#profitable content

[madhukumarc]

Is content creation profitable?

Yes, content creation can be highly profitable if done right. In today's digital age, where information is constantly being consumed online, the demand for high-quality content is at an all-time high.

Whether you are a blogger, a freelance writer, a marketer, an entrepreneur, or a business owner, creating valuable content can open up a world of opportunities for you.

I'd like to dig deeper to give you more information.

Do you know? - “85% of marketers believe generative AI will have a transformative impact on content creation in 2024” - HubSpot’s 2024 State of Marketing Report

Profitable Content Creation:

1. First and foremost, content creation allows you to establish yourself as an authority in your niche.

By consistently providing valuable and informative content, you can build trust and credibility with your audience.

This can lead to increased brand recognition and customer loyalty, which ultimately translates into more sales and revenue for your business.

2. Moreover, content creation is a crucial component of any successful digital marketing strategy.

Search engines like Google love fresh and relevant content, and they reward websites that consistently produce high-quality content with higher rankings in search results.

This means that by creating valuable content, you can attract more organic traffic (free traffic) to your website, which can result in increased visibility and potential customers.

“SEO requires an investment in content creation and optimization” – Conductor

But how exactly can you monetize your content?

There are several ways to do so.

3. One of the most popular methods is through advertising revenue.

If you have a blog or a website with a significant amount of traffic, you can partner with ad networks like Google AdSense, Mediavine, Ezoic, AdThrive, or Revcontent and display ads on your site.

You earn money every time a visitor clicks on an ad or views it.

4. Another way to monetize your content is through sponsored posts or product reviews.

As you gain influence and a strong following, brands may approach you to collaborate on sponsored content.

This could involve writing a blog post or creating a video that promotes their product or service. In return, you receive compensation from the brand.

5. Additionally, content creation can also lead to opportunities for speaking engagements, consulting gigs, and even book deals.

When you establish yourself as an expert in your field through your content, people will naturally be drawn to your expertise and may seek out your services or invite you to share your knowledge at conferences or events.

Are you aware? - “Content creation should center around user inquiries, incorporating clear language, relevant keywords, and aligning with semantic search trends” – Moz

6. Have video content creation skills? Yes, it allows individuals to create engaging and valuable content for platforms like YouTube, social media, and online courses.

This can lead to opportunities for ad revenue, sponsored content, affiliate marketing, product sales, and brand partnerships, making it a lucrative skill set.

7. Last, but not least, content creation can also be profitable if you take advantage of affiliate marketing.

Produce valuable content that includes affiliate links to products or services you promote.

When audiences click on these links while following content, and eventually make a purchase, you earn a commission, which can sometimes be a recurring opportunity or for a lifetime.

“By analyzing customer behavior, preferences and interactions, you can more precisely target and personalize content creation for your audience” – MarTech

On Becoming a Content Creator or Doing Content Creation:

In conclusion, content creation has the potential to be highly profitable.

However, it's important to remember that success in this field requires dedication, consistency, and a deep understanding of your target audience.

By creating valuable and engaging content that resonates with your audience, you can leverage the power of it to grow your brand or business and generate significant profits.

Here's related information that you may also find helpful – Affiliate Marketing vs YouTube Channel

[teacupsandcyanide]

Something I miss from earlier eras of the creative side of the internet was things just being unabashedly low-budget. Just all unashamedly amateur, unprofessional, ‘I don’t own a good camera but I have a story to tell you’, ‘I can’t afford a good mic but I have a song to sing for you,’ ‘I don’t have any kind of background in editing or lighting and I only just picked up this guitar last Tuesday but here’s an entire musical me and my friends wrote about our favourite book, we filmed it on a potato and put it up on YouTube in ten minute segments because we thought it was pretty funny.’

[otrtbs]

btw people keep taking fanfic and selling it on amazon and etsy and the likes because people are buying it. stop buying fanfiction.

[blueskittlesart]

hey actually i do feel like i should make this post because people are so often surprised when I mention that my instagram is monetized. any business account (you can tell that it's a business account because the bio has a subtitle labeling the type of business they are) that has over 10k followers on instagram is eligible for reels monetization and any account with over 15k is eligible for post monetization. There is no requirement to disclose whether or not any given post is monetized, and every post is monetized by default when you opt-in to monetization. be cognizant of what you see and what you like. the payout system is engagement-based and rewards ragebait and engagement farming. and if you are a small artist or content creator, DO NOT let large business accounts repost your work without compensation. they are making money off of you and hoping you won't notice.

[deoidesign]

I hate you social media. I hate you "content creation" I hate you algorithms I hate you ideal posting times I hate you posting 5 times a day I hate you unavoidable engagement statistics. I hate you art advice that's to simplify, consider how well it will sell, make it a product, get on trends, trends trends trends! I hate the advice to go viral!

I'm sick of the grind I'm sick of "content creation" I'm sick of side hustles and small business! I'm sick of being profitable!!! I just want to post my art and talk to people about art!!!!!!!!!!!

[tippenfunkaport]

That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.

Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."

The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.

And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?

[genericpuff]

Webtoons Is Making Moves - So Should You.

We all saw it coming ages ago and now it's finally here. There's no more beating around the bush or doubting if anyone is "reading into it too much", Webtoons' use of AI in its more recent webtoons is not an accident, not an oversight, but by design, it always has been. And I guaran-fucking-tee you that the work that already exists on the platform won't be safe from Webtoons' upcoming AI integration through scraping and data mining. Sure, they can say they're not gonna replace human creators, but that doesn't change the fact that AI tools, in their current form, can't feasibly exist without stealing from pre-existing content.

Plus, as someone who's tested their AI coloring tools specifically... they're a long, LONG way away from actually being useful. Like, good luck using them for any comic style that isn't Korean manwha featuring predominantly white characters with small heads and comically long legs. And if they do manage to get their AI tools to incorporate more art styles and wider ranges of character identities... again, what do you think it's been trained on?

Also, as an added bit that I found very funny:

Um, I'm sorry, what fucking year is it? Because platforms like WT and Tapas have both been saying this for years but we're obviously seeing them backpedal on that now with the implementation of in-house publishing programs like Unscrolled which have reinvented the wheel of taking digital webtoons and going gasp physical! It's almost like the platform has learned that there's no sustainable profit to be had in digital comics alone without the help of supplementary streams of income and is now trying to act like they've invented physical book publishing!

"The future of comic publishing, including manga, will be digital"??? My brother in christ, Shonen Jump has been exclusively digital since 2012! What rock have the WT's staff been living under that they're trying to sell digital comics as the "future" to North Americans as if we haven't already been living in that future for over ten years now?? We've had an entire generation of children raised on that same digital media since then! This isn't the selling point you think it is LMAO If anything, the digital media market here in NA is dying thanks to the enshittification of digital content platorms like Netflix, Disney+, and mainstream social media platforms! That "future" is not only already both the past and present, but is swiftly on its way out! Pack it up and go home, you missed the bus!

Literally so much of WT's IPO pitch is just a deadass grift full of corporate buzzwords and empty promises. They're trying so hard to convince people that their business model is infinitely profitable... but if it were, why do they need the public's money? And where are all those profits for the creators who are being exploited day after day to fill their platform with content? Why are so many creators still struggling to pay their bills if the company has this much potential for profit?

Ultimately even their promised AI tools don't ensure profit, they ensure cutting expenses. The extra money they hope to make isn't gonna come from their content generating income, it's gonna come from normal people forking over their money in the hopes that it'll be turned around, and from Webtoons cheapening the medium even further until it's nothing but conveyer belt gruel. Sure, "making more than you spend" is the base definition of "profit", but can we really call it that when it's through the means of gutting features, retiring support programs, letting go editing staff, and limiting resources for their own hired freelancers who are the only reason they even have content to begin with? That's not sustainable profit or growth, that's fighting the tide which can and will carry them away at any moment.

I'm low key calling it now, a year or two from today we're gonna be seeing massive lawsuits and calls to action from the people who invested their money into WT and subsequently lost it into the black hole that is WT's "business model". This is a company that's been operating in the red for years, what about becoming an IPO is gonna make them "profitable"? Let alone profitable enough to pay back their investors in the spades they're expecting? The platform and its app are already shit and they're about to become even worse, we are literally watching this company circle the drain in the modern day's ever-ongoing race to the bottom, enshittification in motion, but they're trying to convince us all the same that they're "innovating".

Webtoons doesn't want to invest in its creators. We as creators need to stop investing in them.

[neechees]

I was trying to find this Tolkien fan film that I had previously never heard of, and I found its old social media accounts & the social media accounts of the director (he's working on a tv show now, good for him), and even an interview with a Middle Earth fan site, but I can't find the actual film itself anywhere. The director seems pretty legit, all the promo photos looked very real and very well done, so I'm wondering if I can't find it because the Tolkien estate nuking it

[corviiids]

god i need to start doing youtube or something so that if a post blows up i can get money instead of what i get on twitter which is inconvenienced

[sisididis]

“Je me souviens / Que né sous le lys / Je croîs sous la rose.”

[I remember / That born under the lily / I grow under the rose.]

- Official motto of Quebec

Inspired by @historia-vitae-magistras' beautiful and heart-wrenching stories about Matt and his two fathers.

The first panel shows Francis holding baby Mathieu, who remained under his tutelage until 1763, the end of the Seven Years War. Canada grew under the “English rose” until the 20th century, when it relinquished most of its dependence on the British Empire. 

The second panel shows Arthur kneeling before a young Matt and offering him a rose. In the next panels, Matt pricks his finger on the rose’s thorns. The thorns can be a metaphor for all the wars Canada had fought in for the empire. 

Eventually, the droplets of blood morph into the red maple leaves, Canada’s national symbol, suggesting that Canada has grown into his own. 

References: (1) Turquoise suit (2) Simplified red coat uniform

[the-one-that-weeps]

Okay I'm so incredibly sorry for this but....

Let me talk about the Rui empty eye trained card phenomenon and why i've been studying it for years

As in how it's the weirdest thing colorpalet has done, weither or not this has any story meaning ig we'll have to see :')

This phenomenon describes how Rui is the only OC that isn't related to 25ji (and even for 25ji only Mizuki and Mafuyu have had this) that has had empty eyes in a trained card in his own event (even worse it happened Twice.).

The first incident was in Curtain Call, now while in the non transparent version there is some lighting his eyes do not have any highlights of their own. This can be seen in the transparent version where Rui's eyes are empty (the issue of transparent versions of cards will become apparent soon and I will discuss it later).

The second incident happened in Cyberpunk Deadboy...this time there is no real question about it it's just straight up empty eyes.

There is also the transparent version of Rui's detective set card which has empty eyes but since the non transparent version has highlights I've decided to not count it.

Now the weirdness of this phenomenon is made clear when you compare it to Literally Every Single Card in the Game.

And since I'm a normal person with normal hobbies and normal amount of free time, I've searched for literally any card to follows this issue Rui has.

The results however are staggering.

There are only few cards that come close to Rui's treatment and even then most are from mixed or are basically reaching.

-Akito's untrained from LUTF is probably the closest to an exception we have however Akito's eyes are shaded in a way that still shows light in his eyes.

-Emu's halloween trained is a weird one ?? The eyes are extremely stylised to make her spooky so it doesn't rlly end up looking like empty eyes at all though there are no traditional highlights. You could argue it would be the same for Rui's trained cards then but it's clear the context is wildly different.

-Shiho's Halloween trained card, the transparent version does have empty eyes but the non transparent version has highlights which means it doesn't count.

-Touya's White day card, the non transparent version has no highlights but the transparent version has one, basically same as Shiho but reversed.

Anyways the fact I had to reach this far just to find a counterexemple to the weirdness of how colorpalet has basically given Rui empty eyes in Half Of His Focus Events is pretty telling.

Does this have any meaning towards the story at large ??? No ???? Yes ??????? I genuinely don't know at this point, all I know is that this has taken years off my life.

Hope you have a nice day and apologies for the monstrosity I have left on your doorstep

Demo I'm going to start compiling your analyses and putting them on paper because this is Harvard research level shit I swear. You're the one and true Ruitologist in this fandom /pos /baffled and amazed

That is very interesting indeed... I can fully understand curtain call but as always cpdb set is an anomaly anywhere you look. I don't even know

[kuromi-hoemie]

thank you 🏴‍☠️ streaming site admins for seeing a wave of domains get taken down and stepping up to make more instead of leaving it as is. the harder it's cracked down on and the more gets taken away, the more i refuse to pay for legitimate services. like.. lol. at least TRY to fix the many reasons people turn to piracy or deal with this happening forever idc.

free market mfs when the market decides you're not working out as an option

[laurasbailey]

i know it’s impossible to compare something scripted to something like critical role and i know i often say “no writer’s room could’ve done this” when it comes to cr but imogen is experiencing something so authentic to the sapphic experience and it developed so organically in the same way beau’s experience felt so real and the difference between her feelings for yasha and jester resonated with me in a Deeply Lesbian Way and i just feel that can only be accomplished when the creator, actor and ‘writer' is the same person and story comes before both profit and audience demands and in-character choices are made in the moment just like real life and that’s something tv/film will simply never be able to do

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Ruggie Bucchi

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Ruggie Bucchi

Supporting Roles; Grandma Bucchi, Rho (Ruggie's bird)

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, this can be read as platonic, familial, or romantic, hurt/comfort, I get emotional yet again about Ruggie, stressed reader

Content Warning; Ruggie's backstory (his mom's death and I mention childbirth, but describe nothing), self-doubt (reader), allusions of depression (reader), anxiety attacks (reader)

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put mine - or other creators' - works into AI; that shit steals.

Prologue & Leona's Story | Jack's Story

Ruggie was out with the adults, tagging along to collect honey to bring back to the village. He followed silently behind his grandmother, holding her hand. Ahead of them two birds flew ahead, honeyguides, singing their song to alert the beastmen that there was a hive ahead. A hive full of sweet honey, a rare treat saved for the elderly and the young of the village.

“You see those birds, Ruggie,” his grandmother nodded up to where the birds flew. “Those are honeyguides. Your mother…” The woman paused, taking in a calming breath. It’s been nearly five years since her daughter, her only child, had passed away due to complications from childbirth. Unfortunately, it was common for many first-time hyena beastmen to pass while delivering… and such a fate fell upon her. She shook her head, continuing with her tale. “Your mother, her messenger was a honeyguide.”

Ruggie looked up to his grandmother. “Mama had one of those birds?” He tried whistling the tune of their leading song, but it just came out as raspberries.

His grandmother chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, and oh the trouble those two got into. How do you think I got all this grey hair?” She tugged at a few strands to prove her point. She did their whistle, going slowly so that Ruggie could practice alongside her. “Like this.”

Ruggie eventually got the call down and whistled towards the other adults, and the two honeyguides. “Gramma?” He tugged at her shirt. She looked down and picked him up, putting him up on her shoulders. “Do you think my messenger will be a honeyguide… just like Mama’s?”

She smiled bittersweetly, picturing the rose quartz bird that stood still by the only pictures she had of her daughter. “Hmm, maybe. But that’s for the winds to decide. Regardless though, they’ll bring you great happiness.”

“Gramma?” Ruggie placed his head on top of hers. “What’s your messenger? Did Mama meet her soul match? Did you meet yours?”

The birds stopped, as they arrived at the hive. The adults tasked with smoking the bees out got to their jobs, passing down honey from the rock crevice and putting aside some of the comb for the birds. This harvest looked like it would be enough to feed both the elders and the children, plus some extra left over for the harvesters.

Ruggie’s grandmother hummed to herself. “I think that’s a story for a later time, no? Now come on, try some of this honey, it’s the sweetest I’ve ever had in all my years.”

She never got her messenger. Never had been gifted a soul match by the King of Beasts or the southern winds. And her daughter had met her match, but then he left after her death; her messenger going still after her passing. Leaving the ageing woman all alone, with only a few photos, her daughter’s lifeless messenger, and Ruggie. The person who looked the most like her.

…

The stars twinkled in the night sky, and Ruggie reached his hand out. “Hi, Mama,” he whispered. “I hope you’re doing okay up there in the stars… Tomorrow is my birthday ya know! I’m getting a messenger, just like you did!”

A gentle warm breeze caressed his face, and a shooting star raced against the deep indigo sky. Make a wish. Ruggie clamoured over the window, the breeze playing with his hair. He leaned against the frame, and closed his eyes. “Mama, if you’re up there listening… I wish that you could be my messenger. I know that I never got the chance to meet you, to get to know you, but I want to. I want to get to know you. And I know that you can’t be here, but … I love you, Mama.”

He cracked open his eyes and saw that the entire night sky was filled with shooting stars, a sign of a good omen. The warm breeze tickled his nose before going back out of the window. In the distance, he could hear a lone hyena calling out to its clan, but no one called back. He looked out into the sea of shooting stars and located the star he designated for his mom; an orange star, large, but not super noticeable. A warm amber amongst the darkness of the sky and pale blues of other stars.

He yawned and went back to his bed, clutching on to one of his mom’s old stuffies; a patched up warthog. “Good night, Mama, I love you.” He closed his eyes and was off to the land of dreams.

The light breeze was back, warm and carrying the scent of honey. It carried a small pink crystal bird with it, placing it gently at the foot of the bed, looking after Ruggie’s sleeping form. A honeyguide, much like his own late mother’s. It too being made out of pink crystal, but rhodochrosite, not rose quartz. A crystal meaning compassion, love, comfort, and happiness.

When Ruggie woke up he stared at the bird before cradling it gently to his heart. He walked to his grandmother’s door. “Look, gramma, it’s just like Mama’s!”

His grandmother hugged him, clutching on tightly to his back, tears rolling down her cheeks. Perhaps this life had been cruel to her, but she at least knew that her grandson, her only family, had someone out there. And that maybe, just maybe, her daughter was looking down from the stars smiling and looking out for her son.

…

…

…

Ruggie kept his messenger on him at all times. When he was wearing his dorm uniform, he kept the pink bird on a braided necklace that his grandmother made him for his fifth birthday, using some fabric from one of his mother’s old scarves. Whereas, when he was in the school uniform he kept it in his breast pocket, above his heart. And he would subconsciously check throughout the day to make sure that it was still there, a habit of his. 

It’s been four years, and yet the bird has yet to come to life. But Ruggie didn’t feel bitter, or sad. He knew that life wasn’t fair, he has witnessed that much. He has lived it, experienced that it wasn’t fair. Knew that it was something you could only make the best of. He also knew that he shouldn’t complain. He was thankful that he had at least something to match his mother. A symbol that she was always looking after him. So, even if the messenger never came to life, he could at least have an aspect of his mother. Thankful that there was at least a chance of him having a soul match out there, somewhere.

He hadn’t told his grandmother, as he didn’t want to bring a sense of sadness; had she not gone through enough? The last thing that he wanted to do was to bring more pain to the ageing woman’s heart. He just wanted her to be happy. She had done so much for him, sacrificed so much; the least he could do was give her some hope. That he could bring their family out of poverty. That he could get a well-paying job. That he could find happiness. That she needs not to worry about him. That he would be okay. That they would be okay.

Besides, the new school year was beginning and he was positive that would mean that Leona would give him odd jobs to do. But hey, money is money, and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said gift horse paid him graciously. 

So, Ruggie was busying himself by rearranging his room, placing the few personal belongings that he had in their spots. The photo of him and his grandmother, and next to it, the warthog plush that belonged to his mom. Everything else was hand-me-downs from Leona, or related to schoolwork. The only other personal things he had was the braided necklace, and of course, his messenger. He whistled the honeyguide call to himself, making sure everything was in place. Leona was off at the ceremony, so he basically had the day free to himself. He could probably go off and work some odd errands, but just for today, he would relax.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the wings of the stone bird. “I know you’re out there. I want to find you,” he sighed, holding the bird to his chest. “Let me find you.” He tried to fight off the drowsiness that was taking hold — it wasn’t even nighttime yet — but it won in the end, and he fell asleep.

As the sun set, and the waning moon rose, a warm breeze carried the scent of hibiscus flowers and honey, ruffling his hair. The stone bird tumbled out of Ruggie’s hand, falling gently onto the blankets. The breeze caressed it, and the stone honeyguide ruffled its feathers for the first time. It hopped upright and nestled in the sleeping hyena-beastman’s hair, singing its guiding call softly.

…

Ruggie stretched awake, the room still dark as the sun had not yet woken up for the day. The waning moon, and stars provided the only light, casting the room in blue and silver light. He walked over to the window and looked out, searching for his mom’s star. “Hi mom,” he said to the warm amber star up in the sky. A warm breeze tickled his ears, and he imagined it was her playing with them. “Can you show me a sign?” About my soul match?

Something shifted under the bedsheets, and Ruggie’s ears twitched at the noise. He crept over to the bed, and lifted up the sheet carefully, unsure of what it could be. Underneath the blanket was the stone honeyguide, twitching in its sleep.

His eyes widened, and he carefully scooped up the little bird, cradling it in his hands. After all of these years. After all of the hardships that he has endured. All of the uncertainty. His soul match was here. He took in a sharp breath, trying to control the well of emotions that had sprung forth; that his soul match was alive, and that maybe his mother, and not the King of Beasts, had sent him a sign. That he wouldn’t be alone in this life. But a lone tear traced down the planes of his face, dropping onto the bird.

This is your sign, take it, my love.

…

…

…

You didn’t know what to make of any of this. Being transported into some dimension and waking up in a coffin of all things. That you now live in a decrepit mansion with some cat-monster and ghosts. That magic existed and you had several life-endangering encounters with said magic. And that you now have a small bird made out of pink crystal, and that it was alive. That it could talk.

“You know,” the bird hopped onto your head, “I can’t explain more than you need to be privy to.” Their voice played in your mind, and you tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the tall stack of books about dimensions; trying to find a way home.

You waved a hand around, forcing the bird to take flight, landing on your desk. “I am well aware of that, since you dodge every single one of my questions,” you huff, flipping over the page since it had nothing relevant about your situation. It only said that giraffes were originally demons hailing from the Boiling Isles, wherever that was. This dimension had evil giraffes, but apparently your dimension without magic was far more ludicrous than that. Predictable. “So if you aren’t going to be helpful, just leave me alone. I don’t need your ‘help’.”

The bird gave you a bombastic glare, huffing to itself it went to a small dark brown leather bound journal with the gold insignia of a lion and a hornbill, placing it in front of you. “No need to get snippy with me. Here, read this, it should explain everything you need to know. I can’t do anything else pertaining to your questions now though, know that.” With that, the bird took off through the window, off to who knows where. 

You sighed, but focused on the journal they put in front of you and cracked open the centuries old leather.

Of all the magic there is in Twisted Wonderland, the most coveted, the most revered, is the magic of soul matches. These matches come in many different forms, different for every person. Platonic. Familial. Romantic. Those are the most common. For the merfolk it is a song that only they can hear, their match tugging at their soul. Gifted to them by the benevolence of the Sea Witch. For fae it is yet to be revealed, as they are a secretive lot. Fearing that should anyone outside of their clan know that that information would be used against them. All that is known by outsiders is that they were gifted from the Thorn Fairy, a blessing. As for beastmen, and anyone hailing from the Sunset Savanaclaw, they were gifted bird messengers made from precious stone. It is said the crystal represents what their match will bring to them. And once they feel that they are ready, a glowing path of footsteps will lead them to their match. The birds will dance, and then they will know that they have found each other.

You placed the journal back down, brows creasing. You weren’t from the Sunset Savannah, let alone this dimension in the first place. How on Earth do you have a messenger? Why do you have a messenger? And what did it mean? I’m not ready for this… I don’t think I’ll ever be.

…

…

Ruggie had formed a friendship with his bird, and he even gave her a name; Rho. She doted over him, and her voice was what he imagined his mother’s was like; confident, caring, and warm. And even though he had a friendship with her, he has yet to see the glowing footsteps. He was more than ready to meet them, so it must mean that his soul match, whoever they were, wasn’t. 

“It’s unlike you to dwell on possibilities,” Rho said, landing on his shoulder, returning from one of her daily flights. “Uncertainty clouds your mind, much as the smoke from a brush fire does. Clogging out any possible light from the bright sun that lies beyond the thick smoke.” Rho also happened to be quite poetic and… concerning? But she was sweet, so he ignored the cryptic verses.

Ruggie shook his head, trying to centre his mind. “Hmm? Just thinking is all. Ya don’t need to worry about me, Rho. Shishishi!” But she was right, as his mind tended to go down the more pessimistic path.

What if his soul match was never ready? What if they didn’t want to find him? What if they would reject him after finding out about the cards he was dealt in life? Would they stay by his side as he pulled himself, his family, and his community out of poverty? Would they… would they be like his ‘dad’ and ditch him in hopes of better prospects elsewhere, never to come back? To leave him behind? Leaving him alone to take care of everything, with no one to turn to for support?

Rho sighed, and hopped onto his head, ruffling his hair. “See, uncertainty. A tree cannot grow if it does not receive sunlight. And you cannot grow if you doubt yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, but she was right, as per usual. “Yeah yeah, I know,” he sounded relaxed but he took the words to heart. It’s something his grandma would also tell him, albeit she would get straight to the point. Something like, Quit doubting yourself. You are more than capable. Plus I love ya, and that’s what matters!

But Rho looked unconvinced. “If you want, I can go… persuade their bird to encourage them to meet you.”

“Thought that was against the rules though?” Messengers aren’t allowed to disclose any information that could change their match’s mind on whether they wanted to meet or not. He had no idea why, but it was seen as a big no-no. “Didn’t take you as the rule breaking type.”

Rho flitted down to the windowsill, looking out into the Savanaclaw Dorm exterior. “As long as I don’t let anything slip, it is fine. A gentle nudge if you will. And technically, I am breaking no rules. Just paying a visit to my counterpart to discuss their progress. That is all.”

Ruggie raised a brow, chuckling to himself. “Shishishi, you’re a horrible liar,” he poked her on the nose. “Just don’t get caught, okay?”

Rho nipped at him and took off into flight. “Need not to worry.” She didn’t add her own thought, which was I’m unsure if they will be able to see me or not. It’s been several weeks since they arrived and I’ve seen no sign of them.

…

The bird has persisted to follow you everywhere you went; to all your classes, and you had to kick it out of the washroom on several occasions as well. Everywhere. And they. Would. Not. Shut. Up.

“Hey! Hey! You really need to find them!” They pulled at your uniform, trying to get your attention. “Hellooooo! Are you even listening to me?”

Unfortunately, yes. All you wanted to do was get back home. Yes, you have made friends here. You had fun. But you didn’t belong here, or least, you felt like you didn’t belong. The magicless Prefect from another, magicless, dimension. The closest thing you could even call family here would be Grim, and the three main ghosts who are still tethered to the Ramshackle Dorm. Stuck here without any clear way out, much like you are.

You glared at the bird, looking away from the nth book about different dimensions, still finding dillidy squat. “Yes,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I heard you the first time. But until I find answers, they can wait. They’ve waited this long, I can survive without them.”

The bird plopped itself onto the book, effectively preventing you from reading any further. “Exactly. They’ve waited for this long. They thought that there was no one out there for them. I know that you’re tired; tired of not getting answers. Tired of being treated as less than due to your situation. Tired of not knowing. But know this; there is someone who wants nothing more than to meet you. They don’t care that you don’t have magic. They don’t care that you’re from a different place. They just want to know you.”

That made you pause in your research, hands trembling. They were right. You are exhausted from everything. 

“Now now,” a second voice played in your head, the voice of a woman. But when you looked up you saw another crystal bird, the only thing differing it from yours was that it had more red and white bands. “No need to be nasty. Dear, come now. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”

Unlike your bird, this newcomer was gentle, and didn’t prod you. They hopped forward, wiping a tear from your face. Since when had you started crying? But the few pebbles that were trying to hold together the dam came surging forward, and the new bird comforted you, wiping your tears away.

“Dear, you’ll be okay,” they said, handing you a tissue. “You don’t always have to be strong. There is no weakness in admitting that you need help. That not everything is okay. There is strength in that.”

The flood of emotions, of stress, of anxiety, of being overworked, of being everyone’s therapist calmed down from a raging torrent to a gentle trickle. Taking the tissue you blew your nose. “I don’t feel okay… I’m so,” you took in a choked breath, “tired.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, admitting to the truth. “I’m just so tired. I should be angry, but I’m just so tired.”

The bird put a wing on your face, holding it with care, with love. They had only just met you but have shown so much more kindness and empathy than anyone else during your stay. “Life has not been kind to you,” they said, rubbing grounding circles onto your palms, guiding your breathing. “You deserve to feel wanted. Deserve compassion. To be comforted when the dark clouds seem like they engulf all light. You deserve to be happy.”

“Why are you telling me all this,” you croaked, voice cracking. “I’ve ignored them-”

The pink bird shook their head, “No, you’ve been surviving, and adapting. But if you wish, if you are ready, you can find him.” They hopped back up to the open window, looking at you warmly. A soft breeze played with the ragged curtains, carrying the scent of honey, but also the smell of home. “Will you be alright?”

You rubbed at your nose, still feeling shaky but better. Not feeling like a water balloon about to burst. “I will be.”

The bird nodded, “Should you need anything do call. Your match calls me Rho.” They took flight, heading back to your match. And you could make out the faintest hints of glowing dandelion-yellow footsteps fading into the distance.

…

…

Ruggie had not had much free time for himself, being busy with schoolwork, lessons from Leona, and his normal workload alongside odd jobs to make some extra cash to send home. But even with the hustle and bustle, he had noticed the footsteps. They were faint, sometimes wavering, but they were there. It means that they’re open to meeting him, but not quite sure. Still some doubt in their mind.

“What did you tell them?” He looked up from the dishes he was scrubbing, filling in a shift at the Mostro Lounge.

Rho popped out from his breast pocket, climbing up to his shoulder. “That they aren’t alone. That they will be okay.”

Ruggie felt like there was something heavy in his throat. They feel alone? They aren’t okay? “Rho,” his grip on the plate that he was scrubbing tightened, and he forced himself to release it before he caused cracks. “What did you do? Where are they?”

“Ruggie, they will be okay. I told them words that they needed to hear. Affirming words.” Rho’s voice took on a more stern tone, which made Ruggie back off, but he still worried. “What did we say about dwelling on things outside of our control?”

Ruggie took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and released, calming his mind. “That it’s like the smoke of a brush fire. That beyond the dark smoke, there is sky beyond it, and fresh air… this too will pass.”

Rho let out a guiding call, “Good-”

Ruggie quickly grabbed her and put Rho in his pocket, hearing the door from the kitchen open. He didn’t want someone to walk in and find him ‘talking to air’ and think he was slacking off. “How is everything goin’ on out there?” He got back to scrubbing dishes, covering up that he was previously not.

“Quiet,” you huffed, putting on an apron and coming to stand next to him. “Azul has been trying to butter me up into making a contract with him… again.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “But I reminded him of what happened last time and he left well enough alone.”

Ruggie relaxed, it was just you. “Heyya, Prefect. Long time no see? Decided you were too good for Savanaclaw, huh?” He teased, bumping his shoulder to yours.

You bumped him back. Ever since you had to crash at Savanaclaw, you had formed a friendship with the hyena-beastman. He didn’t hide behind a mask, he was authentic, and that put you at ease. “Pshh,” you swatted at him with a towel, “like you could really get rid of me that easily, gotta come over and bug Leona every now and then. Keep him humble.”

“Pftt,” Ruggie burst out laughing. “Yeah, ‘keep him humble’. Just as long as ya don’t mess with him too much, yeah? Remember, I usually do his work.” There was no bite, and he swatted you back. “These dishes won’t clean themselves, come one, before Azul finds us slackin’ off.”

You quirked a brow but got to work, you would rather do the dishes and make light conversation, or just enjoy the quiet, with Ruggie, than deal with rude customers or being roped into something. So you and Ruggie worked in relative silence, working on getting the large pile of dishes done. The only thing breaking the silence being the distinct whistle Ruggie did quietly.

“Just curious, but what kind of whistle is that?” You put down the large pan you were rinsing off, down to dry, turning to Ruggie.

Ruggie stopped, his left ear twitching. “Ah, it’s just something I picked up when I was younger.” But he could see the curiosity in your eyes, and he decided to humour you. “It’s a honeyguide call, a type of bird. We used to work with them back at home to collect honey.”

Why does it sound so familiar then? Where have I heard it before? “Could you show me how to do it?”

As Ruggie taught you how to make the call, the two of you failed to notice Rho slip out of his pocket, flying up to where your bird rested. “We should just tell them! Look! The footprints are right there! Are they that dense?!” They huffed.

Rho shook her head, “They will do so on their accord. For now, let them be. They’re happy.”

…

…

The footsteps were glowing brightly now, a bright, warm, dandelion yellow. Cheerful, playful, and happy. But you hadn’t followed them yet, doubt still on your mind. Why did someone else get to pick my soul match? Shouldn’t I have a say in this? But every time those doubts came forward, the other pink bird, Rho she said her name was, would come for a visit.

“Good day, Prefect. How are you faring today?” She hopped over to your desk where you had a book about this world open, reading about beastmen and Sunset Savannah cultural practices.

You placed a bookmark on the page you were on, which discussed the caste system. “Doing better. But, Rho?” You held out a finger, and she hopped on. “I’m curious; what kind of bird are you?”

Rho cocked her head, “Ah, I thought you knew. My dear, I am a honeyguide.” She let out a call.

“A honeyguide…” You froze in your seat. It’s a honeyguide call. You knew you had heard that call before, your own messenger waking you up every morning with it. Did that mean… was Ruggie your soul match? The honeyguide. The feeling that everything would work out for the better when you were around Ruggie. He just felt… correct to you. Like home.

You rushed towards the front door, Rho and your own honeyguide clutching onto your uniform for dear life. “AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS YOU CHANGE YOUR HEART?!” Your honeyguide shrieked, falling off.

“Hush you!” Rho scolded, sending off your messenger to find Ruggie. “I take it you connected the dots then? You don’t need to rush, dear.” She said.

You didn’t slow down though, if anything you sped up. “My match is Ruggie, isn’t he?” It was stated like a question, but you knew that it was a statement. “I’ve kept him waiting! Kept him out!” You knew a bit about what Ruggie’s life was like before attending Night Raven College. That fate had seemed to mock him… and you also mocked him unknowingly.

Rho pulled on your ear, pulling you out of your spiral. “You weren’t ready, you cannot and should not blame yourself! You were making the best out of your situation!” This was the first time that Rho had sounded upset.

You stopped your frantic pace, halting in the middle of the hallway. Students passed by, some giving you weird looks, but they continued on their way. But someone stopped, and stepped aside, watching.

“I hurt him!” You shouted, but no one but you, and your match could hear when you spoke to your birds. “Hasn’t he been hurt enough?”

The footsteps were blinding now, he couldn’t be far away.

“Doesn’t he deserve to be happy? Don’t I deserve to be happy?! Why should some long ago king dictate how we should be happy?! We didn’t ask for this! Any of this!” You were heaving, the dam of emotions breaking again, tears rushing down your face in full force. “Rho,” you whispered, “I just want a place to call home. It doesn’t need to be the one I knew. It doesn’t need to be fancy, or elaborate. It doesn’t even need to be a place. He feels like home, where I can rest.”

But Rho wasn’t there anymore, your bird was now on your shoulder, trying to move you forward. “Well, you can’t do that if you just stay there! MOVE!”

You looked up and the footsteps were gone, in front of you was Ruggie with Rho on his shoulder. You hiccupped, be it from crying, the emotions, or the shock that he was right there, within reach. “Did you hear all of that?”

Ruggie nodded, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Rho and your messenger took flight, performing the soul match dance before Rho landed on your shoulder, and your bird landed on Ruggie’s. And they sang the honeyguide call, indicating that there was something sweet ahead.

“Come on,” he took you to an empty classroom, away from prying eyes. “Here, breathe with me. In; one, two, three.” You breathed in as he instructed. “Hold; one, two, three.” You held. “And out; one, two, three.” And you breathed out. “Better?” He caressed the knuckles of your hand gently.

You nodded. “Ruggie, I’m sor-”

He stopped you, smiling. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. What matters most is that we found each other… That we chose each other.”

Fin

Author's Note; I literally cried writing this (I was emotional at the time). Ruggie's story has been in my brain since I put his name on the list for this AU. It has haunted me for weeks. Have had the honeyguide song stuck in my head for years ever since I first heard it on Wild Kratts of all things. My favourite one I've written as of yet; up there with Jade's.

Tag; @leonistic

Link to Masterlist

[sciderman]

How do you feel about the increase in really weird NSFW ads on here (advertising panels that look like sexual encounters, and AI art apps that pride themselves on porn) but will take down NSFW posts from their users, even if it isn't technically sexual.

i hate all social media and it's consistent prioritising the advertisers over the users and the internet simply was a better place before capitalism sunk its hooks into it

[boyfriendunsolved]

the new video was greatly needed if watcher had any hopes of staying afloat. unfortunately, this backpedaling does not change the fact that

1) high production "television quality" content is what they want to make

2) this content is evidently not what people want to watch (even post-apology i'm seeing a lot of people saying they liked bfu better than anything watcher has produced)

again, if they have a clear vision of what they want to make, that's great. but unless there's a market for that content, then it's not going to turn a profit, or break even for that matter. yes, artists deserve to be paid for their work, but art is always bought by people who want and have an interest in said art.

im an artist pursuing my dreams too, but i don't expect people to buy my niche paintings just on the principle that i am an artist creating what i want. if i wanted to make money from this and turn it into a business, i would take commissions and specifically create what other people want. that is what having any kind of artistic job is about, unfortunately.

it's great if what you want to create and what people want to see overlap, but that's not always the case. and i really fear this is the case with watcher and they won't pivot enough to fix any of their problems