#maybe as I work on those over time I can still write smaller stuff

[cerealmonster15]

I get very startled anytime someone here says they have read my fics bc like. Idk even tho I post them here and I li k back to this blog on the ao3 posts I’m not really Aware of what ppl are doing or why they followed me. Like if there’s a revlog or comment on the tumblr post sure or if there’s an ao3 comment w/a similar username Maybe ya But. I don’t have kudos emails on. Idk where people come from when they follow me from seemingly out of nowhere. I make post and someone goes “I see post” and I go WHERE did you come from. how could you possibly see this thing I publicly put on the internet to be seen lol.

[pressureplus]

Not sure if you have done it or if anyone have already requested it.. but I do like to see a headcanons (NSFW?) on the ovipositor of Sebastian. Like if reader finally agrees to let him pregnant them with his eggs. Kinda stuff like how would it feel like during/after breeding? does it will hurt? How long long does it take? How those eggs/babies develop? And how does the giving birth would be and feel like? Anything like that.

Btw, I love your headcanons and oneshots! <3

So glad you asked! I've been dealing with pain lately so Ive needed consistent care. As per usual we are writing, this one just happened to be finished first. Also, thank you for the compliment <3

♡Sebastian Solace Ovipositor Headcannons♡

Warnings: Describing this Non-Erotically, Implied Sex, Oviposition/Ovipositor, AFAB and AMAB Cannons (God Im Sorry), Pregnancy/Birth Vaguely Mentioned, M!Preg Mentioned

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜

Starting off strong, the moment you agree to have that mans babies he is all over you

Excited, yes, and at the mention of his Ovipositor being put to use he’ll be a little shy but happy to oblige! How can he not be? The idea of having a family almost makes him feel…normal. Happy and normal.

As his tendril is always sheathed, it stays very slick, which makes insertion easier. Despite his absurdly large length (he is well over twice your size) he doesn't need to be all the way inside your body to use said Ovipositor

During the process of actually putting those eggs in your body, it feels…odd. The best way I can describe this is like swallowing those Boba Pearls in drinks? But like…obviously not with your mouth

Doesn't hurt! The eggs arent too large, about an inch in length and diameter, but still not painful! You’d think they would be, right?

This is due to both the slightly muscle relaxant features of said slick, and the flexible nature of his eggs

Despite their size they can easily compress to be smaller if pressure is applied…too much pressure will pop them and make them no longer viable but yes they can get a bit smaller

They're like little jelly balls with a turquoise color

After the fact, you'll really just feel oddly full for the next day or two. These things are decently sticky and almost parasitic in nature so those that are going to continue to develop will be burying themselves into your body

Not a painful process either, by the way

Those that don't end up attaching to anything are not particularly viable as they can't take any of your DNA to make anything. So those really just have to be removed. This can be done decently easily with some pressure applied to your stomach and a bit of pushing

Produces 6-12 eggs on average, but may produce more or less, so you never really know how many actually stuck

The way these eggs develop is rather unnatural to say the least.

If you're AFAB then they'll attempt to fill your uterus much like a normal baby would. They also take as much ‘code’ from your DNA as possible, feeding off your blood for minerals similar to how Anglerfish pairs function

If you're AMAB things get a bit..sticky for you. They'll hollow out their own space inside you, kind of like a very small faux womb. This is NOT painful, but does leave a sort of dull ache like you've just worked out for a while. This small little wound will close behind the eggs as well so they won't be disturbed. They feed off you the same way as they do for those who are AFAB

This pregnancy can last anywhere from 6-9 months depending on how large the batch of eggs is. They do technically ‘share’ their meals so they'll all be ready to hatch at the same time. Think of it like an evolutionary trait for a better chance at survival.

Doesn't entirely feel like pregnancy, you'll feel weaker, bloaty, and maybe a bit sick mostly due to lower mineral/vitamin counts. But as long as you take some kind of supplements or eat healthy you'll be fine

You don't get particularly round or anything either, just a small bump that could easily be passed off as weight gain

On the Plus side for the AFABS, your body does not continue to have its menstrual cycle during these months. They release their own chemicals into your body/bloodstream for a better latch and less chances to be ‘rejected’

As for having these babies? There's conractions/cramping for sure and a bit of blood from where those eggs detach. I wouldn't call them particularly bad contractions, as they're slower and a lot less painful than normal child birth

The body doesn't have to prep as much since they're not normal sized human babies.

If you're AFAB, they'll come out the natural way. If you're AMAB, you're going to need surgery

Surgery is of course an option for both if preferred.

They pop their eggs and are ready to go the second they break, now for the most part the body can just absorb the nutrients in these empty ‘shells’ but they can also be removed. It won't cause additional harm either way

These babies aren't very big when they're taken out

In fact, they're all about palms sized. They're warm to the touch, covered in a bit of blood and whatever liquid is inside those eggs, so they're a bit sticky. But just fine to wipe clean

They’ll be oddly…blue and pale for the first while as they learn to breathe oxygen with their very small lungs. Don't worry, they'll figure it out. They look almost like normal babies aside from this, well, not including those that look more like Sebastian

They’ll develop faster than normal babies as well. Some may even be born with sharp teeth, others will get their set within the first two months.

They're already up and ready to go in about a year or less, as if they're made for survival like wild animals. However this will come at a cost. Your sanity mostly when your 1 year old is chewing through the casings of wires and chair legs.

By the time they're around 5-6 they'll be just a little smaller than the size of a normal human child.

As teenagers getting their growth spurts? Many of your children may end up BIGGER than average humans!

Overall your children will be different, as was the process of having them, but they're still perfectly healthy

[shotmrmiller]

this is for you, @ttsbaby01

here's the piece that inspired this

1.5k words because who knew i needed to write something like this today. i kinda edited it, just a quick skim, though.

simon x f!reader,

tw: explicit smut, p in v, the usual, MDNI

Simon teaches Johnny some new tricks

The moment Simon saw you wince when Johnny pushed himself inside of you, that was all he needed to see. Incredible. For someone that brilliant, Johnny is obtuse when it comes to sex.

Maybe he's blinded by lust, who knows, but Simon almost grimaces at the pace he starts off with, and when he sees you flatten your feet on the bed to meet Johnny's thrusts, Johnny simply pins you down with his weight, forcing you still.

Poor you. All you wanted was to come, and Johnny couldn't even tell, too focused on pistoning his hips into you to meet his own end.

How greedy.

And when Johnny does come, Simon chuckles when he sees your face. It’s mildly disappointed but unsurprised— like you’re used to it.

He watches Johnny kiss you before he pulls out and immediately gets up to shower. That's his cue— the sorry excuse of a show is over. Simon's about to shut his laptop when he sees your hand slowly travel down to your aching pussy and circle your neglected clit with your fingers. Oh?

When he hears your pleasured moan again, he sits up on his chair, pupils expanding as he takes you in. Now this is what he wants to see.

Every delicious whimper and mewl that slithers out of your throat makes his cock twitch in his trousers. He can't help himself. Simon takes himself out and starts to pump according to the rhythm you've set.

Oh, you take it slow, sensual, for a bit, and then pick up the pace. Your moans start to get a little louder as you circle faster and press much smaller fingers into your abused cunt. He knows that his one finger could stuff you better than two of yours.

He knows that he could pull those sweet sounds out of you with his tongue flicking your clit, his stubble scraping your inner thighs raw, his fingers curling inside to find the rough patch of skin on your slick walls.

His eyes are shut as he squeezes himself, precum dribbling onto his knuckles, and when he hears you climax— airy, high-pitched moans that's a bloody symphony to his ears— he also comes. Simon spills all over his hand and stomach, seed sticking to his happy trail, and he couldn't give a fuck less. You're the best thing he's heard in a very long time, and he's debating replacing the classical music he usually listens to at work with your voice.

Simon languidly opens his eyes to look at you on his screen, and the fucked-out, blissful look on your face is something that'll be engrained in his head forever.

He watches Johnny step out of the bathroom with a towel around his trim waist and lowers himself onto the bed to kiss you.

Simon shakes his head, and with his clean hand shuts the laptop. It seems he's gotta teach Johnny how to treat his girl right.

--

"How was it, LT?" Johnny gloats.

Sighing, Simon pulls him into his office and takes out his personal laptop. "You tell me, Sergeant."

Johnny looks gutted when the video gets to Simon's favorite part.

"Yer jokin'." He sounds miserable, and Simon would feel bad if Johnny hadn't been a braggart about how he fucked you in the beginning.

"'Fraid not' Johnny. I gotta admit, I didn't take ya to be tha' selfish."

Johnny opens his mouth to defend himself when Simon silences him with a swipe of his gloved hand. "I can help ya, though. Let me teach ya how t'please her so tha' this embarrassment doesn't happen again, yeah?"

Johnny's eyes, colour a mix of sea and sky, shine brightly as he looks up at Simon. "Are ye serious?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

Simon clenches his jaw painfully tight when Johnny agrees.

Only once Simon stands alone in his office does he let his emotions show. The sound of his fist hitting the desk fills the room, first with one resounding thump, then with another, leaving his knuckles throbbing. He's going to bloody ruin you.

Maybe Johnny will be willing to share you after all of this is said and done.

--

Johnny came to him later that day, letting him know that you had also agreed, but no mask at home. You won't sleep with someone whose face you can't see.

Simon almost took his mask off in exhilaration on the spot.

--

Simon has your legs propped on the edge of the bed as he lapped at your sopping cunt.

"Johnny, ya gotta focus here," he pointed his tongue and circled it around your swollen clit, making your back arch, and Johnny has to tighten his hold on you. He sat behind you, your back to his chest, his arms around you as he looked over your sweaty shoulder to watch Simon eat like a man starved.

"And gently curl your fingers inside, you're looking for..." he paused, the tendons in the middle of his wrist fluttering as he prodded until you were squealing, dripping slick down his hand. "That. You're looking for her sweet spot," he instructed.

Simon keeps rubbing your walls, and every movement has the obscene squelching of your drenched cunt getting noisier. "She's about t'come, I can feel her startin' to squeeze my fingers. Look at her, Johnny. That's the face ya wanna see," and then he turns his attention to you. "Come f'me, pet, let me hear ya."

He encircles your clit with his lips and sucks, and you shatter in Johnny's arms— head thrown back onto his shoulder, trembling violently, loudly dry sobbing at the toe-curling ecstasy that's searing through your veins, stealing the very oxygen in your lungs. Simon doesn't stop thrusting his fingers, prolonging your pleasure, taking every bit of it for himself. It's the only time he'll be selfish.

Your head is clouded with arousal, numb from pleasure, and you can vaguely feel yourself being laid flat on the bed, limp legs hooked over shoulders, feet resting on a strong back— muscles rippling with each movement.

There's a buzzing sound in your ears, and you can see Johnny's lips moving, talking to you, and then he's stepping away. You lazily turn your head to the side, and watch Johnny kneel by the side of the bed, gaze intense as he looks towards where Simon is. Then there's something hot, heavy, and thick pressing into your entrance, splitting you open, sensitive walls stinging at the stretch, and it goes deep, and even deeper still— it seems never-ending until there's a pinch in your lower stomach.

"Atta girl, love." Simon grips your jaw with one hand, and commands, "Eyes on Johnny, sweetheart. Let him see ya and let me hear ya."

And starts to pump his hips. The depths that he's in are devastating, it feels like he's rearranging your insides, which is strange because Johnny's got a monster in his pants as well, but this.

This is different.

You're so sensitive from your prior orgasm that it feels so much more intense, and you can't even try to hold back the keens that are being wrenched from you. Your vision is blurry with tears from overstimulation, but you keep your gaze on Johnny, and he looks painfully aroused. His cheeks are bright pink, his mouth slightly open as he pants, eyes molten as he looks at your cunt swallowing up someone else's cock.

God, he's so pretty.

You're brought out of your musings when Simon places a pillow underneath you, lifting your hips and changing the angle.

The way Simon fills you to the brim with his cock, pushing you to, if not past, your limit is just plain disrespectful.

And then he grabs your legs by the ankles, your thighs touching your chest, folding you in half like a napkin to start thrusting shallowly— the tip of his head gently jabbing into your g-spot.

Your head goes blank, vision white, and your mouth opens into a silent scream, or maybe not so silent, who knows who cares.

Simon thrusts 4 times before that coil in your stomach snaps like a pencil. Your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, unwilling to let him move, but he only grunts and starts to slam his hips into your soft arse— spine rattling from the strength of him. He unrelentingly fucks you through your climax, hips never losing their rhythm.

He's bottoming out now, and you swear you can feel him in your throat, and he starts to pound into your used cunt. When you hiss from how tender you feel, Johnny cups your cheek and leans in to give you a soul-stealing kiss. It's sloppy, you can hear the slick sounds your mouths make, and when you moan into him, Simon's thrusts turn sloppy, choppy. Then he pulls out with a loud snarl to spurt thick, viscous cum directly over your puffy slit, coating your mons with it too— only to push himself back inside, head dripping with his seed, and slowly thrusts until he's overstimulated.

Simon gently lowers your legs back onto the bed, and you groan at the ache when you feel your blood rushing back to them.

"Fuck me," you mumble tiredly, and Johnny chuckles in response.

"Simon already did tha', bonnie." Johnny presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead and looks at Simon.

"I now ken what ye mean, LT. This was a different beast altogether."

You huff out a laugh because beast indeed.

Jesus.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

my lucifer headcanons

note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write lucifer, what plays into why i write luce the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- i think michael was very fond of his brother

- when the time came though to listen to dad and fulfill his duty or be a brother to lucifer michael chose duty

- the betrayal is still a sore spot for lucifer

- during lucifer’s “youth” he was curious, always dreaming up incredible creations… it was why he was dads favorite.

- he made the star fish, “because the sea deserves its own stars!” and he also made the duck. the ducks first iteration was quite a bit larger… lucifer and god compromised on a smaller duck. (more like god bribed lucifer.)

- he watched adam be made…. so he was always fond of him and lilith… until he fell in love with lilith…

- he didn’t realize it was love

- but michael knew and michael was scared. so he would draw lucifer away from the garden every chance he got

- lucifer was very naive when he was cast down to hell. he knew so much, he had been alive for so long, but there was so much life experience he didn’t have.

- the first few years in hell were horrible…

- he had hope at first

- maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad

- it was really bad. like really bad. the people who came down to hell were unspeakable devils

- (this is based off a fic i read and i can’t find it, if this rings any bells pls let me know the fic name) but lucifer is continuously appalled and distraught by the atrocities committed in his name.

- it’s one of the reasons he so powerful. he has the angelic power but also the power from those who worship him and make sacrifices for him

he really hates it. a lot. makes him feel no better than the worse overlord (cough alastor cough)

- charlie has no idea and she’ll never know if he can help it

- lucifer smells like apples and vanilla musk, a hint of cinnamon and something floral or citrusy.

- the floral or citrus changes depending on his mood

- he has a huge library. he actually pops up to earth with Asmodeous sometimes and takes books.

- he saved the whole Library of Alexandria’s books before it burned down

- he’s great friends with all the sins

- arguably closest with Beelzebub and Asmodeous

- he loves claw machines. the lights, the sounds, the prize winning???? he’s so fucking happy

- he actually wears glasses to read. he doesn’t need them but he says they make him look smarter.

- is actually a pretty good leader, is not nearly as forgiving as charlie is, but he’s not inherently cruel

- his third favorite color is pink

- his first and second are yellow and red, obviously

- he has expensive ass, maximalist taste.

- he doesn’t use tech because he knows what vox does to said tech.

- he’s always wanted a dog

- he’s very touchy. shows love physically. is only this way if he likes you though

- he has nightmares almost every night

- coffee addict

- because after not sleeping he wakes up looking like death warmed over

- and that’s if he didn’t forget to eat the past few days except for random snacks and didn’t do a 48 hour blitz of staying up working on ducks or the bit of kingdom shit he does.

- he has a handful of servants who he trusts and they are the only one in the house. there’s no team. nothing like that. he keeps it very close

- this was after someone who was a servant tried to throw an angelic dagger at his head because really they wanted to kill him and thought working for him would get them close enough.

- he homeschooled charlie. he knows a lot of stuff and even knew the guy who created calculus!

[milffies]

Hiiuuu luv hru!? ❤️ you're LITERALLY my favourite writer who writes angel devil so well!! If you're well and still into csm, is it possible for u to write for him? Maybe more nsfw? (Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this!) MISSED U SM

hiii nonnie , i'm good , just real busy!!! i'm so glad u like my writing :3 i'm still into csm, just haven't seen the fandom that active but i love angel a whole lot so i enjoyed writing this sm . <33

— ౨ৎ : warnings angel devil x chubby! reader . basically a smutty character study, very tame.

to start things off, angel is terribly gullible !! either he doesn’t care enough, or hasn’t been exposed to people for that long to understand when he’s being 'played'. sweet boy is very, very mallible !! <3

with that said — getting him into a contract that’d allowed for you to freely touch him without risking your lifespan wasn’t all too difficult. once again, it’s between equally likely possibilities that angel let this happen because he admittedly craves touch, or simply didn’t expect himself to get tricked. if you’d ever ask him about the matter, all you’ll be met with is a lazy shrug and an ‘i’dunno’ on his end.

butbutbut!!, once you’ve introduced him to physical contact, and he see’s that it’s something enjoyable, angel very quickly becomes a lovey, mushy, needy puddle. calls you his ‘favorite human’ and all !! though, he is still a devil before all else, and combined with his already nonchalant personality, he’ll process emotions ‘n whatnot very differently. give the poor thing time, though — he’ll get better at this for you !!

the first time you touch angel’s hand — you note that it’s surprisingly soft. after a second of thought, though, you conclude it isn’t too shocking considering this is angel devil. the devil with big, expressive eyes and pretty pink lips. lips you often times find yourself imaging not being lethal.

he jerks his hand away from yours after you’d two had made a contract that’d give you free reign to touch him. you watch as he looks at his hand as if you were the one that could drain his very life essence away. the thought makes you wonder if devil’s even have the life force to even get sucked away.

those same doe-like eyes of his blinks in succession a few times before landing on you.

“soo,” you’d drawl, a small, knowing grin on your lips. “i feel fine. i’m guessing that didn’t take off any of my time?”

you’re met with a shaky nod from the smaller figure. he licks a stripe over the thin expanse of his lips your eyes still haven’t fully moved from.

“can….can you touch me again?”

the only, truly proper way to describe an early ‘relationship’ angel is as a needy kitten. the ones that very and visibly clearly want affection and attention — but never initiate physical contact first. at times, he’ll reluctantly sprawl himself on you, a guiding hand on your wrist being led to his head. nono — of course he doesn’t need your attention !! you just happen to be a convient source of it (he convinced himself this to be the reason why he likes being around you.)

as angel is exposed to more affection and touch — and you bring him to the revelation that it can be sexual — a noticable spike in his clinginess is very obvious. constantly seeking out reassurance when nestled into you — a shy, reluctant: “we can uhm…cuddle…right?”, an unsure: “work was soo tiring today, can we hug ‘n stuff…?” to the suprise of none; he didn’t really do any devil hunting — but that’s an afterthought to him when you coddle him as if he’s some little, helpless thing. he’s too precious like this, how can you not take advantage of the moment !! <3

if you’re chubby: angel is all over you even more !! so soft, so warm — you’re pratically his own heated, weighted blanket. angel knows he’s more petite and lithe, by human standards, and clearly by devil standards. loves how nice his smaller frame slots so perfectly against your own larger body though, constantly nuzzling up against the softest parts of you.

“stop movin’ s’much,” a muffled voice murmurs, the owner of the voice’s head comfortably buried in your chest.

“tryin’ to get comfy.” angel lazily says, gazing up at you, his pretty long lashes obscuring parts of his irises. he’d been that close to probably having the greatest nap in his life, but he couldn’t find himself fully drifting off because of you shifting around. truly, you were a blessing and a curse. cozy and soft to the touch, but always moving — interrupting his plans to laze around. </3

with a small smile and a hand to his scalp, a muttered apology is given to him. how can you not adore him like this?; pressed so close to you as if he’s trying to melt into you, breathes shallow and not completely taken with the bratty front he usually puts up.

angel feels your own rising chest even out, letting out a content sigh. finally, it’s hard trying to get proper shut-eye when your human pillow can’t stop moving.

“thas’ better…” the devil murmurs, pretty eyelashes fluttering, before closing.

like i wrote about in this post, angel, like everything else, is very lazy when it comes to him and sexual encounters. this doesn’t in specific mean that he’s not a good partner, or unattentive to your needs — he just doesn’t know. that, and, he never puts extra energy into anything he does, even if this, (to him) unknowingly jeopardizes his own pleasure. baby doesn’t just yet grasp the concept that, the thing that already makes him feel good and overwhelmed, could somehow be better !! </3

very, very sweet and absorbed in what makes the two of you feel the best. especially you. kissing this part of you makes you let out those pretty noises for him? noted. pressing, and rubbing his fingers in unsteady circles has you closing your doughy thighs around his hand? angel’s certainly keeping that tucked away in his head. will want you desperately to talk him through it, guiding him where to touch, suck, and kiss. actually puts in effort when you praise him, don’t acknowledge the fact he lives off this though — he pouts !!

angel’s hips rolls against your own softer ones at a languid pace, occasionally pistoning down to give a proper thrust.

“w—warm…” he lets out — the sound a mix between a murmur and a whine. he bites his bottom lip and hides his face in your neck to cut the sound off prematurely. feels too good for him; too squishy, too syrupy. god, how did he manage existence for so long without ever feeling this ?

“yeah?” you tease, a hand coming to comb through his slightly damp locks. at the touch, angel properly lets out a whine, his hips giving one, two, then three quick thrusts into your too-tight pussy. though his moves are uncoordinated, the shakey rocking of his pelvis against yours has your pussy rewarding his movements with tight clenches. and of course—

“yeah.” he echoes — he whimpers. "feels s’good — feels good f’you too…right?” how eager he is to please. though, he’d never admit it. but you can tell, especially with how he’s zeroing in on rolling his hips in tight circles — knows that gets you to tighten up around his pretty cock and let out hushed moans of your own.

“good boy, angel.” you sigh, head lolling back, prompting him to bury his face deeper into your sweaty flesh. needs to be close to you, needs to know this is real.

angel’s too precious like this — not fully understandant on how to please sexually. the small devil is unintentionally edging you, you’re so close to making a sticky mess over the petite man — if only he was a ‘lil bit more experienced.

though, that’s what you’re there for, right? <3

[modelbus]

I've been in the worst writing slump... so I've defaulted to Kaz Brekker (oops). This didn't get as far as I wanted it to, but it's about 2k words!

Be warned: This contains death (murder), kidnapping, violence, skin trading, mentioned sex work, human trafficking (called "the skin trade" in here), weaponry, and I think that's it!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

Tricked Target

Time is as good as the kruge in your pockets in the Barrel. You know this well, considering you have little of both; money and time. Or perhaps you have too much time. It simply depends on how one sees it, you suppose.

Someone might take you pouring over papers on a desk as a waste of time. See the mahogany wood, stained dark, and curl their lips as the sheer money it must've taken to buy.

Someone else might realize this isn't your office, isn't your desk, and keep their mouth shut.

Tonight, that happens to be an unfortunate man named Zade Oren. Tied in his leather chair, black ropes expertly woven, a gag stuffed in his mouth, and both Achilles slashed for good measure, he learned his lesson.

Don't piss you off.

And although he isn't technically keeping his mouth shut of his own free will, it still technically counts. You give him the slightest of glances, just enough to monitor the tears dripping down his face from wide eyes, before returning to the papers you're rifling through.

"This would be easier if you had just cooperated." You muse aloud, flicking through a ledger before abandoning it. "But you guys never do."

He makes a pathetic sort of whimpering that makes you grin.

You aren't a bad person. After all, you only enjoy the blood on your hands when it's from the right person. The type of person you have at your mercy right now, for example. If anything, you're as close to good as it gets in the barrel. A type of vigilante, rather than one of the profit-seeking groups.

Dime Lions, Black Tips, Razorgulls, The Liddies, Harley's Pointers. Now those are some bad organizations. You're still on the fence about The Dregs; you've seen them do as much good as they have bad. Mostly due to the smaller organization within them. Or maybe the Crows aren't part of the Dregs anymore; you don't care. They're not of interest to you.

"Ah. Here we go." You hum, finding a record of a transaction. Zade gives a feeble cry. Useless, these men who beg for their lives. As if you'll ever give them back.

The transaction seems harmless enough. Four pearls for a sum of money. A sum far too large to be worth even some really fucking nice pearls. And, most importantly, names of the buyer and seller. Your eyes ghost over Zade's name as the buyer, focusing on the seller's name instead.

Then, you crumple up the paper and stuffs it in your pocket.

Pearls. What a stupid code name. The sellers determine it, and they're never very creative with code names. Always something valuable, never something believable.

All it takes is one person (you, in this case) to see what it really means.

Kids.

"I should be going, I think." You finally say, straightening. "Don't worry, don't worry. No more people need to get hurt anymore."

Zade slumps in relief, and you let a wicked grin stretch over your face.

"Oh, no, you've misunderstood. No people will be harmed by me tonight. But you're not really a person, are you?" Your head tilts, watching the panic wash over his features.

Like a cat toying with a mouse, you are. It's just so amusing though, to witness the fear. To let them experience what they've instilled in so many others. That despair? It's precious.

Your knife is sinking into his chest before he can protest any more. Pushing past the hard bone, sinking into his heart with a sick squelch. By the time you pull it out, he's already dead.

"Fool." You sigh, leaving him there and striding over to the window. Let his guards find him later, you don't care.

And when you hoist yourself out the window, scaling onto the roof, the office is almost as you found it. Only his dead body and a note to proclaim the kill as justified.

It reads the same as always: Hurt a kid and I'll hurt you next.

The Avenger is the name people like to call you. Or the rumors of you. Most of Ketterdam has the wrong ideas about you, but you aren't fixing to correct them. False assumptions only make your job far easier.

Honestly, you'd rather be called a protector. But avenger works just as fine. It gets the point across.

A shiver runs up your spine when you're standing on the rooftop, but a cursory glance around shows nobody. You didn't expect it to, but still. The feeling of eyes following you has only gotten stronger recently, but seeing as nobody has attempted to kill you yet you assume it's fine.

Some people are just too curious for their own good and like being spies. As long as they aren't fucking up your plans, you really don't care. Honestly. The feeling of eyes is perfectly fine with you.

"You could say hi. I don't bite." You murmur into the still air, but to no avail.

The feeling doesn't leave as you head back to your home, a dingy apartment near a lot of the gambling dens. It's rented from a landlord who couldn't give less of a shit—she's never met the guy—which was perfect for you. And the place was cheap, which was a big bonus. Not that you were hurting for money, because you had no problems about stealing from those you killed, but you preferred to use it for better things.

Like buying new knives.

Dropping back down to the alleys, your feet hit the cobbles without a single sound. Subtlety was an art form, one everyone had to perfect in the barrel. Unless they were rich enough to get away without it, but you were not. Sadly.

There's footsteps behind her, and you turn to glare at the stranger. Give them a silent warning to mind their own fucking business.

Luck is not on your side today though, because they lunge at you with outstretched hands and a knife. You dodge, slamming your body into a wall to avoid the attack, hands scrambling for your own daggers.

The attacker is big, an ugly snarl stretched out across his mug, a beard covering half his face. Professional, if you had to guess, and definitely after you. Oh, joy.

This time, you don't give him the opening he wants. You dart forward, metal gleaming, knowing that the only way to walk away is to remove the obstacle in your path. In other words: kill him.

You both scramble, your knife digging into his forearm due to a nicely executed move on his part, but you abandon it in his arm to stab at him with another. A hand on your arm, metal meeting metal, it's a raw fight. Evenly matched.

But you must be off, must be mentally occupied, because you don't hear the footsteps behind you until it's too late. It's not until something slams into your head, sending you staggering with black spots, do you realize someone else is here.

"And that's meant to be the Avenger?" The person behind you scoffs.

"They put up a pretty good fight before you came in." Burly guy answers, stepping toward you.

His shoes are the last thing you see before your eyes roll back.

-

There's a hood over your head.

When you blinks your eyes open, you're met with complete and utter darkness. Although you want to panic—desperately—you don't. You can feel the ropes tying you to some type of chair, your wrists pulled together behind the back of it and your ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Panicking now wouldn't do anything for you, so you just sit in silence.

But you're frustrated. So frustrated that you let your guard drop, that you've gotten yourself into this situation. You refuse to be another Mar, refuses to be the second Avenger that befalls the fate they tried to prevent.

"Makes sense now why he's wanting 'em." Someone is saying, and you try to subtly tilt your head to listen in. "He's always collecting 'em dangerous skinny ones."

"Putting together his own little menagerie." A second voice joins in, laughing.

The words have you tensing, against all instincts. Are they selling you to the menagerie?

Everyone knows what the menagerie is. Girls, tricked into sex work—and sometimes men—and people all too willing to take advantage of them. One of the things you worked against, and, subsequently, one of your worst nightmares.

"Serves this one right. Sardonic, isn't it?"

"You mean ironic?"

"What the difference?"

Oh, saints. You haven't just been kidnapped, but you've been kidnapped by idiots.

"Both of you stop. He'll be here soon." And that's a third voice. Only two people grabbed you, and you're willing to bet this third is the boss.

You don't recognize the voice, but you haven't exactly heard the voices of many people that are high in the chain in the Barrel. Not unless it's them begging for life, and you never hear from them again after.

But now you know for certain that they won't be sending you to the actual menagerie at least. The double confirmation is nice, even if the unknown is a whole other worry.

A door opens somewhere, and there's an abrupt rush of footsteps.

"You're early!" Probably boss guy shouts way too loudly. "The Avenger is all ready for you, but still knocked out."

"How long ago did you grab them?" Oh, that's a new voice. Faintly familiar, although you can't tell from where.

It's been a long time since you've felt so helpless. Like things were out of your carefully measured control. Not since you came home to an empty apartment, a person missing from it.

"A few hours." Probably boss answers. You don't need your eyes to know he's leering at you.

"...and how hard did you hit? Saints."

"They're alive, ain't they? Pay up."

"How much did we agree on again?" A cool voice asks, and your head jerks up. You know that voice, you've stalked the owner of that voice.

Kaz Brekker.

"Oh, look at that. It lives." Probably boss laughs cruelly, and you attempt a glare at him through the hood. "And you know how much we agreed on. Hand it over, Brekker."

And there's your confirmation. Your didn't just imagine it; Kaz Brekker is buying you. Why? You've never interfered with his dealings. In fact, after confirming he isn't into the skin deal, you actively stayed out of his business. You definitely didn't need more enemies than you already have.

The sound of Kruge being exchanged, followed by gleeful exclamations, makes you grit your teeth. If Brekker wants a shot at you, he'll have to do a lot more than pay some money.

"Get out." Brekker says after a moment, cutting the guys who kidnapped you off.

"This is our-"

"Get. Out."

Nobody makes him repeat it a third time, as is evidenced by the sound of footsteps fading away.

He's bossy, but he has the power to be. The cool indifference in his tone, the brilliant business plays he's made. Scrappy, like you, but far more powerful. There's a raw hunger in him you don't have; that nobody but him has.

It's scary as hell.

"Untie them."

There's movement around you, and then the hood is yanked off. You squint, blinking a few times, before focusing on the irritatingly put-together man in front of you. Although looking roughly the same age as you, the Barrel makes anyone be adults far too fast.

Brekker stares down at you, gloved hands clasped onto his cane. Behind him, a Suli girl hovers. Inej, his wraith. A spy, as far as anyone knows. Not an assassin. So that means whoever is working on untying you is Jesper.

"You're in quite the situation." He notes dully, but there's a wicked gleam in his eyes.

It only makes you glare harder. "Thanks, I'm aware."

The rope around your wrists falls away and you bring your hands to your lap, but don't move to untie your ankles. There's a sharpshooter behind you and a girl with knives in front of you; You aren't completely stupid. And that's not to mention the damage you know Brekker can do too.

"I have a deal for you." Brekker says after a moment, taking a step forward. He switches his crow-headed cane to his left hand, holding out his right for a handshake.

You don't take it. "What's the deal?"

"I don't think you're in a position to be asking questions."

"What's. The. Deal?"

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear. Take the deal right now, or we'll dump your body in the harbor to drown."

Well. That's not a lot of options. Everyone knows to negotiate all terms of a deal before accepting, but what choice do you have? He's brilliant for this move, and you hate him for it. Saving your life, buying you, just to force you into a deal to live.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, reason why this is such a horrible idea, you're shaking his hand. 

"Screw you." You spit out, life-saving be damned. Your grip tightens, just to spite him. Although his lips tug down, he doesn't pull away.

His reply is passive.

"Welcome to the crows."

[frumfrumfroo]

I was reading some old Reylo posts and came across a user on here saying that even if Rian Johnson had directed TROS, it still would've been bad, because of interference from higher ups (Rey Skywalker was a consistent theme across the two scripts - but imo, I think that might've just been because they were collectively mad she wasn't a Skywalker lol).

If this isn't an annoying and tiresome question, what do you think? It's hard to speculate but I do find it a bit fun, because there's always been that 'what if' for me that if Rian had done it, maybe it wouldn't have been awful... I guess the implication here is that, was TROS always going to be bad?

I'm ruminating on it a bit because it seems like Disney has kind of segmented the SW fanbases across their shows - Prequel stuff, worldbuilding stuff, OT stuff, and now the romance/Force storyline stuff. All of these combined elements is what made SW so potent, what made something like Reylo so powerful, but it's what makes it a hard brand to sell.

What we heard was that Kennedy asked Rian to do it, but he said he needed more time to write the script and Iger/DLF was unwilling to move the release date. I'm not sure how verified that ever was, but it's the most depressing fucking thing imaginable if true. The same short-term only, immediate profit and your quarterly bonus over the integrity of the company and the franchise which has been destroying Disney as a studio over the last decade or so.

I do think the most blame for tros must ultimately rest with Iger, but it's not like that absolves JJerio from responsibility for how bad it actually is.

I have answered this exact question before, and speculated on related stuff a few times, but unfortunately I haven't been able to find that post for you.

To me, if we learnt anything from DotF being a thing, it's that there was never anyone at the wheel, plotgate was totally true, and the directors were allowed to do whatever they wanted. If Rian had been making the third film from the start, I don't think they would have tried to impose any major story beats on him. The reason it became such a shitshow was The Book of Henry came out and they realised Colin's script was totally unacceptable way too late.

And once the can of meddling was open and you're back to JJ 'no thoughts, head empty' Abrams as a workman director, the suits were basically writing epIX with Terrio's incest fever dreams as connective tissue. They kept elements from Colin's version because they were trying to save time and use as much of the work which had already been done as possible. There was no commitment to any of those ideas, it's just incompetence and with no direction or ideas of their own, they were making a reddit checklist to try to please the whiners rather than writing any actual story.

Like, none of this would have happened if Rian were involved, because Rian would have written an actual story.

SW is mythology and very few people working at DLF seem to have ever understood that or have any idea what it means. Disney has segmented it because that's what they know, they want to have different product to sell to different demographics to maximise saturation and profit. That's their business model. They don't understand the foundation, the Saga itself, and its universal appeal, they seem content to let that stay dead and focus on compartmentalising and pandering to smaller, separate audiences.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Third time the charm?

I am back! @spotaus

Look I got the week off and I am sick. there is very little else I am going to do except game, write and watch vods. So here I am again!

Back to filling up the, in my mind, holes in the story so far before we continue on!

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*------------------*

Dust looks at the many books before him as he tries to think of what to get for Nightmare. Nightmare meanwhile is being a good babybones and stays by Horror eating ice cream.

Dust continues to stare at the books. Trying to think back. What did six year olds have to learn at this point anyway? And how far ahead of that is Nightmare?

Dust knows that Nightmare is smarter than the average six year old. That is a given. Dust knows his vocabular and reading skills are also far above average.

Dust just isn't sure how far certain skills and knowledge got reversed for him.

"Still no luck?"

Dust blinks out of his staring and looks up at Horror "What?"

Horror nods to the books, Nightmare easily held in one arm against his shoulder. Nightmare looks even tinier in Horror's hold and Dust already thinks Nightmare is smaller for his age than he should be.

Smarter but smaller.

Dust shrugs and turns back to the shelf he had been searching "Not sure on his skills."

Horror hums and looks at the books himself. Dust turns back to the options and thinks. They are still moving and universe hopping a lot making it impractical to take too many. One or two at most. That way they can at least start with some classes.

Horror turns to him and Dust looks up to show he has his attention. Horror nods towards the shelf "test level?"

Dust shakes his skull "I could but to specific." if he happens to pick a subject Nightmare still knows about it would set Nightmare up for more difficult classes, even while Nightmare may not be ready for all of those.

Horror hums in understanding as he searches the shelf.

Dust turns back again and thinks. They should at least get a math book. Math is after all to train your brain and problem solving skills. Which would be helpful. Probably basic add and substractions. He searches the shelf and picks out the book that looks promising.

Horror looks at the book before nodding and turning back "What else?"

And that is the problem isn't it? Because most subjects are still too complex for Dust's taste to get. history and geography while both would probably interest Nightmare both are very universe depended and just teaching him stuff about a world they may not even stay in would just be a waste of time.

Horror nudges his shoulder and once Dust looks at him he nods towards the english section "He likes poetry."

Dust blinks and nods. Maybe that is fine? He is already for ahead with english anyway. Maybe giving him something to work and read which is familiar and liked by him while they struggle through math together will be good for his motivation? Dust nods to Horror and walks over there.

Dust frowns at all the titles. He knows very little about this kind of stuff. He searches the story and finds a store clerk and walks over to them "Hello."

The person jumps and turns quickly "oh! Hi! I am sorry i didn't notice you... euh... what can i help with?"

Dust nods to the poetry books "Want a book."

The person blinks and nods "okay.... are you looking for a theme? Or a certain writer? A specific age or focus?" they walk towards the right shelf and look back at Dust.

Dust frowns and glances over at Nightmare nad Horror. Nightmare shrugs and hides his face while Horror looks unsure himself. Dust thinks for a moment "Need a book for the babybones. He already has one." Dust can't remember the name or writer of the book.

The clerk smiles and takes out a thin book with easy rhyming "This should be fine!"

Dust takes it and studies it and it doesn't feel the same. he shakes his skull and hands it back "There was a line in the book... of a poem he reads a lot..." and Dust has read a lot to him. "It went something like 'The dark goes deep but it is no end. Because in the night broken things mend. A time to rest and time to heal, it is the moment when we have a meal.'" Dust frowns as he tries to continue "something something... then later 'The night holds and the night protects. hidden away with all its gems. Holding the stars and letting those shine. until...' and that is what i remember from that..." and he waits.

The clerk frowns "That kinda seems like a few writers from the great depression..." they search the shelf and pull out an older looking book. They hand it over and frown "It seems a bit complex for a tiny child though..." and they shoot a smile in Nghtmare's direction. Not that nightmare is looking at any of them.

Dust looks through the book and nods "I think this will work..." it seems more on par of the book that Nightmare has been reading.

They go to the counter and Dust pays for the two books.

Dust and Horror leave the store together. The person says something but Dust isn't paying any attention to them as he checks the math book. the poetry book already in his bag.

Horror looks a bit embarrased and Dust frowns "What is wrong?"

Horror shrugs and rubs his cheek sheepish "Just... the what that person said."

Dust frowns as he glares back at the shop "Something bad?" he can go back and make them pay easily enough-

Horror holds up his one free hand "no no! Nothing like that... just..." and he shrugs as he keeps a tight hold on Nightmare. Seems like Nightmare is getting fussy. meaning either he is tired or hungry and he goes to acting grumpy because that is easier to hide behind than admitting he needs something.

Dust blinks back and nods at Horror "If you are sure-"

"Horror! Dust! Wait up!"

Dust freezes and glares "Oh are you fucking with me." That are the fucking stars. shit. He looks at Horror and sees that Horror made the same conclusion and that Nightmare is frozen in his hold.

They share a look. Dust is holding unto too many things to do the same as he did before and he doubt he can use the same tactic twice to get them out.

They have both been spotted.

Horror looks at Nightmare and clearly gets an idea as he pulls Nightmare back a bit "Stay still and don't move."

Some confusion brekas through the panicked look but Nightmare nods and that is all Horror needed as he lifts his shirt and just puts Ngihtmare under it nad IN his ribcage.

Moments later horror has the shirt on normally again and Nightmare isn't in view at all.

Right. Nightmare is small enough to be hidden like that-

running steps and Blue and Dream stop by them. Blue pants "FInally! Am I happy to see you!"

Dust and Horror share a confused look and Dust frowns "Since when?"

Blue looks a bit sheepish and looks at Dream. Dream looks very uncomfortable as he rubs his hands "I... euh... I was wondering... euh..." he looks around and spots the books Dust is holding "oh! Getting things for your little one?" and he smiles.

Dust nods and only after agreeing he remembers what Cross said last time they came across the Stars.

Dream nods once he realises that Dust isn't going to speak "Right! Yes. That is amazing! I... I see everything is well? How is the little one?"

Blue nods "We realised you never told us the little guy's name..."

Dust knows he is glaring as he speaks slowly "He is doing fine." and he stops there. shooting them a challenging look.

Blue coughs in his hand before looking at Horror "sup!"

Horror however looks many times more annoyed then Dust feels. Probably because Horror right now feels the nervous and anxious magic of Ngihtmare a lot more directly than they feel when they are just holding him. Putting him more on edge.

Blue gives a slow nod and looks away "Right..."

Dust raises a brow "Did you want anything specif or just wanted to waste our time?"

Dream flinches before smiling "I... I did have a request... I was... I was wondering... If you guys could ask Nightmare to meet with me?"

Dust freezes for a moment before his glare gets worse "Why the fuck would we do that? Just so you can lure him into a trap? Hunt him down some more?"

Dream shakes his skull quickly "I just want to talk..." he rubs his arm. "It is... personal."

Horror crosses his arms "I remember this happening once before." Dust nods and glares himself. it had been a whole thing where Dream tried to stage an intervention about Nightmare needing to be better and see that there are other ways to continue on instead of this path of hate he had set on.

The fact Dream had gone it to an adult Nightmare was bad. The fact that they now knew that their tiny babybones boss was in there the whole time just makes it worse.

Drema looks pale and shakes his skull "It isn't liek that! and... I know i shouldnt have done that back then either! I... I didn't have all the facts and information but I need to talk with nightmare about it-"

Killer appears and has his knife right by Dream's chin "Don't bother. You try to go near Boss ever again and we will end you." Killer's voice is low and dangerous. "We haven't been doing shit to your precious multiverse. leave us alone."

Dust watches the standoff when Cross joins his side and looks him and Horror both over worried and anxious. A small whine starts to leave his throat when Dust signs that Horror has Nightmare hidden. making sure to use their personal coded signs for it. Cross relaxes and leans against him as the tension disappears.

Dust looks back at the standoff to see that Dream has backed up, still looking pale and now heartbroken as well. Blue seems to be trying to reason with Killer but you have more luck reasoning with a pig in the mud than trying to get Killer to stop doing what he wants.

Dust raises his voice a tiny bit "We are leaving." the other three nod and Dsut looks at the two Stars "Stop bothering us." this was already the third time they happened to be in the same universe and Dust did not want to make it a fourth.

They quickly leave and once out of sight make a portal somewhere else. They hide away and quickly check on Nightmare. dust watches as Killer coos and nuzzles Nightmare and feels a bit calmer.

It is fine. They will not let anyone get their babybones.

*----------------*

And the third time the Stars came across the gang and Nightmare! (one of which they didn't fully notice but it still counts!)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I please request for Pomni and Ragatha (separately) with a fem porcelain ballerina doll reader who despite being physically fragile, still likes to do reckless things like fighting against NPC villains (and Jax if he's being too mean), or dancing too roughly. Even though by the end of it, she still ends up breaking off a limb or two, or another piece of her porcelain body, so she often times needs to be patched up and glued/taped back together by a concerned Pomni/Ragatha

Pomni and Ragatha x porcelain!ballerina!reader whos reckless!

got a few requests in the inbox, so i think im going to knock those out then go eat and come back to write some random stuff eheheh or maybe ill draw today... hmm.. we shall see!

POMNI:

i wrote ragathas part first but i think pomni would also be a little... worried... but i dont think she would feel shed have any place or right to tell you to reel it back. i think she would try to make some attempts but those usually fall flat, be it because you dont improve your habits or she cuts herself off.. you know? while i think ragatha would get used to you breaking apart, i dont think pomni would. doesnt matter how long shes in the digital circus, shes never ever really going to get used to watching your face crack and fall off after you face plant into the ground after tripping over something jax left out... i think if the conversation of your habits being brought up would have to come up from you, noticing pomni getting tenser when shes watching you practice your dancing or doing your thing during an IHA... similarly, i think this one is going to have to be something you work on together since someone can only go for so long worrying over someone else, you know?

RAGATHA:

between the two ragatha is more likely to scold you for your actions, especially if you're breaking off your limbs. sure you can just stick them back on and the rules of the digital world will bind it back on you... but doesnt it still suck? on top of that ragatha just doesnt like the idea of you tossing yourself into danger or being too rough with yourself, i mean the horror in her eyes when she sees your arms breaking off is undeniable.. i think if it really comes to it she would start getting firmer with it and try to get you to tone it down... at least a little bit.. gives off the vibes of a worried mom friend as shes fussing over you.. please for her sake try to work to tone it down, you mean a lot to her and it doesnt matter if the damage isnt as dire due to the digital world.. probably puts in the smaller pieces and shards that broke off while you sit and talk

[hms-no-fun]

Do your political views influence your writing? and if they do, how so?

this is sort of a tough question. i mean obviously my political views affect my writing, i believe that's true of every writer. the "how" is throwing me for a bit of a loop though. maybe partly because pretty much my only public-facing writing at this point is godfeels, which really isn't indicative of the kind of stuff i spent my entire pre-transition life writing. which actually makes it harder for me to introspect on the subject because transition brought with it political radicalization. i'm not just a woman now, i'm a communist, and i've spent a lot more time thinking about propaganda and hierarchies and economic power dynamics. so i'm definitely more intentional about this stuff now... what the hell, let's give it the ol college try

i'm typically drawn to characters in working/middle-class positions, because those are the people i've spent most of my life around. everything i write is at least partially autobiographical, as seen in the vast majority of my pre-transition protagonists being sad adolescent/twenty-something boys crumbling under the weight of social expectations they have no interest in meeting but can't imagine an alternative to. it is frankly extremely funny how much of my early fiction was about characters who desperately wanted to transition but utterly lacked the language & framework for doing so... because i also lacked that knowledge. i have multiple hundred+ page books that i never finished because i guess i couldn't even let myself imagine what the logical conclusion would be.

in my subjects, i've always had opinionated characters who got mad about social ills. a loooooot of my old short stories started with characters arguing about politics. i was raised secular and grew up in the bible belt during the bush years. i've always had a strong moral compass and a tendency to Say Shit, and that absolutely comes through in everything i write. it's an impulse i have to tamp down on a lot, because as tempting as it is to get all your hits in whenever you can, a lot of times they come across as infantile and pointless. you know, dude standing up and giving a Big Important Speech about whatever social ill you happened to read about on tumblr that day. sometimes you can get good stuff from that you've really gotta earn it.

my current work is definitely a lot more coherently political than my old stuff. obviously the witchkind legion is my attempt to imagine a post-scarcity communist utopia that is still deeply flawed in its own unique ways. come home, wolf was a gesture in a similar direction albeit on a smaller scale, imagining a communist nation funding a rewilding initiative in collaboration with a historically oppressed werewolf population. i guess i'm thinking a lot more about The Material Conditions these days. pure character drama just doesn't do it for me anymore, it feels disconnected from the real. i want to know where my characters live and how expensive the food is. and i want my stories to be saying interesting things as much as possible, instead of repeating tired tropes out of a lack of introspection.

when i went through a Social Justice arc in my mid-twenties, i really became aware of the fact that all my stories were about straight white dudes in suburban environments. i started noticing accidental racism & sexism & homophobia & etc etc all over the place, laundered in through various unquestioned assumptions and a fairly sheltered upbringing. in hindsight this is a big reason i stopped writing fiction altogether from 2013 to 2019, that i felt totally trapped by my inherited biases. funny how much changed when i came out as transgender! these days the trick is finding ways to utilize that experience constructively. for instance, as someone who once used the r-slur with gleeful thoughtless disregard, how might i go about incorporating that experience into my writing thoughtfully? there's an understandable tendency in young writers to course correct hard around The Problematic, that i think can very often result in sterile text that's too timid to grapple with real issues. there's a learning experience attached to realizing that the r-slur (for instance) isn't just a word but a historical object, a linguistic bludgeon with valances far beyond anything within my limited sphere of experience. just because i don't use that word anymore doesn't mean other people don't, and those other people are not necessarily any more Bad than *i* was as a teenager. combined & uneven development and all that.

so now with the Upsilon Kids i'm trying to deliberately explore Problematic & Troubled Teens from a place of empathy and personal experience. i'm not setting out to Make A Point mind you, but a point will be made regardless so i might as well put some thought into it. this is another place where it's REALLY IMPORTANT to have a check on your political impulses. it's extremely easy for the desire to Make A Point completely override character voice and dramatic consistency. this is why we practice and try new things and challenge ourselves as writers, so we never feel like we've got it all Figured Out for too long.

well i hope that was a useful and not totally embarrassing answer because i'm going cross-eyed now and i absolutely don't have the attention span to proofread all that lmao

[rin-and-jade]

Oops.. I’ve Lost Track.. : A Post about Unintended Time Traveling

Have you ever mistook that today’s thursday and not a wednesday even if you’re so sure? Have you ever wondered why time flies so fast while nothing’s done for the day? Or maybe when those “five more minutes” promises turned into hours until its too late?

Then you might have problems with keeping track, managing, and predicting how long it takes to do something,, this is called time blindness. Which is common among neurodivergent folks.

So it was time travel..?

Surely, but not as fun as how movies convey them. Time blindness can affect people in different ways, such as:

Losing track of days, hours, or to minutes; not being aware how long it has been.

Have a faster/slower sense of internal clock. Meaning, minutes can feel like hours or vice versa.

Problems being on time to appointments, events, and etc; due to faulty predictions on how long it takes for something, such as dressing up or driving to the location.

Trouble remember when was the last time you ate a meal and drank water.

Over-focusing on a specific task/ interest and miss a huge chunk of your routine (compensating or catching up).

And more..

It often affects people with ADHD; but not always limited to autism, depression, anxiety disorders, OCD, bipolar, CDD, and even a byproduct of constant stress itself!

For the plurals out there:

There’s it’s own set of experiences + the addition of the general ones before, such as:

Time looks disoriented due to switching and lost sense of chronological anchor (can’t remember the previous moments to make sense how long time has gone by).

What happened long ago e.g. 1 month, felt like it happened last week. Vice versa.

Alters perceiving sense of time in different, varying speeds.

And, with the addition of CDD’s high comorbidity with other conditions that may worsen time blindness.

Systems can have a harder time due to the existing amnesia barriers that fragments memories, and sometimes this can be super stressful to deal with--but fret not! For whoever needs some tips, i gotchu.

What should i do??

Let's get straight to the point, here's the steps:

Create a routine. If you're prone to missing work or leisure due to it, or need to get things done on time,, having a planned schedule or routine will be the most important part. You can do this in any way preferred, for example, sticking to a 7-day plan that has your school/work/breaks in it already,, or if you're sporadic, you can pre-plan what to do for the day and jot them down as the goal.

Make use of accommodations. Set designated alarms,, maybe for your meals, or hydration reminders, or if you don't want to overshoot that gaming session. Putting clocks that can be visible in your vision also can help keeping you on track. Create checklists to keep track of your chores or whatnot. Maybe write down notes on today's progress, anything with your own creativity!

Break work into smaller steps to ease up. Sometimes procrastination can accompany time blindness, leaving us to do 0 work until its near deadline or the day is almost over, separating the tasks to smaller bits and do them in pieces on your own pace. And sometimes your focus is prone to wander to places if the task is too long or tedious/boring, so this also helps.

Be aware of which activities you're prone to forget time. List or remember them so whenever you wanted to hop back in a special interest, actively remind yourself beforehand and you may make use of number 2.

Lastly, commit to it. This is where all the magic is at, and there will still be days where it tumbles apart and you miss a couple of things.. don't worry, we all are never perfect, there'll always be a day or two where everything's messy and miss that deadline or other stuffs. You haven't failed, keep going.

I hope this could serve you hope that your time blindness is 100% manageable, this post is for every neuro-spicy folks (and systems) out there who's struggling with it,, and i hear your struggles! Feel free to add on your experience or engage with the post if you have any further questions.

(This post is applicable to everyone in need)

- j

[moodymisty]

hello! I love your darksiders content! I was wondering if you could write some spicy or suggestive fic with War?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Author’s Note: I'm glad you like my stuff! I really love Darksiders and I'm always glad to try my hand at writing for the series. There's some crazy good writers in here, so I try my best. I hope you enjoy this as well! I had a small snippet of an idea jotted down for awhile, and your request gave me some ideas and the drive to finish it.

I wrote this mostly from War's pov, since i thought it would be cute. I hope this is suggestive enough ;3

Relationships: War/Fem!Reader

Warnings: A lil' lewd but not full NSFW however still 18+ only, Bathing in a lake, War is a buzzkill and human is a silly thing, first kiss, nudity

"Oh wow, that lake is beautiful."

War usually pays no mind to the scenery around him, but once you mention it, he does take a quick glance off to the side.

You're right; The view is beautiful. The light is shining off the water, which is reflecting the trees in an almost perfect one to one thanks to the pristine nature of the water.

War simply grunts in understanding of you, and agreement.

After that War picks up the pace again, continuing his walk forward. The metal of his armor moves and plates clinks against each other, as well as the soft noises of the leather beneath it all stretching and shifting. He has a destination in mind, and isn't content to meander the entire time.

So he's quite intent to keep moving, up until he realizes that there is a noticeable lack of a smaller, quieter set of human footsteps behind him.

When he does realize he turns almost frighteningly quick for someone of his stature on one heel, a hand flexing and instantly raising to waist height in preparation of grabbing Chaoseater; Before your body enters his vision. You're still just taking a gander at that lake you'd mention moments ago, looking through a sparse gap in the trees.

Safe and sound. He'd had a split second vision of you being gone in his moment of laxness, and he's silently relived it was nothing but nonsense his battle trained brain had conjured up.

War relaxes as much as he can relax, his brow raising ever so slightly; But his lips stay in the usual firm set position as he watches you. Looking at him you purse your lips, leaning slightly in the direction of the crystal clear lake. You take one step towards it to the side, the weight of your pack shifting off center making you nearly stumble.

"Maybe... I can take a dip?"

War looks down at you, almost confused by your wording for a moment, before it suddenly clicks.

"No."

He watches closely at the way your shoulders drop and eyes get wider, backing up in the direction of the lake anyways.

"Come on, please? I feel awful and I know I smell disgusting. I want to be in somewhat acceptable shape before we see anyone else..."

You grumble something under your breath about how he's lucky to have armor keeping his skin clean, though his glare convinces you to purse your lips on that matter.

Most of the time it isn't as if he's smelled particularly peachy keen either, it's just that War cares far less about those sorts of things. Why bother cleaning his armor, if he's going to just re-dirty it the next time he gets into a fight.

Though War has been coming to an understanding over time that Humans do work a bit different than Nephilim, and that it extends to more than just odd speech patterns.

And if it'll make you happy... Then he can live with it.

War continues to stare you down in that typical way he does, one you've been growing used to.

"I'll just be a minute. Promise."

War still finds it a bit odd that you use sealing words like promise and swear on your heart so readily, especially with a Horsemen, but you haven't broken any yet. Part of him wonders if that is a common thing with humans, or just you.

Nodding, the white strands of his hair brush over his cheeks, as you put your bag on the ground.

War however doesn't move beyond him turning his body to face away from you, giving you a clear view of Chaoseater lodged firmly on his back. His arms are firmly planted at his sides, his feet perfectly even with his shoulders.

"Uh..." You stop with a loose grip on the waistband of your pants- not having dedicated to taking them off yet, and once you speak up, War turns back slightly to look at you.

He hears the questioning tone in your voice, hands hovering in front of your stomach as you clearly wait for him to depart so you can fully undress.

War, suddenly realizing even more so the embarrassment of the entire situation, uncharacteristically stutters for just a moment when he speaks.

"I will stay here until you are finished. You will, be at your most vulnerable." He turns away fully once again, implying that he won't look, as he isn't sure he can say much more about the situation without getting red enough in the face that you'll notice.

Perhaps his elder brothers had the right idea when the both began donning masks...

War leaves no further room to combat the issue, and he figures you've accepted this outcome as well; As you don't reply, and he hears your footsteps move away from him more towards the shoreline. There's a rustling of clothes and a grunt of effort as you lean over- to take off your footwear, War guesses.

Then there's another sound; The metal clinking of your belt as you undo it, and the rustle of thicker fabric as you take off your pants. There can't possibly be much more you have to take off, unless you have more hidden layers underneath your clothing that aren't quite visible. You don't wear armor like him, so it's not as if you have to spend an eternity unbuckling piece after piece of plate-

"Ugh, there."

War catches a color fling into the corner of his vision, and daring to glance down, he sees the fabric of your shirt land right by his right boot, his neck quickly tightening as he goes nearly ramrod straight.

By the time his shoulders lower just a tiny bit, he hears the sound of water softly splashing as you step into the lake. It keeps going until you still, and the water only makes noise when you occasionally move or scoop some into your palms.

For the sake of his sanity he hopes that you'll make this quick, as he's not fond of having you out of sight; Something he hasn't really realized about himself until recently.

He knows you aren't entirely defenseless, but this realm isn't meant for humans, and many of it's denizens far out match you in size alone.

"Want to join me?" He suddenly hears you joke, shaking him from his thoughts. He can't think of any sort of response to give you, and so he simply stays silent, unable to make his tongue move.

Having gotten silence in response, War can hear you mumble under your breath:

"Like a statue..."

He's threatened people for speaking like that to him, even less, but you always are able to get away with it. Sometimes he hates how much leeway he gives you, but it's not as if he's made any effort to stop doing so. If anything, he's only given you more as you've spent more time together.

"Woah-!"

At the sound of your yell which quickly gets cut off War turns around and notices you're nearly gone, only the top of your head visible along with one of your hands reaching upward above the water.

Without thinking he rushes in after you, treading full speed into the lake and grabbing you to pull you up. He reaches for the first part of you he can grab, circling his large arm right around your middle to haul you to him. The other is reaching for Chaoseater, holding it outward in preparation to fight whatever had grabbed at you.

It doesn't seem it was anything at all however, as other than shaking your head to get the water out of your eyes, you don't seem at all concerned.

"Ack, thanks, but I just fell."

The was a sudden drop off into much deeper water that you hadn't been anticipating, and it quickly forced you to go from standing to suddenly attempting to tread water. War however had thankfully had saved you from taking in a breath full of water, but also had put himself into yet another predicament.

Your bare skin now presses against his armor and tattered cowl, while your hands grab at the seams of his pauldrons. His gauntlet covered hands cover a good portion of your waist, holding you as if you weigh nothing at all. Then again, most things to War feeling like they weigh nothing at all.

While given how close you are War he can't see anything below your collarbone, it's more so the implication that has both of you stumbling. You're completely bare, water beads spread all over your shoulders, as your hair sticks to your face.

He's frozen, as are you, but neither of you attempt to move away quite yet; And for a moment, his eyes drift down to your lips. Water droplets are still falling down your face, wrapping over your lips and dripping down your chin.

He watches the way your eyes glance away from his for a moment before looking back, and War swears your face is closer than it just was before. Your arms are now wrapped around his neck, water dripping off them and into his armor between the seams and soaking into the fabric of his cowl. He doesn't know quite when you did it, in his rare moment of distraction.

Your breath brushes over his skin for just a moment before you press your lips to his, feeling the way he suddenly and quite enthusiastically presses back.

Your arms tighten around him, while he sheathes his sword safely onto his back before that hand comes to join his other. You're so much smaller than him he has no need to use it, but even if he can't feel you much with his gauntlets in the way, it's still an unconscious desire.

His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, and almost feel hot; Feeling as he lets out just the softest groan into your mouth. You can feel some shorter strands of his hair brushing against your face, large hands pulling you almost impossibly closer. His armor feels cold even after dunking in the warm water, but it is an odd feeling; Metal armor plates on bare skin.

When you pull your lips away from his they do so with a soft pop, before you look at him with a smallish smile.

"Do you, mind sitting me down? So I can get dressed?"

War, quite quickly, realizes you're still technically in the buff, and sets you down and turns faster than you'd thought possible. He trudges through the water in his heavy armor, making it to the shore even faster than you.

And not once does he look, returning to his spot from before like an ever present sentry.

Shaking off more of the water so you can keep your clothes dry, you pull them on with the much more comfortable feeling of being clean.

Well worth the time spent in your opinion. Now you can walk around without the fear of spelling like death itself, or feeling like you're covered in an ever-present coat of grime. It's quick work to put on your top, but it takes a bit longer to put on your pants and shoes, stumbling around to do so.

"Are you finished?" War suddenly speaks, hearing the rustle of your pack as you pick it up.

"Yep. Nice and clean now. Ready to go?"

War grunts, and quickly begins moving. He's considering summoning Ruin to speed this up, though he doesn't dislike walking like this with you. He enjoys the company, something in his many long years he never thought he'd say.

"You know," Your voice fades off, though it's obvious you're going to continue. "Next time you should join me."

War nearly chokes on his own breath, before he decides to quickly summon Ruin; Who canters into scene and disrupts you before you could speak anymore on the matter.

And before War's mind could wander any further off.

[gffa]

feel free to ignore if you think this is a hornets nest but what’s your opinion on devin grayson? personally, i think the bad rap is more so because she’s a woman - there’s men who have written worse but haven’t been torn down as viciously.

I'm honestly not fully sure of what her rep is, is she pretty reviled? Because any time I see criticism lately, it's usually centered around whoever's currently writing (right now I see a ton more for King and Taylor, I don't think I've seen anyone hardly mention Devin Grayson), but to be fair I'm still acclimating to being back, I have over a decade's worth of missed comics to cover and all. For me, I remember so vividly that I was so excited when she was first announced as upcoming on the Nightwing solo series because I'd loved her Gotham Knights stories, she seemed like she was right in my wheelhouse, that she wrote Dick and Babs interaction that I liked, she touched on Dick's issues with Bruce as a central figure in his life, etc. She seemed designed to appeal to me specifically! But then the issues started coming out and I was just very underwhelmed by her writing, not even her writing daddy issues with Dick and Bruce could do it for me and that's my ENTIRE REASON for being here, like how do you write it so even I am like, ".......no."???, and it felt to me like she was good at telling smaller, more self-contained stories, but that she didn't know what to do with the character when she had to plan his overall direction for the entire book. I think part of it is that she's a bit of a product of the time--I recently reread some of her stuff that I don't remember being all that controversial at the time, like the Romani story she did never jumped out at me while I was reading it back in the day (or maybe I just hung out in the wrong places for that sort of thing? I primarily got my interaction through the Nightwing/Bludhaven Yahoo! group) but I picked it up again and WOOF, that was bad. And, at the time, I don't really recall much reaction over the Tarantula storyline, either. But part of it is also that I just don't find her stuff to hold up, I read something more recent of hers (a single-issue story in an anthology or something? it's already slipped my mind, you can tell how much of an impression it left on me) and it just sort of slid right off me because I wasn't connecting with any of it. Ultimately, I don't hate her writing, but I don't find it particularly compelling, either. I think she had some strong views of the character that didn't mesh with a lot of people and was a lot more open about them than a lot of other writers were and I do think writers who try to be progressive and do it very imperfectly (which I suspect she was, given how she's a queer woman who probably occupies a lot of the same spaces we do) tend to get more backlash than those who don't do anything of interest or stay inside the safer zones. So, I feel like it's kind of middle ground territory for me--I've seen straight male writers get torn down just as much, but also you're not wrong that some spaces do go after women who dare to write a character differently, that I think her work has a lot of problems for me, especially because I'm not sure how much is clumsy wording on her part for her explanations/product of its time and how much is genuinely weird AF objectification stuff, but there are some cute moments as well. But also I haven't reread those Nightwing issues in like 20 years, so I'm purely going off my memories of what I experienced at the time and I have no idea how I might react differently, having grown so much that I'm basically a different person now, too, you know?

[arcadekitten]

Hello AK! I'm currently writing an IMC (integrated marketing campaign) paper and wanted to do you as my business for the paper!

It's pretty much just going over simple stuff like what is your brand? Why was it made? What inspired you to make games? Stuff along those lines!

If you'd care to answer some questions that would be so much help!! I understand if you don't want to though or have certain objections to it or are just too busy to!

First question would be, when did you first start releasing games? What was the first game you ever made? Whether publicly or privately you may choose!

Second question, would you view anybody else as a "competitor" in the game making world? Maybe like a friendly competitor for who can make more quality/quantity games?

Third question, what do you as a game creator think makes you special? Like if you had to give an "elevator speech" about why you're a game creator that stands out from the rest!

Those are pretty much all the questions I have, if you do end up replying thank you so much! If not, that's okay too!! Thank you for your time either way! :) ❤️

I will answer these (should you still need them) because I feel bad leaving you hanging. However, in the future, I advise anyone with similar questions (like for an assignment) to DM me instead of sending them through askbox! They could be easily missed and also it's a lot to answer all at one time. I am very flattered you'd like to "interview" me and I apologize if my answers are short and blunt again for the reasons stated above.

My first publicly released game was Cemetery Mary in July of 2020. I had worked on smaller projects before that, but they were personal projects made for and full of inside jokes for friends. Cemetery Mary was the first game I made that I decided I wanted to share with more than just my friends. ===

I think trying to view other people as competitors, especially in the indie dev community, is an incredibly damaging and poisonous mindset. Other indie devs are not my competitors even in a friendly or playful way. My goal is not to make "better" games than them and I hope their goal isn't to make "better" games than me. These are my fellow community members. I am able to get to where I am because of other indie devs who helped me when I needed help. I am happy when I get to help other indie devs accomplish their goals with any knowledge I might have. I don't think there should be a need to compete because there is room for everyone here. ===

I only think I am special because everyone is special. No one can tell my stories for me and similarly, I would not be able to tell someone else's stories for them. My stories can sometimes be niche and not everyone enjoys them and I think that is a good thing, because it just means my stories are all the more perfect for those who really needed to see them. I don't know if that fits entirely, but it's what I got

[fizzlefroth]

The ultimate journal for the ultimate journey

Hello everybody I hope you’re ready for one of those immense posts people do that no one reads, though I suggest some of you do, it’s important. [b]Hopefully, I will never need to write down this much in the future. Just know, for short, that everything I do is to favor quality over quantity.

I’ve been thinking it over and I came to a conclusion. Some of you might remember a post from some time back where I mentioned my work being boring.

Many of you disagreed, and you were right. The problem with my work is not that It’s boring, but that it became incredibly corporate. That’s what’s been bugging me. This profile started with the intent of being somewhat of a journal for me to keep track of things on my way to get back into art proper and to try and put myself on the path of self-improvement after a long time of stagnation.

Posting was supposed to be secondary, exploring was the focus, and it had worked… Up to the point when Gone Feral found success (DON’T WORRY I’m not going to stop updating, nor am I going to take a break), more precisely, when I decided to try and make it a business.

Opening a Patreon is fine, but there is such a thing as too soon. I shouldn’t put the weight of my economic success on the thing I love doing the most. Not through this current format, at the very least. The early access ruined my fun, and the voting, entertaining as it was, led me to draw things I’m not all too happy with.

That’s not on my patrons, of course, they have been incredibly kind since, well, they HAVE been supporting me (big shoutout to you, guys). It’s my fault, however. I put the options there, I whored my character out… And I couldn’t handle it, much as I tried. My page became a flurry of preview pictures and a permanent reminder that I have a paywall up which… I can’t stand.

I want people to be able to enjoy what I do for free.

Fun fact is that this isn’t my first attempt either. This problem started a long time ago, when I was told that, well, I could make this a business, much before I created this account. I tried multiple times throughout the years, I had multiple Patreons and a lot of false starts.

It took me this one to understand why none of them succeeded. It’s because I will never be able to make a living out of my art. Not only because I genuinely think I’m not good enough (yet), but because I don’t want to. It’s the wrong path for me to take, at least for now. And it’s fine.

It's okay. Finding a personality as an artist, being transparent and genuine with myself... I choose to give it full precedence.

I’m not ruling the option out, but I will stop looking for succeass in that direction. If it ever happens? Good. Otherwise? I’m finding another solution to get the mula. Art is for me to speak with myself and you, cheesy as it sounds.

Now, here’s what I’m going to do: Patreon is NOT going to close, but it will be depowered. It’s going back to being a glorified tip-jar, along with Discord access to a much smaller, more modest server. But whether I work on the comic or not does not depend on it anymore, this way I can delay a page as much as I need and keep all the surprises to myself, not only regarding the comic itself. And it will NOT be advertised outside of my bio and MAYBE some completed, free-to-access work here and there.

Commissions, particularly commission streamings, are STAYING. Because I still need the cash, I don’t have my old job back yet. As a matter of fact, on the off chance that I will ever power the Patreon up again, it will probably be modeled around commissions, which are the only things I make that work around a “business model” of sorts.

As for everything else, yeah, I will go back to keep all my stuff a secret that I can enjoy and toy with until it’s out. I like it much more that way. I want to focus on the making and the creative process as much as I can.

I know this was a big read, I usually keep these thoughts to myself, but in this case… People who are giving me money are directly involved, and I think they all have the right to know what’s happening in great detail.

If you managed to get through this wall of text, first off: [b]CONGRATULATIONS.[/b] Secondly, thanks a lot. See you as soon as I have a proper idea~

[hongism]

update;

tldr: all i’ll be writing on this blog moving forward is mists of celeste. if that’s all you want to know about the status of both me and this blog, then you can stop reading here! i won’t be offended or bothered if that’s all you want to know!

however if you’re interested in a more in-depth explanation as to why i came to this decision then you’re welcome to keep reading to understand where i’m at.

why am i doing this?

there are multiple layers to why i’m taking this step. first off this is not a goodbye, as much as i’m sure many people are expecting that with how often i’ve been absent from this blog this year alone. one, i made a promise to myself when i very first started this blog almost 4 years ago that i would deactivate once i reached a certain milestone. since then, i’ve chosen not to deactivate and i think i will always leave this blog up as an archive even when the day comes where i will not be here or be posting anything here. i also have hopes and goals to finish mists of celeste and i think i will hit that milestone before i finish the story (maybe not anymore but, that’s beside the point). 

two, with being so close to such a significant milestone, i think there are certain expectations i have regarding my fics and the success of those fics. frankly, almost 90% of my following came from when i started writing for a.tz/s.kz, not b.ts. so it isn’t a disconnect in what people followed me for because i haven’t been writing for b.ts for several years by now. but even so, my fics still don’t do well. the reblogs mostly come from me, the feedback mostly comes from people who read from me regularly or mutuals, and the ratio of likes to reblogs is a never-ending issue that is never going to change. i’m grateful for anyone who stops to read and leave feedback on my works, and i am especially grateful to anyone who stops to read and leave feedback on my works that are not mists of celeste. and now with tumblr mucking up the tag system and preventing my works from being shown in the tags even when i do everything recommended, my works are going out to an even smaller audience that is not even 1% of my follower count. even with atinyblr being slow these days, i see other writers doing well and getting 500-1000+ notes with apparent ease compared to what i see on my own works. 

the shift in interest in the community has also affected me a lot. people are less likely to read a 10k+ fic that has plot mixed in with smut compared to a 1-2k pwp smut fic, which is fine. but that isn’t what i enjoy writing. and i understand that over time, i have lost the audience i used to have when it comes to writing that stuff. even for moc, barely anyone on the taglist i run with every update reads the updates. it’s an upsetting reality for me as the writer because i see my follower count go up and up yet my interaction and notes go down and down. which is primarily why i don’t like being here anymore to be frank. i have my friends from here but i talk to them off tumblr so i don’t feel a need or a compulsion to be here to talk to friends. i know that whatever i post won’t be received the way i wish for it to be received. and i now have this lingering fear that anytime i post anything at all tumblr will decide it shouldn’t show in tags at all.

and three, people are still dragging up things that happened in the past that i have tried so hard to move away from and want nothing to do with anymore. and belatedly, as much as i changed my url at the time, i realize that i won’t ever be able to fully distance myself from being involved in that in the past as long as i am calypso, hongism. i really hate that because i’ve had to come to terms with a lot of the bad things i suffered here on this website and in my real life relationships that were public here on tumblr, but i will always be known for my association with those things in a negative light.

what about your other series?

i won’t be writing them anymore! i appreciate all the love and affection given to them but frankly after blood masquerade i came to the realization that even if there are a lot of people interested in an idea, they aren’t all going to be interested in the final product. the ratio of votes to even likes on the fic itself was so grossly skewed that i found myself both baffled and discouraged to even continue writing it. aka; why am i putting so much heart and soul into something and not seeing an outcome that is balanced or fair? it wasn’t even an insignificant difference but rather something close to a 50+ difference in notes and votes.

will you ever change your mind?

maybe? maybe not? probably not. at some point in the distant future i might find myself wanting to go back to ideas that i had, like the wooyoung and san series i had planned for october this year but right now i have such a dismal and bad relationship with this blog in general that i don’t even want to think about posting anything here.

and one more note regarding moc:

i think i’m done writing interims. there has always been a disconnect in the readers of the main chapters versus readers of the interims, and i’ve always known that would be the case, but it is greatly disheartening as the writer to see such a divide on the work that i put my heart and soul into. so for now moving forward i just want to do main chapters and nothing else unless i feel so in love with an idea that i just have to put it out there.

overall i understand that this post as a whole is very moody and emotional and negative but i hope you all understand that this has been something i’ve been struggling with for the better part of a year here on this blog. i feel a disconnect and i feel no way to grab the ropes and tie myself back here the way i used to be here. even looking at other writers who have come up into the scene on atinyblr, i feel very lacking as a writer and i also feel a disconnect from them because i’m a writer who has been around here since 2020. it’s dumb to say that i feel ostracized in any sort of way but i do feel a bit distant, and i understand that in my attempts to curate a corner for myself on the internet, i created a very specific niche for myself in mists of celeste. i have always said that that is my magnum opus, and i still believe that to be the case. and at risk of sounding horribly arrogant, i feel i’ve isolated myself on an island that is mists of celeste and any time i try to broaden my horizons to do something outside of moc, it’s destined to fail. so for the sake of my mental well-being i need to step back and dedicate hongism to mists of celeste so that i can curb any expectations i might have had about other projects i wanted to do. 

so no, it’s not a goodbye, just a note that i’m slowing down and that the only thing i’ll be presenting to you all here on hongism moving forward is mists of celeste. it’s something that’s said a lot but it’s not something that i admitted myself until recently, but having come back multiple times this year with this mentality of ‘if i just push myself through this then it’ll be fine’, i now realize that if i don’t care for myself then how can i expect anyone else to care about me either? and i think i need to do this to care for myself and have a better mentality about my presence here.