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"You should create for yourself" and "it's okay to feel discouraged when creating your own original projects if no one interacts with them" are two sentences that should be able to co-exist with each other
On the one hand, you should kill that capitalist in your head that tells you to make art only for the enjoyment of other people. On the other hand, it's totally fine to be disappointed that you spent hours or even days on something that only got 4 notes. You can feel both ways.
"You should create for yourself" and "it's okay to feel discouraged when creating your own original projects if no one interacts with them" are two sentences that should be able to co-exist with each other
On the one hand, you should kill that capitalist in your head that tells you to make art only for the enjoyment of other people. On the other hand, it's totally fine to be disappointed that you spent hours or even days on something that only got 4 notes. You can feel both ways.
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I love it when traumatised characters are hard to love. I love it when it when they're vicious and cruel and unfair to people who care about them. I love it when they respond violently to gentle hands and take their hurt out on others.
and I love it when they are loved and cared for anyways
care and tenderness as violating and coercive acts. being forced into vulnerability for your own good by someone who does not actually see you as a person but as a symbol or a figure too valuable to let die. you have power over so much but not your own body. you have lost the right to risk. everybody cheered
Give me characters with armour that leaves scars, rather than protecting them from harm.
I'm thinking helmets that leave bald patches from where the user is continually hitting their head in the same spot. Chest pieces that dent and break ribs. New armour that chafes and rubs skin raw around the neck/chest. Armour so heavy/stiff that the whumpee ends each fight exhausted. Dented armour that gets stuck on the whumpee, leaving them in further discomfort and danger of passing out from bloodloss...
i am terminally A Sucker for characters who have a towering and generally earned ego about their own ability and absolutely no self-worth about themselves as a person at all. intoxicating combo.
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Alabaster checked his watch again. He sighed in frustration. When would Claymore's seminar be over?
He hated this place: Manhattan. And the bench he was sitting had a pretty clear view of the damned Empire State Building, too. The sooner they were out of here the better it was.
A young child parked his bicycle and sat on the empty spot next to him. His curly black hair swayed with the blowing wind. Alabaster stiffened as the kid pulled out a paper bag out of his pocket. The boy's shirt was bright orange: the exact shade Camp Half-Blood used.
He curled his fist around the card he stored his sword. He doubted the immortal assholes would send a literal child after him when Perseus Jackson was available... but he wouldn't put it past them either.
"Oh, did you like my shirt?"
Alabaster jumped in his place before realising it was the kid. Embarrassment flooded him as he realised the shirt was a regular children shirt with a printed snake on it. Geez, how paranoid he had become?
"I love snakes!" The kid gave a toothy grin, showing off the gap between his teeth. He had a birthmark around his left eye shaped like dragon claws. Alabaster noted that eye was slightly milky unlike the other dark one.
He awkwardly cleared his throat. "That's, uhh, great kid." He checked his watch for the nth time. Shouldn't his father's seminar be over by now?
The kid pulled a handful of seeds and threw them at the pavement, inviting some passing pigeons. Soon, a horde of birds gathered around the kid, and by extension Alabaster.
"Are you waiting for your parents too?" The kid pointed the top of the Empire State Building. "My mom works there."
He side eyed the boy. "Didn't your parents taught you not to talk to strangers? You're like seven."
"Nine actually. You have little siblings and you can't guess it right?"
Alabaster choked. "What?"
"You look like you have siblings." The kid mused as he threw more seeds at the pigeons.
Alabaster sighed and leaned back. "Yeah, I had."
"Did they die? Nine years ago?"
Alabaster whipped his head. Who was this kid?
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry..." The boy mumbled. "Mom and dad get scared too."
'Gee, I wonder why?' would snark Alabaster, if this wasn't a, albeit creepy, child.
"Just..." He took a deep breath, "stranger danger, kid."
"I have a knife!" That would be a concerning statement; if this wasn't New York. "Besides you can't be worse than our mailman."
The child hunched onto himself. "He doesn't like my adoptive parents. I think." He brightened up. "His snakes are nice though!"
"Right..." Where were this kid's parents? Scratch that. Where was Claymore?
The kid started whistling a familiar tune while he continued feeding the birds. It was from a song he didn't know the name of, however, it had been blasted on the Princess Andromeda several times.
"Luke!" A man who was roughly the same age as him from the looks of it yelled from the far corner of the street. He held the leash of a dog as big as a hellhound and was waving with his other hand. Possibly, the boy's father.
The kid got up, pocketed the bird food and mounted his bike. "It was nice to talk to you, General Torrington."
Alabaster froze. He hadn't told his name. He hadn't told this kid anything, there was no way he could know. Unless...
'He chose to reincarnate, you won't find him in the Underworld.'
His mother's words echoed in his head.
"Luke..." He whispered.
"That's my name." The kid beamed and cycled towards his father.
Alabaster put his head in his hands, a sob wrenching itself out of his throat.
He really hated Manhattan.
****
Context: Luke reincarnated but Lethe malfunctioned so :) Something we talked about in the server before.
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
sometimes a fic can just be about the age old question 'how emotionally bad for everyone involved can a threesome be when they all did in fact agree to be there'
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