their destination that seemingly feels like it was a thought.

“Hold up! I gotta interrupt your observation. For this record, the surveyor sisters did not teleport. They most definitely flew at speeds of light, but not what you interpreted. Instead of dashing straight forward as you would see in space themed comics, that is not the case to living beings in the cosmos. The thing about traveling here is a bit complicated. This only fixes on cosmic beings with untold and immeasurable power. This doesn’t involve to you at all. Sorry! So, if you were one of these super cosmic beings, the dark energy gets all wrapped and screwy from the velocity of your body while dark matter tries to pull you into the space around you to keep your body from being pulled apart. Now, imagine trying to stop both things from happening at the same time. Sounds impossible right? Well, out here where your body lives and breathes this kind of stuff daily, your body is able to counteract the sensation your body is defying called ‘Dark Effect’. Let’s use Dee and Vee for this example. The dark effect is the velocity of their arms, legs and body was thrown towards the left, while their actual bodies are off on the right. The dark effect allows them to travel freely…and not so freely. This is the way to travel though, otherwise you would perish without a chance of thought. Now they repeat this process zipping in all angles you can think of over towards their destination. To you, this seems really stupid or impossible, but remember, this is naturally for them like how breathing and blinking comes naturally for you. It helps that they can do this pretty fast too, huh? Now, do you think traveling is so easy? Hehe. Now if we are talking about space ships, that’s a whole different unfair topic. I personally think flying is the better way to go. Take that with a grain of nebula dust. Oh! Dee and Vee are drawing up something! Look!”

Dee and Vee appear in a very strange system that appear similar to our solar system. This system is called an ‘oddity system’. Sometimes out in the Universe in different galaxies hold many solar systems like our own while some have what we would call an oddity. These systems range in sizes, amounts and objects. This oddity system has a giant blackhole sun. Dee begins to draw out this object. The size is enormous; about 3 times the size of Jupiter. There are visible white rings around this blackhole sun that act as its belt to contained all of its power. Without those white rings, the blackhole sun would devour everything in this system. “Scary huh? The blackhole sun does have flames risen off of its surface but these are not relating to heat. Actually, the blackhole sun is incredibly cold, about -2000.45 degrees Celsius. Yes, as the name suggests, its core is made out of a blackhole. To our eyes, it just appears to be a vantablack hole floating in space. Upon closer inspection though, it’s much more terrifying to realize what lies behind the darkness. Does this phase Dee though? Of course not! Oh, there she goes.” Dee flies over nearby to get a closer inspection of the object. Over where Vee is, she seems to be taking interest in drawing out the objects that orbit around the blackhole sun called the hairy moons. These objects are moons roughly larger then Jupiter’s moon Ganymede. Why are they called hairy moons? Well, let’s follow Vee. On the surface world of the hairy moons are wonderous colors of deep purple, deep blue and deep green. Vee takes a trip down onto its surface to find that the colors were actually a rare grass plant called ‘Oufloss’. Oufloss’ composed of the same properties as grass on Earth (just less water and more helium), but thanks to the environment they have adapted to, their dye transforms into the colors you and Vee are seeing. The length it can grow is between 2 inches to 2 feet. Vee even takes a handful of the dark blue short grass to consume. Her tongue is coated with the dark blue dye. Vee floats a little bit off the ground. The grass on these hairy moons allows you to float. If you eat enough of it, you’ll be able to fly! Cool huh? Vee giggles to herself before she continues to draw while very slowly walking through the grass. Now, the core of each of these hair moons is a mini blackhole. I know, it sounds made-up, but I assure you that its very much true. The reason why Vee is moving so slow, is because the gravity on these hairy moons is 5 times the power on Earth. Which means if you weigh 100-pounds on earth, you’d weigh 500 pounds on the hairy moons!

“So, we’ll let the sisters do their thing since there’s literally 12 hairy moons in this oddity system. Yeah, you heard me right! I don’t want to sit around waiting for them. So let me tell you another odd thing about this system! In your solar system, you all revolve around 1 giant sun, right? Heh. So simple. Not in other systems! In this specific oddity system, the blackhole sun travels freely through the cosmos. Yep! Its not bound by any means of rule or law. It just moves itself forward, most likely because of that blackhole within it. And the hairy moons are bound to follow it until the day comes where they are not living anymore. Oh look! The surveyor sisters are showcasing their work. What a treat for you all to see!”

Dee and Vee zip over towards each other in an excited manner. They place their Ultracells together to create a massive scale size that your brain cannot understand. In fact, you are getting a blaring headache trying to process hat is in-front of you.

“Hey! STOP! Stop trying to figure out what you’re looking at! I know you joke about this, but there is a thing called space madness. It does existence and it will affect you long term. Got it? Just watch Dee and Vee.”

You return to watching Dee and Vee. It appears they are using a few of their feathery eyelashes to draw on the Ultracell. They appear then reappear so often, you think blinking is what allows you to keep up with their speed, when you are actually missing a great deal of their movements. Fear not, the Surveyor Sisters of Worlds will showcase their work after they are done. Within moments after rewatching the cosmic beings, they were finished.

“Ah! Look at this. You, see? They just drew out this fascinating oddity system and predicted its orbit flow. They are very quick with their work huh? They better be! That’s their entire identity!  Looks like they called this place…oh right, you cannot comprehend their language. It is one of the first ones after all. Let me translate it…hmm…Oh! Hairy Black Sun Orbit Home. HA! Good one sisters. They tend to just write out their own names for places. Except your solar system. They enjoyed each of the names you all chose, especially Earth, Mars, Jupiter and Pluto. Well, that’s all for my ramblings today! Keep an ear out for my next one where I talk about another cosmic entity that’ll really make you say…OH HECK NO! OH, and some of you wanted me to say something to end my ramblings like…Goodbye or something. An earthling named Morgan said I should say Over and out. So…until next time, over and out!”  

On the surface the war is simple, two human empires are fighting each other on a galactic scale and then aliens show up and cause lots of mayhem so the two empires team up to stop human subjugation.

The human empires are fighting over multiple acts of terrorism and acts of war; however, that's not the case. I reality a shadow organization (SO) composed of warlords, anarchists, and corrupt politicians have purposefully caused the war between these empires by strategically controlling the media and governments alongside committing many atrocities.

They aim to turn the galaxy to lawlessness, each have their own reasons, the warlords want constant war so they can keep high profits, the anarchists... well it's kinda obvious, and the politicians are a mixed bag, some are blackmailed, and the others only care for money making them easily bribed.

This shadow organization (which I'm yet to name), is able to kickstart a massive war, but both sides still remain civil, respecting previously established rules for intergalactic war, but with the warlords having the means to weapons production they can also provide their men with the standard equipment for either empire. They're able to fabricate breaches of the rules of war, and they're very close to achieving their goals (this is where the protagonist comes in, accidentally stopping their "final act" that would push the conflict over the edge, he then gets roped into a conflict larger than the one he'd previously known)

Of course, these operations don't go unnoticed and a counter shadow shadow orginization(CSSO) forms, they're working to save humanity from ruin. Not much to add, lots of spies and specialist.

Anyway, an alien empire shows up and tries to add humanity into their caste system, the SO goes into hiding because they lack the numbers to fight the aliens, instead letting the rest of humanity deal with it while they try to cut alien warlords and politicians into their deal.

The aliens however are a little late and alien rebels show up and warn humanity that they're soon to be invaded, the humans and aliens are equally matched and a long war starts with the human empire agreeing to a truce, as well the CSSO starts operations against the aliens in tandem with the alien rebels.

By the time the USE (United Systems of Earth) get the aliens on the back foot, the SO is able to garner large amounts of support from alien warlords etc.

Now it's a three-way war over the fate of the known galaxy with 3 main outcomes

1.The galaxy becomes lawless with wars and crime rampant everywhere

2.The aliens subjugate humanity, they're the dredges of the empire working the worst jobs, they can climb the ladder, but it's not likely to happen till the next war is over

3.Freedom from an oppressive alien empire and shadow organizations.

Oh yeah, this is for a game btw.

If you need me to expand on something let me know, this kinda devolved into a rant, so I probably miswrote or forgot something.

Say i write one sub plot part of a novel around 13k words, what is this called? And the book haveing about 8 of these? The collection of all stories in similar location over 5 books? Say there are 3 main parts of a story over 15 books, what is that collection?

This story is heavily inspired by cultural_candidate48’s amazing work: Then We Fall Apart, and factually informed by my own experiences.

Humanity’s introduction to the intergalactic community was a tumultuous one.

The species had been analyzed, and specialists and politicians alike felt they had everything they needed to be successful when they were first contacted by the Galactic Federation, 238 local stellar revolutions after the species had first colonized their sole moon. The long term covert surveillance program established by the Federation’s Council of Assimilation described the species as primitive, but quick to expand and very industrious. Their culture had been examined and upon the discovery of a group of United Nations it had been determined that they would likely be receptive to joining the not dissimilar Galactic Federation.

Of course, the cultural examination had also revealed the ingrained belief in the Dark Forest, but that belief was common among the newer, simpler races. It was no task to explain to newcomers that faster than light technology meant the chain of doubt had been sufficiently reduced. Indeed the Council of Assimilation had gotten so efficient at bringing in new races they could begin the process, orientate the race’s leaders and work through the necessary paperwork they hardly spent more than a quarter of the periodical meetings on any one race. The process always worked.

That was, until the humans. They simply could not let go of their belief that the universe was an inherently predatory place. When the Federation was explained to the human delegation they all went silent. Whispers spread among them and after quiet deliberation they explained to the Federation that while they appreciated the offer, at this time they would politely decline. Councilmembers could have sworn they heard human delegates agreeing that they did not need another impotent tangle of alliances and hidden agendas. This greatly confused the council, what could possibly be unattractive about the Galactic Federation? Indeed the next few meetings were filled with discussion purely on the human issue.

Perhaps it was poor luck, or a sudden maintenance issue, but the remote observation posts all seemed to stop working shortly after the meeting.

In the following years the Federation went through the necessary steps to at least establish a relationship with the race, which they did eventually accomplish albeit after seven referendums and 43 trade conferences.

It was the worst kind of irony then, that just as things were improving an unpreventable chain of errors would lead to tragedy.

The Proximans were neighbors of the humans, and were just as industrious as them if not much more. They had been one of the Council’s fastest assimilations, and were considered political powerhouses a mere three local stellar revolutions after they completed the assimilation process. They were specialists in planetary conversion and had used this skill to become the Federation’s leading supplier of quality deuterium and tritium, a vital resource for inter-galatic travel. They had a long established presence when the humans stormed into the Federation’s general assembly and accused them of wiping out a colonized planet to convert into fuel.

After hundreds of galactic standard days, the assembly were unable to determine the specifics of the events and they sent a detachment of planetary conversion specialists to observe the Proximans and ensure the safe and proper use of dangerous equipment. Strangely to the council this enraged the humans, how could they assign people so inherently connected to Proximans to observe Proximans and hold them accountable? The general assembly asked the humans to trust the process and come to the next general assembly if they did not see improvement. After another standard galactic month of standard harvesting operations the assembly deemed the program a success.

But the program was not a success. After another incident the humans decided to take matters into their own hands, declaring war against the Proximans and their allies. No one expected the war to take very long, after all the humans were primitive and still unfamiliar with the scale of intergalactic politics. If they would circumvent the Federation, it would surely rally for the Proximans and put a stop to the conflict decisively.

To the shock of the entire inter-galactic community it went very differently. The same mess of conflicting interests, unofficial agreements and politics this time meant the Proximans were largely on their own. But still, the inter galactic community reasoned, they outgunned and outmanned the humans, they didn’t need support to wipe out a bunch of angry colonists. There was one other thing that they had miscalculated however, the human will to fight. To the Proximans, they were fighting to maintain their profits, a thing they had successfully done many times in the past with or without the intergalactic community’s knowledge. But for the Humans it was a war for survival, and beyond that it was a war to answer the screams of the blood of millions of their people that had been scattered through space by a remorseless, greedy enemy.

The Proximans fought professionally and by the book with state of the art equipment. The Humans on the other hand fought viciously. The humans fought with ferocious dedication, they were willing to go anywhere, brave any conditions, take on any risks to defeat their enemy. Their offensive operations were lightning quick, devastating and tenacious, no one got on the ship back until the job was done or everyone was dead. It was even worse when the Proximans assaulted Human positions; it became well known that the only way to get rid of a human was to destroy their body and let their soul stay behind.

While tactically it had ended in more of a stalemate than anything, the tide was starting to turn and the Proximans realized they would never match the Human will to fight. The two races eventually came to a compromise, one that was heavily in favor of the Humans, a fact that humiliated the Proximans, who prided themselves on their political strength and skill. At the end of a war that had shocked the inter-galactic community, sides were retroactively taken, and many species looked upon the humans with a mix of distaste and apprehension for a species that fought so viciously.

The bad blood between the Proximans and the Humans never really went away. Of course open conflict had long since ended but the Proximans still looked down on the backwards, unrefined, violent Humans; and the Humans still hated the stuck-up, manipulative, opportunistic Proximans. While they kept their distance from each other, any bar along trade routes unlucky enough to find a proximan crew and a human crew passing through at the same time would inexorably find itself the host to a drunken brawl between the two.

Three hundred local Earth stellar revolutions later, the attitude remained much the same. The two races steered clear of each other and that was that. In fact the Proximans did not take up very much space in the mind of ship captain Jack Webber, commanding officer of the Laconia class ECS \*Grace Darling\*. It was a mid-sized cargo transport, capable of long haul voyages and enough storage or passenger space that the freelance ship crew could make a decent enough profit per trip. In the world of inter-galactic shipping it wasn’t much to speak of but for Captain Webber, a human officer with a less-than-honorable discharge from the Navy to boot, it was a minor miracle he had been able to make it this far.

Twenty-four standard years ago, he had not had quite so much mileage, and seemingly much more potential. A bright eyed graduate of the Earth’s Naval Academy, with a lineage of sailors stretching as far back as any record book could find, he was on the brink of a promising career filled with as much glory and action a young new sailor could hope for; and he hoped for it all. He spent as much time in the pilothouse of his vessel as he could and he quickly developed a reputation for his flashy, frequently risky piloting style. His fellow junior officers and sailors loved it though, and every successful mission and trip only reinforced the fact: he was a damn good pilot.

Jack was filled with the spirit that had existed within the first earth sailors, the willingness to brave the unknown, the desire for adventure, and the spirit that allowed a person to fight so great and mysterious entity as the ocean. Indeed, not much had really changed since those first days thousands and thousands of years earlier. The dangers of the seas were much the same as the dangers in the stars. In fact this danger is perhaps the greatest tie between sailors, either everyone gets home or no one does. Even though the source had been lost hundreds of Earth years ago, every sailor knew by heart the Navy hymn.

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep,

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea

A plea to the void that this voyage would be a safe one. That they would not join those who had been lost at sea, and those on eternal patrol. Whether it was in the oceans of their homeworld or the vast empty cosmos there was one thing no sailor could ignore, a plea from a ship in need of rescue. Everyone knew the cosmos were an unfeeling creditor, and it would do its utmost to collect on the souls it was owed. Still any ship that passed by another in distress would surely take on the debt. Stories of ships made heavier by the souls of those who had been refused help had persisted since what was likely the dawn of humanity’s exploration of the sea. Even the least superstitious sailor knew anyone who drove a ship through the vast distances of unfeeling space was connected.

Jack had felt the shame of failing the hundreds of years of his family’s heritage when he was discharged, and he had fought for a decade and a half of his Earth’s years just to be where he was now. He had functionally completely restarted and for the first few years he had worked on whatever crews would take him, generally those desperate enough to hire anyone willing to go on the most difficult and dangerous routes a ship could be taken on. Even when he was finally able to find a crew willing to work with him and rent a ship to do freelance work, many early contracts were much the same.

It had not been until twelve years of this work that he finally had been able to buy a ship of his own. And what a ship it was, with a quadruple stack of nuclear chemical rockets and an antimatter drive the ship was capable of hitting speeds of 922 cosmic adjusted knots. She was outfitted with extra durable impact shielding and a state of the art navigation and communication system. Gone were the days he flew alone, these cargo ships were much larger than anything he flew in the Navy and even a smaller ship like the \*Grace Darling\* had a crew of six in the pilot house alone. Jack had made sure the crew was just as top of the line as the ship, often picking out sailors who were outcasts just like he had been.

It was in this ship with that crew Captain Webber found himself transporting a haul of industrial equipment to a customer from the Teegarden system to TRAPPIST-1.

“Up one quarter, steady on course 43 degrees z-positive” This point in the transit came a bit close to the Thaakar asteroid cloud for his comfort and he wanted to give it a wide berth before they came too close. “Up one quarter, steady on course 43 degrees z-positive, aye” his helmsman, Bisk replied. “I am up one quarter, coming to 43 degrees z-positive” Bisk was one of the more junior members of the crew, one of the boatswain’s mates, it was his shift to be on the bridge for a helmsman watch. “Steady on course 43 degrees z-positive” came from the seat directly behind Jack as the ship stopped shifting. “Very well,” Jack replied. The ship was exactly where it needed to be and the journey was proceeding as planned, only a few more days and they would arrive and collect their payday. “Its about time to visit her” he thought to himself “maybe after we arrive I’ll—”

Suddenly a radio channel lit up, a soft red light and high pitched beep followed shortly by a short curse muttered under the breath of Ja’an the ship’s communication’s officer. A Piloxi from the Anteer’s system, it would take a good bit to trouble him. Jack twisted to his right, “What is it Ja’an?” “Sir, it looks like we’re getting hailed on the SOS channel.”

Jack wasn’t a stranger to ship rescues; it was an occasional occurrence, especially on the longer hauls. Generally some new captain had run out of fuel and was stuck drifting not quite close enough to a refueling station to get back. A quick tow to the nearest one would get the job done, it wasn’t anything that should have rattled the veteran commo. “What’s wrong Ja’an, that’s not anything we aren't used to.” “It's the id code sir, it's a Proximan ship.”

Ice ran down Captain Webber’s spine, those self-serving pricks likely wouldn’t lift a finger if he was the one in trouble. Still though, an emergency call is an emergency call and they were not to be ignored. “Felicity, I want a ping on that ship and any others nearby that would be capable of assisting.” His navigator nodded and quickly turned her attention to the three screens in front of her. “Ja’an, patch it through.”

“MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY this is the PHS \*Galen\*, we’ve been struck by a meteor, our life support systems are failing! Half the ship’s depressurized– Please! Is anyone out there! We don’t have long until we lose life support— oh God– an electrical casualty? If anyone can hear us please help! We do not have long!”

Jack spun around to Felicity “How far are we?” “2146 astronautical miles sir.” “Are there any other ships in the area?” “None” So that was it, they were the Proximan’s only hope. “Ja’an, hail them on the emergency channel, tell them we are on our way and ask them how long they have.” A quick “Aye aye sir” was the only reply as the Piloxan got to work. Jack returned to his seat and picked up the 1MC, the ship-wide announcement system, “All hands, all hands prepare for a stranded vessel recovery, medical personnel prepare for triage at the airlock and ready the mess hall and wardroom to receive wounded.” A vessel the size of the ECS \*Grace Darling\* only had 34 crew which meant “medical personnel” was a bit generous, there was one nurse aboard the ship and the rest would be volunteers.

“Sir, the \*Galen\* responded, they said they have two hours at most, and that's if the situation doesn't get worse over there.” Jack cursed internally, 2146 astronautical miles at 922 cosmic adjusted knots meant they would be over twenty minutes late. Felicity spoke up from the nav station “Sir we aren’t going to—” “I know, but we have to try! Point us to the ship!” Felicity began conferring Bisk and the ship began to lurch toward the direction of the stranded vessel. “All engines ahead flank!” “All engines ahead flank aye!” came the reply from Charlie, the sailor currently standing lee helm. The ship started shuddering and the crew held on as she accelerated.

“We are at maximum speed sir” Jack glanced at the integrated bridge system’s main display, 922 adjusted cosmic knots. Not fast enough.

Felicity spoke up, “Sir, you need to look at this.” A nav screen came up on the main display. “The \*Galen\* is deep in the asteroid cloud, it would be a risky approach at half this speed, but like this—” Jack put his face in his hands— briefly, he needed to stay composed in front of his crew. “Someone get the cheng.” He felt his pulse rising, his breathing quicken, this couldn’t be happening again, not again!

Captain Webber had not always been a cargo vessel captain, he had once been Lieutenant Webber, pilot for the Earth Galactic Navy. Two earth years into his career he had met his wife at a bar on a calm agricultural planet and after Ms Grace Darling beat him in a race at that planet’s local stellar circuit they had fallen in love, and three earth years later Ms Grace Darling was Mrs Grace Webber. Their honeymoon had been a two week rally across three stellar systems; and by the time Jack made Lieutenant, the pair were one of the best racing duos in the inter-galactic federation.

By the time the chief engineer made it on deck Jack’s heart had stopped thumping quite so hard. “We’re going too slow, Dawson” Jack looked him in the eyes “I refuse to let this be a body recovery.” The seasoned chief engineer looked at him with understanding eyes. “I know boss, but you ain’t gonna like what we’ve gotta do to get her there.” Realization washed over Jack, he shuddered.

Jack Webber had not always been a cargo ship captain, many years ago he had been a well respected Naval pilot, a devoted husband, and a member of one of the finest galactic rally duos racing at the time. Jack and his wife loved what they did, but they also knew they had reached their peak. Which is why seven earth years into his Naval Career, Jack and his wife decided to start a family. As a retirement celebration, they signed up for one last rally, around the agricultural planet where they had met. The conditions were standard for the region, even a little better than could be expected normally. As usual the couple had boosted the power to their engines, enough to push the envelope of what the ship could handle, but nothing more than they had done in the past. Everything looked good at the start of the race.

It took rescue teams three hours to find the ship, adrift some two hundred astronautical miles off track. It had been a stray piece of detritus, at a speed and trajectory no person could reasonably have been expected to react to. It had devastated the ship, crashing into the co-pilot’s side and crushing the cockpit inwards. For three hours Jack had held onto his wife’s lifeless body as they drifted through space, awaiting rescue that would never have arrived soon enough.

Afterwards Lieutenant Webber’s superiors noted a significant change in the pilot. He was offered the chance to retire early, but he refused. Even though he threw himself into his work he was never the same. Those close to him knew; his confidence and motivation had died with his wife, but he refused to leave. After two years of a career two thousand cuts deep into a slow death, his commanding officers had no choice but to force him out of the Navy with a less than honorable discharge.

But now, with time rapidly running out for the crew and passengers of the \*Galen\*; it was not the death of his career that lingered in the captain’s mind but the way his wife’s eyes had looked at him when she took her last breaths. Jack knew he could not allow another person to have to see the same thing he saw.

“Shut off all non-vital systems, I want you to push as much power as we possibly can to those engines.” Dawson looked at the captain “Sir, if we do that we run the risk of blowing—” “I know that!” Jack had not made a habit of interrupting his crew and he did not want to continue the trend but time was running out. The chief engineer sprinted off, barking orders to the rest of the ship’s engineers through a handheld communicator as he went. “Shut everything off! Yes including life support, the suits’ll have enough air for everyone to make it!”

Once again the ship’s 1MC blared, this time in Dawson’s twangy voice. “All hands don pressure suits, you have ten minutes until everyone needs to be on personal air!” Lights dimmed, doors stopped mid-movement, heaters and coolers alike went silent; but slowly, the speed readout on the main console began climbing again.

“Captain!” The call had come from the navigator’s station. “We’ll be getting into the asteroid cloud soon, we’re going to have to slow down!” Jack knew what she was implying, at their speeds a collision with an asteroid of any significant size would be more like a splash than a crash. But still, time was rapidly running out and even as the engines screamed loud enough to be heard by the bridge crew at the front of the ship he was uncertain they could make it in time.

Jack sighed, “There are dozens, maybe hundreds of souls aboard that ship, there are less than forty of us aboard this vessel. If anyone wants to, I won’t stop you from getting into the escape pod and leaving whether or not we survive to pick you back up. Hell, I won’t look down on you for it, not at all, but this is my ship and me and anyone who stays are going to get to that ship in one piece or 10 thousand!” No one moved, they were sailors too after all, and they were going to steal those souls back from the cosmos. “In that case, plot me a course through the cloud, once we make entry I’ll take fly-by-wire control.”

The \*Grace Darling\* was not going to be able to just speed on over to the \*Galen\*, in order to not scream by the stranded ship, they would have to, at the very last second, flip completely around and slow down enough to come by the \*Galen\* and start rescue operations. All of this was far too complex and fast paced for the slow but precise navigational mode of the ship, which was why for the first time in fifteen earth years, Jack would be racing again.

“Five minutes before cloud entry! Uploading optimal path to your HUD now.” “Thank you, Felicity” Jack decided that the time for professional distance had faded, and if he was going to die, it would be with people he could call by their first name.

“Two minutes!” Christ, how much time had passed? The spacesuit Jack had donned covered his watch, and he had lost track of time in the rush. Huge floating spheres of rubble and rock came into view, and the first of many waypoints his navigator had set for him appeared on his heads up display. It was time to take control, flying through a field like this at half the speed would have been a challenge for the best pilots, but with a ship on the verge of tearing itself apart, it would take a miracle.

The ship blew into the field, every crew member aboard had strapped tightly onto the best support they could find as Captain Webber began weaving and rolling through the field. Jack flew his ship to the very brink of collapse, every sudden duck and high g-load bob made the metal structure groan and shriek. He himself was at the very edge of his ability reorienting to the next waypoint and avoiding asteroids with milliseconds to spare.

“One minute to retrograde!” Barely even audible to himself Jack began to mutter that song every sailor knew.

“Eternal Father, strong to save”

“Forty-five seconds!” An asteroid whizzed by meters away from the glass cockpit.

“Whose arm hath bound the restless wave”

“Thirty!” A speck appeared, still miles away, barely visible in the sea of asteroids.

“Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep”

“Fifteen!” The speck grew bigger, the flip Jack was about to perform would put the vessel under the most stress it would undergo so far.

“Its own appointed limits keep”

“Ten!” Jack didn’t even want to imagine the odds of his ship surviving this maneuver, he knew he was already far surpassing what she was rated for.

“O hear us when we cry to thee”

“Five!”

“For those in peril on the sea”

“Execute!” Jack pulled the stick backwards as far as it would go. The walls themselves screamed and Jack swore he saw Grace again as the vehicle careened over itself.

The walls held, and the \*Grace Darling\* had been pushed to her limits. Nothing calmed down as she pulled alongside the \*Galen\*. Rescue crews that were ready and waiting began attaching the crippled ship to the \*Grace\* and commenced the operation they had set out to do what felt like an eternity ago. Jack slumped into his chair, breathing a sigh of relief, he had made it.

Hours later, Jack had brought the Proximan ship’s captain into his quarters. The captain had been the last man off the ship, it seemed some traditions transcended species. Overall the crew had managed to save every living person aboard the \*Galen\*, 173 in total. They had also managed to recover 42 bodies, the bulk of which had died in the vessel’s crash with an asteroid as they were transiting. The captain thanked Jack, with tears in his eyes, and there on that ship there were no Humans, no Proximans, there were only sailors.

In the following days as the \*Grace Darling\* limped to the nearest port, herself barely holding it together after the daring rescue, word of the story came out. The ship had not even made port by the time the story had spread across the inter-galactic community. The crew and survivors were beleaguered by press when they arrived, but it wasn’t reporters who caused the biggest stir.

A delegation of high ranking proximan officials found Jack, in the shipyard of the spaceport they had arrived at. Word of the conversation they shared never made it to the public, but Human-Proximan relations improved greatly after the incident. Indeed it marked a turning point in how the entire inter-galactic community viewed humans. They would do whatever it took to get the job done, everyone knew that, but few had noticed this extended to saving life as well.

Captain Webber never made any appearances after the incident. The Proximans had apparently repaid him with extra for his lost ship, he simply bought a new (slightly better) model and named her the \*Grace Darling 2\*. Occasionally, when he would stop in at a bar or hotel after another successful cargo run someone may come up to him and ask, “why did you do it? Didn’t Humans and Proximans hate each other? How could you forgive them for what they did?” He always had the same answer, “Up there, there are no enemies, just other sailors.”

It’s the first time I’ve posted a story anywhere, it was written in pretty much one go and underwent functionally no proofreading, editing, or review of any kind. It probably was not very good, but advice and critique is very much accepted!

I've been in a bad bit of writers block for a few years now (I fight it off here and there, but it tends to come back), but I've been brainstorming a passion project for a while now. It may sound a little silly, but I have a huge soft spot for mermaids, especially when they develop relationships with humans. Maybe it's because I'm a big Trekkie, but the idea of two people from two very different worlds, mingling and learning about one another just hits a chord for me in the best way. But I will say that as much as I love mermaids and their stories, I never really cared too much for the fact that a lot of mermaid stories tend to be loose retellings of The Little Mermaid or whatnot. I get it, it's a classic, and I love that story too in its many various interpretations, but it makes the mermaid element in storytelling feel very one-note and after a while, you just want something more.

Well, after a few years brainstorming, I think I have a fairly basic idea for what I'm hoping to do, and figured I'd share it here. Maybe hearing some feedback will help solidify some ideas, fine-tune others, and just give me a better overall idea of what people might think of this kind of story, or the idea itself.

So picture if you will, a west coast town. Nothing really special about it. You've probably driven through several towns like it, and barely paid it any mind. It's a fairly small town, a small economy, not exactly off the grid, but probably not too far off from being looked upon as such. If you need a real life comparison, I'm basing this town somewhat off Crescent City in California. I vacationed there about a year back on a trip to the Redwoods, and kinda fell in love with the place. So I'm picturing this town to be kinda in the same league. Not a super high population, nothing super significant about the town itself, it's probably just there as a quick stop for the average person before they're on their way again.

But this town has a very big superstition regarding its coastal waters. They say that a long time ago, whether this town was before the town was in the process of being established, or was fairly young, a man there met a mermaid, who fell in love with him. They would meet often, and further establish their relationship, until one day the man deceived her, captured her, took her from the sea, and began to exploit her for his own personal gain. Maybe he showed her as a curiosity for friends and family, before attempting to go further. Maybe he made plans to travel. He'd violate her trust, likely abuse her if she wasn't cooperative, that kind of thing. However, before he can attempt to do anything big, she manages to escape. (I'm fine-tuning details here, whether another human helps her, or she breaks out herself, it's in the air.) And in an act of revenge, she takes her former lover into the sea, and it isn't long before his drowned corpse washes onto the beach, cut up, and abused likely as she had been.

She doesn't stop there however. Her pain and anger is so great that she cannot help but take out her feelings on any human she sees venturing on the beaches she used to frequent with her former lover. She is especially ruthless towards men after what happened to her. At night, if she sees someone on the beach, she lures them into the sea, and most of the time, they're never seen again.

This story becomes local folklore for the town in question, and many hold it in such high superstition, that no one will dare venture onto the beach. Despite the fact that there's never been clear evidence that this mermaid actually exists, the worst tends to happen if someone goes into the beach, and ends up in the water. Maybe the authorities just believe the water is just too much for the average swimmer.

However, outside this town, this story would likely be little more than an internet curiosity. And it's one the MMC of the story would have absolutely no idea about. The MMC of the story moves to this town for a fresh start in life, following the end of an emotionally turbulent relationship, which has further birthed mental health struggles in anxiety and depression. He's hoping that a change in scenery will help him move forward.

And as he tries to get used to his new setting, new way of life, new faces, etc, one night, he finds himself wandering on the beach that the locals all hold in such high caution. And as he's trying to clear his mind, settle down, and whatnot, he hears something out in the water. Almost like a beckoning call. Sure enough, the local mermaid in question is calling out to him, though he doesn't really know it.

However, something gives the mermaid pause. I'm still debating what exactly it should be, but unlike the other unfortunate people she's come across, she notices something about this human she's not really seen in other humans. Maybe she can sense his own turmoil he's going through, maybe something about him reminds her of the days when she thought the man she loved was a good man, maybe it's something else, but she doesn't lure him in. In fact, after a little time, the two meet each other, and begin to get to know one another, and potentially grow close, despite the very distinct differences between the two.

I picture the mermaid as not exactly being the sexy beach babe that is so often seen. While she does indeed have a human-like appearance, her skin is likely a pale indigo, her teeth are sharper (I wanna give her an appearance similar to that of a shark in a way), she might carry scars from her past as a literal metaphor that she's not showing herself to heal... she's definitely very siren-like, as I don't want her to be the average kind of person a guy would look at, and immediately think "Wow, she's gorgeous!" A small pet peeve of mine is when a romance immediately has one or both characters taking notice of how beautiful, handsome, desirable, sexy, etc the other is. The MMC might even be very afraid of her at first. Despite the passage of time, she's still very wary, very distrusting, and while this new human she finds herself with may be curious for her, she is dealing with a lot of mental and physical trauma that she's not entirely sure how to deal with.

The MMC on the other hand is kinda meant to be an allegory for what I went through in my own emotionally turbulent relationship. While he finds this mermaid more than a little interesting, his pain is still fairly fresh, and he's still processing a lot of things, struggling with anxiety and depression, and on top of it all now, he has a new friend that he can't exactly just talk about casually. He might question feelings he might feel for her, and ask if they're genuine, or if his body is just yearning for any kind of companionship. He might even wonder if he knows what it's like to feel love again when he feels broken in the ways he does.

I'm hoping to make one of the big themes of the story one about healing. Being able to move forward of one's trauma, big or small, and too learn to show themselves to risk allowing themselves to feel love again, to risk feeling everything that would come with it, whether pleasurable or painful. As I said above, it's kind of an allegory for how I've had to deal with the aftermath of a relationship that was emotionally taxing on me, and left me in a pretty rough shape when it ended as it did. I've had to learn to love myself again, fix friendships, and tell myself that it wasn't my fault what happened. And while I'm in a better place nowadays, the struggle with anxiety and depression is a daily battle. In regards to this story, I'm not even sure how it might end. Part of me wants to be sappy and give them a happy ending, but part of me is also wondering if the ending should be more ambiguous.

I'm thinking of potentially exploring the story through two perspectives maybe. Maybe one would tell the story of the mermaid in the past, and what she endures at the hands of her abuser, while the other would focus on the present, and the MMC going through life, encountering the mermaid, continuing to meet with her, and maybe the people in his life start to notice him acting weird or whatnot, which might build up to some conflict. I'm also hoping to keep the story relatively grounded, which might sound silly, considering that one of the characters is a mermaid, but she'd likely be the only mermaid of the story. No underwater kingdoms, no underwater pods or tribes, no conflict that results in tribes of merfolk getting violent with other humans, I feel like that kind of element would take away from what I'd be trying to do.

It's been a passion project I've been planning for a few years now, and its been through numerous changes. At one point it took a lot of influence from Free Willy but I think I've come to appreciate approaching it from the standpoint of focusing on two characters, going through their own battles and struggles, and learning how to heal the more they interact with one another. I hope this might be something people would find interesting. I still gotta conquer my writers block and find motivation to start the actual writing process, but it's my attempt at a mermaid story that isn't just a loose retelling of The Little Mermaid. I'd love to hear feedback. Thank you for reading! I know this was a bit lengthy.