Feburary Log (Patreon)

Alright it’s the first monday which means a monthly log. Should be easy enough to make this a consistent thing.

Speaking of consistency, I genuinely surprised myself through January. Its wasn’t some new years resolution or anything. One of those days in the first week I just decided that I wasn’t satisfied with my questionable updates and told myself I’d be posting everyday aside from the weekends of course. Did I have a plan going into it? Not at all, but I learned very quickly that one helps.

It sounds like it goes against the idea of fun, but to all my fellow aspiring writers or anyone just looking to be consistent but struggles with motivation, plan out yours days or at the very least when you have fun and turn off your brain. Its so much easier to get work done when I know exactly what time I’m planning on hopping on the game and running games with the boys or throwing myself into some long rpg. Trust me, your less likely to find yourself meandering into scrolling on Instagram, mindlessly turning on some youtube video, or gaming away hours when you have a dedicated time slot for it. It helped me at least.

Anyways, enough about January, this is about the future. Taking into consideration what I’m most interested in as well all your opinions, I did end up torn between my new Elden Ring story and the MHA idea I had. Ultimately, I’m going to hold one last vote with previews for both stories to see what people think of the concepts actually in action. It should actually be up if you’re reading this.

Naturally which ever one wins is a secondary story so it won’t be updated as much as my RWBY one. That detail aside, I’m going to start rolling it out here on patreon first before webnovel. Initial posting aside, I like to drop in bulk at the start to give readers a more solid idea of what they’re getting into especially since my prologues can be short, I’ll try updating once a week. Then twice a week. Before either settling at that pace or trying for three.

I’m trying to be careful with this. When I first started posting on webnovel near the end of last year I just came out swinging with two stories, hopes, and no plans. As it turns out, I was not that guy.

But I can become that guy with effort and practice!

(Edit: Yeah, no. I prepared this post like two weeks ahead of time and have quickly realized I’m not built for two serious stories yet. The vote will still decide what takes priority after I’m down with my current story though so still feel free to let me know which one you prefer.

Reality is often disappointing. 

That said, writing a casual story that also takes place in RWBY alongside this one? Far easier and if I'm being honest will likely be focused on humor and straight up smut. The gooner inside wants to put that R-18 tag to work at every turn but the intense desire to tell an actual story snuffs that out every time. Might as well focus on that energy on something that shouldn't be taken seriously and can be used to practice writing both of those. I'm not really the funniest guy around and I've only written like two R-18 scenes since I started this whole writing thing so fair warning, it will probably be trash if it ever sees the light of day but that's kind of the point so don't take it too seriously because I won't be.)

Other than that I guess drop questions down below if you’ve got something to ask me? See you all back in the stories.

Oh and a big thank you to all of you! It can not be overstated how much having you all here boosts my confidence. Hope you get some entertainment out of these prologues even if they're not as edited as my usual stuff.

XOXO

Elden Ring: Maedyrn of The Frenzied Flame

XOXO

Three children. One with a head full of blond, almost golden, hair. The sleeping faces of the other two were framed by vibrant red, perfect reflections of his own flowing locks.

The birth of a single demigod was something to be celebrated the land over. For three to be born to them at once, an unprecedented phenomenon should’ve called for a festival that bled into several days to express thanks to the Greater Will.

Should’ve.

Radagon knew Marika well. Far better than the lord who came before him could’ve ever hoped to. She’d always been one to painstakingly plot out a plan before any action, personally attending to each and every detail involved when possible. That meticulous nature surged with godhood. Even he, forever entwined with Marika as he was, could not claim to fully comprehend the scope of the plans she had for the Order. But he knew one thing.

To Marika, the only good surprises were no surprises.

Marika’s hand dropped into the crib shared by the children, seizing the neck of the redheaded boy in the center. Radagon’s own shot forward and pried her grip away. “You can not harm these children.”

Her face twisted to him, distorted by fury that none, not even the best of the demigods, would wish to suffer. “They are accursed and thou knowest it as well as I.” She hissed. “Do not pretend you do not wish to do away with them. They will be a blight upon the Order.”

She spoke true.

Mortals, clergymen, knights, and aristocrats who diligently carried out the directives set by Marika and set themselves apart from others, earning them a chance to witness a demigod entering the world, laid across the birthing chamber, dead or dying. Some were afflicted by a vicious sickness, their skin peeling away and a putrid scent wafting off their bodies. Others were being burnt away by angry yellow flames that burned with such intensity that its flickering embers seemed to have a life of its own, spilling away to sprout more flames.

None of them were screaming.

Whether it be by ugly disease or violent flame, they all wore loopy smiles as they met their end, none of them daring to look away from the crib. It’s as if something was dulling their senses. Something lulling to believe all was as it should be.

"They are as likely to bring ruin as they are to serve. Steel thy heart, and let not wrath cloud thy judgment, for in anger lies folly." Radagon urged. He knew better than to use emotions to appeal to Marika. Especially when she was moments away from flying into a rare fit of rage; whether it be love or fear, no combination of emotions could outweigh her fury.

The white-hot stare fixed upon him, remained. He knew she would relent. The rage, the pure unbridled hate that bloomed within her heart during the birth of the Omen Twins far outstripped what she felt now.

The fury in her eyes did not dissipate so much as take a backseat to a cold clarity. “As you say.” She said, voice void of all but a dangerous edge. He released her wrist and she turned her back on them. “They are your responsibility, Radagon. Should they one day oppose me, the task shall fall on thee alone to dispose of them.” And with that, she left the chamber behind.

Radagon turned his attention back to the crib. The one Marika had grabbed, the red headed boy, now laid awake, gazing up at him with curious eyes of gold. He lowered a hand into the crib and pressed it against the boy’s forehead.

There was a faint heat beneath the boy’s skin.

He sincerely hoped that these three children, whatever their afflictions, would find their place within the Order. Should they ever turn their backs on the mother that may never love them…

The newborn reached up, managing to grasp one of Radagon’s fingers, and clenched it with a strength befitting that of a young demigod. Radagon’s lips curved upwards. Perhaps he could teach this one the ways of battle.

“The task shall fall on thee alone to dispose of them.” Marika’s words rung out within his mind, the smile dropping before it could fully form. He had no wish to harm any of the three but if that day ever did come…

Perhaps exhausted, the child’s eyes fell, his grip loosening, nothing but trust in those around him.

…it would be one of grief indeed.

XOXO

MY Hero Academia: The Bloody Mess

XOXO

A man, old and homeless, laid with the darkness of garbage filled alleyway, convulsing in a pool of his own blood. He’d been stabbed by another down on their luck, robbed of the few scraps he managed to keep in his name. Mere mementos of an old life that would earn the perpetrator little cash.

The man was dying.

One, young Katsuya Toga, no older than four years old, lowered the stolen blood bag he’d been drinking from as he stepped into the alley, stray rays of moonlight lightning up both he and the man. The man’s hazy gaze met his.

With help the man could survive.

But Katsuya thought nothing of the man’s fate.

“Feed me.” A voice, heard by none other than the boy himself, rose from the very depths of the youth’s essence.

He took a step forward, the growing pool of blood touching the tips of his shoes.

The only thing on his mind was the hunger. The insatiable void that plagued him from the moment of his birth.

Four identical pangs flared across his back.

Blood flowed out of newly made wounds, soaking through the back of his shirt and shaping itself. Curling forward, four snakes like heads, each made of a blackish red with veins spread across them formed. Crimson eyes that pulsed and rows of jagged razor sharp teeth.

Even in death door’s haze, the man twitched, the danger recognized, but no strength within his limbs to run or throw up a defense.

The four heads barred their teeth at one another. Then at Katsuya, the boy blankly staring back at them. Finally, after turning their attention forward, they surged forth all at once, teeth biting deep into flesh all while soaking the fresh spilled blood into themselves.

The world brightened.

His heart drummed in his ears, each beat more powerful than the last.

That hunger, limitless and constant, faded, clarity, true untainted clarity settling over his mind for the first time in his life.

All at once, the new sensations drained away, that insatiable black hole consuming it all and retaking its place at the forefront.

“Foolish boy.”  That dark voice, a lifelong companion, mummered as he forced the heads back where they came before they killed the man.

The blood of animals did not satisfy the hunger.

Blood bags did not satisfy the hunger.

A single person would not be able to satisfy it.

This hunger was something he’d been spending the rest of his life.

A realization that might’ve been frightening to others, but Katsuya had long figured out he did not fall into that category. Whether it was due to some natural factors entirely separate from his quirk, or it and the strange presence that made up some part of it, were the cause, he could not say.

But he’d always been smarter than those his age.

And he was already smart enough to realize that blindly satisfying the hunger within was one that would have declared a villain. And to be a villain meant prison or death.

Especially in a country protected by All Might.

What he needed was a guise. And who had a better excuse to kill than a pro hero doing what was necessary to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves?

He turned, leaving the dying man to his fate.

XOXO

Sniffs came from the other side of the room.

Kesuya turned over in his bed, the darkened room instantly brightening as he narrowed his eyes, looking to the one against the opposite wall. The snivels were coming from the balled up center of sheets.

Himiko was crying. Again.

Covers pushed aside, he crossed their shared room, stopping at the edge of her red. The sniffs quieted before a head of sandy blonde hair rose from the sheets, sharp eyes with near slitted yellow eyes, all identical to his own features, peeked. Except hers, more often than not these days, were red from tears.

Their mother had nicked her finger going through some old boxes and Himiko had been stupid enough to lick it in front of them.

No, not stupid. It slipped his mind at times, the hunger taking up so much attention, but he would’ve been just like her if it weren’t for whatever oddity caused his quickly advancing intelligence. Himiko was just acting her age.

Those vain fools they’d been born to were the problem.

“Here.” He said, wrist offered up to her.

She wiped at her face with her covers before shaking her head. “Mom said-“

“Mom’s stupid” He cut her off. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“…No.” She murmured, redden eyes dropping from his face to the wrist. He brought it closer to her and a flash of sensation so much weaker than the hunger that plagued him at every moment that it didn’t even register as painful, signaled her bite, her still sharpening canine teeth piercing skin with ease.

He could feel his blood, another thing that failed to satisfy the hunter, flowing out of him into her.

And beyond too.

Himiko did not just drink his blood, some of it suffusing through the entirety of her body. A small inconsequential boost in strength was the only effect he’d been able to point out from the act, unsure if it was his or her quirk responsible for it.

Whatever the case, blood satisfied her hunger.

Though he suspected hunger wasn’t entirely the right word for it. Getting a four year to properly articulate something likely entirely unique to her didn’t produce the greatest results but from what he’d seen, between the attempts to get at loose blood their parents happened to spill and her eagerness to partake, it was a kind of craving that was stronger towards family or just people she knew.

Due to their parents’ intervention, attempting to force Himiko to suppress anything related to her newly developed quirk in recent months, it’d become obvious that she could go without blood, no true hunger demanding its consumption as it did for him.

Their parents were vain shortsighted fools.

Teaching her self-control would’ve been one thing but forcing her to deny her quirk and what it demanded to such a degree was little different than denying a person food. The therapy and conditioning they were forcing her under would only have turned her into a ticking bomb waiting to blow. Maybe worse If her cravings were anywhere as strong as his.

Young as she was, however, cravings like that might as well be no different than the hunger.

And he would not allow his sister to endure that pain.

As the transfer of blood slowed, Himiko’s breaths slowed and even, he carefully pulled her away, the puncture marks faded by the time he had loose blood cleaned away from her face and tucked her back into her covers.

He cared little for them, but his parents’ vanity did help frame certain things.

There were many like them in the world, appearances prioritized above all else. Heteromorphs. Quirks labeled gross or revolting. Those that dared to go against the current. If it was not pleasing to the eye or caused issues, it was buried and only brought out for appearance’s sake.

But on the other hand, those born with looks, powerful quirks, or that fit the norms were respected, some elevated far beyond that. And those that were elevated had their flaws ignored, more leeway given to them than any other.

All Might a prime example.

The symbol of peace could do no wrong despite being human. One leagues stronger than any other but still human.

From here on out there would be no mistakes.

His plan called for perfection from every angle of life.

XOXO

There's a clear difference in size between the prologues but like I say, chapters do what they need to do. Either it interested you or it didn't, and in my opinion length can't really change that. I know I be dropping stories in the first 500 words sometimes. Anyways hope you enjoyed. Be careful with your votes since they really end up influencing my long term plans months or even the year to come. I like hearing all of your opinions too if you feel like commenting.