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[kittymunst3r]

 Nami turned another street corner and looked behind her to check if Ezreal had followed. He hadn’t. The siren felt a small wave of disappointment, both at herself and the man. Did she really count that little amongst the other guardians? Why did it matter so much to her to be counted as one of them? She had her own people, but why did that feel like a futile thing to say now? She had been gone from the ocean, her tribe for so long… was she really still one of them after all of this? As Nami struggled with her own internal thoughts she was almost too late when an ensnaring magic rose around her.

  A bright burst of light lit the cold dark of the empty city street as Nami slid backwards, her chest heaving in the sudden exertion of magic.

  “Nicely done, Nami,” a voice purred. “I haven’t had someone deflect my vines in a long time.”

  With a small wave of her hand Nami’s staff appeared, the ornate golden weapon long and bloomed with blue arcing waves that appeared deadly at the tip.

  “If you value your life,” Nami asked, her eyes narrowing on the dark form leaned against the nearby alley wall, “speak quickly.”

  A laugh came from the stranger as they stepped out and into the low glow of the city street. It was a woman, her full, long dark red hair woven back in a high, intricate braid. Clad head to toe in black leather it looked as though what the stranger wore was painted on. Cinched at her waist was a red corset, the silver of the clasps shining dully in the low light as her breasts swelled out with every breath. Everything about this woman’s body curved and dipped sensually.

  Before Nami’s brain could register the slight flick of the stranger’s hand the siren felt her hand grow numb. Looking down she realized an entire vine had crept out of a crack in the pavement and had now woven its way around her wrist that gripped the staff. The stranger closed her fist tightly and Nami cried out in pain as the vine’s strength squeezed so tight she thought for sure her bones were cracking.

  Nami tried to summon as much magic as she could but this seemed to only anger the stranger as she let out an annoyed sigh. Springing with up force, the cement crumbling away more vines appeared and gripped all parts of Nami.

  “That’s enough resisting, siren.” The woman said, her voice coming out like a seductive purr, although along the edges of her tone were strained. “Or I will crush you like a-” the woman threatened, stepping towards Nami, leveling their faces as Nami’s chin was gripped tightly by another vine.

  “Zyra!” A small, childlike voice snapped.

    “Greaaat, the buzz kill has arrived,” Zyra turned, feigning a smile towards the voice coming from behind Nami. More vines shifted to cover the siren’s mouth as Nami began to cry out again as the vines holding her tightened even further.

  “You’re going to make him mad…” The child spoke again, this time her voice sounding as though she would enjoy the thought of Zyra being punished.

  Nami attempted to breathe through the pain, realizing that with each inhale the vines wrapped around her torso now only squeezed her ribs tighter.

  “Enough.” A clear voice rang out and Nami felt her hair stand up and her teeth grit through the pain. It was a familiar voice and the power behind it sent a shiver of fear… and rage. The Golden Demon was here.

[kittymunst3r]

today 4.15.21

i’m over here looking at my fanfiction, and I have so many god damn ideas. Characters to join and things to explain and mysteries to sprinkle in. But what is my brain doing? fuck all..

I feel so bad for the people who actually read my fanfic and want more, but I’m just doing a good job at disappointing people. But above all, I’m disappointing myself. I made a promise to do better, to write more, and here I am, typing about how every time I go to actually write material my brain goes blank.

it doesn’t help that my partner doesn’t gaf. it doesn’t help that I’m literally always dealing with some form of crisis at home, or a screaming kid, or some such bullshit. 

is it too much to ask to be left alone for just a little bit so I can read? clearly.

i’m tired. and all I fucking WANT to do is write. I’m used to writers block, but this is depression apathy that’s just tainting everything around me and I’d just kindly like it to fuck off.

[kittymunst3r]

“Did she receive my gifts?” A voice asked in the darkness and Zoe shifted. Oh, this was going to be bad.

“Well- um- about that?” Zoe said, her normal comically bubbly voice sounded nervous and serious.

“She did not?” 

“No, sire,” Zoe said, immediately bowing her head in shame.

“How,” the sound of a round clicking in a chamber sounded and Zoe gulped, “disappointing.”

Ezreal watched as Nami left and stared solemnly at the tea cup the siren had left behind until steam no longer swirled skyward. Sighing, the man left the kitchen, moving through a set of swinging steel brushed doors and into a dimly lit cafe. It was apparent the shop was closed for the night, the large colored neon sign saying “Pantheon’s Bakery” stood unlit outside. Most tables had chairs put up, and the large glass windows had both shades and blinds closed, shutting out the world beyond.  

“Lux,” Ezreal said softly, approaching the mage who was bent over a pile of documents, her eyes focused on reading a page covered in runes as fixed, burning candles danced above her magically. “Lux, we have a problem.”

Pushing a strand of pink hair to the side, Lux let out a sigh and stretched a little. Dropping the paper down on the table Lux moved her pink eyes up towards Ezreal. 

“Yes, we do,” Lux said, her voice tired. “I just got the test results back on those flowers we got from Nami’s place. And this isn’t good, Ez.”

“About that-,” Ezreal scratched the back of his head and Lux’s brow rose.

“What happened?” Lux said, a flash of light flickering in her candied cotton colored eyes. 

“I told her about the lotus flowers, and her tracker,” Ezreal said, and with each addition to his sentence he watched as Lux’s shoulders grew more and more slumped. “And she knows I was placed to watch over her…” Ezreal couldn’t say anymore in case it might actually crush Lux.

“Please tell me that’s it,” Lux said wearily.

“She knows that she was suspected of working with the Golden Demon,” Ezreal said, regret dripping with every word. Why hadn’t he just kept his damn mouth shut? Something about Nami made the man feel sorry for her. He couldn’t understand why Lux and Ahri were so hellbent on keeping the siren at arm’s length.  

“Ez… You know Ahri wanted that kept confidential,” Lux said, clasping her hands in front of her face. “And so did I. There will be consequences for this. You need to bring Nami here.”

“Ah…” Ezreal shifted and Lux’s brow rose nearly to the ceiling. 

“What else is there?!” Lux said, her temper starting to flare. 

“She’s gone.” Ezreal looked away, hating himself for adding to Lux’s burden.

“Gone? Gone where?!” Lux said, standing suddenly, her chair toppling over. Anger was gone from the mage’s features that became replaced with raw fear.

“I brought her here, so we could talk.. Now she’s left to- ..to find the Demon.” Ezreal hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “But- she didn’t leave that long ago, we could still catch-” Ezreal began and Lux brought a hand over her mouth, her expression growing more horrified by the second. “Lux? Lux, what is it?”

“It was- the lotus-,” Lux was whispering as she looked up at Ezreal. “Nami’s been poisoned.”

Ezreal’s mouth dropped open, his eyes dropping down to the paper that Lux was looking at when he walked in. “We have to find her, Ezreal,” Lux said, determination set in her jaw. “Before it’s too late.”

[kittymunst3r]

Nami pressed her fingers against her forehead, closing her eyes as she attempted to gather her thoughts. It felt like it was her millionth time trying to recall the events that happened with the Golden Demon. Swallowing, Nami recalled Ahri’s words. 

I look forward to meeting with you again… 

Nami groaned outwardly and rolled over in her bed, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to herself. She should be tracking the Golden Demon, so why was she still here? Another frustrated grunt and the siren rolled on her back, flinging the pillow away as she stared up at the dark ceiling. The red light of her alarm clock red 2 a.m. and Nami pushed herself up from the bed, grabbing her favorite vanilla sweater and wrapping herself in it.

“How did you know I was there, demon?” Nami wondered aloud, now starting to pace her small apartment. With a huff, Nami pulled on a pair of baggy, grey sweatpants and pushed her feet in a warm pair of boots before leaving, needing the cold air of winter to comfort her. 

The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, the orange cast from the street lights glowed warmly against the sharp bite of the wintery air. Nami took a deep breath and let it out, watching as the air puffed out in front of her. Continuing her trek down the street, she passed the familiar bright shine of the corner convenience store. Perhaps she’d buy a tea, she thought, reaching into her pockets before she noticed a familiar streak of blonde hair. 

“Ezreal?” Nami called out, the streak of blonde hair moving towards a nearby motorcycle stopped and turned. 

“Nami?” Ezreal cocked his head to the side then turned from the bike and smiled. “What are you doing here?”

The siren shrugged and glanced over his shoulder and looked around for his shopping bags. 

“I could ask the same of you,” Nami replied.

“I sort of work here part time,” Ezreal said with a smile and pushed a hand nervously through his hair.

“But I thought you worked for a museum?” Nami asked. This question caused the man to let out a nervous laugh while he shook his head.

“Ah- that’s uh- that’s a bit complicated. Right now I work here,” Ezreal replied.

“This must be Guardian related, right?” Nami asked with a smirk. Ezreal was a terrible liar.

“Actually-,” Ezreal began and froze, his eyes looking past Nami and off in the distance. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?” He asked suddenly.

Nami, caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation, gave Ezreal a puzzled look. 

“No, I actually live nearby-,” Nami hooked a thumb behind her. 

“I’ll take you there,” Ezreal said, an obvious edge in his voice.

Nami swallowed, suddenly feeling the air grow tense. 

“What’s wro-,” Nami began and Ezreal stepped forward, standing so close to the siren that she nearly yelped. 

“You have a shadow-,” Ezreal said, his voice incredibly quiet, then his hands were on either side of her, rubbing up and down with enthusiasm. “You look cold,” he said, louder. “Let’s go for some tea or coffee.”

“Yeah, okay,” Nami said, feeling her stomach tightening up. She wasn’t sure why, but she followed Ezreal’s lead. Lux’s diary was right, something about his man just made him easy to follow.   

Ezreal carefully handed Nami a helmet, his movements were quick but not in a panicked sort of way. It felt strange seeing Ezreal with such a serious, focused  expression when as far as Nami had known him he always held a boyishly charming sort of smile. 

“Hang on tight,” Ezreal said as they both boarded his motorcycle.

Nami swallowed hard, fighting the urge to stay and fight whoever was following her. It was against the siren’s nature to run from any fight. After all, she wielded the Tidecaller, no one could escape the drowning wrath she could bring down if someone wanted a fight.

Turning the key to his motorcycle Ezreal gave a slight shake of his head, as if he were reading Nami’s thoughts.

“I mean it, hold tight,” Ezreal said and Nami leaned forward, her arms wrapping around the man’s waist. “And don’t look behind us.”

With a jolt the pair were off, and Nami felt a surge of adrenaline as her heart pounded in her ears. Prior to now the siren had never ridden on a motorcycle and it was exhilarating and she could understand why Ezreal owned one.

Ezreal blazed through the city, his tail light leaving a streak of red to follow them in the dark of night. Nami half expected for some kind of twisted arms to reach from behind and pluck her from the bike but no such nightmare came. Ezreal continued through the downtown area, the traffic heavier as the man weaved expertly through cars. Nami lost track of time as the pair went down street after street in the most bizarre patterns. Finally, Ezreal stopped after entering a dark alley and the man gave a sigh before turning the engine off.

Swinging her leg over, Nami got off the motorcycle and felt herself wobble. There was an unusual numbness in her extremities and Ezreal chuckled, helping to steady Nami while removing his helmet and ruffling his disheveled hair. 

“That was close,” Ezreal said, his voice weary as he too got off the motorcycle.

“What was close? What’s going on?” Nami asked, crossing her arms. 

Ezreal put his helmet on the seat of the motorcycle and looked down either side of the dark alley.  

“Not here. Let’s get that tea,” Ezreal said, motioning for the siren to follow. “You look like an ice cube, and I know I certainly feel like one.”

Nami felt like stamping her feet and demanding answers right then and there but pressed the urge back, knowing that at least she would be getting some answers. And Ezreal was starting to look rather blue. 

“Very well, lead the way.” Nami nodded and Ezreal left the alley, crossing the dark, empty street. A few more minutes of weaving through more alleyways and Ezreal came to a steel door, it’s rust and decay that chipped the yellow-white paint made it look like it hadn’t been opened in years, decades even. 

“After you,” Ezreal said, opening the door with a loud creak and making a slight bow.

Nami could see a faint glow of light further into the dark room and stepped inside the large building. Where were they, she wondered to herself as Nami felt a blanket of warmth lay across her she continued inward. The squeak of the rusted door closed behind her as Ezreal followed closely behind. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Ezreal said quietly in the dim light.

“I’m not afraid,” Nami shot back, looking over at him, her face serious.

“That’s either really brave,” Ezreal said as a smile split his features. They came to another door, brighter light showing from under the door and Ezreal continued, “or really foolish.” 

Ezreal pulled the door open and Nami could see a brightly lit kitchen. It was definitely a commercial kitchen, and in excellent condition. All of the appliances here seemed new, their stainless steel surfaces sparkling in cleanliness. 

“Where are we?” Nami asked, walking through the kitchen. 

“Somewhere safe,” Ezreal said, moving to one of the stoves and picking up a tea kettle. “For now, anyways.” 

Nami watched as the man busied himself with getting two mugs, setting them on a counter and assembling the tea.

“How do you like your tea?” Ezreal asked and Nami nearly scoffed at the sheer normality of his question. Sometimes it was hard for the Marai siren to understand that this was how the people of land really lived. How did they like their tea? What would they wear to the spring formal? Did Brian get eliminated on that one show? 

Nami thought of the darkness that seeped at the fringes of her home, threatening to spread throughout the realm unchecked. That was the real world. Her world, and it was hard for Nami to admit that sometimes she dreamed of a time where she didn’t have to return to the abyss and fight against the never ending darkness.

“Strong, with sugar,” Nami said distractedly and Ezreal smirked.

“Of course,” Ezreal chuckled with a shake of his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nami asked and the man laughed again.

“Did you know that some ancient cultures correlate how you take your tea with what kind of soul you have?” Ezreal mused, starting to pour the steaming water from the kettle in one of the cups. 

“And what do these ancients say about how I like mine?” Nami asked, her head tilting curiously. Ezreal looked over at Nami as he finished pouring.

“That you’re like Lux,” he replied, bringing the siren her cup of tea. “You are built of strength, but weak to matters of the heart.” 

Nami felt her eyebrow raise as she looked on at Ezreal.

“Seriously?” Nami asked and Ezreal looked at her with a straight face.

“Oh definitely,” Ezreal said, his tone serious. “The ancients were wise. You’ll end up in love with a total scoundrel if you’re not careful.” Ezreal sucked in a breath before a snicker slipped out, his face splitting into a big smile as Nami blew out a breath of a laugh.

“Ezreal!” Nami said, pushing on him and he yelped out.

“Hey, Nami! Careful! I have hot tea!” Ezreal said, his laughter bubbling out. 

This was definitely how Lux described him in her diary, Nami thought to herself. How he was behaving earlier was totally out of character for him. So what happened? What was going on?

“Okay, Ezreal. I’ve been pretty patient, which, if you didn’t know, is not my strong suit.” Nami took a tentative sip of tea and found it to be delightfully warm and fragrant. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Yeah,” Ezreal shifted uneasily, his brows furrowing together as he began to pace back and forth. “First, you should know that- well, it’s not that no one trusts you- it’s just, this doesn’t usually happen…”

Nami blew out a breath, putting her cup on a counter.

“Ezreal. Start at the beginning and don’t skip around,” Nami said trying to keep her impatience from turning into annoyance. What did he mean by trusting her? Why was Ezreal at that convenience store? Nami felt her eyes narrow and Ezreal began to look nervous.

“I don’t know what I’m not supposed to say-,” Ezreal said, his eyes rolling as he tried to explain, his hands twisting nervously. 

“Then say it all,” Nami said, her voice commanding and Ezreal bit his lip.

“Fineee. But Lux is gonna kill me, that is if Ahri doesn’t get to me first…” Ezreal’s voice trailed and Nami snapped her fingers. 

“Ezreal. Focus.” Nami bit out, starting to sound exasperated.

“Ahri thinks that there’s a reason why the Golden Demon left you alive. You spent so long chasing him down, always narrowly missing this time and that-,” Ezreal’s voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air. Nami felt understanding beginning to dawn.

“She thinks I’m a spy for the Golden Demon,” Nami said, swallowing hard.

“I wouldn’t say spy…” Ezreal said, crossing his arms and shifting. It was clear that he was growing more and more uncomfortable as the conversation continued. 

“You were placed at the convenience store to watch me, weren’t you?” Nami asked, but she knew the answer already. Of course Ezreal had been sent there to watch her. The Star Guardians had been betrayed somehow before, although Lux’s diary was short on a great many important details on exactly what transpired. 

“Yes,” Ezreal confirmed but began to speak quickly. “It’s just not like the Demon to just leave anyone alive ya’ know. Jinx said when she found you he was speaking to you?” 

Nami looked away from Ezreal, remembering the sound of the Demon’s entrancing voice as it felt permanently etched in her mind.

Magnificent…

Nami shivered. “I don’t remember much.” The siren tapped her forehead where it still displayed stitches and a large purple bruise. “But I do remember his gun, and some sort of gas contraption. It had to be what kept my powers suppressed. But him speaking to me doesn’t explain why you were sent to keep watch on me.” 

“Well, I was only meant to keep an eye on your comings and goings. Then I noticed that you started to have someone follow you.” Ezreal shifted and sighed. “I thought maybe you had a boyfriend, or admirer.”

Nami blanched. Her? Something as trivial as a boyfriend? It wasn’t that Nami was unwelcome to the idea, but how could hearts and romance belong in her world, the same world as the darkness? Nami shook her head fiercely, a flush tingeing the peaks of her cheeks. “No- no boyfriend.”

Ezreal nodded. “I had to be sure. So I asked Lux about it, and she confirmed. But the flowers at your doorstep…”

“Flowers?” Nami asked, unaware of any flowers left at her apartment.

Ezreal gave a solemn nod. “They were lotus flowers.”

Nami felt her stomach seize up as she recalled the last blurred image of the Golden Demon; a white lotus flower blooming at his feet.

“What happened to them?” Nami asked, swallowing hard. “They were intercepted by me,” Ezreal said. “I thought they may have been some sort of trap set by the Demon. We had the flowers extensively tested but nothing came of it. Lux thought-,” Ezreal hesitated and Nami’s brow rose. 

“What?” Nami could feel anger welling up within her. 

“Well… she thought maybe it was some sort of signal. For you to- um-,” Ezreal looked at the ground, as if too embarrassed to go on. 

“For me to what?” Nami felt something inside her snap. What had happened to their starting anew? Was that just a trick? A way to manipulate her, gain her trust?

Ezreal frowned, his brows knotting together. “Nami… Lux- she-,” the man faltered, “she had to be careful. Ahri ordered-” but Nami moved away from Ezreal and moved through the kitchen.

“Screw Ahri’s orders,” Nami said defiantly and Ezreal winced. “Is this supposed to be the great Star Guardians?” Nami scoffed, crossing her arms. “All of you are just a bunch of squabbling children, all of you ungrateful for a power bestowed on you that could change the fate of this realm for the better. Ahri’s ordered to keep me at arm’s length, has she? Me, the only one in this lot chasing down a demented killer? I’ve seen his victims…” Nami’s eyes looked distant as she recalled the memory. “I’ve seen him hunt. What he’s done, his power…” Nami’s attention snapped to the man, her voice quiet. “Ahri-,” Nami shook her head. No, Ahri couldn’t have that much sway. “Lux thinks I’ve been compromised? That I’m somehow in league with the Golden Demon?” 

Ezreal only nodded and Nami felt disappointment wash over her. And oh how she loathed the feeling. She had told herself from her first steps on land that finding the Moonstone, protecting her people, it would come first over everything. No matter what. And yet, here she was, entangled in this Star Guardian mess because it was the first real lead she had in finding the missing stone. 

For all that was said between her and Lux, the new bud of trust that had sprouted between them was surely dead now. The Marai siren would never again trust Luxanna Crownguard. A hardness grew in Nami’s eyes as she tried to process the betrayal felt within her.

“Nami-” Ezreal started, his eyes looking sad.

“I’ve heard enough.” Nami’s eyes went to the ground. “You- you guardians let me sit as an easy, open target for him. And I’m just supposed to be okay with that? He leaves sick gifts at my home and you say nothing.” The siren balled her hands into fists, trying to quell the surge of magic that rolled off her. Nami could feel a tear start to roll down her cheek and looked up to see Ezreal reach out to comfort her but she slapped his hand away. “Lux made me track down an untraceable beast. Forced me into being a part of his sick rituals of slaughter, and I could do nothing. Save no one. All so I could be a part of this elite club, to get answers I needed for my people. The Star Guardians.” Nami didn’t hide the venom in her voice as she practically spit out her last sentence, causing Ezreal to flinch. “You’re all weak children.”

“We’re not- Lux isn’t-,” Ezreal started, his hand reaching up defensively.

“You’re trying to defend her? Trying to defend the suspicions that somehow I’m involved with a demented killer?” Nami smirked and rubbed a hand over her face. “Unbelievable.”

“I don’t think-,” Ezreal started but Nami shook her head.

“Do you really think it matters what you think, Ezreal? You have these unimaginable powers. Powers to change the fate of this star- to help so many…” Nami felt her mind drift to home, to the terrifying darkness that lurked beneath the ocean waves. 

“We do help the people of this star,” Ezreal countered and Nami gave him a look that flashed momentarily with sadness. 

“Not all the people.” Nami started to leave and Ezreal grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Hey- don’t go,” Ezreal continued, “there’s more I need to say.”

“For once in my life,” Nami said, peeling the man’s fingers back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“At least tell me where you’re going,” Ezreal said quietly. 

“To kill the demon,” Nami said simply and Ezreal’s eyes widened.

“Nami, that’s not a good idea.” 

“Of course it is,” the siren replied. “If I can destroy the indestructible Golden Demon, then I won’t need the powers of the Star Guardians or the moonstone to save my people. I will know that my strength can surpass any darkness. And any star guardian.”

Ezreal said nothing and Nami left, leaving the same way she came in. The siren stepped out onto the street and began to walk, unknowing of what part of the city she was in. It didn’t matter, she didn’t need to get anywhere. She only needed her shadow to catch up with her.

[kittymunst3r]

hold on a fucking second. delaware is a state?? i thought it was a river? or is the river more important than the state? why don't i know this? (i should mention i don't like in america, i'm just confused)

there is delaware (state) and delaware (river) 

both are equally strange

the state is a tiny little cryptid thing

the rive is a monster that spans new york, pennsylvania, new jersey and delaware. also washington crossed it once and that was like kinda a big deal i guess. like crossing the rubicon in rome.

the state tries to me more important with its “im the first state!!!” bs (seriously its even on the fucking license plates) but we all know. its the river.

[kittymunst3r]

I find myself thinking of you more and more these days. I wonder if you think about me too

[kittymunst3r]

[kittymunst3r]

“Xayah?” Rakan called out tentatively, his knuckle rapping against a closed wooden door. No answer met the Vastayan as he cracked open the entryway and walked into the dark room beyond. A strand of long blue-green hair fell over his eyes and Rakan pushed it away as he continued inside the dark sparring room. Weapons were haphazardly tossed about, training dummies reflecting a history of brutal damage. 

“Baby?” The man stood in the center of the room, his eyes looking around for any sign of his partner. Just as he turned to leave Rakan was met with a childlike giggle that drifted through the darkness. Instinctively Rakan felt his hands ball into fists of rage. “Zoe, what are you doing here?” There was a deep disdain in Rakan’s voice as he looked around for the child.

“Ohhh, Rakannn. That’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life,” a sickly sweet voice chimed. 

A bright purple ball of light appeared, illuminating the room brightly and casting long shadows from the targets up the walls. Rakan’s lips turned up in a grimace as his eyes met the cynical face of Zoe. Perhaps at one time Zoe was just an ordinary child, but now she was a creature twisted in darkness, her moon-like eyes reflecting irises of different colors that gleamed with madness. The ruffled purple dress she wore fluttered mutely in the air. 

“You’re the one that killed me to begin with,” Rakan said with venom.

“And I gave it back. That makes you mine-,” Zoe said with a grin. “You and your feathery mate.”

Rakan felt a dark rage inside him surge, a growl rumbling through his chest. His mind raced, urging him to do unspeakably horrible things to his captor. Destroy the child, Vastayan. For Xayah. For your people. For the realm. The whispers continued but Rakan ignored them, instead moving towards the exit. Rakan was sick of Zoe and her twisted games, he would get Xayah out of this place, take her home, remind her of the beautiful, wild magic there. Maybe- if he could just get away…

Zoe appeared in front of Rakan, blocking his exit with her small, floating frame as she met his eyes. A huff came from Zoe as her nostrils flared, arms crossed and looking as though she were the very picture of a child not getting their way.

“There is nothing you can do, Rakan,” the girl said, her face twisting into a smile as though to taunt him. “I’ve got my hooks deep in Xayah and soon-,” Zoe hovered a finger just above Rakan’s heart before pressing against his skin there which let out a bright burst dark purple and black energy. “Soon, they’ll be deep within you. I can already sense the darkness spreading there. Give in to the whispers, Rakan. They’ll set you free-,” Zoe began but was interrupted by a hard slap of Rakan’s hand.

“Don’t touch me,” Rakan snapped, his eyes burning furiously. “I will leave this place with Xayah. I will get her out. Even if it kills me… again.”

Zoe giggled at this exchange, the sound sinister.

“Oh, it will kill you,” Zoe spun around in the air and began to float away. “And I’ll make sure it hurts extra bad the second time around.”

Rakan exited the room, the door slamming harshly as Zoe continued to float around the sparring room. 

“Your old magic is fading more and more each day,” the young girl said, her tone both pleased and satisfied. “He can’t even sense you anymore. How wonderful!”

Xayah stepped from the shadows, her face looking crestfallen for a moment as anger began to shape her features. An occurrence that was beginning to happen more and more often.

“He’s holding on so hard,” Xayah said, a trace of admiration drowned in the annoyance. “You’re pressing him too hard though,” she said looking over at Zoe. “He needs time to realize I don’t need saving.”

Zoe shrugged, holding up her hands as she rolled around in the air.

“The sooner he joins us, the sooner we can make our move,” Zoe said impatiently. “You know how he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I know that,” Xayah said, flicking her wrist and summoning a feather as she played with it. “But-,” and with a flash Xayah released the feather at Zoe, the object piercing the young girl’s violet dress and pinning her to a nearby column, “if a single square inch of Rakan is hurt,” Xayah moved effortlessly towards Zoe who looked on in surprise. “It will be you who dies this time, Zoe. Not him.”

[kittymunst3r]

Cheep and easy ways to find a basis for your plot.

When you have characters:

What does your character aspire to do or become? Making that aspiration really hard for them to reach.

What does your character love? Take it away from them and make them earn it back.

What does your character hate? Bind them too it and make them work to get rid of it.

When you have a world:

What is the most chaotic thing that can happen to this world’s politics? Find the character this chaos would effect the most and see what they do about it.

What is the most dangerous thing that can happen within this magic system? Figure out who would come to stop or reverse it and see what they do.

Who is the most damaging person in this world and what are they doing? Figure out who of those they hurt might rise up and defeat them.

When you have only spite:

What story do you absolutely hate the execution of? Take the very basic concept of its plot and build it into the story you wish it produced.

What plot structure do you enjoy but wish writers would be more original with? Take it and then throw a dozen spins on it.

** Remember to mix and match for more elaborate plot structures. Carry on this format with your own tricks to digging up basic plot structures!

[kittymunst3r]

having a very bad day. bad week. bad fucking life? Is this depression ever going to let up? I guess it doesn’t really help when your own mother genuinely wishes you didn’t exist.

ever just wish you could take a break from needing to take a break? I just want to go back to functioning like normal. or at least a better kind of normal. or just not like fucking this? how can I love myself when my own mind hates me?

[kittymunst3r]

today 3.3.21

today isn’t nearly as hard as yesterday was. but then, the day isn’t over.

I’m going to close all my tabs except for gdocs, and just write. I’ve been so laser focused on trying to find other writers to form a sort of ecosystem of motivation and support that I’m getting away from what I’m really online to do. And that’s to write.

I guess if people want to follow me, want to talk to me, they’ll be here. until then, I’ll go back to the roots of my re-entering the online society; scribbling page after page of crushing feelings, insane theories and plot twists that make you want to slap a tree. not that the tree deserved it. you’re a terrible person for slapping a tree.

[kittymunst3r]

chinese artist 黄有维 huang youwei

[kittymunst3r]

yall ever pick up a chonky fountain pen, pretend to puff a cigar and suddenly you’re daydreaming about being old enough to drink red wine, writing letters to your lover in candle light while you glance at a single rose in a jar they gifted you wearing plaid trousers and a green jumper

[kittymunst3r]

people who know random things are so platonically attractive to me like yes let me be your best friend tell me about the history of liquid soap

[kittymunst3r]

do you ever just accidentally stumble across the most delicious sentence in the middle of a book and are forced to stop just to revel in its beauty??

[kittymunst3r]

In Ether

Photographed by Freddie Ardley - Instagram @freddieardley

[kittymunst3r]

THE MISCONCEPTION ABOUT COMMENTING ON FIC

I’ve read all kinds of posts both from writers and readers lamenting about comments on fic. Authors are upset when they don’t get any, readers don’t know what kinds of comments to leave, etc. And it finally clicked in my brain why I think a lot of people don’t bother writing comments. 

And this is what it boils down to:

Writers do not want praise.  We just want to talk about our story. 

I can’t speak for everyone obviously - but I think the majority of writers don’t care so much for the “omg you’re a brilliant writer!!” comments as much as we just want to hear your thoughts on the story. Even if it’s just your thoughts as you’re reading of “oooh x happened! I can’t believe y said this! What’s going to happen now that z has happened?!” We literally just want to talk about what we’ve written like you would with a friend about a tv show. We’re not out here demanding praise like some entitled narcissist. 

While praising our writing skills or writing style is appreciated, it doesn’t need to be said on every fic and every chapter that you read. If you regularly comment on someone’s work that’s telling enough that you like our technique. Readers shouldn’t feel pressured to have to praise a writer’s abilities every time they want to comment. 

In the grand scheme of things, talking about the fic/chapter is actually more helpful to us writers instead of spewing praise. It’s the same with artwork. As nice as it is that people tell me “wow your art is so pretty!” it’s a LOT more useful to me to get comments like “I love their expressions!” or “the lighting on this is gorgeous!” because then I know WHAT people are liking about it. If no one ever comments on my backgrounds, I now know what to improve. If most people comment on liking the expressions, I now know the strong points of my art and can use it to my advantage to make even better art in the future. 

The same goes for fic. If multiple people tell me they liked a certain part of the story I now know that things similar to that are a hit. It’s feedback I can use to improve the story and give my readers more of what they want. Without that I have no idea what they like about the fic.

Talking with a writer about their story also gives them inspiration!! Nothing gets us more in the mood to work on a fic than to have people wanting to talk about it. A lot of times just talking about one of my fics with someone will give me that push to continue working on it. Getting a comment that just says “great chapter” or “you’re a great writer” doesn’t do much to motivate us to continue that particular fic. But if you talk about the story and the characters it gives us motivation to continue working on it, may even give us ideas for future chapters. I would hope that those of you with “comment anxiety” find this approach so much easier than trying to praise the writer every time you read.

So that fic the author hasn’t updated in forever that you’re dying to read? Talk to them about the fic and the elements of the story! It will make the writer want to talk to you about it and will get their mind thinking about it, hopefully inspiring them to continue where they left off. Fics that are left in silence are more likely to be abandoned or even deleted because nothing feels worse than putting your heart into a story to have no one say anything about it. 

TLDR; Writers do not want praise, we just want to talk with our readers about the story itself, and these are the kinds of comments that inspire us to keep writing more.