#the challenge itself is very very useful to me however

[yujiphoric]

Why I Love Caitlyn, and Why You Hate Her

⚠️ READER DISCRETION: I am not condoning Caitlyn’s actions and behavior, I am simply exploring the depth of her character and explaining what motivated her pursuit of revenge.

There’s no denying the gravity of Caitlyn’s actions as they are unquestionably wrong. However, her character cannot be reduced to these actions alone. This sudden, devastating behavior of hers is shaped by a thread of complex motivations and circumstances, but many choose not to acknowledge this simply because of her elite background. 

Like many others, I initially overlooked the point of the gassing in Zaun, which I think is a crucial thing everyone must first understand before diving into the discourse over Caitlyn's character. 

The Grey, often misunderstood as being used indiscriminately, was strategically deployed against the Chem-Barons to limit collateral damage. Caitlyn chose precision over chaos, targeting those directly responsible for Zaun’s turmoil. Furthermore, Caitlyn didn’t kill the Chem-Barons; she captured them, with net-deploying bullets. While her methods are controversial, they reflect a calculated approach; mischaracterizing her raid as a reckless attack ignores these details.

This isn’t to deny or excuse the fact that Caitlyn did, indeed, gas Zaun. Who’s to say that gas didn’t seep into the streets where innocent Zaunites roamed, harming them in the process? It’s entirely possible that innocents were affected and devastated. However, my brief explanation is only added to gain better perspective over the objectives of the gassing itself.

Now moving on, despite her privileged upbringing, Caitlyn shows a genuine effort to understand and connect with Zaunites. She places her trust in Vi, a Zaunite she’s never met before, to guide her in her search for Silco. Her journey through the undercity opens her eyes to the struggles of its people, challenging her perspective.

In S1E4, when investigating the airship attack, she encounters an undercity resident and reassures him, “I can protect you.” Later in the season, when Vi gets stabbed, Caitlyn encounters someone formerly connected to Vi. He’s grown a distaste over himself due to his appearance, and yet Caitlyn embraces him with compassion and tenderness, as a silent sign of gratitude. Then, she surrenders her cherished firearm—her only means of protection—in return for a healing potion to save Vi. In S1E7, Caitlyn’s heartfelt monologue in her conversation with Ekko perfectly captures her hope and determination: “This city needs healing. More than I ever realized. Please, let me help you.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stand in front of the Council, Caitlyn declares: “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. People are starving, sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.” This monologue alone shows how Caitlyn embodies optimism, believing in the inherent goodness of people, even Zaunites. It also shows that she is very willing to fight for them; she sees helping Zaunites as an act of bringing justice and equality into this world.

Many overlook the depth of Cassandra and Caitlyn’s relationship, reducing it to a simple narrative of a daughter mourning her mother. However, Caitlyn’s mourning is more layered than that. Throughout her life, she has been rebellious, driven by a desire to uncover the reality her mother tried to shield her from. In S1E4, Caitlyn reflects on this by saying, “She’d do anything to keep me from seeing the real world.” Caitlyn’s defiance wasn’t just rebellion for its own sake—it was a stand for her ideals. She sought enlightenment and understanding, even if it meant stepping outside the privileged bubble her mother built for her. By venturing into the undercity and aligning herself with Vi, Caitlyn rejected her mother's own ideals. In a way, her actions mirror Vi’s: just as Vi betrayed her people by working with the enforcers, Caitlyn betrayed her mother by involving herself with Zaunites. Remember: The last time we see Caitlyn and Cassandra interact on-screen is during Caitlyn’s plea before the Council. And in that moment, Caitlyn was fighting to protect the very kind that would soon kill her own mother.

You say that Caitlyn’s drastic shift is unjustified, as she’s only experienced a fraction of the suffering Zaunites have been enduring. But that’s precisely the point! Her transformation shows how personal loss can drive the change of one’s entire character; she’s never experienced loss before which is why it feels so heavy for her. And unlike Zaunites, Caitlyn actually has the power to act on her grief. Zaunites have only known misery their whole lives. When their loved one dies, they know there is nothing more they can do but grieve. They don’t have an inch of the privilege and military support Caitlyn has. If you had given them the same resources as Caitlyn, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring ruin to Piltover. Simply put, they don’t fight Piltovans because they don’t want to, but because they can’t.

When Jinx takes her mother away, her compassionate ideals completely shatter. Having always sought justice and understanding for Zaun, Caitlyn feels deeply betrayed, as her faith in the good within every Zaunite is overturned. Her mother’s death becomes a turning point—driving her to abandon her ideals and adopt Piltover’s disdain for the undercity, finally understanding the resentment many Piltovans harbor.

We also tend to forget that, aside from losing her mother, Caitlyn has directly suffered under the hands of Jinx. Caitlyn was held captive by Jinx in Season 1—and God knows what was done to her during that period. In the dinner scene, we see Caitlyn break down in tears, visibly flinching when Jinx moves toward her. It’s clear that Jinx has traumatized Caitlyn not just once, but twice. These experiences deeply shape Caitlyn’s actions moving forward. The pain and fear she’s endured push her to a place where she’s willing to sacrifice almost anything, even if it means putting a child’s life at risk (Isha's) or severing ties with Vi.

While they share their differences, Caitlyn and Jinx are the perfect example of foil characters. Here’s an instance which proves this: Both allow themselves to be influenced by manipulative, powerful figures all while being in a vulnerable state of mind.

Jinx is haunted by guilt; her attempt to save her family only ended up killing them, leaving her with the crushing weight of self-blame. She clings to Silco, not because he was the father she needed, but because he was the father she wanted. Silco indulged her destructive tendencies, keeping her at an all-time high on the edges of chaos. Fragile and broken, Powder crossed paths with Silco at the right moment; he saw the perfect chance to mold her into someone bewildered, unrestrained, and astray.

Caitlyn has her own Silco: Ambessa, the ruthless Noxian leader with a brutal philosophy of war. Ambessa enters Caitlyn’s life at a pivotal moment, stepping in just as Caitlyn is grappling with the devastating loss of her mother. In a spiral of self-identity, Caitlyn struggles with the weight of Piltover’s expectations and her unresolved guilt over her strained relationship with her mother (as explained in previous paragraphs). Just as young Powder mourns her family, Caitlyn blames herself for the death of her mother. Caitlyn got herself involved with the Zaunites even when she was warned not to, and at the expense of her defiance came the death of her mother. Driven by guilt and a thirst for vengeance, Caitlyn steps fully into her role, declaring in S2E1: “I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman.”

Jinx and Caitlyn share a tragic parallel: they both lose everyone they hold dear. Jinx loses Vi, Vander, Claggor, and Mylo. Caitlyn is left without Cassandra, Vi, Jayce, Mel, and Tobias. Stripped of their support systems, they are left isolated, with no one to confide in or rely on. They become vulnerable, used as pawns in the larger schemes of Silco and Ambessa’s strategic games.

Caitlyn's inner turmoil is exactly why Ambessa’s manipulation is so effective. Caitlyn is compelled to take revenge, but she doesn’t know how to. And without anyone else to guide her, she places her complete trust in Ambessa's expertise. Ambessa doesn’t just give Caitlyn the authority and power to avenge her mother; she teaches her how to use them to their full potential. She toys with Caitlyn's vulnerability, making her adopt the Noxian values of wrath, bloodshed, and ruthlessness. 

It’s easy to downplay Caitlyn’s grief since she comes from an elite upbringing. While Cassandra Kiramman is laid to rest in a golden casket with a proper burial, countless innocents in Zaun become victims of merciless violence, being left to die on the streets. After the timeskip however, Caitlyn is shown to recognize the moral cost of her actions. Though the series portrays this realization subtly, it becomes evident that Caitlyn is grappling with the inhumanity and immorality of her pursuit of revenge. In S2E4, this internal conflict comes to light during her conversation with Ambessa. When Ambessa attempts to stoke her fury again, Caitlyn disarms her with a piercing question: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?”

Here's another scene that subtly depicts her realization and remorse:

Caitlyn: You're a monster. Why? Why do all this? Singed: Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? ... For love.

When Caitlyn steps further and sees Orianna, she realizes that Singed's revenge is a reflection of her own: a person grieving the death of their family member. Here, there's a saddened glint in her eyes. She finally understands now, that love and grief made her do things that once seemed so foreign to her. In this case, going against her own principles just to succeed in her revenge.

Caitlyn is now forever haunted by the outcome of her mistakes, but she knows her past cannot be erased. During her confrontation with Jinx in the prison, she admits, “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” While this statement is directed at Jinx, it feels like Caitlyn also holds this against herself for her wrongdoings. 

Caitlyn’s acts of atonement are done quietly. She’s not good with words; she’s bad at articulating how she feels. Ironically, Vi is much better than Caitlyn when it comes to confronting and vocalizing internal conflict. So instead, Caitlyn’s actions speak for herself. By removing the guards at the prison, she tacitly allows Vi the opportunity to rescue Jinx. She knows Vi will come to save her sister, and yet she lets her. She finally lets go of Jinx and the grudge she held against her, as a silent act of her love for Vi.

And in S2E9, Sevika is shown to be sitting among the Councilors. But thanks to a fan's keen eyes, we find out that she is sat particularly on Cassandra Kiramman's chair (which not many notice). By allowing a Zaunite to occupy her mother's seat, Caitlyn gives them a chance to be rightfully represented, a chance for their voices and suffering to finally be heard. It’s a quiet display of Caitlyn’s evolution and willingness to bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun.

That said, Arcane’s ending left much to be desired regarding Caitlyn’s arc. The heavy focus on Hextech overshadowed the sociopolitical dynamics of Piltover and Zaun. This is the main reason a lot of hate is thrown toward Caitlyn—there is an act of accountability, but there a lack of consequence. While Caitlyn acknowledges her mistakes, her privileged status keeps her from real repercussions, unlike the tragedy other characters had to face. This is frustrating, even to me, as someone whose favorite character is Caitlyn. Yet, in a way, it realistically portrays the inequalities in our own world—where the elite are often shielded from justice, and repentance is the closest they ever come to redemption.

[herbertwest]

It's time for NaNoWriMo, and in my usual tradition I stayed up too late so I could get started right after midnight on November 1st. I do have work in the morning.

[justauthoring]

jerk [3].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate. requested -> me begging for another soulmate fic with bakugou 😔😔🤲🏻 requested by -> anonymous

a/n: something a little happy and fluffy for the episode today :) truthfully, i don't even know what this is...

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one. part two.

You liked to think you were good at picking up certain signs.

Bakugou, however, clearly thought the opposite.

U.A. was doing an interactive training program with other schools. This was necessarily anything new, you’ve done them plenty of times now; but what was new was this time you had a soulmate.

Or, rather, you were with your soulmate.

That in of itself was anything new. Lots of people had soulmates and although it was rarer to find yours when you were quite young, as young as you and Bakugou were, it wasn’t unheard of. As you watch the multiple of young heroes in training, just like you, run around, you pick up on the certain singles of bonded pairs.

Two girls walking hand in hand, with beaming smiles on their faces and cheeks rosy from the simple intimacy of their actions. You see a boy pressing a chaste kiss to a girl’s cheek in a corner a few feet away from you, the girl responding with a laugh and half-hearted attempt to bat away the boys wandering lips. Two boys training together on one of the allotted stages, which to any normal gaze looks like nothing special, but you pick up on the way their hearts race and their eyes dance across each other's figures in a burst of excitement because of your quirk.

So, no, you weren’t the only one and certainly not when it came to the world. Of course not.

It was still weird though. At least to you. Bakugou and you have been together for a few months now and at this point you’ve grown used to the relationship. There was even a sense of dependency you felt towards Bakugou, a way that your heart yearned for him in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

The two of you got along great. He made you laugh and smile more than anyone ever had and you seemed to be good at helping him see things through a clearer, calmer lens. There were nights shared together, just the two of you, where hours would pass that felt like seconds of pure bliss as you both simply talked. It was nothing special, if anything it was especially ordinary, but it flooded you with warmth and love and you cherished every second of it.

Things were good. Great.

But in the eyes of others, Bakugou wasn’t a big fan of PDA. He’d do it sometimes; he didn’t mind holding your hand or kissing you quickly after class, things like that. Overall though, his more intimate actions were shared behind closed doors and away from prying eyes and you had no problem with it.

You actually appreciated it. You liked having those special moments where it was just the two of you and no one else. It made them more cherished in your heart.

Bakugou, however, seemed to have no problem with PDA when it came beyond just the eyes of your classmates.

All the different classes had been given a free afternoon; meaning, students were free to choose to focus on whatever they sought best. It was, as Aizawa-sensei explained to your class, an opportunity to better get to know fellow-heroes-in-training and honestly, you’d been very excited at first. There was a group of girls that had quirks you thought meshed well with yours and you’d wanted to talk to them.

That had been the plan.

But Bakugou wouldn’t leave your side! Beyond that, it wasn’t just him hovering nearby, it was him constantly keeping a hand on you and not letting you leave his side. You didn’t necessarily mind if Bakugou came with you until you realized that he seemed to scare every person away from him, which, in turn, meant from you.

“You’re pouting.”

Huffing, you turn away from Bakugou; “I'm annoyed.”

“Is it wrong that I want to spend time with my girlfriend?” Bakugou quirks a challenging brow at you, smirking.

“No,” you roll your eyes. “But you scare everyone away.”

“Oi.”

“It’s true!”

Sighing, there’s an echoed moment of silence before Bakugou frowns down at you. “I’m just worried about you.”

Shifting so his arm is no longer around your waist and rather you’re holding it, you glance up at him; “we’re literally surrounded by a bunch of heroes-in-training.” Then, pausing, you add somewhat spitefully; “which includes me.”

Bakugou just shakes his head; “I know.”

“Katsuki,” you call, reaching forward to brush your fingers across his cheek in the way you know he likes. Instantly, the tension in his face eases; something that never fails to make you smile. “We’re supposed to be mingling.”

He scoffs. “You sound like shitty hair.”

“Because Eijirou is right,” you challenge.

Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou hesitates; “what do they matter? They’re a bunch of extras anyway.”

“I thought we were done calling our friends extras,” you remind.

“They’re not our friends.”

“Katsuki.”

“Fine,” he snaps, face pinched in clear annoyance but a certain frustration in the fact that he knows you’re right. “I’ll leave you and ‘mingle’,” he makes sure to add the air quotes. “But only for an hour. Then I'll find you and we’re gonna do some training.”

“Yes,” you nod, “of course. Naturally.”

Your words are teasing but said with a certain fondness. Bakugou was always training and it was clearly a hobby of his that he wanted to share with you – honestly, sometimes his training sessions were absolute hell but you’d put up with them for his sake.

With a final nod and a kiss, Bakugou stomps off. Distantly, you hear him shouting ‘shitty-hair’ but you figure Kirishima can deal with his clingy ass for an hour while you go and meet some new people. 

And for the first forty minutes, it goes well. You’re bouncing from area to area, meeting new people and chatting with them, even sparring with a few. It’s great. You loved your class and your friends, but it was so interesting getting new perspectives from different people that were training in different ways than U.A. typically did. It was absolutely invigorating and you were reveling in every second of it.

Until you come across a boy named Aoto.

The conversation starts fine; he kind of runs into you but you laugh it off and learn he’s actually from a school located in America that had come down to Japan for this huge hero event. You compliment him on his Japanese, finding it amazing that he nails the pronunciation of words so well and falls into an eased conversation. Then, as the minutes pass by, the conversation starts to shift into a stranger topic.

Aoto asks if you’ve found your soulmate – it��s rather sudden and not something you’re really expecting. Still, you tell him you have and he asks if it was the blonde boy he’s seen glued to your side the entire day; it’s said with a certain edge you’re thrown off by and that’s where you start to grow a little weary.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly. “Katsuki. The way we found out is actually a funny story—”

“Isn’t he the one that the League of Villains took when he was in his first year?”

Your lips are left parted from his sudden interruption, but instantly your eyes narrow at his tone. “The League of Villains kidnapped him,” you say warily, somewhat defensively. “But Katsuki fought to get away and never once even considered their offer to join them—”

“Yeah,” Aoto cuts you off again, dismissing you with a single wave of his hand. “But isn’t he the reason why All Might had to retire too?”

Instantly, all pretense disappears. You’d already been annoyed but your face shifts into something nasty at his insinuation; even more because you knew that was something that still haunted Bakugou to this day. It wasn’t true, of course, but you knew that it still remained on his mind constantly.

“All Might fought to save one of his students,” you hiss, taking a step back from him. “And it isn’t Katsuki's fault the fight ended that way.”

“I don’t know,” Aoto hums, “someone like that? I wouldn’t care if he was my soulmate, I’d stay away from him. He’s quite terrifying too, I’d bet that if given another chance he wouldn’t hesitate to join—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as he suddenly falls to his knees, clutching his head in pain as he lets out a cry. You step towards him as he does, letting him wallow in pain for a moment longer before letting go. Aoto instantly falls back the second he does, staring up at you in disbelief and fear as you glare down at him; 

“You don’t know the first thing about Katsuki. So don’t pretend you do.”

Aoto just sputters up at you, eyes wide, practically shaking.

Then, a familiar voice calls out; “Y/N?”

You spin, face easing the second you meet Bakugou’s. He’s walking towards you, confused eyes flickering between you and Aoto, who's still on the ground, before Bakugou finally registers the look on your face and instantly, Bakugou’s eyes narrow.

“Did this damn extra do something to you?”

Rushing forward, you catch Bakugou by the arm before he can reach Aoto, pulling him towards you; “Katsuki. Katsuki! It’s fine, it’s okay!”

Bakugou just shakes his head as Aoto stares fearfully up at him, looking near tears.

“No, it’s not,” Bakugou growls, “if he hurt you or said anything—”

Shifting, you press both of your hands against Bakugou’s cheeks, cupping them and forcing him to meet your eyes. He’s panting and his eyes are wild but he instantly focuses on you, gaze softening.

“Let’s just go,” you whisper, “I just wanna spend time with you.”

That catches his attention. All anger wipes from his face instantly and Bakugou is instantly easing in your grasp, face brightening as slowly nods, moving to take your head in his own and threading his fingers through yours. He squeezes your hand, sending one last frightening glance Aoto’s way before walking off, leading you with him.

Then, a few minutes later when it’s just the two of you, Bakugou smirks down at you; 

“Thought you wanted to ‘mingle’.”

Grinning, you shrug; “it’s more fun with you.”

[firenagy]

I said I could make a whole essay about why this is my favorite line in Slay the Princess and @lobsterlobotomiseslobos challenged me to go ahead and do it so here's that. Posted on discord and was told to share it here as well. This was written for a group of people who had varying levels of experience with this game, so I cover a lot of the basics.

Let's start with the very fundamentals, this is not a line that is said, instead, it is one of the first things you think of after ascending to godhood and making the decision that change is a fundamentally necessary force in the universe. Everything in this sequence is packed with necessary context, and emotions that hit only after you experience all of it, however I'll do my best to summarise it, since even players who finished the game can miss some very important info in this part.

You and Her were once one unchallenged god. The themes of self discovery and self exploration through comparison of the self with the other are crucial to the game, exemplified specially during your very first meeting with the princess. If you explore your options, talking to yourself in the form of the Voice of the Hero and to the Narrator, it's quickly apparent that this world doesn't really exist. Or rather, that the only parts of the world that exist, for all intents and purposes, are you, the path in the woods, the cabin, and the Princess. This includes things like your and her name and background, which upon scrutiny are nonexistent. Crucially, the narrator is also not real. You can talk to him all you want and he can experience some slight manner of growth, but the person whose memories and personalities make up the narrator is long gone, leaving behind an echo in hopes of guiding you to do what he wants. to kill what was once part of you.

The Narrator, or rather, the person who died in order to create the echo you meet in the game, was a normal person, possibly a human hinted by the princess' appearance. This person seems to have lived at a time so far beyond our own it's hard to describe, but is best put as the last remains of civilization living, holding out, as the very last stars in our universe burn out. As he sees it, change only brings upon death and destruction, because his world already had time to grow and prosper, with now being the end of everything. We also get a rare glimpse at the world of the narrator, beyond the faux reality, if we choose to slay Her.

That brings us to the content of the game itself, two nascent gods interacting, fighting, loving, discovering who they are. Their only point of reference for what is "real" being one another. The Shifting Mound uses a line that stuck with me to describe the state of your being,"We are oceans reduced to shallow creeks", as a way to describe what it feels to be forced down into a tiny vessel, memories erased. All of the routes in the game can be described as a journey of self discovery, with the Princess being a being of perception, your thoughts on her influence her mentally and physically. In turn, she influences you back in a far more subtler way, adding more facets to your personality in the form of the Voices.

And that is the setting of our meeting. Two gods who were once one whole being having a conversation. They were forced, over and over again, to figure out who they are. Both having nothing but fragments to go by, small pieces of what they once made up, until finally, She is made whole. The Princess' ascension into the Shifting Mound is a sight to behold, and brings upon your own ascension were you to wish to become a god like her.

In this particular ending, the Long Quiet, the god of unchanging reality, stasis, and nothingness itself decides to leave with Her, the Shifting Mound, the god of life, death, time, and ultimately, change. As you open a rift in the world the Narrator created you two see for the first time object reality. You are both left speechless by how magnificent it all is, something that wasn't made to trick, deceive, or guide you into any role you must fulfil, made with no greater purpose than to just be.

That's the crux of why this line is so important to me, after having lived, fought, loved, died, countless times in a world that was fake, created to pit you one against the other, you finally escape. You are free, and She is with you, as you are once more free to roam the real universe after being trapped in a cage for so long.

[astrologyvas]

mars in the 12th house overlay/synastry

please do not copy or repeat my work anywhere

mars in the 12th house is a mystical, alluring and beautifully contradicting synastry placement.

in this overlay, we have mars, the fiery and confrontational celestial body. when you mix that with the 12th house, being an elusive, murky swamp of reminiscence, there is a lot of conflicting energies. on one hand, the fieriness of mars has the potential to boil out the impurities of the watery house and cleanse them of tainted habits. on the other hand, water can extinguish fire completely.

the first glimpse of this person ignites a spiritual pull towards one another. both, but typically the mars, feel an insatiable curiosity towards the other. it's like a dark, faint-lighted party where they can't take their eyes off each other.

mars in this connection wants to untwine the soul of the house, diving head first into their whirling and opaque waters. however, they quickly realize they need to slow down and restrain their impulsivity in order to be abundant in this connection. the house is cautious of mars, and may be scared away if mars does not tread carefully. trust is very blurred in this overlay, both wanting to be in control of the vulnerability shown to each other.

the house is an oasis of water that mars stumbled upon. mars will need to relinquish its aggressive nature in order to penetrate the shy and mysterious aura the house emanates. mars frantically texting "why are you ignoring me?" while the house is asleep vibes.

how aware one is of their subconscious will be how aware they are of what's going on beneath the surface of this overlay. there is a very passive energy when it comes to disputes and arguments. hidden conflict is a theme because of the timidity of both parties. there is potential for destruction if open & honest communication is not at the forefront of this connection.

mars is almost drowned in the dim haze of the house, causing a tendency for delusion and false impressions. both mars and the house feel like a piece of the puzzle is missing, because of their preconceived notion of who this person is.

this linkage will be a sensual and otherworldly bond. sex feels like you are traveling to astral planes through each other. like you are pulling their walls away, and reaching into the depths of their soul.

it is a powerful coming-together, but if either parties aren't looking or prepared for 12th house activation, it can be just as powerfully draining and cataclysmic.

mars can reach parts of the house that they may not be used to, especially if the house person has an inactive or empty 12th house. it can have the energy of "wait, you noticed that?" after the mars pointed out something the house only ever thought to themselves.

12th house connections are notoriously tragic, as the 12th house itself is a very impenetrable retreat in the natal chart. the house person may initially be full of lust for the mars person, which in time bleeds into insecurity or resentment. this is due to the nature of the 12th house bringing unconscious wounds and trauma to the surface when triggered by someone like mars.

however, this synastry is spiritually elevated and beautifully transcending if the challenging energies are balanced and nurtured. these bonds are meant to trigger change and emotional discomfort.

songs that may resonate:

like a tattoo - sade she - harry styles how to disappear - lana del rey rose blood - mazzy star

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The hero let out a wet groan, pushing themselves up as the blood ran down their side. It was in itself a funny feeling.

It was a good feeling.

Absolutely no one in this rotten city was able to challenge them. Physically, they were stronger. Mentally, they were quicker. And their dedication, their devotion was like a holy prayer that guided them through their nights.

The hero knew it wasn't a good thing - the longing for a challenge, the desire for an opponent that could actually make them a better fighter. It was a dangerous wish and they had to remind themselves regularly why they were doing this job in the first place.

To do good. To be good. Not to find someone who was their very own nemesis.

However, with the villain's boot on their ribs and that brutal nature of theirs, the hero was struggling not to find this utterly satisactory.

"Yeah, right there," the hero wheezed. "Make me scream."

The villain tilted their head and tutted, nearly bored of the hero's games. They let out a sigh and grabbed the hero's hair, yanking them up.

Another wheeze.

And the villain crouched, holding the hero by their hair. Very close. Very intimate.

"Do you think I am stupid?" the villain asked. Their lips brushed the hero's ear and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, the hero could only concentrate on the adrenaline rushing through their body.

"No," the hero said. They had to grin. Sometimes, they wished they could devour the villain, that they could change them and ultimately, that they could control them.

The hero knew it wasn't right. They knew it wasn't good. But they had never felt this kind of obsession towards anyone. In previous relationships, they hadn't gotten jealous, they hadn't gotten angry. They had never struggled like this. They had never doubted themselves like this.

"I know your dirty little secret," the villain said. "I know you like me. You like this."

"I didn't try to hide it," the hero said.

"Not from me. But the public."

"What are you trying to...?"

"Oh, poor hero," the villain murmed. "See, the difference between you and me is, that I do not care about you. If this gets to one, just one flimsy reporter, the people will turn against you. I can ruin your entire career. Your entire life."

The hero had miscalculated. Obviously, they hadn't expected their nemesis to feel the same. But they also hadn't expected them to tell the public. To use the public against the hero. It was a little shameless. But the hero was even more disgusted by their admiration for it.

"So?" the hero asked. Losing the public was a detrimental loss, that much was clear. But was it even measurable next to the fights with the villain? Did it even matter? When the hero could feel this euphoric? This alive? When had the public ever made them feel that way? "I would still have you."

"I do not love you," the villain argued. "You're not as important to me as you think."

"Give it some time," the hero said. "You will love me, don't worry. Everyone does."

The villain simply laughed at that. It was nearly soft. Or maybe the hero wanted it to be. It didn't matter.

"I have to admit, I am quite interested in what you have in store for me. How will you act once the public calls you a traitor? What will you do when I refuse to fight you? You are-" with their index finger, the villain traced the hero's thoat "-so very unique."

"Is that attraction?"

"Obligatory interest."

"And you say you're not in love."

They stared at each other until, finally, the villain dropped them. They cleared their throat and tilted their head. But the hero swallowed blood when their head nearly smashed against the concrete floor.

"I like toying with you, that is all."

"Sure," the hero said. They clutched their heart, tried to breathe. Being close to the villain was a gift, no matter how much it hurt. The hero loved it, loved their words, loved their personality, loved the challenge. It was insane, the hero felt completely deranged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

And the hero was excited. So very excited for the next weeks.

[pascaloverx]

BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

AO3 LINK ONE

PREVIEW

Walking through King's Landing is exhausting. Your life as a bastard has not been easy, especially with the struggle for the Iron Throne. Unsure of which direction to take, you have tried to be invisible to the Targaryens while working in a brothel to survive. This morning, you were summoned by a royal messenger on behalf of King Aegon II. You thought it was a joke, but soon realized you really had to go to the Red Keep. You are taken to whoever summoned you like a little mouse sneaking through the sewers until you reach the surface. Perhaps they don't want to publicize that a prostitute is being brought in for a private conversation with the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I heard that my presence here had been requested. But I didn't imagine I would be summoned by Prince Aemond," you say as you enter the room indicated by the messenger and come face to face with Aemond One-Eye. He looks a bit more intimidating in person, but in a way, it's not a bad kind of intimidating. Just surprising.

"Ao kostagon enter, bastard." Prince Aemond commands with a certain skill. But you are somewhat worried that he might know you are a Targaryen bastard. So pretending to be oblivious seems to be the wisest course of action for now.

"This is a lovely place. An extremely enchanting castle. However, if you summoned me here for a conversation in another language, I will be a nuisance to Your Highness. Since your request for my presence proves ineffective, perhaps I should leave immediately," you say, trying not to show any hint of fear. You are a prostitute, accustomed to pretending all sorts of things. As you hesitantly move toward the exit of the room, where you are alone with the Prince, he doesn't seem to fall for your ruse. He throws a dagger in your direction, which grazes the corner of your cheek before embedding itself in the door, which is closed.

"Do you intend to waste our time here? I know you speak High Valyrian, and honestly, I’m hating your attempt to deceive me, gundjabo." He speaks while watching you turn, somewhat irritated by his actions. However, the One-Eyed Prince seems very proud of his deed. He is speaking in High Valyrian to you, probably to test you, but you feel that if you do not meet his expectations, the dagger will find its final mark and you will die.

"If you know that I can speak and understand what you are saying in High Valyrian, Your Highness, tell me, what use would a prostitute be to you? Do you, by any chance, have some secret desire in your chambers that requires a different language?" You might lose your tongue for speaking this way to the Prince Regent, but anger got the better of your temper, causing you to suggest that he brought you to the Red Keep to exchange heated vows in High Valyrian, which is nothing but folly.

"Your mouth would be much better sealed forever. But I need you for a mission, so for once, be less of a deceitful prostitute and serve your King," Prince Aemond says as he moves across the room, seemingly trying to reach you. You, however, despite your nerves, manage to grasp the dagger embedded in the door. Now, he stands just a few steps away from you, while you hold the dagger that could have gravely wounded you.

"I think this is yours, Your Highness." Your eyes meet the Prince's gaze. One eye reveals a hint of surprise, perhaps even pride, confirming that you can speak High Valyrian. The other eye, covered forever, conceals something deeper—perhaps resentment, perhaps fear. He approaches slowly, as if analyzing your behavior; likely wary of being harmed. But swiftly, his hand moves over yours, pulling the dagger from your grip and into his own.

"Follow me," is all he says as he sheathes the dagger somewhere in his attire and opens the door. You don’t fully understand his intent, but you know you don’t want to provoke Prince Aemond's wrath. At least not in this way. You follow him quickly, while the Prince seems to be almost racing toward one of the castle’s exits. He mounts a horse with enviable precision. You watch him, still unsure of your role in his sudden departure from the castle. He adjusts his long hair and then extends a hand toward you. You stare at him for three seconds before hearing him grunt in your direction. Seemingly as impatient as possible, he nearly falls off the horse while trying to grasp your arm, but he manages to hold onto it after the first attempt—holding your arm, not falling off the horse.

"Where are we going, Your Highness?" you ask, feeling your hair whip in the wind, as you notice a few people—probably servants of King Aegon II—passing by as if you’re inconsequential. Another grunt from Prince Aemond makes it clear that if you don’t get on the horse, you might be risking your well-being.

"I intend to test you before revealing your purpose. Now I suggest you come with me, or I’ll be forced to find another bastard to replace you and order your death." Prince Aemond seems astonished by your reluctance, forcing you to follow his commands. But really, there’s no other option. You leap toward him, being propelled onto the back of his horse. He begins to gallop with astonishing speed, so fast that you’re compelled to wrap your arms around his waist. He gives a slight turn of his head, looking in your direction, which startles you and almost makes you fall off the horse. However, this seems to amuse Prince Aemond. Before you can react, it seems you’re arriving at a location. A place certainly surrounded by nature, which gives you a comforting feeling despite the unknown. That is, of course, until you notice a massive dragon ahead. He brought you here to become dragon food.

"As flattered as I am by the importance you place on feeding your dragon well, I must say that a prostitute who speaks High Valyrian will not be any more special than any other meal given to your dragon," you say as you dismount the horse, struggling a bit. Prince Aemond is too absorbed in admiring his dragon to notice your struggle to get off the horse.

"Vhagar is a female dragon. And keep your mouth shut for a moment. You’ll soon understand your purpose here," Prince Aemond says, drawing closer to Vhagar. She, with her head lowered, lifts it from amidst some branches and foliage to see who is approaching.

"She is quite impressive. But I don’t understand why I was brought here, Prince Aemond. Is there a reason I need to meet your dragon?" you say as you follow the Prince toward the dragon. Vhagar emits a somewhat shrill noise, making you stop for a moment to look at her.

"I’ve heard that my sister plans to raise an army of bastards. I thought I might at least try to have one bastard on my side. There is a dragon, which has been confirmed to be available to be claimed. I want you to claim it for me and fight alongside your King." Prince Aemond speaks with vigor, as if discussing a great triumph that is to come. You look at him reluctantly, struggling to accept such an absurd proposal.

"You brought me here to force me to interact with your dragon. So if I don’t pass this test, I’ll be eliminated one way or another," you say, looking at Prince Aemond with some anger. He remains indifferent to whether you live or die. He just wants to ensure that he isn’t wasting his time chasing an illusion.

"I'm glad you're not as stupid as you seem. Now, stop wasting our time and go on," he says, as impatient as ever, stopping midway between you and Vhagar. You let out a nervous laugh, not quite believing that this is how you're going to meet your end.

"Likyri, ȳdra daor sagon zūgagon." You speak with a certain precision as you approach Vhagar. It’s not as if your job is to claim her. But if she accepts you, you might be able to prove useful to the Prince. And if you’re useful to him, you’ll be useful to the King. You move your hand forward to signal Vhagar that you are there. You are a nobody to her, but you appear alongside her rider. You look into her eyes, trying to stay steady as the dragon raises part of her body in your direction. She seems to be still assessing who or what you are.

"Gīda, Vhagar. Ao ȳdra daor jorrāelagon naejot zūgagon nyke." You try to calm her, speaking in High Valyrian or at least the most you’ve learned. You’re somewhat terrified when you notice that your hand is on Vhagar. It seems she has allowed you to touch her, perhaps mistaking you for a previous rider. The reasons for the dragon allowing your touch may not be particularly relevant. What matters is that now you’re at risk of becoming dragon food, as Prince Aemond certainly seems very enthusiastic about the fact that you’ve touched, and are still touching, his dragon.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[ouiouimochi]

Touch-move! Game for two

pairing: gen narumi x reader

genre: slice of life, romance(?), teen narumi

wc: 3k+

warning/s: profanities, manga spoilers for non-readers, no beta we die like (redacted), wonky format yey

note/s: takes place before narumi got recruited into the JAKDF. no mention of kaiju in this part. inspired by something I apparently experienced that I was unaware of until my friend hilariously told me (a better ending ig?)

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Gen Narumi was left on his own once more as his highschool peers chattered amongst themselves in their own groups. He paid them no mind, walking through the bustling hallways and up the stairs leading to the rooftop while absorbed into his handheld console. The male reached for the door handle and turned it, slightly wincing at the amount of light that greeted his face upon opening the entrance to the top of the school.

He strides over to his usual spot only to find it was occupied by a girl that he figured was his senior as indicated by the colored stripe on her uwabaki. She was staring intently at the familiar checkered playing board and its signature pieces

You didn't hear the rooftop door opening, nor did you notice someone walk up to your spot. Very immersed in the game of chess you were playing…

with yourself

Gen was curious as to why this senior of his was playing a game meant for two on her own. He would've thought you were quite the sad sight but he spectated you silently, watching as you moved the chessmen of both sides in turn. He eventually gets engaged as well, impressed at how you move the pieces as if you were placing two chess experts against each other— without having a bias as to which side to win either.

You thought hard about the next move, in a predicament. It was taking you quite a while to decide until a hand smoothly took a piece and carried the ivory knight to a specific coordinate.

You processed the whole setup, in agreement that the action was the best one at the moment. You were delighted, only noticing the person that joined you on the rooftop had crouched on the ground to impose themself in your game.

You allowed your eyes to trail from the unknown person's green-striped uwabaki before settling on the person’s face. He doesn't seem familiar to you, heck you think you'd never be familiar with anyone even in your year level. However, you can't help but think he was pleasant to look at.

“Make your move,” his voice rumbled, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blink a few times before placing your attention back to the chessboard. You scanned the pieces before making a bold move of threatening the ivory queen. The unnamed boy comfortably settled himself on the side where the white pieces were positioned.

You look up at him as his red eyes surveyed the board. It was intriguing for you to see how focused he seemed to be in the spontaneous game. You may as well be delighted that another person has joined you in your lonely session, he seemed to be good at it too.

Clack.

You snap your attention back to the board before using the ebony bishop to take his pawn. The male raises an eyebrow at the move, making you unknowingly grin.

He scoffs and confidently moves his rook, challenging to take your knight. You lick your lips, excited to have a thrilling chess game with an actual opponent. You moved a pawn, confusing the other player immensely. You two continued to play the game silently, not even a word of introduction to each other.

Narumi stares blankly at the chessboard, gobsmacked at the turn of events. He had realized a few turns in that your actions all had a purpose— the unsuspecting pawn from earlier had upgraded itself into replacing the ebony queen he took from you. The gears in his head going into overdrive, he realizes that no matter what he moves, you'd be able to counter and corner him closer and closer to checkmate. His pride didn't allow him to lose, no it wasn't in his dictionary to lose.

You surprisedly blinked at his decision to move his remaining bishop. You furrowed your eyebrows, staring intensely at the board as if with intent to bore a hole into it.

The boy became impatient, “Move,” he had crossed his arms to tap on his bicep.

“I can't,” your soft-spoken voice echoed, making him realize this was the first time you talked. “It's gonna end in a stalemate no matter which piece I'd touch.”

Narumi gazed at your delicate face before evaluating the game, figuring out that you were right. A dulcet laugh pierced through the silence, sounding like the pleasant tinkling of bells to his ears.

The two-toned haired boy stared at the hand outstretched to him. You introduced yourself.

“Gen Narumi,” he huffed out, tone having no hint of respect meant for someone older than him. You cracked a small smile, not liking the stiff dynamics of this school hierarchy anyways.

The bell rings, signaling the end of your lunch break. You were slightly disappointed, wanting to play an actual match against Narumi. You started neatly fixing up the chessboard.

“Rematch tomorrow, got that?” you gaped at the male’s suggestion, secretly ecstatic that you found yourself a player to go against without judgment or underestimation. He helped you pick up the other pieces to place inside the board.

You nod.

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“No fucking way, I lost again!” Narumi cursed, not believing that someone as great as himself was capable of experiencing losses back-to-back. Although he won a few rounds and got a lot more of stalemates, his pride didn't allow him to have such a bad W/L ratio.

You giggled and sat up proudly, finding it amusing to defeat your…

‘Can we be considered as friends?’

You shook your head at the thought. Poking your tongue out when he accuses you of cheating. You ruffled his already messy two-toned hair, making him glare at you like an angry cat.

“A million years too early to beat me,” you hummed.

“We're the same age, you just skipped a grade,” he argued back, not liking how you were treating him like a kid.

“Fuck this game, I challenge you to a different one!” he exclaimed, tired of losing. He wanted to rub in your face that chess would be the only thing you can have over his head.

He takes out his Nimtemdo Sweetch, positioning the screen to be propped up on a stand. He gave you the blue controller, taking the red for himself. You tilted your head curiously, although video games were not a foreign concept to you, you were not well acquainted with them.

“Don't fucking tell me you've never played any other games,” he raised an eyebrow.

You look at him, a bit offended, “I have, actually! Go, Scrabble, Game of the Generals, and so much more.” You crossed your arms and harrumphed.

“All of which you play alone,” he rebuked, making you blow a raspberry.

“Hey! I play with people sometimes, like the nice elderly at the park…and…” you trail off, unable to keep up the confidence when he continues to stare at you expectantly. You scrunch your eyebrows and pout.

Narumi rolls his red eyes, “Not video games then, fine I'll teach you. It's not satisfying to win against someone who knows little of the game,” he flippantly said. Despite his brash comments, you knew he meant no harm at all. If anything, you found it cute that he was willing to patiently teach you how to play.

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“OI, Why aren't you doing the combo I taught you?? It'd defeat the boss so easily too!” Narumi continued to smash his controller’s buttons as he angrily barked out orders to you. You get irked, focusing on the boss you two decided to fight in co-op.

The male cursed as his character died due to being unable to dodge the monster’s specialized attack, leaving everything up to you.

“Go, go, go! Use your items for fuck’s sake!” he commented, scooching himself close into your space.

“Can you please stop backseating?” you exasperatedly responded, still focused on surviving and ending the fight.

“I wouldn't have to if you had stuck to the plan!”

“Oh my god, my skills were on cooldown to do the combo! The boss was also transitioning to its next phase, stop hounding me!”

Silent falls over as the screen showcases the ending cutscene, indicating a successful boss raid. You smugly look over at him, making him irritated.

“If you just stop being a metaslave, you would've responded easier to unexpected situations.” You tutted at him as though he wasn't the expert in video games among you two.

He growls(I can't AHSHDH I CAN IMAGINE HIM AS A GROWLING CAT), but otherwise stays quiet since you made a point. You made it clear to him during the gaming sessions that you were quite quick on the uptake, soaking in game mechanics like a sponge.

He feels miffed, as your mentor, when he can't help but notice how you were better in certain aspects of gaming than him. Another jab at his pride. However, he couldn't ignore how he's enjoying your presence and skills in different gaming mediums.

“Congrats on winning the judo tournament, by the way,” you caught his attention as he raised his eyebrow in question. You then dangled a small keychain, a trophy with the ‘#1’ engraved on it, in front of his face, urging him to accept it.

Narumi does not know how to react, he had already grown accustomed to not receiving praise or even acknowledgements for his feats. This was quite new, you even gave him a token of congratulations.

His ears burn pink as he accepts the gift. He does not allow himself to be caught lacking so instead of straight out thanking you, he hits you with a

“It's only expected for me to win the tournament,” he smugly huffed out, raising his chin arrogantly while straightening his back to look taller.

You jokingly rolled your eyes, “Confident? Play chess against me, then.” You challenged him.

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You were pleasantly surprised when Gen progressively improved in playing against you, slowly and surely bridging the skill gap between the two of you. He steadily gained more wins over losses recently too.

You furrowed your eyebrows, admittedly having a bit of a hard time. You zoned out for a while but noticed Gen’s lips moving from your peripherals.

Your eyes then lit up, before taking your bishop to check his king. You looked up at the two-toned haired male for his reaction only to be greeted with an intent stare from his carmine orbs. Confused, you tilted your head to one side as he pushed a hand on his forehead to mess up his locks. He muttered something too incomprehensible to reach your ears.

You didn’t dwell too much on it and took a bite out of the school cafeteria’s lunch sandwich he bought for you. It was quite delicious, actually — you could've sworn you've seen the limited promotion for this specific menu item. You shook your head and focused back on the board as he made his move. You smiled, a sign of guaranteed victory.

“Checkmate.”

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It was too cold to chill at your usual spot on the rooftop. You two didn't want to go anywhere filled with busybodies either, so you and your friend agreed to stay at the stairs before the entrance to the roof.

Despite being indoors, you still shivered, covering your arms for a little morsel of warmth. You closed your eyes before you felt a cozy weight drape itself across your back and shoulders. When you opened your eyes, Gen was already settling himself back to his spot. He didn't have his outer coat on anymore, finding that it was what he placed on you.

“Won't you be cold, then?” you asked, concerned for him.

“The cold’s nothing, you're just overreacting.” he rolled his eyes as he leaned backwards, his arms supporting him.

You can't help but smile, wanting to rebuke but decided against it.

“Thank you,” you gratefully said instead, knowing the male doesn't like to outwardly express his true emotions and intentions.

He wasn't making eye contact, instead bringing out the familiar gaming device and setting it up for you to play together.

You remember something and turn to your bag, rummaging through it, pulling out a small but well decorated package. You then extended it towards the two-toned haired male for him to take as he looked at you a bit weirdly.

“And what the fuck’s this for?” he suspiciously asked, eyeing the bag cautiously like a cat.

You rolled your eyes, “Just take it!” you urged. Excitedly anticipating his reaction.

He opens the bag to take out its contents as his eyes widen in surprise before turning to you in disbelief.

“Happy early holidays! Consider it as an early birthday gift as well,” you gave a thumbs up, but he shifted his body away to hide his facial expression.

It might just be from the cold but you can't help but notice how his ears were tinged a little red.

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Spring has arrived with the cherry blossoms blooming and scattering its petals into the wind. The front of the school was filled with a solemn atmosphere of tearful goodbyes among friends and the good memories made on campus. There were also students hounding other students to confess their dearest adoration for their crush and ask for their uniform button. You could've seen people confessing under the romantic blossoms if you squinted.

You sighed at your spot on the rooftop overlooking the front yard on your lonesome. Yet again, you didn’t notice someone sneaking up on you until they plopped themself beside you on the railings. You immediately recognized the messy black and gray mop of hair belonging to your only friend in this school.

“Shouldn't you be down there?” His question pierced the silence.

“I don't want to, to be honest.” you hummed out as he turned his head to look up at you, still resting on his crossed arms on top of the railings. You continued to watch the other students below hugging each other.

You heard a deep sigh before some rustling of clothes as Gen shifted his position to stand. He gets something from his pocket, catching your attention.

“Your hand,” he commanded as you placed your hand palm side up, awaiting what he'd give you. He unceremoniously drops a little accessory on it.

You inspected it, bringing it closer to your eyes. It was a very pretty keychain of an ivory queen chess piece made out of a crystalline material. It glinted beautifully in the sun as some refracted stray lights managed to hit the surface of your face. Gen might as well have had his breath stolen away right there and then, but refused to surrender.

You looked at him and gave him a smile wider than any he'd seen from you. You were quite giddy, more than happy that there was at least one person who was there to make memories with— to make your last year in this school more enjoyable than the previous years.

“Gen,” you called out his name so softly, the boy might have as well allowed his knees to give up on him.

“Thank you so much.”

“Why'd you need to thank me for a small, shitty gift?”

You shook your head.

“No… I mean to thank you for all the memorable lunch breaks of playing chess, of teaching me new games— of just hanging out with my lonely ass…” You spoke, perhaps his vocabulary may have rubbed off on you at some point.

Gen ran his hand through his hair, pushing it upwards as he looked away. He failed to muster up the words he wanted to respond with, being really bad with people for a long time. He didn't want to speak like he usually did, lest you'd burst into tears at his harsh tone even when you spoke with such sincerity.

Your phone rang, interrupting the moment. After picking the device up to your ear, Gen noticed how displeased you were getting each second that passed even if the call only had lasted for around 30 seconds at best. You clicked your tongue in distaste after the call got dropped.

“That's my signal to go,” you turned to your only friend, a bit hesitant. “See you around, I hope?”

He nods his head, waving goodbye when you start to leave. His carmine eyes can only watch as you disappear through the rooftop door.

You arrive at the front where the crowd has significantly dwindled already, only a few stragglers left behind. The sleek black car awaited you beyond the gates of the highschool. You continued making your way towards the vehicle but got stopped when you heard your name being called from behind you.

You rotated to be met with Gen standing tall with his hand on his chest. “Your hand.”

You follow as he placed the small item in your hand, it was a button— more specifically a button from his uniform dress shirt. You look up at him to ask but get interrupted by a beeping horn, reminding you to get in already.

You hesitate again, but end up having to go and leave the two-toned haired male. You get in the car, the vehicle immediately driving off as the damned highschool grew farther and farther from your visuals.

You open your palm and inspect the button. More questions forming rather than answers. It was more of a common tradition for the graduating students to give away their shirt buttons to either friends and admirers in order to symbolize leaving a piece of themselves with these people. However, you cannot forget the crucial detail you noticed when Gen removed his hand from his chest.

The second button, symbolizing the piece closest to the heart, was absent from its spot on his uniform— and it was right there sitting in your hands.

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i was supposed to be working on something else lmao-

will post part 2 someday when brain juice comes back

[metamorphesque]

I don't know how unpopular this opinion is but I strongly hold the position that society today seems unable to differentiate "Art" from entertainment, and this blurring of lines harms both. _ what do you mean?

What I mean to say is that society nowadays fails to recognize the fundamental differences between art and entertainment. Thinking that they are the same or interchangeable does a disservice to both. To me, it's not an "art vs. entertainment" situation. Rather than opposing them, the distinction lies in recognizing their complementary roles because a healthy individual needs both art and entertainment, but for very different reasons.

Entertainment, of course, entertains us; it delights and validates us by affirming our existing beliefs and emotions. It's there to make us feel good — a safe space that doesn't challenge us, as it has been created specifically for our needs and is catering to our preferences. However, it leaves us unchanged and not transformed. Entertainment is produced because there is a public demand for it.

Art, on the other hand, is meant to change and transform us. It's not always delightful, entertaining or self-affirming. On the contrary, it can sometimes feel like an attack on our beliefs and the reality we think we’re living in. Art can be uncomfortable, even disruptive, and by being so, it forces us to engage with it on a deeper level, challenging our perspectives and encouraging us to evolve. Unlike entertainment, art is not made because there is public demand for it. To be more precise, the demand for art exists, but it doesn't come from us — the public; art meets the demands of the time. Real artists are those who can discern the lessons and demands of the time and make them digestible for the public. While entertainment caters to an audience’s desires, art challenges its audience, often presenting ideas or emotions they may not have asked for but need to confront. It’s not about pleasing or fulfilling expectations; instead, art serves as a catalyst for intellectual and emotional growth, pushing society to reflect, adapt and progress.

My beloved Armenian poet Paruyr Sevak has a very thought-provoking piece that, I think, is about real artists. I'll present a rough translation: "They come unoften, yet never too late. / They are born at exactly the right time. / And they get ahead of time itself, / Which is why they are not forgiven".

The role of a true artist goes far beyond technical skill or the ability to produce aesthetically pleasing works that will be liked by many and, thus, make a fortune. A true artist serves as a visionary, a truth-teller and a catalyst for change. They push us to reflect deeply and think critically about the world around us. This is why, in the absence of such people (and I strongly believe that we live in such times), individuals become more susceptible to propaganda, manipulation or conformity, as there are fewer voices prompting them to critically examine their environment. Additionally, without these voices, society loses touch with its emotional depth, becoming more disconnected, indifferent and apathetic to the suffering or experiences of others.

True artists are what we need today. There are many discussions held online about whether today’s celebrities should address "political" issues and the problems we face as humans.

My answer to this is no, at least not for everyone that society considers an "artist." Most of these individuals are mere entertainers who are there solely for entertainment purposes (I would be quick to add that some of them even fail at that). Dozens of them can't even form comprehensive sentences in their mother tongues; how can we expect them to express trustworthy opinions on grave issues? This is one of the reasons why it is highly dangerous to confuse entertainment with art.

[fabdante]

my first piece colored for the @zutaracoloringbook !

the lines were done in clip studio paint, the color in marker, colored pencil, gel pen, and paint pen. with some minor digital touch ups after scanning.

you can color this piece for yourself for free! it's in this years @zutaracoloringbook , go pick yourself up a copy! there's tons of beautiful pieces in it including this one, all for free!

under the cut, for anyone interested, im going to ramble a lot about the process of this one because i just have a lot of thoughts asdfghjk the tldr is: this is not at all how i expected this piece to look, i fell asleep working on it at one point which is just wild to me, and 'ooo pretty colors'

i've sat on this one for a little bit and im still not sure how i feel about it? i like it but it's also not at all how i expected the color for this piece to look asdfghj

i originally thought the palette would be darker but after printing the piece i realized, given the lines were not as dark as they would have been if they'd been drawn traditionally, that i'd drown out the lines with that color scheme.

i also made a lot of little mistakes ranging from using colors darker then i wanted for shading to at one point Literally Falling Asleep While Coloring With Black Marker, thus leaving a black spot on the page that I then had to work around.

the paper also was a double edged sword. i did not print on marker paper or artist paper, which usually is not an issue with me. i know most marker artists will strangle me for saying this, but i have never drawn on marker paper? like ever? i taught myself how to use marker on mixed media paper and i have rarely used marker paper since. i've just never felt a need? contrary to what people have said, i've never seen any like abnormal wear and tear on my markers doing this and i, personally, just accept that markers are going to bleed. it's not my enemy it's just part of the medium. it's what markers do. they're a wet medium even on paper made for wet mediums they will bleed out and often bleed through a little bit. i learned how to work around that and use it to my advantage. this paper however, the markers didn't bleed at all? and they dried so fast it made maintaining an even texture and blending like i normally do a challenge. it just didn't have a lot of give? HOWEVER the color pay off was CRAZY like the colors are so vivid and bright and rich. like, i made my own color chart for my markers on index cards and then i would often test the colors on scrap paper of the same paper to confirm what the colors going to look like but when i would use colors on the piece itself they were always darker, richer, brighter, and just all around way more vivid. which makes the piece very nice to look at, admittedly asdfghjk. so paper pros: fantastic color pay off like crazy color pay off, paper cons: I Don't Know How To Blend.

for anyone wondering why i didn't print on marker paper: firstly, i don't have any this size. secondly, marker paper tends to be pretty thick and not super malleable so i didn't think it'd be safe for my printer. likewise, i didn't think any of my other paper would be either. so i decided to do what i did last year which was use a fancy paper stock i had that was printer safe for my printer paper so it's not just regular thin computer paper.

some of these technical issues i blame on being out of practice, i haven't worked in marker for a minute and this piece involving such large scale blending was a bit ambitious especially on unfamiliar paper (learning how to blend with markers i find is just a lot of practice with your particular markers to know how they behave while also knowing your paper). but im also just confused because i feel like the paper behaved better when i used it last year and with my self portraits asdfghj im wondering if i just printed this on the wrong side? more testing is in order before i work on my next two pieces dfghjklfghjk

so, anyway, i might try to color this one again because i don't know how satisfied i am with it. like, i like it, but also it just doesn't feel correct. i might do it digitally or i might do it traditionally, we'll see. but im not going to try again until i finish the other two i need to color. i think this stems from the fact that i just feel like the palette was meant to be different then the one i ended up with so it just still feels incomplete to me. we'll see how i feel, though, when i finish the other two.

anyway, if anyone read all of that, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[slater-baby]

Hello! I made a post asking about how to write military terminology in a Call of Duty fanfic! I wanted to follow up on how someone could go about writing scenes about detailed missions and how to get inspiration for those? I have a very specific type of scene that I want to write with an already established villain in the Ghost comics

Sorry if I’m not making sense, I can be bad at explaining myself 😭

Hey!! thank you so much for stopping by!!! Hopefully the guide was of some help 🙏❤️

(Without further ado)

Slater’s Impromptu List of Military Reference Material

This is definitely a great question. I wanna start this off by saying that I've been interested in the military and police my entire life, and that my dream career involves military contracting, so in my own writing, I oftentimes just "wing it" with the things I already know, so to speak aildlajdf But there are definitely some great places to draw inspiration for realistic military missions!!

Let's talk about the kind of training that soldiers do!! In order to understand the realistic capabilities of your characters, you should definitely think about their physical prowess and training. For Simon (a highly trained spec ops soldier), I would research the requirements to become a member of the SAS. Things like, what physical tests would he have to pass? What kind of specialized training did he go through? Most Spec ops soldiers will have to go through a training exercise that teaches them how to resist interrogation and torture techniques as well. This probably isn't super inspiring, but it's a great way to ground yourself in the reality of it. Get to know the mundanity of the work, as well as the darker realities of it.

2. Simon's an officer, and so are the others! Oftentimes in the game, we just see the four of them, but in reality, they would actually be in charge of large groups of people. Sergeants can be in charge of leading and training 10-15 soldiers. Simon, who oversees the sergeants, would be in charge of 20-30. Price, however, would be in charge of 40-50. If small group tactical operations seem challenging (which they can be), you can always write about a full out war with the 141 involved!

3. Video games!! The great thing about writing is that it doesn't need to be entirely realistic aldljkadflj Movies and TV, especially if you're not concerned about being completely historically accurate, are a great place to draw inspiration!! Arguably the best place for inspiration for COD fanfic itself, in my opinion, are the COD campaigns (particularly MW2019, MW2 (2022), and the *opening sequence* of MW3 2023). If you haven't already, I would recommend watching a gameplay walkthrough on YouTube and thinking about the choices the characters *physically* make. If you're going to enter a room, why should you first throw a flash bang? What kind of clothes are they wearing? If the enemy is facing towards them, how would they walk, and what would they avoid doing? How do they speak to each other on the radio and directly? What kind of weapons are they carrying and how is it relevant to their environment? If they're really far away, they might be using rifles, but if they're close, they might be using pistols. My all time favorite moment (which I've written about too) is the MW2019 opening with Gaz at Picadilly circus. You can reuse tropes from the campaigns just with different flares and changes!! Here are some examples: trying to locate a bomb and a group of civilians. Clearing and searching houses or buildings for a suspect (like Hasan). Assassinating certain targets in broad daylight. Securing and occupying a building against enemy targets (ie. secure the Burger Town).

4. TV AND MOVIES!!! This is a GREAT one!! Now, when I say this, this also comes with the obligatory "it doesn't have to be realistic" tag lol. However, this one is arguably what was most helpful to me. I am a *SERIAL* documentary enjoyer, and I oftentimes draw from real life crime events and other things when writing scenes! For example, my recent work Indigo: the main enemy was purely inspired by David Koresh and the shoot out between the American ATF and his followers in Waco, Texas. Crime documentaries are super helpful when considering the logistics of crime without making your search history look like the scene of a murder lol. My favorite documents and military movies?

Waco: American Apocalypse (On Netflix)

American Manhunt: The Boston Marathon Bombing (This one has a very thoughtful examination of Islamophobia in the post-9/11 era, On Netflix)

Night Stalker (on Netflix)

The Anthrax attacks: in the shadow of 9/11 (On Netflix)

Turning Point: 9/11 and the War on Terror (On Netflix)

Winter on Fire: Ukraine's fight for freedom (On Netflix)

Evil Genius: the True Story of America's Most Diabolical Bank Heist (this one is incredibly entertaining, on Netflix)

Terrorism Close Calls (this one can be super helpful, because it gives you an idea of things that people actually tried to do, how they did it, and how the police/military stopped them specifically, on Netflix)

Hostages (good at showing the planning of a military operation, on Max)

For fictional movies and TV shows, here are my favorites that can help show you some dramatized military, politics, and history!!

Zero Dark Thirty (arguably, I think this one is really good for showing you specifically the special forces, as well as the realities of CIA darkness)

Black Hawk Down

1917

Dunkirk

All Quiet on The Western Front (this is a hard watch, but it shows you the nature of war)

Inglorious Basterds (for a comedic spin on Battle Buddies and other military tropes)

Triple Frontier (for small group operations)

Narcos (all seasons)

As for books, I really only have a couple. Literally anything by Tom Clancy will give you some pretty realistic military facts. I also really enjoyed Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris because it shows how human the people investigating these crimes are.

As for academic writing, one of the best pieces I can recommend you is The Road to Abu Graib, which is about torture by the CIA. Here's the link to it. Another great book that talks about the logistics of counter terrorism and surveillance is "In the Camps: China's High-Tech Penal Colony" by Darren Byler. This one explores Islamophobia, the war on terror, surveillance logistics, as well as the use and development of technology.

asdfljiaf OKAY I AM SO SORRY FOR WRITING THIS MUCH ALKDFALJ you just so happened to ask me the question that I've been DYING to talk about. I have a degree in International Relations, so being able to give you some good recs of my favorite media is pretttyyyyy fun

.........though I am SO SO SORRY FOR OVERWHELMING YOU WITH INFORMATION 😭 hopefully there are at least some movies and documentaries that sound interesting to you!!

As for writing, one thing that I want you to think about is this:

MILITARY WORK IS OFTENTIMES JUST WORK. Like, it can be an office job a lot of the time, especially for high ranking officers and CIA officers. Military work is also inherently human. Many of the things that military operators do are a product of natural human instinct, honestly. I wholeheartedly believe that the world is less complicated than what people believe it is. Military operators are just regular people at the end of the day. They're no different from the rest of us.

Anyway!! Thank you Anon so much for stopping by!! I hope you succeed in writing your dream scene and I would LOVE to know more about it if you ever decide to drop back into my DMs or Ask Box!! Hope you’re doing well!! ❤️❤️

[nombre-va-aqui]

HIHIIII HRUU?? So i mesure could have a shot of Golden cheese x dragon reader if that’s ok, the theme and storyline is up 2 u!! Tyyyyy

The cheese of gold and the dragon of silver (Golden Cheese Cookie x Dragon Male Reader)

Reader: Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie

I have to apologize in advance, I don't know what got into me while writting this but it ended up being a bit too long.

Throught all of Earthbread, every cookie knows how strong and powerful dragons are. Yet, there are some cookies that dare to challenge and fight those dragons.

Golden Cheese Cookie, ruler of the Golden Cheese Kingdom, always treasured gold and valuable objects. When she heard about a dragon whose scales where made out of pure silver, of course she got inmediatly interested. This dragon, as rumours said, lived in a hidden cave so no one would come to try and take his scales violently.

Althought, with Golden Cheese looking for him, it was a mere question of time before his cave was found.

Golden Cheese: LEGENDARY SILVER DRAGON! IF YOU REALLY ARE HERE, I, GOLDEN CHEESE COOKIE, CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!

The voice full of determination sounded all over the big cave from it's entrance. The only response, however, was a soft growl followed by an even softer voice.

??: Oh my, is someone in search of my so called "treasures" again? Golden Cheese Cookie, you say? Alright then, come into my cave and meet me in person.

Golden Cheese smirked. She was ready to go into the cave, but her bodyguards stood in front of her.

Bodyguard 1: Your majesty, this is very suspicious. I'm sure it's a trap.

Bodyguard 2: I agree. I honestly doubt a dragon is so mind-open towards us cookies.

Golden Cheese: Silence!

She yelled as she made her way in front of her guards. She walked ahead without turning her back and without saying any word. Her bodyguards remained silent as they followed her.

The inside of the cave was shiny as shiny could be. The walls were of rock as any other cave, yet there were silver fragments in them, which reflected the sunlight and make it look as if it was in an open field.

There was a big waterfall that created a lake of crystal clear and serene water. The water made grass, moss and even some flowers bloom around.

Any dragon proud of itself must have it's own treasures, and this silver dragon wasn't an exception. Apparently, he was a lover of art, as his treasures were many sculptures, paintings and other art works, each one of them of great beauty.

In the middle of the cave, lying down and curled upon his own body, the silver dragon himself was resting.

Golden Cheese: Ah, the legendary Silver dragon in person. How great!

Silver dragon: It has quite some time since a cookie was brave enough to come into my cave, yet to come to see me in person.

The dragon looked down at the golden cookie and her bodyguards. His body was suddendly surrounded into a silvery cocoon which soon broke and showed him in the form a cookie.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: I take this form is more likely to your kind. My name is Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie. But feel free to call me Silver Dragon if you wish.

Golden Cheese: My, my. It is a surprise to meet a dragon who is this kind and gentle towards cookies. But a pleasant surprise, of course.

Golden Cheese smiled, pleased by the dragon's friendliness. It wasn't usual that a dragon was this kind and gentle, but she did like it.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Now, you said you wanted to challenge me to a duel? I take you seek my so called "treasures".

Golden Cheese: That is right. I, the Golden Sovereign, challenge you to a fight! If I win, you must give your precious silver scales to me!

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: My scales? Is that all you want?

The dragon cookie chuckled a bit as if he just heard a joke. He raised his arm and used his other hand to take off one his scales himself, offering it to Golden Cheese.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: I don't understand why you cookies like my scales so much, but I don't mind sharing them.

Golden Cheese hesitated, she was confused. Her bodyguards were confused too. Was the dragon really giving away his precious scales so easily? Like, really?

Golden Cheese: I... I do not understand. Why do you give away such precious and valuable treasure so easily?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Precious and valuable treasure? Is just an scale, I have them all over my body.

Golden Cheese: You... don't know how valuable silver is?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: I do not. I guess cookies and dragons have different interpretations of what is "valuable". Care to explain me why is silver so valuable to you?

The dragon asked with a gentle smile. The golden queen turned around to look at her bodyguards, they were just as flabbergasted as she was. Looking back at the dragon, she took a breath and started explaining the value of precious metals such as silver, gold, and others. And, she also explained why she wanted the silver.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: So... You wanted my scales because for your kingdom as they have a high value. Did I get it right?

Golden Cheese: You did. So, are you still willing to just give me your scales?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Yes, I still am. However, I want to ask you for something in return.

Golden Cheese: And what is it?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Take me to your kingdom. Seeing how much you love and value it, I wish to see it with my own eyes.

The two bodyguards inmediatly stood in front of their queen, their weapons ready to fight.

Bodyguard 1: Your majesty, this dragon is trying to trick you!

Bodyguard 2: I bet he only wants to steal your gold and treasures!

Golden Cheese: ...

Golden Cheese thought for a second. He was a dragon, he could surely easily cause great damage on her kingdom in just a moment. Then again, he was so calm and looked so kind.

Golden Cheese: ... Very well. You'll come to my kingdom, and then you'll give me your scales. Deal?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Deal.

And so, the queen and her bodyguards returned to the kingdom, now alongside the dragon.

The inhabitants of the kingdom were so happy to see their queen, everyone smiled at her with joy. The queen herself took the dragon to many places of her kingdom, showing off with great pride. After a tour around, they both rested at the throne room, as she sat on her throne and he ate some types of cheese she gifted him.

Golden Cheese: So? How did you like my glorious kingdom, hm?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: *munching on some cheese* Tuuly amaffin.

The dragon took a moment to swallow the food.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Your kingdom is really different from any place I ever saw before. Now, it's time for me to fulfill my part of the deal.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie then scratched his arms, taking off his scales and showing his silvery pale skin under them.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: These scales are for you. Take them as a token of our new friendship.

Golden Cheese: My, how kind of you.

Golden Cheese took the scales and checked them, fascinated at how beautiful they were and how much they shone. She looked at the dragon, seeing how he still enjoyed the remaining leftovers of the cheese she gave him. Her opinion about him changed throught the day, she now appreciated him and saw him as a partner and friend. And... perhaps as something more?

Golden Cheese: Say... How about we make a new deal? You can stay here and be a resident of my kingdom if you want to.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Really? That would be wonderful. But, as you said it is a deal, what must I give you in return?

Golden Cheese: That's simple. My dear friend, I have grown quite attached to you already. Would you consider becoming... King of the Golden Cheese Kingdom?

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: Oh. Oh my.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie looked at Golden Cheese Cookie as he thought about her proposal. A warm and loving smile spread throught his lips.

Silver Dragon Y/N Cookie: I would love to be your king, my queen. *kisses her hand* I should warn you, we dragons can be a little possesive about our romantical partner. Will that be a problem for you?

Golden Cheese: Not at all, my dear. In fact, I do feel honored that my partner shows his greed about me~

The Queen took her newfound King's hand between her's, coming closer to him and sharing their first kiss together.

And thus, the Golden Sovereign found her Silver Monarch. Their mutual love would shine stronger and brighter than the sunlight itself, forever and ever.

💛🩶

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer. 

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop  and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying. 

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForWriters, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much. 

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future. 

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about old man Price and the kinks he likes to indulge in.

Pairing: John Price x Top Male Reader

Content tags: 18+, MDNI, breeding kink, age gap

A/N: this is dedicated to a very special anonie, I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send in another request!

Thinking about price who thinks he’s unable to catch anyone eyes, aged and worn out by time, only to have you, the youngest recruit on base deeply infatuated with him, going as far as to even make Price your boyfriend.

He was very well aware that the two of you were in the honeymoon phase, that it was bound to end at some point. However for whatever reason, you couldn’t seem to get enough of your boyfriend, so much so you wake him up during the early hours of the morning with your head between his thighs, or you’d have Price ride you all night even when his cock has long gone soft and barley spurting cum. He’d even have to go as far as to keep you in his mouth just to keep you satisfied while he was recovering for another round because no matter how much you came you’d quickly get hard again.

And sure while he can chalk up your insatiable behavior to having a high sex drive, he can’t help but feel like you almost have a goal in mind: cumming in him so many times, having him keep a butt plug inside so none of it spills out, even going as far as using your fingers to check just to make sure none of it has spilled out.

It’s almost as if you’re hoping it’ll take, as if somehow you’d manage to put a child in him, even though it’s practically impossible because Price doesn’t even have a womb to begin with.

But the thought doesn’t seem to leave his head, and he continues thinking about how you are possibly trying to make him pregnant, an old man like him who’s already passed that age, how you, someone much younger than him, were possibly taking it up as a challenge to put a baby inside of him.

“You trying to get this old man pregnant?” He finally says after weeks of keeping the thought in his head, stark naked and laid out on your bed with a smirk on his face. You who’d been hovering over him freeze in place, embarrassed at the fact that your kink had been discovered but just as you’re about to explain yourself you feel his heels dig into your back as he pulls you closer to him. You feel his coarse mustache hair brushing against your ear, hot breath washing over your skin as he whispers the words “ then do it, come on, I’d like to see you try”

From then on Price shows you that he is more than happy to indulge in your little fantasies. Every time you’d be inside of him, he’d put a hand over his stomach telling you just how deep you are, how he can almost feel a bump, how maybe this time it’ll actually take which in turn would have you increasing your pace a determined look painting your face, with a goal set in mind; to put a baby inside of him.

He’d even be perched on your lap, instructing you on how to fuck him right, just to ensure you’d manage to put a baby inside him.

You ever got someone pregnant before boy? He’d say and of course he knows you haven’t but he’d stay instructing you while riding you, telling you how you’d have to go harder, deeper to reach his womb, praising you when you did well, when you did right.

“Just like that sweetheart, taking ah- taking such good care of me, I’m sure this time it’ll take,“

And riling you up when he notices you’re slacking

“Come on sweetheart, don’t you want to get this old man pregnant? Don’t you want to know how I’d look carrying your baby? Don’t you want everyone to know I’m yours?

That in itself would be enough for you to pick up the pace again, teeth sinking into his neck fingers digging into his hips while fucking him into the mattress till you’re sure that it’ll take.

You’d even go as far as to stay inside of him for as long as possible, just to be sure you’d say to his confused face and even though he'd huff at your response and roll his eyes at how ridiculous you were being, he can’t help but be endeared of his young recruit who seems to love him just as much as he loves you.

[chu-diaries]

100 days of mental healthcare: day 100/100

Well, it's over! I genuinely can't believe it's been 100 days since I started this challenge (even more than 100, since I skipped a day or two when I couldn't post).

For those who just arrived, I started this challenge in April, the day after my birthday, when I was really in bad health. I had severe panic attacks about 4 times a day, which made me unable to do anything. I dealt with constant suicidal thoughts, I barely slept anymore and I was spending everything I had on doctors, self-knowledge courses and therapies. I found myself with two options: the first was to invest in medications that would make me dependent and drugged, but that would fix my brain. However, there was a risk that I wouldn't get the dose or medication right in time and my situation would get worse. The second option was longer and more difficult: studying how my body, my brain and my limits worked, and then adjusting day after day what wasn't going well. You know that I chose this option and that I created the 100-day mental healthcare challenge to track my progress on this.

In these 100 days I learned a lot that I want to share here. As we are all unique and different human beings, you may not agree with what I applied in my life, but I ask for respect and empathy, because all of this saved me. Also, some points have a scientific basis in research I did and books I read.

1. mental health and nutrition

This was one of the first things I learned. I realized that when I was hungry, my body didn't give me clear signals. Probably due to my autism and ADHD, I was always disconnected from my body's needs and didn't know how to identify hunger (which I expected to be something like a growling in my stomach, but it never was that way). What actually happened was that, instead of hunger, I had a critical increase in my intrusive and suicidal thoughts, which made mealtimes much worse than they should have been. Our mind is more vulnerable when the body is not properly fed and hydrated, and many of us neurodivergent people will not feel hunger like neurotypicals do. Our body wants us to move to find food, so it sends us successive stimuli through our brains to fight for our lives and, well, eat. Some of these stimuli can be very negative and, instead of propelling us forward, they drain our energy and make us even more depressed, which also doesn't happen to the same extent with neurotypicals, who deal with this type of thing much better. To avoid this, I started eating every 3 hours, and not because a doctor told me to, but because I realized that my crises happened with this frequency. By eating regularly and preventively, my body stopped depending on this resource to nourish itself and I became more mentally stable.

2. mental healthcare and intestinal system

The gut is not our second brain for nothing. The health of our mind is completely connected to the health of our gut. You have certainly heard the phrase “you are what you eat” and it is true. What surprised me most in my studies was discovering that neurotypical and completely mentally healthy people develop mental disorders if their gut microbiota is altered. In other words, we must nourish our gut to maintain our mental health. The more diverse our microbiota is, the better our mental health will be. This means eating various foods per week, as colorful and natural as possible, because food industrialization is also partially responsible for the number of mental disorders that exist today.

3. mental healthcare and eating meat

This is a difficult topic, since I was a vegetarian for many years, but I want to share what I learned with you. The incidence of mental disorders is directly associated with the levels of omega 3, taurine and tryptophan. Omega 3 is a good fat and essential not only for maintaining memory, but for all of our cognitive functioning and, although it can be supplemented in a vegan way, it is not as accessible to everyone in the appropriate dosage as fish. Similarly, meat has high levels of taurine and tryptophan, which regulate anxiety and depression and improve sleep. For many years I did not eat meat, supplementing protein with vegetables and whey, and for all those years I suffered from anxiety and depression. I never imagined that my blood type would also suffer more from this lack of protein: blood type O struggles more to maintain mental health and ideal mood levels with vegetable proteins. It is a blood type that needs animal protein. Going back to eating meat was not an easy decision, but I decided to test it out: even though I ate a small amount of animal protein per day, my cognitive function improved a lot in these past 100 days. I became more mentally stable and stronger, my mood improved, my gut responded positively and suddenly the things that haunted me were no longer so big. I never thought that mental health and animal protein had any connection, but I was very surprised to discover that eating meat (or not) influences our mind.

4. mental healthcare and intrusive thoughts

Well, I studied psychology, but it was a theory that didn't deal with intrusive thoughts. In these 100 days I discovered this term and delved deep enough to understand that we all have intrusive thoughts. Neurotypicals deal with them better, while neurodivergents deal with them much worse. Unfortunately, I suffered a lot with these thoughts and suffered even more trying to understand why this was happening in my head. If you suffer from intrusive thoughts, start by understanding that they are not real and that they do not come from you consciously. An intrusive thought is something that crosses your mind and is similar to a scary radio station that you accidentally connected to. It does not belong to you. I learned to think (and I like this theory) that this is a way for the brain to prepare itself for various possibilities, even the most absurd and impossible ones. We are animals and our body wants to survive, so I understand that the brain explores various probabilities to always be prepared, no matter what happens. Of course, for anxious and depressed people this has the opposite effect and makes us want to die. Over time, you learn that you can’t control when these thoughts appear, but you can control how much power you give them. I deal with obsessive intrusive thoughts every day, but each day I’m becoming more and more able to not get emotionally involved with them. “It’s just a glitch in my brain,” I think, taking a deep breath.

5. mental healthcare and joy (which is worth more than solving problems)

I've always had a very fast-paced mind, cluttered with things and addicted to solving problems. In recent years I thought I should focus more on relaxing and opening up spaces in my mind, but I discovered that an empty mind can be treacherous for neurodivergent people. Our mind is, in fact, addicted to solving problems. That's how our species evolved and prospered. Our mind has an organizational structure that seeks, through connections and associations, to process past and future events, resolve pending issues and find solutions for what was left behind. We do this with everything, even with things that are not in our control. I spent a lot of my life trying to solve what was going on in my head and I was unsuccessful because I wasn't the one who created this situation. Although solving problems is a pattern of the mind, it is a sweet illusion. Many things are not actually solved, we only think they are. I discovered that the time I invested trying to solve mental problems that I did not create could be used to create happier foundations to strengthen myself. I learned that it is actually joy that heals, not obsessively thinking about the problem until it is solved. Every time I focused my energy on doing something good, laughing or contemplating nature, I became a little stronger and remembered who I am. I won't deny that I felt guilty - the cognitive rigidity of autism screamed at me that I was ignoring my problems and that I was creating a silly fantasy world. Even so, I fought to break out of this pattern. It is still difficult. But today I believe that I’m meant to be happy and that cultivating moments of joy makes life worthwhile.

6. mental healthcare and feeling useful

Feeling useful is essential for mental health. We all want to be part of something and be recognized as necessary. In these 100 days, I decided to resume some volunteer work within my community and I also opened a new company, with handmade products, so that I would also have the opportunity to produce something that was not only in the intellectual field (handicrafts are very good for those who suffer from anxiety). Having a dynamic routine in which you have an important role is great for mental health and your sense of self-authority. Also, getting in touch with other people's personal stories helps to decentralize our gaze from ourselves, which is very useful if you suffer from OCD. As tiring as it may be, the more diverse activities we do, the better our cognitive function becomes.

7. mental healthcare and moving the body

It's interesting that to take care of your mind, you need to get out of your head and move your body. Many of the tensions accumulated in our minds can be released by running, walking or playing some sport. It doesn't matter what it is, but move your body. We were not designed to stay still, but to do various strength, balance and endurance exercises. Our ancestors walked for days in search of shelter and food, and that's how our bodies evolved. Especially for those who suffer from anxiety, high-impact exercises not only help regulate your mood and release neurotransmitters, but also generate a stress spike that will do your body good for the rest of the day. When we trigger these spikes, our body answer quickly and creates new pathways to respond to stress, which helps us better deal with anxiety, depression, instructive thoughts, etc. Our sleep also improves, as we use our stored energy and tend to think less before going to sleep.

8. mental healthcare and sleep hygiene

I have always tried to force myself to be silent. I forced myself to meditate for many years, without much success, but after the panic attacks returned, meditating and being silent were torture. It was as if I made room for all my inner demons to dance in my mind and I always felt worse. I recently discovered that neurodivergent people struggle more with silence and that it does them a lot of good to distract their minds with sounds, images and other stimuli that allow them to emotionally engage with something real and outside of themselves. I see that it is a controversial topic, but I no longer believe in sleep hygiene without screens and complex content. My best nights of sleep were those in which I distracted myself with something until I fell asleep or listened to someone talking until I fell asleep. So if you want to test what works best for you, know your limits and do not blindly obey the orders that someone has set. Maybe you work better at dawn, maybe you only need 6 hours of sleep, maybe you are different from the average. Your life's work is to discover yourself and be true to it.

9. mental healthcare and developing self-authority

This was very important to me. I have always had low self-esteem and I have always believed in others more than in myself. I sought answers and cures for what I suffered from various doctors and therapists, but all of this only made my situation worse. I became dependent on diagnoses, consultations and sessions that never really helped me. At a certain point I decided that I would educate myself on the subjects that bothered me. I studied, and studied a lot, about psychology, neurology, neuroscience, nutrition and about the functioning of the body as a whole. Today I no longer accept any diagnosis about myself because I have developed my own authority. I am the authority when it comes to myself, you know? I don't need others to tell me what I am feeling because now I know what it is and where it comes from. I also know, fortunately, how to solve it. When I go to a doctor or have an exam, I know what I am investigating and what I need to achieve. It is very sad that today medicine is just a search for money and that you only get good care if you pay a lot for it, so it is important to get educated about yourself so you won’t fall into standardized speeches that will lead you to the ever-increasing consumption of pharmaceuticals and drugs without, in fact, looking at the cause of the problem.

10. mental healthcare and time

There are things that only time can heal. There is nothing like letting time pass. A few months ago, all I could think about was how I wanted to end my life and it was tormenting to think about living for even one more day. Waiting for time to pass was difficult, but I was rewarded. Time has a way of overcoming some things if you allow yourself to create new memories, new connections and new laughs. If you are suffering a lot, wait a few more hours. Live one more day. Let time pass and life bring you better things.

See you guys again on my next challenge (maybe a productivity one?). Thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged my previous posts! 💕

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 12

Abby didn’t enjoy her first morning as a woman with no bladder or bowel control. She let out an ear-piercing shriek when she woke up to find the big-breasted ‘Nanny’ from the day before bending over her with a finger slipped inside the leg-band of her soaking wet night-time diaper.

“Don’t be frightened, sweetie,” the woman cooed. “Nanny’s just checking your nappy. It looks like someone made lots of wee-wees during beddy-byes, didn’t she? Yes she did! Yes she did! Wittle Abby-wabby’s got a very soggy bum-bum!”

Abby felt herself burning with humiliation. “You can’t tawk to me wike dat!” she squealed, sitting up in bed and feeling her clammy wet diaper squishing unpleasantly beneath her. It was only then that she realised her thumb was in her mouth. She yanked it out at once.

The woman tittered. “You’re a big baby who can’t even wipe her own bottom, sweetie,” she said. “I can talk to you however I like.” Her motherly expression turned a little more sinister. “And if I don’t like your tone, I could leave you in that nasty nappy all day, no matter how wet and messy you make it. Is that what you want?”

Abby went cold. She couldn’t change herself. If she didn’t do what this bitch said then she’d have to stay in this disgusting thing for who knows how long – and she needed to keep her mind on the challenge today, not on the state of her pants. This would be the final one, the most important of all, her last and only chance to get back to normal and avoid the Magician’s sick, twisted punishments. And if she won, she’d get three wishes. Anything she wanted!

Her lower lip stuck itself out in a pout. “Sowwy Nanny,” she mumbled meekly.

Nanny smirked. “Good girl. Now let’s get that yucky-wucky diapee off your cute little tushy!”

Abby’s second nappy change as an adult was no less humiliating than her first. Nanny took her sweet time, making sure to coo at her in sickeningly sweet baby talk and tickle her tummy at random intervals. “P-U!” she cried theatrically, pinching her nose as she held up Abby’s sodden, yellowed diaper. “This icky thing is absolutely soaked! What a little pee-pee pants you are, Abby! I’d never have guessed you used to be a sexy, grown-up woman. You look just like a smelly little baby to me!”

Abby cringed and clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of Nanny’s taunts as the older woman got to work wiping her clean with a pack of baby wipes.

“And here’s a nice, new nappy,” Nappy said happily, slipping one under Abby’s bottom, “for the next time you need to make a pee-pee, or drop a stinky load in your pants.”

Abby couldn’t prevent a pathetic, whimpering sob from leaving her lips as Nanny finished taping a fresh diaper around her waist. But at least it was over. Nanny helped her off the bed and got her dressed – tugging a pair of white, semi-translucent tights over her bulging diaper-butt and pulling a tight pink t-shirt over her bare chest. Her tits were constrained almost painfully in the tiny thing. A pair of frilly socks, black schoolgirl shoes, and a bonnet later, and Abby was fully dressed for the day.

Nanny escorted her, toddling, to the kitchen, where Becky and the Magician were already seated. In front of Becky, and in front of the large highchair that was awaiting Abby, were two enormous bowls full of baby food. Feeling sick, but knowing there was much worse at stake, Abby allowed herself to be sat in the highchair and fed the bland-tasting mush. She barely even fussed as Nanny pushed spoonful after spoonful against her lips, smearing her lower face. She was too busy worrying about what the final challenge would be.

Becky, too, was nervous. She spooned her meal into her mouth by herself. At least she didn’t need someone to feed her, she thought, looking up at the mess the busty woman was getting all over her fellow contestant’s pretty face. She didn’t want to end up like that. It was bad enough being incontinent. She turned red as she remembered how she’d woken up that morning, right in the middle of messing her nappy. How could she ever think of herself as an adult if she was doing that all the time?! She couldn’t stand the thought of spending even one more day in diapers! She didn’t want to be an overgrown, pants-filling baby anymore! She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, spend the rest of her life waddling around in smelly Pampers like some horrid brat in daycare. She forced herself to get through the bowl of baby food, even knowing it would bring about a messy nappy sooner rather than later – it would be the last, she told herself firmly.

Once Becky was finished eating, and Nanny was slipping the last few spoonfuls of mush into Abby’s mouth, the Magician got to his feet. His handsome smile was more terrifying than ever. “Alright girls,” he said, the awful bright light dancing once again in his eyes. “It’s time for the fourth and final challenge. Three silly young ladies have already headed off to live their new, and much altered lives, and now it’s time to find out which of you will be joining them in their fates, and which will earn herself three wishes. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that unless you win, the changes you have at the moment will be permanent.” He savoured the last word, and Abby and Becky both shivered. “The final challenge,” he continued, “is very simple. The two of you will have a competition to see who can act the most babyish over the next few hours. The one who I decide has been the silliest, most ridiculous overgrown baby will win my little game.”

Abby and Becky stared at him wide-eyed, their mouths open. They could only win their adulthood back by outcompeting the other at being a stupid baby?!

The Magician cocked his head at them. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, grinning.

The two young women looked at one another, and then Becky immediately got off her chair and dropped to her hands and knees, babbling in meaningless baby talk. “Goo goo gah bah bah!” she prattled, dribbling down her chin. She started crawling over to the Magician.

Feeling mortified, Abby imitated Becky and hastily extracted herself from her highchair and sank onto all fours too. “Gah gah buh buh buh!” she babbled, drooling down her own chin and crawling towards the Magician herself. She could see the evil satisfaction in his face as he watched them approach.

Becky reached him first. She plopped back on her diapered bottom and looked up at him with her best, desperate, puppy-dog eyes. She raised her hands into the air and made little clenching movements. “Up!” she squealed. “Uppies, Dada!”

The Magician laughed delightedly. He reached down and, with surprising strength, lifted the babbling baby-woman into his arms, settling her on his hip and holding her tightly against himself. Then he looked appraisingly down at Abby, who had just reached his feet.

Abby sat back on her nappy, and was about to mimic Becky again when she stopped. That wouldn’t work. She couldn’t just do whatever Becky was doing – she’d lose for sure that way. She’d have to do something else. A loud, childish temper tantrum seemed like a good idea, as if she was jealous of Becky getting held instead of her. The sick freak would undoubtedly like that. She hated the Magician. She hated him more than anyone else in the world for what he’d done to her, for what he was making her do. But he was dangerous, and she’d play along with his perverted fantasies if it meant winning his insane game. She was a little girl who wanted her Daddy’s undivided attention, she told herself, and that stupid little brat Becky was stealing him away from her!

She hardly had to pretend. The changes the Magician had made to her the day before had ruined her ability to control her emotions like an adult. Angry that Becky was already beating her, and terrified of the consequences if she lost, the tears came in no time at all. Her bottom lip wobbled beneath her thumb, and Abby started to wail. She scrunched up her beautiful face, tears pouring down her cheeks, sobbing hysterically and taking great heaving breaths as she pounded her free hand petulantly against the floor. “WAAAAAAAAAH!” she wailed. “I WANT MY DADA!”

Suddenly, she felt his powerful arm scooping her up, supporting her under her thickly padded bottom and holding her close against his chest, just as he was doing with Becky. “Shhhh,” the Magician hushed her gently, and Abby actually felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine at the unexpected gentleness of his voice. “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. There, there… Daddy’s here, little one. Daddy’s got you.” The Magician carried them out of the kitchen and further into the house, into a brightly decorated playroom littered with baby toys.

He set them down on the soft, carpeted floor, and Abby immediately got to work. With some difficulty, she yanked off her tight t-shirt and started bouncing and shaking her boobies, giggling like she’d found her new favourite toys. She could feel the Magician’s eyes on her, and she blew a dribbly raspberry that made a line of drool to spill down onto her bare breasts.

Becky started to strip as well, but her adult clothes were harder to remove while she was sitting on the floor. An idea occurred to her, and she looked up, pouting at the Magician. “Wanna be nakie giwl!” she cried.

Chuckling, the Magician knelt down and started taking off Becky’s jeans and tank top, until she too was dressed in nothing but her nappy, her perky tits wobbling stupidly on her chest as she crawled around the room playing with the infantile toys.

They played for some time, working as hard as they could to keep the looks of childish idiocy on their faces while they bashed blocks together, shook rattles, and snuggled with teddy bears. Abby didn’t even have to fake it – after only a few shakes of a rattle she was staring at it avidly, cooing and gurgling, utterly entranced. It sounded so pretty and tinkly! Pretty, tinkly sound… She might have sat there all day playing with her rattle, had she not gotten the sudden, overpowering urge to shove it in her mouth. She came to her senses the moment before it happened, blushing scarlet at the thought of how enamoured she’d been by this stupid baby toy (she had to get back to normal), but there was nothing she could do to stop her body cramming the rattle between her lips and sucking on it enthusiastically. Her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure.

Right at that moment, Abby’s bladder released without warning, and she felt her diaper getting soggier and soggier beneath her bottom as she pissed into it helplessly. It felt revolting, but she made sure to keep a blank, babyish look on her face as the front of her nappy discoloured. The Magician was surely watching for any sign of un-babyish behaviour, and babies didn’t care if they went pee-pee. She popped the rattle out of her mouth and let out another stream of ridiculous baby babble. But then, as she started crawling over to a large, fluffy teddy bear, something else happened. Something more than pee. For the second time in her adult life, Abby’s bowel’s rumbled into action beyond her control. Before she could really register what was about to happen, it was already happening. Her mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ shape as an enormous yucky mess filled her diaper, making her padded pants sag halfway down her thighs with the weight of her load.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, exactly the same thing was happening to Becky. She was more used to the sensation of her pants filling with poop without warning, but it didn’t make it any less disgusting. Still, as poo-poo filled her nappy, she was able to keep her face relatively blank and dopey, as though she’d barely even realised what had happened. A grown woman who couldn’t even tell when she messed herself – the Magician would love that, she was sure.

Although she was trying as hard as she could, unlike Becky, Abby wasn’t able to keep the look of revulsion off her face. She knew the Magician must have seen. Babies didn’t think sitting in dirty diapers was disgusting. They didn’t care. She had to do something to make up for her mistake, and quickly. She had no idea when the challenge might end! Putting on her best bratty, mischievous face, Abby grinned up at the Magician. She hated him with all her heart. She knew she would never be able to look at herself the same way in the mirror after what she was about to do, but if it meant avoiding a terrible, terrible fate, it would be worth it. She sat back firmly on her full nappy, feeling the horrible mess in her pants squish against her bottom. It took all her self-control not to gag. Then, with a moronic giggle, she started bouncing up and down on her bum, squealing loudly and clapping her hands.

Becky watched, but didn’t move. She could see the Magician looking at her, waiting to see whether she’d copy Abby. But she couldn’t… she couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t stand it! The mess beneath her bottom was so disgusting! She couldn’t bounce up and down on it like some mucky baby! Those were the worst kind of diapers she had to change at daycare, the ones where the awful little urchins decided to make the mess in their pants even messier, and make the job of cleaning them up an absolute nightmare for her. The other daycare workers, the stupid women who’d chosen to look after smelly, snot-nosed brats as their whole career, actually thought it was cute when the babies “made bouncies”. But Becky found it nauseating, and the idea of doing it herself was out of the question.

“All right, little ones,” the Magician said suddenly. “I’ve made my decision.”

They both stopped what they were doing and looked up at him fearfully. The Magician took each of them by the hand and pulled them to their feet. The two women stood there, tits out, legs pushed awkwardly apart by their full, sagging nappies, waiting for his judgement. The evil man looked at Abby, who felt her stomach lurch horribly, and then he turned his gaze to Becky. Abby was trembling. Was he going to tell Becky that she’d lost, or that she’d won?

“Sorry Becky,” the Magician said, “but I’ve decided little Abby was the most babyish, and that means, unfortunately, that you’re the loser.”

Abby took a deep breath. Wonderful relief was flooding through her body.

Becky, however, was shaking. “No…” she whispered, so quietly that Abby barely heard her.

“I don’t know what you were planning to do with your life, Becky,” said the Magician pleasantly, advancing on the quivering girl. “Maybe you were planning to go to law school, or train as a doctor, or maybe you just wanted to live an average life, but I’m afraid whatever it was, it won’t be happening now. You’ll be spending the rest of your days as a diaper-dependent adult toddler, a grown woman who stomps about with a smelly, loaded nappy swinging about between her legs. You’ll be dependent on real adults to check and change you, of course… and I know just the place to send you.” He waved his hand lazily, and a canary yellow frock with a smiling cartoon bee on the front appeared on Becky’s body.

Slowly, stiffly, Becky looked down at her new clothes, and recognised the uniform of the Buzzy Bees baby class at the daycare where she worked. Her poopy diaper was peeking out of the bottom.

Becky lost her mind. She started screaming at the top of her lungs, clutching her head in her hands, her eyes wide and horrified.

Abby stared at the woman in horror, but the Magician just chuckled, as if the sight of the twenty-year-old woman’s mental breakdown was merely amusing to him. Becky looked utterly mad. She was screaming inarticulately, and staring straight ahead of her, as though she could see something they couldn’t – as if she was looking at her own future laid out in front of her, a life of stinky nappies and baby food and naptimes, a life stuck in nursery school forever, trapped in the one place she’d wanted desperately to get away from. In a way, she was getting what she wanted – she’d never have to change another dirty diaper again. She’d be too busy filling them. Becky screamed and screamed and screamed.

“That’s enough of your little tantrum, missy,” said the Magician, still sounding amused. “Time for you to go and join your new peers.” He snapped his fingers, and Becky vanished.