#god writing this was a nightmare it was so hard to get motivation

[sangoqueenkoko]

bewitched

sort of fluffy… maybe a twinge of angst here and there.

Wendigoon/reader (platonic lmao)- he FINALLY UPLOADED AAAAAA-

MAIN MASTERLIST | OTHERS MASTERLIST

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Summary: Being separated from your friends while on a camping trip in the woods is scary enough, but how different would that fear be if one was to come face to face with a creature people never thought would ever exist?

Warnings? Occasional bad words? (i don't remember, I write the summary and warnings before the actual thing). And I mention his first name more than once, that's a recurring thing in these. you are the wendigo.

This is a great song to write with, it gets the brain going, especially on tense and fast-paced parts.

and this is more of a chill vibe for everything else.

also, upon writing this, I researched what a wendigo sounds like so I can include it in this and- holy sh*t- no thank you-!

Started writing on January 11th 2023, but posted when he uploaded next... i know... a while.

2.6k words-

According to most Algonquian oral traditions, a windigo is a cannibalistic monster that preys on the weak and socially disconnected.

In most versions of the legend, a human becomes a windigo after a person's spirit is corrupted by greed or weakened by extreme conditions, such as hunger and cold. In other legends, humans become windigos when possessed by a prowling spirit during a moment of weakness.

There are different versions of the word “windigo,” and there are many variations on the creature’s appearance and powers. Sometimes, windigos are described as exceptionally thin, with the skull and skeleton pushing through their ash-coloured, mummy-like skin. Other stories describe the windigo as a well-fleshed giant that gets proportionately larger the more it eats. According to other legends, the windigo has pointed or animal-like ears with antlers or horns sprouting on its head. A windigo’s eyes have been described as sunken or glowing like hot coals. Sharp and pointy teeth are characterised to tear through all sorts of materials...

It was... a curse to some. But for you,... it was... natural.

Walking on the well-worn-down desired path in the woods that many people have used with his friends, Isaiah looked around at the scenery near and far. He loved being out in the wilderness, it lets the body and mind take a break from the clutter of society, and it felt rewarding and deserving. There was a point in the walk where they were all quiet for a little while to just take in the surroundings, the only sounds were the sounds of shoes and leaves from on the beaten path, coats rubbing against themselves as their arms moved while walking and the birds in the surrounding trees. Perfect. The weather was perfect also, even if the mud was a little soft from a few days before their initial arrival, but it got better from there, as the sun rays were breaking through the branches high above.

And after a few pits stops throughout the day and hours later, they arrived at their next stop where they would spend their final night in the woods. Not saying that they're gonna die, just saying that they're gonna go home the next day. Even though that day it had been warm, the temperature can change drastically at night, so seeing as there were four people in total, two stayed at the campsite, and two went together to collect more firewood as the fire was only small for now. And they needed more. So Isaiah and one of his friends volunteered to go, luckily they still had some daylight to work with, but they bought their torches just in case at before they know it, the light would be gone.

Sometime later, they both gathered enough wood to return to camp, which was easily seen in the distance. Could you be sure to keep that in mind? Walking back, Isaiah thought that he must have daydreamed for a minute or so, because one second he was walking back to camp, and the next he realised that he was nowhere near the camp. Looking around, he thought that he must have walked further than he originally thought. But even if that was the case, one of his friends must have stopped him from walking into the dark woods ahead, right? Right? He looked up at the sky, it was the same as before, only that it was a little darker. So, understandably, he was confused as to where he travelled to in such a short amount of time, that short the sky didn't change must. He knew he wasn't dreaming.

Luckily, he came prepared. He brought a compass to retrace his steps. Albeit dark now, the night vision goggles were a great help. But it didn't feel... cold. It didn't feel the temperature it would be at night time, it felt normal like in the daytime. ...even if it wasn't daytime now. But he was understandably confused. How could his friends and the camp be right there, in one second, and then... not there the next?

But seeing as he was now alone somehow. This made him think. He thought of who or what else could be in the same area of woods with him. Black bears? Wild Hogs? Red Foxes? All of them have a chance of being near.

Then out of nowhere, he heard this high-pitched wailing, it echoed all around him, bouncing off everything, and it sounded as if something was... in pain, and he thought about going to see if he could help. But he had second thoughts as he didn't know what it was and the thought was immediately cast aside when he heard some distant growling come from the same direction. Fear stricken, the best option in this situation to do was to hide, and so he did, in a hollowed-out fallen tree. Heavy breathing. Sweaty palms. Wild eyes and a busy mind. The fear was paralyzing. Judging from the sounds that this... thing made, he instantly knew that this thing was not at all human. Not at all. But he just didn't know what it was. Was he asleep and he was dreaming this and he just wasn't aware of this? He doesn't know. Because he would remember being in the tent before falling asleep.

He could defend himself, no doubt about that. He still had his gun. But he was scared to even make his presence known at all. This thing began to come closer, he looked through a hole in the bark, and what he saw was... like a dream. He never thought that he would EVER be able to see what he is seeing right now. It was so tall, like a tree, like a dead tree to be more specific. Its bones pushed out against its skin, its complexion the ash-grey of death, and its eyes pushed back deep into their sockets. Like the living embodiment of death itself.

It was an actual wendigo.

And he couldn't be more fascinated yet terrified.

He was bewitched.

Its tall, lanky legs were all he could see as it walked past him, for it to be able to detect him, he had to be moving. And its tactic to make things move, thus scaring it, was to let out its painful, whale-like screech that rang out in every direction. Luckily for Isaiah, he didn't move, as he was currently fascinated, but trying to keep himself calm to prevent him from doing such things as running away. That would make him known to the creature and ultimately put his life at risk.

Even though he had to get away somehow. He did not want to risk getting more lost than he already is, he wanted to get back to the camp... wherever that may be. And with what felt like an eternity to him later, with the wendigo a distance away, he started to make his way back to the campsite in question, he thought that everything would seem familiar eventually as they passed it earlier in the day.

Okay enough of me rambling;-;

For the small amount of time that they were both in close proximity, the wendigo,… in other words, you, had a feeling that someone else was near, but was not so sure. Even if your senses are heightened, like heightened senses of smells. How you weren't able to detect him that way was sort of questionable.

But it being dark, and not the ideal temperature, Isaiah was tired, he just wanted to rest, as anyone would want when they've had a weirdly scary experience. The body lacking the sleep it needed did not help the basic functions, such as shivers from temperature, which was the body trying to keep itself warm and keep awake, sort to speak.

Finding shelter was the most important thing needed in this situation, even if it was a fallen tree, he made his move towards it when you were not around. The layering of clothing made it more bearable, as he was dressed to withstand the weather, and even if primal instincts were to light a fire, he could still be putting himself at risk as the fire would be seen as the movement by you, which would lure you. Even if it makes living easier.

At some point in the middle of the night, he was woken by the sound of footsteps walking nearby, crushing the leaves and fallen sticks/branches nearby. And these footsteps sounded familiar, not human as they did not sound human. Is it back? He thought, quickly sitting up and grabbing his water flask, as it felt like his mouth was as dry as the decaying tree he was currently residing under for the night. Quietly twisting the cap off the flask before drinking a few much-needed mouthfuls, he was correct, it had come back.

And even if legend does state that it has an undying hunger that would drive it to eat anything that it senses moving, it wouldn't go by him. Even if he did accidentally make movement by dropping the lid of his flask onto the shrubs beside him, thus creating a quiet rustling sound, the head of the beast spun round to look in the direction, facing directly at Isaiah.

Its hearing was impeccable, remember?

Like last time, heavy breathing. Sweaty palms. Wild eyes and a busy mind. The fear was paralyzing. Only that his heart wasn't raising so fast. It elevated a little but nothing major. There was a sound coming from the creature, it was much quieter than last time, the echoing whale-like sounds, only softer. Less brash. As if it didn't want to scare away whatever was around it or in its path. That being Isaiah.

These forever blood-seeking instincts that were programmed into you had... calmed down. For the time being, at least. You had not ripped him up to shreds the second your senses were laid upon him.

More soft sounds came from the creature as it slowly walked towards the area he was currently residing in, its steps were heavy, yet soft. As if it didn't want to be seen as careless, even if they are by nature. The growling coming from it was not so harsh as it would be if, in its hostile state, it was almost... curious? By the time it was where Isaiah was hiding, he held his breath as you the beast leaned down to inspect the area. And it found something. Him.

He glanced at it. He didn't want to make eye contact for fear that it would enrage this... thing that could do catastrophic things, causing it to do other unexplainable things, such as hurt him, or worse. Even if he had glanced at it up close, he could see every single detail of its scratched, cracked and worn face, every single marking on it has its own little story, be it good or bad. It had been through a lot. They both had. Especially in the past few hours. Like now. Because in the last few seconds, it had made its way even closer to Isaiah. So close that he could touch you it.

He does not know what made him do it, but he did it. He touched your its head. Expecting the feeling to be rough, it was rough, but also smooth in some areas where let's face it, you had to get into some tricky areas to reach certain things, resulting in your head rubbing against other textured surfaces, but it isn't like you were bothered by it at all. You were both very surprised at this sudden turn of events.

Yet still curious. Even if this situation does seem kind of familiar. Both of you expected it to not go so well, but it was the exact opposite, it went really well. His touch was soft and gentle, which even he did not expect. No one did.

What stayed at the front of his mind is what a wendigos behaviour should be like, which is seen as the embodiment of gluttony, greed, and excess: never satisfied after killing and consuming one person, and constantly searching for new victims. But you, you weren't doing those things now. Yes, you would be doing it when he isn't around, but now, you were mutual with him. As if you were getting along. Which he found... a little suspicious to say the least. But with another glimpse into your dead-like eyes, he found out it was genuine. You weren't so hostile.

It felt like you two were familiar with each other, and had been since, what felt like, forever. It was a bewitching moment.

But, as usual, all good things must come to an end.

Your instincts kicked in again, and you growled, but not at him, despite the amount of fear you had just injected into him in such a short time. You screeched, he threw his hands onto the sides of his head, pressing his ears to block out the piercing sound, but with wild eyes, he watched whatever you were doing. Because if your natural behavioural instincts had indeed kicked in again, he doesn't want himself to be caught with his guard down.

Screeching into the distance, at something, you ran fast into the deep forest. The torch beside Isaiah flickered before cutting out for a few seconds, coming back on again after.

He was prepared to fight back. He didn't have to. It is rare to leave a wendigo unscathed. He was unscathed, he beat the odds.

What just happened? Was the only thing that went through his mind, Am I alive? Indeed he was alive and unscathed. But he was cold and tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see other people again.

After some time of gathering his thoughts, and putting them into line, he gathered his stuff, and his breath, and began to make his way back into the direction he remembered the camp to be. And, thankfully, he saw an orange glow in the distance.

Fire. From a campfire.

Getting closer, it was becoming obvious that his friends had noticed that he had disappeared, and later he would find out that he was gone for hours. And that panicked his friends, they were so close to calling the forest rangers. They had been calling his name for what felt like forever.

And when he walked back to camp, his friends were so relieved that they could potentially yell at him and cry for wandering off, but he had no idea how to explain what happened, he was cold and tired, yet still slightly disconnected from reality. All they knew is that he had been through something rough, as they saw the state he was in, and now he was safe.

Something so... unnaturally pleasant that happened was bound to stay in his mind forever and would become a great story to tell others. ...that would be when he has gotten over it.

He knew that this would never happen again, which he was grateful for, yet... sad. Because he knew that he would never see you again, and he was thankful that you never did any harm to him, you were just curious. But at home, in his room where you can see all sorts of wendigo-related memorabilia in his videos, one of them secretly symbolised you. Viewers would spot the new figure, but they would never truly know the story behind it, only Isaiah.

Something he thought would never exist, did.

And he will always be bewitched.

—

IT'S FINALLY FINIIIIISHED!!!!

[solspina]

Absolution in Angelism

Luis Dante ⋆˙⟡

trapped within an endless and grotesque night terror, dante realizes that he’s been here a million times before. with his serf finally losing her title and nothing changing, something has to be done.!

have part two to my dante blurb because i can’t find motivation to write rn :( so sorry if this feels rushed!

tw: heavy descriptions of gore

tags: @ottobooty @kit-williams @moodymisty

the pulpy floor seemed to yield with every step dante took forward. blood splashed onto the golden calves of his armor with every sickening squelch the ground made, occasionally accompanied by the snapping and cracking of fragile and decayed bones. trapped pockets of air were released from the endless heap of flesh beneath his feet, emitting muffled gurgling in their wake. the air was thick with the stench of rot and putrescence, and it pooled in his throat with every shallow breath.

this was no battlefield; he had walked through those before and come out relatively unfazed. he had seen the bodies of his brothers, and been able to identify each one by their faces and mourn them as individuals. that wasn’t the case this time. instead, each face engraved into this unholy amalgamation of human meat was indistinguishable. if he looked hard enough, he could make out the shapes of different body parts. hands, feet, arms, faces here and there, all cauterized together into an unholy organic mixture.

but the sights, the horrors, were no longer new.

dante had been here before.

the soles of his boots were soaked in shimmering crimson, the gold underneath providing a metallic finish to the display of gore beneath him. he used to tremble at such an image, completely appalled by the gore and putrid smell of decay within this world. now, though, he simply continued walking.

the emotions this place had brought forth in him before now felt minuscule in comparison to what took their place.

he once hesitated to cut away at the arms that reached up to pull him down, for although this mound of flesh was undoubtedly a hive, each limb seemed to react to his presence as if it were an individual. the arms would recoil in pain, the hands would be crushed beneath his feet with a deafening crack, the faces would release guttural and piercing screams from their throats before blood erupted from their mouths as they choked.

axe mortalis no longer spared them it’s mercy.

once he believed them innocent. once he believed them individuals, some form of human.

but they tormented him. night after night they dragged him back into this morbid, pungent smelling nightmare. night after night they made him watch his personal serf be cradled in the arms of his beloved primarch, had his primarch been a bloodthirsty and hideous monster. night after night he watched die the woman who made him wish to keep living, her death unwanted but granted by the hands of the demi-god who had denied him the death he both wished for and deserved.

“dante…”

accompanied by his thoughts were the apparitions he had walked for miles to see.

she lay limp and nude in sanguinius’ arms, a familiar sight to the now scowling dante. the lips of the angel were wrapped in tight suction around the skin of her neck, and tears fell from her sorrowful and pained eyes.

many times, he had fallen to his knees and pleaded this monster for mercy. he had allowed it a thousand times to torment both him and the helpless serf in its arms. he no longer cared. he was not real, and neither was the blood dripping from axe mortalis or the endless sea of limbs that reached up to claim him. the fear, the sadness, the pain, all faded into resentment for this mockery of his primarch.

how dare it wear the face of the angel.

his expression remained unchanging as he pulled infernus from his waist and aimed at the chest of the false sanguinius, his hands steady and his voice firm as he spoke to the mimic.

“get your hands off of my wife.”

it’s lips departed from the woman’s neck as it’s face contorted into both confusion and shock. dante was not afraid of him? what had happened to the trembling and sobbing man that used to fall to its knees in anguish? was it abnormal in the modern world to use weaker serfs for blood letting?

no, dante had become just as much a terrifying spectre as the false sanguinius had. blood found itself on his body from head to toe, and he showed no sign of hesitation in pulling a gun on his beloved primarch.

“get your hands,” dante readied the great infernus, placing his finger on the trigger and closing one of his eyes. “off of my wife.”

“dante…”

his wife turned toward him, still caged in sanguinius’ arms, trembling as blood fell from her chin in waterfalls. her breathing remained shallow, now accompanied by wheezing and the occasional moan of pain as the angel dug sharp fingernails into her skin. blood trickled from those wounds, too.

“i love you, dante…”

his eyes closed at the bright flash of white light that consumed his vision.

with a hiss and the ringing of his ears, all had gone still.

had sanguinius killed him?

had he been pulled under again?

no. he could still feel the squelching of meat under his armor. he could still see red all around him. red, and only red. not the shining gold of noble armor or the white of two perfect wings…

red, and only red.

he had pulled the trigger.

he woke with a sharp intake of air, but without his heart skipping a beat this time.

he let out a sigh of relief, for the lack of him jolting awake meant that his peacefully sleeping wife could remain in her state of blissful rest. he looked upon her features, something he was seldom able to appreciate when she was merely his serf, a title much too low for someone of her beauty and compassion.

she had been up nearly every night with him, increasingly so after their marriage. bags had begun to develop under her eyes as a result of her constantly interrupted sleep.

maybe he would allow her rest this morning, rather than wake her to join him for his morning routine. a celebration, he would see it as, for their nightly routine was over.

finally over.

he had little time until his day would begin, and so he lay back down. his body faced the sleeping woman, his eyes continuing to memorize every centimeter and detail of her face.

he lay still for many moments, fighting the urge to close his eyes again and slip into the first peaceful dream he would have in years, a liberty only afforded due to his newfound protectiveness over his wife. for being his wife meant he could treat her as a serf no longer, she gave him duty to attend to… that of her life in the false primarch’s hands.

even after everything he had done both in his dreams and in the waking world, deserving this felt impossible.

it was death that he deserved. the sweet release of death, not the warm and loving embrace of a woman he once held in servitude and only recently brought up to his level. she deserved better long ago.

he moved his hand to gently remove a stray hair from her head, placing his palm down on her cheek once her hair had been tucked securely behind her ear. one final moment in bed to remember throughout the day, a reason to look forward to the next period of rest.

with a kiss placed gently to her forehead, he rose from the comfort of the sheets, immediately missing her warmth, wondering if he could make an excuse for not tending to his duties today.

no. he was responsible for half of the imperium. those duties could not wait.

though they would, if it were ever her need.

he walked toward his door, sparing her one final gaze before he turned his attention to axe mortalis, taking it in his hand as it surged to life with power at his touch, just as she had done to him. his spare hand reached for the keypad on the door, pausing to gaze at the foreign object taped over the numbers by the handle.

a paper, an incredibly small one in which words were inscribed upon its surface with the same pristine delicacy that dante’s smile held as he read over the writing.

“i love you, dante”

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Can you do a dmc boys + v with a erza scarlet (from fairy tail) reader like s/o? She is a great magic swordswoman and weapons master, she is often strict and serous when it comes to serious situations but deep down inside she is very caring and warm towards the people she loves and loves sweets and cute girly things.

OH MY GOD YESSSS! I LOVE FAIRY TAIL! THAT'S SO COOL YOU WATCH IT TOO! YEEEEEEEEE! DMC X FAIRY TAIL, SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS ALL IN ONE!👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆

Sparda boys + V x Erza-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Oh, Dante loves a girl who can both kick his ass and be willing to give him forehead kisses and cuddles whenever he wants them.

-Will definitely want to spar with you, not only to test your skills and hone his, but to help you improve.

-Loves to watch your magic at work; the fact that you can Requip into different outfits not limited to armor alone is incredible and makes him wish he had that power. He'd never have to physically change clothes again!

-Always lets you take charge during missions. You keep a cool head under pressure, always know what to do, and can easily come up with a plan, or part of one, at least.

-Dante knows that deep down inside you're still a girly girl, and of course, will treat you like the princess you know you are, from taking you places to just covering you in kisses and giving you a relaxing massage.

-Will buy you strawberry cake whenever you want it, usually including a few scoops of strawberry ice cream to go with it.

■ Vergil ■

-As a powerful and MOTIVATED swordswoman, you have gained Vergil's respect.

-He sees your commanding nature and level-headedness as a great asset, as well as something he can relate to.

-He appreciates your ability to think on your feet and analyze the enemy. In battle, you're basically a female version of him with magic.

-Vergil appreciates your sweet, feminine side too. Sometimes there are dark days where he feels less motivated than usual, which is when he could use a reassuring pep talk or maybe just a lap to lie in.

-Shares your (and Dante's) passion for strawberry themed desserts.

-Is also very curious about your magic and likes to watch you Requip into different clothes, wondering how many outfits you have at your disposal.

□ Nero □

-Thinks it's really cool that you can change your clothes magically, always surprised with your arsenal of armor.

-Wants to train with you all the time because you two make a badass team.

-Your seriousness is a welcome counteraction to his rash decision making, as you can stop him (forcibly so, if necessary) from doing something stupid.

-Nero likes that under all that toughness, you have a delicate heart, and does his best to take care of you in that regard.

-Will 100% buy you dresses, skirts, cute tops, and whatever else you might want.

-Also buys you any desserts you might crave--including strawberry cake.

● V ●

-V was afraid of you at first. Your headstrong, strict, and serious nature made him think you would hurt him, which wouldn't be hard thanks to his poor health.

-Thinks you're amazing when you fight. He could write epics and poetic songs detailing your feats.

-Once he got to see your magic, he was so inspired, he wrote poems for 8 hours straight and wore out his wrist.

-He never expected you to have a caring, girly side, but after seeing just how sweet you really are, realized that this was your true personality.

-This is great, because sometimes he gets violent nightmares and needs comfort.

-Wants to learn how to make strawberry cake for you.

[linskywords]

OH MY GOD MS. LINSKY HAS DONE IT AGAIN!!! Absolutely loving Kiss Your Boyfriend so far. Can I ask how do you maintain such a high level of productivity with your writing? Your output is incredible! If you feel like sharing how much time you spend writing per day / how many words you average per day that would be really interesting, plus how you find the time / inspiration to write so much? Thanks.

This is so kind, thank you!! This answer got super long and somewhat off-topic, so I'm putting it below a cut.

I am incredibly lucky in my writing time, especially for someone with a small baby. A bunch of years ago I talked my office into letting me go half-time so that I'd have more time to write -- at the time I was thinking specifically of novels, which I have written several of (though not with a level of quality that I'm happy with). Since having a baby last year, I've pretty much only been interested in writing fanfiction; hence the output you've seen. You can pretty much track how much novel-writing I've been doing by looking at my ao3 stats page and seeing how high the wordcount is for a given year. if it's low, there's probably a novel draft or two to blame.

This is a digression, but one that I'm going to include because it's inextricably tied up for me with thoughts about my writing time: having a baby has made me feel much more conflicted about my schedule. We have her in full-time daycare -- partly because it's pretty hard to find anything else around here and it's not nearly as much of a discount to go part-time as you feel like it should be, but also because it's always been understood, between my husband and me, that my writing time is something to be protected at most (not all) costs. I cannot overstate how glad I am for this. That writing time has been absolutely sanity-preserving for me in the first year of motherhood. Baby sleep-and-wake times have pretty much eaten my evenings and weekends, but I still have Thursdays and Fridays and the occasional Wednesday where the only work I have to do is write. It's an unbelievable luxury, and one that's let me feel like I'm still a person and not just a mother. And it's one that I still feel guilty about, even while feeling grateful.

Part of the reason I feel guilty and not just grateful is that over the past year I've been wrestling with my relationship with original fiction. When you're working towards becoming a novelist, you can feel like, okay, it's lucky that I can support myself on half a week's salary, and also it's morally okay because I'm working on acquiring this other Real Job! A Novelist! That's a real thing that pays the bills! (Ha. If only it did, cry a million novelists as I type this.) Capitalism is a scam but it's also a real force that operates on our lives and our psyches. That half a week that I'm not working is half a week when my husband is doing something to further our family's survival and I am not. It's half a week when I could be spending full days taking care of my baby, as certain segments of society would tell you is the greatest thing a woman or person can do, regardless of whether or not they enjoy that type of work (I do not). It would feel more justifiable to me if I were using that time to become A Real Artist -- by which I of course mean one who gets paid. But that part of it really is a scam: fanfiction isn't less of an art just because I don't get paid for it. It's just an art that people can't make a living at, and I'm unbelievably lucky that I don't have to.

I don't know if I'll find myself motivated to return to novel-writing anytime soon. There are parts of me that want the challenge of creating something more structurally complex, that love inventing something entirely new, and those parts are worth listening to, unlike the parts of me that feel like an inadequate imposter because I'm not published. So: maybe. But the publishing industry is its own nightmare, and it's hard to want to dive into it when I currently have so much creative freedom and a place to share my work that doesn't rely on the professional gatekeepers. We also don't currently need the income I might make as a novelist -- which is good, because my understanding is that the idea of making even minimum wage as a novelist is laughable, and I'd do much better going full-time at my job and only writing during weekend baby naps.

So those are the current, very fortunate circumstances of my writing life. Hopefully they will make you feel better if you're someone who works full-time or has other full-time responsibilities or just otherwise can't spend the equivalent of two full working days each week writing, and you're looking at how much I've posted so far this year and thinking that you should have been able to write just as much. Maybe you can, if you're able to find that kind of time in your own life and want to spend it writing, but maybe you can't or maybe you just don't want to and I hope it helps to know I haven't been dashing these stories off during my lunch break or something.

As for speed, I am a relatively fast writer, I think, though not exceptionally so. I usually aim for about 1K an hour when working on a rough draft. If I know a lot about where I want a story to go, it can be faster than that, but I can't sustain that for too many hours in a row. There have been days in recent history when I knew what I wanted to happen and I wrote 9-10K in a day, and I always feel like my brain has been scoured out afterwards and then I'm not usually very productive for a couple days afterward. So probably a more sustainable pace for me is 5-6K of new words per writing day, and then sometimes I'll realize I've taken the wrong approach and have to scrap a bunch of words and go back, and other times it'll have been a while since I last looked at a story so I'll have to go to the beginning and catch myself up, which involves a lot of rewriting also. And then there are days that are supposed to be writing days but something won't click, or I'm sick because I have a daughter in daycare and that means all the germs. So my output is super variable.

I will say, though, that one of the most profound impacts fanfiction has had on my life is that I WANT to sit down and write now. When I first decided I was serious about writing I had a few months off between jobs and decided to use them to write a novel that had been living in my head for a few years at that point. Getting myself to sit down and work on it was like herding slugs. It was an agony of procrastination. At one point I think I watched the entirety of The West Wing between one writing session and the next. I wanted to write, or at least I wanted to want to write, and it made me miserable that I wasn't and yet I still didn't. Writing is really, really hard, and almost anything feels easier in the moment!

But fanfiction has never felt like that to me. It's challenging in plenty of ways, and it's still a lot of work to create a story, but for me it's also a joy. It makes me think of how I used to play dolls when I was a kid, coming up with stories for them to act out. And they didn't have to be the world's most complex stories, with multiple interlocking plots and no words wasted, the way I feel like a novel has to be (I'm probably slightly wrong about this, but only slightly). Writing fic has taken away the barrier I used to face when sitting down to write, where it felt like I needed to hurdle a small building to even start putting words on the page. And the amazing thing is that that ease of starting has transferred to original writing as well. My body and mind have a habit of sitting down at the computer and having fun with words, and I can tap into that even when what I'm writing isn't fic.

And I really do love it. There is nothing in the world as satisfying to me as writing. I'm a little bit of a control freak, and writing is something where I can make things happen exactly the way I think they should. Sitting down, playing out the characters' emotions, figuring out how to make it feel real and compelling, guiding them towards the story I want them to have...there is literally nothing I am better suited for or enjoy more.

As for inspiration...well, in addition to the above, I just really, really want these stories to exist. There is something absolutely irresistible to me in getting characters together, especially if being together means having something that they desperately need but can't admit that they want. The most alluring story premises to me are the ones where there's An Obstacle, a thing that seems like it will bar these two (or three, or four) being together in a real way -- a dam behind which tension can build up, more and more over the course of the story, until the obstacle finally gives way and we have all that lovely tension release. And then the poor deprived main character who didn't think he was even allowed to want what he wanted can finally have it. One of the reasons I DON'T enjoy writing original fiction as much is that genre conventions tend to demand that other things happen in addition to that delicious tension buildup and release. Why dilute it when you could just write the pure thing??

So that's the long answer about my writing circumstances and motivations. I hope you found it interesting, anon -- or at least that you continue enjoying the effects! I have such a voracious appetite to write these stories right now; as long as I keep having the time, I don't see that changing anytime soon.

[writingwenches]

Team "they’re all called Emma"

In my Dance of the Dragon/HOTD AU, there is Aemma Velaryon, the first child of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her worst nightmare. Aemma is more Team Green than any of the greens because it's inherently anti-mom and what’s more patriotic than doing the exact thing your parents don’t want you do to. The princess of the Seven Kingdoms is also in need of her personal posse, many have dared and tried, and many have left defeated. Those who remained are the princess's inner circle…

Princess Aemma Velaryon

Her only motivation is avoiding eternal damnation in the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. In her early teens, she began wearing gloves, and it was soon adopted by her following, it has become a well-known calling card for the group of supporters. While in prayer, veils are worn to cover their hair and face, as time goes on Princess Aemma wears her more often than not.

public moniker – "The Pearl of the Realm"

Lady Emelda Florent

Niece to Queen Alicent, through the Queen's Mother, Lady Floret. Emelda is the only daughter to the current Lord Floret. No one seems to get her name correct, choosing the simplified ���Emma” instead. She longs to join the Faith of the Seven, but her father is requiring her to marry to improve their station even higher. Why can't having one queen in the family be enough?

house seat – Brightwater Keep, The western Reach

house sigil – a red fox in a circle of blue flowers

public moniker – "Lady Septa"

Lady Ima Shett

Thinking is hard, and it is nice when other people do it for you, just like how Lady Ima does her reading, by having someone else do it for her. Illiterate by choice, for the grace of the gods. Life would be so much simpler if Ima could marry her brother, the future Lord of House Shett, Ser Qyle Shett. She is reminded that this is a disgusting thought every time she brings it up, even though the Princess Aemma "gets" to marry one of her uncles. It's just not fair.

house seat – Gulltown, The eastern Vale

house sigil – white seagulls on a field of brown

public moniker – [must i say it T.T]

Joy the Maid

An unremarkable girl, born in a brothel to a whore in King's Landing named Joy, how original. Everything changed for Joy the day a young Prince Aegon Targaryen found himself in her company. He had brought a long a costume for her to wear, and she obliged, and he left, not bothering to take back the scrapes of fabric. But, this was no ordinary fabric, this was the uniform of a maid of the Red Keep, a prestigious position, not held but just any daughter of a whore. Joy found a way into the castle, and found a use for herself, it wasn't hard blending in, picking up slack, and finding a corner to sleep in after her hot meal. Princess Aemma was the only one to notice, that Joy was different, something she said she was not. Joy confessed to Princess Aemma and threw herself at her mercy, only to be lifted up and offered a chance to repent, to truly become the daughter of the gods she was meant to be. Aemma is her savior. Joy would kill for Princess Aemma, and perhaps already has. She has started to introduce herself as Emma to anyone who asks. She always hated her name anyways.

Always up to hear any ideas, suggestion, questions, and general squees~ I would also like to publicly apologize for not being able to stop adding dumb dumb mundane humor to everything I write lol oops

Also, if anyway is ever interested in a short-term RP between our characters, I’m totally down for that~

[RP — “role play” — a few sentences/paragraphs from one character point of view then the next person’s character from their POV and cont. to tell a story or just to open them to unexpected situations/dialogue]

xoxo gossip girl

[ratgrinders]

hello tumblr user ratgrinders... appreciate the work you do even in these trying times (post onscreen homicide). i think the fact that kipperlilly is like, annoying and reminds people of girls they didnt like in high school ppl miss out on a lot of interesting stuff going on w her!

like, the "power hungry teen girl who is just evil and tbk kill her" thing has already been done in fhfy with penelope, & its much more interesting to think about how & why the ratgrinders are doing all this suspicious stuff tbk are noticing-- like the fact that they have been very cagey about showing their combat abilities, the weird stuff going on with various deities, and even kipperlilly's stolen therapy files (lol) are very intriguing!! and imo writing that off as assuming they'll be straightforward, incompetent villians (popular assumption due to their lack of friendship, even though it's famously the weakest magic) is far less interesting. like... they got into this situation for a reason and got involved w all this stuff somehow, & i don't think all of this would happen if they were a normal adv party, even a shitty one. how did they get here! why!! thx

thank you so much, its getting hard out here but nothing can stop the rat grinders stan grind!!!!! (<- is coping. im coping)

yeah but fr, kipperlily is FASCINATING to me. i truly believe that she thinks everything she does is justified in service of her larger goal, whatever that may be. yeah, stone cold murder really isn't the fairest thing you can do to your academic rivals, but writing all of that off as "oh she's just always been a jealous hypocrite who never believed in what she was spouting" i think is an inaccurate interpretation of her own motivations. she clearly believes in something.

cuz the thing is, we're still not really sure was kipperlily wants? ("egg on my face for wanting something"). sure, she's trying to run for student body president, but what exact rules is she hoping to implement, and how does that relate to trying to resurrect a rage god? plus, grix attacked ruben because he/his ritual were a direct threat to the existence of the school, which seems counter productive if you're trying to become president of it.

and what cause would kipperlily specifically have to be tied up with a rage god anyway? there's nothing that clearly on the surface ties a little type A halfling rogue to a fiendish god of rage and conquest, hell some of the other members in her party seem like on the surface they would have a closer tie to it (like both of their now dead clerics, mary ann who literally harnesses rage, ruben who is full of teen angst). kipperlily's apparently been filled with rage since freshman year, but why? (is she like riz, who spent his whole life infected with an aspect of the nightmare king and literally grew up with this seed of doubt inside him? did something similar happen to kipperlily?)

ankarna is the goddess of justice and the conviction to act when they see something unfair. no matter what, i think kipperlily truly believes that she's witnessed something unfair. and it feels significant to mention that this last murder is an escalation on the rat grinders' part. the other people who have ended up dead around them (lucy, yolanda, the original hosts of frosty faire) all seemed to have died indirectly as a result of the rage crystals and the uncontrollable rage it inspires. this is the first time we're seen stone cold premeditated murder, done with simply a blade and betrayal.

honestly, this transition seems to mirror what ankarna herself went through, starting off as the goddess of conviction and justice but slowly transitioning to one of conquest and war. brennan said something about ankarna, "yeah its nice to have someone like that on your side who will stand up for you, but you better hope that person is always right". i think what we're seeing now is someone with that same conviction, but with a misguided cause.

kipperlily's crossed a line now and i wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't end up redeemed by the end of the season, but i'm still interested in how she and her party were motivated to do this in the first place, because like you said i don't think a normal adventuring party would've ended up here. it takes a lot to transition to multiple murders!

[tauforged]

i haven’t had much motivation to like Draw draw lately but i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the corpus written language. iunno if any of y’all remember the cipher i made years and years ago with the intention of translating written text found in the game but i recently dug it up again and started going over it —

hey, yeah, there it is! it was useful for reading written corpus, but not so much for writing/memorizing it because the language itself is very boxy and rigid and doesn’t lend itself well to writing as opposed to typing/printing (which is almost definitely by design) so naturally i sat down during some downtime at work today and i played with it a little bit, just to see what it might look like when scribbled a little more loosely/casually and get a good read on ways people might stylize or simplify some of the letters for convenience. just for funsies

(i especially took a little bit of time using darvo as a guinea pig character-wise for playing with signatures and handwriting styles because i feel like he’d have a very similarly constantly-messy-despite-all-best-efforts style of writing to my own lol i was having a REALLY hard time keeping it neat and uniform so i just decided whatever. shoutout to every one of us out there who writes just slightly too fast and always ends up accidentally going diagonal with it. no gods no masters no margins we scribble like men)

it took some practice but it’s pretty fun to write once you get the hang of it, even with my hand tremors. this alphabet is kind of a dyslexia nightmare though LMAO it’s far too easy to get a’s e’s and i’s mixed up if you aren’t careful

[oatlystrawberryicecream]

you know i have always loved an underdog. a team that hasn’t won in fifty years and is a long shot to make the playoffs but they have a couple of players who are endearingly hard working and scrappy and loyal. the type of players who brush up against success and put their head down and go three times as hard to try and grasp it. and as a fan you watch and yearn and hope that one day they get it. you tell yourself that they can’t possibly be bad forever, i mean the cubs managed to break a hundred year curse and your team isn’t doing that bad. year after year through training camps and season openings and all star breaks and tear stained post season press conferences and lackluster drafts you tell yourself that it is a matter of time. you stay as they cycle through coaches and general managers and executives and maybe even owners. the players who taught you how to love the sport retire ringless, prospects fail to blossom and are sent to the minors, rookies become vets and request trades and decades later you still can’t help but curse at the tv when refs miss a call. winning will be worth it. if they win it once you will be able to hold those memories in your heart forever and nothing will be able to touch it. you will be able to talk about the meagre years with pride because you kept the hope alive through it all. but the real truth is that even if they never do it you can’t bring yourself to love them less just as long as they keep trying like hell, you might hate them for the ordeal they put you through but you are a sick freak who is so broken you couldn’t stop loving them if your life depended on it. so of course i ended up a jason todd fan and of course it is gonna stay that way. commiserating and ranting and making cracks about god hating my faves in particular is second nature and i can and will out stubborn those hacks at detective comics. you want jason to die a meaningless two second death to tie up a stupid plotline? you want him to become as bad as his murderer? gonna wash away all his notable personality traits? ignore all his motivations to use him as a prop to make batman seem reasonable? i watched claude giroux score a hat trick in the final game of the regular season to secure a playoff spot and still lose the mvp vote to a decent taylor hall year, i can name all eight goalies they used in the record setting nightmare season, i saw richards and carter leave and finally win, i remember when the vinny lecavalier contract was so bad putting a hit out on him would have been good cap management, and i saw the head coach compare one of his players to a toilet seat TO THE MEDIA. you can kick jason down the bad writing stairs as many times as you want and i will still be here trying to pick him back up.

[mania-sama]

If you don't mind me asking, who are your top 5 (or top 7) favorite (fictional) characters ever from any media? Why love them?

thanks so much for the ask!! i always love your questions <3

God, this is a hard one. Because I've consumed and fallen in love with so many pieces of media in my life, it's hard for me to tell who exactly my favorite characters are. The pool is just too big to choose from! But I'll try my best regardless!

Also an important note that as I grow older, this list could very well become out-dated very fast. Who knows what I will see or what medias I will consume that will alter my perception of reality?

In no particular order:

Bakugou Katsuki [My Hero Academia] -> THE OG. I REPEAT. THE OG ONLINE OBSESSION. My history with My Hero Academia goes way back on my online persona, when I was a wee lad and experiencing my first online hyperfixation (Warrior Cats not included). I had him as online nickname and profile picture on multiple accounts and instances. I look back and cringe on this era of my life, but I still will not stand for slander on this character. I obsessed over him because he is an incredibly well-written character, with faults, passions, interesting qualities, and an insane amount of character growth that, arguably, rivals Zuko. His character motivations still stand out to me to this day. I quit reading/watching BNHA around the war arc, like right when it finished and Midoriya fled the scene. No particular reason for quitting, I think; I just moved on from that part of my life. But, Bakugou will always stick with me just a little. AND YOU KNOW WHAT. I liked him when everyone else still hated him. I liked him before it was cool to like him. Shout out to 2020-2021 me for being an OG. I'm still a "Ground Zero" truther to this very day.

Percy Jackson [Percy Jackson and the Olympians] -> Anyone that has read the PJO and/or the following series will not be surprised to find him here. He's like Spiderman but better, which is saying a lot because I really, really like Spiderman. Percy Jackson is there for every kid who has ever felt out of place in this world; for every kid who has struggled in succeeding in any aspect of their life; for every kid who grew up in a household different from their peers; for every kid who behaves in ways that other people don't seem to understand. Spiderman was a character created to represent the reader of superhero comics: a teenage white boy. Of course, later iterations of Spiderman come to represent more individuals, but that is not who he was originally. Percy Jackson is a character that comes from a place of necessity. He is a character that represents the reader of PJO: a kid who doesn't quite fit in with the rest, for one reason or another. Percy is funny, ultra-overpowered, relatable, and still gets his happy ending. Nothing more to want in a character, really.

Robbie White | Axe Boy [Identity V] -> My hunter main for Identity V. I don't really know how to explain why I love him so much, and how he has become a character I get emotional over very fast. I seem to find one random character from a game and attach myself to them like a jellyfish. Not only is his backstory devastatingly heartbreaking, he is adorable in all of his animations, standby motions, emotes, etc.. He has carried me to many victories, and he will continue to carry me in every match I play. I literally forced myself to download IDV on my laptop and play a few matches just so I could get his Little Nightmares crossover skin. No matter how far he falls from meta, they can never make me hate you Robbie.

Kugisaki Nobara [Jujutsu Kaisen] -> I had a LOT of internal debate over this. I guess I can't confirm until I leave the fandom, but for right now, she's definitely one of my top favorite characters of all time. I'm considering writing an analysis on her because she is just so good. I have never seen a female character in a piece of media that isn't explicitly feminine embody femininity so well. It actually impresses me to a degree I cannot reasonably tell you. She's just perfect. Everything about her is everything that I want to be as a woman. She's comfortable in her own skin, confident not in a man-ish way, but in a distinctly feminine way. What gives that she wants to feel pretty and strong in a physical way? Who is saying that she can't have both? Not to mention that she's also extremely strategically smart. I love her. I really, really do. Sometimes, I imagine strangling Gege's avatar and it makes me very happy.

Oikawa Tooru [Haikyuu] -> I honest-to-God cannot believe he made it here. I tried so hard to find a character to replace him. I did not want him here out of SPITE. But here he is, somehow, and not replaced by Miles Morales (who, upon reflection, would only be here because I did not want Oikawa to be here. Miles didn't even make my honorable mentions. That is proof enough, I suppose, that Oikawa somehow deserves his spot). I've talked about it before, but I'll reiterate it here: Oikawa is a character that is very, very easy to toy around with. He is THE teenager, and THE adult. You can project pretty much any anxiety or worry onto him and it'll make sense because he's got so many self-worth issues it's laughable. I don't want to spend more time talking about him than he deserves. I am as disappointed as you are that he made this list.

Honorable Mentions:

Razor & Xiao [Genshin Impact] -> They would've made the list if I could've put one above the other for real. Silly whimsical attachment with immense appreciation for the character writing vs serious love for the writing and development of the character beyond words. Simply an impossible choice.

Akabane Karma [Assassination Classroom] -> He was my favorite character of all time at one point in history and is still the inspiration behind my Tiktok nickname (that I may change one day). Unfortunately, it's been a long time since I've watched the anime and I can't remember much of what drew me to Karma in the first place that isn't already achieved in other of my favorite characters. Still, I thought I'd honor him here.

[if-maggots-knew-god]

IMKG- META POST

What is ‘if maggots knew god’ ?

What does it want to achieve?

Why is it taking so long?

(What is) if maggots knew god (IMKG) is a hobby-writing/illustration project of mine, i your ‘humble’ author and artist Hunter, decided to write and illustrate a graphic novel style horror/psychological comic. Because of I want to (:

The story premise can be found on the accounts pinned post so I’d refer to that in terms of explaining the idea.

The story serves as my personal little pet project not just to tell a story but also to learn about the process and in a sense “playtest” different ideas, a lot of the story ideas in IMKG are inspired by my own literal dreams (and nightmares tbh). I’m hoping to make all of this somewhat coherent into one story but to be completely honest I’m really just messing around with all this because it’s fun (:

(What does it want?) The story, focuses heavily on the concept of immortality, many characters within the story face a unique kind of immortality tied to the characters arc. In tangent with this one of the central themes of the story is also death, and the ‘ending’ of a story. What makes a good ending? What makes a bad one? How long should a story go on? Which are all questions a storyteller faces when writing.

“The story MUST end” to put it concisely, an objective fact. This also applies to living beings hence the theme of immortality, when is it appropriate for someone to die? What happens if they refuse?

The story is structured around the stages of grief, with an “act” of the story dedicated to each stage, the prologue (which is already finished and available!! Find on pinned in the chapter index if you haven’t read it already!) acting as the event that sparks this grief, although this might not be fully clear with the information currently available (will be elaborated on as the story continues though, as any prologue does)

Long story short, IMKG is a story that questions why things must end, how and the resulting grief from things ending. All wrapped up in a (hopefully) nicely illustrated horror setting.

(Why is it taking so long) I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to single handedly write and illustrate a 5 act story with several chapters for each act while ALSO figuring out the process in a practical sense.

It’s hard though!! And like, I’m also a full time student plus life and all that. Don’t get me wrong it’s tons of fun but there’s a reason they have multiple people for this professionally! Woof!

The process includes, a beta script, a final script, storyboarding the labels, rendering (sketch, lineart, colour, shading and lettering!!!) in the future, it’s possible that I might include friends in the process, currently my roommate helps me beta-read the script and has also helped a bit with the design process of things!

This blog has been around for about a year now! (Woo!! Yippie!!!) which I’ve spent figuring out major plot points, character designs for the main characters and TONS of world building,

a lot of which I’ve been sharing for the people who have been around since the beginning (and who I cannot thank enough for being around, seriously guys it might not be much but the handful of y’all are a key component in the making of this, the encouragement on posts keeps me working and motivated!! And not to name favorites but especially thanks to Elias-the-Corvid and sop-soap)

Conclusion

This has all been a decently sized rant, mostly for posterity’s sake, looking back at where we’ve been and where it’s all going from here as I’m finally getting into actually making the whole thing! And also a little bit to hopefully entice new people to be interested (:

There’s a lot more to this that I can’t wait to share

[barclaysangel]

The Birth of Jun (transfem Juniper Wheeler AU)

I literally wrote this within about 5 hours, which is crazy. I lost sleep just to finish this to make sure it’ll be posted by morning. I’m still nervous to post it since this is my first time writing for this AU and I just hope y’all like it. If you guys do, then MAYBE I’ll write a second part where Jun gets the name Juniper. Maybe.

Anyway, this is setting in the Final Family/Chucky season 2 rewrite AU where Jun survives and lives with Andy in the middle of the woods, torturing and killing Chuckys together. Because canon does not exist to me, obviously. I’ve written drabbles/oneshots about this AU before and this is just another one but with transfem Juniper.

If you guys really do like this, pls leave comments, it insanely fuels my motivation! I thrive off it and I’ll also appreciate some feedback since this is my first time writing a trans character.

Thank you and enjoy :)

Tags: @the-carlos-cow-eyes @erasedmystic111 @streets-in-paradise

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Internalized transphobia, mentions of suicidal ideation, cursing

There was something wrong with Junior. 

That much she had always known, ever since she could remember. She wanted to be a princess, not a prince. A mermaid, not a merman. She wanted to be something that she could never be. 

But Junior hid it for so long, and she hid it well. She buried that part of herself so deep down that no one would ever suspect it growing up. She became the perfect “masculine, traditional son” that her father wanted. She destroyed every single part of herself and burnt it all to the ground just to please him. 

And even though she killed her own father, she still would have done it all over again. 

Gods, she was pathetic. Pathetic and stupid and dirty and broken. 

Despite Junior’s efforts to hide her dirty little secret from the world, she still had moments where it would bubble and come up again. The dysphoria with her short hair, flat chest, and other features that just didn’t feel right. It would be bad enough at times where she wanted to curl into a ball and cry all the fucking time. 

But she would have no choice but to pull herself together and keep up the act, just like she always did. 

However, this moment wasn’t like the other moments with her father. It wasn’t him she had to worry about, but Andy. 

Andy wasn’t like her father at all. He was patient, understanding, and kind. Her father would be ashamed if Junior ever cried in front of him and tell him to “Stop being a pussy and pull yourself together, you’re a man!”, but Andy would hold her in his arms and comfort her. He had been there through every mental breakdown, depressive episodes, nightmares, moments of self-destructive tendencies, all of it. 

Andy stayed right by her side and never budged despite how much Junior tried to push him away. She pushed and pushed and pushed but he never stayed away through it all. 

Junior wasn’t used to that. When she pushed people away and burned bridges to the ground, it stayed that way. Just look at her relationship with Jake. But Andy refused to be pushed away and has made it very clear to her that he wasn’t planning to go anywhere. 

Yet that still didn’t reassure her for some reason. It still filled her with so much fear if Andy ever looked too hard and realized just how broken and defective she really was. 

So once again, Junior hid it. She hid her secret under lock and key and made sure to keep her masculine act on display. 

But then the dysphoric moment hit hard, harder than before, and she wanted to die. 

Junior didn’t want to leave her cot. Her appetite was long gone. She just tried to bury herself deep into her blankets and hoped that one of the Chuckys she and Andy had been torturing could escape and stab her to death, finally finishing his job that he failed to do months ago. 

Andy had been no stranger to her being depressed. They had been staying at that small cabin for almost 5 months, it was now the beginning of April. Sometimes he would give Junior some space if she truly needed it but most of the time, he would be there to offer her food and water and just an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. He hardly left her alone when she got like this. 

She didn’t blame him. Andy was probably worried that she would take one of his guns and end it all. 

Not like that idea wasn’t tempting. 

But right now, Junior wanted to be alone. She wanted to forget that the weather was getting warmer, which would make her have to ditch the hoodies and reveal the parts of herself that she hated. She just couldn’t bear to go through this, she would much rather hide away for hours or even days. Just as long as she would feel just slightly normal again. 

However, she never really was that lucky. 

“Junior?” She heard after the three light knocks, shuddering deeply and tearing up from the sound of her own name, like something about it was just wrong. “Can I come in?”

Curse Andy for respecting her privacy and boundaries. Logan would just barge in without a warning. Despite everything she was feeling, she still managed a small “Uh huh…” to placate him since she knew he would just be more worried if she refused. 

Andy opened the door slowly and she could smell why. Even without moving from her position under the blankets, she could smell the food that Andy was bringing in. When he stood beside her cot, Junior lowered the blankets enough to see the plate of scrambled eggs and toast in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Normally that would make her mouth water but this time, it made her stomach churn. 

“I know you may not feel like eating right now, but I can’t let you go the whole day without something in your system. Can you try to eat something please?” Andy spoke gently to her, placing the plate and the mug on the floor beside the cot. 

Junior merely shook her head slightly. “I’ll eat later. ‘M not hungry.” She mumbled before putting the pillow from under her head now on top of her face. 

Andy sighed quietly but instead of leaving, he sat down on the edge of the cot. “Kid, I can’t let you starve. I’m not asking you to finish off the plate, but just have a few bites with your coffee. Please?” 

She didn’t say anything this time, her silence was enough of an answer. 

“Junior, c’mon,” She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut when Andy said her name again, “I know you’re not in the mood but you’re gonna just make yourself feel worse. Remember what happened a few weeks ago?” 

She wished she couldn’t. Going nearly the entire day without eating only to almost binge afterwards, resulting in her throwing her guts up. But Andy was with her the whole time, rubbing her back and keeping an arm around her so she would stay supported rather than to fall face first into her own vomit from exhaustion along with cleaning her up afterwards once she was finished hurling and crying. 

No matter what, Andy stayed with her through everything. 

Imagine if he found out you thought you were a girl, Junior thought bitterly to herself, He’d despise you and leave you then without a doubt. 

She stiffened briefly when she felt a hand on her ankle from over the blankets before recognizing Andy’s touch, relaxing just slightly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Junior quickly shook her head from under the pillow. She couldn’t, she absolutely couldn’t. For the first time, she didn’t want to ruin something good. She already felt like she was one wrong move from spilling it all. 

She just needed to keep her mouth shut and hold it all in. She could do it, she’s been doing it her entire life. She can keep going. 

Andy gave her a gentle and reassuring squeeze to her ankle. “Okay. I just want you to know that I’m here if you do want to talk. I don’t need to talk, I can just listen to as much as you need me to. Alright, Junior?” 

Junior winced and wasn’t able to swallow down the whimper this time, which immediately got Andy’s attention. 

“Hey, kiddo, what’s wrong?” She couldn’t see his face but she knew that he would be wearing that concerned frown, the one where he genuinely acted worried for her. 

Junior shook her head again, keeping her eyes closed because she knew she would break down and cry. Andy needed to leave now before she would completely lose her mind. 

The hand on her ankle moved to her back, rubbing small circles there to comfort her. “Junior?” 

“Stop…” 

Andy paused from his motions. “What?” 

“Stop…calling me that!” Junior didn’t know why but it was like something shattered inside of her, like the dam in her finally broke. 

She ripped the pillow off of her head and bolted upright, the suddenness making Andy back up slightly. “I have tried so fucking hard to be Junior! To be the perfect son Junior. The cross-country star Junior. The strong and masculine Junior. I have ripped myself to shreds and molded myself to be what everyone else wanted me to be! But for what? It’s not fucking worth it because I’m not! I’m not Junior! I’m not a boy! I’ve tried so fucking hard but I’m not, I just keep trying and trying but nothing fucking works anymore! I’m so sorry but that isn’t me, this fucking isn’t me! I’m too broken and fucked up to be Junior and to be a fucking boy!” 

Junior didn’t realize she was screaming until she finally stopped, her voice hoarse. And no one said a word. Andy stared at her with wide eyes and an unreadable expression as reality slowly settled in. 

Oh fuck…what did I just do?

She started shaking, her breathing picked up and she hid her face in her hands, sobbing. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean it, I was l-lying, I-I-I…” for some reason, now she couldn’t even get the words out after everything from how hard she was hyperventilating. 

Congratulations, you fucking idiot. You really did it now. You ruined it. Now Andy will think you’re disgusting. He’ll hate you. He’ll throw you out and finally leave you alone, just like you deserve, you pathetic piece of sh–

Andy’s hands went around Junior’s body, pulling her closer to him carefully until her cheek was pressed to the crook of his neck, one hand now rubbing her back up and down soothingly. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, breathe. Take some deep breaths, kiddo. Just follow my breathing, okay? Breathe…” 

She was shaking through her sobs, her hands clinging onto Andy’s shirt tightly in her fists. His other hand went up to cradle the back of her head so softly as if she was something gentle and precious to him. Junior could hardly breathe but Andy kept guiding her, speaking to her kindly until she was able to finally pull in deep breaths with his help. 

They barely spoke, with Junior crying and Andy whispering reassurances to her. When she started to calm down, she didn’t move, she felt too mortified. It felt like one wrong move, and Andy would finally turn her away. 

“Kiddo?” He finally spoke, “Do you remember what I’ve always told you? About what I want for you?” 

Junior sniffled, still crying but not nearly as badly while holding onto Andy’s shirt still for dear life. “For…for me t-to be a kid…” 

“Yeah, that too. But what else?” 

She thought about it longer this time, hesitating. “…that you-you want me to be h-happy…” 

Andy moved away just slightly, making her whimper again but instead he adjusted himself to fully face Junior and hold her face in his hands. “Exactly. I care about you, kid. I’ve had since the moment you basically passed out on my doorstep. All I want is for you to be happy. And if being a boy doesn’t make you happy…then stop trying. Stop putting yourself through that pain, okay? Just…just be yourself.” 

He was looking at her so seriously yet so gently, as if all that mattered in that moment was her. Unshed tears began building up again in her eyes and Andy continued speaking. “I mean it. I will never judge you for who you are. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere just because you aren’t a boy. I swear on the River Styx.” 

That oath meant more to Junior than any other sort of promise. It was an oath from Percy Jackson, and really any kind of Greek mythology. They both knew how serious that oath was. And for that reason, it was what gave her the push that she needed to finally come out. 

“Andy…I…I’m a girl…” her voice was tiny but it was still enough for Andy to hear, starting to cry again but he pulled her back into a hug. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you…” He reassured her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’m so fucking proud of you, kiddo. I promise I am. I know this wasn’t easy for you, I can’t even begin to imagine how long you’ve felt like this but never said anything. So thank you for telling me. I’m proud of you.” 

Junior cried a little harder at that, still not entirely used to having someone tell her that they were proud of her. But this time, the tears were more of relief and she just completely leaned against him. 

Never in her life did she ever think she’d actually come out and tell someone this secret. She just thought she had to fight the feeling down further and further until it disappeared or it just ended up killing her. 

But no. She lost it and everything spilled out. But…it didn’t end up badly like she thought it would. 

Andy accepted her. He accepted her without another thought. Strong and tough and badass Andy accepted her and told her that he was proud of her for coming out. 

This felt almost like a dream, something too good to be true for Junior. 

“So…I suppose you don’t want to be called by that name anymore, right?” Andy asked and she nodded in response, gripping onto his shirt again. “Okay. Is there…another name I can call you? It doesn’t need to be your permanent name, it could be like a…placeholder. Just something temporary until you can figure out a name that makes you feel like you.” 

She didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking long and hard before settling on something simple. “Maybe just…Jun. For now. Jun. Without an E at the end.” 

Andy nodded and lightly leaned his cheek to her head. “Jun without an E at the end, got it.” 

Jun could practically hear the smile on Andy’s face and lazily hit his side with the back of her hand. “You’re a dork…” 

“Yeah, yeah I am. But so are you, so…” Andy poked Jun’s side, making her giggle before she yawned, her dysphoric episode and breakdown now tuckering her out. 

“You tired, kiddo?” He asked and she yawned again while nodding, not moving from her position. 

“Can I just…stay here? For a bit? Please?” Jun asked quietly and almost immediately, his hand went up to her hair and stroked her hair softly, causing her to close her eyes. 

“Sure you can. And I’ll stay right here with you too. But as soon as you wake up and get hydrated, you need to eat, okay?” Andy told her, accepting his fate to have Jun fall asleep on his shoulder. 

She nodded, yawning once more as a sense of pure peace and bliss filled her. She knew she was safe now. Nothing would happen to her. 

“Thank you Andy…” Jun murmured under her breath. 

Just before she could drift off, she felt Andy kiss her forehead, one hand playing with her hair and the other being secured around her body. “Anytime. Goodnight, Jun.” 

[sanstropfremir]

Hello i hope you don't mind but in your opinion what do you think makes a good survival show. I know you talked about wild idol and 0 year 0 class but i wanted your in depth thoughts on the topic.

ohhhh i looooooove when people indulge my bullshit god bless you anons. before i talk about what makes a good survival show, i want to illustrate why the produce format makes a bad survival show. and we can start that by asking a question:

why is fan voting allowed?

obviously you can give the typical answer of 'if fans are engaged than it will drive up numbers' and that the shows are basically only made for fan engagement because we all know that kpop is profoundly and tragically numbers driven at the end of the day, but let's instead live in a world where the producers who pitch and head these shows actually want to make a talented group. so why are the fans involved? at all? sorry to say it, but fans are stupid. they aren't trained professionals in this field, so do you actually think they're going to be thinking carefully about the trainees that they see on screen every week and how their skills fit together? about the fundamentals of group direction and management? no of course they aren't, they're just going to vote blindly for their precious meow meow of the week. so already, we're at a deficit. and if you include the fact that these companies will rig the shows to their own biases (that are not artistically motivated), a double deficit.

second issue: the 'challenges'. they're trash. yes you do want to test an idol's vocal and dance skills, but just because you put a group of the most talented people in a room together does not mean that they will get along or have good chemistry. a huge part of being in a performance group (of any kind) is how well you communicate with each other, and that requires you to know how to compromise, how to be kind, how to take feedback, how to work collaboratively. but when you run trainees through week after week wringers of difficult choreo and tough vocals with very short deadlines, how can you expect them to actually be able to internalize and act upon any of these other skills? they may on a surface level, but the priority is not placed on it. AND when you add individualized voting into the mix, trainees have no incentive to actually meaningfully work together.

what makes wild idol and 0year 0class different from this typical formula is that the emphasis of both these shows was actually on making a well rounded group, so the shows were structured in order to faciliate that happening. both had limited trainee numbers (wild idol 40ish down to 16 in the third episode, 0y0c 15), have little to no fan voting (none for 0y0c, only in the last few rounds for wild idol) and both had challenges that were about testing 'non traditional' idol skills (throwing fuckin logs around, doing fashion shows and photoshoots, writing poetry/rap, doing a lot of repetition, etc). personally i think 0y0c is the better show in general because it does everything the way i would do it, but also it would never be watched by a korean audience so i think wild idol is the best a korean survival show is gonna get.

the difference that makes the biggest impact on how effective i think 0y0c over wild idol is the fact that the producer (avu chan) is a significant part of the show itself. she's literally there with the trainees in every episode, giving them assignments and evaluating them, talking to them about the issues they're having and why they aren't succeeding. there's discussions with her about why she chose to do the show and what type of group she wants to make, she's incredibly transparent about what characteristics she's looking for in the trainees and also about how difficult the industry is; the tagline of the show is 'welcome to your nightmare' bc that's literally what she told the group in the first episode. she's honest about the fact that it's hard, that you will have to work with people you don't like, that you will be rejected many many times, and that people won't always like you. she puts them through challenges that are meant to bring out how well the trainees understand themselves and also give them opportunities to grow and develop into well rounded people with good communication and emotional skills. watching 0y0c actually made me realize that i sincerely believe that the lack of a visible producer with a goal in kpop survival shows is actually a huge reason why i don't think they work. 99.9% of these shows are transparently just making groups to make money, so they have no artistic focus, no creative leader, no drive except to be the lowest common denominator to get the most fans. why wild idol worked for me was bc the producer was clearly trying to make a 4th gen group in the second gen model. even though it wasn't explicitly stated by anyone, the mentors they brought in, the songs they had them cover, even the styles of original songs they did, made that very obvious. i know people say kpop isn't supposed to be serious but like. the people who make it, the fans who enjoy it, we ALL deserve to have something with creativity and drive to enjoy, not just a race to the bottom of the capitalist money pit.

[sencity]

heyyyy!! im frantically infatuated with your ocs and your writing style, so i’ve been thinking ab which idea would be best to request of you for a MINUTE

anyways, what about co-dependent! fem plus sized y/n (rlly specific ik 😭) with amunet. so y/n is always fishing for compliments and comments from amunet, memorizing her poems to surprise her and gain extra attention, asking her to help her with writing assignments or how to properly sharpen her kitchen knives (even when she doesn’t need help with these things). and on the more angsty side she would go without eating or bathing or leaving her room for a concerning amount of time just so amunet would be invasive and take care of her. that could be specifically when y/n fucks up and feels bad, like trying to repent or something. y/n could even blame it on someone she knows amunet doesn’t like, just to reassure herself that amunet still cares enough to write her a sonnet out of that persons blood.

i just wanna see a yandere be with someone who’s as needy, obsessive, impulsive and unstable as them. i’ll leave the thoughts to you if you have any smut ideas for this concept, ik you can figure that out all on your own… *eyes your smut*

OK THATS IT FOR NOW, PLEASE EXCUSE THE RAMBLE I JUST WANTED TO GIVE A GOOD DESCRIPTION. WRITE WHICHEVER GENRE, I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE THE THOUGHT..

and i did not word check this so rlly, dm if you’re confused ☠️

ykw, this would be interesting, seeing is y/n is practically all yandere for our wind goddess… it may get a little angsty, however, so brace yourself, cariño <3.

nightmare fuel: emotional manipulation (guilt-tripping, threats, + god complex if you squint hard enough), self-harm, murder, + suggestive themes.

ironically, yandere!poet wouldn’t be too interested in dependent!darling at first. as a possessive woman, it would be a turn off for you to be so dependent on everyone you come across. not only you seem easy, but it made her ponder about how many people you allowed to take advantage in your vulnerability. and yet, even after taking your needy nature into account, she still couldn’t make this fixation towards you dissipate. it’s difficult telling those pretty eyes and cherubic face no…

yandere!poet will always be there for you, whether if it’s sticking random motivational or flirtatious haikus around your house to uplift your spirits and insecurities or bestowing eternal wounds upon someone who dares give you a hard time without proper reason (even if the reason is valid they’ll still end up on a stretcher) she’ll be there! especially when you’re ill.

“usually it’s like i’m in my honeymoon with you every time you’re sick…” she would point out fondly, her tone resembling sweet, raw sugar canes that were watching the tides reside on a vacant beach. somehow, she knew that you were purposely getting sick just for her hands to scout your body meticulously, which she wanted to berate you for, but not in this state. not when you’re so vulnerable like putty in her palms.

she’s always inclined to cater to you however since she adores you so, so, so so much, especially when you beg her to finish mere tasks such as needing something on top of the fridge or cook simple dishes. there’s has been times where your requests turned out to be rather intimate hints. take the time when you politely begged asked her to zip your dress for you since the zipper was “too far.” how coy…

“mm, it’s broken, but you knew that already, didn’t you? are you truly in dire need of what i always have?” she would taunt you in a cheeky manner as her acrylic nail traveled down your pudgy rolls which was buttered with aloe vera gel. you’d of course give her a coy, breathless titter in return as frissons of pleasure scampered along your spine.

though, she knew that you will have to be trained soon, since dependent!darling tends to get a little manipulative when it comes to yandere!poet’s simple demands. she doesn’t see any cons to your neediness, but tampering with your physical health is where she draws the line. away for too long? you’ll find more ways to get sick knowing she would take care of you. too busy? hm, a minor injury should do the trick…

or you caught chasing attention elsewhere due to your impatience? on your knees beneath the blood-stained tiles, tear-kissed cheeks, and a livid lover glowering down at you with a disdainful look as if she wasn’t the one to demand you to drop down and apologize until her ears bled.

“you approach anyone with a pulse when i’m away. i’m your savior, damn it, my heartbeats should be memorized by now, prayers should be ringing…”

despite her tone being awfully calm and her touch being extremely careful as if she was handling fine china, her words didn’t compliment her actions in the slightest, which only induced your conflicted and worrisome state. your mind is raided with thoughts of her finally ridding you, even though you’re in a crab’s clutches.

you would think that the inanimate corpse nearby would have you bawling like this, but no…

"i need you to make only me essential, beloved.” she repeated herself, her tone a bit more strained as she listened to your slurred apologies that you were order to keep alive. “i need you to depend on only me like i'm your primary resource. do you understand? i'II have my soul engraved so deep in your memory. you'll forget how to even crawl without me. do i make myself clear?”

[fights4users]

Just you? | The page, Alan and clu

Someone said this ages before me but the page was meant to get Alan at the arcade, Alan inside the grid. Clu wanted him but settled for Sam. I want to dive a bit deeper into that, especially after reading betrayal (really the novel does wonder for his character and providing additional context for legacy).

Backup plan—

Contacting Alan was the last desperate attempt to find a normal way out. I can imagine Kevin would have talked about him quite frequently, about how good he was and maybe even admitting to clu he was the one to originally write tron. So, clu figures out a way to contact this “great user” and make him fix everything. Maybe he could finally give the grid a purpose from the outside or do some work on the inside to stabilize everything. I don’t even think clu knows what all needs to be done to fix everything- he’s been lost and a bit power hunger for a while now I’d imagine he’d be forceful with Alan but have good reason to be.

I think having Alan rewrite and fix the grid from the outside (or in if possible) would make the most sense. What the hell use would alan have otherwise? He wouldn’t have a disk! Sam only got one once he was put into the games, additionally alan wouldn’t have the knowledge of the grid to use his disk as a key after receiving one. So getting Alan in the first place had nothing to do with “out there” or “world domination”.

Last resort—

I saw a theory a while ago which I wholeheartedly believe that said, Clu only did all of this (the army, the world domination plans) to give the grid a purpose. It really makes his authoritarian decent into madness all the more tragic, as stated before he never had a chance to be good. He can’t create new programs he can only rewrite what’s there— he’s slipping and out of ideas because endlessly building in a overheating system is a absolute nightmare. A mindless army works great as it takes up as little energy as possible, you can conserve what remains and give your citizens something to actually do… now mind you it’s not a good something to be a mindless drone. After Alan falls through he goes on with the first plan. I also believe the world domination thing also comes about because he’s a reflection of Flynn’s  arrogance back when he made the grid— this is so his speech can almost identically match Flynn’s “in their is our destiny!” -> “out there is our destiny!”. More that for a character motivation that makes sense.

Clu is a dangerous line. As the more you read into things the more sympathetic he becomes the more you understand his motivations and what lead him down this path. You almost forget how horrible his actions are from how badly a hand he has been dealt. He is fascinating and so unbelievably sad that he saw this (Dictatorship, mind control, genocide ,etc.) as the only way out. He is the antagonist but not the villain.

Sam—

No one was expecting Sam to be the one to arrive at the arcade. Clu didn’t take Into account Alan’s care for him,  probably because clu had his own issues with Sam since he was a baby. It’s interesting as Sam is basically the crux that sets off the film. Plan B didn’t work so we’re going for the crazy world domination plan, let’s use you to lure your dad out of hiding. To me it sort of comes through as the backup plans of backup plans to him- if Alan had come would he have concerned himself with Flynn at all? This god is helpful, this god sticks to his words and thinks things through…oh god the absolute angst potential in that. (Again keep in mind that Clus hatred is for a Flynn who didn’t go through 20 years of  philosophy lessons).

This is all me just theorizing anyway, my own way at picking through legacy trying to understand it. 🤷‍♀️ Clu is such a fascinating character that you really have to feel bad for, and again it’s a little concerning? Because you forget how much bad stuff he really did just because they fumbled Flynn SO hard. The Kevin Flynn who made the grid does not feel like the same Kevin Flynn who broke into ENCOM with his buddies one night and I don’t know how to explain it.

[stargazer4501]

Stragedys: The Seer of Tragedy

Stragedys is the Overlord over the Playwright industry, specifically as a director and writer, and is part of the Theatre Overlords lead by The Puppeteer.

He grew up on a small farm in Doxato, Greece during the late 19th century. During this time, Greece was poor and close to bankruptcy, however, he was a positive face amongst the townspeople.

He was a hard-worker and always lent out a helping hand to those around him. But as much as he liked working, he found great comfort in the words of stories. After he paid the necessities, he would use whatever he had left to gather stories of all kinds and make his own personal makeshift library. However, as the country grew poorer and his allowance grew less, he started to write his own stories to fulfill his dream.

His uncle, who saw his creativity in his stories, was a shipowner and offered to take him on adventures to help inspire him for his stories. However, during one of these adventures, there was a great storm causing both the uncle and the ship to sink to the bottom of the sea. Stragedys was the sole survivor and constantly blames himself for this tragedy. He stopped writing and drowned himself in work and chores.

Then in the early 1910s, the Balkan Wars erupted. He entered these wars willingly, giving all his energy and releasing all his anger on the opponent’s soldiers. He was fierce but reckless; his family pleaded with him to stop and think, but he ignored them. He survived the 1st Balkan War, but wasn’t so lucky during the 2nd Balkan War.

When charging, he got shot several times before being shot in eye, and eventually bleeding out on the field.

After arriving in Hell, he was immediately greeted by The Puppeteer, who has read his stories and watched his struggle during his past life. The Puppeteer offered him a deal, they would bring back the passion he once had for writing, give him dreams and nightmares to inspire new stories for him to write, the ability to create emotion manifestation plays from these stories, the power to turn any of the souls he owns into natural actors for said plays. However, in exchange, his soul is owned by the Puppeteer, having to follow their command when needed. Longing for the days of his stories, and the thought of turning these stories into moving plays, he accepted The Puppeteer’s deal.

He’s definitely more social and outgoing than the other Overlords, much like how he was when he was alive. He tries to get along with everyone, being polite and respectful even towards the rudest individual, but he views The Puppeteer as a god of some sort, praising him for the gifts they bestowed onto them. After the Puppeteer invited Charlie and the gang to watch one of their performances, he met with Charlie and immediately started to flatter her, trying to get her praise for his plays. Even after learning about the Hazbin Hotel, and what Charlie is trying to accomplish at said hotel, he only cares about what goes on at the Theater. He both deeply admires and fears The Puppeteer, doing anything and everything to gain their approval.

Design

His name “Stragedys” is a combination of the Greek word for “Soldier” and Tragedy.

She is around 8ft 5in tall, making him slightly taller than Angel Dust, who’s around 8ft 2in.

He’s a cyclops for a few reasons:

Cyclops are from Greek Mythology.

He lost one of his eyes during the war.

Clyclops are described to be violent and not the brightest, which fits how Stragedys was towards the end of his life.

Regarding the colors, I decided to do more seaweed colors mainly to represent the incident that lost his uncle and his general motivation to write.

He has marks that look like shot wounds on his head, neck, and torso to represent how he died.

The cuffs around his ankles, wrists, and neck act as “shackles” due to being under The Puppeteer’s control.

His eye is actually detachable, and can be used had a weapon. When it pops out, it turns to stone and can be used as a chained wrecking ball.

Here is a basic reference without the clothes and his hair down:

[itzcherrybonbon]

[E.L.A] Drop meets Artemis

[The art and E.L.A Artemis belong to me. E.L.A Drop belongs to @anotherrosesthatfell ]

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"So you're Artemis??"

Drop grinned, excitement filling her crimson eyes. Artemis couldn't help but chuckle, playfully ruffling Drop's hair.

"Yes, that's me. Who might you be?"

"I'm Drop! Palette's little sister!"

"Huh? As far as I'm concerned, Palette doesn't have a little sister..-"

"I'm from the original universe, silly!" Drop pouted "I don't know why I don't exist in this timeline, it's a little sad. But at least I exist in the original!"

"Ah, I see..How is it like in the original timeline?"

"Wellll, not so different from here, to be honest- Except you and some of the people from your timeline don't exist, and Nightmare is pretty mean!"

"Don't exist?.. Why? Where are PJ and Gradient? And Angst?"

"I dunno! I only just found out PJ and Gradient are my half siblings when I met them a while ago, but I have no idea where they are in my timeline- Also, I don't know who Angst is. I've never met a person named "Angst" before-"

"Angst is my big brother, like Crescent!.."

"That stupid priest has another brother??"

"Huh?! Crescent is a priest here?? I- Since when?! God, this is all too much for me to process.."

"Yeah samee..I have so many questions to ask everybody when I get back to my timeline"

"Let's change the subject.."

"Hmm- Oh, do you like my brother??"

"W-WHA- Drop, out of all questions..! Why this-"

"So you doo!! Aww! I'm gonna write it down on my ship list!"

"W-wait what?!"

Artemis tries to protest, a flustered mess- But there was nothing that could possibly change Drop's mind, plus, the secret was already out.

Artemis gives up, sighing in defeat.

.

.

.

"I must congratulate you! You're only 10 years old, yet you managed to create an otome game all on your own! Your hard work has paid off, I love it so far"

"You like otome games??"

"Yeah, some of them have an interesting storyline. I don't have time to play them often, but I have fun when I do! I'm enjoying your game a lot, I really wish it existed in my timeline.."

"Really, it kinda sucks! People are missing out on my best creation! :("

"Mhm..I wonder how things would've been if you existed in our timeline too. PJ and Gradient already adore you!"

"Probably nothing much would've changed..I do think you're the better sidekick, big brother is happier around you"

"Aw..Drop, don't say that. I'm 100% sure Palette is happy to have you as his sidekick, you must be doing your best"

"But it's not enough.."

"You're trying, it's the thought that matters. You care for your brother, and you chose to believe and help him as best as you can. If I was Palette, that'd be more than enough for me!" Artemis smiled at Drop, reassuring the younger.

"You really think so?"

"No, I know so. You shouldn't doubt yourself, Drop..You and your brother should stay determined, I know you've got it in you"

"Now I understand why your Palette adores you so much- GODDAMNIT YOU MADE ME CRY HAPPY TEARSS-"

"Pfft- Don't cry Drop..I'm just trying to keep you motivated"

.

.

.

"What do you think of Merciful?? He's my prince!"

"Your prince?.."

"Yeah! He is really handsome, and super nice to me!"

"Ugh..You actually like that two faced bastard? Not only is he 10 years older than you, but he's a hopeless person, really. Just Lux's dog. Nothing more, nothing less. Trust me when I say he's not for you. Plus, don't forget the big age gap."

"Well too bad! We're going to get married when I become a-"

"Absolutely not! Drop, hun, you're sweet but- PLEASE don't do something you're going to regret in the future- There are plenty of people out there your age. God..who taught you these things?? What the hell.. "

.

.

.

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

I gave up.

For this reason, I might do a part two. MIGHT.

-Cherry,out