why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…
based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)
no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI
word count: 878
content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.
vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!
Story under cut :3
Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.
Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.
"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?
For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.
Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.
"...What page are you on...?"
Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.
"...uhm..."
You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...
"About...10? It's not a-"
"That's wonderful, Superstar!"
He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.
Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.
"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"
You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.
For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.
“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”
No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)
"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"
You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.
"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"
Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.
"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."
There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.
“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”
"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"
You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.
"That's possible."
Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.
"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"
Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.
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