#but anyway i'm posting this as a way to force myself to finish all those half written fics eventually

[aphelea]

i promise i'll write tiertice week fic at some point (probably. hopefully. maybe)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hey Derin, can I ask you a question or two about publishing? (If no, close your eyes for the next bit and click near where you remember the delete button was.)

I'm writing something with the dream of publishing it one day and I'm considering all avenues at this stage. What led you to publishing serially online? What are the pros of your experience doing that?

Asking you because I was looking over your site earlier today and thinking about how comfortable a place the internet feels - less of a big step than traditional publishing, or even putting out a whole story at once for self-publishing.

I've never pursued trad publishing and have no plans to ever do so, it was immediately obvious that it wasn't for me, so I can't give you like, comparisons. I only even got into indie publishing because my readers were demanding ebooks and paperbacks so I just shrugged and got them made. Sometimes I get asked trad vs. indie publishing questions that I do not have the experience to answer.

This question, though, I can answer. I didn't sit down and go "how should I publish these? Online, or through a trad publisher, or what?" I approached web serial writing directly as a career without considering publishing my writing as books at all; that was never on the radar until the readers wanted them. And the reason I started writing a web serial was simple -- it was a hobby that suited my lifestyle.

I'd written serial fiction before; fanfiction, some r/hfy stuff, just whatever I felt like, and I had a serious problem experienced by many casual writers -- I tended not to finish stuff. The stuff that had never made it to the web was even worse; I had so many novels in progress on my hard drive that I'd gotten to the end of the first act of, before moving onto a new idea. I needed something to do with my time (I'd moved back to my hometown to spend time with my dying grandfather and was unemployed) and posting a web serial with a strict schedule and a patreon seemed like the best way to force myself to actually finish my stories. If a handful of people were giving me a couple of buck a month, I wouldn't be able to just drift off to something else; I'd have to finish the story.

And it worked. I got a new job and wrote Curse Words on my off weeks, then that job ended and my Patreon was paying my new mortgage and suddenly this was just kind of my job now. And then enough people were asking for ebooks and paperbacks that I had to figure out how to make those happen. And this is kind of my life now I guess.

In terms of pros I would say:

Low barrier to entry/small steps of progression: You can just start publishing on a website for free whenever you want. You can make your own website for free and publish on that (I did). It takes five minutes or less to learn how to do and you don't need to buy anything. Your time commitment is mostly Writing The Story, which is presumably what you want to be spending your time on anyway. If you do it for 2 months and decide you hate it? You can stop. No harm, no foul.

No boss: You're beholden to your patrons and nobody else. You can write whatever the fuck you want, wherever the fuck you want, however often you want. The only deadline is the schedule that you yourself set, and you can set it to suit your lifestyle.

Payment model: The patreon/ko-fi sponsorship model is vastly superior, in my opinion, to making money via book sales. There's too many factors involved to really say if you make more or less money on Patreon, but what it has is predictability. Patrons come and go, but slowly. I can predict my monthly income from my supporters to within a hundred dollars or so. This is a massive advantage when you have bills to pay. Book sales surge unpredictably, and while you can bank on things like advances if you go the trad publishing route, these are few and far between.

Time: There are minimal delays in web serial publishing. No waiting months or years at a time for your book to chew through the machinery of a publisher, no long delays as your agent works or contracts are negotiated. Indie publishing is faster but still has far more delays than web serial publishing; most notably, you have to write the entire book first, often with little idea of how well it's going to perform. I don't do well with waiting periods or having to coordinate timing with others, so web serial publishing works best for me.

Marketability: Web serials have a far smaller audience than books, but they're also easier to market to that audience. For one thing, they're usually free, and it's a lot easier to convince someone to try a free story instead of buying one. For another, their one-chapter-at-a-time nature feels like less of a commitment and less intimidating to some people, even though they are traditionally much longer than books tend to be. Also, their chapter-by-chapter nature allows speculation and jokes and fanart and stuff to be spread while the story is still going, which is great marketing, especially when readers end up talking about it far longer than they would talk about a book (because they're reading it chapter-by-chapter for far longer).

But the biggest advantage in marketability is what I call 'rolling weight enthusiasm'.

When you're pushing a cart or something, it takes a lot of effort to get started, but once you're cruising at a consistent speed, you can rely on momentum to do half the work for you. You can build more and more speed with the same effort, because a rolling weight is maintaining that momentum. Writing a web serial is a lot like that; the consistent release schedule means that if you can get people invested, it's much easier to keep them invested, because they're waiting a very short period of time (a few days to a week, depending on your release schedule) to get more of the story. If you're releasing books, there might be more than a year between releases; you can keep a dedicated audience interested for that long, but it's much harder to hold onto the casual readers. There are so, so many book series that I've only read half of because at some point a new book was released and I didn't notice. If you write and publish books, you have to do a big part of the marketing all over again to let people know that the next one is out. Web serials don't have this problem. When's the next chapter out? soon enough that the previous chapter is still fresh in your mind. soon enough that you probably don't have time to finish the fanart this one made you think of.

Immediate feedback: Another great thing about web serials is that you can watch the audience reaction in real time. Not only that but, unlike with a book that people read all at once, you get very detailed feedback specific to each chapter. I don't mean people telling you about the story; reader suggestions and 'constructive criticism' is almost universally useless and can generally be thrown out. If you trust somebody's writing and editing skills enough to take feedback from them, you should ask that person directly; random readers are unlikely to be experts and unlikely to have accurate advice.

Instead, watch them discuss it amongst themselves. What did they get right away, and what are they confused about? what did they react most strongly to; is the dominant emotional reaction to the various characters vaguely in line with what you intended? Check the theories; how well are they predicting future events? (If everyone is guessing the Big Twist, then you need to put more effort into selling it so that it's not a let down; the less surprising a twist is, the better the writing has to be to pull it off. But if nobody is guessing the Big Twist, then you have insufficiently foreshadowed it. You're looking for a very high population of readers being accurate about the information they're expected to have gleaned, and a small population being accurate about twists and stuff, and you want that small population to grow as they get closer to the twist.) Checking these reactions can give you a better idea of what you need to emphasise, clarify, or foreshadow in the text.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

****************************************************

Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don’t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

****************************************************

As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[lynaferns]

The Forest On The Other Side

Chapter 1: I want to go home.

Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]

EDIT: This fic is now on AO3

A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine. Until night falls and someone else joins to play...

Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.

This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.

I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.

AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.

The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.

Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.

Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.

Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.

CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.

Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)

Welp.

Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.

We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.

Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.

It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.

Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.

I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.

There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.

And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.

I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.

I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.

I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-

I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-

They're getting closer.

I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.

...

...

...

Where am I?

Fuck.

Where am I?

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

…

—

Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.

...

I'm going to disappear.

...

For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-

...

There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...

What's this?

I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.

In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.

Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?

A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.

It's still there.

…

For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.

...

...And the rock? It's not there.

I go back and look from inside the portal.

The rock is there.

...

I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?

Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.

Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.

...

Welp.

I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.

I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?

A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.

...

I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.

...

Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!

Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.

This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.

*cling*

...?

I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.

There's nothing inside.

?

There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.

*...*

Nothing.

I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.

—

I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.

*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.

Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...

“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”

“-HEEEEELLO!”

“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.

“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”

“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.

“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.

It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”

He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”

“Yeah- but- WHY?”

“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”

“...What?”

“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.

“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.

“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”

“…”

“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”

“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”

“...” “No idea!”

“...”

“...”

I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”

“...” “You don't seem like it.”

*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”

He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.

“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...

“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”

He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.

“um...”

“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.

I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”

“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”

“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.

“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”

“...”

“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”

I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”

“...Consequences...?”

“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”

“...”

“...”

“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.

“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.

“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.

I shrugged.

“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”

“...”

“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.

“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”

“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”

I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.

“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.

“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”

He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”

“You're still not my friend.”

“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”

“Hm?”

He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”

“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.

“Come with me!”

“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.

—

Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.

“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.

“Do you want us to paint something!?”

“Not really...”

“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”

“Nah.”

“...And in star leaves-?”

“I don't want to paint, Sun.”

“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”

“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.

—

He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”

“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.

“Oh... well, theeen-”

—

We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”

“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.

“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.

“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.

“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.

—

“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.

“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.

“He's a little rascal!”

“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.

—

“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”

“...” “...no, pass...”

“…”

—

“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.

“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.

“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”

“No...”

“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.

“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.

“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.

—

“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.

“Yeah, I see.”

“We call 'em Adoquín!”

“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”

*THUMP!*

“…”

The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.

Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.

“...” Alright.

—

“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”

I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”

“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.

“To... I don't know, pine cones?”

“...You don't look very convinced.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.

He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.

We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.

I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.

“…” I nod.

We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.

“…”

*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”

“…”

“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”

“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.

“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”

“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.

We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.

“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-

*rush*

“........eh?”

A rope.

A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.

“.......”

What?

…

He said he knew a better place.

No. It can't be this.

“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...

It can't be.

A better place.

He can't be referring to this.

A better place.

A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.

“Can you put your foot in?!”

“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”

“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”

“..............”

“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"

… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”

“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.

I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!”

He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”

“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.

We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.

…

I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.

“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”

“…”

“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...

“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.

“...” “Well, I do.”

“…”

“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.

“…”

“...” “What brings you to the forest?”

“...” Really? “I got lost.”

“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”

“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”

“...” “Only that?”

“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?

“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.

“...” “What?”

“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”

“Cycles?”

��Mhm” He nods.

“...What are cycles?”

Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.

“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”

“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”

“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”

“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.

“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.

“What do you mean they left-?”

“They 'left'!”

“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”

“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.

It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”

“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.

“...okay. What is this forest?”

“My home! And the home of many other animals.”

“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”

“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.

“Oh... and who's that someone?”

“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Um-”

“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!

“eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.

“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”

“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”

“You can keep some of mine!”

“No, it's okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You suuuuure??” He insist.

“Yeees.”

He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.

“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”

“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”

“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”

“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.

“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”

“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.

“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”

“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.

“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”

“Comics?”

“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”

“...It's a book with drawings?”

“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”

“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”

“I didn't bring them anyway.”

“Do you normally carry them around?”

“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”

“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”

“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.

“Why did you stop coming?”

“...That's personal.”

“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”

I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”

“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”

“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”

“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”

“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.

“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.

*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *

…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.

…

Okay.

I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.

…

—

It's been a few hours now.

…

I can't sleep, I simply can't.

…

It doesn't look like he's coming back.

*creek*

…?

*rin*

*tap tap, creek*

Sun?

“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.

*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*

*rin dirrin*

If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.

*dirriring dirring*

I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.

…

The glow is gone.

*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*

It's on the roof.

…

*tap, tap, tap...*

It moves again.

*rin *

…

It sounded on the other side of the wall.

…

…

“nghehe...”

It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.

…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no no.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

*creeek*

It came from the door. It's trying to get in.

*rin*

The trapdoor.

*rin dirring*

Where was the trapdoor?

*creek creeeek*

I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.

*tap tap ring dirring*

…!

I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.

*rin, creeek...*

…

Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-

…

I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-

…

It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-

…

A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.

…

I slowly peek out from behind the tree.

*rin*

…

It sounded above me.

…

I don't look up, I run.

“nnghehee...” He laughs.

He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.

I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.

“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.

“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.

I throw a rock at him “AGH!”

The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.

“...”

“...”

…

I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.

…

…

…?

Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?

“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.

“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.

“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.

“...” Moonman remains silent again.

“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.

“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.

“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”

…

The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.

“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.

“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”

“...” There's no response from the moon man.

“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”

“...”

…

The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.

“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.

…

He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.

—

…

…

…

A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.

…

My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.

“Oof...” Hurts.

*creek, tap tap tap tap*

Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.

*creek... *

The door opens.

Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.

“ah?”

“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”

“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.

“Mm?”

“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.

…

He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”

“...”

“No?”

“...”

“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”

“...” I want to leave.

“You don't like them either...?”

“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.

“...”

“*snif... *”

“u-um...!”

“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.

“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”

I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.

“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.

“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.

“...W-what? Um...”

“...” *hic, hic *

“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”

“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”

“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”

“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”

“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.

“I want to go home...”

He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.

“...”

“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.

“...” I nod my head.

—

…

We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.

…

Sun has been quiet the entire time.

He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”

“...”

I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.

A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.

…

Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.

I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.

...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.

I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.

…

The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.

…

…

…

I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.

—

…

…

…

“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.

…

It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.

…

My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.

I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.

*rin, diring diring*

“...”

I open it.

…

It's empty.

[atwas-gaming]

People who complain that Sonic's character is "static" must have never played Unleashed or Black Knight. Or they did, but they didn't understand them.

I think one of the reasons why Unleashed and Black Knight are such fan favorites and stick in our memory so well is because the entire theme of both games is about taking Sonic out of his element, taking away things that he has relied on for so long- speed, jumping, spindashing, boosting, homing attacks- taking all those things away from him, and seeing how he does.

And he still shines. Even without all the abilities that he has relied on throughout his entire life, he still manages to beat the Big Bad.

(Please note that I haven't finished either game yet and I'm just drawing from what I've been spoiled on.)

As the werehog, Sonic is not able to curl into a ball at all (we're ignoring the mobile games for this post), and his greater height and weight, probably due to a larger bone structure, as well as heavier, thicker fur, keeps him from being able to run as fast or jump as high as he's used to. He now how to resort to fighting styles he has never used before, including several forms of martial arts (aided by his Dark Gaia-powered stretch abilities). Perhaps the most unusual of all is how he has to get down on all fours to run.

In addition, Sonic describes his werehog form as "pretty ugly." Sonic thinks of himself as good-looking, and this is a part of his personal identity, which is part of why he was upset that Amy didn't recognize him (no matter what feelings he may or may not have for her). The werehog form also seems to be physically uncomfortable and taxing on Sonic's body due to the heavier weight, as the werehog idle animations include Sonic stretching in an exaggerated way and forcibly rotating his shoulders (motions I, myself, have learned to use after years at a desk job that has ruined my neck and upper back). Sonic's idle animations also include him being jumpy and looking around every few seconds- basically, the werehog never fully relaxes.

All in all, Sonic is very uncomfortable as a werehog, and prefers not to be seen in this form. But the reason why is not fully evident until he thanks Chip for protecting him and keeping him from turning evil. To this, Chip replies, "I haven't done anything, Sonic. You're too strong to lose yourself."

On top of this, Amy doesn't have a problem with Sonic's appearance. She still loves him. Tails also doesn't care what Sonic looks like. Neither does Professor Pickle. Neither does ANYONE. Even if they're startled by the werehog's appearance at first, they all seem to go, "Oh, it's just Sonic. This is just what he's like at night."

The entire story of Unleashed was about Sonic coming to realize that he is not who he is because of what he looks like or how he is built.

Black Knight takes this a step further. In Unleashed, Sonic wasn't able to run, but he was still able to use his body as a weapon. In Black Knight, Sonic can run again, but nowhere near as fast as his normal speed. All of Sonic's abilities to fight with his body are stripped from him, and he is forced to use an actual weapon, instead. And Sonic hates this. He even says it: "I wish I didn't have to use this dang sword!"

Sonic has never used a weapon before in the games (as far as I am aware, anyway). His weapon has always been his own body: his feet, his fists, his whole body via spindash and homing attack. Now he's having to train himself to fight with something outside of his own body. This requires not only the creation of new muscle memory, but also a complete shift in the way his brain processes information to fight. He always has the option to just crumble and say, "I can't do this, it's not what I'm used to, I give up." He never does that. He complains a bit at first, but eventually rises to the occasion and excels at swordfighting.

Please bear in mind that I haven't ever gotten past the King Arthur battle. I presume Sonic is forced to kill him, and then I believe there's another half a game after that. But so far, it seems that Sonic's character arc in Black Knight is about him learning that he is not who he is just because of what he can do.

What makes Sonic Sonic is not what he looks like or what he is able to do, but about who he is inside. Sonic is someone who cares, someone who is strong, someone who doesn't give up, someone who sees a difficult situation and, no matter how much of an inconvenience it may be, turns it around and finds a way through.

[littlevices]

"Because I'm your younger brother."

Disclaimer: Spoilers ahead for the end of Mob Psycho 100, in case anyone needed the warning. And more gushing about a certain scene in particular, concerning Ritsu and Mob, so a longer post ahead. Please note some screenshots and events may be out of order slightly, but I have reasons for it.

I said I would do it in my first post on this show. Now that I've had some time to sit and think, I'm going to do it.

(If you're curious about it, you can find the post here. Not that I have many posts to look through right now anyway, lol, but if you're curious enough. Beware, though, there be spoilers there, too.)

When I finished up Mob Psycho 100, I mentioned in my post about it that I noticed some parallels to things in season 1.

One of those things was the scene between Mob and Ritsu, or rather, Ritsu confronting ???%. AKA Shigeo.

In season 1 we learn by episode 8 that Ritsu has always held some kind of fear towards Mob. That the reason he was so intent on gaining psychic powers was because he feared what his brother could become, the destruction Mob could cause, and that he feared getting hurt again.

???% did not discriminate in his attack, or at least he didn't hold back. As a result Ritsu got hurt in the crossfire and had to go to the hospital, leaving both Ritsu and Mob traumatized and forced to suppress themselves in some way. Mob with his emotions, and Ritsu his fear and vulnerability.

Ritsu couldn't even have a fight with Mob, a brotherly argument, in fear of stressing him out and unleashing ???% again. His want for powers changed from admiration of his brother to survival.

"I couldn't handle my inferiority complex and fear towards you. So I was protecting myself by thinking it was admiration. I was scared of you."

Ritsu tells Mob this point blank. Even tries to get him to fight him, even though he should know better than anyone that he's no match against him, ???% or not. Tells Mob that he's done with playing nice and sweet, that he doesn't care about Mob like he pretended to.

"Because I have no way to protect myself from your powers. So I did my best not to stress you out in any way."

"Face me right now! Hit me with your powers!"

Except instead of a fight, Mob calls him out, in his own way. Tells Ritsu that he knows what he says isn't all true. Tells him that he is his older brother, and then tries to take responsibility for Ritsu's actions the past couple episodes. Mob puts himself between Ritsu and the other delinquents.

"Ritsu. . . I can tell that's a lie."

"But I guess it true. . . I'm your brother, Ritsu. Hey, Ritsu. Half of that is true, right?"

Ritsu doesn't understand it.

Fast Forward to season 3 episode 11.

Mob has gone berserk, ???% unleashed and making his way towards Tsubomi, destroying anything that gets in his way. Mob is understandably upset and scared. He's feared this happening for so long, and now so many people he's come to care for are getting hurt trying to get through to him. Mob is doing everything in his power to hold ???% back.

At this point Ritsu and Mob are both confronting the thing they had both feared.

Except, Ritsu isn't scared.

Instead of fear and apprehension, Ritsu instead tells ???%, tells Mob, tells Shigeo - that he's his little brother and that he has no reason to be scared.

Mob doesn't understand it.

And it is beautiful.

It's such a strange reversal that reveals Ritsu's growth, but also the depths of Mob's psyche. How Mob has a hard time believing that the thing inside him is him in any way.

Ritsu has come to understand that part of Mob that used to scare him. Much like how Mob understood that Ritsu did care about him, despite trying to act like he didn't, Ritsu understands that ???% is just as much a part of Mob as any thing - despite how much Mob denies it.

"Ritsu. . . It's no use trying to get rid of me. . . Because we're brothers."

"Hey. . . Stop. Why, Nii-san? What are you doing!?"

"But I'm not scared anymore. I've finally figured it out. This isn't a separate, scary version of you. It's a part of you. So there's no reason to be scared. There's no reason to tremble at the sight of it. Because I'm. . . Your younger brother."

"No, Ritsu. You're wrong! That's not me! Ritsu, you need to get away from that thing!"

This isn't the only parallel, though.

There's also the fact that despite both of them having done something to hurt others - Ritsu through misguided use of his powers, and Mob through his lack of control over his emotional state - Both still care. They both know the other is a good person deep down. Mob saw through Ritsu's misuse of his powers, while Ritsu is willing to accept this dark, violent part of his brother.

Let's not forget the fact that Mob realized, back in season 1, that the reason Ritsu had been asking him "Are you okay?" so much, wasn't just for Mob's sake, but for Ritsu himself, who wanted to talk things out, even if he had a round about way of doing so. By the time of season 3, Ritsu has grown so much, that now instead of going about subtly, he outright tells Mob - Shigeo - his brother, that he wants to talk. Not just for himself, but for him too.

"You don't need to suffer alone like this. The truth was. . . I wanted us to talk it out."

"But I don't want you to change anymore, Nii-san. Don't try to bear this on your own. I'm here for you!"

Honestly, they've both grown so much. Watching episode 11 season 3, and getting to the part where Ritsu confronts Shigeo, and seeing so many parallels and changes from all the way back in season 1 was both heart warming but also heart wrenching.

They've both worked through so many of their short comings that to see it displayed like that was so immensely satisfying. They love each other and it warms my heart.

I apologize for all the longer posts I make on this show, but honestly, it's probably going to be living in my head rent-free and I don't know what to do with that, lol.

[boxeom]

• When Judgement Day Comes •

🌻[The Failure of Truth and the Success of Lies]🌻

Synopsis: Hiromi gets yet another guilty verdict, but luckily, you are there to pick up his stray pieces.

Contains: Higuruma Hiromi/gn!reader, heavy angst, hurt comfort, a lil spooky (:3), (cw.) heavy intrusive thoughts, (cw.) suicidal ideation, (cw.) heavy dissociation, non-sexual intimacy, acts of service, bird facts (it's symbolism, I promise/I also just know way too much about birds and must share my knowledge), disgusting amounts of soft and emotional fluff.

Wc. 5k+

[Message from the Box]: Uhhhh…first time actually posting my writing. A bit nervous. I have literally been writing so much stuff in my personal life and have literally finished stories I've just been a wee scared to post so they've just been sitting in my drive for like…three years??? Maybe there will be more to come if I actually hype myself up enough- I'm proud of my writings, I think I'm an okay writer (I think), but posting them always makes me feel urrg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! (IF YOU SAW THE UNCOMPLETED VERSION OF THIS, NO YOU DIDN'T. 🫵🏽)

-Boxe in the Box

Hiromi's eyes peel open slowly to meet the dark roof of his car. He blinks a few times, head lifting from his headrest to stare ahead at the dark and practically empty parking lot just outside the courthouse. The sun was up when he had gotten into his car- how long was he sitting here? A nearby lamppost flickers. Harsh pale yellow light flashes in rapid patterns- straining Hiromi's eyes and painting his skin ghostly white for only mere seconds before plunging him back into shadow. Hiromi chuckles without a hint of amusement. Those really were the only two sides of the coin, weren't they? The head is too bright- too harsh, it leaves you squinting in wait to adjust- to have to eventually hope that you can one day comfortably live in the exposure the light paints you in. Meanwhile, the tail is too dark to even tell whether or not you are conscious as everything passes by right in front of you- leaving you to blindly stumble your way through uncertainty. You can flip that coin as much as you want. But was the hope for heads every time really worth it? Was this worth it?

Was life worth it?

The intrusively dark thought comes creeping its way out unexpectedly- forcing Hiromi to look it right in the face and come to terms with his subconscious questioning the idea of living. It isn't new, not at all. Hiromi has always had thoughts like that, but he's never given them his attention in favor of pursuing his passion to redeem the world of justice and honor. Right now, though? Hiromi finds himself not countering this consideration of life with his usual optimism. He's too tired. He's so tired. Hiromi takes a deep breath and slightly shakes his head, starting his car, flicking on his lights, and leaving that damned parking lot he's had too many moments of defeat in. He doesn't see the dark figure flickering in and out of existence just beneath the light of that lamppost in his rearview mirror watching his retreat- nor does he see the bulb begin to surge with power, shining too brightly until it shatters with an unheard pop! and litters glass onto the asphalt below. He doesn't see that whatever had been watching him was now gone.

•••

Driving has always been something that Hiromi has come to appreciate. Despite the unfortunate impact careening around in a highly flammable steel box at speeds humans were not meant to move at pouring gray smog into the air from every hole had on the environment, Hiromi finds himself comfortable in the mindless routine of turning the steering wheel, pressing or easing off the acceleration or brake, using the appropriate signals when it was time to use them, and everything else that came with such a common act. His windows are down- wind whipping in his ears and face as he naturally drives the speed limit right at its number, blank eyes staring ahead and occasionally glancing to the left or right. Today, though, something is...different.

He finds himself disassociating from the world around him- from the other cars sharing the road and forgetting that living, breathing people reside inside them. He wonders what would happen if he just pivoted into the black Mercedes Benz he saw littering a styrofoam cup full of cigarette butts a couple miles back. He wonders what would happen if he got on the ass of the rundown truck blaring bass and shit with its driver who blatantly has his eyes glued to his phone. Hiromi can feel the upper half of his dress shoe continue to press down on the acceleration, his vehicle revving along with the action as if to egg him on to go faster. He finds himself not caring when he cuts someone off or doesn't use his turning signal. His chest feels positively hollow. Just like before, he doesn't see the dark figure lounging in his backseat just behind him.

It's like he snaps awake when he finds himself in the elevator of his penthouse, the default cheery tune of elevator music making his clear exhaustion look almost comical in the mirrors paneled to the walls surrounding him. His heavy eyes blink. Hiromi's head swivels to the wall to his right suddenly- eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. He could have sworn, in the corner of his eye, someone was just with him in the elevator. There had been a flash of long black hair and uncomfortably pale skin, donned in a dark robe of some kind. Before he can give what he just saw much thought, the elevator dings and the steel doors slide open. Hiromi blinks a few times and lightly shakes his head. He lifts his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose before his palm drags down the rest of his face and he sighs deeply while leaving the elevator. Hiromi's shoulders slouch and his feet are heavy against the floor below him. He slips off his shoes, toeing them in the corner before stepping further into his home.

"Hiromi?"

And just like that, the lead in his muscles and fatigue weighing him down just melts away as you peek around the corner to meet his eyes. You meet him halfway. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hiromi how your eyes look him up and down in clear concern and what he really thinks is pity. "...Guilty again, huh?" He doesn't even need to explain it to you anymore. Hiromi feels every single ounce of negativity cursing his mind, body, and soul simply disappear as he steps into your open and warm embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him flush against your body as a hand cradles the back of his head and welcomes his heaviness. Hiromi's forehead drops to your shoulder and his eyes slide close in relief to be with you. "I made dinner. Hungry?" He shakes his head to decline your offer. There's a moment of guilt in the pit of his stomach that he selfishly turns down your effort in caring for him, but that feeling is soon washed away as you nod instantly. You understood. You always understood. "C'mon," you give a soft kiss to his temple, "let's get this suit off."

With your hand in his, you lead Hiromi into your shared bedroom and take his suitcase to put aside on his desk. You sit Hiromi down on the edge of your bed gently and go about grabbing some more comfortable clothes for him to wear. Hiromi watches you with the softest gaze as you return to him, setting a fresh pair of boxers and one of his old college shirts beside him. You start loosening his tie, “Wanna get washed off? We can lay down afterwards.”

“Yes, please."

“Want me to join?”

Hiromi's heart swells to a point where his chest aches. He leans forward into you, head resting on your chest to listen to your steady heartbeat as he hugs your waist and draws you close between his legs. He just needs a moment to take you in- to feel you in his arms. You let him, return his embrace without question. His heavy eyes close slowly.

He's home.

•••

Hiromi lets out a long sigh as he sinks into the hot embrace of the lavender scented water filling the master bathroom’s spacious tub, resting his arms along the porcelain edges. His eyes peel open when you pass by- pulling your shirt up over your head and tossing it into the wicker laundry bin against the wall. He tilts his head, taking you in from head to toe as you slip your shorts down your legs. Hiromi’s eyebrows knit slightly.

“Where'd you get that bruise from?” He asks in concern, sitting up and reaching out for you- palm smoothing along the back of your bare thigh where a large, dark bruise welts against your skin. “Hm?” You peer over your shoulder at Hiromi with a frown of surprise, “I have a bruise?” “Yeah- it looks horrible. Did this happen recently?” “Oh, right,” Hiromi’s thumb gently rubs small circles against your flesh as you chuckle sheepishly, “I slipped and fell while running late to a meeting the other day, but it didn't hurt or anything.” Hiromi lets out an exasperated sigh, “How do you always manage to hurt yourself? Please be more careful, you have enough scars and bruises as it is.”

You raise your hands in playful surrender as you step into the bath, “I know, I know, I'm sorry.” Hiromi just shakes his head with a smile and welcomes your body against his when you join him within the water. You hum out in satisfaction, your back pressed to Hiromi's chest- your skin warm and pleasant flushed to his. Hiromi noses at the crook of your neck before leaving a fond trail of kisses down the gentle slope. Your hand reaches back as you tilt your head to give him more room, fingers threading through Hiromi's dark hair and scratching his scalp just the way he likes as his lips linger on the scar that curls at your left shoulder. Hiromi closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer still. “How was your day?” He asks against your skin. “You don't want to talk about yours?” You shift slightly in his arms to peer at him where his chin is tucked into your shoulder. “No,” Hiromi tilts his head to gently bump yours, your temples resting against each other's, “I just want to hear about you.”

You don't respond, but Hiromi can feel the way your cheek rises just a bit with your smile.

The next thirty minutes or so are filled with you telling Hiromi how you've spent your uneventful but peaceful day off (“boring is best”, you always say) as the two of you bathe together. It's a routine that you're both familiar with- one that Hiromi holds very dear (and he knows you do as well). You always insist on washing him first, working soap against his skin with a delicate touch and melting away the stress and tension of his day. When it's your turn, Hiromi is never not thorough. He finds it oddly relaxing- cleaning another person's body for them (though, he'd never done such intimate acts with anyone before meeting you so maybe he finds it so comforting because it's you).

His favorite part, though, is when you coax him to rest back into your chest and wash his hair. Tonight is no different.

Your hands do wonders. How you aren't the most famous massage therapist in the world, Hiromi has no idea (but he's more than happy to keep your talents for himself, anyways). Your fingers work through his hair with a touch that could rival that of an angel's. The clean and woodsy smell of Hiromi's shampoo fills the air as you knead his sensitive scalp, the heavenly combination nearly causing him to doze off in the water the two of you sit in. Hiromi's head lulls whichever direction your hands work in and his eyes have long since fluttered shut at the sound of your voice very seriously recounting a nature documentary you'd been absolutely appalled by earlier this evening.

"-and the mother bird won't realize that she's been taking care of a baby that isn't hers! The cuckoo hatches along with her babies and she'll feed them all, but the thing is that the cuckoo is much larger than the others so the mother will focus on feeding them more than her own." You tell him, disturbed by the information you've learned, "The other babies will either starve to death because they aren't getting enough food or be pushed out of the nest by the cuckoo because it needs more room. It's called...oh, what was it?"

"Parasitic brooding..." Hiromi finishes for you, having remembered seeing the term in a book he'd read once.

"Parasitic brooding! That's it!" You frown deeply, "It was really...sad. I know it's just nature, the cuckoo is just doing what its instinct is, but still...I can't help but feel bad for all the birds involved. The baby cuckoo especially."

"The baby cuckoo? How come?"

"...I'm not sure. It's just...the idea of a baby that's planted into a family it's meant to destroy without even knowing..." You trail off long enough for Hiromi's eyes to open and tilt his head back against your chest to see your face. "...It's a scary thought." He correctly words your feelings aloud. "Very." You agree solemnly, absentmindedly shaping Hiromi's hair into spikes. It's a bit surprising to him- how affected you seem by this concept. He's sure there's something there, something complex within you he's yet to uncover. Your relationship was founded and built on patience and trust- both of your backgrounds are complicated enough to have shaped who you are today significantly. And you've both mutually confided in one another about your pasts with time.

Hiromi knows there is still more about your life before him that you haven't told him about. However, he would never dream of trying to push that information out of you. Whatever it is, whenever you are ready to tell him about it, he'll be there for you the whole way. It's a silent promise he'd made to you early on into your friendship that he has no intention of breaking now after three years of being together.

He slowly sits up, turning in the water to face you and cup your face in his wet hand. You lean into his touch with an apologetic and sheepish smile. "Sorry...I was getting too into my head."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I'm supposed to be taking care of you today, not the other way around."

"We can take care of each other at the same time, you know." Hiromi reasons, his response being a trill of your lips and a playfully dismissive wave. "Impossible."

With a shake of his head, he kisses your forehead and chuckles against your skin as you snicker along with him. When he leans back, you're beaming up at Hiromi with a smile that will never fail to make the rest of the world just disappear. He breathes your name. "I love you." "I love you, too."

"Keep telling me about the documentary. What else did it talk about?"

"Oh! Did you know that there are families of lesbian lizards?"

•••

Hiromi climbs into bed beside you, letting out the hundredth sigh of the day when he flops face first into the sanctuary of his fluffy pillow. He hears you snicker and coo with sympathy to the side and he can't help but smile. You pull the cool duvet over him before settling in, your hand resting on the nape of his neck and absentmindedly playing with the short dark tufts of hair there. Hiromi turns his head to meet your eyes. The two of you simply stare at each other for a moment. His mind wanders back to the failure of his day- to the look of pure contempt on his client's face when the verdict was given. Will the next time be the same? And the time after that? What about the inevitable case he'd take a year from now? Will he ever make a difference? Is he the kind of person that can even make a difference...?

"What're you thinking about, Hiro?"

“...Do you think I'll ever change anything?”

Your expression is hard for Hiromi to read, even after these years of being with you, but he can see the sympathy in your eyes. There's something else he catches just in the subtle downturn of your thoughtful frown. It's complicated and deep and almost devastating. It's like you've heard these words or asked yourself the same question before, but in a way Hiromi can't seem to grasp. Your palm glides to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the corner of his eye rhythmically. Before he can think any further on it though, the brief glaze to your stare disappears to something he can actually recognize. Love.

“I do.”

There isn't a hint of doubt in your whisper. You continue;

“You are…a righteous, beautiful, and passionate soul with the mind to accomplish anything and everything you want. You're always learning, always watching, always adapting. And I wish- every single day- I wish I could be even half as strong as you are. You're unshakeable, Hiromi.”

Hiromi has never been a very outwardly emotional man. It takes a lot for his heart to bare itself so clearly. Even so, you are easily able to sway him as if it was as simple as breathing- like he is a book with its pages ready and waiting to be read and analyzed by your eyes and your eyes alone. It's a terrifying and exhilarating experience. To be seen, known, and cherished.

“You won't just change anything, Hiromi.” You smile so softly, finger brushing away the tear Hiromi hadn't noticed was falling until your touch. He lifts his hand to cover your own and weaves your fingers together. “You'll change everything. I know it.”

“...How?” His voice is so quiet, he almost doesn't hear it himself…but you hear him.

“Because you're Higuruma Hiromi. And I love you.”

There's such a serene silence that falls between the two of you, Hiromi almost feels like he's caught in a dream. Your skin is painted by the loving strokes of the rising moon’s brush- your eyes sparkle brighter than any mere shooting star that's ever streaked across the night sky. You're ethereal. Hiromi has to question- has to wonder what it is he did in his past lives to have earned the grace that is you. What he does know, though, is that you're here. With him.

And that is more than enough.

The shadows of your and Hiromi's bedroom shift, something darker than the black blanket of night slinking silently across the ceiling. It moves slowly and deliberately- spindly and twisted limbs like the branches of a dying tree moving the bulbous, swollen trunk they are attached to. The damnable thing crawls down the wall the headboard of the bed presses against, making its way closest to Hiromi's side. Its pencil thin neck stretches and cranes with the accompanied sound of crackles and pops (as if stretching bones it does not possess), two wide bloodshot eyes that are much too human yet far too large leer unblinkingly down at the soundly sleeping man just within its reach. Its face holds no features- just a silhouette of a head that is too small compared to its sac-like body. It's like a child's rendition of a giant spider they saw in their nightmares has peeled off paper and grew the size of a car. It stares, drinking in the face of the human who's woe it bore from. His desperation, his sorrow, his guilt, his regrets- all a delectable ambrosia that fills its fat gut. But it is not enough.

There's a soft, almost undetectable sound from it. Like the slow inhale of a dying man that draws on and on and on and on and on, hollow and wheezing and infinite. The space where its mouth should be begins to fall cartoonishly from the upper half of its face, a cacophony of ripping tendons and snapping cartilage growing more and more frequent the more its gaping maw yawns open. It draws closer to Hiromi, jaw unhinging and stretching to the size of Hiromi's upper torso.

Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

Creak.

The creature's mouth snaps closed, head shooting up to the sudden sound of something just barely moving to the right. Its wide eyes widen further when it meets the subtly glowing gaze of you. You stare into its very core- shaking the foundation of its being. Your expression is void, yet the unbridled wrath storming in your eyes and lashing through your energy strikes something into the newborn curse. Something so horrible, it cannot truly comprehend how or why you make it feel.

It feels fear.

The curse is fleeing before it realizes, scattering with uncanny speed across the floor and heading straight towards the glass doors leading to the connecting balcony. It crashes through the glass, pieces digging into its fleshy body but it is undeterred. Gnarly fingers wrap around the railing as it heaves its body up, ready to jump over the edge and escape into the night. It watches as its own body suddenly hurdles over the edge of the railing unceremoniously- plunging silently over the edge and disappearing. Its eyes shake as it slowly peers to the side.

"The next time you are born," your voice is soft and even as your fist tightens around its severed neck with a strength that has the curse's eyes about to pop out of its head, your free hand resting over its face, "make sure it isn't by him."

There's a sick, wet, tearing sound- purple residue spraying across the floor of the balcony as you reduce the curse’s head into a ball of meat, raw cursed energy rushing through both parts of its body before exploding in a display of churning blue flame. Any evidence of its existence is instantly eradicated. You look back just as Hiromi is startled awake from the shattering glass, snapping your fingers as the ruined glass door flashes and is fixed in the blink of an eye. Hiromi bolts upright and his head snaps to where you're re-entering the bedroom. "Sorry," you whisper, "did I wake you?"

"Wh-What the hell was that?!" Hiromi asks in panic, eyes flickering around your bedroom to find whatever it was that had awoken him. Guilt picks at your bones as you tilt your head and furrow your brow in feigned confusion. "What was what?" Your boyfriend stares at you like he's trying to decide if he's gone crazy or if you've gone crazy. "Th-That...that sound! It sounded like glass was breaking!" "...Glass? I didn't hear anything, Hiro."

Hiromi blinks a few times, processing your words- his mind running. You can see him thinking. You know that he definitely knows he didn't dream that up, but your reaction clearly makes him question himself. “You're stressed, baby. It was probably just a nightmare.” To ease (and distract) him, you move back into bed, your hand gently cupping his face to turn Hiromi towards you and meet him in a soft kiss. He relaxes with a slow exhale through his nose- you can feel his rapid heart beat calming where you rest your hand over his chest. “C’mere, let's go back to sleep, hm?” You murmur when you pull away, your answer a quiet nod. Hiromi moves with you- your hands gently holding his shoulders to guide him to rest on top of you.

Hiromi sighs as he lays his head on your chest, your fingers threading through his hair and running through his hair to tempt his eyes to fall closed. It's not long until you feel Hiromi's breathing slowly even out like it always does when he sleeps. You glance to the balcony door, releasing your hold on the illusion to assess the damage. There's a giant hole punched right through the now ruined glass door, pieces scattered across the ground (but luckily it's far enough that Hiromi won't accidentally step on the pieces when he wakes up tomorrow). You inwardly groan before setting the false image back into place and shut your eyes.

You'll need to get that fixed tomorrow.

[clearwillow]

Shared this teaser with patrons last month and I wasn't originally planning to post it elsewhere but decided that yeah...I guess I probably should to prove I'm trying to write? It's finished, but I'm still working on editing with my beta. It also still doesn't have a name cause every title I think of has been used or doesn't really fit it.

Anyway here's a look at it.

Inuyasha would give her looks, and she was positive that he knew she was silently going off the rails, but he never brought attention to it. Kagome appreciated how he’d changed in this regard; back when they were teenagers he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a deal out of her prolonged silence. It had usually led to a fight, and she’d used the beads unnecessarily. Luckily that thought shifted her focus. “Do you still have the beads of subjugation?”

“Yup.” Inuyasha reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out the string of dark colored beads. “What brought this on? Do you want to see if they still work?”

There was no suspicion in his voice, no sign of anger that she’d even mentioned the accessory he’d been forced to wear since the day they’d met. Only curiosity. Kagome still shook her head furiously. “N-no, of course not!”

He got up from the table and came to sit on the floor next to Kagome’s chair. “Well, I’m curious. Go ahead,” he urged.

“S… s-sit?” Kagome winced, expecting to feel the floor vibrate from the impact of Inuyasha hitting it…but there was nothing. Inuyasha continued to sit there, and there was a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. “Inuyasha? Did…did you…want to be –”

“Keh! Hell no,” he chuckled humorlessly. “But I thought there might have still been a chance that they had their power after all this time. I had a feeling that when Kaede went to join Kikyo that the spell would break, but I couldn’t bring myself to test it. I don’t know if I could have handled it if I knew for sure.”

Kagome reached out and nudged him to lay his head on her leg. Slowly, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “You wore them all this time and never once tried? Why?”

“It was all I had left of you,” he whispered. “If I found out I could take them off…it would have been like I was throwing away the last connection I had to you.”

How many times could a heart break? Kagome wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but it felt like hers had again. “I took advantage of their spell too often. I wouldn’t think you’d want to remember that.”

“You saved me with these on a few occasions, don’t forget. The other times I was being stupid, and believe me when I look back on those memories, I want to kick my own ass. We were both wrong, but we were too stubborn to admit it.”

“Do you want to take them off?” she asked. Inuyasha looked up at her with a hint of panic and she quickly added, “We could display them? I won’t make you get rid of them, Inuyasha. I just thought that you might want to keep them where they can be seen and you could put them on whenever you’d like.”

Inuyasha visibly relaxed, resting his cheek on her thigh once again. “Yeah…yeah, we could do that.”

“No rush, of course.”

“Of course.”

They sat in silence after that, and Kagome continued to run her fingers through his hair. She hadn’t expected Inuyasha to change his view of the beads, but then it had been a long time since he’d been made to wear them. The way he’d looked at her moments before made her dinner turn over in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to upset him, and she certainly didn’t want to make him throw away something he’d come to cherish. Seeing his reaction must have been what he was seeing in her eyes earlier.

[a-killer-obsession]

Wanna say real quick if you're a fanfic writer and you're looking at my page like "ohhh they hit 500 followers so fast and they have a upload schedule and post twice a week, maybe i have to post twice a week to get followers" - Stop

This turned into a whole guide for newbies so more under the cut

Please do not use me as an example! Im disabled and unemployed which means i have time to write two chapters a week, please do not put that sort of pressure on yourself!!! I only let myself have a upload schedule because i keep a small backlog of chapters, meaning i have some buffer if my health is bad or i get writers block, and as yall saw recently i will take a break if i loose that backlog. If i was forcing myself to write two chapters a week on a strict deadline i would absolutely loose my shit and probably burn out very quickly. And to be entirely honest, I haven't seen much difference in follower growth now that I have a schedule versus when I was just posting whenever I remembered to. I really don't think a schedule makes a huge difference, I just like having one because it gives me some sense of routine now that I'm unemployed.

What im trying to say, especially if you're new to posting fanfics, is please dont stress yourself out by thinking you need a strict schedule for anyone to like your fic or follow you. You shouldn't be writing for followers anyway, write for yourself! Write because YOU want to write. And if you fall out of love with that writing, dont feel like you need to force it just to make others happy! When i get burnt out writing Wavelengths, I keep going because *I* want to get to the ending, I've been excited to write it for months. Its another reason i dont start writing new long forms until i have a generic plan of where im going, which is something i highly recommend. Having a chapter you're excited to write really helps when you're trying to find motivation.

While I have you here, let me lay down some general tips for new fanfic writers, especially for those who post on tumblr:

Write because you want to write. Don't ever feel like you need to cater to someone else, that's a sure fire way to get burn out

If you do get burn out: don't worry about it, either it'll pass or it won't. Maybe you'll drop that idea all together and move to something new. Don't sweat it, write what makes you happy. Forcing yourself will only make it worse and it'll show in your writing. Writing fanfics is a hobby, it should be FUN. Sure someone might come across your fic years from now and be sad that it's not complete but they'll probably only be sad for a few days at most and then they'll forget about it. Its not a big deal. Who knows, maybe you'll find inspiration years down the line and make someone's day by randomly updating after years of hiatus. It happens 🤷

Dont worry about how much engagement your fic gets. I know absolutely incredible fics that get barely any engagement, and some frankly hard reads that have a ridiculous amount. Its all just dumb luck really. Again - write because you want to

Don't sweat typos too bad. I recommend finishing your chapter/one shot, giving it a day or so, and THEN come back to proof read. I find doing this gives me fresh eyes and I often find a lot of ways to improve the chapter while I'm fixing typos. If you accidentally leave typos in there, don't worry too much. As long as it makes enough sense for people to understand what you meant, people will still read it. Just look at the first few chapters of Wavelengths for example, they're riddled with typos from swapping from 3rd to 1st person, but people still read them (I'LL FIX THEM SOON I PROMISE LMAO)

Don't worry about being cringe. Cringe is dead, make your characters as self inserty and over powered as you want. CRINGE IS DEAD. If you think its fun to write powers and tropes that you're worried will be cringe, fuck it, write it anyway. As long as YOU have fun writing it. Do you know how many "whoops accidental pregnancy" trope fics I've written? Every single one of my long forms has either had it, or planned to, because I like that trope! I don't care if its cringe, I will continue to get my characters knocked up

Some quick accessibility things:

Please left align your fic! I've seen people posting center and right aligned because it "looks cool". These alignments should be used sparingly! As well as things like italics and different fonts/font sizes/colours! They should be used to highlight small sections only! Otherwise they can make it very difficult for people with reading difficulties to read!

If you're posting on tumblr:

Make sure the majority of your fic uses the default black font. Some people set the whole thing to a different font or the "small" font or a different colour and I literally can't read them, and it makes me so sad! I'm sure I'm not the only one with this issue! Its okay to use other fonts for things like headers and descriptions, but for the bulk of your fic use the default! Theres a graphic designer out there somewhere who spent a long time picking the best font for the body text on this website for a reason!

If your fic is longer than a few paragraphs, use the READ MORE function!!! Either cut under a description or the first few paragraphs so people get a preview of your fic. You may think it's silly to hide most of your fic, but if someone, especially on mobile, comes across your fic automatically trimmed on the fyp, and likes your stuff, and they go to your account to see more and have to scroll for a million years just to get past your newest post, they're quickly going to give up trying to read your other stuff. Using the read more function makes it easy for people to browse your blog and check out more of your works!! It also makes it more likely people will reblog for the same reason.

Along the same lines: have a masterlist. This can be as simple as a pinned post where you add a link every time you post something new. This makes it super easy for people to check out more of your work!

If you have a long form/multi chapter I also recommend going to the previous chapter and adding a "next chapter" link when you post the next one. Not 100% needed though, if you have a masterlist that can be enough on its own, people just appreciate having that next chapter link for binge reading. PUT IT AT THE BOTTOM PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. I hate when I finish a chapter and have to scroll for a million years to get to the top for the link

Feel absolutely free to use the way I format my fics and masterlist as example, but like I said, it can literally be just as simple as a list of links. I recommend listing the links at bare minimum as the title of the fic, and the pairing people can expect (including if its nsfw is a good idea too)

Speaking of NSFW: if your work isn't suitable for minors please make that clear! Even just a 'minors DNI' at the start of the post is good! If you wanna get fancy there are lots of creators who make lovely 18+/minors dni banners you can use for free, just google it and plenty will come up. If you're not adding a cut before the NSFW content then make sure you mark the post as for mature audiences (idk how you do it on the computer because I'm mostly a mobile user but on mobile you can find it bottom right, the icon with the two people). Not appropriately censoring your posts can result in tumblr restricting and possibly banning your account.

Finally, and this one is oddly specific to people who use google docs, but you can use a copy of this google doc to automatically add all the html to your writing so you can just copy and paste it into tumblr or AO3, instead of having to manually fix all the formatting. Do not just copy and paste AO3 html into tumblr, for some reason it has major issues with italics and will cause you a major headache. Just use the linked doc, its a super time saver, I've been using it for ages now

Okay thanks for reading bye

[coolpuppy12]

Hi hi~ Let's yap a bit...

I've had some tragedy strike me recently, so I haven't played Sims in a while. I'm okay now, and I just started back building. But grief works in mysterious ways, so who knows if I won't go on another hiatus lol.

Anyway, I wanted to update you on my plans for Doo Doo.

Ideally, I want to finish up all the builds (minus special lots like the hospital, police station, magic realm, and science lab) by next week. Once that's done, I'll be reaching out to those who volunteered to playtest the save. If all is well, I am planning on releasing a beta version of Doo Doo (Doo Doo Lite - woo!) at the beginning of August. This version will feature all the completed builds, but as far as townies and lore goes, that is still a work in progress.

So, when will I officially be done? Who knows! LOL

I am aiming to have the final version of Doo Doo (with everything completed) released by mid-September. But again, who knows...

Also, Ihaveayoutubechannel 🫣. I've had one for a while now, and I post very scuffed long form video diaries of my work on Doo Doo. So, there's that if you're interested... I'm quite shy and wanted to keep this hush hush, but for personal growth, I'm forcing myself to put this information out there lol.

[beabnormal24]

My hand slipped, here's a Gax wip

I couldn't help myself so I posted the wip anyway, enjoyyy

(I don't know when I'll finish this fic, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it):

“Okay, so Max and George against me and Oscar. What do we say?” Lando pops his elbow on the net’s pole, chewing loudly on his gum as he bounces the racket on his knees. 

Oscar stands behind him with his arms crossed on his chest, a cap messily pulled over his hair, staring at Lando’s back like a good scholar waiting for instructions. 

George shares a quick glance with Max: the only answer he gets being a careless shrug. 

“I mean-“ he says, scratching the back of his head. “Wouldn’t it be a bit, I don’t know, unbalanced? No offence to any of you, of course.” He quickly adds, but not quick enough for Max to suppress his snort. 

George is not looking at him, but he doesn’t need to turn around to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

But maybe he’s smiling with the wrinkles next to them, in the way he does when he’s a bit endeared by him. Maybe, he can’t know. 

“Georgie, my dear. Let’s put it like this” Lando says, shaking his head. “Out of all of us, I’m the best.” 

Max coughs behind him. “Bullshit.” 

George has to press a fist against his mouth to cover his laugh. 

“You are all crap. Max and Oscar are real real crap, while you, George, are just slightly crap. Between Max and Oscar, Osc is the crappiest.” 

“Hey!” Oscar protests, glaring at the back of Lando’s head as he seems to finally wake up from his open-eyed slumber. There’s a frown between his eyebrows, George knows that he’s more than aware of how bad he is, but the competitive side of him just can’t let Lando expose him so bluntly. 

They’ve all been through that. 

Lando shushes him with a shake of his hand, blowing a raspberry with his mouth. “So, it’s all a matter of statistics-“ 

“That’s not what statistics is about, Lando.” 

“Which means that it’s me and Osc against you and Max, alright?” 

There’s nothing more to say that would change his mind, so George just shares an amused look with Max and wishes that for once his height might be of help. 

They lose, terribly, George must admit that his pride is mostly wounded by the fact that Lando actually is the best out of all of them, so much so that Oscar doesn’t even need to raise his racket that many times and still they get horribly plastered to the ground and miss almost every single hit. 

Max doesn’t seem as happy about the result either, if the way he’s gasping for air and grabbing at his bent knees is anything to go by. For a professional driver, he’s probably got the worst resistance out of all of then, given how he had already started to pant after half of the first set. 

George lets himself stare at his profile for a second, the sweat dripping from his hairline to the tip of his nose, red from exertion, freckles bright under the deep flush, the cap on his head sliding slightly up as he brings a bottle to his lips. 

He casts away his eyes just as Max turns around, feeling his own face heat up at the possibility of being caught, busying his own hands with one of the bottles scattered behind the white line. 

“Next time.” Max exhales, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A droplet falls on his upper lip, George forces himself to stare at Oscar slumping tiredly against one of the walls of the club. “Next time we’re going to call Fernando and beg him to come back playing with us. He’s a lot more fun than those two idiots, I swear if I hear Lando moan Oscar’s name like a whore one more time-“ 

George glares at him, hoping with all his might that anyone milling around them is distant enough not to hear him. “Yeah, sure, let’s call Fernando. And how exactly would you do that?” 

Max raises an inquisitive eyebrow, mouth twisting in that way he does when he thinks an interviewer is asking the dumbest question ever. 

Unfortunately, George has been on the receiving end of it enough times to recognise it immediately. 

“You’re still his dearest baby, aren’t you?” Max asks, cheekily winking at him, tipping the neck of his bottle towards him to point at his chest with a finger. “If there’s anyone who can bring that old bastard back, it’s you. And maybe Lance and Carlos, but mostly you.” 

“Shut up.” George grumbles, hoping that Lando is not eavesdropping on them, or else he would’ve to deal with all the teasing he had desperately hoped to leave behind once Fernando had finally decided that enough was enough. 

One single year of being teammates, one single year of having to deal with Fernando’s complete lack of a filter and notion of personal space, and he’ll have to bear the consequences for the rest of his life. 

He does miss the old man, though, but they’ll probably catch up at the New Years’ party and George will have to endure at least a two hour long pleasant monologue about how retired life hurts Fernando to the core. 

“Alright lads.” Lando shouts on the other side of the court, stretching his arms above his head just like the showoff that he is. Oscar, at least, has the decency to appear completely unfazed. “It’s dinner time, I choose the place and the pizza is on the losers.” 

“Wait a second, we never agreed on that!” Max says frowning. 

“Yeah, no, he’s always like this. Just makes things up, it’s his talent.” Oscar deadpans. “But I have to agree with Lando on this one, it’s a good idea.” 

“Ah, no I won’t accept this. You don’t count, you didn’t even lose.” Max protests, narrowing his eyes in his direction. Oscar just shrugs innocently. 

“See? It’s three against you, Max. Losers pay.” Lando concludes, twisting the damp towel around his neck just to smack it against Oscar’s shoulder. 

Oscar smacks his own against his head in return, leading to a quick banter that inevitably brings the eyes of other people at the court towards them, as if being a bunch of drivers in a public space wasn’t already enough. 

“But I never agreed to anything.” George mumbles. 

“Either way, it’s always your fault, Russell.” Max teases, squeezing his forearm for a second as he shoulders past him. 

George swats it away weakly, his skin almost feeling like burning where there’s still the faintest feeling of a pressure. When he looks down at it, he swears he can see something glowing under the fabric of his thermal T-shirt, like a flicker, or even a spark, as if his skin is trying to light up on fire all of a sudden. 

“George.” He snaps his head up at the sound of his name, heartbeat growing faster in his chest, pounding, pounding, pounding- “Did you hit your head? Come on let’s go before he gets even more strange ideas.” 

George has to admit that Lando knows his stuff when it comes to eating. Perhaps being as picky as he is helps in that matter, but George still appreciates the choice of a small spot, private, a bit more distant from the other tables. 

They are not worried about being stopped, anyway, there’s not many tourists wondering about in Monaco when so close to Christmas, and definitely not on a weekday. 

Oscar is a pretty good conversationalist, George already knew that, so he spends most of the dinner talking with him about his plans for the Holidays and his sister dealing with her first semester in Chemical Engineering while Lando and Max chat about a game or something Martin’s related, probably. 

But the strange feeling on his chest remains constant, like a gentle blow against his skin, right under the sweater he had brought as a change. 

From nothing more than a distant sensation, it starts to properly itch halfway through the meal, when Max moves his chair closer to the table and their knees knock against each other, and George almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden touch. 

Max looks at him weirdly, his raised eyebrows trying to ask questions that George does not have the answer to, so he just shots him his politest smile and goes back to his glass of water. 

Too often than he would like, the itch becomes so unbearable that he has to scratch it, shoving a hand under his sweater and rubbing his fingernails until he’s sure his skin must be all raw and red and pretends like it’s nothing. 

Oscar, at least, doesn’t seem to pay it any attention, or if he notices anything weird, he’s kind enough to not point it out. 

To avoid talking about racing it’s pretty easy, nobody wants to be reminded of their respective places in the Championship, with Max missing second place to Carlos for a bunch of points, George grazing the top three but not reaching it, and both Lando and Oscar still left behind. 

They had all hoped for something better, with all the new regulations, with all the new possibilities. At the very least, they’re all happy for the end to Charles’ long suffering. 

George does not pay at all, in the end, because as soon as he makes a gesture of taking his wallet out, Max is rolling his eyes and huffing and shoving his arm behind his back saying something about being the one who earns the most out of the four of them, anyway. 

At that point, George’s chest might as well have caught on fire with how much his skin starts to burn. 

He’ll blame it on stress, he thinks, because it has been a stressful bunch of months, from first to fourth in a span of a year does something to your head and George hasn’t exactly been in the best position to actually deal with whatever was going on inside of himself without people assuming that he was bending to the challenges of his new teammate. 

Lando and Oscar say goodbye with half hugs and promises of catching each other during the rest of the break that George knows are just a polite way of saying that if they happen to be in the same place at the same time, then they should try and meet up. 

But it will probably be impossible with Lando flying from one part of the world to another doing things that they are all pretty sure he shouldn’t be allowed to do at all. 

They leave together, arguing like kids about some stupid thing with knocking shoulders and twinning heads ducked down, hip to hip, arm to arm, always doing the same thing but not quite, and George has to properly spread a hand over his chest when he’s left alone with Max and his skin starts to feel like thousands of pins prickling at it, sharp and annoying and oh so unbearable. 

It’s just stress, it’s alright, he just needs to go back home and run himself a good bath with those salt things that Charles got him for Secret Santa last month, and then, tomorrow, he’ll just have to catch up with Aleix and find the number of his therapist and book an appointment or two. He’ll detox at his parents’ house and then at the New Years’ party and then he’ll be all focused for the next season. 

Just like every other time. 

“Russell.” 

A hand wraps around his bicep, small but strong. It feels heavy on him, perhaps he lost too much weight. His heart thumps uncontrollably against his ribcage, and George knows that if he were to take a look at his chest right now, he would probably catch another spark. 

But maybe it’s all in his imagination, he’s just stressed. 

Max looks at him from the tip of his big nose, his eyes smiling with the corners of his lips as he pats George’s shoulder, almost affectionately. And it looks good on him, George has just changed his mind, the third place almost makes him seem more human, more reachable, even if George had already reached him last year (but it never felt as right as it does now). 

He likes that. 

Max squeezes one last time, knocking their arms against each other. It’s not a hug like Lando, but it’s something close to it and it makes George feel acknowledged in that weird kind of way you that only Max’s things make him feel. 

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected. 

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him. 

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world. 

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves. 

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet. 

[ganondoodle]

I just wanna say firstly that i adore your artwork and takes6on Zelda in general! Secondly, much as I wish you never had to deal with the frustrations of creating (especially when you tack on the stress of being on any kind of social platform), I'm glad you talk about your struggle. I've heard people talk about art block every day since I learned what Art was, but nobody ever mentioned "painting oneself into a corner". It's such an apt description that is so infuriatingly relatable that I had to stop eating to thank you for putting it into words. I really appreciate that you're willing to talk about your setbacks in a place like Tumblr, and still share your arts and thoughts. All the best from US of hellscape A, i hope you're doing well.

Thank you!

i used to call it artblock as well, its the most normalized term i guess; i randomly started calling it painting myself into a corner when i got stuck or frustrated on a painting bc welll, it sure feels like it, you painted the walls all around you and dont know how to get out now

it usually happens when i stop having fun and just draw what i want and instead keep subconsciously forcing myself into arbitrary rules; in my case its usually trying to be too perfect, i try to adhere to the sketch, i try to make every block of color have a perfectly clean edge, separate the drawing into way too many layers and am afraid to delete or erase anything, i tense up my whole body as frustration builds bc of impatience as this method of painting does not work for me at all and in the end lose motivation on it all and my nerves are stretched thin (i work best when i think as little as possible, just kinda loosely letting my hand do what it wants on few layers and no specific plan, after losing that its hard to get it back)

having those low moments with your art is normal as your skill grows, but even knowing so, and having gone through it countless times, it never stops making you feel like shit, and its especially frustrating when it happens when you just got enough time to work on stuff or have alot of ideas but you cant get it to work

(and funnily enough it also tends to happen after another work of mine got more attention than i thought .. even worse when it was just a sketch bc now i got the pressure on me to actually finish it and the fear of it doing worse once done looms over the whole thing- which doesnt mean i dont want people to interact with my wips, bc that also has an extremely demotivating factor to it bc it makes me think no one cares or it sucks and doesnt deserve the time i would need to spend on finishing it; also .. alot of my wips stay wips forever, which is fine, but like .. you cant always expect a finished tm version to happen)

i do find it a little funny you praise me for talking openly about it bc i am notoriously unable to shut up ever and only recently got better at NOT talking as much about it when i feel as shitty as this bc it doesnt really help anyone and gets annoying really fast xD (im also notoriously unable to not post absolutely everything bc i got no one to show it to and otherwise it will just collect dust on my harddrive so i might as well throw it out there no matter how much i might hate it, someone else might still enjoy it anyway)

and greetings back from the -not really much less of a hellscape- that is germany o/

[emikotatsuya]

Sensation's Rewrite Prologue

I decided to post the finished rewrite for the prologue here on Tumblr just so people can get a feel for some of the additions and for some new readers to hopefully look forward to when I'm done rewriting Sensation. Anyway, I hope you lovely readers enjoy it!

Regarding human nature, morality is questioned in almost every decision they make. To survive in this world, they make so many drastically different choices that humans like to put into the vague terms of Good and Evil. Humans are also hypocritical creatures, acting on their selfish desires and beliefs. One person will choose and be seen as a good person, while someone else will make the same decision and somehow be seen as the bad guy. The lines are blurred so often that there never seems to be an actual line between those opposing sides. It's easier to call it a gray area, but only some people are satisfied with just that. Humans need constant reassurance that they are making the right choices. That they're the protagonists of their own story, and any minor inconvenience is the antagonist.

In the depths of a hidden world, behind the general public, those lines are more thought out and clearly stated. Forces beyond normal human comprehension exist and sometimes threaten their lives without them ever knowing. All because they don't harbor the necessary eyes to see it. Behind the scenes, the more or less good guys are Jujutsu Sorcerers. Those men and women have been born with the ability to see cursed spirits and can harness the cursed energy those spirits are made of to defend humanity from them. 

As for the bad guys, it is easy to say that cursed spirits are the set-in-stone villains. They are primarily mindless beings that move on instinct. However, some have become more powerful and evolved to be able to think and even talk in some cases. They may even gain a humanoid form if lucky, usually only present in powerful cursed spirits. That said, it goes without saying that Jujutsu Sorcerers are not all harbingers of goodwill. Having powers no average human has can quickly go to the head. Even though this happens, you never see a cursed spirit trying to be a good Samaritan. Right?

I thought about what it would be like if that wasn't the case as I walked down the dirt path deep within the woods outside of town and headed to the tiny log cabin I called my home. Almost two decades ago, I opened my eyes for the first time. Born from nothing but the forest's foreboding, I took my first steps. I had wandered the forest aimlessly for days without knowing why I existed. The first few months after my alleged 'birth', I ran into my first cursed spirit. 

It was small and looked more like a ball of flesh than anything else. When it had noticed me, it had coward away. Sensing something that I could not perceive myself at the time. Something compelled me to believe that somehow, we were the same species, or at least made of the same thing. Though, of course, at the time, I had no idea what a cursed spirit was or how they were made. It didn't take long for my curiosity to turn into panic once the cursed spirit realized I wasn't a threat and somehow bit my hand clean off. I don't remember what happened next, but when I came to, the curse was nowhere to be seen, and my hand was somehow back. After that, I made a conscious effort to stay away from cursed spirits. I was scared I was going to get attacked again.

About a month later, I finally found my way to town outside the forest. That was when I discovered what humans were. I didn't go down immediately, scared they would harm me like the curse did. I watched the humans go about their lives from the cover of the forest's darkness. For a bit, that was enough. 

I was simply content on watching. Humans were so fascinating; they were of different shapes and sizes with similar forms. They were social creatures, I learned soon enough, and eventually, I longed to be down there with them. One day, I noticed a cursed spirit had wandered from the forest and crawled down to the town. That was when I first learned of the basic instinct of cursed spirits to prey on humans. 

I desperately wanted to go down there and help, warn them of the dangers, but my fears had held me back. However, I didn't have to in the end, as a jujutsu sorcerer had been notified of the attack and had come swiftly to deal with the problem. They didn't sense me by some miracle, but I saw firsthand how strong they could be and how they killed cursed spirits without hesitation. I remember being scared to death at the thought of returning to the forest's edge after that, wondering If I would be the next one for the slaughter. Eventually, I gathered some courage and resumed my people-watching.

One day, by mere accident, I somehow changed my form. I barely noticed the change, but my eye level was lower than usual. I was suddenly shorter than I was initially. While wandering around the forest and eventually finding a river near where I live now, I was shocked to see a human face staring back at me. As embarrassing as it was, I thought a human was trapped under the water, unable to fathom that I could ever look like that. 

However, after my initial panic to rescue said human, I realized that it was actually me that I was staring at. I remember a wave of relief washing over me to finally not see the monstrous face I had grown used to seeing in my reflection. Since that day, I never changed back. I traveled down to the town below that day with my new form. I had apparently taken the form of a five-year-old child, so the adults who had first noticed me freaked out when they saw me. I was caked with dirt, my hair was matted, and I was naked. Clothes, sadly, did not come with the transformation, though at the time, I didn't know the importance of clothes.

Before I knew it, one of the townspeople rushed me to their home and threw me into a warm bath. Scrubbing away all the dirt and grime before almost tearing my hair as they brushed the knots out. They had bombarded me with many questions, all worried for my well-being. It was overwhelming. Now that I think back on it, they probably thought I was abused and had been abandoned in the forest to die. After all, no 'child' looks like that if they came from a loving family.

However, at the time, I couldn't answer them even if I had wanted to. I didn't know how to speak or dress myself. I remember the look on an elderly woman's face when she noticed how confused I looked when she had given me a tiny dress that one of the other townsfolk had run out and bought for me. Her look of pure sadness at the realization that I didn't even know how to put clothes on will forever be ingrained in my memory. The townsfolk there at the time had spent a good few hours trying to get clothes onto me. 

I had apparently struggled and squirmed so much that they had to hold me down just to put the dress on. When they were done, I finally looked like an ordinary little girl. After everything slowly settled down, the townsfolk decided what to do with me. Some tried to find my parents, though that was arduous since I didn't have any. They tried to take me in at some point, but I ran back into the forest. After all, that day was the first time I interacted with humans, and it was too much too soon.

The next day, after calming down, I returned to the town. The townsfolk had been worried and kept watch at the forest's edge. Only a few wanted to search for me in the forest because it was considered haunted. I wasn't surprised because of the number of Cursed Spirits born in it. That was when I met my Papa, a young man who had heard of what had happened and was the first person on the scene when I was spotted the next day. 

He had asked me if I wanted to live with him, but the thought of him or anyone finding out about what I was, or another Jujutsu Sorcerer coming by, had ended in me, no matter how tempting the offer had been, outright refusing him. Even if it wasn't a dangerous offer, the forest had become my home, and I couldn't bear to leave it after all this time. After some discussion, they eventually decided I would join Elementary school. Before I could join, however, they had to set up a place for me to stay. So, some builders from the village ended up renovating an old abandoned cabin in the woods. 

For the first year, one of the school teachers would walk up to the cabin and walk me all the way down to the elementary school. I would have dinner with the young man, who would walk me back to the cabin. The other kids in my grade had thought I was weird since I didn't talk, and eventually, a rumor circulated that I was an orphan. I didn't make any friends because of it. Over that first year, my form slowly changed, aging as if I were a human; after that year, I finally learned how to talk and, eventually, how to read and write. However, I had a terrible stutter whenever I did talk, as my vocal cords were not used to it.

About a month after I could talk a sentence, the young man brought something up during dinner one night. "So, what's your name, little one?" I looked up from my food to look up at him curiously. "M-m-my n-name?" I barely managed out. Ms and Ns at the start of words were the hardest to pronounce for me. "Yes, your name. A good little girl like you must have a wonderful name." I lowered my head to look back at the food, my hand tightening around the fork. "I don't have a n-name." Not long after I had said that the young man dropped his glass, causing it to shatter on the floor below; the noise made me flinch with how loud it was. "They didn't even give you a name?" 

I knew he meant to whisper it, but his emotions got the better of him. It confused me; why was he so angry? Had I done something wrong? "I-I'm sorry." His head snapped back at me, and he quickly threw his hands up. "No, no! It isn't your fault. It will never be your fault. It's just.." He trailed off. "I'll tell you when you're older; let me clean this up, okay? You continue eating your food," I nodded softly as I ate. The young man was hunched over on the floor, cleaning up the shards of glass and the water that had spilled everywhere. 

Once our plates had been emptied of food, I sat on one of the stools on the island in the kitchen while he washed the dishes. "So," He started. "Would you like me to give you a name?" My head perked up at that. A name? My own name? I couldn't help but shyly nod, giddy at the idea of receiving a name. He chuckled at my reaction and thoughtfully held his chin in his hands. "Hmm, I think I'll call you (Y/n), and for your last name, why not mine? From now on, you'll be (Y/N) Chibana." He grinned at me, "Awe- now that I think about it, I never told you my name earlier; sorry about that, kiddo, my name is Hisato Chibana. In my family, Chibana means 'A Thousand Blossoms.' You'll grow into that quite nicely. My little Hana."

That was the day my father officially adopted me. And he had wasted no time taking up his new role as my father. He was a patient man and never once got angry at me for my struggles to speak or if I was having trouble with my school work since I was starting school later than the other kids. Father had picked up everything and moved into the cabin in the woods with me not even two weeks after I started school. His neighbors had tried to stop him, warning him of the forest's dangers, but he simply smiled and said. "If I wasn't there for my daughter, then what kind of father would I be?" It was nice knowing he was there for me. It took me forever to properly warm up and see him as my Papa. I remember a day when he gave the principal an earful after he found out how some of the kids were making fun of the fact I was adopted since they couldn't exactly make fun of the fact I was an orphan anymore. 

When we got home that day, he sighed deeply and ruffled my hair as he told me to help him prepare the ingredients for dinner. "Don't listen to them, my little hana. You just have a different circumstance than them, but that doesn't make them better than you. You are an amazing young girl. I couldn't have wished for a better daughter," Is what he had told me, with a warm smile on his face. It had made him look so bright. I had clung to his leg for the rest of the night.

When I turned eleven, my happy life with my father ended. It was the middle of class, and I sat alone at one of the tables. The classroom was situated where there were fewer students than tables, and since the students were allowed to sit wherever they liked, I was the only one at my table. The teacher at the front of the room was teaching us multiplication when the phone rang. She told us to all settle down as he headed to the back of the class to answer the phone. "Yes, hello? Yes. She's here..what?" I saw the teacher go pale as her eyes landed on me, and I immediately knew something was up. "Ok..yes, I'll tell her. Alright, goodbye." 

The teacher hung up the phone."Chibana-San, please come with me." Everyone's eyes were on me as I slowly got out of my chair and followed our teacher out of the classroom. We didn't walk far, just to a different classroom that wasn't used at the moment; she sat me down at one of the tables. "Alright, Chibana-san, I must tell you some important news. It has to do with your father, Mister Chibana." I slowly nodded, my hands slightly shaking under the table as I feared the worst. "You see..while your dad was at work today, a little accident happened." The teacher looked at me with so much pity that I almost couldn't stand to look at her. "Is he ok?" I could barely hear my voice; I had spoken so softly. She shook her head, hanging low as she tried not to cry. After all, it wasn't every day you had to deliver news like this to an eleven-year-old. "Y-Your father got caught up in it, and he- he lost his life." In the end, she couldn't hold back the tears. And just like that, my world came crashing down around me.

Six years ago, my father died due to a workplace accident. They were working on construction, and some beams weren't tied correctly, so when the ropes gave way, my Papa was crushed under its weight when it fell. The information hit me like a ton of bricks at the time. The one person in my life who had helped me through each day, who cared about me, was gone forever. A week after his death, was when his funeral was held. 

Papa was beloved in town. He was an upstanding citizen who loved to help people. Never failed to put a smile on everyone's face, so it wasn't a surprise that so many people had shown up. I can't remember a single person there that day besides my teacher, but I remember the heavy feeling in my gut each time they looked at me in pity. Whispering to one another how dreadful it was for me to lose my father so young, all while I was still in earshot. Others, the more superstitious, whispered how it was my fault, that I must have been a bad omen. My teacher led me away shortly after the comments started getting out of hand. Only when I got home did I finally cry, finally began to fully grieve his death. For the first time in years, I was alone again. I didn't leave his room for a good few days. Soaking his pillows with my tears, I eventually believed those comments were accurate. Everyone at school believed it, after all, which only worsened the bullying.

Back to the present, and out of my depressing thoughts, I set down the groceries I had bought in town by the door. A sigh escaped my lips as I dug around in my pockets for my house key before opening the door. I crouched down to pick up the groceries before entering the cabin. "Papa...I'm home," I called out into the empty house as I closed the door behind me and locked it. Moving into the kitchen, I set the groceries down on the counter. I heard tiny footsteps and smiled softly as I turned around."Yes, yes, I'm home, Rose."

A few feet away was a pure white angora cat with heterochromatic eyes. The cat's eyes were blue and yellow, which reminded me of jewels. As I often shortened it, Primrose, or Rose, appeared shortly after Papa died. It was about a month after the funeral, if I remember correctly. But I could remember the night Rose came into my life so clearly.

After another long day at school, I only wanted to cry in Papa's room. Middle School was already hard to get through with all the bullying; now that Papa was gone, it felt more like I was trapped in hell. I set my backpack by the sofa before returning to Papa's room. I collapsed onto the bed and let out a shaky breath. It wasn't long before the tears began to fall from my face.

Every time I cried over Papa, it felt like another part of me was dying. How could humans even handle emotions like this? Doesn't it just eat them from the inside out? My arms wrapped around his pillow in a vice. Holding it tighter and tighter with every wail that left my mouth. The pain in my heart was unbearable. The moon shone through the window onto my form, and at that moment, it felt like I was being set on fire. I didn't want the light on me. I didn't deserve it. Not after everything I've cau-

A drawn-out mewl from the window snapped me out of my thoughts. The sudden sound caught me off guard, and I sat up, forgetting my grief only for a moment. A pure white cat with a slightly fluffy mane was on the window sill. The cat's eyes shun like jewels against the moonlight, and my eyes widened at seeing its eyes being two different colors. Its left eye was a beautiful honey color, and its right eye was a light blue. All things considered, it was a beautiful cat.

Before I could speak, the cat jumped onto the bed, startling me further. It walked over, unafraid, and laid down in my lap. It looked up at me and stared. Despite my initial shock, a soft, somber smile graces my lips. "Are you all alone too?" I wiped my tears and gently petted the cat on the head; in response, the cat meowed back as if in reply. "what's your name?" I looked the cat over. "It looks like you don't have an owner..you must really be all alone.." I looked that cat over, "I think..I'll call you Primrose."

Primrose tilted her head slightly, looking at me with curiosity. I shook my head, 'I've done enough reminiscing for one day.' I crouched down and petted her. "Yes, I know, you're hungry. Don't worry; I got you your fancy tuna." A soft laugh left my lips as I rummaged through the plastic bags and got out a can of tuna. The only brand that Rose will eat is an expensive one, but I can't bring myself to not buy it for her. Rose helped me through a lot of the heartbreak of losing my Papa. Now, as a Fourth-year in high school, Primrose remains my one and only friend.

I opened a drawer and got out the can opener. I opened the can and set it on the counter for Primrose to enjoy. After feeding my feline companion, I got to work on putting away the groceries. "Did you behave while I was away at school today?" I said as I looked over my shoulder and put some food in the fridge. Primrose, in response, looked away from me. Being an expressive cat, I could tell she was offended. "Oh, come on, you know I'm only kidding."

I threw away the plastic bags along with the now-empty tuna can. "Come on, Rose..let's say hello to Papa." We walked down the hall to a room adjacent to mine, and I opened the door. Across the room was a small shrine. I sat on the pillow in front of it and looked at the picture of my Papa. He was just getting into his thirties when he died, which came with the light facial hair he had started to grow. He had shaggy hair and eyes that always reminded me of honey. The highlight of the old picture was his bright, warm smile. One that barely ever left his face. One that I was so used to seeing.

I lit the incense on the shrine and clasped my hands together. "Hey Papa, school was okay today. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either." My eyes closed as I thought about my Papa. "My grades are doing good. I've been studying really hard as of late." My eyelids fluttered open as my eyes made contact with the eyes in the picture. I missed hearing his voice, feeling his warmth whenever he hugged me, and laughing at his cheesy jokes.

"I...I've been thinking about the past a lot today.." I couldn't look at his face anymore, and I looked down. "I'm...so sorry that I never told you...I hope you can forgive me from where you are in heaven..or wherever you are." I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks as my hands fell to my sides, forming into fists as I dug my nails into my palms. "Would you still consider me your daughter if you knew what I am? Would you still call me your little Hana, knowing what my kind does to humans?" 

I felt like I couldn't breathe as I fell to my hands and knees and watched the tears fell onto the hardwood floor. "No matter how much I think about it, the guilt keeps eating away at my soul. Was I really the cause of your death? Did I doom you?" I jolted upward with a slight yelp as Primrose sunk her teeth into my arms."Ow! Rose, why did you-" I stopped as I noticed the distress in Primrose's eyes. I took deep breaths before letting out a long sigh as a half-hearted smile graced my lips."Thank you, Rose. I had another episode, didn't I?"

Primrose nuzzled her head against my arm and walked toward the door. My smile faded into something softer as I got up, glancing at my father's portrait. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Papa." I left the room with Primrose and closed the door behind me. "What would I do without you? You might as well be my emotional support animal at this rate." I watched Primrose walk toward my room, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Right, you need your beauty sleep." I stretched my back before rubbing where Rose had bit my arm. "She bit me hard. Even left a mark, fun."

I decided that I was just going to skip dinner tonight and go back outside for a walk in the forest. So I headed for the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. It was almost nighttime, and the sun was just about to set. My head tilted toward the sky to absorb the colors cast over it. 'It should be that time of day, right?' With that thought, I headed back down the path. Just up ahead was my destination, a small bridge that crossed over a river.

From what my Papa told me, this bridge was constructed years ago, and when the builders were grabbing stones to make up the bridge, they somehow found a big piece of emerald caked in dirt. Over the years, the dirt fell away because of rain, and the emerald was eventually revealed. Sadly, the townsfolk couldn't get it out because of where it was located on the bridge since the wall would have to be broken. Around this time of day, because of the angle it had been placed in the bridge, only during this time, when the sun started to set, did the sun's light shine through the emerald perfectly and make a beautiful design on the river's surface. Some myth was also connected to the bridge, but I can't remember it.

I stopped beside the emerald in the bridge and looked over the railing. On most days, it cast a nice green glow on the ripples of the water. Yet, today, it seemed to not be the case as the water almost had a red look. I rubbed my eyes several times to ensure I wasn't seeing things. 'That's never happened before. Is there dirt on it?' I peeked on the other side of the emerald gemstone and saw nothing. "Maybe it's a little early?" I whispered to myself softly before I took a deep breath. 'Something about this situation doesn't sit right with me.'

I shook my head and turned around. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with another cursed spirit because I was stressing over a weird bridge. I headed back inside, locked the door, and headed down the hall and into my room. Primrose was lying on my bed, sleeping soundly. I crawled into bed, trying not to disturb her. "Good night, Rose." I closed my eyes and tried my best to go to sleep.

Underneath the river's waters lay a plaque, long forgotten. Words carved into it told a small tale of the bridge. "Beware thy soul who views the river red, For soon a terrible fate lies ahead. When visiting the gem of the river so fair, Pray your fate isn't worse than death, beware!"

[shai-manahan]

Hi! It's been a while since I've talked about the upcoming updates, but I finally had a chance to actually sit down and make plans! (the life of a corporate slave, am I right? 🙃)

It has something to do with the changes I will be implementing on my patreon, though. I've thought for a while how to give content that's worthwhile of subscriptions while also making sure I can be comfortable with them, and in all honesty, I had a tricky time doing it. HM is too personal for me, as I used to talk about before, and some of the patreon benefits I promised before eventually felt too revealing - of my own thoughts and people whose lives were a huge inspiration for this story.

I will be talking about these changes and the update schedules as well below the cut.

UPDATES

I aim to finish at least half of HM's Book 1 this year. It seems to be a more realistic goal than forcing myself to finish everything right away (which tbh may have been a huge pressure I put on myself the past few years), though admittedly, things are unpredictable in the field I'm in; my job is full of overtime hours, and I spend most of my weekends trying to recover (or sick).

Still, I gotta finish it one way or another, and it's not going to write itself (though I wish it would!), so yeah, set realistic deadlines, pull out a few all-nighters, and maybe I'll actually get through it, who knows?

I do hope I'll have steadier finances by the time Book 2 starts so I can put more focus on writing and have sufficient energy for it, but that's a conversation for another day.

Changes in Prologue - Chapter 2

Okay. I know I promised not to make revisions until I write more chapters, but changing how some game mechanics work and reworking the stats made it a necessity, and I underestimated how much rewriting I'd have to do. A few scenes ended up not working well anymore, and I couldn't resist from revising a few clunky sections while I was at it.

Dialogue options were one of those that were significantly affected by the stat changes, but no worries, nothing is changed in the story -- meaning Wesley still fucks with the Ripper's life (oops), Richard still goes off doing whatever non-sus thing he's doing, you can still punch Bale (it's even a lot funnier this time), Bertrand remains a bitchy cop, and you'll still have your sad flashback with your former best friend/lover/crush or whatever they are to your MC.

The plan is to release the updated version of Prologue and Chapter 1 to patrons by the end of March (I will have a few days off work that week) and release it to the public once the new content is also ready, which I presume will be available next month (I will keep you all posted but I really hope I can get it done by then because it's been forever 🥲).

I might tweak Chapter 2 a little so the available portion can stand on its own rather than be divided into two parts, because it's just too long lmfao and is harming the pacing as I keep worrying about the length. I'm also incorporating a few suggestions a few folks gave me these past few months.

Succeeding chapters

I've probably said this before but things are bound to get more insane in HM once we're past the first three to four chapters. But also quicker to write in a way. They're the kind of scenes I thrive in, and while they have bigger variations, they're a lot more fast-paced, characters start being manipulative little shits, and the threats are more prevalent than ever. Your Ripper will not have a good time, but I certainly will (I say as I look at my outline and get sad doing it). There will be a few "breaks" in between, but this is not and will never be a light-hearted story. Anyway, I'm inclined to believe I'll be more consistent with updates when that time comes, so bear with me for now :')

PATREON CHANGES

This is getting long, so I'll just list the updated tier benefits and end the day with it. I'll be posting a schedule that I will be committing to (here and on patreon tomorrow morning), with the below details as well (so if you wanna stop here that's totally valid) but for now, here's the tentative list:

Tier 1

Early access - 4 days before a public update (this month will be an exception and you'll get the update as soon as the other tiers get it, too).

Sneak peeks and deleted scenes - I included the latter because apparently I delete a lot of great scenes

Hints for future revelations in the story - the categories will depend on results of polls; the hints may be about Bale's death, about Ripper's family, Pharos, Cyro, the ROs themselves, or the nightmares that the MC is getting, etc. Might be in form of vague conversations/dialogues between unknown characters, might be me dropping subtle info about those involved. Either way, it will be fun :). The polls and these hints will be given monthly.

Tier 2

Early access - 1 week before a public update

all the other benefits for Tier 1

monthly RO snippets - I'm still experimenting with this, but I might simply write MC x RO snippets (with different kinds of MCs for different scenarios because I deeply hate writing blank slate MCs, sorry)

a choice to see the POV of a character, decided through polls, for every chapter/update.

Tier 3

Early access - as early as it's available and goes through testing stages

all other benefits for previous tiers

Non-RO short stories

Previews on unintroduced characters :)

That's all for tonight! I am so tired lmfao but I hope you all are having a great weekend so far! See you tomorrow :)

[koolkat9]

That is honestly the perfect way to describe Ludwig lmao

Thank you. I've was thinking about it all day yesterday actually. And before I begin, I do not want people to take this as ger//ita bashing. I'm not really into the ship but I do think at least Ludwig was in love with Feli at some point and I love exploring the toxic side of their potential romance.

Anyway. Perhaps this toxic mindset about love and taking acts of service too far was rooted in him from a young age. A kind of generational trauma if you will passed down from Gilbert due to his time as a religious order. This is getting into projection territory, but that's how I come up with good ideas lol. I sometimes wonder if I am such a people pleaser, unable to speak up for myself and/or say no because I was religious and because they promote a degree of unselfishness that can become unhealthy. Being "Christ-like" requires some form of sacrifice after all. Put those around you before your self for that is how you serve God and get into Heaven. Even though I don't think Ludwig was ever that religious (and that Gil started deconstructing his religion when Lud popped up so it only indirectly influenced his parenting) the idea of love requiring sacrifice and love and care being shown by putting others above yourself always still got rooted in him.

Then you got Feli. Though a bit of a ditz and oblivious, I am a firm believer he isn't as stupid as he presents himself to be. After all, we see him be quite capable, specifically when he was a child. I always loved the headcanon that Feli has abandonment and attachment issues so he acts completely helpless in a attempt to not be left behind again.

With both these trauma responses put together probably won't result in the healthiest relationship. Ludwig give give giving and Feli take take taking because neither knows better and do it to protect themselves. Going a long this line it probably causes issues in their friendship but I think it reaches its climax if they get into a romantic relationship and thus get even more involved in each other's lives. It eventually leads to them breaking up and distancing themselves from each other for a bit.

It is this break that makes them reconsider a lot of things. Ludwig allows himself to explore other romantic options. He had many crushes alongside his crush on Feli, but he had been holding out, hoping Feli felt the same way. By exploring a new relationship or two, he starts to realize that maybe he was giving too much. Thinking too much about Feli and not enough about himself. He learns to love in a more healthy way like that post that tag is from said.

Feli also realizes that maybe the whole helpless act went a little too far. He did what he always did to keep people close and yet Ludwig still left him. One of the people he loved most left him. He spends weeks in reflection. Maybe spends some time with Kiku who puts things in perspective for him since he was an outsider looking in to Feli and Lud's relationship. As an itapan shipper maybe it leads to itapan with Kiku being a grounding force for Feli, but doesn't let him get away with shit. But also Feli may need a bit of a break from serious romances until he finishes processing his trauma. Choose your own ending there.

As much as I don't care for ger//ita as a wholesome end game romance, I do love their friendship every much. So once both heal a bit, Feli and Lud come back together with a friendship stronger than ever, supporting each other in their healing journey and new relationships.