#i'm not abandoning the story

[soaps-mohawk]

okay so firstly, I do have to say, it is your blog, you can do whatever you want, blah blah blah moving on

Secondly, I'd like to point out that professional writers usually take breaks between books as well. in my opinion, the first "book" of CRCB either ended after omega was rescued or will end after this next chapter depending on how long the story ends up being (I'm basing this totally off vibes btw pls don't take me seriously I beg)

that being said, you're doing this for free. FREE. if professional writers (who are paid to write) can take breaks, so the FUCK can you. the story you're creating is amazing and incredible, and while I (and probably everyone else who reads it) appreciates the regular updates, we also understand that you're a human, not a living typewriter.

take a break. please, God, take a break. focus on kyletober, or other fics, or even just go on a full writing hiatus if you need. but please, take care of yourself first. we can wait. we'll be fine. there's other authors and fics in the meantime.

Thank you, love 💚

That is true, even professional writers take breaks (I mean GRRM has taken like what more than ten years for the next ISOIAF book? Looking at you George...)

I do think this is a place where it would split into the next fic, if I was going to do things that way. There's still quite a bit to get through, even though we've kind of already had the big climax for at least that bit. So yeah, you're right that this would be the end of the first book so to speak lol.

And yeah, that's a good thing to remember. I do this mostly for free (not counting Patreon). It's a hobby and I do have a life outside of this hobby that I have to attend to that matters more than the fic and the blog and everything. I have a job because I have to have money to survive and I have appointments and friends and other things I like to do. While I've been blessed for a good chunk of the year to be able to focus a lot of time on this blog and this fic, it's just not possible anymore. At least for the time being. Come January and the end of the holiday season and as my job kind of winds down, then yeah. I'll probably be able to focus more energy on the fic and the blog again, but for now, I have to take a break.

It's not even just real life that's getting in the way, I'm burning out on the fic too. I've put out over 300k words in about eight months with weekly updates. That's a lot. That's on average almost 10k words a week counting this next chapter. It's hard to write 10k words in a single week. Chapters are starting to get hard to write and I'm finding myself excited that I'm taking a break and won't have to worry about writing the next chapter, so yeah. It's time for a little break from CRCB to let my mind focus somewhere else (I'm so hyped for Kyletober y'all have no idea) and refill those creative juices towards CRCB.

But thank you for being so understanding. Really. It's so reassuring to see everyone being so supportive. And it's not like i'm not going to be writing during this time, I'm just focusing my energy elsewhere for a bit to give myself a much needed break. 💚

[dyleeart]

How s4ep11 should have ended

[canisalbus]

Sobbing over Machete, who can only be seen smiling in one part of the growing up compilation, as a wee little lad.

Sobbing over the face that he was a toddler in that part, a child who had yet to be separated from his family or know the abuse of his "teacher," who only knew the joys of cute snails and holding his favorite pet chicken.

It seems like all of his issues were compounded after his family left him :(

It is what it is. Considering the cards he was dealt, he managed to play his hand pretty well, I think. I've been mulling over this a bit lately, and I'd go as far as to say that in the eyes of his contemporaries, his childhood probably wouldn't even have been unusually unhappy or unfortunate. By most metrics he was a wildly successful individual.

Historically speaking, child abandonment has been more widespread than a modern day person might initially think.

(source)

I'd also like to believe that his parents meant well and the decision to give him up wasn't an easy one. They were going through an impossibly tight squeeze of financial and emotional hardship, and Machete, the youngest child, was constantly sick with mystery illnesses they didn't know how to deal with (anemia + weakened immunity system being the main cause for most of them). Rather than having the entire family suffer and starve, they arranged to have him be left at a monastery, hoping to give him a fighting chance to survive.

If there's a silver lining to it, it was a immense stroke of luck he ended up somewhere where he was looked after (monks were known to have better understanding and access to medicine than commoners). Moreover, he was also taught to read, a rare and priced skill at the time, which ultimately enabled him to claw his way into the upper echelons of the society. Not only did he survive, he prevailed against all odds.

Machete himself probably has mixed feelings about his childhood. He doesn't like to think about it, and (like most people) doesn't realize or admit the extent it affected him. His parents only exist on some conceptual, untouchable level to him, and I don't think he has any desire to try to find out who they were and if they're still alive. He might harbor some repressed, aimless and faceless resentment for them for deciding to wash their hands of him for a reason for another. Maybe it's the root of his inferiority complex and persistent sense of inadequacy, knowing there must've been something wrong with him for that to happen. But then again, it's hard to truly miss something or someone you don't have a personal connection to, or any memories about. In the end, he wasn't worth their time then and they're not worth his time now.

He can recall some of his time in the monastery and it was mostly a pleasantly uneventful existence, filled with strict but soothing routines and a sense of community. His mentor (father-figure, whether he likes it or not) was a cold and brutish man who disciplined him harshly. His relationship with him is tense and inflamed, but he realizes he wouldn't have gotten as far as he did without his tutelage, connections and patronage. If he hadn't sponsored his studies in Venice, he would've never crossed paths with Vasco either.

[jasonsbruce]

[ranchstoryblog]

Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

luthien and elwing telling beren and earendil respectively that whatever danger they must undergo will be taken upon themselves also... luthien going with beren beyond the circles of the world, earendil staying with elwing within the bounds of arda... beren and luthien vanishing from anywhere and anyone in middle-earth, earendil's star shining in the night sky for everywhere and everyone in middle-earth as elwing soars up to greet him... beren and luthien's tale being told by aragorn, the light of earendil's star being gathered and given to frodo... the romance of it all...

[front-facing-pokemon]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Welcome to Coffin city. What could possibly go wrong here?

[First] Prev <--> Next

[ladylynse]

'Write something of a sequel' won the poll, so people can drop the names of fics they'd like to see that 'something of a sequel' for the next poll.

(Apologies to all the folks who just want me to update my WIPs instead of writing something else.)

[tadbitsketch]

y'all we need to talk more about beta jesse's design bc

he's such a goober y'all

[spaghetticat3899]

When you absolutely despise something a lot of people like, and no matter what way you look at it you cannot see the appeal, but you know you can’t talk about it in public or else you’ll get dogpiled to hell and back, so you just kinda sit there frothing at the mouth like this

[mrs-gauche]

IT'S OCTOBER!!!!

I have no idea what's happening out there, I'm living in this isolated semi offline bubble to avoid spoilers and it's killing me, but WE'LL BE PLAYING THE NEXT DRAGON AGE *THIS* MONTH. AFTER TEN. WHOLE. YEARS. HOW FUCKING CRAZY IS THAT. IT STILL DOESN'T FEEL REEEAL.

[delphianactuallydoodling]

Salome, Herodias and the head of John the Baptist (wip, 2024) | Judith and the head of Holofernes (wip, 2024)

[gingermintpepper]

I know everyone knows the story of Actaeon and how he met a terrible fate by stumbling upon Artemis bathing in her forest but did you know that Actaeon was Apollo's grandson? That his father was Aristaeus, lord of the bees and the rustic arts and his mother was Autonoe, daughter of Cadmus and princess of Thebes?

Did you know he was trained by Chiron? That he was considered a hunter so skilled his talent was considered divine, that he was his parents' only child and that he was loved?

Did you know the grief that consumed the household when word of Actaeon's fate reached them? That Cadmus cut his hair, that Harmonia wept and was disconsolate and that his parents... well, Autonoe walked the length of the forest, keeping a sharp eye out for her son, but all she saw were the scattered bones of a fawn. Aristaeus too, had heard his son was torn apart and so fruitlessly, foolishly searched for the bones of a man. (There was none to be found)

Did you know that it was Actaeon's ghost, unhappy and unburied, trapped on the earth, who leaned over his sleeping father and told him of his fate? "You will not find me as you knew me, gather me as a stag." And Aristaeus immediately woke his wife and told her the truth, and together they grieved all the night long.

(Did you know that this is why Aristaeus abandons Boeotia? He could not stand the sight of it and so he went to Ceos. And there he slayed the dog-star. And there he became a healing wind. All in the name of his only son, that foolish, beloved Actaeon.)

[butmakeitgayblog]

which fic of yours started out as a silly quick piece then just blew up?

Fucking all of them

[gloomyteddybear]

why framing matters

oneshot

cw/tw: it's more of an attempt at blackmail than anything, small-town typical 'tudes, it is now canon that 'prey! ghost popped a boner! also, homestuck ashen quadrants in a non-homestuck FF yay! and they kiss in the end!

i got the brainworms rn. straight up researching dialects for a fictinal american man written by canadians. then i remembered the bastard moved around a lot so he prolly picked up some new words

n-knee-way. continuation of 'prey!, this time MC's pov!

the two main things about small towns is that 1: everyone knows somebody. there's few enough people to share your attention to without spreading it too thin, at the very least remember their face enough to feel sympathy. so if they die it hits hard; fewer people means that the odds are higher, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

in small towns you are 1 in a 1000, while in cities the odds are rarer 1-100.000. in a such a cramped town where everyone knows everyone, to do that is either a sign that they're stupid, have an accomplice or a real attention seeker.

and 2: word travels fast; specially if it is a tragedy, gossip is like rotten carrion for the vultures--- specially reporters and journalists. however, theres a instinctual hesitation to point fingers, 'they'd never hurt a fly' can only do so much to quell distrust. yes, they'd never say you did it, still treating you like they always did, defending your innocence and sweeping accusations under the rug--- but there's still that way some people look at you, the boat rockers to be precise. they'd never say it to your face, thanks to your friends, but they know.

i-told-you-so's already curled in their tongue like trying to hide a bullet on open-not-hiding-anything hands, the anticipation made them dangerous, you just knew. the way one wrong step is all it takes--- how a frightened deer might dash its brains against a tree in the scramble to flee a predator; or worse, trigger fingers on cowards that'd flinch a 'ready, go!'-shot on the air and begin the racing stampede. mass-hysteria herd-mentality. 

your friends-acquaintances-neighbors they'd rather deny on one's guilt, at least until the truths staring straight at them... unless one's an outsider. you were born an outsider, sure you were conceived and raised here. but you'd never fit in.

but, jed, meek door-mat who was not even here for a fraction of your lifetime was accepted with open arms.

ain't that unfair? 

a boring, condescendingly soft-spoken man with one of those 'aren’t i so charming and genuine, please like me’ smiles already curling his lips, they don't know him like they knew you. he had time to perfect the act. he's a novelty-clean slate of a man.

you muttered to yourself, "what can you do? you win some, you lose some,” you shrugged in consolation, "life’s fair like that.” you clean the counter harder.

it's not his fault, rationally you know it. somebody's gotta win somebody's gotta lose. he's not the one that put the cheese in the maze, it's these 'small town neighbors' types that pinned you two against eachother (although, you admit, the bitterness is rather one-sided). you're not a sore loser--- but this...you're already on thin ice, this could shatter it. this is what it feels to come second. without the damn cheese you'd starve---but it's fine. could be worse.

so. jed-one, you-zero

then, worse comes. some nosy ghost thinks he can waltz into your special little picnic, the same ghost who've been making tensions run high with paranoia. it's already bad enough without all the pointing fingers.

but you choked him, he was smart-dumb about it. dumb in the way he stayed down and didn't react when you did, let you take your anger out on him or at least until you lose interest, you could've killed him. but smart enough to know that defending himself would make it worse. like encountering a moose or a bear. you'd crush his skull.

he popped a fear-boner. you think. maybe an actual arousal boner, that's why he groped the tiny-thin bones of your wrist instead of breaking them. and destroy the grass. that too. you judge only a bit--- figures, serial killers aren't the most well adjusted people in the world. and one with that type of crime-scenes, probably has some psychosexual issues going on.

he bumbled away from your grasp like a fresh-born fawn after. he needed-deserved that win. ghost: one, you: zero. ugh. but it was by the goodness of your heart.

a 'ring!' on the door-chime and a hoarse "hey, sorry hi." brings an end to your musings and delivers jed, who waltzes in when you're about to close for the night. sporting a shiny new turtleneck that you just know these damn granny's drool over.

jed notices you staring at the new fashion statement, he smiled self-deprecatively "i look way-too-much like a churchy in my sunday best, don't i?"

he could see the white of your eyes from all the glaring.

he winced, pursing his lips like he ate something sour "sorry- like, i also have a graveyard if that makes you feel better?" he smiles winsomely, like the brownosed lapdog he is

he makes his order and smiles, you almost stop yourself from slamming it on the counter "sorry again." he slips a crushed bill out of his messenger bag and doesn't stay for you to give him his change, at least he tips well.

when you finish closing down for the night, locking the back-door, jed was hanging out by the back entrance.

you already knew, despite his doormat demeanor he was just like you. dead eyes. he at least had the 'decency' to hide his horns.

but that didn't mean you couldn't pretend that you didn't--- act startled and hit him in your 'surprise', as a treat. it should at least cut down the sneaking-up-on behaviour straight from the bud. you're not going to encourage that kind of stuff, specially since your latest voyeur probably managed to get enough to blackmail you (but for some odd reason, despite his reputation---he didn't use it, yet.)

you swung.

you: one. jed: one. tie.

"oh fuck..." he breathlessly mutters, cradling his bloodied nose.

"jed!" you fake a gasp. and trotted towards him, fussing over him with the hem of your clothes to staunch the bleesing. not broken, good.

"there we go, it hurts still right? but don't you feel better without all that blood on your face?" you coo like you’re soothing a startled wild animal. the same way hunters soothe a rabbit in a trap, clicking their tongue and making soft, gentle sounds until they can get a good angle at it's neck. 

and that's what you did.

he sags, as if all the fight leaves his body, in that oh-so familiar way--- you'd wave it off as a fear response (fight, flight, freeze, fawn, flop), but... it scratches at a very lovely-fresh memory, raw, still. pink and new--- shoes skidding backwards to slam himself against the harsh textured wall, making you pin him down like a tack in a conspiracy-board. he fumbles around his torso- one hand still at your wrist, padding for the strap on his shoulder.

he manages to overturn his messenger bag, scattering polaroids all over the concrete. it's you!

not you red-handed during the act of burial (it makes you reconsider his identity again). but still some... not incriminating but definitely putting the last nail on line of nails on the iceberg--- just a small knock with a hammer, is enough to split that down the middle (these metaphors are getting worse and worse)--- you wont get arrested but people will take matters into their own hands.

not fully un-rightfully. because-yes, you're a serial killer, but also no: you didn't kill those guys, so you would probably get vigilante'd for the sins of- and as the ghostface.

still enough to be usable as blackmail, a tiebreaker.

you falter, and he takes the opportunity to use the gap in your hands to breathe. “do it.” he gasps.

did he want to die? "dont worry, it'll all be over soon."

"don't. want it to last." ah, no, masochism. damn, what do they feed these journalists? maybe the jokes about their tendency to get into trouble was right.

red-blue-magenta-mix lights creeps-in near the alley like the neon-sign of a shitty night club--- as if you could get burned, you instinctively press closer against that cramped little corner in the alleyway, squeezing in like you're trying to get a spot in the dark. a patrol car. not immediate danger but definitely bad. 

this was timed way too right, planned. he probably memorized their route like the chess-player he is.

you're not playing chess, though. you always preferred social-deduction games instead, the one where cheating people and lying is encouraged. the dirtiest trick of them all, you kiss him softly on the lips for good luck. you never said you were below underhanded tactics.

"don't do this to me." he growled.

you smiled, squeezed tighter until his eyes got all sleepy, and he passes out.

you run. as un-incriminating these photos of you are, these probably incriminate him instead.

your win. 

ghost-jed: two. you: two

you're evenly matched, joy, you have a playmate.