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skhardwarevers2 · 1 month

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[put grief here please thanks] <- that is actually what I put in this draft so I knew what it was for omfg…

Intro as written in the original document:

It’ll never live up to ARTCON, sure–but one can try and try I will.

If I ever figure out what this is about. It’s not a sequel to the incomprehensible slop that was ARTCON, I need a more coherent idea than that.

Okay, maybe it’s not a sequel to ARTCON but maybe heavily based on it and about N/A…thought stuff and what-not

The Unheard Point of View from Creature Feature: The Finale

[you know me, my writing is weird. If you’ve read and vaguely remember ARTCON it’s like that obviously.]

tags as written on my original post of this

[!!TW!!: BUGS, GORE, ORGANS, BODY HORROR, AND JUST REALLY CREEPY CRAWLY THINGS]

I remember(?) being awake for the first time. I couldn’t recall what had happened–I just knew that it hurt. It still did, does, and will(I would assume). It wasn’t the initial hit, the scissors were easy to handle. All they did was get caught in my chest for a while. What hurt more was them taking them out and leaving me there to bleed out. I tried to call out to him, but I didn’t. He’d know something was up, or maybe he didn’t care. I’m just a thorn in his side anyway, right? A painful reminder, a monstrous entity. I didn’t want to be but I was. It took everything in me not to retreat again, to that mental hell(literal hell). Agonizing pain and fear flooded my senses till I couldn’t figure out where I ended and the pool of blood that was staining the abyss began. It was dark, dark and cold. It felt too familiar. I was like a rat scratching at the walls, I didn’t know where I was–I just wanted out. I could hear my internal residents (bugs, wretched little things, just like me) complain about the poor condition. I couldn’t even do something as simple as provide shelter for these damned things, let alone my real job. Make my primary a better person and then die. A cold lonely terrible death. For a moment I swore I could hear something whisper in my ear–“we could fix that problem”. It was so enticing. To live. To be seen as something more than an animal’s corpse. Despite how my body began to rot in record time, chunks of my hair falling out and bits of my skin getting peeled away as I(?) writhed in pain. I wanted to speed up the process of dying but I didn’t want it to hurt. So I would tear and peel and scratch and pull myself apart and cry my terrible rotten tears as I could do nothing but hate myself. If I even count as a “my” or a “self”. I couldn’t even feel bad. Everything happening here was my own doing. Once again the voice came back into my head, this time I was certain it was real. “We can fix you,” they said. And I wanted it so desperately to be true. The abyss wrapped around me, like a cocoon. For a moment I was where I belonged. Safe. Warm. Protected. For a moment the pain stopped and I–for just this one moment–felt human. But no matter how well you treat an animal, one day you’re going to eat it. The abyss tore me open, completely gutting me. Showing me how disgustingly human I already was. Blood and guts spilled onto the floor. Nothing that surprising. I knew I had some sort of organs. It still hurt. It still was disgusting to look at. I couldn’t even scream. They had taken away my throat and my voice along with it. I wasn’t sure how I still managed to cry. And when I thought it was over, when I thought there was nothing else they could possibly tear out and mangle with their harsh hands and words(which had been muttering something about how wretched of a creature I was, something I had proved time and time again to be true)–they took my heart. Carefully ripping it from its spot in my chest, placing it in itself. It needed a new one, and promptly thanked me for my cooperation. In return they’d keep me here, in this state, my chest gaping open with veins and small organs that got stuck just sitting there like decorations. Inside of the abyss, who was now alive, thanks to me. At least I helped something. I was a part of something, some one. I understand the bugs

now. So reliant on something else for life that’s not as reliant on you. Because of a want to be part of something bigger. The Abyss, in some sort of attempt to keep me contained–reached into my brain to find the perfect place to put me. Slowly I was entrapped in those same bland walls that I hated. My mental hell turned literal hell. It’s what I deserved, likely. If I never showed up this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have pushed it trying to fix things beyond repair. If they were ever broken. Its hands (or at least two of them), stayed in my brain–needing that too to increase efficiency. For the first time in a while I didn't think. I just laid there on the cold, cold ground and wept for the sorry being that I’ve become (have always been). At some point there was no difference between the Abyss the Grief and me. Grief took over for both of us, as we tore apart the person who put me(us) in this situation. And after that we rested. Satisfied with having ripped them apart the same way they did me(us). At some point I stopped feeling any more of the pain from my primary. I didn’t think much of it, until I opened my eyes, like some terrible nightmare, to find myself right where I was before this happened. On the floor of the (dead) Abyss, bleeding out with a gaping hole in my chest. The bugs were back (empathetic this time). I always thought they never were there, but maybe the literal hell that formed before brought them back. They rejoined me, making my skin crawl in disgust for how inconsiderate we both were being, but at least I(?) wasn’t alone. I’d make it out of this place, even if it killed me. I tried to stand, but I could barely feel my legs. No matter. I’ll slowly inch my way closer and closer to my (former) primary day by day, week by week, month by month if I had to. Maybe then I’ll finally prove the point that I truly don’t want to die. Maybe then I’ll feel human. Maybe then I’ll truly be a reminder to him, not just a pest. Maybe.

#★Sikada’s Songs★#Date of origin: January 16th 2024 #Don’t ask about the break in the middle there’s character limits on blocks #Anyway there you go losers have your grief

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skhardwarevers2 · 2 months

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On Worm Soup and Axes

At the time of writing this, I have no cares for convention and this is more of an “informal as FUCK character study of sorts, I don’t know–screw you I do what I want” sort of thing

Also Compelled by Hindsight is playing, which I find a bit funny for the character I want to quote unquote study (I don��t know if you’re supposed to use quotes after saying quote unquote…I can’t find any clear answers so I’m keeping it like that. Also I’ve read the word quote so many times it has been semantically satiated, hooray!)

So, now that we’re past my incoherent babbling, who is it we’re talking about this time?

Some of you may be familiar with the phrase “Worm Soup”, and if not–good. We don’t address it at all. Wormy–aka at some point worm soup, aka forest girl, aka Moose–has been the center focus of a lot of my thoughts recently. Why, you ask? Because really I never got too into her. For a lot of reasons that I’d rather discuss on my chaotic main–all you need to know is I’ve rewritten her quite a bit.

Do I know her past quite solidly? Not at all. Why would you think that, stupid. You know I make those things up on the spot.

But I know her a bit better now–and her strange relationship with Moon and Crayon.

I think it goes without saying that she is a way better person than either of them combined–or at least in current times. Though that strange bit of foreshadowing isn’t her fault, they say that the people you surround yourself with are the people that make up who you are–so what happens when you’ve grown attached to irredeemable people that never should have made it this far anyway? (Okay…maybe I’m being a bit harsh but you know how I feel about Mr. Worm and Moon)

Wormy is a strange character. I don’t know the details (she’d have to tell me herself, once she remembers, whatever the hell happened to her to make her like this) but she grows attached to just about anyone. Doesn’t matter what they’ve done to her or others, she’ll find a way to excuse it. Childhood best friends turned into a strange, not very friendly dynamic, is what I’ll say to describe the person that got her stuck up in that forest in the first place. Young people do stupid things in fiction, and because I’m a shut in loser who doesn’t talk to people half of my ideas of what “young people” do is based on slasher movies and such–blame the screen not the writer. (I’m mostly joking, but I do base a lot of her story on some slasher aspects–mostly the whole reckless young people thing and paranormal and strange “friend” dynamics…like Regina George and Gretchen when Kady was tearing them apart)

But if any of that makes sense, hopefully you get the sense that there was some stupid gathering of people turned pretty deadly…because you know, it’s the forest…that ended with it taking Moose as the sacrifice and/or payment for their ignorance. And no it wasn’t her choice, but she didn’t want her “friends” to suffer so she stayed anyway. And loneliness can do a lot to a girl. Wandering the forest isn’t as fun as it seems. So meeting Crayon (and Moon) she was quick to ignore the many many red flags they had.

And we know Moose, she’s kind. She’s naive. She’s the embodiment of a ray of sunshine. She’s not the kind to be violent

I think we know where this is going

As time went on with her newfound friends their (may I say quite violent) habits and ways of thinking started to rub off on her. She was still wouldn’t do any of those things, she still tries to get them to think of something more peaceful–but when push comes to shove (or rather spear through the chest), her entire being shifts (which, if you still count the grave she dug and her mourning period as canon, is quite obvious). She’s reckless and willing to do anything to keep the people she loves safe. And she means quite literally anything.

And I don’t really have a spot in the story for this just yet, but I really want to give this girl an ax…for normal reasons of course. (and for future paragraphs be warned, I will eventually talk about brutal ax murder. I cannot predict when or the length of which I will talk about it or in how much detail. Take that as you will)

That was a lie, I am very not normal about her with an ax in whatever scenario I happen to cook up. I’m not sure when the hell she’d do this, and call me a shit writer who doesn’t know his own characters–like I care, I’ll write it anyway, but I like to think at some point she hits a breaking point.

(okay real quick, about the “call me a shit writer” thing, I very much will care and fear this every day don’t call me out on this unless you can sugarcoat it so much it could kill a horse…back to me ranting)

I was thinking about the phrase “even a worm will turn”, which is hilarious considering her placeholder name (Wormy), but really (and for lack of any other word I can think of, sue me) poetic to me.

Because yeah, a worm will turn. She will turn and do some horrific shit without even meaning it. Simply because of who she’s put herself around, and how much she wants to keep them safe.

Bloody ax murder shit, you know? (yeah so we made it to that part. I’ll revise this parenthesis with how much I get into it probably[…uh ... it's not too bad? It’s not finale or ARTCON level, but still a little graphic])

Like, I don’t know who the threat is just yet which is fucking up the late night thought I had about this but whatever. But someone or something poses a threat to people she cares about, that actually care about her (more on that earlier and later!). And I don’t know how she got the ax. She just picked it up, said “I don’t want to be defenseless” and after a bit of protest from her friends “I can fight for myself”, and carried it around wearily until this moment. She doesn’t know why she said that, she’s never hurt a fly for fucks sake–and she plans to defend herself with an ax? What was she thinking!

But then that moment comes, where she’s the only one left standing, ready to fight, ready to attack, and she just lets loose.

Like I’m talking serious overkill. Something ticked her off to the point that she’s covered in just as much blood as the person she’s attacking. Is she thinking? Probably not. She hasn’t felt pure rage like that just about ever and actually expressed it. And the “threat” is completely decimated, limbs detached, blood pooling out onto the floor and splattered on the walls. It’s completely gross, gorey, and in all honesty disgusting. It’s something more akin to what Crayon would find himself doing–but instead he’s staring in shock.

It takes her a second to realize, “Holy shit I just killed someone”, and there’s a few minutes of silence between everyone. Complete silence. Crayon and Moon think that they’re seeing things, Moose has literally been painted red by blood (if I didn’t make it obvious I think she would completely destroy this person to this point). When it does click she has a bit of a divide in her mentality. Her usual self is horrified, obviously. She couldn’t even listen to Crayon and Moon talk about death, and she just caused one. But there’s a small little part of her, saying “you did what you had to for them”

And that’s the thing with Moose. She can’t seem to do things just for herself. She’s always doing something for someone else. Often brushed off as her trying to be “helpful”, in my eyes she’s like a people pleaser with a premium subscription. She can’t shake the notion that what she did is slightly justified because she did it for her friends, she didn’t want them to get hurt. But she would never do that on her own. And so when I say that her friend’s violent ways rubbed off on her, I mean it more in a “she’s doing what she can to be like them, in hopes that it’ll make them like her more than they already do” way. Again that ties back to her past but we don’t need to get into that just yet.

When it comes to Crayon and Moon’s reactions–they’re a little proud that she was trying to do the right thing and she stood up for herself, but also knowing her and how she really is they’re incredibly horrified and guilty. They know that she got the notion to do that from them, and the fact that she took it to such an extreme weighed on Crayon pretty hard. Because he’s done some messed up things, this is canon, obvious, an overall given, you get it. But the fact that he’s been trying to better himself only to watch someone who was so much better than him, someone he admired and wanted to be a bit more like (crazy I know), do the same thing he would’ve done in that situation makes him sick to his stomach.

But enough about them. Because she does everything for them

She’s disgusted with herself, even after constant reassurement that they didn’t see her as a different person. It was just a mistake (although a pretty big one). She actually considers going back to the forest just to rot and die–maybe to let it tear her apart.

And oh boy back to my favorite thing–Guilt.

Crayon and Moon are a tad bit worried that she might get haunted by it, since physical manifestations of guilt are very real (for example N/A and the Bugs, respectively). So for a good while they’re keeping a close eye on her, but nothing seems to turn up. Or at least that’s what they think.

She did get her own manifestation of guilt, but it’s a bit strange. It’s not really physical–not yet anyway. Hallucinations and horrific visions and dreams about the person she tore apart reanimated, just there. It takes a lot of different forms, but they all look gross, trust me. There’s other aspects too, but that’s just the horror nerd in me acting up. Blood on the walls and eyes and all that, strange noises in the middle of the night.

And she doesn’t tell them, she doesn’t tell anyone. Not until it’s like real and a problem but I don’t want to get into that just yet. She keeps it to herself, moving on. And every time she thinks that she’s moved past it and she can live comfortably again it shows up to bother her.

And I think you know where I get those parallels from. N/A makes itself known from time to time, and everyone knows it’s Crayon’s guilt. It constantly nags at him right when he thinks he’s safe. However, I don’t think I ever explicitly stated that The Bugs were Moon(/Stargazer)’s guilt entity. They kept it a secret, knowing damn well what they were. They were able to play it off as a nuisance rather than a reminder–which is what Moose does…

She knows this about both of them, but doesn’t say anything. She’s stuck in the “for them, not for me” mentality. So she’ll let it eat away at her until it’s real and she can’t ignore or hide it anymore. Blah blah blah the comfort to your hurt–I didn’t start typing away a storm to talk about comfort. Just the hurt. Fuck you.

So…In lack of much else to say and no proper ideas for a conclusion take this jumble of words: Moose will turn, despite her own better judgment. Step on her all you want, she’ll bite back eventually. And she’ll regret it the second she does, whether you deserved it or not. Don’t give her an ax, never let me think again, I wrote this simply because of the bloody ax murder thing, sue me, go fuck yourself I know my characters make no sense, good day, and goodbye

#★Kricket’s Hell ★#As much as I hate that I wrote so damn much I also think everyone should read what I have to say about Wormy/Moose #That has no relevance I just wanted to say it

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skhardwarevers2 · 3 months

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On “Hating” your creations

Okay first off, first OC rant!

Secondly, I’ve been thinking a tad bit too much about my relationship with my own characters. Because, yeah. These guys are from my brain! It’s crazy to think about–but it’s true

However, It doesn’t stop me from despising them at times, sometimes for things out of their control.

The most obvious example (for those of you who were around in the height of my career) would be Mr. Crayon “everything’s fine” Worms. I hated him sometimes, he was–for lack of better words–a complete asshole. And I’m not saying I hate that I wrote a piece of shit character who really shouldn’t be redeemable at all–I loved flawed characters with all my heart (mind & soul)–but sometimes I wonder “why?”

Because, I didn’t have to write him that way. I act as if I didn’t write him (and maybe I didn’t. Maybe he has his own will that I just happen to record in my brain) and that it’s someone else’s fault that he’s so–again for lack of better words–fucked up.

But then it also happens with other characters. Believe it or not, I hated Jeanine for a short bit (Both Jeanine and the Parasite actually, I’ve only recently grown to sympathize for the Parasite). When her and Crayon had that little “swapping eyes” event happen–I hated that she so quickly switched up on him. I get why she did, but I also don’t. Most of the extreme comments were made by the Parasite, but the Parasite is a reflection of her inner self really–so she was feeling that anger. But she knows damn well that she’s not perfect either, part of me wanted her to at least hear him talk it out a little bit. I didn’t want her to still like him, but I didn’t want her to hate him. (then again I struggle with writing interactions, so who knows if it could’ve happened anyway)

And most recently I’ve grown to despise the CYBR versions of Crayon and Moon (which I am working on! I’m just burnt out and focusing on becoming an academic weapon for once…sorry)

I can’t get too much into why (spoilers–duh) but I will say that they didn’t start off nearly as bad as their Canon(AIWIH) counterparts. And yet self destruction takes place and they both ruin each other. Maybe it’s just meant to be that way. I can’t help but hate them though. (for the like…two of you who follow my tiktok you might have seen the “untouched picture” in an art dump with the caption “KRILL YOURSELVES!”–that might have been an expression of how much I hate them). They’re just terrible people, I would argue worse than the AIWIH versions of them–which is saying a lot because AIWIH Crayon killed his girlfriend…so…

But I still can’t help but feel strange hating things I wrote and created. I know why they’re like that, and you’d think I’d find a way to reason something out in my head so I maybe don’t want to mentally tear them apart every time I think of them.

However I think that does say something good about my morals, maybe

I’m not taking any of this too seriously, it’s just silly little fiction in my head that has no real effect on the world whatsoever, but it’s interesting to think about.

Whether it be characters I have real reasons for hating (Crayon, Moon, Procyon, Koeia…ugh I hate Koeia) or ones I just happen to dislike sometimes (Antares & Regulus…sorry. 313…kinda, random versions of the CDs at times, Felix and Debbie Star, the list goes on…) it happens a lot.

I guess I just have a habit of creating two separate mindsets–one that writes, and one that reads the writing from an outside perspective. In the moment, I love the writing and the story–and out of it I find myself picking apart my work like a theorist.

Who knows, maybe I’m just strange

I mostly wrote this post just because I hate CYBR Crayon, and don’t have any ideas for filler in the time that I’m spending trying not to get completely burnt out (again)

I love spreading Anti-CYBR Crayon propaganda <3 (/silly)

anyway…I hate my son and all of you should also hate him with me…send him detailed hate letters…/j

#★Kricket’s Hell ★

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