#prologue in progress woop woop

[root-clan]

experimented with different formats for the upcoming comic! Guess this could be classified as concept art

here are all the adults of Rootclan! (for now) :]

[calexo]

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

[ilys00ga]

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

PROLOGUE → (FIRST CHAPTER) → FIRST CHAPTER

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you're in the wind, I'm in the water.. somebody's son, somebody's daughter..

OR: Sirens and humans were made to be at war with one another. To sear their deadly bond, not with love, not with wealth, not with rules and restrictions... but with flowing blood and torn flesh. That's what history says. That's what's bound to be.

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc.

: ̗̀➛ tags: mute human!yoongi, farmer!yoongi, yoongi has long hair (dday era length, or longer, u do u), half siren half human!reader, reader is obsessed (almost yandere-ish (we'll see as the story progresses)), she's lost and unhappy as well, got her issues (totally not projecting here), forbidden love and relationships, middle ages/old times era theme, supernatural, slow burn (I tried), strangers to lovers (?), fluff, angst, bloody or dark themes. more tags could be added eventually.

: ̗̀➛ A/N: first chappie woop woop! thank u!!! for the lovely comments I got on the prologue. honestly? I'm kinda nervous about how yall will take this fic starting from now, but! as I said before, please give it a try, I'll do my best.. 🥹 this is my first time making a fic like this one. be patient with me loves. there we go now. enjoy <333 don't forget to leave ur feedback, whatever it is, I'll take it all!!!

★ MOODBOARD.

★ MASTERLIST.

I could feel it all.

The heavy downpour that fell over my head, my shoulders and everything else around me. Felt it as it soaked through my entirely drenched being and bled into my cold flesh, as if trying to reach my pounding heart and sooth it down.

Keep going.

I could feel my legs trembling like they were not attached to the human body that was carrying me. The sand that clung to my feet as soon as I slipped out of the ocean waves, mournful at my departure, minutes before that, turned into wet, cold soil and stuck to my feet, creeping up between my toes and underneath my nails.

Don't stop. Keep running.

I could feel the ground shaking underneath me with each booming crack of thunder. A flash of lightning struck the angry sky above every few minutes passing by. I was able to get a clear glimpse of the path of trees, grass and rocks in front of me for brief, spasmodic seconds, before everything fell completely dark again.

They'll get you. Don't stop.

With frail legs and rapid breaths of air, I sped up my pace and ran as fast as my human legs could go, while my heart felt as though it could jump right up my throat and run ahead of me to my aimed destination.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop even when I could spot the brick house I was in dire need of seeing, of setting foot into.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop until I made it to the rag that laid on its naked concrete front step.

I tried to quickly open the door, but it didn’t budge. Tried thumping my fists against its wet, cold wooden surface, the name of the woman I yearned to reunite with slipping out of my mouth naturally, nothing happened.

Stop. Think.

Everything was too dark and too still to think properly. The pitter patter of the rain drops against the muddy ground was overwhelmingly loud in my ears.

All I could think about was locking myself in that small house and never stepping out of it ever again.

The creaking of the door cut my string of thoughts short as it was pulled open in front of me. I couldn't make her features out in the dark, but relief washed over me once I could smell that familiar scent and hear that dear voice to my heart asking who was banging on her door at god knows what hour in the night.

Stop. We're safe. Breathe.

Several minutes after that, the scent of fresh herbal tea tickled my nostrils as I made my way down the stairs, clad in dry, warm sleep clothing.

Warm, safe.

The wooden steps squeaked everytime I put my weight on them, which almost made me giggle like a child getting lifted and thrown in the air, then caught in a warm embrace again. But the heaviness of my body, the way it felt wobbly and unsteady as I dragged it across the first floor, and the reality of my life as it fell down on my being over and over again, it all snatched the will to giggle out of me.

We can't go back.

Deeba was stirring tea on the cast iron stove. A simple act that evoked images from the past to my mind, all the times she made me different types of herbal tea and we went to drink them at the beach, or by some lake. Before everything changed and I never stepped foot on land again.

In shorter, simpler terms, Deeba was my father's blood sister, my aunt.

In longer, more in depth terms, Deeba was my only family ashore. The only one left of—or more accurately, the only one I was ever aware of—my human bloodline and the person who took my hand and guided me through the convolution of my human self. Despite and despite and despite.

She was a woman of young features despite being in her late fifties. With her jet black hair that had some of its stubborn front strands clinging onto paleness she liked to cover with head scarves, and her usual long dresses, she always had that tidied up look of hers.

Due to the nature of her profession, some people of the humble village referred to her as a mystical witch—which is, for the most part, something she often laughed at and enjoyed entertaining by decorating the house with things like crystals, brooms, a big cauldron used for cooking purposes, along with a number of other “witch items".

She was that kind of woman, one that held galaxies in her hands and a heart bigger than a blue whale, but is seen as the mistress of the devil himself.

But at the end of the day, people, no matter what color their hearts were, they always crawl back to the devil and seek him out. One way or another, by all means necessary.

But Deeba was no such thing. She was the sweetest person with the kindest heart, even with that stern glare of hers that never left her face, and that gruff voice of hers that showed no trace of playfulness. A healer who loved transmuting plants and different kinds of goods into powerful, healing remedies in that little village. Who has an almost deific amount of knowledge and wisdom, not bothering to care about the whispers and the what ifs of the villagers around her.

“Come sit.” She said, once I made it to the dining room, her voice still as deep and unwavering as I could remember. There was one lit candle on the large wooden table. It served to lend me some sense of company while she was occupied there.

As I plopped down on a chair, she put a cup in front of me, before moving to sit on the other side of the table with her own one in hand. I cupped mine in my hold, its warmth kissed my skin as I took a moment to watch the steam rise from the rim.

When I was a child, I always wanted to dive into a good, hot cup of tea. Something about the way it looked was very inviting to my young brain, back then.

“Nothing changed here. You didn’t change at all..” I dared to break the silence with these hushed words. “I missed you.”

Deeba’s reply came a little later, her voice more gentle than before, but still holding onto its nonchalant air: “I thought she'd never allow you a foot ashore again. What happened?”

I stayed silent for a little more, thinking over my words. “Nothing in particular.. Why? You don’t want me here anymore?”

“Don’t get all ridiculous now.” She gave a light huff. “You’re still as lippy as ever.”

A faint smile made its way up my mouth, my shoulders raising in a quick shrug. “You always secretly found it entertaining, I know of that.”

She continued to eye me up in silence, like she was trying to fish something out of my skin as I continued to avoid that inevitable question.

Her gaze gave up on studying me as it shifted to my wrist, where my skin wore the royal siren symbol. The very tattoo that put me and my family in a different category than the rest of the sirens across all oceans. She then reached out to hold my arm in a gentle grasp and observed it thoroughly.

“Alright. I've been searching for an assistant lately, but none of the ones I have found were fit for my liking.” Her finger traced the lines of the dark shape as she continued speaking steadily. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to help me around until I figure out what to do.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘then what’?” Her voice sounded too fixed and firm for my question. “This is your house.”

Deeba withdrew her hands and stood up from her chair. Having spent enough precious years of my life with her, I knew she had so much to say and so much to ask, but didn't push any further. How could she, after all that happened, starting from the moment I was born up to the moment I sat there before her, anyway?

Nonetheless, a wave of relief washed over me entirely as she brushed off my unspoken worries.

“I have something to show you. Finish your tea, it’ll soothe you.” With those words, she walked out of the door before I could even give a reaction.

I found myself all alone in that warm kitchen. I hated silence. The silence deep in the ocean, the silence of the world around me when I'm no longer living a symphony with it…

Silence wasn't gentle with me at all. I sat there with the rim of the cup between my lips, waiting for Deeba to come back down again. The sound of raindrops hitting the roof over my head battled with the loudness of the wild thoughts flooding my skull once again and nibbling at my brain.

The walls kept staring at me in a deafening, dead air, until the door of the house flung violently open, pulling me out of my head as it collided with the wall in a thud. Several footsteps followed that as they rushed into the house.

I lifted my head and froze in my place at the sight.

There, only a few steps away from where I stood, I saw the moon again.

We found him.

Something inside of me switched in an instant. Days went on and I’ve been thinking about him. The memory of him on that boat, so close yet so, so far away from me, played in my head like a piercing cry. But then there he was, standing at the entrance of the dining room.

However, instead of being the moon of the daytime, calm and serene, he looked frantic. Like a school of sardines running for its life when a whale is looking for its lunch.

He was drenched from head to toe. His long hair stuck to his skin and dark eyes searched around the place as if he was looking for something particular. A chill slipped its way down my spine when our gazes locked together.

Say something. Do something.

He scurried over towards me, eating up the distance between us. We stood face to face. He started moving his hands in precise, hurried movements. I stared with my mouth slightly open, perplexed and speechless as ever.

It seemed like he was repeating the same movements over and over again, frowning and huffing at my lack of response.

Say something.

He moved to tap on the table beside us repeatedly. I still couldn't break free from the intensity of his eyes yet.

"I- Sorry-?" was all I managed to utter, and I wanted to scream, both from the intensity of the moment and the way he was looking at me.

If I could describe it, I’d say it was dark, enraged and agitated. It held an incredible amount of despair and urgency in it, a contradiction that spoke to my very soul and begged for something I wasn’t even sure what it was.

The moon is upset.

"I don't understand…" I tried again, once I managed to find my voice.

The tension in my body dwindled to a faint clench in my stomach once I heard Deeba coming back down the stairs. To think that the mere presence of a person could bring quiet to chaos in an instance..

"Goodness, Yoongi. What brings you here at this hour?" Despite its unwavering nonchalance, her voice was layered with concern, cutting the string of my thoughts short.

It was obvious that her presence wasn't a safety ring to me alone, because the man– Yoongi?– heaved a sigh that seemed so incredibly relieved as soon as he saw her too.

He faced her and started moving his hands again. I could recognize some movements from a few seconds ago, and I stood there watching the rest of the scene unfold before me, feeling like a complete outsider.

Deeba seemed to understand whatever was happening immediately. She, ever so calmly, said: "Alright, calm down. I'm coming with you at this instant."

With confident, swift steps, she moved to grab a dark pouch bag that was sitting on one of the chairs, tossed in some bottles that'd been neatly lined up on a wooden shelf on the wall, then turned to instruct me in a clear tone, "I have to go see a patient. It's too late, don't wait for me and go to sleep."

I couldn't even protest, she was already gone, alongside the man. I watched him step out of the house with a spring in his legs. Something inside of me wished he stayed a bit longer instead.

I let out a sigh and put the cup of tea in the sink, just like Deeba taught me growing up.

My body felt so heavy. My legs, still feeling like they didn't belong to me, carried me to the attic upstairs. The room in which I spent most of the time as a child everytime I visited the land.

Standing in the middle of the small room, nothing changed in it. Nothing was special about it, to begin with, but it was always my special place. The place in which my younger brain felt as though it could conquer the seven oceans and the massive lands one of those days.

There, between those four walls and the small window that overlooked my vast, blue home in the distance, nothing ever mattered. Not who I was, who I was supposed to be, nor what was expected of me to be. None of that mattered in there. It was just me and my bed. My book shelves and my father's picture, framed and placed on the small bedside table.

I, of course, didn't forget to talk to the moon that night. As I gazed up at the sky through the window, I also thanked the bright stars for bringing him to my path again. For not rendering my prayers mere whispers into the air.

- [to be continued...]

[chillwildwave]

TWK AU / Antares’ Angst

Sooooooo, um, guys, guess what? *inserts drum roll*

I’M FINALLY GIVING MY STARBOY SOME ANGST!!!!!!! *woop woop*

Go Wave, go Wave, go Wave! Okay, okay just pulling your leg but I always though that giving Antares angst would be a bad thing (idk why but don’t ask) but actually it’s quite a great idea since this could give a purpose of the whole theme of the rewrite.

You know, I was especially intrigued by @oh-shtars depiction of StarBoy aka Sueño aka the most tragic boy ever written in the fandom, okay yeah, you get the point that he’s tragic because he’s been under Magnifico’s wing for a long time so yeah, I don’t know if Antares would follow the same path but I guarantee that it will be quite different from a few of the star boys, so Sueño, if you’re seeing this, you’re not alone, Antares has tragedy too! Sooooo, angst buds forever, right?

*Anyways, on with the show!* 👐

So we know in the rewrite, Antares plays a key role where he guides Asha on a journey to find the dark truth that the royal couple had been hiding all this time to give the wishes back to the people, but also, you’ve seen that Antares’s personality is energetic and naive like Aster but unlike him, he lies a lot, like, he lies about everything, this is only in the beginning of the rewrite but as the story progresses, he learns to tell the truth but this is an angst post, so I’m going to write about why Antares lies and why his naivety is affected in the whole plot…

Prepare For Sympathy!!!!! 👹

So the Kingdom of Rosas is depicted as a dystopia where people are manipulated into believing the king and queen have the same power as the stars of Starfell, however, Starfell is depicted as a utopia where everything is just about perfect for every single star, as a tradition, every 4 days, when a star turns 18, they get given a crystal which is actually a little seed that goes inside their brooch as used to use their magic to grant wishes for their people, that tradition has been held since King Xanthos entered the realm.

Speaking of Xanthos, as a child, Antares looked up to Xanthos as his father figure ever since he combined clouds and cosmic dust as explained in the prologue, he was described as someone who is calm and collected and was always willing to let the stars have a chance of pursuing their own path and he’s also a master of the star ceremony, he always chose the right stars to go down to grant people’s greatest desires.

Antares always dreamt of being with the humans, he always sensed curiousity of what the world would look like from Starfell, so much so that he mostly creates human style sculptures using his magic (in the style of Ember from Elemental), as much as Xanthos appreciated his curiousity, he said that Antares was only a young star and that he knew tge dangers of the human world since the king and queen unleashed power to rule Rosas, causing such outrage from Starfell, as it would release a black hole, and Xanthos wanted to make sure that Antares was safe, he knew as well, but this didn’t stop him from curiousity.

And ever since the black hole came around, Antares didn’t seem to bother, neither did the rest of the stars, since they though they lived that perfect life in Starfell, but one fateful day changed everything…

On the day of Teletì (ceremony in Greek) which is an annual star ceremony as stated before, there was a green rope aimed right towards Antares, poor him, he was close to being caught by that green light, but luckily, Xanthos covered him with his power, even though his power was far too strong, the couple’s magic was far more stronger than ever imagined, but it was much stronger to tarnish one of the stars, so with the couple’s power, they chanted a mysterious spell that PIERCED Xanthos’ seed… In front of Antares, with the other stars hiding in place.

From there, he was already close, close to death, Antares held him in his arms, tearfully begging for Xanthos to answer him, until he saw his whole body transforming into loose ribbons, drifting themselves apart from one another, announcing his dissolve into existance, distraught, Antares wept while he watched Xanthos’s body drift away up into the dark night, as ribbons and angel wings.

Antares’ tears were so strong and powerful that every time he cried in a tragic event, a golden tart would land on a cloud as it turned black and was replaced with vines which would be a metaphor of danger and low-self-esteem, and when that happened, the stars hid even further, claiming that Antares must’ve came from the Black hole, this was a major threat in his lifetime, the first time he was called a monster, not a star, not a star…

Ever since that event, Xanthos’ daughter, Evangeline decided to take over as Queen of Starfell, but this time, it was where she didn’t allow any star to go down to the human world because of what happened to her father, which was suspected when the couple unleashed a power so destructive, it could destroy any star’s inner being, so she was strict and overprotective but always reliable on keeping her habitat safe.

And as for Antares, that’s why he lies so much, it is because his entire life he thought was a blessing but after the infamous event with Xanthos’s death, he was blamed by everyone because of a secret power with his golden tears, resulting into faking a smile and pretending everything’s okay but he knows he wants to be safe, he wants to find a home where he can feel comfortable, so when Asha wished on a star, he darted down to Earth and the story goes on from there!

Thanks for reading!!

Also some sketches I did when coming up with the idea since I wanted to join the angst table, it looks like Sueño isn’t the only one.

The Teletí ceremony.

Xanthos’ death.

Antares feeling low self esteem after Xanthos’ death.

Plus a bonus for the fandom as well, cuz why not, just me and Flicker witnessing Sueño and Antares crying as he’s introduced to the angst team.

@annymation @uva124 @flicklikesstuff @signed-sapphire @your-ne1ghbor @tumblingdownthefoxden @thisnameisnotspokenfor @rascalentertainments @rylxdreams @ceyasstuff @frogcoven88 @mythartist21 @spectator-zee @peapeapeapa @ryoli @hopeyarts @emillyverse @gracebethartacc @gracebeth3604

[utdrlibrary]

Duotale by @ask-duotale-b2fc

Author: Ask-duotale-b2fc

Summary: An au where it’s a different child who is the 7th child - and two of them at that.

Characters: Oc, Chara

Status: In Progress

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 152

Hello, it's Saturday! That means I'm doing an update on the stories that are currently in the works. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 1 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 16th of November. Chapter 2 is finished and will be posted on 23rd of November aka next Thursday. There is a sneak-peek into the chapter at the bottom of this post. Chapter 3 is in a complicated situation - it was supposed to be the last chapter, but it already reached a word count to match the previous chapters and is at a perfect point to end it, should I want to. So, I have two options: 1. I let this chapter be longer than the other ones and keep the fic to three chapters total. 2. I end the chapter at the natural cut off it's currently at and simply do a chapter 4 to finish the fic with. I'm thinking that option 1 will be Plan A, and I'll go with it if the fic gets finished in roughly 500 more words. If, however, the fic keeps going to a 1000 more words, I'll do a chapter 4 and just flesh it out until it matches the other chapters in length. In short: Good news, more story one way or another, woop!

—–

I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will have at least three chapters, maybe four. The second chapter is almost done, despite the first one not being written yet. I'm actually not sure if this fic will end up being Stobotnik aside from Stone being Big Gay as usual, cause Robotnik is being very aroace right now and I don't know if he'll give Stone a chance or not, as that is not really the point of the fic. Anyway, I wrote a bit more since the last update, but not enough to finish the chapter, as I focused on Cuddles.

—–

SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or I might cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon, so you know, could easily have two fics.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

Now the actual progress. I have the first two chapters written (first is a prologue, so about half the length) and the third one is now 3/4s done thanks to a successful writing hour today. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (somewhere in the early middle, but like, are they chapters 5 and 6 or 7 and 8, nobody knows).

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Every overnight business trip or remote mission involved nightly cuddling these days. There weren't very many of them, as most of Doctor Robotnik's work could be done remotely or the mandatory meetings and frankly pointless presentations were held at the Virginia headquarters, but every now and then travel was a necessary evil.

What had changed between the last trip and the current one was that Stone had found himself holding the doctor in a different regard. As in, he now had a massive, soul consuming, heart palpitations inducing crush on the man, and that was terrifying.

As he dragged their luggage in, he forced himself to remember the doctor's words from the very first time they had this arrangement: purely platonic. Non-intimate.

While the focus had been on Stone keeping his hands to himself and his pants untented, surely that included romantic notions too.

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

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[diox-malgrove-appreciation-blog]

Character analysis of Rita (also kind of talks a lot about Charles and Rita's relationship and Charles being a misogynist. Also talks about Diox. Major spoilers.) Lmao not me analysing my book as if it was written by someone else - “I can infer” bro I literally wrote this shit. I should know what I was implying. Anyway, in my defence, I forgor.

Read at your own risk.

Seriously please only read this if you’re prepared to have most of the plot completely ruined for you. 

First impressions of Rita:

Rita first appears in the second chapter of book 1, when she's getting her makeup done by her makeup artist. The first exchange she has is with her daughter, Alana, when she tells Alana "your dress is crumpled". Alana immediately criticises this: her mother's obsession with clothing and fashion, and, in extension, her seemingly materialistic nature, and hints at the cold, distant nature of her relationship with her mother, as Rita hasn’t even said ‘Good morning’, which Alana considers to be a normal greeting. But is Rita really as materialistic as she seems, or is it all a facade? Rita is Charles' wife, and in my opinion, it is Charles who is obsessed with appearances, from his sparkly suits, to his obsession with hair gel. And this extends to how he treats his wife: he expects his wife to look pretty for him. And Rita, being a master of deception, plays this role rather well, even faking an interest in fashion shows. She plays into the stereotype that feminine people can't be intelligent, something which I believe is an opinion that Charles himself holds (though he, in his opinion, is both extremely intelligent and handsome). Honestly Charles is kind of misogynistic and this is evident with how he treats his wife, but I won't go into that now. I might mention in more in my Charles post, if I make one (though he is a key villain so I probably should).

The next bit of analysis I'm going to do will centre around chapter 23 of book 1. This chapter is from Charles' point of view. Spoilers: Alana has just faked her death but Rita and Charles believe her death to be real.

The first thing I'm going to analyse is Rita's "posh Lumsaynian accent" and Charles claim that he had chosen "a very intelligent wife". Now, this may seem to contradict what I said in the first paragraph, I don't know. And it's quite odd for Charles to say this - unless what he means is that she's intelligent, for a woman. Woop Charles being misogynistic again. His wife is educated; her Lumsaynian accent is likely because she grew up, or at least studied, in Lumsaynia, a place known for it's university (the only University on Everghast) and its overall focus on academics. So it's clear Charles wanted to pick the finest wife for himself, but obviously he still sees himself as the more intelligent and more good-looking one. He's that self centred.

Next, when Diox says that Alana is dead, Rita lets out a "shuddering sob" and it is implied that she ends up crying quite a lot, as she smudges her mascara. But Rita isn't really a sensitive person, and in the third book, she actually works actively against her daughter. She doesn't really care about her daughter, and is once again just being really deceptive. She portrays herself as a stereotypical woman again, and Charles describes her as "sensitive". As I have previously mentioned, Rita basically plays into the whole "weak woman" stereotype (obviously liking fashion and crying a lot don't necessarily make you weak or useless but that seems to be what Charles thinks). Therefore Charles does not see Rita as a threat, although, spoilers! Rita wants him dead. Also she's like... One of the major antagonists, but this only becomes evident in book 3.

Alright I've already done so much book 1 analysis, now onto book 2. Be aware that book 2 is very much a work in progress and the quotes, and even some plot points, may change as I continue writing, and later edit, the book.

Diox's first POV chapter (still unsure whether this will be chapter 1 or 2, also there is a short prologue before this):

Essentially, what happens in this chapter is that Diox spends the first little section expressing symptoms of severe mental illness before deciding to go but an espresso. Suddenly, he hears a voice calling his name. It's Rita. At first, her tone is casual and conversational, but soon turns interrogative.

Rita raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “How did you do it?” she demanded, her voice quiet but interrogative.  “Do what?” I asked, my voice shaking. But a part of me already knew. I’m in trouble. Rita was far, far more intelligent than I had realised.  “Betray Charles,” she said. “Earn his trust and then let him die… just like that.”

Rita is clearly intelligent enough to realise that Diox had sabotaged Charles, and Diox himself admits that he had underestimated her intelligence. Rita clearly had many people fooled that she was just a harmless, not particularly intelligent woman. 

After this encounter, Rita and Diox grow closer, even becoming quite good friends. Finally, Rita admits that she has feelings for him. Except she’s not admitting anything. Because she actually completely despises him. And she later goes on to murder him but that’s a whole other matter. But what makes Rita so manipulative is that Diox feels genuinely guilty for not reciprocating her feelings, so much that he even pressurises himself into being in a relationship with her, so much that he even PROPOSES to her and THEY GET MARRIED. (A lot of this is also down to Diox’s trauma and internalised arophobia but that’s a whole other matter.) The fact that Rita was able to deceive Diox so well just shows how cunning and manipulative she is. 

And why is she doing all this? Just so that she can rule the world with her 206 year old communist dictator mass murderer boyfriend. Pretty much. 

Alright, that’s a bit of an oversimplification. In reality, I think Rita is just extremely obsessed with her ideal worldview and will stop at nothing to put this into place (along with the previously mentioned boyfriend). She has very strong morals, though her views may be seen as rather extremist. Yes, she kills people. Yes, she’s one of the main villains. Yes, she also believes she’s creating the ideal society and believes she’s completely justified in everything she does. 

Ok this is kind of disjointed and random aaa but my brain isn’t at its finest right now so have this lmao I tried my best.