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sootical · 5 months

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Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration.

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t.

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent.

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired.

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I?

My phone rings again, this time I do answer.

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired.

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon.

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think.

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks.

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent.

#wilbur soot #fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur #angst #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur Soot x Reader angst #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #heavy angst #hurt/comfort #Minimal comfort #lovejoy

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Something

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Not marriage, not kids but something

Warnings: no use of y/n, a little bit of Dean’s insecurity and John’s crap parenting, no dialogue, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, implied smut, mentions of death of a parent

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Settling down wasn’t in the cards for hunters. There was too much risk, to both themselves and their families. Dean had accepted this a long time ago, pretty much as soon as John first laid a gun in his small hands and told him what lurked in the dark.

He had tried once before but it never worked out. So, he stuck to random hookups with women that would never see his face again. Every once in a while, Sam would attempt to get his older brother to at least entertain the idea of what could be, what should have been, but he was shut down every time.

Dean was fine with his bachelor lifestyle, actually, he was more than fine with it, but there were moments in the middle of the night when he would turn over in his sleep and reach for someone who wasn’t there. He would watch families interact in those shitty roadside diners, all smiles and laughter like it was a 5 star restaurant. He felt a lurching in his chest, a deep ache that not even his best whiskey could soothe.

But then, you came home.

You were another hunter’s kid from years ago. Similar story, one parent taken out, the other driven mad with the need for revenge. You were a regular fixture in Bobby’s house and thus, in the Winchesters’ lives. The last time Dean had seen you was a month before Sam ran away to Stanford. You were freshly 19 and being forced to leave.

Your mother was taking you to France, apparently the werewolf pack that had killed her partner fled there. She gave you no choice in the matter, just like every other hunting parent. Dean can vividly recall the way you clung to him as you sobbed and begged him not to forget about you. He had held you close, laying a kiss to your hair like it was the last time while he promised it wouldn’t be.

And in a way, he was right. He did see you again and he did get to wrap his arms around your now thicker waist in a hug that was almost 20 years overdue. Sure you were covered in blood and ghoul guts but if it wasn’t the best damn hug Dean ever had.

You were quickly stolen away from your stolen minivan that you had been living out of and forced into one of the empty rooms in the bunker (one that was conveniently close to number 11). There was the compulsory catch up and then scolding on your end for all the stupid things the boys had done, but once the smacking over the head and general berating was complete, everything was strangely normal.

It was nice to have an extra set of hands for research, someone else that Sam could bore with his weird true crime fetish, a person that was actually willing to help Castiel learn to be human, another like minded hunter that could binge watch Netflix and pig out with Dean on the couch.

Dean was happy to actually have a friend, a good one at that. But there was something deep inside him that dared to wonder.

You were beautiful, intelligent and a hell of a hunter. He had been dreaming of you for 15 years, his teenage hormones evolved into a bone deep lust that blinded him whenever he saw even a sliver of your skin. He longed to feel your generous curves under his palms, your lips pressed against his own. But more than that, he wanted to wake up next to you every day. Have you sit next to him in Baby, singing old rock songs as he drove. Dean wanted you, through and through.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, not after the things he’s done. But you disagreed.

It happened so quickly, Dean didn’t see it coming. Suddenly, it was you and not Sam that was patching him up. You were the one going on runs with him. It was you that would sit up with him, glass of whiskey in hand as the ancient record player crooned in the corner.

He only realised what was going on one night in September. The Bunker had been freezing, the weather unseasonably cold. Dean had retired to his room with a couple beers and his Scooby-Doo box set, determined to wait out the cold in comfort as his little brother tried his hand at fixing the boiler.

It was about 1 and a half seasons in when there came a knock on his door. He was going to ignore it, thinking it was Sam telling him that he also failed at repairing the heating but instead, your voice softly called out to him.

You shuffled in after a moment, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. You must’ve been wearing at least five layers of clothes (including one of his henleys) and a large blanket wrapped around your shoulders. His stomach lurched at the sight of your shy smile and chattering teeth. With no hesitation, he lifted the covers and you dove in, snuggling against his chest as he wrapped an arm around your back.

Your hand came to rest softly on his chest, right above his heart and Dean could only pray that you didn’t feel the frantic beat of his pulse. You did.

You said his name so softly he almost didn’t hear it. He looked down at you and his breath caught in his throat. Before he could react, your lips were on his. He froze for only a second, his brain not comprehending that this was actually happening and it wasn’t some dream.

But then your hands were in his hair and his own had traveled down to your thick thighs, pulling you up to straddle his lap. The cold, the fear, the insecurities were forgotten; washed away in your embrace and your lips.

He held you close as you took each other apart piece by piece, unwilling to let you go even for a single second now that he had you, as he did every night after. You saved him and kept him afloat. He lived for you, for your smile, for your touch.

It wasn’t exactly marriage and it wasn’t kids but it was something, and for a hunter like Dean, it was more than enough.

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estrellaskys · 8 months

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Things aren’t so Sunny

part one

wonwoo x femreader

warnings: none? please let me know if there is any

genre: pregnancy, angst, lovers to exes

note: this is all fiction!

note: another one from my drafts, it was really long so I split it into two parts, it’s not edited, will comeback later to post the second part, and edit.

Wonwoo remembers it vividly.

past

The tears falling from your eyes staining your cheeks, the worried tone in your voice as you told him “what are we going to do?”

Wonwoo’s gut churned in a horrid pace. He didn’t know. You were pregnant with his child and he didn’t know what he was going to do.

————

Three years, that’s how long your relationship with Wonwoo was. You met through mutual friends, and eventually got really close to each other, close enough for feelings to develop and a relationship to blossom.

Twenty one, that’s how old the both of you were when you became pregnant. Too young, almost done with college, only a week away from graduation.

Wonwoo’s heart was filled with guilt and dread. He felt like he messed up bad, he couldn’t believe you were pregnant. Wonwoo felt sad for you as he watched you cry into his chest.

Maybe you should’ve recognized the look of pity when he grabbed your face and said “I promise we’ll get through this together.” Maybe then you would have prepared for what came after.

————

Just like he promised, Wonwoo was there for you when you needed him, he went with you to all the doctors appointments, he walked to the store to get you what you craved, say the word and he was there.

Your friends helped too, Naya and Soonyoung would come with gifts for the baby. The cute yellow onesies and toys for the baby. Soonyoung nicknamed your baby “Sunny”, because they brought so much joy to him even though they haven’t been birthed yet.

Sunny stuck, everyone around you would call your baby Sunny.

Unfortunately, not everyone was brought joy at the thought of Sunny coming.

You were about to be four months, September was just around the corner, you had been looking for apartments that were bigger now with the baby growing each day.

It was on a Saturday, around 2 p.m when you got a call from Wonwoo, “Hey love, I’m going to be out of work at 5 instead of 3… I won’t be there on time.” You smiled at the sound of his voice and said “It’s okay Won. Naya is coming with me, Love you.”, “Bye” he said and clicked.

With that, you got ready to go see the apartment your friends found that thought would be perfect for the three of you.

Wonwoo however, was not at work, in fact he was looking for something as well.

A new job, for the past month Wonwoo has been applying for a job that would suit his degree, he had planned on going to graduate school the next school year but plans obviously got pushed back.

So, he was going to use his bio-tech degree to get a decent paying job that supports the three of you. Then he got an interview with this big company, that offered great money for someone who just graduated college, but this position would have him leave the country for three years to Europe.

It’s been a week since the offer, and on Friday, when he was thinking about Sunny. It hit him that in less than 7 months he’d welcome Sunny into the world.

Wonwoo could just not do it, he didn’t want to become a father. Not at twenty one years old, not before he finished grad school, he wasn’t ready.

So Wonwoo took the offer, and booked a flight for Sunday at 1:00 a.m to France.

It was 4.pm and you weren’t home, he gathered the things he wanted to keep, and took what he needed and packed it in two suitcases. In his travel bag he put his favorite book, you had bought him a new one, the hard cover this time, the paper one he had was falling apart and you felt bad at how he struggled to keep it together. When Wonwoo was done packing, he went to the kitchen table and left a letter. He knew you’d bring take out and head straight to the table, he wanted you to find it.

With that, Wonwoo left and never once looked back.

————

You got home and immediately set the food she brought home to share with Wonwoo on the kitchen table.

What’s that? You thought

A letter that read “To My Love”

Grabbing it and opening it, you read the letter

Dear My Love,

I didn’t know how to tell you and I didn’t want you to be in the dark about it, but I can’t do this. I love you, and I’ve come to love our baby, Sunny. I know I’m not ready to be a father. I’m sorry, I don’t think Sunny deserves someone that isn’t prepared for the real world, I can’t lie to the both of you. I can’t do that to you. I love you. - Wonwoo

The tears fell down your face, your heart broken, your stomach boiling with anger and hatred, the sadness your soul was to become.

You didn’t bother to call him, you just couldn’t bother, it took all the strength in you not to search for him, with the help of Soonyoung and Naya, Sunny was going to have a happy life, one where she wouldn’t need a dad, one where Wonwoo would need her.

As you sat on the couch, you searched in your bag for your phone, when you found it and grabbed it to call Naya, you accidentally grabbed the piece of paper you were going to show Wonwoo.

“Sunny, our baby girl”

part two here

#svt fic #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #svt au #svt fanfic #wonwoo au #wonwoo fic #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo angst #svt angst #seventeen angst

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rodolfoparras · 18 days

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So yesterday marks the very first time I’ve posted a fic on here

I had written fics before but this was my first ever 18+ fic

Before I started writing for the cod fandom I had stuck to reading cod fics on ao3 specifically price pieces and I rmr one day wanting to read a fic where price teaches reader how to smoke cigars but I just knew there wasn’t an x male reader piece around so I decided to write it myself

I spent a month researching how to write smut trying to get a proper feel of price’s character and translate those very same traits into my own fic

And when I was completely done with it I almost didn’t post it but I did and I believe in one day I got 200 notes which was insane. I didn’t know how active people were on tumblr I really just wanted to create a price piece and do what I love which is writing

The next piece took 3 weeks before I posted it mostly because I was picking and poking at it but then I told myself you know if I’m going to be running a writing blog I have to write more often

So I pushed myself to write more often and back then I had just started to become fixated with price so I had plenty of ideas at hand

Slowly but surely I started to post more and more pieces and my blog started to grow. From April to maybe June month I had gotten two requests and maybe one ask where it was an anon who was just interested in talking to me and I rmr feeling over the moon about it

And then June month I started to grow rapidly like I really was there like whats going on 🧍🏻 i rmr the writers i looked up to became mutuals with me and i genuinely couldnt believe this was happening.

june- september i felt myself become more confident in my writing and i started to write like every 2-3 days and that’s when so many of you guys joined my blog and i rmr just being surprised that so many of you wanted to talk to me and that i went from one anonie to having a little council of yall

then november - February came around and that period is usually the worst for my mental l health but writing and having you guys show so much love not only for my work but also and it genuinely helped me so much

now its been a year of writing fics and im just really appreciative

also its so cool to be able to see how much ive grown how i went from spending a month on writing a fic to being able to produce pieces im actually proud of in the span of 3 days it's also fun to see how much knowledge ive gained by just writing like ill find myself reading pieces and im able to see minimal adjustment i can make that while make the scene flow whiles before id be questioning my grammar in every sentence

so what i want to say with this yapping is thank you guys and if youre someone who wants to get into ff writing pls do so

at first you'll feel like a weed in a garden but as times goes on you’ll realize how much you and your work has made the garden bloom🫶🏻

#not writing #this is just me yapping

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tmntkiseki · 27 days

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Actually, going back to yesterday's topic of TMNT 2003 and it's lack of romantic subplots with the turtles themselves, I think this is the part where I mention that TMNT 2003 actually came into my life at just the perfect time?

So a little over a year ago, I ended my first serious relationship as an adult. I don't like talking about my ex too much even now, but we were together for over five years and after the break up, the next several months were spent stewing in a boiling pot of rage, sadness, and regret. I wanna say all my negative feelings towards my ex and our relationship peaked during May - July 2023 and didn't simmer down until around autumn, which coincidentally was about when I started watching TMNT 2003. (I'm also convinced that a lot of the stress from the breakup led to some of the minor-yet-concerning health problems I've been dealing with over the last several months, but I have no way of proving that.)

One of the big problems is that, at the time I broke up with my ex, I tended to watch/play a lot of romance-focused media. Under normal circumstances, I'd still be able to regularly engage with a lot of the shows and video games I normally do without being becoming a bitter ball of anguish. Unfortunately, within a couple of months of breaking up with ex, games I used to love like Rune Factory 4 Special or shows like Snow White with the Red Hair became absolutely unbearable play/watch because of all the negative feelings I had towards my ex. If a love interest wasn't reminding me of my ex with certain...behaviors, I was looking at a relationship onscreen and thinking to myself "Why couldn't we be like that?" It was a nightmare.

Fast forward (lmao) to... god, when did I start watching TMNT 2003? I wanna say I started watching it either late August or early September? The pipeline of how I ended up watching TMNT 2003 is a weird one, but there were a couple of things that stuck out to me when I first started watching it. For starters, even though it was a Western cartoon, there were certain quirks about it that reminded me of the anime I usually watch (namely the fight choreography and being so heavily plot-focused rather than episodic in its storytelling) and I found myself gravitating towards it because of that alone. And I just love the characters. The turtles themselves are incredibly well-rounded with their own strengths and flaws, and the supporting cast and antagonists make the world feel very alive and lived-in. (I personally can't get over how half the time the turtles aren't even attempting to get into trouble; they usually just end up walking into the plot of the week purely by accident.)

But besides that, as I mentioned in my other post, even though there are a couple of romantic subplots in the show, most notably the April/Casey one that spans pretty much the entire series, the turtles themselves never end up entering a serious relationship with anyone. The closest we ever get to romance with one of the turtles is Don's one-sided crush on April, which was never going to go anywhere on account of her being an adult and ending up with Casey, and I wanna say the crush is almost entirely dropped by midway through Season 3. Beyond that, the turtles are never shown becoming physically attracted to anyone and all their important relationships--Splinter, April, Casey, Klunk, Leatherhead, Honeycutt, Sydney, Angel, the Professor, the Justice Force, Traximus, the Daimyo, Usagi, Gen, Renet, the Ancient One, the Acolytes, Cody, Serling, and Starlee--are all strictly platonic. And you know what? That's okay by my book.

It is a fact that society regularly insists that the key to happiness is finding your One True Love and places more emphasis on romantic relationships than platonic ones. I personally don't want to die alone, but at this point in my life, I don't need a romantic relationship to be happy--in fact, I think being in a relationship would just complicate things when I'm still getting my shit together as is. When you look at Leo, Raph, Don, and Mikey within the context 2003, I cannot recall a single moment where one of them complains about how their status as a one-of-a-kind mutant turtle means they'll probably never land a partner and as far as I can tell, they seem perfectly happy as is. They have each other, they have Splinter, April and Casey are there too, Klunk, all their other friends--really, what would giving one of the boys a love interest do for them? The answer; not all that much, honestly. In fact, I feel like the risk of giving any of the 2003 turtles a love interest far outweighs the reward.

Now, mind you, I don't think it's impossible to give one of the 2003 turtles a serious love interest--in fact, I have a lot of thoughts about how it could be done right--and that it actually would be something worth exploring in a reboot/sequel series that'll likely never happen, but again, I don't think that TMNT 2003 suffers for the lack of turtle romances and is perfectly fine as is. 2003!Leo, Raph, Don, and Mikey are very lovable characters and are able to have fulfilling relationships without any of them being romantic in nature and I think that's a good message to send to people, whether you're a young kid or a grown adult. Romance is great, but so is a crushing bear hug from your three brothers, your rat dad, and the two humans you adopted.

#star's turtle talk #Happy Easter I spent my morning typing up this dumb ramble that I'll probably delete later #Ignore me

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hillbilly---man · 5 months

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A list of my works on AO3

(they're all Saiki K fics at the moment but I'll add fandom categories to this post if I ever get a new interest lol)

It doesn't fit my plans; it's something I don't understand

Published July 11, 2021

Summary: Saiki is fascinated by Satou Hiroshi, and the people around him start to see that this might be more than just a platonic curiosity.

What is this feeling called love?

[Notes: Bittersweet ending. Nobody gets together. My insistence on theming these early fics after songs is pretty embarrassing now. I'm not proud of my writing here but the story is ok. I might rewrite it someday. Not bad for my first fic since like 2003 though]

Something Changed

Published August 11, 2021

Summary: Aiura wrote a letter to her soulmate the night before they were supposed to meet.

She's predicted a lot of things... how could she have gotten this one wrong?

[Notes: Another sad ending. The format of this is almost entirely an excited letter about the future Aiura imagined that would never come to pass. Not really much of a story happening here tbh]

Won't it be strange when we're all fully grown?

Published August 28, 2021 (INCOMPLETE)

Summary: With graduation quickly approaching, the psychics of PK Academy (and Akechi) worry that they'll drift apart. Luckily, they come up with an idea.

"Let's all meet up in the year 2030!"

A lot can change in a decade.

[Notes: Kind of like a psychicker class reunion where they're all adults with jobs and everything catching up. Future chapters were going to have almost a Scooby Doo vibe (with a twist reveal at the end about Aiura's husband!) I abandoned it because I posted some art and someone called my art creepy and it made the whole fic feel bad to think about. Maybe I'll get back to it someday. It's cool to see how quickly my writing improved. I was also super proud of how well I wrote Akechi's dialogue here]

Hotel Valentine

Published September 24, 2021

Summary: Toritsuka Reita is a pretty lucky guy. He somehow managed to not get expelled from PK Academy, he graduated, and he's avoided creeping on any living girls for a few months. To celebrate, the PK Psychics paid for a one-night stay in the fanciest hotel in Tokyo so Reita can creep on the ghost girl of his dreams. Pretty lucky, right?

Too bad things aren't going his way. He's being ignored by the staff, he's bored out of his mind, and he can't find the ghost girl anywhere. Some vacation, huh?

[Notes: Spoiler: Toritsuka's a ghost stuck in a nice hotel. This is based on a concept album that most of you have never heard but hear me out! It really has nothing to do with the Cibo Matto album of the same title except that the chapters are named after the songs and there are fun Easter eggs for fans of the album. Another slightly sad ending but not too bad]

Coffee & TV

Published August 27th, 2022

Summary: The new silence in her house felt heavy on Kumi's shoulders. Everything reminded her of Kumagoro... especially her grandson Kusuo, who has been coming to visit more often than ever before.

[Notes: this is my least popular finished fic and I understand why. It's about grief and the loss of a grandparent. It's about the unique pain that a psychic would have after failing to prevent that death. There's a sad twist that TBH I think I was a little too subtle with. One of my favorites]

Friendly Fire

Published January 8, 2023

Summary: Being an adult is great until the Problems start. Good grief.

30-year-old Kusuo's psychic powers have been pretty well controlled for over a decade. Why are things starting to go haywire all of a sudden?

[Notes: Friendly Fire my fucking beloved!! In this fic, Saiki gets essentially psychic multiple sclerosis and has to deal with some complicated emotions. I don't think it's a masterpiece or anything but it was cathartic to write and I'm in love with the versions of these characters that I wrote here. So much so that I'm writing a sequel just so I can write more of them. Also, FINALLY a happy ending!!]

Ramen Ikouze?

Published April 28, 2023

Summary: After being dragged to get ramen with Nendou every week, Kusuo starts to realize that it's not so bad after all.

[Notes: I love Nendou, he's so good. This fic is very cute and about their friendship. A couple of fun twists]

Saiki has Plans?

Published May 2, 2023

Summary: Saiki mentions having plans after school, and the overactive imaginations at PK Academy work themselves into a fuss trying to imagine what he could be doing.

[Notes: This fic follows around a bunch of Saiki's classmates as they gossip and snoop to find out what he's up to. It's my most popular fic for some reason]

A Bright Flash

Published May 13, 2023

Summary: Saiki develops an annoying new ability, and through some comedy series logic is forced to tell Teruhashi about it. She tries to be a good ally to her "newly psychic" crush.

[Notes: Teruhashi accidentally finds out about Saiki's new power and he's like "fine. I'm a psychic. But it's just this one power and nothing else."]

Heat Wave

Published June 6, 2023

Summary: There's a historic heat wave in Hidariwakibara, and some of our favorite PK Academy students end up running into each other while taking refuge from the hot weather.

A series of four standalone (but connected) stories taking place at the same time:

Aiura has a vision of disaster, and she and Nendou try to stop it

Yumehara gives Toritsuka some advice to improve his game

Akechi meets Teruhashi's brother

Saiki really wants some shaved ice from the kakigori stand where Mera is working

[Notes: The summary explains it well but also I weaved so many connections between the chapters (that are all happening at roughly the same time). It was also a lot of fun writing interactions between characters that didn't get much in canon. Also you can tell it was hot as hell when I wrote it because I definitely gave Saiki some kind of psychic heat intolerance lol]

Immunity

Published July 6, 2023

Summary: She didn't know why, but Kokomi was finally able to see the truth.

Why Saiki seemed to appear and disappear without explanation. Why it seemed like he always knew what she was planning. Why he wore those weird hairpins.

It was all so obvious now.

Saiki had psychic powers.

[Notes: The veil is lifted suddenly and all the truths that Saiki kept locked behind his mind control were revealed to Teruhashi. He and Aiura have a chat with her about it. Also this was the first fic of mine that an IRL friend read (to my knowledge) and his comment was something like "I don't know anything about your boy but he sounds autistic and gnc" and I took that as a fucking compliment! You know you've written Saiki right when people can see that shit from space]

The Disastrous Financial Situation of Saiki K

Published August 9, 2023 (IN PROGRESS)

Summary: Adjusting to his new limitations has been annoying, and now Kusuo (age 31) needs a car to get around.

Unfortunately, taking time off work has drained his savings.

How is he going to get the money for a car now?

[Notes: This is my sequel to Friendly Fire but it's a lot lighter in nature. 100-Yen-Man goes around doing stuff for Saiki's friends. There are mentions of his disability from Friendly Fire and it's plot relevant but I think you can catch on even if you didn't read the original. I haven't updated in a while but I am actively working on it!! A Yumehara and Makino chapter next and then a Toritsuka chapter after that. TBH this isn't my best work and it's pretty unpopular but I'm having fun and that's all that counts)

#i got my work done so as i promised.. this is my reward #this is for organization purposes and to get me thinking about the things I've written again #my fics #saiki

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citrusses · 5 months

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November 2023: AO3 Wrapped 🎁

A monthly roundup of *some* of my favorite fics of the year.

AITA for being "obsessed" with my childhood nemesis? by @rainstormradish (M, 4K)

I [24M] attended a small boarding school in the UK. There was a boy in my year, a couple of months younger than me, and he became my nemesis after we developed an intense rivalry. My friend [25F] told me recently that our dynamic was "weird back then" and that "it’s even weirder" that I still think about him today. She argued that I talk about him all the time, but I believe the amount I talk about him is reasonable. AITA?

What can I say that hasn’t been said? This is so brilliant and perfect. Another fic this year that does something so clever with its medium and still manages to not distract from its brilliant storytelling and character-driven heart.

Half Sick of Shadows by @starquestingfordrarry (E, 39K)

Harry and Draco have been sleeping together for months, and it's fine. It's enough for Harry. But when things finally start to feel like the more Harry's been hoping for, a strange tapestry project has him worrying he won't ever get the chance.

I have so many wonderful things to say about this, I was truly moved by the story and the writing absolutely destroyed me. This one already has such a special place in my heart. It’s also worth noting that my original caption was: “Draco is so hot 🥵”.

In the lining of your skin by @maesterchill (E, 9K)

Draco has wanted Harry Potter for as long as he can remember. After he’s attacked and turned by a werewolf he’s placed in a halfway house while he undergoes rehabilitation and training. The fact that the house in question belongs to the object of his desire has all of Draco’s wants rushing to the surface. And it’s almost full moon, so his self-control is stretched paper thin.

*My* self-control was stretched paper thin by this, good god.

I've Got a Beautiful Feeling (Everything's Going My Way) by toomuchplor (E, 3500)

“I’ve got such a boner,” Harry says, voice scratchy, just slitting his eyes open now, turning his head on his pillow to face Draco. “Oh, lovely, good morning to you, too,” Draco says.

Sweet lovely perfection.

the earth from a distance by @andthepeople (E, 15K)

“Well,” Harry said gamely, once they’d managed to find the Leaky Cauldron – still under construction but mercifully open for business – and he’d turned up a few knuts from his pockets, enough to get them a room for the night, “it could be worse.” “Really,” Malfoy drawled. “We’re stuck in the 16th century, with no idea how we got here or how we might go about getting back – pray tell, Potter, how could this situation possibly be worse?”

Instant classic, incredibly fun to read.

The Pile by @b-vul (Not rated)

Why is Harry collecting sticks? Harry doesn’t know.

I lost my MIND over this. Brilliant original absurd in the best way.

What a Fucking Git by @lqtraintracks (E, 2K)

For all anybody else knows, Quidditch stars Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy still hate each other....

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. I mean. Scorching dialogue, incredible sex, what a fic.

#citrus recs #2023 recs #drarry fic recs #ok time to read some December fics #be back soon

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mirkwoodshewolf · 7 months

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Hellfire's Mama fox Chap. 7; Halloween campaign

*Author's note*

This was a long time trying to figure out. I had a few ideas of Roxxi's campaign in mind so it was hard to pick just one but I finally stuck with one. Now I apologize to any D&D players out there if I've written this campaign poorly. I've only played like 2min of a D&D campaign in college during a camping trip and never got to do another campaign again. So I just did the campaign based off how we've seen various campaigns that were shown in the show. I hope the next chapter doesn't take as long as this one did but work's gotten me busy lately but I had hoped to at least get this one done before Halloween came around. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter in the end :)

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@assassinsasha23

@sweetpeapod

_______________________________________________________

September came and went and finally it was my favorite month of all, October. The Halloween decorations, the jack-o-lanterns were being put out on every house, and the cooler weather started to seep in. Not to mention the leaves falling from the trees to create piles large enough to jump in them.

Halloween has always been my favorite time of year, so much so that every weekend before Halloween I always love to dress up in different costumes of my favorite monsters/characters on TV. And when Eddie and I created Hellfire and I started my Halloween campaigns, I made it a rule for all members to dress up in different costumes throughout the time of my campaign, then when it was Halloween night, we dress as our characters to finally end the campaign and go off with a bang.

Now as I have said, I had been working on this campaign for months while I was away in Indianapolis and only until just around after Eddie’s and I’s anniversary did I finally decree that it was complete. The title of my campaign; Don’t Blink.

In this campaign, our heroes were hanging out at the Green Dragon pub after their last venture. But as they sat around drinking ale and eating their food, Jeff’s character soon found a familiar sight. It was Beren. He had told the company that there was trouble brewing in Luthien’s homeland, an old enemy had returned and was planning to harness and feast on the magic of the Elves.

He didn’t know much about the details only that his wife had gone to help the cause but he hadn’t heard anything from her in over seven months. Fearing the worst, Beren decided to go to Luthien’s homeland and see for himself what was going on and what happened to his wife.

Knowing how important Luthien was to Jeff’s, Gareth’s and Grant’s characters, they were willing to join the cause. And being the newbies and wanting to help out a legend that was Beren, Dustin and Mike also joined in along the quest (unfortunately around this time, Lucas had been missing several campaigns and was now on a temporary suspension until Eddie and I decided what to do).

For weeks now I had the guys going on a dangerous quest through Luthien’s forest. To which Beren had told them that it was never this dangerous before in the past. A dark power had infested the forest making it sinister and almost come alive. Soon they came to Luthien’s palace.

“And there you all stand before the grand palace of the Elven king Thingol and Nymeria. But instead of a palace that once shone like the stars, the palace was desolate and hung open like a rotting wound. Vines and tree branches encompassed the palace walls like a blanket.”

“Varda’s stars. The entire kingdom it’s—it’s destroyed.” Eddie replied.

“What in the hell happened here?” replied Jeff.

“Just what could’ve done this? Not trolls or ogres.” Said Dustin. “Or can they?”

“No, this is not ogres nor trolls. The magic of this forest is built to keep them out. Whatever attacked this place, must’ve been already been here.” Said Eddie.

“But why? Why would the elves keep something like this hidden within their own realm?” Mike asked.

“That’s what we’re here to find out. And I’m not leaving here without my wife.”

“And that my friends is where we shall end it tonight.” I said just before the boys all groaned.

“C’mon Roxxi! This is the 3rd cliffhanger this month can we please continue on just a bit longer?” asked Dustin trying to do the puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry Henderson, but I promise you. Next Saturday is Halloween and we shall wrap up this campaign on that night.” I said starting to pack up the stuff. The guys all soon began packing up their things and hitching their rides.

“Normally I never try to question your pace, but this is surprising even for you. You sure you don’t want to add a bit more tonight? At least to allow Beren to use his expert tracking skills to determined what happened to Luthien’s palace?” Eddie asked me as he wrapped an arm around me.

“Nope. I promise babe, next week will be worth it. You’re gonna love it.” I pecked his cheek and after packing everything up, Eddie drove us back home.

After showering and changing out of my Morticia Addam’s costume, I was on the phone with someone and writing some things down.

“Yeah. Yes exactly. It’s an open field just off Route 24. Big field can’t miss it. And everyone’s still on board to come? Awesome. And thanks again for doing this, and it was really good talking to you again Courtney. You too, bye.” I hung up the phone as Eddie said coming in with his toothbrush in his mouth.

“Who was that?”

“A friend from Indianapolis. She’s thinking about coming over next week, so I was just clarifying some information for her.” He hummed before going over to the kitchen sink to spit out the toothpaste from his mouth. “Do you have to spit in the kitchen sink?”

“What’s the difference? It’s all a sink that’s gonna take it to the ocean or wherever water goes.” He said wiping his mouth with a paper towel. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Yes but when there are still dishes in the sink, I think Wayne and I both agree that toothpaste don’t need to be mixed in.”

“A guy forgets to do the dishes and he’s labeled for life. You know we had that English test to study for. Plus all that reading, I swear who has time to read 250 pages a night.”

“But what about—”

“Tolkien is different. Dickens just rambles on and on and on and on never getting to the point. Jesus we get it dude, the streets of London are filthy, no need to drone on 20 pages about it.” I shrugged, not denying that logic.

“Still babe, it was your week to do the dishes and you still haven’t done it yet.”

“I’ll do it first thing in the morning, I’ll even vacuum and dust the place as compensation.” I thought it over.

“Okay, and as a reward I’ll make you my chocolate chip pancakes.”

“With whipped cream on top?”

“What am I a barbarian?”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Only every second of every day.” He pulled me in close and began kissing all over my face making me giggle and squirm in his hold.

“And. Don’t. you. Forget. It. Cara mia.” He said between his kisses.

“Oh mon amor.” Eddie then hoisted me up, holding me up by my thighs and whisked me off to the bedroom for some special nighttime fun as only Gomez and Morticia Addams were known for.

*Halloween night 1985*

Halloween night. When kids dressed up in costumes and went around trick-or-treating. But while that was happening, I was out at Pelennor fields with some friends of mine from rehab getting things set up while Eddie and the guys got ready.

“Yo Roxxi, where do you want me to put the fog machine?” asked Derek.

“Just set it within the hay Aaron brought.”

“Roxxi, did you still want the screen projector for the shadow-puppets?” asked Amy.

“Uhhhh, keep it on standby. Lately our new kits have been keeping me on my toes with their successful rolls.”

“Hey Roxxi, Courtney wants you to take a look at the costumes and makeup for your villains.” Ashley said as she came up with grey and black makeup all over her hands and face.

“Alright be right there.” I looked around to check our setting to see the table was all set, jack-o-lanterns were all carved and ready to be lit later tonight, a prop column was placed but the crystal ball was missing. “Hey has anyone seen the crystal ball we need for Luthien’s scene?”

“I saw Garret with it earlier, I’ll get him to place it back.” Amy said.

“Thanks Amy.” I raced over to the U-Haul truck and saw all my actors getting their makeup ready. They were dressed up as stone-like angels but what was frightening about them was that they had on leather masks that showed their sharp teeth and empty stone-statue mouths. “Looking frightening ladies, ohh man I’ll bet a few of these guys are gonna piss their pants once they see you all.”

“Thanks Roxxi.” They chorused as they were finishing their makeup.

“Took me over 2 months to get the masks all done correctly, the silicon was a bitch to do but I finally got it down.” Courtney said.

“I really appreciate it Courtney.” I told her.

“Hey anything for you kid.” She said ruffling my hair to which I shoved her hand away and redid my hair.

“You know it took me 20 minutes to get this Elvish hairstyle just right.” I looked down at my watch and saw it was nearly time for Eddie to start bringing the guys over. “Okay guys, last looks! We’ve got just under an hour left before Eddie and the guys get here!” I called out to everyone.

Everyone was running around getting things prepped, making sure some of the machines worked properly, costumes and makeup was on everyone, it was a race against the sun until Courtney proclaimed.

“That’s it time’s up!” everyone all cheered and clapped.

“Okay, angels go get into positions. Techies and everyone else, thank you all for your help. Go and get yourselves something to eat and be sure to be back just as nightfall sets.” I told everyone as I got on my elven crown Eddie had made for me years ago. Everyone broke up and I turned to Courtney and asked her. “Got the camera ready?”

“All set. That boyfriend of yours won’t forget this for a long, long time.” I smiled and we high-fived each other. “Well better get into position and start filming.” She then took off for the woods while I sat on the table awaiting the boys to arrive.

*Eddie’s POV*

Roxxi had suggested that this years Halloween campaign should conclude out in our haven of Pelennor fields. Now I’ll admit I was hesitant to bring the guys up there because it was our special spot and the guys didn’t need to know about it. But with some persuasion and the fact that I could have the guys blindfolded so that they wouldn’t know how to get there, that satisfied me enough to drive them all up there.

But first Roxxi told us that we needed to take a specific forest trail which we called ‘Fangorn trail’. All of us were in full costumes but as we walked along the trail, I began to notice something odd. So far I had counted three strange angel statues. Did someone abandon them out here or what? They couldn’t be mannequins but even for as real as they seemed to appear, there’s no way in hell a person could just freeze like that for hours, right?

We soon came to a clearing in the forest and there Roxxi (dressed as my beautiful Luthien) stood with our table, some jack-o-lanterns all lit up and a column with a crystal ball on top standing just a few feet away from the table.

“Welcome Fellowship of Luthien.” She greeted us. “Tonight comes the end of our journey to save the Woodland realm of Arna. Please take your seats.” We all sat down, opened up our folders and took our figurines out. “Where we last left off on our journey…..You all had arrived to the castle of Luthien’s parents, and you all have decided to venture inside of it, but as you walk, you are stopped by a forcefield of powerful magic. What is your next move?”

“I’m the Mage so I’ll use a counter-spell to break through the barrier shield.” Gareth said.

“Roll for the initiative.” Said Roxxi. Gareth took the dice and shook them between his hands before rolling them across the table. “Yes 17!”

“The spell is a success. Proceed Gareth the Great.”

“By the Power of Mordenkainen, I command this shield to be gone! Necronom Hezberek Mortix!”

“A powerful beam of red strikes at the white barrier shield. The shield tries to hold strong but slowly it begins to crack until finally the barrier breaks and the shields come down, allowing you all to enter the castle within. You cross the stone bridge and stand before the large stone doors.”

“Luthien taught me the password to enter within, better leave this to me gentlemen.” I soon spoke up.

“Beren approaches the door, places his hand along the hidden Elvish runes that were engraved in the stone and speaks the password.”

“Annon Edhellen edro hi ammen!”

“The runes glow a bright starlight shine and slowly begin to open. All you can see is darkness inside and dead silence. Do you dare continue onward? Or do you flee and turn back?”

“We’ve come too far to turn back now. I say we go in.” said Dustin.

“For Luthien.” Jeff replied.

“For Luthien.” Agreed Gareth.

“For Luthien.” Mike also said.

“We go forward!” I proclaimed. The corner of her mouth perked upward as she told us.

“You enter inside.”

“I’ll give us some light.” Gareth said as he held up his propped staff.

“A light from Gareth the Great’s staff and shines through the darkened throne room. You can see that there were clear signs of a battle that had occurred. Grand stain-glass windows had been broken in from the outside, the thrones had deep claw-marks that almost appeared animalistic. And the banners had all been torn up.”

“It had to be those werecats we encountered in the forest.” Suggested Mike.

“No, no what purpose do the werecats have for wanting the power of the Elves?” asked Gareth.

“What about those orcs? I mean didn’t Beren once say the Elves drove them away from the mountains when they came here? Could be a revenge story?” asked Dustin.

“If it were orcs, then were are all the bodies and the blood? For as bad of a struggle this looks, there’s not a single trace of blood anywhere.” Said Jeff.

“As everyone is discussing the probably enemies, Beren notices something about the claw-marks on the throne. He walks up to it and looks down at his own fingers before placing them over the claw-marks, to see that they were a perfect match.” Roxxi said. As I took in what my Dungeon Mistress was saying, I then began to realize just what kind of twist she was making.

“By the gods, these aren’t claw-marks of a beast. They’re….. fingernails.” the party all looks at each other in shock. “These were made by fingernails of a person.”

“How is that possible?” asked Gareth.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. We need to head to the library. They keep records of everything from their first colonization in these very woods to every lineage of kings and Queens that ruled here.”

“And so following Beren, you all traveled further into the palace towards the library. But you stop, there hidden within the corner of the hallway was what happened to be a body of an Elven guard. What do you all do?”

“I say we just leave it.” Said Grant.

“I concur.” Agreed Gareth.

“Really guys? This is the only person we’ve come across and you want to abandon them? What if they need help?” asked Dustin.

“Well if you wanna get tricked and eaten again just like with what happened with that man-eating flower monster. Don’t come crying to me!” Gareth whined.

“What say you gentlemen?” Roxxi asked us. I turned to everyone and held up the dice.

“Lowest number goes to investigate the body.” I took the first roll and landed on 13. Next up was Henderson who rolled 15. Gareth rolled 12, Jeff 10, Grant 14 and Wheeler unfortunately rolled a 7.

“Looks like I have no choice.” Mike said exasperatedly.

“Tayr the Paladin slowly goes up to the body. It’s still corpse np moving as he got closer and closer. As he got right up to it, he withdrew his sword and was shocked at what he saw. The body was of Luthien’s mother who looked petrified. Her eyes widened but her body pale and cold to the touch.”

“No, oh Arella.” I spoke solemnly.

“Basilisk. There’s no doubt about it, it has to be a Basilisk.” Dustin said.

“Don’t get a big head Nog, if it were a Basilisk there’d be footprints everywhere. Plus how do you explain those fingernail marks that Beren saw on the throne. They can’t shapeshift.” Gareth stated.

“Doubleganger, or a skin changer, changeling, I don’t know!”

“We have to figure out what the hell is happening here.” Answered Grant.

“He’s right.” I replied. “We’re not gonna get answers by waiting around here. I only hope Luthien isn’t like her mother.” I looked to Roxxi and she looked at me empathetically.

“After Beren covers up the Elven queen’s body with his cloak, you all proceed onward to the library. It stood adjacent to the gardens just behind it but to Beren something was off, there was an odd statue that he hadn’t remember seeing before in the garden. A statue of an angel covering its face.”

“That’s odd.” I said.

“What is it?” asked Jeff.

“That statue.”

“What about it? It’s just a statue.”

“That’s the thing, I’ve never seen it before nor has Luthien.”

“Perhaps they just carved it or something. After all how long has it been since you guys came back to her homeland?” we then heard a rustle and when we all looked up, some of us were startled while others jumped in their seats as we saw the very same angel Roxxi had just described being in the campaign.

“Jesus Christ!” Dustin gasped placing his hand over his heart.

“Don’t break the role Henderson, just—just ignore it.” I assured him taking his head and pointing it downward at the table but I couldn’t help but take one last quick look at the statue.

How the hell did we miss that standing there? Or had it always been there and we just missed it?

“You also take notice of a crystal ball standing at the center of the main table of the library. Do you go forth and investigate it? Or do you move on and do some independent research?”

“I recognize the crystal to be her father’s all-seeing orb. Maybe it can show us what happened.” I spoke up.

“That type of magic is highly advanced Beren, only the strong-willed and mind can withstand it’s power.” Gareth told me.

“Excuse me? Are you calling me weak-minded Gareth the Great?” I challenged as I raised my brow at him.

“No, no, what I meant was that—this is too emotional for you. The power of the orb could take advantage of your weakness and corrupt your mind. Destroying you in the process.”

“He might be onto something Beren. This is your wife’s home after all, you’re too heavily involved in this. Allow Gareth to use it.” Said Jeff. I groaned and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Fine. But just hurry and find out what happened.”

“Gareth the Great goes towards Luthien’s father’s all-seeing orb.” Roxxi then gestures to the actual crystal ball that is standing near us. He stands up and goes over to it whilst Roxxi follows him. He stands on one side and she on the other.

Soon the crystal ball and the column began to light up on their own which had us stunned. As Roxxi says.

“As Gareth touches the orb,” Gareth places his hands on it. “An image starts to appear. It is the shape of a woman in Elven armor, her long black hair floating through the wind within the orb and soon the image becomes clear. It’s Luthien.”

“Luthien!?” I proclaim going over to stand next to Gareth. “Luthien meleth nin where are you? Are you alright? What the hell happened here? Why was your mother petrified? Why haven’t you come home?!”

“‘All will be answered soon my love. But you should not have come. Any of you.’ says Luthien grimly.”

“Why?” Gareth asked. “What happened here?”

“‘Look to your left.’ Luthien says. You all follow her direction and see Gareth shines his staff down the aisle of books and there laying against the bookshelf petrified was Luthien. Her body the same condition as her mother’s.”

“No……” I trailed off. I turned to Roxxi who looked at me sadly. I shook my head thinking this couldn’t be the end of Luthien.

“Wait so….you put your soul into your father’s orb?” asked Gareth.

“Not exactly. In fact this isn’t even my spirit. It’s a message I made before I was attacked.”

“But you’re replying to them. How can you know what they’re going to say before they say it?” Mike asked.

“My sister’s an oracle, I got everything I needed from her Tayr the Paladin.” Wheeler’s eyes bulged in shock for a brief moment.

“Luthien, what happened? Where is everyone else?” I asked.

“As I said my love, you shouldn’t have come here. They’ve destroyed the palace and feasted on everyone’s life energy trying to find what they’re after.”

“Who?” I demanded.

“I’m sorry can we just back up real quick to how we’re actually communicating with a message that was pre-recorded and stored into an orb?” God Henderson I swear I could strangle you at times.

“What matters now Dwarf is that I can communicate with you all!” Roxxi snapped as Luthien. “We’ve got bigger problems now. They’re still there! The angels are still at the palace!”

“Angels? What you mean those statue things?” I asked.

“Demons from the ancient world.” Roxxi explains.

“But they’re just statues.” I said.

“Only when you see them.”

“What does that mean?” asked Gareth.

“The lonely assassins my kin once called them. No one knows exactly how or when they came into being but they’re as old as the world. Or very nearly. And they have survived because they have the most perfect defense mechanism imaginable. They’re quantum locked. They don’t exist when they’re being observed, the moment they are seen by any other living creature they freeze into rock. No choice it’s a fact in their biology, in the sight of any living being they literally turned to stone. And you can’t kill a stone.” Roxxi then shrugged as she continued, “Of course a stone can’t kill you either but then you turn your head away. And you blink…..and oh yes they can.” Her voice dropped into a more menacing, darker tone in narration.

I turned to the statue and began piecing together that this was the additional surprise Roxxi had for this year’s campaign.

“Nobody take your eyes off that thing.” I spoke lowly. Everyone turned to the angel statue as Roxxi continued to speak as Luthien.

“That’s why they cover their eyes, they’re not weeping they can’t risk looking at anyone. Their greatest asset is also their greatest curse, they can never be seen. And I’m sorry, I’m very, very sorry. It’s up to you Beren.”

“What must I do?” I asked.

“My necklace that I gave you, it’s what they’re after. The magic within it is enough for them to feast on for eternity but the damage they could do could switch off the sun and destroy the moon. You mustn’t let them get it.”

“But how do we stop them? How do we save you?” I pleaded. Roxxi looked down then up before she said.

“Oh no, I’m sorry but that’s all my sister was able to see of you finding my father’s orb. I don’t know what’s stopped you all from talking but I can only guess, they’re there. The angels have found you.” Roxxi turned toward the statue quickly in fear and she leaned over till her face was illuminating under the lights from the orb. “Now listen to me, your lives could depend on this. Don’t blink. Don’t even blink! Blink and you’re dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe! Don’t turn your back! Don’t look away! And don’t blink!”

Roxxi’s eyes were full of panic as she got into Luthien’s monologue before ending it as the light from the orb faded into darkness.

“Good luck.” And thanks to the now nighttime sky, all was pitch black.

“No! No! No Luthien!” I cried out.

“I-I’ll try to bring the message back up.” Gareth said.

“What good will that do?”

“Here let me see it!” soon I heard all the guys coming and talking over one another as they took the orb and I began to realize something.

“Stop! Stop! Stop! STOP!!” everyone went silent. “Whose looking at the statue?” everyone remained silent.

Suddenly lights came on through the forest and the angel statue had now changed positions, standing just a few inches away from us but this time we got a good look at it’s face. Hollowed stone eyes, sharp fangs built within the mask and an empty void-like statue mouth. The long, sharp nails on it’s fingers stood about maybe 3-4 inches long and were extended outward to us.

We all jumped back. Jesus Roxxi, you really outdid yourself this time, even more than when you did ‘The Curse on Moonscar isle.’ These were an even scarier makeup and props than the zombies were.

“Nobody take your eyes off that thing. Remember what Luthien said. Don’t blink.”

“No problem, I mean after all it’s just one of them, right? We’ll be okay if we just keep staring at this one.” Mike said.

“Three actually.” I said.

“What?” hissed Dustin.

“I saw three more while we were walking through the trail. And I thought I heard some movement so they might be moving closer to us.”

“With the statue assassin having you all under its mercy, what move do you all plan to take? Remember, no amount of mortal magic nor swords can kill these stone creatures.” Roxxi told us from the table.

“Why can’t we just give them the necklace now and be done with this?” Wheeler said.

“You’re really suggesting that to me?! You heard Luthien the damage they could do with the power within this necklace can switch off both the sun and moon. Absolutely not!” I snapped.

“If no mortal weapons can defeat them, nor any magic then we’re screwed dude! I hate to say it but I agree with Tayr.” Said Jeff.

“I concur.” Said Grant.

“Fuck you guys! My wife sacrificed herself to hold these things off I’m not about to let it be in vain!”

“He’s right. Everything has a weakness, and Luthien gave us the answer. They can’t look at each other. So all we need to do is find a way to get them all together.” Said Henderson.

“And how do we do that exactly?” asked Wheeler.

“Your eyes are straining to not blink but the urge is too strong. All you men can do is continue to stare at this horrifying statue that seems to be mocking you by remaining still.” Roxxi narrates our actions. “What is your move?”

“Nog is right, Luthien did say there is a way to stop them. But it can’t be here. At the very bottom of the palace is a catacomb chamber. It’s tunnels and pathways are like a labyrinth. If we get them down there, they’ll never be able to get out.” I told them.

“Alright, then we get them to the chambers. But how do we get there without taking our eyes off of this thing?” asked Gareth.

“Let’s get back to the table and make our move, two people at a time keep looking at it.” I told them. Taking hold of Dustin’s and Gareth’s arms, we all backed up first Jeff, Grant and I looking back to get us back to the table leaving Wheeler and Henderson to keep their eyes on the demon before us.

“Guys my eyes are getting tired over here. I don’t think I can hold it!” Wheeler exclaimed.

“I’ll switch with you Tayr, we’re almost there. Don’t turn till I look up.” Gareth told him. When Gareth looked at the angel statue, he tapped Mike and allowed him to turn away. Finally we made it back to the table.

“Tyrion and I will take the first watch, you three make the first move.” I volunteered. Grant nodded and we looked at the statue while Henderson said.

“Give me the d20.” I heard the dice clicking between his hands and heard as it rolled across the table.

“16. Most impressive young dwarf. One by one, you each manage to successfully leave the library and head down towards the chambers Beren had talked about earlier. Down the stairs you all go, the further down you go, the darker it becomes. But then something begins to glow around Beren’s neck, it’s Luthien’s necklace shining like a star giving you the light in the dark. Eventually you come before a large set of doors with an Elvish inscription on top. It reads aloud: ‘Secrets in the dark, Secrets in the abyss. All who enter here are lost and sealed. Only the one with the heart of a star can pass through the darkness’.”

“‘The heart of a star?’ That must be Luthien’s necklace, right?” asked Henderson.

“Yes. My wife was known throughout these lands as ‘The she-elf born from the heart of a star’. She came early into this world, so frail and fragile, even the greatest of all the Elven healers feared she wouldn’t last pass the winter. So her parents prayed to their Goddess Varda to save their daughter. Then one night, a star had fallen out of the sky and landed right into their garden. Taking a small piece of that star, they touched it to Luthien’s heart and her hair gave out a starlight glow, her eyes shined silvery-white and she began to cry.”

“That’s why his wife’s also been named ‘Evanstar’ because of her starlight beauty. It was as if she were a star in human form.” Jeff said wistfully.

“So her necklace will help us through the chambers?” asked Wheeler.

“Seems like it.” I clenched the handmade necklace Roxxi made for me to represent Luthien’s gift to her beloved Beren.

“So is there like another password you gotta speak to get the doors opened or….? What?” asked Henderson.

“No, the way to get in is through this.” I showed him Luthien’s necklace and took the die and rolled it and saw it land on 17.

“Beren takes off his wife’s Evenstar necklace and places it against the wall of the door. The runes glow and soon a soft rumble is heard as the doors begin to unlock and open. There you all stand before the Great chamber of the secrets. A dark, dank chamber that extends far and wide. A single pathway lies ahead with various tunnels surrounding the chamber. A small river also surrounds you as the small sounds of dripping water can be heard echoing through the chamber.”

“Now we walk.” I answered.

“But which doorway do you take?” Roxxi asked me.

“There’s over a dozen of them, I say we take the one just straight ahead. When in doubt, gotta go straight right?” said Jeff.

“I disagree, we should take the center door on the left.” Argued Gareth.

“If I may make a suggestion gentlemen,” Roxxi soon spoke up. “Take heed to what the inscription on the door said.” The guys looked confused before Dustin spoke up repeating part of the inscription.

“Only the one with the heart of a star can pass through the darkness’. I think Beren should make the decision.” Everyone turned to me and I looked at all of them. I turned to Roxxi who had her arms crossed and a gleam in her eye.

She wanted this to play out this way, for me to be the deciding factor in this whole campaign. Alright then, if that’s how you want it Roxxi, it’s what you shall get.

“Give me the d20.” She smirked and picked up the d20 die and tossed it over to me. I caught it in my right hand and rolled it between my palms. I then rolled the die between my hands and let it roll across the table. We waited on baited breath until it stopped and landed on 15.

“Beren takes the leadership role.” Said Roxxi with pride.

“Alright gentlemen, we go straight but take the one to the right of the entrance dead ahead.”

“You all follow Beren’s lead. Once you go through your chosen door, Luthien’s pendant begins to glow of pure starlight, giving you all a light in the dark place, when all other lights have gone out.” As she narrated, I noticed how the spotlight that had once shone around us to reveal that real life angel, had now turned into a soft, silvery light. Giving us the real feeling of Luthien’s starlight power. “As you continue on, you soon come to a fork in the trail, do you proceed left or right Beren the Bard?”

“We go left at the fork.” I said to her.

“You go left. The pendant glows brighter in the darkness. You continue straight on until another fork is seen up ahead, this time there are three options. Which way do you take your company now?”

“We take the center pathway.”

“Are you sure?” she asked skeptically with a raised brow.

“Beren, I don’t know maybe we should go left again.” Gareth suggested.

“No, no we should take the path on the right.” Said Henderson.

“No, we take the center path. That is my final answer.” The corner of Roxxi’s lips lifted in a slight grin before she narrated.

“You go down the center path. The pendant starting to flicker until you finally reach the end of the path to see a large chamber before you. There you see you are surrounded by the stone angels.”

“Holy shit!” Mike exclaimed. We all looked up to see more of the real life angel statues had now surrounded our table just standing feet away from us.

“Still think this was a good idea?” muttered Gareth.

“Fear not though gentlemen, for as you look down below you notice a special sigil engraved on the floor. It had great stag-like points coming out from each end and the points crossed each other. In between the antler-like base was a giant star in the same shape as Luthien’s pendant.”

“This is it, we made it. Now all we have to do is get them to look at each other.”

“Without getting killed ourselves.” Mentioned Grant.

“I concur.” Jeff agreed.

“Now gentlemen, this is the final move. What shall you do now to save yourselves and the Elvish kingdom of the stars?”

“I’ll create a barrier around us to protect us from them as they surround us. So one of us has to blink just seconds after my shield is up.” said Gareth.

“Roll for the initiative.” Roxxi said. Gareth took the dice in his hands and rolled it but we all groaned as it landed on a 6. “The shield fails for suddenly appearing is the same angel you all saw near the library that you managed to escape from. It’s right arm extended out pointing at Beren.”

“Uhh Beren, why is it……” Dustin started to ask but then the silver glowing light that surrounded us started to flicker on and off.

“Shit it’s starting to drain the power from Luthien’s necklace!” I exclaimed.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit what do we do?! What do we do?! What do we do!?” Henderson asked in a panic.

With each flicker of the lights, we saw how the angel statues were getting closer, their terrifying faces flickering in and out of the darkness as they kept changing positions with each flicker.

“We gotta use Luthien’s pendant to create a shield, it’s our only hope!” Jeff exclaimed.

“Quick Beren roll the die!” everyone was in a panic as I grabbed the die and I ordered them to shut up as I quickly rolled the dice for my initiative move. Roxxi taking every second of enjoyment at seeing our panicked faces and fear, and knowing she didn’t need to narrate what was happening.

Because we were living it.

Finally I rolled a 17 and proclaimed out.

“Starlight barrier!”

“A beam of white light surrounds you all and protects you from the angels, just seconds away from escaping their touch.” We all panted as we saw that the angels had us now completely surrounded, entrapping us with their bodies and caging us in with their arms.

“Oh shit, oh gods above. That was close.” Henderson panted in relief.

“We’re not done yet.” I said lowly.

“Afraid you are correct Beren the Bard.” Roxxi said solemnly and darkly. “For even with the barrier up, the angels now proceeded to slam their fists against the barrier. Luthien’s necklace now going from a flicker to a dim as the magic within was starting to fade out.”

Once again the guys began speaking over one another frantically asking what we could do but I knew there was nothing that we could do. We were trapped, the magic of Luthien’s pendant was fading fast, and there’s no chance of us getting out of here fast enough. I’ll salute you on this Roxxi, but never did I think you’d get us all killed in the end.

“We do nothing.” I solemnly said.

“What? No Beren we-there must be something. I can help…..”

“Elven magic is extremely delicate Gareth the Great. You of all people should know that. Even if you tried to give some of your power to the pendant, who knows what it’ll do to us in the meantime. Even then, we’d probably be dead before that even happens once the shield is down. My friends, thank you for helping me find the answers I needed.”

The guys all looked at each other confused, shocked and horrified at my immediate surrender. They turned to Roxxi who merely looked at them with her arms crossed.

“It was great seeing you again Beren. And venturing with you these past few weeks felt like the good old times.” Said Gareth.

“Agreed.” Jeff and Grant said together.

“And even though we didn’t get to know you for very long, you’re as brave and courageous as the guys said you have been Beren the Bard.” Said Henderson. Wheeler nodded.

“Then I guess we’re all in agreement.” I turned to Roxxi who had the d20 between her fingers. “We’re ready.” She tossed me the die and I caught it in my hand. If we’re all going out, then at least we should go out in the most grand way possible. I blew into my palm and shook the die between my hands before letting it roll across the table.

Various numbers flashed before us ranging from the lower numbers mainly and I feared it’d be the most quickest, and painfullest death we’d all go through, but then the dice stopped and landed on 20.

“Crit hit.”

“The shield is destroyed, you all huddle together but just as you’re awaiting your end, there’s nothing but silence. You look up and see that the angels aren’t looking at you, but at each other. Their once horrifying faces now still as they stared at one another. With Luthien’s last will of magic, she had managed to force the angels to look at each other once the shield was destroyed.”

“Wait so we—we won?” asked Henderson. A slow wide smile came across Roxxi’s face as she deepened her voice to a more mature female tone (almost how she does Galadriel whenever she reads to me on my bad days).

“‘Indeed you did.’ A voice echoed through the darkness. A flash of light briefly appears and there stands the King and Queen along with Luthien herself. ‘You all managed to outwit the very enemy that’s eluded even our most powerful magic’. Said Luthien’s father. ‘For centuries our magic of starlight had kept these fell creatures under a watchful eye, but when Luthien left us, the magic keeping them sealed away began to fade. That’s why we had called her home, but in their millennia’s of isolation in the dark and light, they became too strong for even our magic to keep them at bay’. Said her mother.”

“So they’re…..never going to move again?” asked Wheeler.

“‘No Tayr. As I told you, their greatest asset is also their greatest curse. We’ve tried to gather them together once we realized our magic wouldn’t work, but one by one my people were picked off until they became too fast for us to handle.’ Luthien said.”

“But you’re alright now? Everything feeling right as rain?” I asked worriedly.

“‘Yes meleth nin. We’re all fine. Once you had sealed the angel’s fate, their curse upon us was reversed. You freed us. All of you. And we the Starlight Elves are eternally in your debt.’ With that decree, a grand festival was held in your honor and with that my friends, our Halloween campaign comes to an end.”

We all applauded and cheered, and that’s when the angels in costume began to move and more applause was heard as people began coming out from the shadows dressed in black tech clothes.

“And I’d also like to thank these fellow NPC’s and techies for bringing the last segment of my campaign back to life.” Roxxi said and that’s when the guys and I cheered for them as they all came together and gave us a bow. “Thanks again guys and I say now calls for a photo, everyone get together!” we all got together around the table as one of the techies set up a camera on a tripod before racing back over to us. “Everyone say scream!”

“SCREAM!!!!” a flash came from the camera. Once the photo was taken, we all packed up our folders, the table, books, game set, and the set props and all began to leave Pelennor fields bidding everyone a goodbye and happy Halloween.

After getting the kids back home, Roxxi and I made it back home and were getting ready for bed. She was taking out the last few pins from her wig she wore and removed it.

“I gotta admit it babe, this was probably better than the Moonscar Isle campaign you did our junior year.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Absolutely. And those angel costumes you had those guys wearing, babe I think you’ve forever changed my view on statues forever.” The corner of her lips turned up into a smirk. “So how did you get all those people involved?”

“I met Courtney at rehab. Her uncle works at those Halloween haunt fairs over at Chicago every year and sometimes she’s helped out whenever she visits him. She got everything from the lights and costumes from him. Most of them were actual workers at the haunts and were gracious enough to book a flight here to do this little campaign of mine.”

“I swear you’ve got the magic touch when it comes to connections, you sure you can’t do that to speed up the process of the band’s success?”

“Sorry Teddy, my magical touch doesn’t touch the music industry. Just the makeup and hairstyle dept.” she finished wiping away the last of her makeup before coming over to me. I pulled back the covers for her to get in and cuddle up to me.

She buried her face into my neck and I pulled her in close, softly kissing the center of her forehead.

“But I know you’ll make it big. Once we’re done with school you’ll have all the time to focus on just the music, and one day you’ll get your shot.”

“With my lucky charm at my side, I don’t see how we can’t fail.” Her eyes softened as she smiled at me and her lips met with mine. “Now can I say something from one Dungeon Master to another?” she tilted her head in that puppy-like manner (that I always found so adorable).

“I thought you said you liked the campaign?” there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

“Oh sweetheart, you misunderstood. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it, I would just like to, you know…..add a little something extra to the ending.” I said reaching out and stroking her tri-colored strand and tucking it behind her ear. “If you catch my drift.” I raised my brow suggestively.

“And what would you like to add? Dungeon Master.” She asked in her Dungeon Mistress voice, that low, seductive tone that always made me go hard.

“After their reunion and having his wife once again, back in his arms. Beren took Luthien to their bed, his body hovering over hers.” I reached over and grabbed my black and red d20 die, holding it between my index and tall finger as I smirked down at her.

“Make your move Beren the Bard.”

“With pleasure, Luthien the Starlight.” I rolled the die but in the end it didn’t matter what number I landed on. I pulled the sheets over the two of us and we spent a night of pure bliss moaning not only our own names but our characters names as well.

This was definitely a Halloween night to remember.

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charbies · 5 months

Text

been having a tough time.. stuff about it under the cut

writing a stream of consciousness about the past few months. I've been really depressed. I kept getting burned out from my job almost monthly, but could bounce back when I took a little time off. Then midway through the summer, it's like I just got stuck and couldn't get.. unstuck. by fall I had a full blown depressive episode; in september I could admit I was depressed, in october I went on medication for it, and by the time november came around it felt like there was no end in sight. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I felt like I was in a fugue state and missed it because I barely existed.

the ways this showed up in my body are unlike anything I ever experienced in my life before and that was terrifying. my head and body ached like I was coming home from war every day. I was falling asleep at the wheel, and it was a recurring pattern; my body was shutting itself off when the thought of what I'd have to deal with at work was becoming too much. I burst into tears whenever I saw my friends post pics hanging out and wished I could live closer and see them more. I felt so overwhelmed and empty, I needed everything to stop and I wanted to disappear.

my job is fucking hard. I try not to talk about it on here, but I work with people who are hurting and traumatized. I regularly have to tell them when I believe the choices they're making are going to wind up killing them. I have to tell them the last things they want to hear and still hope they trust me. The average burnout rate at my job is 2 years, I've been there for 16 months. I'm 24 and the youngest one there by a long shot. I know I'm good at what I do, but still feel way in over my head, I feel like I don't get to be my age. I've thought about quitting but I don't think I have it in me to leave and start over somewhere new just yet, not now. I feel trapped because as hard as the work is, I get way better amenities there than at most other places; this place is basically as good as it gets where I live and it's still killing me.

even tho I know how severe things were getting, I feel so guilty for ways I fell off the face of the earth. I stopped talking to friends, family, coworkers, pretty much everyone. I bailed on linktober and a bunch of other art projects I lined up and thought I had the energy to pull off. In general I just feel like a failure even though I know that isn't true.

I broke down hard and took a leave of absence, I get a few weeks off from my job. I've been off for 10 days and as badly as I've wanted to draw the idea also makes me want to jump out of my skin. So I'm taking time and hoping it comes back while I pull myself together.

I could use some advice or wisdom from anyone who has been through this in any capacity. Even silly stuff in my inbox would make my day. Tumblr was my comfort place when I was a kid and I think it will do me good to be able to look back on this post after I've worked through this and I'm doing better. Thanks for reading all of this if you did, it means a lot <3

#brb crying into my cat #tw depression #tw suicide #tw vent

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goose-books · 3 months

Text

goose-books productions: a 2023 review

only [checks watch] two months late! view the image in higher quality here; read past years-in-review here; and thank you as always to my beloved @yvesdot for the template!

i shan't be dishonest; 2023 was not exactly the year of max. but i still got a lot of good writing done! transcripts + commentary under the cut, and, uh, take the godsong character roster again.

cws: animal death (february), pregnancy/miscarriage + body image issues (july), addiction (september), self-harm-as-metaphor (october)

january

what’s that? godsong ran away with me for another year? well, it does that. in the second of a plotted trilogy, anna (roughly: what if aeneas were a very sad lesbian?) and her lieutenants visit a soothsayer. ichari wants to kill for her, btw. anna please let them kill for you,

“Have we got to sacrifice an animal?” Sascha said, tilting his head. “Let you dig around in the entrails?” “If you’d like,” the Sibyl said, upper lip wrinkling. “But I’m haughty enough to believe I can make do with a bit of holy blood. Not you. Annadrijanna, if you would give me your hand.” Anna didn’t move. Her eyes widened, very slightly, as she stared at the hand the Sibyl had extended to her, palm up. Ichari’s hand was on their knife again before they could blink. Damn the gods and Avender’s Sibyl, and damn Anna’s quest, the moment she needed it they could have their blade in the prophet’s throat no matter what holy punishment tumbled down on their heels— “It won’t be like the other,” the Sibyl said, nodding to Anna’s right hand. “I keep my tools clean. Far less messy than entrails.” From their cloak pocket they drew a glinting silver pin, topped with a bead of pearl. “Just a prick, that’s all.” Ichari couldn’t tell if Anna’s chest was rising and falling beneath the robes, or if she had calcified entirely. “Anna,” they said, soft, warning. Almost pleading. Just give me the word, Anna. Just say the word. “You’ve a lot of ghosts clinging to your robes, Annadrijanna,” the Sibyl said softly. “I need a bit of life.”

february

while anna’s doing that, ambergris is causing problems. raised in regency patriarchyville, she recently befriended a dragon and received Powers; now she’s working toward 1. making it seem like her family’s manor is haunted 2. killing her parents and 3. having gay sex. not necessarily in that order.

Blood and yolk still stuck to her hands, gumming the webbing between thumb and forefinger. But it was a pretty picture, the mews desecrated, the falcons gone mad and tearing open their eggs. The duchy would whisper that Pyranimia had forsaken even the birds, that the Armindale fortune was suffocating in broken shells, and no one would consider that it was only nature, that rabbits and snakes and stable cats would swallow down their young if they got hungry. But not here, Ambergris thought, serene, picturing what her mother would say when she learned of the mews—the slight twitch of her mouth before her face settled back into glacial calm. Not you. You wish you could. You’re starving for it. But you won’t be rid of me now. You don’t know that yet. But I hold you in my hands now. If I were really a sorceress, I could twist up your body, ruin the organs that made me, the ones that hurt you. Or I could take them out and let you go free. She could sympathize. Abandoned by the goddess, she too might have withered and waned, and come to loathe the children sapping her strength as they grew inside her body. But her mother had made Ambergris too well for that—too cold to love a child or a husband, too cold to shrink from blood. You took the knife from your chest and put it in mine, Ambergris thought. But the gods have been watching. My god has been watching. The storm is building. And before I ever let you eat me, Mother, I will finish a daughter’s work and drain you dry. She raised her hand to her mouth, where her thumb met her forefinger, and licked away the blood.

march

in the spring i wrote a very long paper about antony and cleopatra (the shakespeare play, and also the people, and also the echoes of their story in the aeneid). which got me thinking about the deliberate narrative parallels between dido and cleopatra, which got me writing a ten-minute play where they have a one-night stand. happens to the best of us. i’m very proud of how this one came out, actually, but i have no idea what to do with it. target audience of weird lesbian classicists?

D: I want to be someone they don’t write tragedies about. C: (to the audience) Well. How charmingly ironic. D: If I could just—have—if I could just—just a life. Just someone who loves me. Just someone who won’t go away. Something boring. Something monotone. I don’t care how good I look burning. I want to stop being on fire. C: You have absolutely no sense of flair. D: I miss my sister. (A pause. She looks to C.) C: Can’t help you there. I had mine killed. D: (exhausted) Happens.

april

fans of the aeneid, please enjoy The Scene In Which The Protag Loses To A Tree. if godsong ever drops i will accept a 10-page double-spaced essay about how it is in conversation with the jason & medea myth.

Anna set his jaw. He braced his wooden hand against the trunk, then stepped up onto the coil and reached for the golden branch. It was slick and cold under his fingers, closer to stone than wood; Anna took hold and yanked. The branch slid from his fingers. Anna grabbed the trunk so he didn’t fall backward, ice jolting up his spine. The serpent hadn’t moved. Again he tried to snap the branch. A whisper of leaves as it bent, but there was no give; again his sweat-damp hand fell away. The word that slipped from his mouth startled him, because it was the sort of word no one used in a temple, something Caradorra had been scolded for saying in front of their mother. Another glance at Sascha. The serpent hadn’t stirred. Anna wiped his hand on his robes, straining up on his toes, and wrapped his hand around the base of the branch. If he could saw at it—but his sword lay gleaming and useless in the grass, his calves starting to ache, the branch warming under his touch. Please, Iv, please, please, please— He ignored the flicker in the corner of his eye: movement from the lakeside. But then came the hiss, rising like steam from the water thrown at the charred walls of a burning city, and his blood ran cold. Breaking from the lake, wet and shimmering, came an enormous frilled head. The second serpent, awake and alert, slitted yellow eyes fixed on Anna. It moved faster than thought—legs bunching, coils rippling, launching itself for the tree. “Sascha, down!” Ichari shouted from the treeline, and the gun went off, louder than godly thunder, and the branch beside Anna burst into splinters, and as he gave a last desperate yank the golden branch snapped cleanly into his hand.

may

while working on the actual plot of godsong, i was also fleshing out the backstory, and ended up stumbling into the personalities of anna’s parents (a t4t4t throuple! let’s go gay people). so here’s a bit of anna backstory from the perspective of his mother, who is wonderful and nervous. did you know anna was chosen for priesthood at age 11? probably had no long-term psychological effect on her at all.

It was a celebration for Eli’s records: three days and three nights of festival feasting, of singing and dancing and hymns, of the temple bells ringing a clangorous echo from dawn until dusk. In past years, after past Ivtouchings, the celebrations had been citywide but quieter, briefer—the ceremonial anointment before the temple doors, to mark the new priest as a new melody in Iv’s living voice, and then a song. But it had been three hundred years since Iv had plucked a child from the rings of Ivander to holiness. No simple ceremony would suffice. On the first day, the older Ivtouched helped Anna atop an oxcart, the horns of each ox wrapped in gold ribbon, and led him in cheering parade through the city’s spiraling roads to the temple. In the street, in the surging shouting crowds that followed on foot, Radi cheered her voice hoarse and tried to etch the picture into her memory: the brilliant blue of the sky, the loose tail of ribbon flapping from one oxhorn, the glint of the sun off the bronze-painted spokes of the cart’s wheels. All of those details she might have set to canvas, with a small enough brush and a steady enough hand. But she knew even then that she wouldn’t try. There was no replicating her son’s smile, so broad it must have ached, or the dazed look of joy in his eyes. As if he were dreaming and praying not to wake. As if some curtain had unveiled before him to show him the heavens in shining vivid color, the world created for him anew. Someone else’s hands would mark him holy; someone else’s hands had dressed him in the dark Ivtouched robes, billowing out behind him in the breeze. He wasn’t quite tall enough. The hem was pinned up so it didn’t drag. Every few minutes atop the cart, Anna’s hand drifted down to hike the fabric up, more twitchy than deliberate, each yank a quiet spear through Radi’s heart.

june

please refer to my february comments on that list of ambergris’s.

Ambergris regarded them coolly. She had pulled them around the back of the orchestra into a corner: curtained from the rest of the room by a clot of musicians, the strings near too loud to speak over, the lanterns throwing warped shadows over the floor. “I apologize,” she said, slow, “if I startled you, Captain. I’d like a word.” Ichari’s heart still pattered at their ribs. Again they forced down the shaking need to wipe that faint smirk from her face. “You’ve had a few. You satisfied yet?” “Y-you’ve met my husband,” Ambergris said, “twice now.” So she had been watching, then, probably sunken into the shadows like a grotesque. “Twice too many times,” they said, curling their lip. “You aren’t impressed.” “Don’t let me offend your wifely sensibilities.” Ichari flashed their wickedest grin to see if she would squirm. “But you’re too pretty to go to waste on an ill-dressed fool’s limp cock.” Ambergris didn’t flinch, but her eyes widened slightly. Big innocent eyes, Sascha’s eyes, with all the guilelessness of a kitten. “Am I?” “Too good for him? I’m sorry you had to find out this way, duchess.” “Not duchess,” Ambergris said, “yet. I find—I know I’m too good. Am I pretty.”

july

more backstory, this time in second person about ambergris’s mother, who gets a POV in the book proper. not a very fun POV, but there's generational trauma to explore. creusa is the doctor that's been called in to help jonquilla through a miscarriage; she is gnc as fuck (jonquilla voice: you're insane).

Four weeks Creusa tends your bedside—four fuzzy weeks drifting in and out of fever, your thoughts racing like loosed horses, as you bleed out the last of your hoped-for heir. You loathe her for it, with a bright-hot intensity you can only grasp for moments at a time between unconsciousnesses. You loathe her for daring to pity you, for helping you sit up to drink down your pain relief; you loathe her for doing it well. You loathe her because she is fresh and young and rosy-cheeked and you are soft and lumpy and pathetic. You loathe her because she is beautiful despite all she does to destroy it, despite the way she prowls the manor in trousers, despite the fact that you have never once seen her suck in her stomach. Beautiful the way you were mere years ago. Beautiful enough to make breath catch when those worn fingers tuck her shorn hair behind her ears. What gives her the right to see you like this? What gives her the right to sprawl out in your home, in your chambers, in all her impropriety? What gives her the right to choose to be—this? Does she have a husband somewhere who lets her run free? Children she tends to with the same slight curve of a smile she gives you? Sisters? Brothers? Who does she fall into bed with at night? You want to step inside her skin, to pry it up, to take her apart and see how her heart beats. She’s had her hands in enough of your blood. You want to hold her organs. Your dreams come in tatters. Your stomach swollen to bursting again. The endless hallways. Dittany soaring away from you. Children squirming in your gut. Creusa stroking your hair. Sometimes those are not dreams, you think; sometimes your eyes flutter open and she is there, patient, quiet, calm. As she always is, except for the crease in her soft rose-petal lips, because when you are asleep she does not smile at you. She watches you as if she is afraid for you. She watches you as if she is guilty of something. There are other dreams, too. Dreams you refuse to remember.

august

in august i had a Medical Experience. but first i finished the draft of godsong2, because i never fucking lose. this bit is from the very last scene, where no one is doing well.

Most days she shaved her face each day after morningsong, when she had the strength and a passable mirror. In Ivander she had not needed to, but she liked the look of it, the cleanness; in Armindale Manor she had been particularly careful. Sascha must have noticed, or picked it up from her face, because he scrambled wobbling back to his feet. “I’ll fetch a razor, eh?” “Sascha—” Ichari started, but Sascha waved a hand. “I’ll do it, Anna,” he said, earnest. Her twinge of warmth was faint; she inclined her head slightly. They had done something like this before, Sascha scrunching up next to her to wind his fingers through her hair—hair, Anna realized distantly, that was soot-choked and tangled now. He had spun her waves into a thick braid, then a number of tiny ones, chattering all the while; she had repaid him for it once with a spiraling swirl of mehndi across each of his fluttery hands. Now, though, when he held the razor up to her face, there was a new trepidation in the set of his lips. It took Anna too many sticky seconds to realize he was trying and failing to settle the terrible shake in his hands. “Sorry,” he said, blanching, when Anna looked at him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I…” “Armindale,” Ichari said, soft. Gentler than she had ever heard his name in their voice. They held out a palm. “S’okay.” Anna tilted her face toward them. Sascha scooted back to wrap his arms around his knees and watch Ichari sliver the hair from her chin, one hand braced against her cheek, their hands callused and cold and kind.

september

and we've reached the part of the year where school hit me like a Fucking Train. here's some carronash. that is, MILF julius caesar x neopronouns mark antony, in an extremely uneven borderline-religious-worship dynamic that has swallowed the latter's entire life (more about their deal here). you know, out of context here, they almost look sweet.

Ash shut xir eyes so xe wouldn’t see her hear it, and xe croaked, “I need a drink.” Her chest rose and fell beneath xim in silence. Somewhere beyond xir walls, a cart rattled over the streets. “I know,” Ash said, panic starting to rise cold in xir throat. “I know—I know, but it hurts, I need a drink, Julienne, it hurts, I think I’m going to die. I think I might fucking die.” I know you do, she had said the last time xe’d told her xe needed a drink. I know you do. I know you know why it’s a bad idea. And she had kissed xir forehead like an anointment and held xim when xe shook with frustrated sobs. Nothing now. Just her hand combing through xir curls. “Julienne,” Ash said, near a whine, the craving a spidery itch beneath xir skin. “Ash,” Julienne said. “Am I asking too much of you?” It didn’t sound like a condemnation. Xir insides curled anyway. “No,” xe said, small as a scolded child. “No, I just—I just…” “If it’s too much,” she said, soft. “If you can’t bear it. There’s no shame in that.”

october

i posted this poem here, but we’ll see it again! i think it’s kind of heavy-handed, but that's what happens when you try to articulate an insanity.

2:35 grindstone // max franciscovich there is a knife in my hand. there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand. i hold it by the blade. when i squeeze the blood runs down through the webbings of my fingers and the sting is hot. if i uncurl my fingers i will let go of the knife and it will not hurt. if i let go of the knife i will forget pain. suffering and fear will dull and scab over and my eyes will close. when i squeeze i remember it hurts. i remember i am dangerous. my eyes can close. i can cut with a touch. if i let go of the knife it will not hurt to make a fist. if i let go of the knife i will make a fist. if i let go of the knife in my hand i will forget there is a knife in my hand. when i squeeze the sting whets my thoughts and i see the world in all its brutal glory and i touch nothing i could ruin. there is a knife in my hand. there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand.

november

no nano this year :( i was being crushed by school and mentals, unfortunately. which sucks, because i've had a streak since 2018! but alas. next year. i did write a little more godsongverse backstory, set in anna's old city and starring the book's hector and andromache figures (ira and lucia, respectively; imi and nia are their twin toddlers).

Here was a part of the war that would not be told: that sometimes it would be late, very late, the sun sunken into the earth and the children in bed, before Ira came home. That Imi and Nia were asleep, Lucia suspected, was not an effect but a reason, because sometimes her heart-knit lover was nigh unrecognizable in the doorway, hunched and haggard, bathed in gore, and the twins would have been terrified. Blasphemous, maybe, for Lucia to see the dried blood cracking in rivulets on Ira’s skin and think of Iv’s shattered face. But even blasphemy was better than the other reason she shied from the thought—that likening Ira to the holiest of martyrs felt like giving up. Giving into what she suspected everyone else already thought inevitable. After the first night she had stopped fearing the worst. There would have been no missing the uproar in the city. Her fears were simpler: how much blood there might be, how many times Ira would wake in the night. But unless the wailing rose high enough to shake the temple down, the sixth wall of Ivander stood, and Lucia sat at home with the spinning and waited.

december

and… would you look at that, more godsong. i did write non-godsong things this year! but most of them are short stories i'm hoping to send out for publication, so i'm not keen on sharing yet. this, however, is literally a godsong x hadestown AU that i’ve been calling spadestown, and if i ever finish it i Will be posting it here. in a beautiful alternate world, godsong is an annaspades romcom. (it's not even that in this AU.)

Lying on the bed watching Anna write, Spades said, “You know xim. The queen.” Not an accusation, exactly. But a search for solid ground, an escape from the ice shifting under her. At the desk, Anna tapped the end of his pen against his lips. Distracting lips, unfairly plush. “Yes,” he said after an absent moment. “It is—natural. Xe returns every summer.” “Only here?” “As far back as I remember.” Anna blinked; Spades watched it sink in. “But not where you come from.” Spades shrugged. There were gods where she had come from, too. Not the sort one poured drinks for. “I suppose we can’t all be holy,” she said, reaching out across the narrow span of the room to his chair. Anna took her hand, his skin warm against hers, his pen calluses already familiar—the tip of his second finger, the inside of his third. When she closed her eyes, Ash’s grin flashed behind her lids. Xe must have known who she was. Gods always knew. “Sing it again,” she said, patting the bed beside her. Anna was staring at the page. He hummed another bar under his breath. Spades thought she might have to get up, to close the journal for him, to slip the pen from his hands and kiss him and hope he kissed back instead of dreaming louder. Then Anna said, “Sing what?” Spades tipped his chair back to hear him yelp. “What do you think, dipshit?” “My song?” Anna said, and there was his little winking smile. “Or our wedding hymn?” There was only one bed in the attic room, so they slept curled together. Invariably Spades woke with silky hair in her mouth. Not bad, she figured, for a night always warm.

and that's a wrap! i know i didn't post much this year, but i'm still hard at work at various odds and ends. thank you for sticking around, and i hope everyone reading this has a wonderful 2024!

#max.txt #max actually writes #year in review #okay tags time innit.#godsong tag #anna ivtouched #ichari felidore #sascha armindale #ambergris armindale #jonquilla armindale #julienne carron #ash pyrris #hellenira ivtouched #lucia tag #< poor girl doesn't have a last name yet. that's on me #cinquedea spades

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livfastdieyoung69 · 11 months

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BONES, BODY, SOUL.

A Jeff Hardy Story. (CH.6)

July 19th, 1999- RAW IS WAR

The night was almost over. After a very entertaining show, Triple H and The Undertaker were to end it, Chyna and Vince at ring side. Everything was going Triple H’s way, as it usually does with ringside friends, and he had managed to get the dead man pinned.

“ONE, TWO-“ The lights went out. The jumbotron flickered, unreadable font printing onto the screen as static blanketed over the stadium and a faint voice making its way under it. Through the uneasy, unintelligible whispers and Lawler's screeching, the ring floor rattled and pounded. The noise stopped, along with the voice before the words were finally clear.

“And they can, they can say we’re crazy, and we can say, well you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Silence rung before the lights were on once again on. A collective shock ran through everyone seeing The Game himself, bloodied on the mat, with no remnants of whoever it was besides a sledgehammer- much similar to one HHH himself had used months prior on The Rock.

AUGUST 26TH, 1999- THURSDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN

The crowd roared with life, anticipation building within every single fan. Road Dogg and Chris Jericho continued conflict, the crowd bringing the level of excitement it always does. As the match continued to build, and tension rose, Road Dogg managed to get Y2J in a submission hold. Just as Jericho's hand went to tap against the floor, the light went out.

Once again, the Jumbotron flickered with the blurry word, the eerie noise returning, and forcing its way into everyone’s ears. As the ringside announcers reminisced on the last time they saw the bright, white letters on the jumbotron, JR recalled that last time, the words were a bit blurrier, and now they seemed to be moving.

In the midst of the darkness, stuck in fear and shock, the arena sat in horror as they listened to one of the wrestlers struggle against the unknown attacker. It sounded rougher than last time, as if they had become more bloodthirsty.

No clear words rang through the air, only demented whispers followed by airy breath and sometimes a frightening laugh. The attacked wrestlers - still, no one knew which one- cries of anguish turned quiet and it was assumed the aggressor had finally stopped. But the lights still refused to turn on, and everyone watched as the blurry words morphed clear.

KARMA, it read.

Seconds later, it was once again gone, and the lights flashed on, its brightness burning, eyes watering and squinting, trying to look for the assailant and assailed. The image of Road Dogg lying on the mat, much alike to the former incident, yet this time, a thin rope laid next to him, the same one that had been used to lock Mick Foley and Chainsaw Charlie in the dumpster a year prior.

SEPTEMBER 6TH, 1999- RAW IS WAR

“Well, starting the night with an unexpected victory folks, the Rock & Sock tag team getting the upper hand over the Big Red Giant Kane, and his equally intimidating brother, The Undertaker!”

“Oh, it was nothing but luck! I sure do hope this luck continues tonight, we’ve got Jeff Jarrett vs. Jaqueline next, and boy, I sure hope she doesn’t face the same hope as all those other women have- oh, wait a minute, what's this?” Lawler’s gross intentions were put to an end as the stadium went dark, the jumbotron painting a picture of backstage- specifically of Jeff Jarrett, laying bloodied on the floor, an acoustic guitar a few feet from him, same as the one used to beat the Fabulous Moolah and Mae Young.

“I think your dreams have come true King, with the way Jarrett’s gripping his leg, it sure seems like he won’t be performing anytime soon. I’m quite sure this is another famous attack, from who we’ve learned goes by Karma, and if that is true I’m sure he was put in a figure four lock to go with that guitar besides him.”

SEPTEMBER 26TH, 1999- BACKLASH, E&C VS. THE MINISTRY OF DARKNESS

“We welcome you, to the sold-out Providence Civics Center, we welcome you to Backlash! Hi everybody i’m Jim Ross alongside the King, Jerry Lawler, and ladies and gentlemen, Shane Mcmahon dropped a bomb on Sunday Night Heat, the Stone Cold-Rock matchup for the WWF title will be no-holds-barred, King!” At Lawlers appreciation, JR continues. “And if Stone Cold lays his hands on referee Shane McMahon, Austin will be disqualified and lose the WWF title.”

“That’s the way it should be, I am so sick and tired of everything going Stone Cold Austin’s way. well, tonight Stone Cold if you’re worthy of being a champion you gotta big job in front of you pal.” Lawler continued his hateful ramble as the two teams came out, the lights darkening with the ministry's entrance after a very nervous looking Edge & Christian.

Both teams showed great strength in the ring, with a countless amount of flawless moves as the match progressed, and though The Ministry seemed to have an great amount of intensity, the other team was able to get an upper hand with a quick chair shot to Mideon and distracted referee. It didn’t seem as good of a choice as they thought it would be when Bradshaw looked them in the eyes from across the ring.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Edge and Christian simply laughed it off, believing the man was trying to threaten them. And then the music hit. But this time the lights didn’t go out.

“I think we’re due for another visit, JR! Or maybe they're playing tricks or something, these lights are all still on.” King commented the obvious for the people at home, and as he finished his sentence it was made clear there was no trick.

With black and white face paint covering the top half of their face, no pupils visible in their eyes, they made their way to the ring, chair in hand. Karma.

“My God, I don't think this is any kind of trick, King, I think this is who’s been attacking all of these wrestlers! By the looks of it, I think this Karma person is affiliated with The Ministry of Darkness.” JR continued as he watched E&C escape from the consequences of their actions and run into the crowd, leaving a brooding Karma with The Ministry.

They fit right into the group, all black clothes and a killer glare, deadly enough to put you into the ground or make you run the other way. They fit right in until they swung around and hit Mideon, then Bradshaw with the chair meant for Edge and Christian.

“Well, I don’t think they're running with The Ministry.” King summed up, earning a sarcastic comment in response from JR. All comments turned into silence when the only standing wrestler turned to them, death stare stinging into their faces as they began to stalk over to the table. Grabbing the microphone from where the ring announcer had left it, they spoke.

“I do not speak for anybody but me. I do not stand for anything except vengeance .” They looked into the camera as they continued to speak. “Your actions will have consequences and I will be them. Do what you wish, but know, I will be watching. I will rip you piece to piece if that’s what it takes, and I will not stop until he has told me to. I will not stop until fate comes for you.”

look at my posting on the thirteenth on the thirteenth hour after my lil poem w thirteen 🤭 it’s my fav number and fun fact, my bday is august 13th and Jeff’s is august 31st so obviously we’re soulmates!

Lemm: I dont trust anybody but me, i won’t listen to you or anyone else!

Five seconds later: there’s a man in my head telling me to do this and I’m listening ig (also turned into batman there for a sec)

I’m sorta trying to go by the story line of the time, just completely ignoring that the New Brood was a thing and that the Hardyz wore those lil flower pants for a bit but other than that all of this was like real matches, real dates, except for the dialogue during the Jeff Jarrett part lol

Judgement Day? Nah i only know Karma🤚 I don’t know how I got here and this definitely wasn’t what I was planning but it happened and ngl kinda luv it sooooo whatevs

OOOOHHHH AHHHHHH (I’ve been doin that around the house all week just like mr Leati Joseph Anoa’i himself)

#BONESBODYSOUL #jeff hardy x reader #jeff hardy #jeff hardy imagine #wwe #LIV WRITES;*!#RAHHHHHHH #jeff hardy‼️‼️#I LOVE HIM #he’s not even in this one lol oops #character development ig

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heavencasteel420 · 3 months

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I was feeling a bit stuck on my main WIPs, so for fun I wrote a couple of lines/paragraphs for each of my other story ideas (the proper ones where I have a general sense of the story's shape, not the shitpost ideas like "Chrissy turns into a car?"). Here are the ones for my Cute/Normal story ideas:

Long

Nancy Wheeler Can't Win (no UD AU, Nancy-centric)

Sometimes, Nancy thought her life would be easier if she were dating Jason Carver instead. Not better, necessarily. She didn't like Jason nearly as much as Steve; he was kind of pompous and, although he technically looked way more like Tom Cruise, she couldn't imagine ever finding him as sexy as she did Steve. She couldn't help but notice, though, that Chrissy Cunningham didn't have to be one person on Saturday night and another on Monday morning.

Life During Wartime (companion to above, centers on Will and Jonathan)

"I can't believe I'll be the last one to get girlfriend," Mike lamented as he and Will biked home from school. It was a perfect September afternoon, neither too hot nor too cold, and the first leaves were turning yellow. "First Lucas and Max, then Dustin and Suzie, now you and Megan. I'm going to die a virgin."

"We could all still die virgins," Will pointed out. "I don't think Lucas and Max are doing it yet, and Megan and I definitely aren't. And we're not even sure if Suzie is real."

Horse Girl (Stoncy, summer 1985)

The thing about being an asshole, Steve thought, as he listlessly scooped butter pecan ice cream for a couple of sixty-something ladies, was that it took a long time to catch up with you. For instance: the thing he'd spray-painted on the theater marquee about Nancy almost two years ago. Sitting on the hood of his car outside the 7-11, he'd resigned himself to her shunning him forever. He'd even gone to apologize to Jonathan first so he could put off seeing the cold disgust on her face. Then, one month later, she'd taken him back, accepting his apology as a matter of course. Maybe that should've been his first clue that something was wrong.

It's All a State of Mind (AU where Hopper-Byers siblings are psychic carnies/confidence artists in the 1930s)

"Heather likes you," El pointed out a few days later, after they'd settled in. They were in the dining tent, digging into some beef stew. "You could get close to her."

"Keep eating and forget what Murray said," Jonathan told her, although he couldn't summon any harshness to back it up. This was the best meal that he or the kids had eaten in months. "Heather puts up with me. She doesn't want to get close to anyone, either."

Heather Holloway was an aerialist, a pert dark-haired girl who'd joined the circus to get away from a home in some ways worse than the one that Lonnie had provided him and Will. She was friendly to Jonathan, but that was probably because he'd shown no interest in getting inside her drawers.

"So you admit it," Will said smugly. "We wouldn't mind if you got married, you know. So long as we liked her.

From the High to the Low to the End of the Show (S1 AU where the teens are in their late twenties)

"Doesn't it piss you off?" Fred asked her. "That he can just waltz in and get a job because he's 'so talented,' when the rest of us had to work hard and do it the right way?" "Eyes on your own paper, Fred," Nancy said, in a chipper tone that she knew would annoy him. She agreed with him, to a point; she never would have been hired at the Hawkins Post if she'd gone to night school instead of IU. At the same time, she'd heard the other guys say that she'd only gotten the job out of pity. Fred wasn't one of them, but she was running on three hours of sleep an half a bagel, so she didn't feel like being nice. "Why would Holloway care about college? Byers has something he wants and he's willing to pay for it."

Medium

Tomorrow May Not Be Your Day (pre-S4 Jancy breakup, probably no Vecna, eventual Jargyle)

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Mom says. She smiles at him anxiously, and he knows what he should do. He should mumble agreement, accept this bit of comfort. Pay her back with white lies of his own: that the distance isn't really a problem, that she didn't kind of screw him over by moving them all across the country. That there's no reason to worry about him, because he's going to figure things out with Nancy and somehow make Emerson happen. "Yeah?" he asks instead. "What if I don't? What if this is it?" It doesn't come out as a plea for reassurance, either. That would be humiliating, maybe even futile, but at least everyone would understand what he was doing. Instead, it comes out as a challenge.

Let the Broken Hearts Stand (companion to above, Nancy's first year at college, eventual Nancy/Carol)

"Look, I was friends with Steve for, like, ten years before he ditched me and Tommy," Carol says, taking a drag off her cigarette, "but he was definitely the bigger asshole in your relationship." Nancy laughs, startled. Carol grins uncertainly, then offers her the cigarette. She accepts. "Like, whatever, you're a totally embarrassing drunk, and you didn't have the balls to dump him until you were sure you had Byers eating out of your pussy, but--" "Jesus Christ, Carol," Nancy said, turning bright red, but Carol waved her off. "Fine. Va-gi-na. Lady garden. Cavern of feminine wonders. Whatever Emily Post says to call it." Carol cackled as Nancy struggled to look disapproving. "My point is, he was also a fucking prick."

How Will You Make It on Your Own? (Stonathan no UD college AU, the context is Jonathan and Samantha have broken up):

Because all the theater freaks were shunning him, Jonathan sat with Barb and Nancy at lunch. "You'll get back together," Barb said glumly. It was unclear whether she was trying to reassure him but was too stressed out about Mathletes to manage a cheerful tone, or if she was predicting an outcome she disapproved of. "You'll ignore her, she'll call and sort of say sorry, and, because she apologized first, you'll fall all over yourself saying that it's all your fault, and that she's right that you should both move to New York City and live in a condemned building and wear garbage bags instead of clothes." Well. That answered his question. "I don't think that's going to happen," he said, contemplating the peanut butter cracker he'd spent the last half hour eating. "It feels different this time."

Oh, I'm Bound to Go (companion to Drive All Night)

Will wasn't sure who figured it out first, him or Mom. When the money first started coming in--so much money, enough for Mom's medicine and Will's new shoes and more food than he could ever remember having--he asked why they couldn't just live with Jonathan in the city. Surely Indianapolis had enough piecework and odd jobs for the two of them. "He's living in a boarding house, sweetheart," she said, keeping her eyes on the chicken she was cleaning instead of his face. "There's no room for us." Maybe she'd known it was a lie all along. But Will understood Jonathan better than anyone, knew how his lies looked and sounded. On paper, he couldn't hear the too-bright home or watch him disappear behind his eyes, but the wrongness came through all the same.

Short

I Know It Breaks Your Heart (Tommy-centric, mostly future fic)

Tommy didn't need anyone to think that he was smart except for Carol, who understood without explanation that he didn't have to act like a nerd or a circus freak to prove that he was clever. It just felt shitty, sometimes, that Steve clearly thought of him as a dumbass. Steve, who had no bullshit meter and maintained a B-minus average with more effort than he liked to admit. It was annoying, but, more than that, it struck Tommy as greedy. Steve was taller, more handsome, more impressive on the court and field. He put people at ease. He could've let Tommy have something.

Raised on Promises (El's life in California, gen)

No matter what Joyce says, and no matter how nice Will and Jonathan are about it, El still feels embarrassed by the toys. Jonathan doesn't play with anything, except sometimes for the hacky sack Argyle gave him; he just listens to tapes and smokes. And maybe that's because he's almost grown up, but Will is her age and he gave away all his D&D stuff to Erica before they moved. He does art now, which isn't playing. Grown-ups do art, too, sometimes even as a job. The girls at school don't play with toys, either. They have fun like she and Max did last summer: dressing up and messing around with makeup and hanging out at the mall. Only the girls here aren't as nice, and Max isn't here to show her how to act her age. So she finds herself building little towns out of blocks and shuffling around a bunch of plastic dolls.

The P is for Perfection (and You Know That We Are Freaks) (Joyce doesn't move the family to California and El becomes a cheerleader)

"I heard she was raised in a cult," Amanda whispered to Chrissy, as the freshman girls lined up. "Chief Hopper knocked up some hippie and only found out when she died a couple years ago. And then he left her with Joyce Byers when he died. Not really an improvement, if you ask me." "Shush," Chrissy said. She was already getting a headache and the yelling hadn't even started. "You don't want the other girls to hear." Amanda muttered that it was common knowledge, but Chrissy tuned her out and studied Jane Hopper. She was on the tall side, with a lean and strong-looking frame. No flyer, but she could be a backspot or a base. She had curly brown hair pulled back in a scrunchy and a pretty, guileless face. She was dressed okay, in a baggy light purple sweatshirt and white leggings, but there was an air of offness about her.

#fic

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