im pretty sure im violating one of my rules about nonart stuff so here's randomdoodles to accompany this

my sister requested pie when i was in spamish class and i only had one colored pencil so theres that

a wip version of the tiger lool

ok so the real reason im here is to react to my old version of justify, which i deleted off wattpad due to hazardous cringe
warning: this is pretty long and crimgey and i domt recommend you read all of it, just the comments if you really want)
[i actually rewrote most of the first few chapters and more over the past few months but im not posting anything until im certain i have a plot]

so im gonna mentally kms over this but ohhos jnsmb,hvhkv

thanks WoodSpyder for inspiring me to do this this needed to happen

this is just chap one and i hate myself for ever posting this and thinking it was good

my comments will be in bold, iguess

[in the perspective of Ruth] there were gonna be so many perspectives in this version that no one would ever understand what was happening

Though only fourteen, (i was 13 when i wrote this and i can safely say being 14 hasnt brought about much more maturity) Ruth had fiercely defended her claim that she could independently exercise for around an hour each day. Her parents disagreed, however they knew that she couldn't be watched forever, and they knew that she wouldn't let them go with her. (why is this necessary) Not that they could keep up with her impatient pace, anyways (cocky ruth is cocky) She could go under one condition; she had to wear jeans, a sweatshirt, and bring her phone. The habit of partaking in early morning runs was fairly new to her, and the eerie October forests didn't look any more appealing on Doby Public Trail than some pampered prestigious park. (this is what you would call a 13-year-old attempting to write like a 50-year-old realistic fiction novelist, and failing horribly)

Ruth actually enjoyed having cold fingers(no you dont you fool). The chilling October air caused cold sweat, which made her body temperature even lower. It didn't matter too much, anyways. The run would be over with before frostbite claimed her fingertips and froze her short, dirty-blonde hair. (this entire paragraph makes literally zero sense what the truck was i doing)

The winding trail was hers, most of the time, at least. (even more unnecessary trash) Most people didn't run the trail in the early mornings, let alone near-winter mornings. Every now and then a squirrel would scamper across the path for reasons she didn't bother knowing. Deer were more frequent, though. She had counted a herd of thirty-two white-tailed deer a few minutes into her run; all of them had been walking in a calm single file line. (this description is so specific that most accustomed readers would think it was an obvious foreshadow, when in reality it literally means nothing and exists simply to increase word count.)

The rhythmic pounding of her shoes against the dusty trail was all the music she needed to stay focused, and although shoulder cramps were inevitable due to the magical power of genes, Ruth shook them off (please do not write like this, future self. no one can read this without thinkimg of "shake it off" by tswizzle i almost guarantee it)

Forests like the ones that surrounded Doby Public Trail always felt empty to her. Ruth took her mind off the bothersome shoulder and observed the passing scenery. It seemed dead; any leaves that remained on the deciduous trees were brown or an unpleasant shade of yellow-- a dirty mustard color. The forest floor was dull under the cloudy morning light and definitely full of protruding twigs and thorny plants. She concluded that Doby Forest would be an ideal setting for a horror movie. (once again, completely irrelevant details that mislead readers)

Maybe I should just turn back early and jog around the neighborhood, she thought.

Ruth slowed to halt and looked around. Without the once ever-present sound of her footsteps, the woods were creepily silent. She finally let out a steamy breath, and the noise seemed amplified by the absence of any other sound.

And then, as the last wisps of steam dissipated into the air, an abrupt crack splintered the forest's atmosphere (slant rhyme. it hurts). Ruth had but a second to inhale before she realized the dramatic scene above her: an old, dying branch giving in to gravity. The time seemed to slow down to the advantage of no one, and the bough crashed onto her shoulder. The sudden pain knocked the breath out of her lungs, and her legs buckled under the impact. (i am actually lol'ing because the way i describe it forces me into visualizing a girl just chilling under a massive branch as it falls on her and makes her faceplant in a short .2 seconds of time.)

But her vision didn't go dark right then, no. It was only a split second later that her head collided into the not-so-soft ground and sent her brains slamming against the side of her skull that made her lose touch of consciousness. (dun dun dun. im sure everyone wants to know what happened to ruth-o. oh wait, nothing did. she just wakes up in the same spot, and this entire section creates unnecessary suspense and contributes nothing to the plot)

=- | - | - | - | - = (fancy separation line.)

"I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom, for me and you. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world..." (i want to bang my head into a wall). The mellow song played softly on an old tape in the background as Marcus prepared himself a beloved novel and cup of tea. He hummed along to the lyrics and tapped the worn cover of the book titled The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; he had read it too many times to count. (more oddly specific details what themqebfkhbqdcbkqeh c) (and no adult man would ever do this. ever. like seriously go thirteen year old me and trying to make a realistic adult character)

The hermit (i understand i was trying to go for diversity but this is) lead a quiet life in a quiet forest away from most cities, although he did visit stores in small, secluded towns if he was ever low on tea blends and necessary supplies. How he had not gone insane for living over ten years alone was a mystery even to himself, but he knew that music and literature had kept him somewhat connected to the rest of the world. Marcus vaguely kept track of the date, but he had an idea that he was around thirty years old. He considered himself young and healthy, since both of his parents had lived fairly peaceful lives well into their years. (he lives in the united states but acts like hes on a barely inhabited island off the shores of ethiopia)(hes supposed to be like late twenties and his parents lived long lives before dying? smh)

With his feet flat on the floor, a book in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he was set for the morning. The tea was steaming hot, but he raised the mug to his lips anyways and took a long drink.(no . no. there is no need for me to describe a man sitting like a good catholic schoolboy taking a long swig of some good ol mornin tea)

But the tea wasn't hot, or at least not hot enough. (neither are you and thats why you have never had contact with a female other than your mother, ever) Marcus shook his head and walked back to the fireplace, where he filled a kettle with more water and tossed an ignited match onto the coals. As he was about to return to his book, he heard an odd creaking sound. He looked back at the fireplace and stared, wondering if it had made such a noise when the flames started going.

What?.. The sound became clear again, and this time he was fixed on the fire. Nothing unusual was happening, and Marcus was suddenly very anxious. Maybe it's just the wind... (yes. just the wind.) He crossed the living room carpet to a smudged window and pulled back the long curtains. A cobweb fell into his palm, and he brushed it off quickly (unnecessary adverb is unnecessary)The woods outside appeared perfectly still. But at the same time they were too still. There should be at least a rustle of branches or a leaf blowing over; nothing was moving.(does he not have a job? how do you buy things? how kghhgkg?bclabslj)

A noise, much louder than the ones before, appeared at the front door. Marcus's head immediately snapped in the direction, and his weariness rose greatly.(i am forcing you to visualize a man snapping his head in the direction of a door)

It could just be a hunter who got lost... Or runaway criminals.. Or.. His thoughts were cut off when the door was blown open by a force that he initially thought was wind, but he subconsciously dismissed the thought because the door had been locked. (this is definitely not how 30yearoldman thinks. at all. realistically he would grab a loaded rifle off a shelf and shoot the bass - turd trying to break down the door)

A figure stood in the doorway, but it was silhouetted from the light flooding from behind it. Marcus's eyes quickly accustomed to the situation, and the hand that was still holding the curtain trembled. The figure was a cougar. (gasp)It no longer stood, but had now begun to slowly approach Marcus from the other side of his home. Its was low to the ground in a position Marcus could only recognize as stalking. (or, you know, if its not growling or snarling or bristling maybe you can assume its a talking cougar that is going to eventually ruin your unrealistic life)Knowing that he shouldn't turn his back on a big cat, (your daily animal facts here, yes sir)he slowly walked backwards towards the nearest "weapon": the tea kettle. His heart thudded so loud he was almost sure the animal could hear it. (he lives in the middle of the woods and doesnt have a rifle nearby. and there is a cougar invading this man's house because plot)

It better be hot by now, (but you never will be)Marcus hoped as his hand curled around the handle, which was surprisingly burning hot; he almost pulled back, but he clenched it tighter anyways. His expression was calm, and they were both staring at each other intensely. For a split second Marcus saw the animal's gaze flicker from him to where his hand was, and its eyes narrowed.(i dont know why i made this unrealistic man so incredibly dumb)(oh wait: doomed-to-fail plot. that's the reason).

"You better not pour that on me," (it knows there is burning water in the kettle? how? does it? know? these things? )it said. It said. It spoke.(yes. IT SAID. )

What the-(his thoughts are cut off? like that?that doesnt? question amrk?)

"Hm? Put it down." (it is talking to this man like it's his mother?)The cougar's mouth moved, and a seemingly male voice came from it (gender assumption.)Marcus was suddenly relieved. Thank God, I'm dreaming, (you fool)Marcus set the kettle onto the floor, no wonder my tea wasn't hot. (foolish)When he stood back up, he realized the size of the cougar, which was about three meters away from him. (much foolism)Its head alone looked over a foot wide, and its body appeared six or seven feet long.(that is actually normalish cougar size? lol? just multiply those dimensions by 2)

"You need to follow me," (the best and only way to start an adventure book. have a vague and fantastical charcter order you to follow it)it said and turned around, heading towards the door. It left dusty although giant paw prints on the lustrous ("lustrous") wood flooring, and Marcus could faintly hear the old boards creaking beneath its weight. He considered the situation. (yes. consider the situation)

Well, it must still be night, so the morning isn't being missed... Maybe I could learn something from this. (thirtyearoldman logic. definitely. i actually couldnt have fiund a better way to make him follow the cougar than this? it couldnt have just yelle?d? at him to? ?)More than just those thoughts came to mind, but he pushed the pessimistic ones aside. He followed the massive cougar as it approached the doorway. It turned around to look at him.(this man is a fool)

"No questions? You're just going to follow me, no problem? Are you sure you don't have any questions?" (this is the only character in this story who will ever sensibly question the stupidity of another character's actions) If the cougar had eyebrows, one of them would be raised. (how does he know this)Instead it wore a rather relaxed expression(ah yes, the wonderfully descriptive, "rather")When it spoke, Marcus noticed that he could only see its two enormously intimidating canines on its lower jaw instead of all of its teeth. Its whiskers appeared like thick white threads protruding from its muzzle, which wrinkled when it said "you're." (this man is observing the cat carefully, which shiul clearly indicate it is not a dream)

Marcus wasn't sure what the cougar wanted to hear, "Why not?" He said as a suggestion rather than a question. The cougar made a motion with its shoulders in a sort of shrug and blinked as it did so. It turned back around and silently stepped through the doorway. Marcus trailed a meter behind, and he wasn't surprised to see a grassland outside instead of the familiar forest. (improper writing and,, like, no ond wouldcsknclsknljbjq say why not likland.ksnilankan youre notjn  a dr eam you a ss ho le) (aNd cATS.  CANT.SHRUG.)

He looked past the doorway and saw the kettle, still laying on the floor. Its shiny surface gleamed against the strong outside light and gave Marcus an unsettling feeling. He turned towards the cougar again as he stepped into a quiet, dreamy setting. (it's ironic because he only thinks hes dreaming but hes not and somehow this makes something real appear dreamlike. brain.)

There were only a few clouds overhead in the pale blue sky. The grass was a mixture of pale green, brown, and beige colors and was fairly long; the tallest blades reached his knees. Other than that, nothing about the new terrain was detailed or interesting. (and, just like that, chapter one dissolves into a filler)

Several minutes of simple walking passed, and Marcus began to wonder where the dream was going. (and everyone is wondering where the heck this plot is going. it fell into the left lane a while back and got pancaked by a semi, if you were wondering)Actually, he was getting agitated. (congrats, you have become slightly realistic)He watched the cougar's muscular hind legs move back and forth and its thick tail sway side to side. (lookin at the butt uhuh)

"So, where are we even going?" Marcus finally asked. He ran his fingers through his rather unkempt dark hair and drew his hand back when he felt how much heat it had absorbed from the strong sunlight. The cougar looked back, and he immediately noticed for the first time its deep, intimidating amber eyes. ("rather unkempt hair" and "deep, intimidating amber eyes" is all i really have to say about this)

"We are going..." the cougar stopped and looked past Marcus's shoulder towards the horizon in thought, "to save the world!" (why i chose to finish off chapter one with a vague statement and exclamation point will forever be a mystery) (but actuallt what mthe he ckm)

(end)

that was something

im sorry for ever posting this

so

so sorry

at least i had fun criticizing it.