[Fic] "Two Guys and a Girl," part 3 -- Final Fantasy 7 (Mercverse AU)

This story is set in icedark_elf's mercverse AU, about ten years before the main canon of the AU... insofar as it can be said to have any canon at all. So. "Two Guys and a Girl," in which I bend, staple, and otherwise mutilate normal game canon involving trips to Nibelheim, because seriously, what's the point of crack AUs if you can't play around like this?

( Two Guys and a Girl: Part 3 )

End of Part 3

Back to Part 2

Continue to Part 4

original post and comments

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In other news, I've also been working on "Guardian" (chapter 7 is at 1,400 words) and "Secrets" (chapter 11 is at 625 words). Somehow, though, things are not going as fast as I'd prefer. I come home from work, I sit down to write, and the heat just saps my energy so I'm lucky to get half as many words on the page as I have floating through my head when I sit down.

I hate summer.

Of course, if summer disappeared, I'd hate that even more -- I'm the sort of person who loves to hate each season in turn -- but still, I cannot stand the heat and the humidity, especially since I have no air conditioning and I walk everywhere. In Ithaca. Which is built on really steep hills.

*faints from heat exhaustion*

[Fic] "Two Guys and a Girl," part 3 -- Final Fantasy 7 (Mercverse AU)

This story is set in icedark_elf's mercverse AU, about ten years before the main canon of the AU... insofar as it can be said to have any canon at all. So. "Two Guys and a Girl," in which I bend, staple, and otherwise mutilate normal game canon involving trips to Nibelheim, because seriously, what's the point of crack AUs if you can't play around like this?

( Two Guys and a Girl: Part 3 )

End of Part 3

Back to Part 2

Continue to Part 4

original post and comments

------------------------------------

In other news, I've also been working on "Guardian" (chapter 7 is at 1,400 words) and "Secrets" (chapter 11 is at 625 words). Somehow, though, things are not going as fast as I'd prefer. I come home from work, I sit down to write, and the heat just saps my energy so I'm lucky to get half as many words on the page as I have floating through my head when I sit down.

I hate summer.

Of course, if summer disappeared, I'd hate that even more -- I'm the sort of person who loves to hate each season in turn -- but still, I cannot stand the heat and the humidity, especially since I have no air conditioning and I walk everywhere. In Ithaca. Which is built on really steep hills.

*faints from heat exhaustion*

wherein Liz talks about depression and other personal stuff

Apropos of nothing in particular, I was rereading one of my old journals yesterday (paper journal, not online), which I basically stopped using when I got a livejournal at the end of 2003.

And wow, I was not a happy person back then. ( Even in late 2003... )

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In a related topic, I think I may have figured out why I tried so hard not to call my parents during those years, even though I desperately needed human contact. Here is an article that talks (in a glancing, surface way) about how to help family or friends who are suffering from depression.

( My dad is a great person, but... )

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It is, as I said, weird to look back on how much I've changed over the past few years... heck, even just this past one year. I don't think it's affected my writing much. I was always writing, sometimes even during the absolute rock bottom of my depressive periods, and I'm not sure anyone could tell, from outside, how I felt about myself from my stories.

I don't think it's affected my online persona much either; I tend to keep these things pretty close to my vest, except for rare confessional urges like this.

But I am so happy that I'm not in that place anymore. I think I've finally come to terms with myself. I hadn't really noticed -- I still have bad days, like anyone -- but it's been a long time since I felt I had to justify my happiness, or since I felt guilty just for existing.

It's taken me nearly five years since I admitted I had a problem, but by god, I think I made it.

wherein Liz talks about depression and other personal stuff

Apropos of nothing in particular, I was rereading one of my old journals yesterday (paper journal, not online), which I basically stopped using when I got a livejournal at the end of 2003.

And wow, I was not a happy person back then. ( Even in late 2003... )

------------------------------

In a related topic, I think I may have figured out why I tried so hard not to call my parents during those years, even though I desperately needed human contact. Here is an article that talks (in a glancing, surface way) about how to help family or friends who are suffering from depression.

( My dad is a great person, but... )

------------------------------

It is, as I said, weird to look back on how much I've changed over the past few years... heck, even just this past one year. I don't think it's affected my writing much. I was always writing, sometimes even during the absolute rock bottom of my depressive periods, and I'm not sure anyone could tell, from outside, how I felt about myself from my stories.

I don't think it's affected my online persona much either; I tend to keep these things pretty close to my vest, except for rare confessional urges like this.

But I am so happy that I'm not in that place anymore. I think I've finally come to terms with myself. I hadn't really noticed -- I still have bad days, like anyone -- but it's been a long time since I felt I had to justify my happiness, or since I felt guilty just for existing.

It's taken me nearly five years since I admitted I had a problem, but by god, I think I made it.