#itss been weeks rip

[dandelion-roots]

to keep it consistent here's the fic link

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[ID: a sketchy digital comic depicting sklonda and pok from fantasy high. in the first panel, pok is looking at sklonda, amazed, as they're holding onto each other and says, you saved my life. thank you. in the second panel sklonda looks surprised and a fire is raging behind her. in the third, she starts blushing too and says, you've already returned the favour. they're both covered in blood. End ID]

[definegodliness]

Henk

Let me tell you about Henk. 

Henk was an accident, a child born a decade after his brothers and sisters. He had this birth defect that slurred his speech, and impeded his movements, making it seem like he was drunk 24/7. This deviation caused Henk’s religiously zealot of a father to never recognize him as a child of his own, but rather as a child of the devil. He divorced his wife over that sentiment when Henk was a boy. And that wife, Henk’s mother; the only person to ever love him, died shortly after. Resulting in him being outcast — no, downright hated — by his brothers and sisters.

Henk grew up to have one friend, my father. They had a lifelong relationship, that, after due consideration, I would not call a pity-friendship. Dad pitied him, make no mistake; there was too much to be pitied, but he treated Henk as human. A friend, at that. 

They met at a youth center my dad ran, called The Monastery — ironically so, but we’ll get to that — and dad got Henk involved in managing things. I guess those were the heydays. Late teens, early twenties.

Henk made other ‘friends’ after that. He was trusting in the good of man. So when he went vacationing, he gave his peers his house-key, asking if they’d feed the dog for a couple of weeks. And when he returned his house was emptied, and the dog was dead.

That was Henk.

Such was the life of Henk.

A social man, banned from society for his slurred speech and impeded movements. Never seen as an equal, but as a disease. And I cannot stress enough how I am not an exception. Picking up the landline, hearing:

“Hel-lo... itss... HENK...”

Rolling my eyes, calling for dad.

One time my sister turned pale as a sheet, running, shouting:

“Dad! Dad! Henk’s drunk chlorine!”

And I rolled my eyes again, a heartless-bastard child. But, in my defence, you have to see I was completely oblivious of suicides at the time, let alone the concept of death. Some people never get to a point of understanding. I have. Hence the guilt. Hence this eulogy of Henk. 

Henk was a man who’d habitually get punished for minding his own business by the conscientious part of humanity. Imagine that. More definingly, he was someone who, by the callous rest, got treated like a big steaming pile of shit. Flies always circled around him to take advantage. Henk attracted human evil, and spent his life searching for proof that he, too, could fit. 

That’s why he always tried.

Then, the benefit of doubt kept killing him.

Henk once gave a big goodbye party. My dad didn’t attend. Afterwards he took some sleeping pills and put a plastic bag over his head, sealing it at his neck with a tie rip. But the sleeping pills didn’t kick in soon enough, and he panicked; tearing the plastic off his face. Henk collapsed and woke up to his place, trashed, because he would have been dead, and people didn’t hesitate to violently celebrate this predicament.

He called dad, afterwards, and dad made me part of the cleanup crew. We drove there on a Sunday. They were making small talk, and were reminiscing The Monastery. Just talking, while teenage-me was put to work; dustpan and brushing the perimeter. Everything was shattered. 

I muttered:

“What a bunch of bastards.”

“I— ... wass G-GOING to-die”, Henk said, apologetically. As if his death was a freebee for all this dumbass destruction. 

“... but you chickened out, didn’t you?”, dad chuckled. And the two of them burst out in a laughter I will never understand. 

“I did, I... DID.”

Henk took to medicine, after that. Which at first didn’t really help him, mentally, but did cause him to shed his literal skin. He got blisters all over his body, and when they peeled, he was smooth as a baby’s butt. 

Henk once, or twice, drove his 60 km/h limited disabled carriage over the highway to meet up with dad. I am only now realizing he wasn’t an idiot, dad was just that important to him. 

He had enough of life after he turned sixty. He wanted to — no, yearned — to go back to his mom. He asked for euthanasia, but, even though it is legal in my country, his GP wouldn’t touch that possibility with a ten-foot pole. Henk was part of the bible belt, you see. 

By that doctor, word got to town. And Henk was flooded with letters from neighbours and other townsmen, who never gave him the light of day, but now wanted to assure his descension to hell by quoting biblical name-colon-numbers. 

No, they did not want to convince him into heaven. They wanted him to be sure to burn for eternity. Henk answered them all, individually:

“I only want to be with mother.”

An answer, unaccepted.

Henk deteriorated further. In slurred speech and impeded movements. He entreated his death-wish to the specialist treating him. That man turned out the key to his freedom. 

He said:

“Henk, we’ve been treating you for seizures for fifteen years. And if you stop taking this particular medicine, it will all be over real quick. Just make sure you’re not in pain.”

Henk calls my dad to take care of his finances. Shares his after-death wish. Then, signs up for a wind-down unit. It’s a nice mansion among nature. Dad visits him the first day after he refrained from taking his medicine. They talk about fucking the system by overdrawing Henk’s bank balance, as they did — goddamn hippies — Second day, Henk’s already pumped full of morphine, and, ultimately, dead.

Years and years of fighting for euthanasia, and all it took was one doctor who said: “Stop taking your meds.”

“Stop fighting God”, for the more religiously inclined. But those were the ones who would’ve kept Henk from his mother’s arms. Those, who dream of death, but fear the choice of death.

Henk was cremated. 

Dad took his ashes to the river banks, where Henk used to play as a kid; before his dad left his mom, and before he was outcasted by his kin. There was a small window of childhood, and innocence; gullible years that kept Henk living for, say, a good sixty years. 

Three months later, we saw that exact spot had sprouted an oak tree. And we left feeling hope for Henk. One year later the municipality had razed and leveled the river banks, and none of us could decide where he could be.

That was Henk.

[fenheart87]

Something Shiny

I was at work, bit my tongue and this happened? I blame all the LBSC members, we've talked about Luka having the tongue piercing before but here's Marinette with it and Luka unable to cope.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you should sleep on it.”

“I already have and I’m sure.”

“Look I know you want to change your image a bit but this is totally different than clothes and I just-”

“Rose breathe.” Juleka chimed in, sharing an amused look with Marinette. The way her girlfriend was acting was as if she was getting her tongue pierced instead of Marinette.

“I promise this is what I want.” The designer reassured the nervous girl, while she had been experimenting with the clothes and her hair a bit, this was something no one was expecting her to do. To be fair, Marinette couldn’t believe she was about to let Juleka shove a needle through her tongue for her to always have it pierced. The timing had just seemed right and her parents had been hinting at her expressing herself and feeling more comfortable with who she was becoming for a while now and didn’t bat an eye when she word vomited her idea. Now all the girls were free during the break which was the perfect time to allow it to heal before school was back in session.

“One question.”

“Shoot.”

“This is for you right?”

“Definitely for me.”

“One condition then.”

“What Jules?” The shorter girl was wary of the glint in those amber eyes.

“I want to be there when you talk to Luka for the first time.”

“Deal?” She agreed confused, sticking her tongue out when prompted and letting Juleka secure the clamp and mark the spot. No turning back now.

The swelling was bad the first few days, it didn’t help that her clumsy nature caused her to accidentally bite her healing appendage. Salt was okay but too much was bad, pepper was even worse and she had gained a deeper appreciation of ice cream and popsicles. The girls had planned an outing today and since it was closest to the boathouse, they would meet over there to pick up Juleka beforehand. The only ones who knew of her new jewelry so far could still be counted on one hand. Juleka and Rose who were there, her parents because she had discussed it with them first and Tikki who was also technically there for the whole thing too.

“Tithee,” oh god her nerves were making it harder to talk, “I tant do tisss.”

“Marinette I know you’re nervous but just breathe! Everyone is bound to find out eventually anyway, it looks great! The ladybug topper really makes it miraculous!” The kwami grinned at the giggle from her chosen.

“Otay, I can do tiss.” Grabbing her purse and phone, she left with a goodbye to her parents and popsicle in hand. Surprisingly she was one of the first to arrive, Alix beating her by a few minutes.

“Hey Marinette.”

“Hey Alickss.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I uh-”

“Hey Marinette! Is your tongue still swollen?”

“Yeah jusst a bit.” Deciding to rip the bandage off so to speak, the designer stuck out her tongue to show off the piercing.

“Whoa dude! Sick!” Alix leaned in with interest, firing away questions. “When did you get it done? Who did it? Did it hurt a lot? Oh cool, is that a ladybug topper?”

“Juleka did it for her last week, she didn’t even flinch! Isn’t the ladybug topper so cute? A ladybug for our everyday ladybug!” Rose smiled, clapping her hands in happiness.

“Yeah itss noth too pad.”

“Okay this is kind of hilarious but are you sure you’re okay to talk? Don’t ruin my hard work.” Juleka appeared from down below, nodding in greeting and moving to check out the piercing. “Looks good.”

“Popsisscle.” Marinette held up her popsicle to accent her statement.

“Hey girls! Oh wow, did we take that long? Marinette never beats me!” Alya teased, checking the time on her phone.

“Early start.” To keep from talking, she squeezed the next chunk of her treat to the top and let it melt in her mouth. The coolness of the flavored ice did wonders and helped the swelling, even if it made the bar very cold and feel weird.

“Oh wow, you weren’t kidding when you said all the girls were coming over.” Luka joked, waving as he grabbed his helmet and slid his guitar on his back.

“Wuka!” Oh no. “Whatss thup?” Not now oh god why now?!

“Hey Marinette, just getting ready for work. I swapped with a co-worker to get saturday off so I have a three day weekend. You okay?”

“Yess, never bethur. See?” In a panic she stuck her tongue out, not seeing that Juleka was recording or the confusion of the Girl Squad. “Itss new, do yoo wike it?”

“I uh well sure. It’s great really really great. Uh, ladybug topper?”

“Mhm!”

“Cool, so looks like it’s new and you’re still healing so be careful. No making out until it's healed.”

“WHAT?!” She screeched, causing a handful of eyes to be as wide as dinner plates.

“With me! I mean anyone! Just be careful until it’s healed!” It wasn’t often Luka was flustered enough to blush but boy did he look cute. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore and just dash around everyone to leave for work, nearly falling at the end of the walk.

“Oh god, I knew this would be priceless but that was so much better!” Juleka was cackling, still recording Marinette as her brain caught up and her face lit on fire too.

“He wantss to makeow wif me?!”

“Totally but you have to wait at least six weeks.”

“Thatss too wong!”

Juleka was so getting copies of this video made, she could not pass up blackmail material this good. She would of course make sure to edit out all the yelling from the rest of the girls at the end because no one wanted to hear banshees.

[writinglionqueen]

The Queen’s Rules FAQ regarding requests:

So I’ve had a few requests in the past and I need to make this now so itss here and on my blog (and I’m not looking through my dash for the next 12 hrs) :

Do you take requests? Yes and no. You can tell me what you’d like but there is no guarantee that I can deliver in a timely fashion. I also have to be motivated by your idea in order to actually work on it. If I’m not inspired or intrigued or have ideas for a fic, it won’t be as enjoyable to read or to write. If I’m not thrilled with it or if I get bored of it...I abandon it (RIP to the 25 drafts I have saved at this point that are fic ideas). If you are alright with waiting until the inspiration for your idea arrives, that’s most helpful to me. If it’s something I already have a draft for/writing about, I will let you know. Just know I am trying to be more productive about writing things people send me requests for...but I can’t promise them because I have a job and school on the side. So, all-in-all, if you have an idea you’d like me to think about/write, shoot it my way. I will be honest if I can get to it or not. 

Can you write about X? I only write for wrestlers I’m interested in; Finn, Drew, Aleister, Dean, Roman, and Seth have been a few I’ve done so far. I do not know anyone on AEW, NXT, 205 Live circuits so please do not ask for those wrestlers! Seriously. The reason why is because I try to delve into the personalities of the wrestlers I see on TV and I think about them critically as I write. I want their character to shine through in my writing as well. (That and I only watch RAW and SmackDown but I’m trying to watch NXT a bit more). I DO want to try and do some female wrestlers but I’ve never had a bunch of real ideas for them yet. (I already know a few female wrestlers I DO NOT want to write about, but I’ll be nice is you ask if I will write about them or not). 

Will you write the reader a specific way for me? To put it as nicely as I can: no. I ONLY do reader inserts with very little body descriptions for a reason. That way, everyone can be the reader and experience the fic the same way (I’m still trying to be a bit more mindful about gender in them as well but...most of my audience is female orientated anyway). I hate thinking about OCs and making sure I maintain a certain eye color or skin color or whatever. Reader inserts are easier for me to not think about the readers appearance and focus on the story more. Don’t ask me to do a specific character or from the perspective of a certain character. I won’t do it. And, no, I will not do your OCs for this reason.

Can you do this pairing for me? Again, like the last one, I’m not one for trying to make sure I have characters and character descriptions. Mainly because I want readers to be the main character of my fics and enjoy them. So I will not write from the perspective of so-and-so trying to woo so-and-so. (I also have to like the pairing but that’s a different matter)

Will you write this uber specific situation? Again, like the above answers...I have to be motivated by your idea or request to even consider writing about it. It doesn’t take much to get me into some ideas...but others...it is hard to be like OH THIS IDEA ROCKS! I ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT IT. So.....depends.

Please do not be intimidated by my answers to ask me your request. Please do so. I like having a hoard of ideas so I can think about them when I get bored. Like I said, there’s no guarantee that they will be out in a timely manner (probs within 1-2 weeks is timely) due to my responsibilities away from my computer. Ideas are great so shoot they my way. I will be honest if I will not be motivated to write about the idea you gave me or not. If you are curious if I will write about a particular wrestler, just ask. There’s no harm in asking me. The worst I can say is no or not currently. 

~Bri