#i promise i'm trying my best with it but i'm literally swamped all the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charlesxavirs · 6 years ago

Note

Do you think we could get a sneak peek of that Reddie AU you're writing 👀👀👀

this has been sitting in my ask box for the best part of a week and honestly this is the first time i’ve been able to get to my laptop. i know i promised this au at the end of last month but college has literally been eating me alive so far so i’m hoping that i should be able to get it finished for the end of this month, fingers crossed. i’m gonna tag anyone who’s on the taglist in this but if anyone wants to be added or taken off lmk !!

It was a good hours drive from the airport to Galway, and when the taxi finally pulled up at the address Eddie had given the driver, he thought there must have been some confusion. O’Donoghue’s pub was unassuming from the outside, with a simple black and white sign, a large glass window and a heavy door. It was exactly what Eddie was expecting his temporary home to be, yet as soon as he crossed the threshold, his mind started to boggle. As soon as he walked through the doors, Eddie was greeted with the sight of shelves piled with bread, fridges holding bottles of milk, and, heck, even a stand with cleaning products. Eddie had walked into a corner store, he was certain of it.

He exited the shop, and checked the address again. Confirming that this was, indeed, the right place, Eddie glanced again at the name on the building before entering through the door again only to find himself standing, once again, in a shop. The difference this time, however, was that there was a tall woman standing behind the counter, rearranging a stack of chocolate bars.

Cautiously, Eddie approached the small checkout, daintily clearing his throat when the woman didn’t look up.

Eddie felt taken aback by how bright her eyes were in contrast to her jet black hair that was greying elegantly around her face.

“Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack! I was miles away.” The woman chuckled, holding her hand dramatically over her heart. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh softly at her reaction, finding the smile on her face particularly infectious. “Can I help you there at all?”

“Um, yeah, actually.” Eddie replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Am I in the right place? I’m supposed to be renting a room an-”

Eddie couldn’t finish because he was quickly cut of by the woman brightly grinning.

“You must be Eddie!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her jeans before coming out from behind the counter, reaching out to shake his hand. Eddie accepted her open palm, a surprised giggle bubbling from his lips at her enthusiasm.

“I’m Maggie Tozier. My sister runs the pub and I work the shop.”

Eddie was too distracted by her accent to fully register what she was saying, but his brow furrowed as he dropped her hand, the words connecting in his head. “Wait wait wait. The pub?”

Maggie only grinned, taking one of his bags from his hands. “Follow me.”

Eddie trailed behind her towards the back of the shop, and it was clear now what she was talking about. Between a shelf full of biscuits and the wall was a walkway about the width of a door, leading through to a bar, and Eddie instantly felt warm.

Warm yellow lights cast the pub in a heavenly glow, washing over the cracked burgundy leather of the booth seats and the well worn black and white lino on the floors. None of the tables matched each other, and neither did the seats. Barstools and cushioned chairs and even, Eddie noticed, an old church pew surrounded mahogany desks, an old dining table, round coffee tables and a couple of work desks. Despite their mix matched status, Eddie thought each table and chair had a charming sort of quality about them, and it’s not like the customers cared as they laughed and drank and, in the case of one old man in the corner, sang together. Eddie thought the pub was slightly chaotic, much like the woman leading him through it, but he found it oddly endearing all the same.

At the centre of the chaos, though, was the bar. The dark wood of it almost blended completely against the wood panel walls. Well, what Eddie could see of the walls, anyway, as they were covered in Guinness signs upon county flags upon missing dog posters. The whole wall behind the bar was filled head to toe with bottles of every alcohol under the sun, and dotted in between was a few pictures, some black and white and some newer, of patrons and regulars, grinning under the harsh flash of the camera, pints brandished proudly in their hands. The most jarring thing about the bar, the thing that caught Eddie by surprise, left him fuzzy brained and dry at the mouth was the man working behind it.

If Eddie was staring, he must’ve been doing an awful job at hiding it, because Maggie was suddenly talking about him.

“That’s my gobshite of a son behind the bar there.” she explained, pointing at him with her free hand. Eddie made a small noise of acknowledgement, hoping that the topic would be brushed past altogether until Eddie was a little less jet lagged and could at least run a comb through his hair, but Maggie Tozier seemed to be having none of it.

“Richie,” she called, waving him over. “Come here to me.”

The lilt in the woman’s voice was almost enough to distract Eddie from the tall boy moving out from behind the bar and walking over to them.

“Eddie, this is Richie. Richie, don’t be a dick.”

Eddie snorted as he took in the other boy, and up close, he was so much more than Eddie initially thought he was. His eyes looked huge behind the thick frames of his wire rimmed glasses, his nose looked crooked, perhaps from being broken, and his lips could barely stretch over his front teeth, pulling his mouth into a perpetual grin. Freckles peppered his face like paint splatters, and Eddie would bet a lot of money that there were more than a few hiding under the unruly curls that swept over his forehead. To anyone else, Richie looked goofy, but to Eddie, he was nothing short of beautiful.

The same, however, could not be said for his clothes. A worn gaelic football jersey hung to the boy’s frame, obviously a size or two too small. The deep maroon of the Galway colours contrasted extremely with the garish lime green long sleeve shirt he was sporting underneath it. His black jeans were almost a complete fit, coming up a little short on his legs, pocket stuffed with a dish cloth, but they only highlighted the ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ socks he’d pulled up over his ankles. The whole ensemble was completed with a pair of Vans, a totally sensible choice if one of them wasn’t red and the other one black.

Eddie could feel the cool metal of his rings brush against his fingers as Richie grabbed his hand and forcefully shook it, making Eddie’s whole arm move like a wet noodle.

“Pleasure to meet you Eddie. Richie Tozier’s the name and pulling pints is the game.” He winked, and the first thing that hit Eddie was that, unlike his mother, Richie’s accent was undoubtedly american, only few twangs giving away his heritage.

Eddie’s brain told him to be smooth, or to introduce himself politely and then hurry the fuck to bed, but all Eddie could blurt out was: “What the fuck are you wearing?”

There was a pregnant pause, a beat of silence in which Eddie began to blush. He opened his mouth to cover his tracks, but he quickly closed it again when Richie began to cackle, his whole body curving into it as he leant back and both his arms came up to clutch at his stomach.

“Looks like someone knows how to get his chucks!” Richie cajoled, pretending to wipe his tears with the rag in his pocket before shoving it back in, grinning up at Eddie. “C’mon Eds, let’s get you a drink.”

“Oh, I should probably take my bags up.” Eddie tries to excuse himself, giving the duffel bag in his hand a jostle to punctuate the point furter.

“Don’t be daft.” Maggie cut in, and for a moment, Eddie had completely forgotten the woman was still stood there. “I’ll take these up to your room. Richie, get the boy something.”

“But-” Eddie tried to argue, but the woman had already snatched the bag from his hand, now carrying both of them with ease, and disappeared through a door close to the passageway they had just come through, leaving Eddie completely alone with the boy.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Richie grinned brightly at Eddie and grabbed his hand, leading him into the pub. “Follow me, Eds.”

Glad that Richie had turned around away from him, Eddie willed away the blush rising on his cheeks and he shuffled after Richie.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Eddie grumbled as he watched Richie move back behind the bar, not missing a beat as he refilled glasses and joked with the customers. Eddie was content to watch him for a while, basking in his own little bubble. It was abruptly burst, however, by a grinning Richie.

“Like what’cha see Eds?” He grinned, drying a pint glass with the cloth that was tucked into his pocket.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, his cheeks burning at being caught looking. But it’s not like Eddie could help it. “What happened to that drink?”

Richie placed the pint pot rim down on its shelf before holding his arms up in mock surrender. “Yes sir. What can I get ya?”

Eddie pondered this for a moment, dramatically eyeing the bottles of spirits hung snugly in their optics before he planted his elbows on the bar top, leaning forward towards Richie. “Surprise me.”

If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say that Richie’s eyes followed the sweep of his tongue over his bottom lip, but he quickly dismissed the idea as Richie started to bustle once again, moving down to one of the draughts over the other side of the bar before returning, glass in hand and cardboard beer mat between his teeth.

Plucking the mat from between his teeth, Richie slid it over to Eddie before carefully placing the pint down on top of it. Eddie eyed it suspiciously, his brow furrowed and his eyes flicking between the glass and Richie, who was staring at him expectantly.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie finally asked, trying not to turn his nose up at the dark liquid.

“It’s a pint of Guinness.” Richie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to drink it.”

“Do I look like I drink pints?” Eddie quipped, not actually expecting Richie to take it as an invitation to check him out.

It didn’t last long though, as soon enough, Richie was chuckling and pushing the pint closer to Eddie. “Drink. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”

Eddie didn’t even bother to think of a snarky remark, instead looking up at Richie who wiggled his eyebrows at him, before taking a tentative sip, his face contorting as soon as the drink hit his lips.

Ignoring Richie’s raucous laughter, Eddie quickly put down the drink. His eyes immediately went back to Richie but he was preoccupied, eyes trained on Eddie’s upper lip. Eyebrows furrowed, Eddie brought his hand up to the top of his mouth but Richie’s beat him to it, and his breath caught in his throat as Richie wiped away the foam from the stout with the pad of his thumb.

Eddie couldn’t look away as Richie pulled his hand back and wiped his finger on his cloth as casually as ever, gulping as Richie looked back at him. “That stuff is fucking disgusting.”

Richie’s eyes lit up, and Eddie feared for the worst.

“Aye, but that’s how we do things over here, so it is.” Richie drawled, his accent heightened to be a near perfect imitation of his mothers as he started to clean the bar. “We wean the youngens on the porter and begorrah they grow up strong.”

Rolling up his eyes, Eddie picked up his glass again, taking another cautious sip. “That makes sense. Only alcohol could make you dress like that.” He deadpanned, motioning towards the whole of Richie’s frame. “Drunk toddlers and fashionably inept barmen. Oh what a day it’s been.”

Light seemed to beam from the dark haired man’s face as he smiled, and Eddie tried his best not to be blinded as he hid his responding grin in his pint of offending black sludge.

“That’s just a typical day in the auld Emerald Isle, Eds.” Richie grinned, slinging the cloth he used to wipe down the bar over his shoulder. “Welcome to the foine, foine county of Galway.”

After managing to hold down half his pint and after fighting with Richie over the small detail of actually paying for it (Richie insisted it was a welcome gift; Eddie leaned over the bar, pulled him closer by the belt loops and shoved a ten in his pocket) Eddie trundled off to bed, falling asleep to the faint sounds of the bustling pub below him, the thrill of a new place to explore lighting all of his nerve endings on fire.

If his first meeting was anything to go by, Eddie was sure he wouldn’t be disappointed.

TAGS: @stanleydenbroughuris @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @lilgeorgie @richieshawaiianshirts @qwertykevin @white-duvet

#reddie #reddie au #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #niamh writes #this fic will be the death of me i can feel it #i promise i'm trying my best with it but i'm literally swamped all the time #i'll finish it as soon as i can i promise #Anonymous

21 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 2 years ago

Note

Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die.

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes.

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes, Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you.

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay. They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon… I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person…

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something?

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss.

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

4K notes · View notes

furvillaconfessions · 4 years ago

Text

Rotsy here. There seems to be a lot of hurt feelings going around about this, so I'm going to try to tread carefully, but I'm not going to sugar coat anything either. If you make it all the way to the end of this very long post I have some cool stories to tell you.

I'm not going to pick apart what @/post/634692733521559552/ said just yet, but I would like to address some of the replies, because they felt like a kick in the guts after reading the post of a clearly upset person.

I don’t see it as “gate keeping.” also this spirit is known around in many other cultures not just one. better to respect the ones who asked us to cenceor it over not cencoring it at all. now I got no proof but I see so many people say that they where asked to cencor it there for what I’m doing.

If you don't see it as gatekeeping when a native person asks (begs even) someone to stop talking for them, then you're part of the problem. How do you know they aren't part of the cultures these stories are coming from? We don't. All I ask is that you try to understand where this person is coming from before just outright rejecting what they are saying.

You cant say “literally no indigenous person” like youre getting mad at people speaking for all of us and then you speak for all of us lol. If youre truly to the point of wanting to VOMIT from seeing a censored word, i think you need to take a break from this blog and probably the internet. Nobody is treating us like primitive babies. Theyre respecting our culture when we ask them to.

Atilla, you know I love you, but you should respect the culture of op too, and have a talk with them instead of assuming their disgust is simply because of text on a screen. By saying they need to get off of the internet you're not affording them with the space to share their hurt feelings- which could be the only place they have to share those feelings for all we know. It was wrong to say 'literally no one,' but I believe that came from a place of pain and not malice. This person is clearly hurt and feeling like people aren't listening to their feelings on the subject- which is what many of us feel all the time. (Assuming you are also native because you said 'us' and 'our.' Correct me if I'm wrong.) There's a bigger problem here that's been brewing for a while, and I'd like to band with you to work on this instead of fighting with you, so if you want to pm me, please do.

Now some context:

A massive reason why (was it the only reason? I can't say) the word wendigo/windigo/wintiko/whetiko started getting censored is because individuals on twitter were making posts about how the wendigo is greatly misunderstood and misrepresented (even appropriated) in white dominated culture. These individuals were tired of being harassed by people who refused to give their culture respect (or blatantly insulting them) so they started censoring the word in order to prevent their posts from appearing in the search. The same thing happened on tumblr. A lot of native people are bullied and harassed into silence when we try to speak up about things so we use code words and censoring to stay safe on the internet. This is the reason why we started censoring conversations around the entity- and also the big reason why I abandoned my original tumblr.

The wendigo is complicated. It is not a demon or a boogyman, and it's not part of a religion. Our stories (the choctaw word literally translates to stories, so I don't mean to be disrespectful) are not a religion in the same sense a christian or a muslim has a religion. Religion in the way people are talking about it doesn't exist in native american culture unless, like previously said on this blog, they are christian. It's more complicated than that. Hinduism might be a closer relative in terms of cultural and religious structure, but I'm not hindi so I can't really say for sure. On top of that, various groups have their own interpretation of the entity. Stories of the wendigo are like your grandmother's christmas dressing recipe. Everyone's family has one and they all guard it zealously. Even within the same nations, it can be regarded as a spirit that possesses people who become greedy, or simply an allegory for sexual and/or physical assault from white people. It's not a monster in the same way white european culture has come to understand the monster analogy. This misunderstanding itself is appropriation in the most basic definition of cultural appropriation. This is before we even get into the discussion of how it should be depicted. It's not simply a monster or evil spirit or physiological disorder. The wendigo is so much more than that.

I don't pretend to understand any of the algonquin languages, so the translation is both literally and figuratively lost on me, but this is the best way I can explain it from a dear canadian friend: The creature is greed. Be that just greed or lust or hunger or colonialism, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't even have to be a creature for someone to be consumed by it. Even just what it represents is dangerous and goes against the very nature of our virtues all across the nations.

I posted a very long post here once before, but I can't find it in the search so I don't know if it even exists any more. Basically what I had said in that post is that this whole situation, on all sides, is causing more damage than good. The longer we keep winding in long circles around this topic, and the more people try to sink their teeth in to control the narrative, the more power the wendigo has over us all- literally or metaphorically is up to you. Don't yell at people when they are upset, don't harass people who use the word as a screen name, don't try to speak for everyone, and most importantly, don't disregard an native person's feelings on the subject, even if you disagree with them. We all have to vent, and some people are getting to their breaking point.

If you find someone misrepresenting or appropriating any part of your culture, the best thing to do is to talk to them about it. I know they don't exactly afford us with the same respect, but clearly yelling at people and harassing them is just making them dig in their heels.

If you made it this far, thanks for listening. Here's the cool stories I promised:

As a choctaw person, I have a proposition for people who genuinely like the deer-man monster concept. There's a creature in choctaw stories called kashehotapolo. It's a contraction (sort of) between kashesho (pronounced kah-she-sho) meaning woman, and tapalo (pronounced tah-pah-lo) meaning scream. Together it's pronounced like kah-she-ho-ta-pah-lo. These are deer-human hybrid creatures who live in forests and swamps and scream (like a woman) when hunting (I picture it as sounding like a cougar scream). They have been described having deer legs, the body of a man, and either a wrinkled human face or a deer face, sometimes with antlers. Kasheotapolo are more like tricksters who like to stalk people just for the fun of it, and go out of their way to be creepy. Sometimes they are straight up violent and want to eat people, but most of the time they just like to creep people out. Another one is the deer-legged lady. In choctaw culture it's called the issikashesho (is-see-kah-she-sho) or just deer-legged lady/woman. The cherokee call them anukite (ah-noo-ki-tee; which I think means something like two-faced). These are shapeshifters who turn into beautiful women, old women, deer, deer-legged women, and anthro deer women. They hate rapists and cheaters, and will stomp rapists to death with their deer hooves. There's even a story that adults used to tell their boys at powwow's, that if they saw a drunk girl, don't take her off in the woods to take advantage of her because she could be a deer-legged lady and might stomp you to death. In more recent stories, there are deer-legged people, because women and non-binary people can rape and be raped too. Badass, huh? My proposition is to research these two creatures and start using them for your characters, stories, and usernames instead. They aren't as sacred to us as the wendigo is to the algonquin people, and they are exactly what people misrepresent the wendigo as looking like. I just think it's time to put this beast to rest.

I love you all. Be excellent to each other.

#okay last one on this #submission

21 notes · View notes

haloburns · 2 years ago

Text

let's share some wips!

i have a lot of writing that is underwraps for spoiler reasons or i'm just not ready to share it yet, but i'm going to break down the list of all my danny phantom wips, both for the au and not! under the cut because it's. really. long.

send me an ask with the number/name of a work and i'll share some stuff about it if i can/have stuff!

for "the world is having more fun than me (tonight)"

invisobang!! - it's next babes! i'm so excited for this one, holy shit. it's already 70k+ and i'm not done

double shot of summer phun fic! - post sin francisco, the specter squad goes to the beach to just hang out and have fun (no progress, just the idea. was it a bad idea to enter another phandom event when i'm swamped with one already? probably!)

heaven's grief brings hell's reign - immediately post invisobang, the fallout and consequences of that fic. one shot, mostly completed. probably gonna end up being rated M/E based on the way it started going last time i worked on it

by all means, i'm getting mad (but that don't mean i don't feel sorry for you) - also post invisobang, dealing with some of the consequences of that. this one is going to be fun

date fic - danny and mateo go on their first real date to the pier where the squad kinda solidified as a friend group. very cute, very sweet, i'm so fucking excited to get to this one.

sin francisco!! - man i so wanted to finish this in june, but trying to get out these last four works before invisobang took up all of my time. so i'll get to it when it's over! it's gonna be so good. funny, angsty, a little bit hot. plus a visit from the charmed ones, which i'm always partial to

with every sin i still wanna be holy - dan goes to therapy. that's the gist of the fic, basically. dan realizes that he wants to be better, do better, make amends all of that. but he's still a little bastard at heart

the weight of living - dan joins danny at college (junior year)! literally no one wanted this! but clockwork decided it was for the best for his rehabilitation and danny can't say no (although he tried). shenanigans ensue.

an unplanned number of junior and senior year antics - exactly what it sounds like. i haven't gotten that far, yet. maybe i'll use the next fic phight for it...

anything you say can and will be held against you (so only say my name) - a very smutty piece that's purely self-indulgent. it's already mostly written. i just need to finish it and figure out where in the timeline i want it.

so shall it be - the beginning of the end... emrys accidentally makes a wish to help his friends as things begin to fall apart

once more with feeling - the result of emrys' wish: a musical episode fic! things keep going down hill for our heroes, and nothing is resolved nicely by curtain fall

where do we go from here? - the fallout. heartbreaking. still makes me sob a little, all 800 words of it. these three fics came from a fucking joke in one of the servers i'm in and it's fucking angsty and i... it hurts my heart, babes. it really does.

hey there, shadow - an angsty, smutty fic with slight dub/con themes. it's uh. it's a fic, that's for sure. and i'm so excited to get to this point, fuck

my wish for you - danny makes an ill-advised wish to try and make a mistake better. it doesn't work as planned, and things get worse.

kneel to the crown - :risedanno: this is the culmination of everything. it's a romcom style fic, with its angsty, rated-E bits, and it's gonna be a bigun. like probably bigger than my invisobang when all's said and done. it's gonna be great.

ghost king danny welcomes mom home - exactly what's on the tin. i started this with phic phight but realized it needed more attention than i could give it during phight to pull off the style i wanted

you better promise me i'll be back in time - a phic phight relic! started for phight, but not finished yet because i needed time to plot out how it worked and how it fit into the au. but back to the future au with vlad redemption arc. very excited for this

another date fic (apparently) - this one is more of a series of oneshots of small dates. the arcade, the bookstore (ooh, danny taking mateo the bookshop tony took him to just to make out with him in the back... new idea), skateboard date (because at SOME FUCKING POINT i'm going to work in that danny knows how to fucking skateboard. eventually. or maybe i should just bite the dust and make it a hoverboard date), going bowling or skating, seeeing a movie outdoors (double feature with the last starfighter and space balls), and then going to the planetarium.

christmas fic! - that's it. that's as far as i got.

friend dates with the specter squad - supposed to be for valentine's day, but i fucking suck at making shit on time. mimic fic to "such a big big world (and only the tools to deal with a tiny portion of it)" where danny goes out with each of his friends to do a thing with them. supposed to take place early in the series before danny and mateo get together so their "friend" date mimics a romantic date.

the haunt - sam opens that underage club she mentioned early in the au. no i haven't forgotten, i just haven't had time 😭

not for the au!

and they were history project partners UFS version - literally exactly what it says. there were UFS hints here and there, but i wanted to change it and seaprate it from the au and make it its own fic with a UFS ending (thanks red 💖)

danny grave fic or j13 origin fic - sent this in an ask to floral during phic phight i think. based on the song "johnny" by american murder song

danny stripper identity reveal gray ghost - right there on the tin babes. this was a server idea, and i want to write it so bad. i love gray ghost so much, after phic phight i wanted to write more of them anyway

dp as told like syfy's alice - okay this one is a fucking doozy. it's based on a post by dreamwraith, actually, about the fallout from reign storm and the weird ambiguity of who was supposed to be king after. i have the character list written out. it's either everlasting trio or pitch pearl, but i think i'm leaning in the pitch pearl direction...

a forced reveal fic that floral and i batted around in my early days in the fandom - paulina brings blood blossoms to class and danny's reaction causes him to reveal himself. it's got a great start, i just didn't have the energy to continue it in the midst of the au work i'd been doing

perfect - an angsty fic based on the song perfect by simple plan. i have a fic already titled after this song, but i want a truly angsty one where danny's reveal to his parents doesn't go so well...

pitch pearl tuck everlasting au - ALSO sent this to floral during phic phight and FUCK am i so excited to work on it. dark ages raised immortal phantom, plucky and naive danny, a tragic lovestory... i need invisobang to be over so i can work on this NOW

primeval crossover - british tv show from the same era as DP, deals with anomalies in time that bring them dinosaurs. the anomalies are actually portals in this au and the villain from primeval is the big bad danny was chasing that landed him and team phantom in london surrounded by men in black pointing guns at them. probably gonna be everlasting trio.

TUE but it happens bc danny says fuck - mostly crack but kinda wanna write it...

ghost light stripper au - danny is a stripper in this one and the specter squad takes mateo out for his birthday

in the shadow of your heart - my ghost light atlantis au 💖 it's already started and been posted, but i had to stop working on it for invisobang. i can't wait to get to work on it again

0 notes