I dislike the Chosen One troupe, except when I like that piece of media I will make an exception, maybe. It wasn't my cup of tea, and I suppose that is fine, just avoid such tropes in the future.
But fuck, you guys wanna know what I am doing??
Writing a book with the very troupe I despised in my current wip.
That's right, it's torture time babes. "But you should write what you like and love—" And I am doing that. I am about to write how the Chosen One thingy will not work most of the time. I am going to write how much it doesn't work just because I want to and no one can stop me.
Yes, the Chosen One has some good parts, but has anyone ever thought how hard it would be to have a sense of responsibility for defeating some kind of a monster or villain? That sense of pressure and expectation slowly mounting on your back as they put their trust on you, as they put their very life on you thinking that yes, you can defeat that shit. You can't make mistakes, you can't even fail, not when the lives of the people who raised you and the state of the world itself hang on the edge, not when these things were your responsibility now to save. You started to pressure yourself even more because of it, you cannot fail, you cannot let the monster win or the people who look up to you would be disappointed. At this point it wasn't just pressure of defeating the villain, it was fear of how people will perceive you if you fucking slip once.
And it is a terrifying little thing.
Anyways will continue writing now. My progress slowed down because of midterms, but my babies will finally meet the said chosen one in my current wip sooo yep.
a saint's thesis, a research paper fantasy novel where a dismissed royal teacher struggles to survive underneath a civil war between humans and angels in a lone winter planet of padaha.
ABSTRACT:
Ba never believed that they are safe from the wrath of the Angels. Especially now when they decided to escape against their clutches.
Being a Mentor to the Seraph Palace, Ba learned to be quiet against the ruling of the Angels. Through out centuries of their life, Ba barely remembers how long did the Angels conquered humnity and turned the planet into an impending apocalypse, witnessing the slow agonizing death of humanity. Even they barely survive in a dying winter landscape that is now the Empire of Padaha.
However, the rumors of a rebellion of the humans against the angels are steadily becoming louder and increasing upon the Monarch, and the Empire now seeks to silence such retribution. Ba, fearing for their life and the life of the only person they cared for, fled the palace against the rules of the Monarch, and tried to warn the Governor of the humans of the situation, they decided to offer a truce upon the Angels.
A sacrifice.
A child, set to please the angels. One of the few children these foolish humans believed would appease the Monarch. Despite Ba's questioning, the child was sent to the Seraph Palace, with Ba sent to accompany him back to the palace within a month's time before the Monarch will try to attack them.
Ba now found themselves in a dangerous position to go back once more to the Seraph's palace. Yet it was that, or the humanity's doom.
THEMES: Humanity shows through sacrifice, passing down knowledge, reasons to live again through chaos
TONE: A chaotic string of words trying to cram together the chaos that is the war happening around Ba. A humorish prose that seeks to insert the fun and thrill of being human while still drowning the reader in an existential crisis.
LANGUAGE: Tagalog
WORD GOAL: 90k
STATUS: DRAFTING
DEADLINE: OCT 17
NOTE: All gifs used here are not mine, credits to the original owners.
This is my current writing project, all written in my notebook. I am going to try to write a whole ass novel within a month without looking back, while posting in here for some random shi such as art and such. With almost all of my wips in the back burner due to academic stress from college, this is my only smidge of hope that I will be able to maintain a speck of creativity in me through out this semester.
