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desencante · 4 years ago

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oi, march reads! I read a lot this month.

Please, don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos for the authors of these fics!

(The texts aren't the summary, just my ramble thoughts.)

Loving Cannibalism by glittering_git/@glittering-git (Mature, 2 works, 952 words) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship

Two marvellous and poetic histories about (loving) cannibalism. This is such a dark and heavy theme but the author does a great job writing and makes me enjoy reading them. (And I'm definitely here for more.)

(Please, read the Author's Tags.)

don’t say you love me, that’s extortion by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Explicit, 1k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship

It is a domestic and loving and little sad history – about not saying 'I love you' but acting in that way.

The Pink Paradox by vina_writes/@dracothecupcake (Teen and Up, 1k) | Post-War, Humor, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Harry Potter Is Obsessed With Draco Malfoy TM. And Draco has pink hair. Have a fun time!

Harry's Promise by JosephineStone (Teen and Up, 2k) | Post-War, Angst, Reunion, Established Relationship

This one it's kind of part two of Circumpolar. The history continues the consequences of Draco's change, after the war – left me with a warm heart.

Burnt Casserole by Samunderthelights/@samunderthelights (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Fluff, Established Relationship

Nervous Draco for Meeting Ron and Hermione. Getting back together and meeting your boyfriend's friends (who may hate you) showing them your (not) great cooking abilities.

Magical Homes, and Where to Find Them (in the arms of your lover) by Erebeus/@erebeus-roxy (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Who doesn't want some fluff established relationship sometimes? Harry has a painful case at work and then comes home to a calm and domestic night with his husband.

Together Like This by shealwaysreads/@shealwaysreads (Explicit, 3k) | Post-War, Getting Back Together

Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World TM. I find it so interesting reading stories where Draco denies Harry's love because of the war, and Harry is there to change his mind. Here we have that and it's written the super talented shealwaysreads.

For Old Times' Sake by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Teen and Up, 3k) | Post-War, Drugs, Potioneer Draco, Artist Harry

This one gives me such a cosy and domestic vibe. "'It's Complicated' is their relationship status" resume perfect what this fic is. (There're some cool references too, so pay attention.)

Like Gold by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Explicit, 4k) | Post-War, PWP

(It's always good to see.) Harry Has a Motorbike Just Like Sirius! Harry rides a motorbike and Draco rides him.

Harry and Draco's Little Talk by Ladderofyears (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship, mpreg

Who doesn't hear 'I need to talk to you' by someone you like and run with? Harry thinks Draco will break up with him and freak (a little) out but maybe the subject of Draco's conversation is quite the opposite.

Sugar Sweet by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Humor, Fluff, Auror Harry, Healer Draco

It is a very sweet story with a surprise party for Draco and Harry getting late but not so late.

Show them the night that they dreamed about before by fluxweed/@fluxweeed (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, PWP, Threesome, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dubious Consent

(Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Percy Weasley)

All I have to say is: 😳😯🤫😈🔥🥵🔥🥵😈😏!

This Is How by bixgirl1/@bixgirl1 (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, a/b/o

Omega Draco has an incident in the ministry Alpha Harry is there to help. After they fall in love! (One more reason to read: it's written by bixgirl1!)

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille/@elsalapizza (Teen and Up, 6k) | Post-War, Angst, Humor, Established Relationship

OMG, I never read something like this! The plot was so surprising – you will ever think about the Malfoys meeting the Dursleys? BOOM! Here it's a very awkward dinner that looks funny but has some depth stuff going on.

Litany by thistle_verse/@thistle-verse (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Angst, Pandemic, Isolation, Touch-Starved, Ghost Draco

Ghost's story isn't my cup of tea, but I give this one a chance and don't regret it. The magic world is passing through a pandemic (just like us!), Harry is doing quarantine at home alone until ghost Draco, directly from Azkaban, shows up. Then, we have fluffy and sad conversations between the two and a turn of events in the end. (And lots of lists.)

As the Crow Flies by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Animagus Draco, Werewolf Harry

Draco helps Harry on a full moon night. Domestic vibes with some angst. 10/10!

Circumpolar by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Teen and Up, 8k) | Hogwarts Era, Angst, Sectumsempra Scars

I see an amazing fanart and spend some days obsessed with Draco having worse scars from Sectumsempra. (There's, in this list, another two fanfics with this concept.) In this one, because of the pretty bad scars Draco's plan about the war change – is interesting to imagine how one incident could put another thing in perspective for him. And Draco and Harry have a touching conversation on the Astronomy Tower! (I'm a sucker for long expressive conversations about feelings.)

if somebody’s there, then tell me who. by kryptidfox/@kryptidfoxwrites (Explicit, 11k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Housemates

Much more like Idiots to Lovers! Draco has a disastrous way to make Harry notice him – bring every man possible to a one-night stand then call their name very loud – until things go wrong when he brings a guy named Harry. I constantly have a good time reading these two making dumb thing in their path to be together.

Commander by Cassiopeias_shadow/@cassiopeiasshadow (Explicit, 14k) | Post-War, Horror, Suspense, Drugs, Animagi, Auror Harry, Light dom/sub

Almost a case fic with dark things in the plot. Draco is addicted to potions and in a pretty bad place when he has a chance to help the auros in a big case. It turns out that Draco got so much involved with the case he needed Harry, to make him put his feet on the ground – the fine line between doing everything to make up for your past or lost yourself doing things for the great good. Featuring: Harry as a snake and parselmouth kink.

(Please, read the Author's tags.)

Fire and Wonder by Lomonaaeren (Mature, 15k) | Post-War, Dark-ish, Veela

Lomonaaeren written dark Harry, I'm here for! After the war, Harry get wing and has some controversial ideas about The Great Good. So, we see him put these ideas into practice with his mate Draco.

Hold what's dear in your hands (and never let go) by Fae_vorite/@faevorite-main-blog, PollyWeasley/@polly-weasley (Explicit, 16k) | Post-War, Arrange Marriage, a/b/o, mpreg

I was always here for some a/b/o and this story is a chef kiss! Harry can't find a partner; So he goes to an upgrade tinder and matches with Draco, then they live happily ever after. Featuring intersex Draco and a lot of sex kinks.

Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by aviforsrose (Explicit, 23k) | Post-War, Angst, Friends with Benefits, Light dom/sub

Idiots in love! The old same GOOD story: I love him but he loves me? Yes, of course! Man, you two have been pinning each other for years now. Let's do some love confessions.

The Critiquer by dysonrules (Explicit, 24k) | Post-War, Humor, Romance, Secret Identity

Drunk Harry doing dumb stuff with Seamus and Dean, take him a very funny drive to Draco's hearty. Draco and his assistant interactions was another very humorous part. Can't forget to congratulate who made all of the edits, principally the text divisors.

The Nobility of Ascent by Lomonaaeren (Explicit, 27k) | Post-War, Angst, Politics

I love reading Lomonaaeren stories with dark-ish Harry. This is another great example of just not the good or evil side. Harry can't Make a Better World because of pureblood politics so he goes to Draco for help.

Can I tell you something? by GallaPlacidia (Not Rated, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sectumsempra Scars, Drugs, Auror Harry, Burlesquedance Draco

What I can say about this one? It's by GallaPlacidia, go read! The story takes place during a few years, after the war, Harry collides in parties with a drugged Draco, things happen – they lived a very real journey of connecting with someone, learning to love and to be loved and understanding the mistakes of the past... 10/10!

Says The Magpie To The Morning (Sorrow, Take Your Own Advice) by Femme/@femmequixotic (Explicit, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Getting Back Together

Draco Horrible Sad TM after a breakup with Harry. Featuring so much PDA by Pansy/Ron, angst, miscommunication, angst, sharing a house with your ex and angst. If you are up to a sad time before a happy ending this nice story is here.

Eight Days (to Save the World) by gnarf/@gnarf (Mature, 47k) | Post-War, Friend to Lovers, Housemates, Case Fic, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Shit happens in The Wizard World again so Harry, Draco and company get together to Save The World Again. What will you do if you receive an order not so right by your superior? A very interesting story begins with the ministry's haunted easy target to blame for the new conspiracy. Enjoy too Protective Harry.

Turning Leaves by Kbrick (Explicit, 112k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Time Travel, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Draco Tries to Concert His Friendship With Harry by Time Travel. This gives me The Cursed Child vibe but so much better, Draco goes to several scenarios trying to change one important moment in the past to make Harry like-like now. A great story who think about what will happen if Draco acts differently in the Hogwarts years.

Cannot Save You Now by tigrelilje (Mature, 132k) | Hogwart Era, Angst, Horror, Dark, Vampire Harry

Harry dies and comes back (as a vampire) for revenge! If you want to see Harry hating almost everybody this fanfic this here. Featuring: Slytherin Harry.

#desencanterec #drarry fic rec #drarry #drarry fanfic #if there's a mistake or some link is broken please let me know #hpdm

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years ago

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Title: hot and sharp (it’s the cold) Ship: Eeez/Timothy Hearst (D.Gray-man) Summary: Eeez always knew he was going to die abandoned, dirty alley. Curse Tyki Mikk for giving him hope, for letting him dream— Hold on, who’s the brat in the fancy uniform? AN: It’s my rare pair and I get to be the only one writing fanfics for it.

It wasn’t that Eeez hated Tyki, far from it, actually. For the most part, Eeez adored the older man and soaked up his attention like sunlight. For all that he spent the least amount of time with Tyki given that he was gone so often and so very long on those secret jobs of his, and Eeez saw Momo and Crack far more often, the fellow Portuguese was Eeez’s favorite. They had a connection that went beyond that of countrymen.

Tyki had been the one to pulled Eeez from the dirt alley, cleaning up his pale cheeks with a nearly equally dirty tissue, a soft smile, and kind words. He helped Eeez remain upright when his coughing ended with blood on his lips and always made sure that he wore enough layers when the winters got bad.

Eeez had clung to Tyki because the man had saved him. Without Tyki’s interference, Eeez would have died in the alley he collapsed in and nobody would have cared about his young age. They wouldn’t have called it a tragedy, merely seen him as trash.

But Tyki thought he had worth.

Even though Eeez contributed nothing to their income and ended up eating quite a large portion of their food in turn, Tyki always treated him with care, cracking jokes to make him smile. The man was too young to be Eeez’s father, but he could be his older brother or uncle. Eeez had neither and the terms mixed and matched in his head well enough, reforming in the shape of Tyki Mikk, running his fingers through his hair, switching cigarette brands until he found one that didn’t bother Eeez’s lungs as much, dropping the habit entirely when his health relapsed.

Tyki, whom he hadn’t seen in months.

Anger bit as hot and sharply into him as the cold outside.

Tyki’s jobs had become more frequent and more exhausting as they could tell by the bags under his eyes, but now he simply hadn’t shown up for months. Were he younger, one of those street kids running around the bigger cities, running errands for those posh and proper nobles, Eeez would have thought that they would never see Tyki again, that he got a little too bold and clever and was now a little too dead to come visit them.

Eeez had seen it too often when he’d been alone on the streets. No gang wanted to take him in, his fingers constantly shaking and numb from anemia to make him a good pickpocket. Those kids that got too smart always ended up dead, paying the price for behaving better than the rabble they were supposed to be.

But Tyki was a proper adult who knew better than to throw away his life. He always told Eeez to be mindful, to cherish the time he had. True enough, Tyki didn’t look like he was particularly well-educated, but once you got him started, he turned out to be quite the philosopher, able to quote more books than Eeez had ever had the chance to touch. Always on the road without a school to attend, the adults had taken it upon themselves to teach Eeez whatever they deemed important. Sometimes that was bartering, how to fix your clothes, what fruit or vegetable to eat, or the language of whatever country they were in.

Tyki never seemed to have a problem with any of them

So he might not be a genius, but Eeez was intelligent.

Therefore, rationally, Eeez was aware that he shouldn’t be too upset with Tyki’s disappearance.

The world had gone crazy recently, monsters appearing everywhere. Despite their many travels, their group had never run into one. Usually, that was also due to Tyki’s guidance. He somehow always managed to bring them to safe lodgings, to take the route where they weren’t attacked by some bandits or police that had about the same attitude.

Traveling without him was more difficult even though they had one mouth less to feed.

And now, the snow still sticking to his bloody knees, that monster looming over him, all Eeez could think of was that this wouldn’t have happened if Tyki were here.

That Eeez would still die in a dark and dirty alley, abandoned by the world.

“Eh?” the monster tilted its head. “Aren’t you a fun little— urgh—!”

One moment, the monster looked like a grotesque skeleton, created from blood-coated machinery, large holes for eyes, a twisted halo framing its head. The next, it was kind of soft, and instead of rusty red, the now whole plating was covered in light blues, yellows, and whites.

“Are you alright?” the monster suddenly asked, voice much lighter than before.

Eeez could only nod, unsure of what to do with this sudden change.

The monster grinned, razor-sharp teeth flashing before it gave him a thumbs up. “Great!”

Then it promptly began attacking the rest of the monsters with much prejudice. Their screams would haunt Eeez for years to come if he still had years to experience. Returning to his senses, Eeez scrambled to his feet and rushed to the nearest house for safety. Taking a quick look around, Eeez realized two things:

1) The house had been abandoned in haste.

2) It was not actually abandoned.

Eeez stared at the small body lying in the corner. It looked like somebody had placed the other kid there – and what a weird kid it was. Bright blue hair and a freaking marble the size of Eeez’s fist in his forehead. Maybe whoever had put him there had been killed by those monsters. Eeez had gotten separated from Crack and Momo when those things had appeared in the sky. He didn’t know if they were still alright, but if they’d been hit by even one of those monsters, there was nothing Eeez could do for them anymore.

The monsters seemed to be mostly chasing through the streets, tearing open the houses. They’d probably already gone through this one. It didn’t make the house very secure, just better than anything else. Eeez probably had more luck if he headed to the nearby forest and hid out there. Glancing at the body once more, Eeez realized that the kid was still breathing if a little strained. He was only a little smaller than Eeez. The safe solution would be to just leave him there, give the monsters something else to entertain themselves with while he made his getaway.

Tyki Mikk had pulled him out of the dark and into the light, lifted him into the air, let him sit on his shoulders, and nearly touch the sky.

Uncharacteristically crude, Eeez let out a string of curses and rushed over to the boy. He struggled to put the body on his back, the boy turning out to be heavier than he looked.

First, he thought he would die because of Tyki, now he was going to die because of some stupid unconscious kid in a fancy jacket that could feed Eeez for a week at least.

God better see this one good deed and deem it enough to repay him handsomely in the afterlife.

Wheezing under the strain, Eeez got to his knees and headed towards the back of the house, the sounds of the battle echoing in his ears.

#d gray man #dgm #tyki mikk #eeez dgm #timothy hearst #timotheez #poker pair #we'll get there anyway #fanfic

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writeyouin · 5 years ago

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Hey there! Your fanfics are incredible! Could you please write a Will Turner X Reader one where the reader goes back in time after watching Pirates of the Caribbean and then the reader and Will fall in love? Thanks a lot in advance! :)

Will Turner X Fem-Reader - Life Inside a Movie

A/N – All better from being ill, so here is a fic.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You leaned over one of Port Royal’s railings, humming a tune that only you knew in this time period. From afar Will Turner watched you, listening to the occasional lyric that you whispered under your breath; the song was just as unusual and out of place as you were.

“Dancing in the moonlight, everything is weird and out of sight,” You sang, staring up at the night sky.

It was something you did every night. Once, shortly after Will had found you and given you a place to stay, he had asked you why you were so obsessed with the sky. You had told him that where you came from you could never see any of the stars because of something called light pollution. He hadn’t understood what that was, even when you tried to explain it, nor did he understand how one place could have less stars than anywhere else, but he did like that the sky brought you peace. He just wished you didn’t insist on going out every night to view them because there were some nights he couldn’t be out to protect you, and even a peaceful place like Port Royal had its fair share of criminals.

“You can join me if you want,” You said, fully aware that Will had been watching you from afar.

When the two of you first met, Will would have found your forward manner and your knowledge that he was there unnerving; now it was starting to rub off on him as one of your many qualities.

“It would me my honour, Miss (L/N).”

“I’ve told you before, where I’m from we always use first names.”

“And I have told you, it is my pleasure to use your beautiful last name and give you the respect you deserve.”

You smiled to yourself, thinking about how different life had been before you had come to this time. How sad it was to think that chivalry eventually died out, and yet how nice it was to be one of the few from your timeline to receive it.

You thought about the film Pirates of the Caribbean which you had watched the night that the mysterious portal opened in your apartment, leading you into the film itself.

When you first arrived, you had fallen right into the forge, spraining your ankle in the process. Fortunately, the Forge’s owner and Will’s master was asleep, so he didn’t notice the portal that had brought you to Port Royal; you had a feeling that if he had seen it, you would have been in the gallows for sorcery.

Shortly thereafter, Will had returned from a delivery and found you. At first when he saw your strange clothes and unusual hairstyle, he had considered reporting you to the royal guard, suspecting you to be a pirate. It was only when you begged him for help that he paused. It soon became clear that you knew nothing about the finer arts of piracy; you couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that would have made for a very poor pirate indeed. All the same, Will still didn’t trust you so he demanded to know your story, otherwise he would have no trouble seeing you imprisoned, for they very rarely hung women unless the offence was as bad as murder.

Knowing Will was an honourable character from the many times you had watched his film, you came up with a story for yourself that sounded fairly reasonable. You told him you were a simple bookkeeper from a foreign land, who had been stolen by pirates along with a great many others. In the tale, you alone escaped on a lifeboat and had made your way to the nearest island. All in all, you didn’t think it was a bad explanation. The bookkeeper was a reasonable job that would explain why you could read and write so well, and if Will asked, you could say you sprained your ankle upon escaping.

With a few more questions, Will soon believed you and he offered to take you to the boarding house where he lived, even paying your rent until you could get a job. You insisted you would pay him back, but Will thought little of it; after all, he was far too concerned trying to figure you out.

To be frank, you scared Will at first. In Port Royal women and even most men didn’t know how to read. Then there was the fact that you were educated in even more fields than the governor himself. You knew maths, geography, world culture, and more science than anybody he had ever met. While you were only of average intellect in your time, you were a fountain of knowledge in this time. Will asked you where you had learned such wondrous things and you had replied that you had learned all you knew in school and college, but what schools even let women in? He thought you must have been fabulously wealthy in your old land to receive such a fine education.

Although you gave Will much cause for concern, your friendly attitude and the fact that you didn’t scorn his lack of schooling made him begin to trust you. Instead of fearing your knowledge, he began to ask questions of you. He started to think of you less as his responsibility and more as a friend. Given time, he even found a job for you as a secretary for the governor himself, though it took a fair amount of convincing that a woman could do the job.

You offered to pay Will back for the money he had lent you thus far but he rejected the offer, claiming it was the place of any gentleman to help a lady in distress. At that, you started paying your own rent, and to repay Will’s kindness you had taken to cooking him meals after his long days at the forge. Although you weren’t the world’s greatest cook at home, it seemed your knowledge of ingredients and flavours made you an excellent cook in Port Royal; Will often said you ought to open a restaurant after you had introduced him to pizza.

You hummed thoughtfully, leaving your reverie far behind to simply enjoy Will’s company on the Port Royal balcony.

“What great aspects of the world are on your mind tonight?” Will asked, loving your ever-intelligent answers.

“What in the world, you ask. That’s cute. One should never have just the world on their mind, Will.”

“Oh? So what do you think of instead, if not the world?”

“I think of the universe and my new place within it.”

You had explained the concept of the universe to Will before but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. People were still discovering new islands of the sea from one week to the next. How could anyone possibly know if there were other planets if the human race hadn’t even discovered everything on Earth yet?

Despite his personal opinions of the universe, Will liked the sentiment of your words. “And where do you think your place is?” He asked.

You yourself pondered the question. It was a hard one to answer. In Port Royal, with your education, the sky was the limit, but you were a woman. At home, you had the freedom to do what you wanted when you wanted, but everyday life was lonely and filled with a world of people that didn’t care for anyone but themselves. Truthfully, it didn’t matter where you would have liked to be. It all depended on whether fate would ever reopen another portal and throw you back where you came from or whether you would be left in Port Royal forever; perhaps it would be a continuous loop of being thrown back and forth, though you highly doubted that.

You realised that Will was waiting you an answer, so you smiled, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps then, Miss (L/N), if I may be so forward as to say so, you might find that your place is here.”

“In Port Royal?”

“By my side,” Will corrected, swallowing nervously when you turned to face him.

At home, people who said such things to you were always just playing a cruel joke, but you knew Will was being sincere; he always was. For one guilty moment, your thoughts lingered on Elizabeth Swann; if you accepted Will’s proposal, then she would never experience his love, nor he hers.

“I-” Playing things safe for a moment, you dared to ask, “William Turner, are you saying what I think you are?”

“Miss (L/N)- (Y/N),” Will grabbed your hands earnestly. “I was a simple man before I met you, but you have opened my eyes to a whole new world. I may not have much to offer in respects of wealth or position and I have no doubt that you deserve somebody of better station than myself, but I love you and that is something I can offer you now and forever. You have my heart, if you will take it, and even if you do not, it shall still be yours, for I shall never offer it to another.”

“I don’t- I mean- What about Miss Swann? I thought you loved her.”

Will grimaced. He himself had also believed he was in love with Elisabeth Swann, but now after feeling real love towards you, he realised that what he had felt for Miss Swann was merely infatuation after she saved him during their shared childhoods.

“No (Y/N), I can say without a doubt that I love you most ardently. I understand if you do not wish to be with me or if you need some time to think-”

“No,” You interrupted curtly. You shook your head, searching for an explanation at Will’s curious expression, “I- I don’t need time to think. I just- Wow, um- Sorry, I know I’m messing things up here.”

Will managed to chuckle at your ever-strange manner of speaking, putting you somewhat at ease.

“At home, I could never have expected such a wonderful proposal, from anyone. I would say that except for a small few, romance is dead and most marriages are… well, complicated for lack of a better word. It seems that where I’m from, we write a lot of love songs and books just dreaming about the life we want. Nobody would ever even talk to me with the respect that you do; only royalty get spoken to like that.” You realised you were saying a lot of things Will would never understand, but what else could you do when you were sorting through your feelings for a film character. “Will- I- I love you.”

Will released his breath, feeling his heart pound ecstatically. He wanted to draw you into his embrace, but he still kept to his own gentleman’s code.

“(Y/N), with your permission, I would very much like to kiss you now.”

“I- Yes.”

Will raised a hand slowly to your cheek, stroking it gently. His eyes searched your face, memorising every detail of what would be his first kiss. He wondered if this was yours too, considering how different both your homes were. Trailing his hand down to your chin, he tilted your head up.

“You’re shaking,” He said, worried that you had suddenly changed your mind about him.

“I’ve never had anybody look at me the way you do,” You whispered anxiously. “It’s terrifying, in a good way.”

Will gave you a small smile, leaning in slowly to press his lips against yours. He did nothing to deepen the kiss, keeping it simple; it would be improper to do more when the two of you had only started courting that very night. However, as his lips parted from yours, he knew he would take every future opportunity to kiss you, his new love.

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#Will Turner X Reader #William Turner X Reader #Will Turner #William Turner #disney #potc #pirates of the caribbean #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert #theaspiringscreenwritersblog

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bunnylouisegrimes · 4 years ago

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The Ex-orcist (Put Me Out) (NOS4A2 Fanfic)

(A/N: Ah! Finally! A fanfic! It felt nice to write after being so busy! Be warned that this story is dark, makes nods to Charlie’s trauma, etc, but it’s got some humor in it. Hope you all enjoy this wild rollercoaster ride!)

@fae-sedai @wraith-of-christmas-future @peculiarparasol

The Ex-orcist (Put Me Out)

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

The moment I woke up, something was wrong. But I didn’t realize that I should’ve taken it seriously until it was too late.

When I woke up, I felt panicked. I felt as if I either woke up from a nightmare or something was going on in the room that jolted me awake. But there was no such thing. My dream was mindless and actually peaceful (something about me in Pony Land near the Dream Castle while Firefly and Medley zip past and Twilight offered me a ride). The room was damn near dead silent. The windows and turned off lights ensured the room was so dark, it was almost creepy.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched my body out. I rolled over and noticed Charlie’s light snoring as he slept soundly. His slicked back black hair looked a bit messy and fluffed up thanks to the pillows. His deep brown eyes were lightly clamped shut. His yellow-tinted sharper teeth jutted out of his mouth in an overbite, causing him to breath in and out of his nose and mouth. His pale skin would make him look dead if he wasn’t breathing and snoring. His snoring was not loud, rather comforting, comparable to soothing background noise. His flat stomach and chest rose and fell with ease. His hands and arms were crossed over his chest as if he were slumbering in a coffin. He was still dressed in one of his silk Riddle McIntyre shirts and his suspenders from the day he hadn’t bothered to take off. All in all, he looked like he were in a pleasant dream he couldn’t leave and nobody could take from him.

I smiled at this sight, picturing whatever Christmas or horror themed dream he was experiencing. I wondered if I was there with him.

The feeling of fear I felt upon waking up had lifted from me and the urge to urinate took over. Rolling over, however, I began to notice just how creepy the room looked. Shadows seemed to move... oh, good Lord, don’t be shadow people... God, I hated them...

“It’s nothing,” I whispered to myself. “You always get this way when a room gives you the heebie-jeebies for no reason. Just go piss before you piss the bed!”

I pulled the warm covers off of me, exposing my legs and feet to the coolness of the room. The rest of my body was kept warm thanks to my nightgown covered in flowers, stars, and rainbows. I noticed that near the lamp next to me sat Kuchi Kopi, staring blankly at the wall. I grabbed him and turned him on by pressing his bottom compartment. The room flooded with a neon green.

Perfect, I thought. This should comfort me while I go do my business.

I gently got out of bed and tiptoed near the door so as to not wake up Charlie (although many times it happened anyways thanks to his sharp senses). I opened the door and it creaked lowly, making me cringe. When I flipped around, he had scratched his nose and rolled over, making small mumbles before going back to snoring. I sighed and continued to sneak out of the door and into the hallway.

I noticed that the white-yellow nightlight was still on, comforting me further. The whole house was still and silent, and my footsteps and his snoring from the room over were my only audible comforts.

I reached the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped inside, Kuchi Kopi’s light illuminating everything. I placed him on the sink, far away enough so that he wouldn’t fall over and get wet. After doing what I needed to do, I grabbed him again and walked back out, anticipating getting back to bed...

The rods in my eyes had to adjust to the total darkness in the hallway that jarred me. The nightlight was completely out. I didn’t understand how it had burnt out of all times but now, and how I didn’t notice, but I figured it was because I was focusing on Kuchi Kopi’s light rather than the light in the hallway. Still... how did it burn out?

An odd noise in front of me made me freeze and my blood turn to ice. I couldn’t explain it, but it sounded like a gargling and a grunting at once. Every few seconds, a deep and ghostly growl was heard. I managed to lift Kuchi Kopi up and I noticed that one of the spare bedroom doors was creaked open.

None of the other doors were open before.

I needed to see what it was. A large part of me told me to get Charlie, but the other part of me said, “Don’t be a pussy! It’s just an animal. You need to tell Charlie what animal it is. You’re gonna be fine as long as you don’t get too close.”

I walked as quietly and slowly as I possibly could, even moreso than I did moments ago when I was leaving the master bedroom. The noises got louder and louder, but I could tell it was only because I was getting closer to the source. It was unlike any sound I had ever heard. The more I heard it, the more I realized my mind and ears were not playing tricks on me. It wasn’t the flapping and squeaking of a bat or bats, it wasn’t the squeaking of mice or rats, it wasn’t the purring cooing sound of a raccoon... the realization of what it wasn’t after doing the process of elimination fully hit me. If it wasn’t any of these things... then what the hell was it? Should I even be attempting to see what it was?

I knew that by now, I had already reached the door. What would the point be in turning back now? I was already here, I should at least see what it was. A feeling of dread settled in my stomach and crawled into my heart, making it feel heavy and beat faster. I took a deep breath in through my nose, suspending it to summon the courage to peek into the room.

The first thing I noticed was a dark shadow in the upper corner of the ceiling. It was hanging there like a spider... that’s where the noises were coming from. My eyes went as wide as saucers, my heart pounded in my ears, and I thought I was going to let my urine go again.

The thought occurred to me: These sounds are not of this world. They are the sounds a possessed person makes when they’re battling the darker force inside of them.

Subconciously, my shaking arm somehow lifted Kuchi Kopi up to see this figure more clearly. I should’ve just ran... but I had no control over myself in this moment. I was too stunned and terrified to just run... so my brain decided I needed to do something else.

The green glow cast other shadows on the wall, much like in the master bedroom. I trailed up, revealing the figure was more than just inky black. It was... a woman.

She was wearing some sort of dusty orange-pink dress (perhaps from the 30’s?), with a basic floral design. Her bent legs were covered with stockings and her shoes were tipped at the end and old fashioned, clinging to the back wall and right wall. She was thin. Her fire red hair was medium length and wild, as if it hadn’t been brushed in quite a while. Her arms made her hands be pressed against the wall in a similar fashion to her legs and feet. From this, I could tell her skin was sickly pale, even more ill than Charlie’s pallor. Her face was towards the wall where she continued to make these noises, as if mumbling to herself in a rabid language only she understood.

I was nanoseconds away from stepping back when she stopped making her noises, making my rapidly beating heart drop into my stomach. The house was back to being dead still again. Could she hear me? Was she listening for me? Did she notice the green light? Did she notice the shadows? Could she smell me? Could she somehow sense me? Who was she? These thoughts screamed at me as I tried desperately not to rapidly gasp and let her hear me.

Not that it mattered in the end anyway, because a sickening cracking of her neck as her head found its way towards me filled the brief void of noise in the house. I couldn’t control the gasp that came from me and small jolt my body made when I saw her face...

Her wide green eyes looked glassy and empty, surrounded by hollow black holes, making her look even more sick than before. I could barely see the freckles directly under her eyes. I could finally notice her right neck and shoulder had a huge hole in them from where somebody had taken a large bite, causing exposed skin that had barely recovered and looked half scaled and half rotten. The left side of her face looked the same. Her lips were pried into a disgustingly large smile, and foam and drool pooled out of her mouth. Some sort of green-black bile dribbled down her chin and onto the floor. Her noises began again as she analyzed me.

Now, Charlie and the children were vampires. They were normally frightening, but never towards me. To their pedo victims, however, their eyes always had the look of victory and justice. A look of, “You hurt the innocent, so now you pay the price.” This woman held not that look, but the look of, “You are the innocent, and what I wouldn’t do to destroy you right here and now...”

Once our eyes locked for only a second, one name came to me, and I knew at once who was before me:

“Cassandra.”

She jumped down from the corner and landed on the floor with a loud THUD, making me jolt and gasp again. She looked like the perfect spider. Her head was still twisted as it was before, and she started crawling towards me at a steady pace.

I yanked the door shut with my spare hand and ran all the way down the hallway and back into the master bedroom, not caring how loud I was. A part of me was terrified of going back in there because a part of me wondered if Charlie was even in there and if I would somehow find myself faced with her, but I was relieved when I saw Charlie still lying in bed.

I pulled the master bedroom door shut, not taking any time to see if she was out in the hallway, locked it, turned on the lights, and dove into bed.

“Charlie! Charlie! Wake up! Please!” I begged, hyperventilating and shaking him awake.

Charlie jumped awake and shook his head, staring at me. “What? What?” He asked.

“Charlie-there-and-I-hallway-and-“

“Slow down,” he said, holding onto me tightly and gently at all once. “Take a deep breath. You’re freaking out and I can’t understand you.”

After about ten seconds of steadying my breathing enough, I spat out, “Charlie, your ex wife... Cassie, she’s... she’s in one of the spare bedrooms and she’s a demon! She came at me! I went to pee a few minutes ago and I heard these noises and she was there! Charlie please believe me! She’s gonna kill us! We have to kill her or get out of here-“

“Woah, what?” Charlie’s face went from pure concern and worry to one of slight panic mixed in. “My ex wife is demonic and outside our bedroom door? She’s in our house?”

“Yes!” I felt as though I was about to cry now. “Charlie, we need to do something!”

His eyes burned holes into the covers of the bed as he thought about what to do. I could tell the painful trauma he went through with her that was being dug out of him didn’t help him at all. “I don’t even know how it’s possible... why or how would she come back? And why is she demonic? Is this the work of another Creative? Is this a demon possessing her corpse? Is my mind subconsciously creating this?...” He rubbed his head. “I... I don’t know what we should do...”

Bravery swelled my heart as I walked over to a safe I kept in the corner of the room. I entered the code and opened it. “I’ll tell ya what we’re gonna do... we’re gonna kill a bitch tonight!”

I skimmed through my guns and tried to find a suitable one. “Okay... Thompson might be a bit much, don’t know how much we need to be Bonnie and Clyde, plus it might jam... sniper is for far away business... AR-15 might be too much too... CMMG Banshee... BAR is gonna be waaay too much... AUG is too much... Moisen Nagant, maybe... M1 Garand, Winchester rifle... Ah! Here’s my shotguns! These would work well and not fuck anything else up in the house as long as I’m a good aim! I’ll blast her face off! Now let’s see... Remington? Ooh! Never mind!” I pulled out a shotgun that was of course heavy, but suitable for a womanly figure. “This Mossberg Home Defense shotgun is perfect! But just for safe measure...” I slipped on a belt with a holster and got on my tiptoes, looking through my pistols. “Luger, Smith and Wesson Texas Ranger Commemorative Revolver? Definitely out of the question! That and the Bowie knife that comes with it are collectibles! Throwaway revolver that probably killed people before it was given to me? Ah, maybe, but that Dirty Harry shit is a pain in the ass, takes some force... Glock it is!” I pulled it down and loaded both my guns up. “That crazy bitch still out there, Charlie? I haven’t heard her.”

I looked up and noticed he was pressed against the door, trying to listen. “I can’t hear her... I can almost sense her, like she’s trying to hide from me, but I can’t tell where she is...” He looked at me, chilled to the bone. “Are you sure guns will work?”

“Well, we gotta try! We can’t just be weaponless! And you know what?” I walked over to the nightstand and pulled out a Saint Jude Rosary, pulling it over my neck. I grabbed a bag of holy salt and a bottle of holy water too. “We have more of these two in here, don’t worry. You hold these while I hold the guns. You’re gonna have to be my ears because I’m going to put earplugs on to protect my hearing. It’s bad enough guns can wreck your ears outside, but inside, it’s gonna be a lot worse. And I don’t have the ability to recover from any form of injury like you can.”

He flinched a bit at holding them. While he wasn’t harmed by holy items like other vampires, it did have some kind of effect on the darker side of his being. If anything, it was just a bit of discomfort.

I finished loading my guns up and took the safety off. “Alright, safety is off. I’m ready. Are you?”

We looked at each other with a mix of confidence and nervousness. “Yes, I’m ready.”

I put the earplugs on and we both tiptoed to the door, just as I had before. Charlie slowly opened the door and I aimed the shotgun, ready to blow her away. Cassie was nowhere in sight, to our surprise. We figured she was either playing hide and seek with us or still behind the door I closed. But how did she get into the house in the first place? Could she teleport? If so, why didn’t she lunge at me quicker? Why didn’t she teleport into our room? Because that would’ve been too easy and she wanted to give us a running start?

We continued to creep down the hallway. I pointed to the door of the room she was in. Charlie pressed his ears up to it. He shook his head to let me know she wasn’t in there anymore.

So she can teleport.

We continued to search through the hallway in each of the rooms. She was nowhere upstairs. We decided to search downstairs, but she was nowhere in the living room, dining room, or kitchen. We even peeked into the pantry.

The only place to look was the back room where the washer and dryer were. Exiting the kitchen, we opened the door and looked around the first part of the back room where the ironing board and some extra supplies were. We both froze when we heard rustling behind the door just beyond.

“She’s in there,” Charlie mouthed, pointing.

I nodded and readied the shotgun as we snuck over to the door. Charlie pressed his body to it, hand wrapped around the knob. He sighed with a look on his face as if he really didn’t want to open it up, but he knew he had to.

He swung open the door; it was comparable to ripping a band aid off. He flipped the lights on, revealing Cassie standing hunched over on the old washing machine and dryer. She flipped around to look at us with those evil eyes. She growled and hissed, as if defending her territory (but we all know it wasn’t hers).

Her growling and hissing quickly melted into a full scream, causing me to pull the trigger. A loud BOOM exploded into the room, alongside her face. Her face looked as though someone had run over it with a train. Blood and flesh splattered on the walls and her dress. Still... she didn’t go down. She cocked her head in curiosity and giggled inhumanly.

“What?” I sputtered. I shot her again, another explosion filling the room and strong force from the gun almost knocking me to the ground. More blood and flesh went everywhere and destroyed more of her face, making it look even more terrifying. Still... she didn’t go down. She continued to stand there as if nothing had happened.

“The salt! The water!” I screamed at Charlie.

He threw huge amounts of the holy salt and water at her. She writhed in pain as they both caused her flesh in various areas to burn and fumes of smoke to rise... yet she laughed her sick laugh, having a delightful time.

“Throw more!” I yelled. “Don’t stop!”

He continued to throw more. Bright red-orange-yellow boils formed out of the smoky burns and burst, making more blood trail down her sickly skin. She still laughed, unfazed by this.

“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth and whatever God that may be His Father, in Their Holy Name, get the fuck out of our house!” I screeched at the top of my lungs.

This made her laugh even harder. I understood now: she was laughing at our attempts to get rid of her using weapons and holy objects and mentions. Did they not work? Was she beyond that?

“I’m running low on salt and water!” Charlie yelled loud enough for me to hear him through my earplugs.

“Throw it all onto her face! We have more upstairs!” I cried.

He prepared himself to get close to her, really not up for it. But he came through anyways. He ran towards her. Despite her swinging her arms at him, he threw the last of the bag and dumped the last of the water at her. The liquid dripped down what remained of her face and the salt formed a small chalk cloud around it. Burns and boils spawned everywhere, bursting pus and blood at different intervals. She cackled like a Hyena straight from the depths of Hell. Her face was beyond recognition, but I could tell that smile remained. Her eyes still kept their empty gaze on us.

“She’s not going down...” I breathed. “How the fuck is she not going down?! What the fuck do we do now?!”

“Do we pray? Will prayer work?” Charlie asked loudly.

“It’s worth a try.”

“I know the Lord’s Prayer.”

“Let’s try that!”

We recited it together to the best of our ability. The whole time, we focused our energy on her, even closing our eyes. willing her to leave and picturing light boiling her away. We even added in our own lines into the prayer. But instead of melting or recoiling back, we heard her slowly sliding down the washer and dryer, making gargling laughing noises.

By the time we finished the prayer and opened our eyes, she was mere feet from us, on her hands and knees. What made us shocked was that the blood on the wall, the flesh... it was all gone, and her face was in the middle of repairing itself. She let out a throaty banshee cry.

I shot the center of her chest near her heart (if not directly on her heart). This time, the blood and flesh sprayed on the floor, and she was jolted back a bit, but within seconds, her missing muscle, integument, and blood trailed back up her body. We noticed something off as her body repaired itself. As the injury was sealing shut, a glowing flash of static energy emitted from the hole in her chest before disappearing entirely when it was healed, as if nothing had happened. The sight of the static made Charlie’s legs quiver like barren tree branches in the cold wind.

“She’s a creature of the static!” I could hear him cry. “No wonder what we do doesn’t work! She’s only weakened for a few moments by what we do! She was in the back of my mind for so long... she must’ve gained the strength to escape to kill us all!”

While Charlie was crying out his realization, she looked at him the whole time with a curious and demented gaze. She panted like a dog with wide eyes and a disgusting smile.

“What does that mean?!” I cried myself.

“We have to find where I buried her body back in my inscape! What we do from there depends on the circumstance!”

She burst into laughter, as if she knew we couldn’t do anything, and anything that what we would be attempting to do would be stupid and worthless. Her feminine cackling was mixed with throaty sickness and reverberating deepness. Her eyes gained the glint of possession and control as she looked at Charlie. She wanted to make him hers again. She would do anything to get her hands on him to break his soul in ways she was unable to do when she was a bitter and abusive human woman during the Depression.

“Are you sure?!”

“I feel it inside of me, yes!” Charlie called back.

We had stepped back so far as she continued to crawl towards us that we were nearing the kitchen. She paused and swatted her hand to my Mossberg’s barrel. Instinctively, I shot her hand clean off. She flinched a bit, but she analyzed the missing body part in wonder, especially as blood came spurting out of her wrist like a fountain. But within moments, the blood pooled back into her body and she grabbed the destroyed hand with her other, twisting it back on her arm. The same static flash sewed her hand back in place before it returned to its normal appearance. She rose from her hands and knees, her gaze returning from her hand, staring and smiling directly at us with a look that read, “Now, where were we?”

She growled for only a second or two before she came charging at me. Also by instinct, I shot her leg where my shotgun was aimed. She fell down and her head hit the floor, but she erupted into her distinct laughter, especially as she raised her head to look at me again. She twisted her leg into place and the flash yet again healed her destroyed patella bone. Not even a shot near her femoral artery was enough to bring her down.

I wanted to shoot her again, even if I knew it was useless, but I realized my shotgun felt lighter, and empty clicks greeted me. I had used all five bullets the shotgun took. I was out of ammo in my Mossberg.

Before I could even think about reaching for my Glock, she had charged at me and threw me down. She managed to knock my burning hot, smoky and empty shotgun out of my hands and it slid across the floor of the kitchen. I screamed as she held me down with superhuman force. Her terrifying face met mine. Despite all the injuries it took moments before, the scars that lined the side of it, her neck and her shoulder all remained. They must’ve been permanent marks that would last for all of eternity thanks to the moment of her death.

“Charlie! Help me!” I squealed like a pig about to be butchered.

“Charlie! Help me!” She mimicked me in her voice, although I could hear there was a bit of my voice within hers.

I remember watching a Ghost Adventures episode many years before when I was a little kid. It was some special they had where they went back to the first location they had gone to when their show started, and they invited 100 fans to join them. The place was haunted by demons, and they captured mimicking of their voices in EVP recordings. It was later explained when they went to the location for the third time by a bishop that they had a friendship with that demons liked to mimic to mess with people’s minds. I had no doubts that if whatever was within Cassie was demonic, she would be mimicking my voice in some capacity to mess with everyone. Plus, it suited her personality when she was human. She loved to mess with and break Charlie’s mind, despite him doing everything for her, just to abuse him and control him. Why would that go away in her afterlife, especially if she was possessed by something that craved that evil and would want to use it to its advantage?

I tried to reach for my Glock, but she had my body pressed down against the kitchen floor too tightly. The horrifying thought of my kidneys bursting against the pressure, causing water, urea, ammonia, blood, and any other needed material that was to be cleansed out of my body bursting out of my flesh and congealing on the tiles filled my mind. I wanted to scream at this vivid image, but the thoughts occurred to me that this was Cassie’s doing. She was filling my head with these thoughts to get a reaction out of me. Maybe she was even feeding off of it, just as she fed off the pain of her husband years ago.

“Stupid bitch,” she hissed, her voice making goosebumps pop all over my skin. “Stupid short fat bitch. Die, you writhing insect. Die and-“

WHAM! Charlie smacked the butt of my empty shotgun against her face and knocked her back and off of me. The back of her head hit the floor and I took advantage of that moment to scurry away. Charlie tried to hold her down, but her upper half rose like Dracula out of his coffin, forcing Charlie to step back for a moment so his head wouldn’t smack into hers. Her head craned towards him and she pulled him towards her by grabbing onto his arm. My hand frantically pawed for my Glock in my holster as I still lied on my back on the floor.

She stared straight into Charlie’s eyes, speaking up in her voice, this time my mimicked voice not present.

“You drained me of my youth, Charles. You and those little shits of daughters. You made me this monster. You took away all my joy and happiness. You brought this upon yourself.”

“Shut up!” He roared, trembling to his very core from anger and fear. “You abused me! Nothing I did was enough for you! All you did was use me for free labor and to take out all your anger on me! The same for your own children! You were always a monster! It was you, alongside everyone else who hurt me in life, who made us vampires! You were a huge part of a large puzzle that created me! Don’t deny it!”

My sweaty and shaking hand finally lifted the gun from the holster and attempted to aim it at Cassie.

“Now you think you can come back and terrorize me and my new woman?!” Charlie demanded. “Think again! I may be Nosferatu, but it will be you who’s dead by sunrise!”

She giggled, her eyes and tongue bulging out of her head as if she was suffering from some sort of thyroid issue. I shot her head, but the blood splashed out and retreated back into the wound within seconds. She didn’t even flinch or react to this, just kept her eyes and grip on Charlie. She spoke up once more.

“Very cute, Charles. It’s almost as adorable as you flailing about when I threw that oil lamp at you. Do you remember your best coat and hair on fire? You looked so funny! My sisters and I loved to laugh at you! Remember?” I shot her in the head again twice, but just like the first shot, it was useless.

“Put me out! Put me out!” She mocked Charlie, just as she did when she was alive and human, but this time, she could actually mimic his voice. Her voice slowly rose from a mix of her own and his to his voice entirely. “Put me out! Put me out!”

“Silence, you soulless ginger haired bitch!” Charlie roared.

I popped a few rounds into her face, arm, chest, and stomach, but they were all useless.

Her voice suddenly changed to my voice entirely. “How could I ever be with you, Charlie? I used to be so young and happy before you. Now I’m dead and drained because of you, you gross vampire.”

This struck a deep cord with him. “Rose would never say that! Leave her out of this! She’s nothing like you and never will be!”

“I’m not now, Charlie. But wait till I grow older,” Cassie continued in my voice. “I’ll shed those yellow chick feathers and they’ll become that bitter brown because of you. It’s your curse in life. From Mommy Manx to Princess Cassie to Jolene to every other woman in your life. Like King Midas’s touch, except instead of turning to gold, you drain women of everything good. You’ll die alone one day. Your immortality is not absolute. You will die without a wife and those kids will die without a mother. Face it, Charles. I’m just like the rest. You thought Cassie and Jolene were different too... But I am one of many...”

“Like hell I am, you man beater!” I screamed. “Quit projecting your own bullshit and using my voice! Keep my voice out of your larynx and quit using your shitty words with it!”

She ignored me and got close in Charlie’s face. I finished popping the last of my fifteen rounds into her brain, but still, nothing worked. She beamed at his fear filled eyes and the trauma that lay behind them. Her voice became that of a man’s I had never heard before.

“When you go to Hell, I’ll be sure to have my fun with you once again, Manx boy...”

I threw the Glock straight at her head. She must’ve had enough, because she pulled away from Charlie and threw him back against the wall. He was hyperventilating and sweat poured from every crevice. Using the voice of his childhood rapist was enough to put him in this state.

“Enough you bitch!” She growled, her voice returning to her own. She threw herself back on top of me, the earplugs falling off and landing on the floor. Not that I had much use for them without ammo in my guns. I could hear her rattling breathing and voice much more clearly. “I’ll see to it your soul is raped of any essence of itself in Hell alongside his! Wait your turn!”

“Eat my ass, you psycho cunt! You’re nothing but a spoiled control freak brat who’s daddy gave her everything. You’re just mad you can’t control your kids and Charlie anymore. You’re mad because I’m a better woman than you ever were and I’m not even rich like you. I’m a better mother to your kids and they love me more than they ever loved you. You’re a joke! You hear me? Your own kids turned on you and ate you! That’s why you look even uglier than you did before! It’s a reflection of the damage you caused your husband and kids! But now they’re mine! You’ll never have them back! Go back to Hell where you belong and stay there, Cassandra!”

I managed to lift my Saint Jude rosary up and slammed it against her neck where her voice box was. It burned and sizzled her neck, leaving a burn mark. She screeched in fury, but before she could tear her teeth into my jugular or face, Charlie ripped her off of me and wrapped his fingers around her freshly burnt neck, strangling her.

“All of this pain you caused me is enough, but you will not try to use my other experiences against me,” he spoke lowly before erupting into a yell. “Stay out of our heads and stay out of our lives! Die again!”

Cassie squirmed and giggled, as if he were tickling her rather than strangling her. I took this chance to grab his Wraith’s keys from the coat hanger in the dining room. I ran back to him and held onto his back. “Come on, Charlie! We have to get out of here! It’s not working! We need to leave!”

After a few seconds of clinging to his death grip on her, he finally loosened and grabbed onto me. Cassie didn’t miss a beat and snapped her jaw at one of my tendons. I screamed, but Charlie picked me up just in time before she could rip it apart with her mandibles. He took off running and held me close to him. He unlocked the door and threw it open. She began to crawl towards us again, but we slammed the door shut behind us and took off running towards the barn where the Wraith sat, waiting for another ride.

The night air felt cool and healing on our sweaty bodies, and dark clouds sat above, eyeing us. I clung to Charlie for dear life and sputtered out, “I’m so sorry for everything she did to you and everything else that happened to you. I love you so much and I would never hurt you with any intent.”

“I know, I know,” he gasped. “And I appreciate that deeply. I thank you for all of eternity, and I will love you too for all of eternity, but don’t make it sound like goodbye. We’re going to finish this bitch once and for all!”

The doors of the barn swung open and he set me down. We ran to the Wraith’s doors, who opened for us with human eagerness. It was as if she was saying, “Need an escape? Don’t fear! I’m here!”

We dove into our respective seats, closing the doors behind us. Charlie fumbled with the keys before putting them in the ignition. The engine purred to life, a calming hum that put both our hearts to ease, a familiarity that could settle one down when panic was an appropriate response to a situation.

He put the Wraith in gear and pulled back out of the barn at speeds I didn’t think were possible for a car that was designed to only go 80 miles an hour maximum. Before he could pull out of the driveway, a large THUD distrupted us. We screamed at Cassie sitting on the hood, that foam, drool, and bile from when I first saw her dribbling out of her open mouth, ready to bite. Her eyes were wide in an impossible way.

“I’ll skin you both alive and fuck your skulls until your souls are mine!” She rasped.

The Wraith, as if reacting on her own, flipped her hood up and knocked Cassie down onto the gravel. Without Charlie’s control, the Rolls lurched forward and backward over Cassie’s body, flattening her like a pancake. The car did this for twenty seconds straight. It pulled back after the twenty seconds were up and through the headlights, we saw Cassie laying flat on the ground.

Without even thinking, it was my turn to burst into laughter. I laughed and I laughed, then Charlie started laughing. It was something straight out of Airplane or Monty Python. The fact the car had a mind of her own and was willing to fight Cassie too had us rolling. Not even the Wraith, a car, liked Cassie, and was willing to run over her. It was hilarious.

Our laughter, no matter how mad and brief it was, was cut off by Cassie raising her head. That sick smile was gone, and in its place was the most terrifying frown and set of hateful eyes you could possibly imagine.

“No more games!” She growled. “Get ready to die!”

We floored it down the driveway and onto the road. Charlie focused his mind on the static to get to the Saint Nick Parkway as quickly as possible to find where he buried Cassie’s body. I peaked into the rear view mirror and saw Cassie sprinting at us on all fours like a rabid wolf chasing after the car. Before she could reach us, a flash of static consumed the car like lightning. The sky became filled with snow and stars, and the scene became familiar: we were in Charlie’s mind.

I sighed and pressed my head against the cool glass of the car’s window. Charlie focused solely on driving now, trying to remember where he placed Cassie’s corpse. I dared not bother him, as his face read total dedication and if I disrupted him, he would’ve most likely snapped without even meaning to.

After a few minutes, we pulled up to a small little forest of barren trees. He finally spoke up.

“This is where I buried her.”

We stepped out of the car and the doors closed behind us. Without my proper clothes, I was freezing. Even though Charlie didn’t bring his coat or shoes, his body temperature dictated he was fine. We searched throughout the trees until one stood out to us.

“Good God...” Charlie breathed.

The tree was taller than all the rest and black, with glowing red cracks crawling all throughout it. Its limbs were sharp like knives. It stood out like an infection amongst all the white snow and other normal trees. Beneath its base was an empty, dug up grave.

“Just as I thought... Her dark energy must’ve created this when it filled some of the voids in the static...” he mumbled. “Brought her back to life...”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Her voice made us recoil as she came out from behind the trunk. “Just like your Wraith, it’s my object of power. It’s supplied me with so much energy, it’s made me impossible to kill. After I’m done killing you two, your precious Christmasland will be easy to gain control over once I take possession of that Phantom. Those little shits’ souls will belong to me, and I will turn your goulish theme park from one of fun to one of fun... for only me!” She gave a series of maniacal laughter.

If this tree is like his Wraith... that must mean...

An idea occurred to me as I rushed back to the car. Charlie stayed where he stood, paralyzed in fear. Cassie leaned in and stared daggers into him.

“Give in, Charles... it’s taken me all these years, but just like when we were together... I always won and got what I want in the end... now, prepare to watch your world melt into static to my own desires... not even your own mind belongs to you anymore... just like daddy told me... everything I want is mine, and if not... there will always be a way for me to have it all.”

“Your daddy was wrong, cunt,” I called. “Tell him that when you see him in Hell.”

She looked up as I lit an oil lamp I grabbed from the trunk of the car on fire. Her face went from one of smugness and delight to the one she had when she watched the husband and kids she abused become vampires about to turn on her: one of pure fear and horror.

“No... no! Get that away! Get that away!” She cried. She backed away from Charlie, about to approach me...

Too late.

I threw the lamp at the tree. The black bark exploded into flames. Mixed with the red cracks in it, the tree became nothing but a bright red light. Cassie fell to her knees screaming like a toy with dying batteries in agony. Her whole body was melting, like the Wicked Witch of the West did when water splashed on her (although, it was quite ironic given that it was fire this time).

Cassie continued to scream. “Put me out! Put me out!” She screeched. Her integumentary, muscular, and skeletal systems became jelly. Every organ melted into soupy liquid. Every nerve and cell burst. Her green eyes pooled onto the snow in boiling liquid, and a similar liquid (most likely her brain) oozed from her ears and nose. Her red hair fell in clumps. The liquid poured out of her mouth, causing her screaming to die down and became nothing but the odd liquid dripping out of her. Most likely, it was her innards filling her and rising out. She fell entirely to the ground. This went on for a full minute.

The flames of the tree died down just as her screams had and it fell to the ground the same time she had, the water from the snow preventing it from spreading and causing a forest fire. By then, the tree was nothing but a husk of smoke and dead wood, and Cassie was nothing but an empty, flattened, liquified and lifeless corpse. Her life was snuffed out just as the tree’s flames were by the snow.

I grabbed onto Charlie’s hand, leaning into him, as if to tell him, “She can’t hurt us anymore... she won’t hurt them... she can’t hurt you anymore...”

“Put me out... Put me out...” Charlie whispered suddenly, a smile forming on his lips, his overbite jutting out, his eyes gleaming with victory. “Put me out... Put me out...”

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charles manx #nos4a2 charlie

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kogo-dogo · 4 years ago

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ooh 5, 9, 43 maybe??

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

I can’t read things that are improperly formatted. If something isn’t spaced correctly or is an utter block of text, my brain just shuts off. It could be the most innovative, well-written work to have every spilled from human hands, but the inside of my head would just be angry and afraid and flip the “off” switch. Said brain just expects a pattern, and when that pattern is broken? I can’t do it.

I’m also not huge on most AUs. I’m what a lot of people would have called in the olden days a “canon elitist.” I’m all for flubbing things if you can make it make sense in the context of the original material, but I’m always wary of AUs. I blame the fact I was very heavily into the Elder Scrolls fandom when Mog Mod was popular and everyone’s Dunmer was a goth boy in leather chaps.

That said, not all AUs are made equal. Some people know how to write in-character and compelling content. Sometimes I’m guilty of it myself (I say, while gesturing violently to HRV). I’m just very, very leery of them.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

The fics I have in mind that are unknown are fics that are literally lost. I think it’s kind of interesting to have Secret Knowledge of Hidden Fics, so I’m gonna share those instead.

- There was an illustrated(?) fic that was lost when the PlanetElderScrolls forum was destroyed, which was a screenshot-with-story fic written by a guy named Captain Jordan. About... Captain Jordan. He was a ship-sailing pirate who hung out in the Sea of Ghosts in Morrowind with a rag-tag group of non-lore compliant friends and kept ending up in weirder and weirder predicaments. Glitches that happened in-game were treated as “canon” to his adventure, and included a whale that jumped so high out of the water that it flew away, a Nord named Cjad who repeatedly died from falling from the crow’s nest, and his Khajiit and Bosmer companions getting into a raging fist-fight while a castle burned around them. It was... not lore compliant, but it was fucking hilarious because the author had one of the best senses of humor I’ve seen in writing.

- A New Vegas crack fic I found on the Fallout Kink Meme back in the day. It was about Vulpes Inculta infiltrating a slumber party with all of the most famous females of the Mojave, while dressed in a bad wig and pajamas. Throughout the whole thing, he was kept perfectly in-character, and so while all of these women are talking about their crushes and painting their nails, he is trying to piece together sensitive information from their conversations. It ends with him becoming convinced they’re oracles because they’re using a paper fortune teller to “see the future,” and he covertly informs Caesar that they’ve predicted he will do “naked Twister with the whore, Santiago.”

- My holy grail that I hope to find again someday: The Vulpes/Deacon fic. It wasn’t a ship fic, but was basically a redemption arc for Vulpes Inculta. I remember he joined a caravan after the Legion was destroyed at the insistence of Courier Six, and marched eastward until he wound up in the Commonwealth. Once there, he’d already realized how misguided he was, and while stopping at... that one settlement that hates synths? He finds a tape for “Join the Railroad” in a trashcan, and is inspired to actually seek them out. The rest of the fic is Vulpes trying to atone for his life as a tyrant and slaver by liberating synths and fighting the Institute (who he considered a second coming of the Legion). He becomes friends with Deacon, and hilarity ensues as... they’re both expert spies but have vastly different personalities and approaches. It was very good and I would pay money to have it back again, but it seems like whoever wrote it wiped it clean from the internet.. and it was unknown enough that I’ve yet to even find somebody who also read it.

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

As much as I roll my eyes at the “goth boy Morrowind” time of the fandom back in the late 2000s, the Elder Scrolls fandom was actually very encouraging. I was a sixteen year old surrounded by grown adults in the forum I frequented, and I would write some of the worst, most cliche, garbage stuff known to man... and all of these adults would just applaud me and clap me on the back and congratulate me and tell me to keep going and chase that dream.

The same community that harbored all of these bizarre Mary-Sue Nerevarines and goth clubs in daedric shrines were some of the most affirming people I’ve been around. In their eyes, this was all for fun and personal enjoyment, so you can write and do whatever, so long as it didn’t hurt anyone and it made you happy. And if you wanted to put a Dremora in raver gear or dress up your Khajiit like he shopped at Hot Topic? Fine.

Those people are the entire reason I started taking writing seriously in the first place, and I adore them even over a decade later.

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frangipanidownunder · 4 years ago

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If you have one, what is your favourite trope to write? How many pieces of writing you have begun that you intend to finish? What are some of them about? How often do you write? What non txf are you writing? What was your most difficult piece to write/why? What fic/s (plus links please) are you most proud off. Who is your fav character to write/why? Post a passage (wip or posted) that you’re proud of. What is one thing you learned, through your writing process, you can pass on? Thank you 😘

Hey lovely. This is long, so it’s under a cut.

I think my favourite trope is friends to lovers because you can write it into any genre and throw in a dash of angst or smut too.

I am only have one fanfic WIP at the moment, and that’s the 1930s maid/master AU. I tend to only write one fic at a time. I pretty much only write to prompts so it would be unfair to start a fic for somebody else and not finish it.

In the non-txf world of writing, I have two short stories I’m editing for a competition. They’re both written, but I’m not totally satisfied that they’re ready yet. I will tweak them a little more before submitting. And then I’m starting on the hefty revisions of a YA horror novel I wrote during NaNo last year. That MS started as a few paragraphs in an xf horror workshop I held, then turned it into a short original story, then loved it enough to write a full novel.

The most difficult piece is the current WIP. It’s over 60K words and is historical, has a convoluted plot and requires research to get the details and setting right. I hate it, hahaha. Of my completed stories, Skin Trade was challenging because of its plot and structure.

I’m probably most proud of Skin Trade because it was a huge effort, but there’s not much pay off for casefiles. I wrote a Scully-focused multichap called Scar Tissue focusing on her recovery from the bullet wound in Tithonus that I felt was pretty good. And perhaps the other one that sticks in my mind that I always thought was a strong fic but doesn’t get much love is City of Souls. It’s late season six, the shadow of Fowley hanging over them, and Mulder takes Scully on a macabre drive.

Here’s a passage from the WIP ‘Midnight in the Garden of Dreams’ when Mulder meets Scully:

The moon was a milky disc in the sky and there was a buzz of gnats at the windows. It was too warm a night to sleep, particularly with his mind whirring still. Led by stars and moonglow, he followed the path around the side of the manor house to where father was making plans for the new car garage. Further away, there was a small brick cottage that had been earmarked for his and Diana’s early years together. She’d already spent many hours telling him her plans to upgrade the building. He’d tuned out because he found the cottage charming. The married servants’ houses were similar in style, albeit smaller and terraced, their rooflines just visible beyond the cottage, limned in the chalky light.

Between his soon-to-be new home and the manor there was a walled area, an old kitchen garden, he recalled, long since unused. The gate was rickety and warped but he pushed hard and it creaked open. The smell was exotic, a heady mix of sweet and spicy and in the dim light he could see there were still plantings in rows. How long had they been here, just growing, life continuing despite neglect?

Bending, he plucked a leaf and rubbed it between his fingers. A minty aroma wafted under his nose. From behind, there was a shuffle. He swung round. Movement. A fleeting figure through the gate. He ran after it. Saw the red hair reflected in the moonlight.

“Wait! Miss, please. Come back.”

The figure slowed, stopped, turned tentatively. It was the maid with the linen. “I meant no harm, Sir.”

The accent, Irish, was unmistakeable. Her shoulders stooped and her hair, loose, fell forward.

“It’s okay, Miss…?”

“Scully,” she said, dipping her body into a curtsey. “Dana Scully, Sir. I’m a maid, but I’ve…”

“Been growing herbs in the walled garden, I can see. Come, I don’t bite, I promise, although, perhaps it is I who shouldn’t be consorting with mysterious red-haired Irish lasses. How do I know you aren’t the dearg-dur?” he said.

“If I were forced into a loveless marriage, I might do a little more than plant a garden.”

Her response surprised him in the best kind of way. “So you won’t suck the blood from my body if I ask you for a guided tour? It’s been a long time since I spent any time here.”

She hesitated, then lifted up her face. He saw a flash of something wild, something that he’d like to tame. He tamped the thought down. The date of the wedding flashed in his mind.

And one thing I’ve learned from writing that perhaps new/emerging writers need to practise is finishing your work. Even if you don’t love it, end it. Then you can revise it. You can’t edit a blank page.

Thanks for the questions, gorgeous.

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heichou-dancho · 4 years ago

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A rant on NFTs

I make part of my living throught the Internet. I enjoy my e-reader, which is mostly filled with free (out of copyright) books. I have bought a few ebooks, though they tend to be on specific subjects like coding or writing with no physical versions available. I have bought games only as downloads or DLC's before, though again, only if no physical version was available. I've been burned by virtual stores closing down before, leaving me with no chance to redownload if my system dies (looking at you, PS3 singstar store).

Yesterday, I learned about NFT's, new proof that every year the Internet produces even dumber, more ridiculous crap that nobody of us could have ever imagined in our wildest dreams.

Just now, I saw that somebody had screenshotted one of Bril's pictures, probably to be used as an NFT, without her knowledge of course. Maybe if that becomes more rampant, this whole fad will crash and burn, unless some rich idiots keep it alive because ... well, I don't get how this is a good investment, because I'm dumb I guess.

All of this, as the whole bitcoin stuff in general, makes me wish the whole Internet would just completely black out for a couple of weeks thought I know of course, that it would damage millions of normal people (me included). Just so they realise that this virtual thing they own, is just that. Virtual. Can't eat it, can't touch it, can't use it without this ridiculous complex set of machines backing it all up. I know that the are probably whole college-courses and forums full of discussion on the realness and worth of virtual objects, I've seen it with epubs in the early 2010s*.

Maybe I'm just too unimaginative or simple-minded, but to me, it's no different and (as equally silly) as somebody in WOW paying a huge amount of real money for a virtual item. At least fanart (comissions), epubs or fanfic can be printed out. But that WOW item will never have a function outside of it's game and if the game is dead ... well, if it's not a steam download, I can still throw the disc at somebody I don't like?

I just increasingly feel like I'm living in the Emperor's new clothes**, and in the wrong time. I wish technology would permanently be stuck in the 2000s before the smartphone (I've been thinking about not getting a new one once my current one dies), even if that meant less of an income for me.

I guess the only thing I can do at the end of the day is shake my head, try to do something for the environment by turning my garden into an insect haven and work on becoming a walking, talking anachronism.***

...and to think that my very pragmatic grandpa (who didn't live to see the Internet), already considered the "fast" news coverage through TV and radio to be too stressful for the human psyche. Always thought that pre-WWII life in the countryside was slower when they only had the newspaper and a radio in the pub to gather around, but also much happier. I think he had a point.

*still waiting for the prophecised ebook antiquarians to pop into existence. Maybe they don't exist because none of the technology gurus ever talked to anybody in the second-hand book trade. Or didn't make a second attempt after the first antiquarian they asked never stopped laughing.

**and it's just no NFT's, or bitcoin, I feel the same about the 4th industrial revolution and all this talk about colonising Mars.

***Also groan at the surely coming piece in some culture magazine on tv, featuring the hosts and experts (including at least one IT and one philosophy professor) smiling, nodding, and telling the viewer again, just like with digitalisation and Mars expeditions, that we can't even fathom the negative consequences this will have for us yet, but that it's just the way things are now, and that there's nothing we can do about it, and so on and so on. For some reason, the tv host never does anything that even comes close to being criticial or, let's say, using the interrogation methods of a kindergartener by asking: "Why? Why does it have to be this way? Is there no alternative? Can't we do something else? Who decided it has to be this way?" and I'll be pissed off for the rest of the evening.

#rants

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toast-the-unknowing · 5 years ago

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Hi there, toast. Cutting to the chase: you're one of my favorite writers — not just one of my favorite fanfic writers. your short stories for the raven cycle are some of the funniest, tightest, emotionally devastating, well-crafted works of fiction i've encountered in awhile — better than a lot """"real-world, published"""" stuff. I kind of want to know more about how you got to this point. I think you've mentioned a background in screenwriting? But I don't think that's your day job? 1/?

2/? Really, I'm asking because you seem to have found a way to write regularly — to develop your chops and publish your art in a way that seems emotionally satisfying for you. to an outsider like myself, you seem to have struck a balance between living a life that pays the bills, and artmaking in a way that feeds your soul. you might not feel that way, i don't know. i'm someone who studied writing in college and am now wondering if and how i can still water that seed....

3/? when the reality is i also need to make money to live. i guess i'm curious about your life model right now, and if you're happy with the way you're currently fulfilling yourself creatively. do you want to be a """""published writer""""" someday? is your job one that is also creatively fulfilling, or is it more to pay the bills so that you can do your own creative projects in your free time?

4/4 I know my question isn't very clear, and I'm not sure it's even one question. the point is, i admire you, and you seem to be in a habit of writing creatively, even though i think you have an unrelated day job, and that balance seems mysterious and desirable to me.

Thank you for your kind words, Anon! I have attempted to write something helpful, but it got very long, so I am putting it behind a cut:

Keeping your art alive when you have to work an unrelated job is not easy. Struggling with it does not mean that you're failing, or that it can't be done, or that you won't get better at it down the road. It's also not the sort of thing where you hit equilibrium and it's all smooth sailing from there. I have gotten better at fitting my writing into my life, and I've figured out strategies and coping mechanisms and how to be better at just making myself do it even if I feel "blocked," but there are still stretches of time where it's harder to manage. Those periods don't last forever, and if it sometimes gets worse, it also sometimes gets better.

I suspect you know all of this, Anon, because you sound like a reasonable person and because you balanced writing and schoolwork, which can itself be tricky. I say it anyway because this is exactly the kind of subject where mean little thoughts like to sneak into your head and make you doubt yourself, and I think we could all use a reminder.

There are many writers who will say that you have to write every single day. Often they will say that you have to write at the same time every single day, or that you need to wake up early to write before work. These writers depress and demotivate me, because I don't actually have a writing "habit" in that there's no schedule or daily goal or set of standards involved. Some days I write a lot and some days I don't write at all. Shaming myself about that fact has never been helpful.

What has been helpful: an increased understanding of my writing process. Realizing I don't have to outline? Helpful! Realizing that generating ideas and fleshing out scenes and shaping the arc of a story and making it pretty are all different skills and some days one comes easier than the others? Helpful! Realizing that I tend to have an "a-hah" moment that tells me what the story is about, after which it's easier to write the story? Helpful! Realizing that if I can't think of an adjective or a line of dialogue or a joke, I can just put an asterisk and come back to it later, instead of halting the entire writing process until I come up with it? Helpful!

I don't know if any of these particular things would be helpful to you, because your writing process probably works differently than mine. Somebody out there absolutely does need to outline before they can write, or so I assume from the fact that it is mandated in virtually every book on writing I have ever read. You studied writing in school, so it's possible that you already have a great understanding of your process; it's also possible you have internalized a lot of other people's ideas of what you're writing should look like. Most of what I know about how I write was learned in the last few years, not in school.

It is also possible that you have a good understanding of what your process looks like when that gets to be the thing that takes up the majority of your time. In which case, you probably need to consider your life and your schedule as it is now. I know, for example, that I don't get much writing done of weekend days where I stay in bed late, even though I still end up with more free time than I'd have on a weekday, so if I want to write on a weekend I need to get up. Are there any times of day, or the days of the week, or the places where it is easier to write? What factors make it harder to write? Can you minimize those factors? When you can't, because you livelihood depends on them, can you acknowledge them as a fact of life and forgive yourself for being affected by them?

It's unpleasant but undeniable that working impacts writing. We aren't able to spend the time we'd like to on writing. We don't have the energy and focus that we had in school, when our writing was our main responsibility. Now our primary responsibility is making enough money to survive, and if that makes us sad to think about, well, it's only going to make us sadder if on top of that we try to hold ourselves to the amount of writing we'd do if that weren't true.

It isn’t strictly a numbers game where more time = more writing, which I think can be reassuring for those of us who don’t get as much time as we’d like for writing. I was unemployed or working part-time for the entirety of 2016 and I did not do more writing in 2016 than I am now. I had more time, but I was much more of a mess, as a person, and I wasn't as dedicated to writing. In a counter-intuitive way, I think it can help to have creative outlets besides writing. It does take time away from something that you already don’t get as much time as you want to do, but it means that you have a place to be creative even when the words aren't coming, a place with less pressure and lower stakes. I've done improv pretty casually for the last couple of years, and aside from the fact that I think improv in particular can be extremely helpful for writers, it means that when I've been unhappy with my writing, I could show up to improv and do a silly voice or shuffle around in a crabwalk and know that I had created something.

These are some things that have helped me write while also working: Improv. Mindfulness about writing. Mindfulness about life in general. Prioritizing my writing (guys, I watch so much less television than I used to). Therapy and medication, to be honest. Remembering why I am excited about the projects that I’m working on. Giving myself freedom to start new stories while also encouraging myself to finish old ones. Having an audience to share things with, because it is hard to write without knowing that anyone will ever read what you are pouring so much of yourself into.

It has taken me a few days to answer this, Anon, because I wanted to give a considered response, and also just because adult life! so busy! I keep coming back to the questions of whether I am emotionally satisfied with the writing I am doing, and whether I have a good balance between my writing and my work. Because I really think that I am creatively satisfied right now, and if I am mostly aware of that most of the time, I don't know that I'd really phrased it like that to myself before. If I had then I had forgotten it. And it's a powerful and wonderful thing to be able to say that to myself.

I have a degree in screenwriting, but I have never made a career of it and am not pursuing one now. The dream used to be writing for television. Before that the dream was to be a traditionally published author. Now...I don't know what the dream is. I would like to do original work again some day. I have a novel in my head that is very important to me, whose characters helped me get through some hard times, and I want to give that novel the life that it deserves. I would like to do something with my screenwriting degree at some point, although it will likely never make me money. Sometimes it feels like failure that I don't have a new dream, and that I gave up on the old ones. But for the most part, for now, I'm very happy writing fanfiction. I've written a lot of stories, particularly in the last few years, that I am very proud of.

But I don't actually have a good balance between art and work, inasmuch as my art makes me happy and my work...doesn't. I have a low-level office job in a field that I'm not passionate about or well-suited for. I don't get out of my job a lot of the things that I do get out of writing -- challenge, investment, a chance to be creative, self-direction, fulfillment, purpose. I have never worked a job where I got any of those things, and it is starting to wear me down.

To be fair: "my job pays me a decent wage and gives me great health insurance but it isn't satisfying" is a privileged thing to complain about, and I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that some people handle these situations just fine, that some people don’t mind a job that demands a minimum of energy and time since that leaves them more to put into their art. You may be one of these people! I am discovering that I am not. Getting no sense of accomplishment from my job contributes negatively to my overall mental and emotional health, which is sucky all on its own, but has the additional effect of impacting my writing.

It's a tricky problem, though. I don't, at present, want to make a living off of writing (and such a career would be precarious), but my current resume and skill set doesn't qualify me for much of anything besides the work I'm already doing (thanks, screenwriting degree). Any attempt to find a job that's more fulfilling would likely involve a big investment of time, money, and/or effort in some kind of school and training, and then...I'd be in a job that demanded more from me, and even if it made me happier than my current job does, how much would that leave me to put into my writing?

I don't know if any of this has been helpful to you. It is perhaps not a clear answer to a question that felt clear when I read it but that my mind muddled up along the way. You may find that once you hit a balance between writing and working, you don't mind the day job grind in the same way I do. You may decide that you do want to pursue writing as a career. You may still be figuring out the employment situation at all and my woes may be worse than irrelevant.

But the timing of this ask is funny; I am soon going to apply to an educational program that would prepare me for a new career in a totally different field, and the thought of how this will impact my writing has very much been on my mind. In the past when I've thought about doing anything like this, that question has kept me from going forward: won't that be less of your time, less of your energy, less of you for your writing? I think this is a real concern with a basis in truth: if I get into this program I am going to have a lot less time and energy for anything outside of it, and I will need to again adjust my expectations of what my writing can look like in my circumstances. But I think that this question is also fear and perfectionism talking, using my writing as a weapon against me, and I'm tired of it.

Balance is a funny thing. I'm actually terrible at basically anything that requires balance: biking, rollerskating, gymnastics, ice skating, you name it. I don't see how anyone pulls it off. You can lean too far one way only to fall over the other way when you try to even out. You can take a turn and suddenly the road is uphill or downhill or bumpy, and whatever you were doing before to stay upright isn't cutting it. You can be going along just fine and then, for absolutely no reason, you're wobbling all over the place. But you can also do a hell of a lot of wobbling without ever falling down.

I think it's just about...paying attention to what's happening around you. Paying attention to what you're feeling and what you want. Not getting fooled by something you're supposed to want if you don't actually want it. Figuring out the things that you need, and the things that would make your life better, and the things that you'd like, and prioritize those accordingly.

I sure hope that's how it works, at least, because that's all I've got. I might royally fuck up my life in the next couple of months, but if I do, I'll adjust and keep going. It can't be any worse than fucking ice skating.

Best of luck, Anon.

#writing #Anonymous

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punkinroses · 5 years ago

Text

Yugioh Season 4 Quotes Prompt Meme

I am stressed, tired, sick of my job and needing a brain break. Yugioh Abridged is my go to for that at the moment. So. Have a sentence meme thing. Feel free to reblog, change pronouns, etc. Go have fun kids. Be wild. Be gay. Do crime. Love you

“The whole saving the world thing really eats into your study time.” “But my teacher gave me, like, a bunch of gold stars! And an A+ in trying.” “I already know everything I need to know about mathematics from playing card games.” “I was also thinking about doing some of the drugs later.” “(name)’s hand is on fire!” “That sounds like a commotion! .......Yes. Definitely a commotion.” “Well, I’m sure the city can defend itself.” “Those neutral motherfuckers. I never cared for them.” “How the hell did you people get in my house!?” “I’m not sure I like the rich douchebag channel.” “We figured you had more of an emotional connection to these.” “Damnit, (name), we agreed I would do the monologuing.” “My spirit guide has once again served its purpose.” “It’ll be called the bitch ass retirement plan. Named after you, ya bitch ass!” “That’s some OP bullshit right there.” “Broseph...Brosephine...Bro DiMaggio.” “I’ve got shoulder pads!” “Now what are you gonna do, Bromeo and Juliet?” “It’s not often I get to hear the worst insult ever coined by a human being.” “Yeah, they once sucked out Channing Tatum’s soul as a joke.” “I have nothing else in my life, please!” “So you’re someone I haven’t seen in a really, really long time? .........Are you my parents??!!” “Stop abusing the concept of friendship!!” “You must have spent YEARS researching this! Even though you can find this exact information on the back of any Yu-Gi-Oh! DVD!” “King of doors, bitch!” “That’s two points for Middle Earth, zero points for (name).” “I was not prepared to watch this today.” “Okay, so, you’re a lost cause.” “If even one of you makes a Sharknado reference, I will end you so hard.” “Try this on for size, you Sauron-looking motherfucker!” “I thought we had an agreement! You agreed to not be a little bitch, but now you’re being a little bitch!” “Maybe they’ll take someone’s soul that we don’t care about this time.” “Goddamnit, you never help me, ever!!” “Alright, douchebags! I’m sick and tired of us not being on top!” “These meetings get fucking weird.” “How much more specific can I get? SOMEWHERE in CALIFORNIA.” “I wonder if there are card games on the moon.” “I knew it. This is just some cheap trick to get me to come see you, so you can hit on me with a bunch of cheap innuendos, isn’t it?” “And, to think, people call you a diluted egomaniac.” “That’s not possible! I’M the adorable one!” “For some reason, cruising for chicks has caused me to become severely injured.” “I would be so turned on if that wasn’t such a huge waste of trading cards.” “I’d like to spread some vegemite on those things.” “You left me on a blimp with a known psychopath, while I was in a coma, so you could go off and play video games.” “So, in other words, since we’ve never seen your balls drop, we can assume it hasn’t happened?” “My douche-senses are telling me that (name) is mocking me somewhere.” “Should I remind you to tell them to go fuck themselves when we get there?” “He will eat you with his crocodile face.” “Okay, did you have to include the part of the story where they insulted me?” “Hey, a sword! I can stab people with this!” “Seriously? That was your one Koala joke?” “Try believing in the heart of the cards.” “Quiet, you sorcerer.” “If you’re seeing this, (name), it either means I’m dead, leaving behind a very fabulous looking corpse, or my soul has been captured.” “Maybe it had something very kinky on it and 4Kids had to censor it.” “I’ll leave that up to the fanfic authors.” “I’ll write a highly unfavorable research paper about you! With inconclusive findings!” “I feel like I should be concerned, but I just can’t stop thinking about how Copernicus is such a stupid name for a horse.” “You know that thing takes people’s souls and I found it on a dead guy, right?” “That was acting, children! Bravo for me!” “According to my research, I’m in a crapload of pain.” “Learned that trick from playing Super Mario World.” “I’ll just be over here wibbling to myself. Please, pay me no mind.” “Okay, everyone. I’m going to go scream into a pillow for the next five minutes.” “Are you telling me that we can't build an elevator into space?! Because that sounds like something a guy who doesn't want to keep his job would say!” “And let me tell you one last thing. All those times I got angry and declared that I would have my vengeance on you: I WAS FAKING!” “I'm glad we spent all our money on this bag of potato chips and generic brand soda.” “By the way, I memorized several dozen dinosaur puns, just so I could use them in this.” “The only reunion that’s about to happen is my size ten up your buttocks!” “Dorō! Monsutā Kādo!” “You're right, (name). I lost control. At the end of the day, this is just a game.” “We’re going to disturb the spirits of the dead! Yay!” “What the fuck even is this season!?” “Won’t somebody fetch me some ice cream!?” “I’m old and I hold a stick. That automatically makes me the wisest person in the valley.” “It’s a good thing I played all that Assassin’s Creed!” “It’s a good thing I played all that Banjo Kazooie!” “Oh, thank God, because I really wasn’t listening to any of that. Any of it.” “Now, I have to go back down there and challenge that vulture to a card game.” “Okay, (name), I’m going to level with you; I may have lied about the pizza.” “It makes me look really bonkers cool while I kick the shit out of you.” “Actually, he says his name is Cornelius Jr. and he wants to play basketball, just like how his father wanted him to.” “You can talk to snakes!?” “Hey, are you sure it’s safe for us to fly straight into that strange weather phenomenon?” “I guess we’d better confront whatever villain of the week that is.” “Well, these buttons look important.” “We mostly get by using our street smarts and ingenuity.” “No, I'm mad because I never wanted to know what one of Hideo Kojima's wet dreams looked like, and now I do, so thanks for that.” “I swear on my life we didn't keep a single flying war machine of death.” “Well, it would be way more intimidating if its face wasn't so damn adorable.” “Yeah, they’re dead. Dibs on their crappy broken stuff!” “Did you guys notice that this episode had the exact same ending as Bee Movie?” “I'm also glad we're not going to Florida as it means that we are not going to Florida.” “OK, but wait! I'm almost to the part where we met two ghosts in the California desert who just happened to be related to the guy we're fighting. Oh God, you're right; it's all just bullshit, isn't it?” “Breaking stuff will fix it!” “I'm bi a lot of things, but lingual is not one of them.” “Welcome back, asshole.” “Hey (name), wanna reenact a scene from Back to the Future Part II?” “I'd rather throw myself off the roof.” “Damn you, Microsoft Flight Simulator!” “Yes, but you had to steal my catchphrase to do it! Is nothing sacred to you?” “That is the single most offensive thing anyone has ever said to me.” “OK, children, from now on, everybody uses the Buddy System. When I say "Go," I want you all to choose a buddy and form an everlasting and inseparable bond between them 'till death do you part. OK, go!” “(Name), remember, whatever happens, you mustn't become an evil little sh*thead.” “Suckers! Consider yourselves ditched.“ “Well if any other anime in existence has taught me anything, most of the drama tends to happen on...the roof.“ “Just my luck. Dork Fest continues.“ “No! It's got a scythe. The deadliest farming implement known to man.“ “This heavy-hearted metaphor was brought to you by Da, a subsidiary of Doy, Inc.” “OK, this is also total BS. When I came back from the dead, I didn't get a chorus of heavenly music and a light show.“ “It's a good thing I'm so buff or that fall would've killed me.“ “(Name), promise me you're not going to embarrass me in front of the U.S. Military.” “ Guys, I think we took a wrong turn, because I'm pretty sure this is the Chamber of Secrets.” “Those aren't Funko Pops! They're much more disturbing!” “Yeah, makes your measly five thousand years look like a five thousand years of being a bitch, bitch.“ “Okay, but why are we in space?” “I have no idea who that is. You are talkin' fucking crazy right now, man. Are you okay? Do you need water? How long were you in the desert for?“ “For the record, I was dressing up in suits of armor before it was cool.“ “(Name), this is like, the third time you've tried to murder one of my friends, stop it!” “Nah. As a teenager with unlimited access to the Internet, I get to do that every day.” “As I was saying, (name) is a damn handsome and valuable person. Thank goodness for them.” “They died as they lived... pissing me off.” “Okay, who let the posh shithead in here?” “I'm so happy you escaped the cold embrace of death so that I could experience your deathly cold embrace again!“ “Wow. My eBay sensors are tingling.“ “You know, we really have no idea where this portal will take us, but I have total confidence in this decision.“ “None of this matters to you! You're already dead! Blah, blah, blah, omae wa mou shindeiru.” “Glad we came all the way up here so that we could not know what was going on.“ “Does this mean I can take back all the nice things I said?“ “I'm not doing any of those things. I'm just enjoying being with you.”

#sentence prompt #rp prompt #rp prompts #writing prompts #writing prompt #sentence prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #writing memes #ygotas #ygotas season 4 #ygotas memes

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 4 years ago

Text

“Why” tags are going here because Tumblr’s a baby who can’t handle all these words at once. :P

Why:

#but i spent my whole life absolutely CONVINCED that wings belonged on my body. it just... tok me a good long while to figure out Why.

#Oh THAT'S why everyone's freaking out over that post.

#at first I was like ''Wow this is Srentha to the core!'' And then I read ''why this unreasonable answer at the sight

#honestly this is why i'm basically addicted to empty-mind meditation?

#??? why do people do these awful things to Good People though

#i don't know how or why and i don't remember ever having Learned about That Letter? but my mind automatically knew it was 'hath' somehow

#Of course that DOES beg the question of why a LORd of CHAOS doesn't... you know. CHANGE it? ??

#first of all: REM WHY ARE YOU COMING to OHIO of all places???

#okay but. randy how did they MEET what's the STORY why are they HATING on TEXAS

#or like. a Sarcastic Joke because cyborg was once like ''why aren't you miss mary sunshine''?

#''What are you DOING. You RUN. ALWAYS RUN.'' and i was like. ''why bother getting into adventures if you're gonna RUN though..''

#I don't know why but I always score better on Customer Service Questionaires when I choose responses like ''I'm sorry

#i've never seen that still before and I CAN;T FATHOM WHY because that is FANTASTIC!

#I don't know why but ''novice suddenly ends up with super incredibly powerful abilities'' is one of my FAVORITE TROPES!

#I have no idea how/why but these just gave me Massive Leyla and Srentha Feels.

#my usual turnaround time for Dreams to Real Life is about two weeks. not sure why but it happens to like 7 people in my immediate family

#Especially with the bells. I don't know why but bells always remind me of that place. ~<3

#Nobody intrinsically knows how to solve problems that hurt another person. That's why COMMUNICATION is so important!

#also: Good Post re: Why Danny is So Actually-Great

#why does everyone spell ''bear with me' like that?

#i know right? Why did I never think of that??

#why do i love this so much

#that's basically why Evanescence became my favorite band. it's not all romo-/sexually-centric

#i've always read it the same way and didn't notice Why Everyone Stopped Liking Her but that also brought that particular Change to light...

#groans eternally in Tumblr's direction. why even bother with all these updates.

#Oh THAT'S why Eda could do glyphs! /joke

#thaaaat's probably why Fancie Word Choice has always been a strength in my writing.... {lD;;;;;

#velvet and sheer... why have I never seen that combination before? It's GLORIOUS

#That's probably why he's so good at spontaneous Travelling too. Lots of practice when trying to find her... /owo

#This is why House and Senate votes count though! The President may have a lot of control over the military but a strong H+S

#I know MC Escher was a master of this (whatever This is) and that's why he's one of my favorite artists.

#okay but I'm intensely curious why he didn't have a plan to take HIMSELF out and thought he'd have to rely on THEM dsfndsgmfhdgj

#I wonder why he'd need to attack/defend while shifted? Can he also use such magic when he's not shifted?

#but I think that variety is why her every new album is so refreshingly Different. Her singing ALONE improves so MUCH with every album!

#the only difference is that I imagined the fire came with smoke and that's why her gasp was so strangled and she grabbed her throa

#honestly this is why i'm basically addicted to empty-mind meditation?

#i'm cleaning my room and i misplaced it. badfnmkngjf;lk this is why i hate cleaning

#but scenes like this are why i love DC's latest gen of animated movies

#that Friends As Family theme was super important to why i love the 80's comics too..........

#this is why i read fanfic

#i think she feels slighted in some way but i can't pinpoint Exactly Why let alone HOW.

#and it's like.. Halfo f why lapis's characterization is so Shaky for me? Because the girl barely talks??? And she has like 7 Speech Modes

#^^^^ GUYS THIS WAS ALERINA. This is the environment Dove was raised in! This is why losing her mother tore her apart! ^^^^^

#This is so so SO important and delves deeply into why language is so important for learners and general humanity alike. ~<333

#that's why my tag for Old People Stories isn't specific to any generation. it's just Shitty Adults Being Shitty

#I write primarily about OCs and I know that's why my readership is so low. I write stories for a Dead Fandom that has declined sharply.

#you know? so that's why my Affirmations Tag is like 60% Steven UniversE Content at this point. 8F It's Helping Me Learn!

#It's a CIRCADIAN THING not an INSOMNIA THING. I don't know why my doctors don't believe it's NOT the same as INSOMNIA

#oh is THAT why my love language is ''all of them''?

#and i hardcore headcanon ry ouwearing glasses when he gets older. so why not?

#i Suck at the aCTUAL DRAWING art but i'm i na bit of a fallow period with the org and personal life. so why not?

#i'm already planning an aviary for the doves. so why not? (they'd be Very Separate from teh raven though. for obvious reasons)

#let's add to the Emotional Whiplash of Today pile. sure! why not!!

#but i got the dvd and i have vlc so why not use them i guess? i already had it in the drive for the extras and this way there's .....

#She can hop dimensions so why on Earth-- ALL the Earths-- hasn't she Been Relevant to ANY multi-timeline crisis yet???

#yes of fucking COURSE Dove and the rest are in Team Transition too!! Why on Earth-- on ANY earth! wouldn't I transition them too?!

#so why on earth did danny chase get shafted so hard?????

#about WHY or if she's GONNA be OKAY or HOW or--

#So gentle and soft and concerned and really quite quiet and subtle... which might be why others didn't pick up on the Love Vibe

#but the last one I reblogged didn't have that specified! 8O i don't know why one of my special interests is Unusual Instruments

#why WOULDN'T you snog a snitch if it could bring your dead loved ones back though? Why on Earth WOULDN'T you???

#but it's about ''they're very different. but they're friends!'' It just never talks about why or how that's important.

#(i think that's her full name for some reason but i don't know why or when i heard/saw it. somebody please correct me if i'm wrong!)

#I must be an Asker. I've never understood why people are so convinced they Can't Say No if someone asks?

#i also think PTSD makes you react to fear Differently from Pure Adrenaline Responses... but i can't unravel Why right now

#And also at the time I couldn't fathom why someone would think she was autistic. because i didn't know myself

#god this foreshadowing was just. so sincere and heart-rending and when this episode came out I *DID* wonder why she'd say that...

#I'm STILL trying to figure out why Srentha thought Dove was confessing that she has heartworm. (i know she Does Not in fact

#at first I was like ''Wow this is Srentha to the core!'' And then I read ''why this unreasonable answer at the sight

#i can't figure out why though

#If my Harmony Core theory is correct: it would explain why they're playing their music So Hard.

#the fact that my first reaction was ''why though'' is..... concerning?

#raven's like How? Why The HELL. and dove doesn't have a good answer besides ''it felt like i needed it.''

#fun fact: i misread this as ''zatana zatara / MICHIGAN '' and i was like... ''why the fUCK--''

#i don't know why there's all this fanart of

#and also sugar skulls are delightful but you should really know what they MEAN and REPRESENT and WHY they're sweet and flamboyant

#if someone is passionate; angry; or distressed over a topic: She doesn't always understand WHY until they EXPLAIN it. If they do at all.)

#oh hey why was THAT line never a meme

#this is why we need

#but that doesn't make it any less FRUSTRATING because I've been wORKING THROUGH the pptsd and why won't it STOP?

#(because that's why we have to pay for everything from movies to individual channels now. let's be real)

#i've never understood why winter and fall were the only ~fashionable~ seasons for wearing black.

#I mean to be FAIR some of the government DID mobilize and that's why we got the Stimulus Bill.

#But DC... this bullshit is why we can't have nice things

#and as soon as I looked it up: y first thought was ''Oh is that why we call them Abner?'' My second was ''Is that what *I* am?''

#also if you're as powerful as zee it probably comes second-nature so why WOULDN'T you throw it around to stop an argument?

#okay but if SPINEL doesn't know then how/why would BLUE know

#what? no i didn't just stare at this for a solid two minutes and read it over five times. no.. why would I do that?

#that's because it's not ''cool'' to hate on it so why would it be ''cool'' to like it ironically?

#why WOULDN'T you snog a snitch if it could bring your dead loved ones back though? Why on Earth WOULDN'T you???

#but it's not like a ragey angry thing. it's like........ war of attrition? why yes i think i WILL sign the 47th petition for the same thing

#over and over again and rewound and replayed until i got the whole spell written down. why YES I'm a little hyperfixated! why do you ask!!!

#tag game #rhs blog

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