constructivecritisms-blog

[constructivecritisms-blog]

It’s been a long time since I’ve found a new and good rpg maker horror game. I’m loving so much End Roll, if you’re interested to play it you better check all the warnings before trying it — 

[constructivecritisms-blog]

終わりの始まり | By:かず谷(かずたに)

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[constructivecritisms-blog]

“Russell, right?”

Another day, another resident. It appears that this... diaidem was intent on helping the Nameless Town residents, huh? 

He wondered how the other was fairing with meeting everyone in here. Considering the size of the village and even the areas surrounding it... The Informant makes a note to check back with Russell once he’s done talking with Cody. It wouldn’t do good to let the other boy deal with this on his own.

Arms cross behind him, as he goes back to the case at hand. The little sister is here, and it appears that she has more common sense to ask about him, rather than about the area.

Finally, a change of pace.

“I look like him, because I am him,” Simple enough, “I’m your world’s ultimate guidebook, the one that was to help guide Russell during his dream.”

Even if she doesn’t know about the world being a dream--- at least, he assumes this to be the case--- it would be better to say the truth. She’d find out sooner or later. And really, the Informant would rather avoid having Cody be angry at keeping the truth from her. 

@constructivecritisms

That… was not Russell.

The boy was similar enough that Cody was struck at first glance, but the differences stuck out within an instant. The darker shirt, the smug aura, even the kid’s eyes were completely different.

But it was familiar enough that she felt her legs moving her towards him, and an off-hand comment from Gardenia remembered gave some answers by the time she arrived by his side.

“… Informant, right?” That was the one Gardenia had mentioned seeing at that strange store, wasn’t it? The girl had seemed baffled by how similar the two were.

… That could make more sense, now.

“Who… who are you, really? And why do you look like…”

Him.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

guiltdream‌: 

Russell opens his mouth as if to say something - and then promptly closes it with a sigh, eyes trailing over the reminds of the spilled drink for a few more moments before eventually focusing back on Informant.  Well, yes, he was here now (when he shouldn’t, in his opinion), but he didn’t really know where here was. It was a bit frustrating he couldn’t even properly answer him, only nodding in response with a “mmhm”.

Well, he could at least manage some sounds it seemed like.

Though that’s when Russell noticed Informant’s movements, the way he rubbed at his throat doing enough to jolt a bit of panic into him as he reached forward, touching the others forearm. 

“Ah-”

Was he even aware he was doing that? It didn’t really seem like it but Russell’s  concerned expression - brief as it was - said enough at least, he really did not like that. Then again, Informant doing that was Russell’s fault, wasn’t it?

 He had knack for causing people to suffer even in death it seemed.

Pulling his hand back, he shifted a bit, pointing to Informant and then making a sweeping gesture to their surroundings, trying to ask the question of “How are you here, where is here?” hoping he would understand him. If anyone could read him best it would be him, they were the same person in the end after all.

No, he wasn’t aware. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this, not noticing how his own hand was this close to an attempt at harming his own neck. 

“...!”

The Informant blinks a few times, eyes wide for just a few moments before returning back to their usual state. Though, even despite the calm face, his mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. He was about to--- this close to--- had he done that before and he just never noticed until Russell did? 

“Sorry about that, “ It wasn’t often either of them had heard an apology towards them before, nor was it often that they would apologize, which made something like this a bit awkward, “Thank you for stopping me.”

He watches as Russell gestures--- pointing at him, before acknowledging the rest of the space. An eyebrow is raised as the Informant’s brain switches gears. The question, no. The questions that were being asked here...

“This would be Eidolon. A winter wonderland that doesn’t appear to be that advanced regarding technology, so we can’t play video games here,” Unfortunate, “And let me guess..., you want to know why I’m here, right?”

Or at least, how he was here, but they were one in the same question, really.

“I don’t quite get it myself, apparently people are brought here due to wanting a change of some sort but...,” A cross of the arms, as his hand lands on his chin in thoughts, “Ignoring the fact that I should also be dead, I’m only a part of your dream, so it really doesn’t make any sense.”

Another sigh is let out, and the Informant gets up--- gesturing to Russell to follow him to get more hot cocoa. “It’s really weird, I’ll give it that. The only ones from that dream that should be here are the others--- and yet, here I am? I’ve asked around but none of the locals really had an answer for this sort of situation.”

Though it did appear that he wasn’t the only one that had doppelgangers walking around the village. Which raised the young boy’s eyebrows pretty high up, there’s no way they were all created from a Happy Dream. It had to be a different circumstance.

...Still didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to ask them about it, however.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

Happy birthday...

The music starts up. 

To you...

You’re face to face with a giant cake, filled to the top with strawberries. And yet, still smooshed.

Happy birthday... to you.

She’s there, right beside you. Face obscured as her head is at an angle. Staring at you. Frying pan in hand, she steps closer. And closer. And closer. She lifts the pan---

Happy birthday... dear...

The Informant wakes up with a start. Eyes wide as he surveys the room. It was still the same old room, still... he was here, in Eidolon. Everything... was fine. For the moment.

He gets up. Might as well go get more cocoa for the day.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

His cocoa’s on the floor, the cup’s on the table, and green eyes meet blue.

It was inevitable, Russell being here that is. There were already other residents here alongside himself, so it only made sense that the creator of said dream would make his way here, right? Right. He knows this, yet...

Seeing the actual Russell--- the one that everyone had wanted instead of him--- floored the Informant. Enough so that his usual mask fell apart, making way for a surprised face.

“You’re..., here?” A tone of shock, almost as if he wasn’t believing his own eyes for the moment. However, he’s quick to snap himself out of it, “I was wondering when you’d be coming here.”

He’s met with silence from the other still. Which, admittedly, wasn’t all that off putting--- he knew the other like the back of his hand, obviously, so that part didn’t bring any surprise to him. It’s only when he finally takes a look at Russell, does his eyes widen by a fraction and his hand reaches for his own throat.

Could he even speak? The Informant thinks to himself, unaware of his own hand rubbing against his throat. Considering that nasty scar on his neck..., it’d be safe to assume that the other couldn’t speak. 

“...,” Letting out a sigh, he speaks up once more, “Anyways, the drink is fine, I can just order another cup. No need for apologies.”

Especially when it was his own fault he knocked it over anyways. 

☆ - @constructivecritisms

Well, he didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting but really the one he received wasn’t that surprising at all. 

Informant had been reaching for his drink when he saw Russell which promptly lead him to knocking it over and spilling it everywhere. Though really, his doppleganger being here in general didn’t help the ever growing and gnawing feeling in his stomach that he was being tested again.

Of course, once was never enough, was it?

He found himself with less anxiety approaching the other though, maybe it just had to do with Informant really being him, one way or the other. He did hesitate in picking the toppled cup back up and sitting it upright with a small, apologetic glance, grip tightening on some sort of object in his other hand.

Quite the way to see each other again, huh? 

[constructivecritisms-blog]

guiltdream replied to your post “...” If you’ll excuse him, he’s going to throw himself into the ocean...”

//you can run but you cant hide

[constructivecritisms-blog]

“...”

If you’ll excuse him, he’s going to throw himself into the ocean now. Please do not stop him as this was bound to happen.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

soulrewound‌:

          How adorable. Ozpin makes no move to show that he noticed the Informant’s moment of weakness ( he knows how embarrassed children can get at the limits of their own bodies, so he won’t try to tease the other any more than he has ), instead inspecting for any further wounds on the kid’s hands or sharp ends on the hilt’s structure. It’d be a bad idea to become sick from just a little bit of treasure hunting. Thankfully, everything seems to be fine. Thank the gods.

          “ You’d be surprised, actually. “ He isn’t saying this because of presumptions, more like he’s seen much stupider things in his lifetimes ( with some of those said things being performed by himself, but semantics don’t need to go that deep ), but he thinks that Informant knows better than that. Looks like he was trying to be nicer to the poor chap that lost their stuff compared to Oz. “ But I do think it could. “ Question time.

                    “ Do you want to affix a new blade to it? Or do you just want a trophy? “

A new blade...

He looks over at Ozpin, holding up the hilt, eyebrow raised. As if almost looking at him as if the other grew another head. Clearly, he did not know that the Informant was not supposed to be near weapons--- which, granted, no one but himself would know this, however he was still going to give a look.

“I was thinking of trading it in, I have no use for a trophy,” A shrug, “and I simply shouldn’t be allowed near weapons.”

Or anything that could count as a weapon, at least. This is what he assumes anyways, considering that he arrived with only his compass and neither of his weapons. If that goddess truly existed, then this was more of her way of saying, ‘you’re not allowed near weapons’, right?

“Though, I guess having a weapon like this wouldn’t be so bad...”

If he could carry it that is. And depending on what blade’s attached to it..., he absolutely need to learn how to use it too. Maybe he could just attach a knife to it, that could work and save him the trouble.

Thanks, Ozpin, you put the idea in his head now.

A people watcher.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

alrosary‌:

This time, the look on the Informant’s face is unreadable, and Dogma can’t help but feel like he’s on the back foot. Outright lies he can pick up on, sure–that was the whole thing with confession, picking up when someone was doing as little as possible to earn their absolution–but this flat smile is curiously impenetrable. At least the Informant’s response is positive–so why does he feel like the offer of trust was an utter failure?

“It’s a lovely place, isn’t it? I appreciate it. Thank you, Informant,” he adds, as sincere as he can be, and then lapses into the safety of silence again for the rest of the walk.

Lepton’s, it turns out, is the most inviting place Dogma has seen since he arrived here. He’d assumed all the buildings were like the Chateau, grand and crystalline, or as run-down and makeshift as the bunkhouses, so the relief he feels at the sight of a place that actually looks like a pleasant place to be is enough to make him mutter “Thank the Lord,” under his breath.

Dogma sits the Informant down somewhere comfortable and hurries off to get them something warm to drink, returning after a moment with cocoa for the boy and a mug of tea smelling strongly of lemon for himself. Best to keep illness at bay before it can take root. No ginger, but he can find that himself somewhere, probably, make a trip to the general store later and hope he can pick that up just in case he does get sick…

…And it’s not for another few minutes that he realises he’s said absolutely nothing to the boy since they walked through the door. Come on, Dogma. He was never the best at making idle conversation, true, but what’s that they say about desperate times…? The priest puts his mug down, leaves his hands wrapped around it, soaking up the warmth, and sighs.

“Do you miss it? I know we haven’t been gone long, but… it feels a little like an eternity.”

Hot cocoa...

The Informant stares at the cup given to him, blinking. He doesn’t recall ever being given this sort of drink--- the most he had was orange juice or water. 

...He takes a sip of it, only to burn his tongue a bit--- this was fine. This was fine! Ignoring the way he jumped a smidge at the burn, Informant continues to drink it. Stubborn. But really, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do, since Dogma was being silent for the time being.

That is, until he finishes the cup.

Placing the--- now empty--- cup down onto the table, the young boy thinks on the other’s inquiry. Did he miss the Nameless Town? Did he even care enough about the residents and the world to even miss such a thing?

The answer would be yes, absolutely, even if he wouldn’t admit that in the first place. It was only a few days that he’s been here and yet..., somehow, he feels more alone than he did as Russell. Though maybe that was due to not being in the dream, the dream that held all the pieces of Russell Seager together, the dream that... held everyone in it.

...

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t...,” A pause, a furrow of the eyebrows, what was he trying to say? What was the appropriate word to use here? He could go with that he missed it, yes, but it didn’t feel...

Quite right, to say that he missed them. It felt much bigger than just missing people. He looks back at the cup.

“...I want more cocoa.”

Way to dodge the bullet, almost, surely Dogma would be able to pick up on it, right?

[constructivecritisms-blog]

Character solidifying!

1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have? 2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have? 3. Brothers, sisters? Who do they like? Why? What do they despise about their siblings? 4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient? 5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered? 6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child? 7. What was the economic status of their family? 8. How does your character feel about religion? 9. What about political beliefs? 10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted? 11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated? 12. How does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations? 13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates? 14. Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected? 15. Did they graduate? High-School? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED? 16. What does your character do for a living? How do they see their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike? 17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When? 18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember? 19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now? 20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced? 21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate? 22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner? 23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex? 24. What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually? 25. What are their hobbies and interests? 26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance? 27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality? 28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice? 29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling? 30. Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive? 31. Does your character have children? How do they feel about their parental role? About the children? How do the children relate? 32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively? 33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health?  34. Does your character feel self-righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous? 35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures? 36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering? 37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories? 38. Are they basically negative when facing new things? Suspicious? Hostile? Scared? Enthusiastic? 39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid? 40. How is their sense of humor? Do they have one? 41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony? 42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain? 43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back? 44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them? 45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic? 46. Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body? 47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Does they want to be visible or invisible? 48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish? 49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent? 50. What are the prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating?

[constructivecritisms-blog]

“ you are flourishing in spite of everything “

Green eyes blink, as he stares up at you.

“Is that so?”

Flourishing, huh, was that it? If so..., he didn’t believe it. All he was doing was getting by in this harsh winter, this unknown land. He wasn’t doing anything special to warrant such a comment.

But he doesn’t say anything, only allowing you the chance to assume that yes, he was fine--- he was supposedly “flourishing”. There was no use arguing the point that no, he wasn’t. He felt that there was no need to do such a thing, it’d be better to just let people assume things, rather than correct them.

Besides, it’s not like he likes people to know he’s feeling anyways.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

poetry prompts ✨

a small collection of lines from some of my poetry for use as prompts/starters/whatever! feel free to change the pronouns or anything else you feel like, of course.

“ it came to you as a nightmare and you showed up eager “ “ anything can be a lily in three feet of water “ “ the soil is kinder than you deserve “ “ i am miles from the man i am meant to be “ “ i am drowning, drowning, drowning “ “ rules say i should kiss you anyway “ “ boys wreak whatever havoc they like “ “ you are a breath away “ “ i should feel less like this and more like stone “ “ this was always meant to be fraught “ “ the world is full of terrible advice “ “ my ribs ache trying to hold it in “ “ i wonder—is love like this? ” “ how soon is too soon, anyway? “ “ i am forcing myself into love for the sake of art. i do not love you. “ “ is it okay to say that? “ “ i’ve never met god but i’ve made him very mad “ “ my heart is being pulled out through my ribs “ “ and when you close your eyes, what do you see? “ “ i’m tired and slipping down and trembling-all-over anxious “ “ it sucked the heart out of you “ “ not one sign of the word sorry “ “ you are at the edge of everything “ “ help me, help me, let me live somewhere i can breathe “ “ two days is supposed to be generous “ “ you are flourishing in spite of everything “

[constructivecritisms-blog]

He doesn’t understand why he’s here.

Well, no, more so he doesn’t understand why he’s being dragged over here to the bonfire. 

After what had happened days ago, he was sure that the other Gardenia wouldn’t want anything to do with him--- thus, leaving him be for as long as possible. And yet...

“A closer look,” He looks back at the girl before looking at the fire, there was no need to ask if he wanted to take a closer look when she’s already dragged him this far close to the scene, “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

Already making his way over to it, he watches how people help out with the fuel of the fire, carrying wood to and fro, making sure that the bonfire doesn’t go out too soon. It was amazing how the village got together to help the festival keep running like this. And, he supposed that it was nice, to see people help each other out, and not just have a small party fend for themselves on their duties.

“It’s..., warm,” Surprisingly warm, sure, it was fire but--- it’s not as if there were any bonfires where he used to live. And even if there were, he probably wouldn’t be invited anyways. So, he wasn’t entirely used to the idea of actually being near a fire.

Besides, the last time Russel was near one, he ran. Ran so far away. 

“So...,” He speaks after a beat of silence, not looking towards Gardenia, “Can i ask why you dragged me over here in the first place?”

@constructivecritisms || EVENT THREAD

Gardenia had never been to a bonfire before. 

No one had invited her to such an event, but she wasn’t really upset about that–She was sure her dad wouldn’t have been happy with it, anyway. It would be too cold, too dark, too dangerous…she would be safer inside. But of course, she’s usually down to try new things!

Trying new things, however, was better with someone else than going at it alone. That’s why she decided to drag an old friend with her. She felt nervous at first, given all the people that were around causing such a celebration commotion, but she felt a spark of excitement light up within her as she lightly grips the sleeve of her friend and points to the fire that blazes so clearly, she could see it from a distance away.

“ Look, look! There it is! The bonfire’s just this way! ” 

She swallows back the nervous feeling in her throat. Experiencing new things was usually scary at the beginning, right? She pauses a moment to admire the beauty of the flame, watching people walk by carrying wood as fuel, until she finally looks back at him. “ Do you wanna take a closer look? ”

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“Firewood...”

That’s right, he did see people carrying pieces of wood to and fro during his walk over here. He honestly didn’t expect any of the newcomers to help the village, but it appears that his expectations were thrown out the window.

“I see,” He watches as she starts up again, collecting more large pieces of wood. Blinking a bit, the Informant tilts his head, “Isn’t it too heavy?”

From what he saw, most children were carrying smaller pieces of wood, enough so that it wouldn’t strain their body. This person, meanwhile..., hm. Maybe she was just stronger than average, that’d make sense considering what he’s seen so far.

@constructivecritisms

“What’s going on? Popo hears it’s a festival to celebrate spring being on its away! The fire in the village is all warm and pretty!” Or so she starts saying, but – far from the town centre, in the forest on the outer edge of the village, she supposes when the boy doesn’t seem to nod in agreement that he might not have been referring to the festival itself. “Oh! You mean Popo!”

She puts a large piece of wood onto a growing pile, smiling widely. “Popo is getting firewood for the fire! Then everyone in town will be happy!” If they were happy – then Popo would be happy too. If she worked hard, maybe they could help her with her wish.

[constructivecritisms-blog]

punsheathed‌:

“Yeah, that’s what happened. Lame as hell,” Kicking the snow slightly, Sho turned his face up to the sky for a moment as he groaned. “I’m a duel wielder! I mean, sure, I can fight with just one, but my balance’s off!”

After the minute of pure whining, Sho seemed to remember he wasn’t alone, and turned back to the kid, a tiny bit sheepish.

“All my other weapons are gone, too. Usually have some knives on me, too. Feel naked without ‘em. How am I supposed to trust nothin’ will happen that I don’t hafta throw a knife at something! I can’t throw a sword from yards away!”

And still went straight back to whining. Sho was far from fond of being separated from the blades that felt like an extension of himself. 

The younger boy’s words about even the one being cool, though, managed to finally pull him out of his pity party and smile a little pridefully.

“It’s the best sword out there, so of course it’s cool to still have it! It’s just… even cooler, with its pair! Then they’re unstoppable!”

….. Somehow that ended sounding like he was talking about a friggin bond. No one could know.

He was..., interesting? A bundle of emotions, anyways. 

But what was more interesting was how he spoke of his weapons. Was he just speaking about them like that because he was so used to having two weapons or..., was he truly treating them as if there was a bond between the two?

“I see, so they’re unstoppable when they’re together as a pair?” How did that even work? It wasn’t as if this was a dream--- so there was no reason to believe the swords were animate. But considering what he’s seen  so far...

“Mind telling me more about them? Your weapons, I mean.” 

Let’s talk weapons, perhaps?

[constructivecritisms-blog]

Another arrival. Another...

Resident of the Nameless Town. This brings up to a total of three, excluding himself, he thinks to himself as he stares up at the elder draken. The Informant figured that residents would continue to appear, one by one, though what he didn’t figure out was who would be coming. First it was Gardenia, then Dogma, and now...

“Kantera. It’s... good to see you here,” It didn’t exactly sound sincere, but didn’t exactly sound fake either. He was still the other boy, so of course he felt some sort of happiness knowing the residents were here. However, there was still the bit of bitterness that was plaguing his mind. Knowing that they should all be dead and not... 

No. He won’t continue that train of thought. Besides, what Kantera had just said has him puzzled a bit.

“Our fair share of ides? I guess it has been a while since we’ve last met.”

“So, how are you fairing, here? You are new here after all...”

@constructivecritisms ♡

What an odd thing, to be standing before this boy again, alive and well. (Is that what this is? Alive? Well?) There’s no hesitation in the steps Kantera takes to reach him, because– why would there be? He remembers it all, now. His life was freely given; he has no grudge to bear against the echo of the child he’d traded it away to.

“We’ve passed our fair share of ides since our last meeting, have we not? I’m happy to see you here.” He sounds perfectly sincere, because he is– though he does wonder if the feeling is reciprocated.