#this is the most inspiration ive had in YEARS ill tell you that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

her-power · 11 months ago

Text

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today.

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently.

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago.

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard.

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her.

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is.

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.”

“Is that all?”

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.”

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down.

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.”

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.”

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.”

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do.” I tell her.

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about.

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties?

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot.

Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school. I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class. I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write. I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could. I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season.

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums.

Please don’t feel obligated, though.

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number.

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply.

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose.

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill.

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight.

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show.

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching.

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans.

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.”

“What?” She snaps.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head.

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar. I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself.

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta. I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money?

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins.

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap. It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice. I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips.

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed.

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink.

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.”

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” He asks me.

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?”

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it.

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up.

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking.

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can.

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?”

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over.

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing.

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now?

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?”

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.”

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.”

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?”

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well.

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot.

My phone dings and I see your name pop up. Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people.

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled.

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip.

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole.

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern.

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you.

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you.

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee.

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly.

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.”

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert.

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them.

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?”

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.”

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch.

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away.

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down.

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?”

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.”

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another.

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly.

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying.

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love.

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.”

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?”

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.”

Heart exploding.

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?”

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.”

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you.

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?”

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee.

Yeah, I missed you too.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #rockstar eddie munson #Spotify

101 notes · View notes

jaemified · 1 year ago

Text

world of my own - kwon soonyoung

track 001 - “you ever wonder what couldve happened if what hadnt happened, happened?”

pairing ; best friends kwon soonyoung x fem reader

genre ; romance, (kinda?) angst, unreciprocated love, starcrossed lovers, right person wrong time, multiverse, very very VERY vaguely inspired by alice in wonderland (and kindaa in a way wandavision)

warnings ; swearing, y/n daydreams a lot, too little too late 😞😞

wordcount ; 1.2k

synopsis ; in a place which you fall into your own dreamland with the one who was meant to be the love of your life, the discussion gets highly theoretical (and not to mention, emotional)

note - counterfactual thinking whoo cz im minoring in econ wooo

read below the cut !

youd be lying if you said you hadnt thought of him in that way.

i mean, how could you not?

kwon soonyoung. he’s perfect inside and out. such a sweetheart, kindest person you’d ever met.

but, he had been rather distant lately.

it was almost a miracle he reached out to you.

of course, you were curious as to why, especially since it was so out of the blue. but you held your tongue.

so, he called you out to your favorite park, sitting under the big willow tree you two always spent the summers under when you were much younger, counting the stars and watching the hours tick by.

the tree was so old now, seeing as it had been around long before both of your guys’ parents were.

soonyoung jumped up from his spot to greet you with a nice hug, “glad you came.” he said as he pressed his lips into a smile.

“course i did. we’re meant to stay together arent we?”

he sat down on the blanket which lined up with the old tree trunk, resting his back up against it.

a few moments of silence passed before you spoke up.

“why did you call me here?” you queried as you examined the tree, brushing your fingers over the now faint initials both you and soonyoung carved into the trunk.

“just wanted to spend time with you, genuinely. i know ive been distant and i can’t make up for the time wasted, but i can end the pattern now, you know.”

“id doubt you’d call me here of all places just to ‘talk’.” you scoffed.

“just missed you is all.” he mumbled as he pulled you into a side hug, letting his head rest in the space between your shoulder and neck.

“missed you too. more than youd realize.” you replied back, keeping the last bit to yourself.

though you grew distant despite being inseparable until two years ago, you could never grow a grudge against him.

so you thought.

but, here you two were. spending the day talking under that same tree just like how you spent most of your childhood.

you caught each other up through a recap of your last few years, until sundown, when soonyoung asked of a pretty theoretical question.

“you ever wonder what couldve happened if what hadnt happened, happened?”

you stared blankly at him, blinking mindlessly.

you were still like that for a good few seconds, before muttering a quick “what?”.

“do you ever think about what couldve happened if things were different between us?” he rephrased.

“oh. as much as id hate to admit it, i do. or did. imagining about what could and couldnt be. but the past is in the past, and what happened can’t be undone.” you explained to soonyoungs curious eyes.

“what did you imagine we could’ve been?” he asked so nonchalantly, with little to no hesitation required.

“what?”

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?” soonyoung asked once more.

“i..” you droned off.

“you don’t have to answer now,” he began with a soothing voice, “just think about it. and tell me what happens when we wake up.”

with that, soonyoung laid his back directly onto the ground with his folded up sweater to act as a pillow.

he pulled you to rest on his chest, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.

you tried getting up, only to be pulled back down. “soonyoung..”

“please? stay with me just this once.”

“i have to go.”

“just one more time before i have to leave for good? i don’t know when ill get to see you next. i don’t know where we’ll stand after today.”

you sighed in defeat, before sitting back down and resting into soonyoungs chest once more.

“just this once..” you mumbled, before drifting off into your indefinite state of slumber.

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?”

soonyoungs words continuously ran across your mind, coursing through your thoughts endlessly, even in your sleep.

you were always quite the heavy sleeper, it was no wonder your dreams were always so realistic you slept the way you did.

you were much aware of the multiverse, as was soonyoung. the topic alone always intrigued you, the possibility of endless scenarios playing out in your mind; and the fact they could be real, yet only in another universe

the thought of dreaming in this world while being awake in another terrified you, but intriguing in the same sense.

every time you drift off into an indefinite slumber, you realize how much you’ve taken for granted in life after seeing the cruel reality thats shown only through dreams, watching your greatest desires be taken out of your reach every time you awake.

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?”

the words repeated over an over throughout the duration your dream. a good one, but too vivid, it was almost cruel the feeling you felt once you realized it wasnt real.

you and soonyoung were the perfect couple. you were happy and it seemed nothing could go wrong, you were in a serious, long lasting, and healthy relationship.

everything was perfect, it was everything you could ever ask for and more.

he was everything you could ask for and way more.

you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy.

however, that would only happen in a world of your own.

a world where you could be happy.

30 notes · View notes

microcosme11 · 1 year ago

Text

Letter to 13-year-old Hortense

Quartier général, Milan, 22 prairial an IV [10 juin 1796]

J’ai reçu votre aimable lettre au milieu des horreurs de la guerre. Il n’est rien de plus charmant que ce qui me rappelle le souvenir d’aimables enfants que j’aime pour eux et parce qu’ils appartiennent à la personne du monde qui m’intéresse le plus.

Vous êtes une méchante et très méchante. Vous voulez me mettre en contradiction. Sachez donc, aimable Hortense, que lorsque l’on dit du mal des hommes l’on s’expose.

Lorsque l’on dit du mal des femmes, l’on excepte celles dont les charmes et la douce influence a captivé notre cœur et absorbé tous nos sentiments… Et puis, vous le savez bien, votre maman est incomparable sur la terre, personne ne joint à son inaltérable douceur ce je-ne-sais-quoi qu’elle inspire à tout ce qui l’entoure. Si quelque chose pouvait ajouter au bonheur que j’ai de lui appartenir, c’est les doux devoirs qu’il m’impose à votre égard. J’aurai pour vous les sentiments de père et vous aimerai comme votre meilleur ami… Mais je suis fâché contre vous, contre votre bonne maman, elle m’avait promis de venir me voir et elle ne vient pas. Le temps est long loin de ce que l’on aime. Jugez du plaisir que j’aurais réhaussé à vous voir, à discuter avec vous et à vous conter des histoires terribles. Une petite part dans votre souvenir. Un baiser à Eugène à qui je dois écrire. Croyez-moi pour la vie.

Vôtre

Bonaparte

P.S. Vous devez avoir reçu la petite boite de parfums. Je vous rapporterai cent belles choses.

---

Headquarters, Milan, 22 prairial year IV [June 10, 1796]

I received your kind letter amidst the horrors of war. There is nothing more charming than that which reminds me of lovely children whom I love for themselves and because they belong to the person in the world who interests me the most.

You are bad, very bad. You want to contradict me. Please know, kind Hortense, that when we speak ill of men we expose ourselves.

When we say bad things about women, we except those whose charms and gentle influence have captivated our hearts and absorbed all our feelings… And then, you know well, your mother is incomparable on earth, no one joins unalterable sweetness with the je ne sais quoi that she inspires in everything around her. If anything could add to the happiness I have in belonging to her, it is the sweet duties she imposes on me towards you. I would have the feelings of a father for you and would love you as your best friend… But I am angry with you, with your good mother; she promised to come to see me and she is not coming. It’s a long time away from those we love. Judge the pleasure I would have had seeing you, talking with you and telling you terrible stories. A small part in your memory. A kiss to Eugène to whom I should write. Trust me for life.

Your

Bonaparte

P.S. You should have received the small box of perfumes. I will bring you a hundred beautiful things.

napoleonica

#Napoleon's correspondence #hortense de beauharnais

26 notes · View notes

thesugarhole · 1 year ago

Text

sanrio?? hello??

violin* and obsessed with money???? since when??? i mean. alright. i can give the violin to him AND cherry but its like, very barely there violin??

me to the sanrio ceo: "berry is violin" shut up if youve seen the stuff kuromi circa 2006 used to do youd hurl

also i dont think wallet status has ever been mentioned about these guys... in any media/franchise. they live in an abandoned looking mansion for the halloween aesthetic, not because of money. i can believe 'obsessed with money' but not 'poor'

hoping its either just google mistranslations or some recent developments ive been blissfully unaware of

>cinnamon

>her

its mistranslations. also this is personal headcanoning time based on how often the confusion happens but man you cant do this to cinnamon notorious trans man icon cinnamon. if he doesnt mind it then ill mind it for him djkhfdksj 'cherry is competitive and selfish' is correct btw this has always been her description. well maybe not competitive but definitely selfish. iirc it was always around "berry is stubborn cherry is selfish and theyre both tsundere" genuinely dont know where violin came from its gotta be a mistranslation on the nuisanse/stubborn aspect. i also dunno where 'weakness is strong-willed girls' came from, it might be talking about his friendship with cherry and how he might given in easier to what she tells him (at least i choose to think so) so i got no comment on it

all the pronouns being mismatched is so funny man come on shjfhdgfdsjvfdsjv is this profile using some sort of neutral language that left google confused as hell?

i. uh? should i be worried about espresso?

this ones... correct? espresso is more of a culture savant than a celebrity.... anyway berry if you kick him out there will be no one there to make you the food you love

nope! its magic and mirror manipulation. pranking is their hobby and favorite pass time but their magic is not limited to just the -its joke- context (sorry to once again quote the worst season ever of OMM, but they both tried to help out bakus family by making a photo of food they had emit scent, so the family would have an easier time eating plain rice. no jokering no jestering no clowning no malicious behavior whatsoever).

i remember being mentioned in older descriptions that berry had some potion making proficiency but they havent focused in that in years so who cares now amirite. i dont remember if cherry had any sort of distinction like this, theyve always overfocused on her crush on espresso :pensive:

"what about cherry"

"who? oh idk write smth about espresso again"

(hobbies include PRANKS, attempting to make friends (a general trait) making music (2018 rankings), having ballroom parties (cinnamon trip!! by oster project) and watching sentai/magical girl anime (onegai my melody). berrys particular hobby is to mess with cinnamon, cherrys particular hobby is to go after espresso. i guess.) (but again most of these are old one offs, and currently unfocused aspects of theirs so. whatever)

also i really would like to know the plans about the alt designs for them that are technically their true form and always show in their shadows and (sometimes?) in mirror reflections. it hasnt been completely dropped but, its never been hard defined either so idk. i guess i feel a bit bummed that its also been attempted to be forgotten to time because (to me feel at least) it feels very obviously based on the episode kuromi turned herself into a human and it could be something they were trying to establish to devil inspired characters back then.

thanks for coming to the lloromannic autism hour its nice to think about something else other than current personal events sometimes

*censorship

#sugar.txt #sanrio #lloromannic #cherry #berry #cinnamon #cinnamoroll #kuromi #onegai my melody #baku

20 notes · View notes

patrickispinky · 19 hours ago

Text

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2021

I got a lot of inspiration and motivation from @whoopsyeahokay series called October Sun if you haven't read it yet I recommend you do its amazing, you can find it on tumblr and Ao3.

(This is very self indulgent and based on things ive been through and how I could have very easily ended up as a ghost. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness. This is a judgment free zone so I want no bullying or hate on anyone. I'm not the best writer so be nice)

1.9k Words

Enjoy :)

Two days, two fucking days you’ve been rotting and no ones come to find you. Well no one alive at least.

It started off normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another boring school day with the same washed out boring people. Tired eyes and even more tired souls. So what changed? A little slip up on the same thing that had almost claimed your life many times over the years except this time no one was there to save you.

You were 14 when you first learned the only way for your brain to stop spinning, trying to find a new way to obtain peace was with a very simple little thing. Weed, this wasn't what was deadly, no it was what started the cycle. First it was weed, then it was alcohol, then it was late night parties, until one day it fell into the palm of your hand. A simple little pill, how could it cause so much damage? Things were fine until one pill turned into two then two turned into three and then you ended up on the patio of a stranger's porch foaming out the mouth. 4 days in the hospital and 2 weeks in rehab was enough to scare you for a while, but not enough to make you forget about the relief that came with it.

That's how you ended up here, sitting in a circle sharing stories about life and death, a group of highschool boys who had no idea you were even there, playing basketball behind you. Should have just gone to group like you were told to, at least then you would have been with people who understood addiction. Now judgmental eyes fall upon you because you caused your own death. As much as you wanted to find someone, something to blame you knew you couldn't, this was your fault. The spinning hasn't stopped. At least ghosts couldn't go through withdrawal, doesn’t change the fact that the empty feeling you tried so desperately to fill is more presint than ever.

The sweet voice of Mr.Martin fills the room. Like white nose until you heard him call your name. Head shooting up to look up at him. “Have you started working on your obituary?” Ah yes, ghost homework. you would have never thought that you would have been asked to write your own obituary yet here we are. Not as easy as it sounds.

“I’ve got some ideas” Like when you got so drunk you threw up on your friends cat, or when you were so high that your brother convinced you the plane flying over your house was a UFO, fun memories. Apparently you were supposed to write about the good parts of your life but that's kinda hard when the only good memories you had were caused by what put you in this situation to begin with.

“Take your time, if you need to im sure some of the others wouldn't mind telling you about what they wrote, for motivation.” You give a simple nod, wanting all the prying eyes around you to look away. And they do, except a certain pair that had been watching you since you got here.

Wally Clark, a sweet boy, bright future, died to soon like everyone else in this fucked up version of your own personal hell. He asked too many questions, it wasn't a secret how you died, just something you didn't want to talk about. He respected that, like most of the others, most. Doesn't stop him from prying, staring with curious eyes.

“I think that's all for today, don't forget tomorrow's movie night as always our newest member will be picking the movie.” You give an awkward smile before standing up and turning to leave along with the rest of the group. Heavy footsteps creeping up behind you and the sound of your name being called stops you as the tall boy catches up.

“So um do you need help with your obituary? not to brag but I think I did a pretty good job on mine.” Wally was quite attractive, tall, with big brown eyes, and slick back brown fluffy hair. No doubt having made girls fawn over him during his lifetime. You and him weren't exactly friends but the idea of having a little help writing… well, a self obituary wasn't bad.

“Sure, we could go to the library.” An excited grin grew on Wallys face, not expecting you to say yes.

“Yeah, yeah the library sounds great” It was kinda cute how he acted sometimes. Not like a typical jock, a pure golden retriever.

“Cool” You stand there kinda awkwardly, hands in the pockets of your red zip up hoodie as you gave him an expecting look.

“Oh like now?” He was somehow the most confident yet most awkward person in the world. “Um okay yeah that works”

You tilt your head sideways towards the door leading out the gym, indicating for him to follow you out. Taking the lead and making your way out, opening the door for him. “Ladies first” He let out a small chuckle at your attempt at a joke, considering it was the first time you really talked to anyone since everything happened. It wasn't that you didn't like people, you just didn’t understand the point of friends. It might sound depressing but having a small group of people that you know will stick around is better than hanging around people that barely know you. Yet here you are, stuck with strangers for eternity or until you finally move on, however long that’ll take.

The hallway was filled with loud teens, some rushing to their next class others going out the back door, more than likely skipping. “So how does this work?” You look over at him.

“What? The afterlife?” He looks at you, a little nervous. “I don’t think im the best person to explain it to you, that's more of Charley's thing.” Charley was sweet, the first person you met when you woke up. Some sort of after life guide.

“No, a self obituary.” The words felt weird coming out your mouth. “I know I'm supposed to write about all the great things in life but I don't think huffing nitrous in my uncles bathroom on thanksgiving really counts as a good memory.”

“Nitrous? like the shit in whipped cream?” He gave you a sideways look, a concerned but humored smile on his face.

“Yes, the shit in whipped cream, I don't recommend. I passed out and almost had a seizure.” As we reach the library he opens the door, allowing you to go in first.

“Okay, maybe don’t include that in your obituary, how about” He thought for a second. “Write about your friends and family, I'm sure you have some good memories with them.”

You let out a frustrated sigh as you sat down at a table, Wally sitting down across from you as you take off your backpack, pulling a pencil and the folder Mr.Martin had given you. “That's too much work, do you think Mr.Martin would notice if I just copied yours?” Wally laughs a little, his straight white teeth showing.

“No, he’ll totally believe that you played football and lost your virginity in your moms car.” Now you’re the one laughing, his sentence coming out way too casually.

“You lost your virginity in your moms car?” You take a few seconds to process before you look at him judgmentally. “You included how you lost your virginity?” Though the smiles’ still apparent on your face.

“Happy memories, remember?” And there's the jock attitude you were waiting for, somehow a bit surprising but not unexpected. “You could just write your feelings.” You have a whole journal for that from when you got sober… soberish.

“This may come as a shock to you but I'm not exactly a feelings person.” Not totally true, it was just easier to not feel anything at all, especially with the situation you're in right now.

“Really? I couldn't tell” The sarcastic tone in his voice very apparent. “Alright fine, if you were happiest when you were high then it's worth writing.”

“Great, so high stories, got it” Though it wasn't the best idea, you had to write something so Mr.Martin would get off your ass about it. Reminiscing was a slippery slope, you were holding up decently so far but contrary to what all the others think it hurt deep down. “How about the first time I tried molly?” Probably one of the best ‘happy pills’ you tried in your lifetime.

“What was it like?” He clearly had no intentions of finding out first hand, just curious of the experience.

“It made me really aware but like in a good way.” There was no real way to describe it without going into depth. “And kinda trippy I guess, does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He knew he could never truly understand, no one could unless they experienced it themselves. As you begin to jot down the memory Wally peaks over, looking at the page though it's not very useful due to the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to read upside down.

“Nosey” You laugh a little at his attempt to get to know you better. “You know if you want to get to know me, maybe there are better ways to do it then helping me write my own obituary” Yep, still didn't sound right.

“Oh um yeah, this is probably a really weird first hang out.” He laughs awkwardly at the realization that this is still new to you. It wasn't like he had never been around a new ghost before, he knew he was supposed to be slow, supportive, ease them into it but with the way you acted sometimes made him think you were more used to this than he was. In a way you were, death was something that you had imagined so many times so when it actually came the idea of being trapped wasn't one you hadn't thought of before. “How about after we're done with this I could take you down to the pool?”

You smile, the sentiment was sweet. “Thanks, but I don't know how to swim.” You were never taught and it didn't seem important in life so you just never learned. The surprised look on Wallys face was priceless.

“How the hell are you 18 and don’t know how to swim?” It wasn't judgmental, just a little surprised, but the grin on his face indicated that he had an idea.

“Oh god, what are you thinking about?” You knew what was coming, he wouldn't be him if he didn’t jump at the opportunity to help a new friend. Wally was very readable and you didn’t know if that was a good thing yet.

“I could teach you.” And there it was, of course he wanted to teach you. “It could be fun, plus you don't have much else to do.”

“You know what fuck it, you’re right there isnt shit else to do.” Especially with your body still laying cold in the old abandoned locker rooms aka ‘the brain cave’.

“Great, you should keep writing, the faster you get it over with the less weird it feels.” And that's how it started, you were never the friend type but as much as you hated to say it you needed someone. Sure that someone is very attractive and the idea of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks was a nice image but who could blame you? The afterlife is lonely.

#school spirits #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark fanfiction #wally clark x gender neutral reader #fanfiction #first fanfic #school spirits x reader #milo manheim #milo mannheim #zed necrodopolis #nico alexander #Ben plunkett #x reader #x female reader #reader insert #Sex Drugs Etc

2 notes · View notes

shooks-stupid-stuff · 9 months ago

Text

one thing that's been bothering me for a few years now is how i basically have 2 types of ocs: ones that are pretty much entirely original, and ones that are very obviously inspired by media i like. it's that second category that's been bothering me, and i just... feel the need to finally put it into words.

it's no secret that i'm incredibly passionate about the media and characters i like, especially if you're someone that knows me closely and/or talks to me a lot. so sometimes when making ocs i just go 'ooh i should make one that's like this character i like', and i think that's normal. characters people like often have traits they find to be interesting, and those traits can easily be spun in many different ways.

however, there are quite a good chunk of my ocs that i think are a bit too... derivative. and i have no clue how to make them not feel that way, both because me and my friends who i do oc stuff with all already know what the inspirations were and because i feel way too attached to make any major changes.

it kinda started as a joke. a few years back when i was in an active rp community (a story for another time (never)), and thought 'hey it'd be funny if i made some ocs that were just bootleg touhou characters since all my friends know im obsessed with the series lol' (this was technically not the first time i had done something like this, but the previous characters had very rapidly separated themselves from their inspirations in all but general appearance and/or color scheme). and so i did. and it was great, i had a lot of fun taking them and spinning them in a different direction, trying to subvert the mold i had made them from.

however. i quickly began to feel just... really conflicted about these characters. i REALLY liked them, and i still do, i think some of them are some of my most fun characters, but... can i really call them my characters when they're so heavily inspired by something else? even if they're different enough, it didn't matter. you could still tell (or i could, at least). and i couldn't bring myself to massively change anything about them because... they were already cemented into my mind. it felt wrong.

even now, having redesigned basically all the characters i have that fit into this category at least once i just... can't help but feel conflicted about most of them. and i kind of can't escape doing this, even with new ocs (example: i recently made a character based off of a japanese mythological figure, and all i could think about when designing them was the touhou character also based off of that mythological figure... and it definitely shaped the design a lot).

i... don't know what point im trying to make here. or if this is even coherent, or something i should be all too concerned about at all, or something other people have even noticed.

i guess what im trying to say is i was gonna post some redesigns ive been working on for like two weeks but im kinda too scared to because i feel like all the characters are very obviously derivative and it's making me feel really... well, conflicted.

oh, and quick clarification because this just occurred to me as i was about to hit post: this has nothing to do with the thing i was doing around mid last year where i was making actual bootleg touhou/len'en characters. that's for something else, and those are supposed to be very obvious spoofs and are not actual ocs. i am still working on those i prommy, ill get around to the few in my ask box/commented on that post eventually.

#i do have some new ocs ill probabaly post in a bit but #bleh. idk maybe im overthinking this but #i genuinely would like some feedback from people on this #especially people who aren't really close friends/i didn't really tell

10 notes · View notes

ma-mariarie243 · 11 months ago

Text

2023 SUMMARY OF ART!!

The year is almost over, so to celebrate ill show the history of my art throughout this year!!

As you can see, my art has improved a lot hehe

Under the cut will be the full pieces, along with my thoughts on them (this will be long)

JANUARY

my first art of 2023, i really like it. It shows my improvement. During this time, i was learning to draw more anime-like things. I took great inspiration from shizu (or is it shidu?), the main artist for the kagerou project music videos/light novels. This is marry kozakura in her medusa form.

FEBRUARY

my hiyori obsession started rising. Anyway i like this drawing a lot (in a sense that ive improved much). I had a dialogue playing in my head "goodbye hibiya.." while drawing this for some reason (wow i havent said hibiya in a while..). I think about this one often.

MARCH

ENE!!! This pose is from "INTERNET OVERDOSE" by Aiobahn which i had an obsession over at the time. I didint really have a good coloring style during these times but it does feel good to look back at it sometimes. Ene was really my confort character during this time, i ♡ her

APRIL

As you can tell, this isint finnished. This was supposed to be of my oc kokuta and my bestie raine's oc azalea. There have been changes to kokutas design lol (this is also the first time i did side profile.

MAY

this wasnt finished either lol. This is my girl adachi from adachi and shimamura. I really identify with her so i wanted to try drawing her. It never got finished though, and im sad that it didn't

JUNE

haruka!! my boy haruka!!! He is really important to me and i decided to draw him during this time. The hand is surprisingly good?!! I was trying to learn hands during this time. I still used the blur tool wich, i dont think was the best opinion lol

JULY

this is my original character called Undead Angel. I tried to experiment with different color and shading techniques and materials (i used the watercolor brush) I was also expirimenting with undead's design hehe.

AUGUST

this was my kagerou day drawing (aka august 15th). I was using a new drawing program for this one. I drew actor (or takane enomoto) for this drawing hehe. I like how it turned out tbh

SEPTEMBER

for this drawing, i drew marry kozakura again. I also exprimented with another coloring style for this one 😎. I really love how the pose turned out, as that was what i was trying to focus on.

OCTOBER

this was a drawing of one of my friend's deamon slayer oc aijurou. It was a gift for her but i never got to finish it. I was also trying a different shading, highlighting meathod.

NOVEMBER

my crystal p obsession began, so i tried my hand at drawing the illustration of rb but in my style. I really love this one. I really love how len turned out hehe, i was very unsure of how he would turn out.

DECEMBER

My most recent drawing. This is the version without the effects. I love how i drew the backround and i love how i drew len. I like kaito but he looked kind of off to me 😕. The side profile for len brings me joy i love how i drew him so much. Im going to be proud of this one for a while.

#my art #art recap #2023 art summary #vocaloid #kagamine len #art #kaito vocaloid #kagerou project #marry kozakura #hiyori asahina #adachi sakura #original character #takane enomoto #ene enomoto #haruka kokonose #i ♡ my art

7 notes · View notes

minheeskitten · 1 year ago

Note

"2k is long" is also nonsense i'm so sorry 😭 2k is barely anything if you're trying to introduce an AU and actually flesh in a setting and especially if you're trying to show different personality traits 😭 your fic are mostly AUs with really well thought out lore, and it needs the word count to breathe and establish everything. if someone's attention span is too short to read more than - what - 2 pages? that's their problem, not yours! fwiw, my fic lengths range with the shortest starting at around 5k and the longest getting close to 30k and i have never had anyone leave a complaint about the length! people are more than willing to sit through 10k+ just to get to the smutty stuff, and they usually end up enjoying the rest of the fic as well. do not worry about it! you're doing just fine 🩷

I don't often look at the length of a fic unless im updating someone on how long its getting. My shortest wip is 100 words. And. Ive posted it to here bcs i feel it'll never be finished.

If it does get finished eventually then i will post it as a fic but. Until then it sits in my drafts.

My fics almost always include worldbuilding to at least 3k now. Though not all of them were like that.

Do you want in on a secret? I don't think out the world for my aus. It fleshes itself out. I think on what may happen n go from there. The story writes itself. I am just a vessel for the words and visions.

I am absolutely terrible at worldbuilding if im doing it consciously.

Its why i have visible headcanons for idols. But i just can't put them into words haha.

The most i think through is 'what sort of details would enhance this and make it better to read'

And then thats where i go from!

Siren!ivan was originally supposed to be more non-con than it is rn. The consent is not proper consent tho but thats bcs. Well. Siren wants what he wants and he will convince dann to give it to him.

Though. Thats a little bit of a spoiler. It is going to be tagged accordingly. Don't worry ill tag fics right.

The fic i thought through the most, probably is one ive not even started wtiting. The dissection fic. I gotta do all sorts of research so i can make sure its accurate and well done.

Which unfortunately means i gotta look at anatomy from a more medical standpoint. Need to go find a book for that..

The first fic i put out actually has a very strong plot hole. That i told myself id patch before posting it but. I didn't.

That plot hole was the reasoning as to why ivan was doing that to hwon. It has a very weak reason and i could absolutely fix it now. But. Not this year.

I write ab 5k minimum most of the time haha. I prefer letting the story fill itself out n then helping fine tune details. Its why i really can't tell you how long a fic may be.

So far my longest fic is 16k words. Published. Theres more unpublished. That's for the abandoned but not orphaned one.

I may return to it eventually. That's why i didn't wanna orphan it.

All of my fics stop at a point they organically would have stopped at. When i feel it can't really take another scene. I end it. That usually leaves spaces for part twos to them as well!

But i like exploring aus as i write them.

Fun fact! I write aus bcs im worried that if i do anything else i may accidentally copy someone else's idea.

I do get inspired by the other kd writers. Oh gods do i get inspired.

Lee, lunar, eve, even erin, who encourages the hwonicide. They all inspire me in their own ways. Does that usually come in the form of a prompt to note down asap? Yeah.

But other ways are helping with details for fics. And they are all very welcome to chat ab fics w me. I don't steal ideas. Not without permission and changing it to be my own.

I have a prompt that is inspired by eve's fic Clear My Mind (eve is karmacumover btw!)

But it is different. I may show her the prompt itself if she wants to see it haha.

But i love working on fics. Even if I can't be proud of them as a 'look i made this!' i can still look at the work and go 'yeah. Thats good.'

Thank you lee for helping me figure out how to do that. It was amazing to be able to step back and go 'thats a good story' if i removed myself from it.

The lee im referring to here is intenselysalmon. So she knows who im referring to.

One day. One day my goal is to be proud of how much I've written. Of what I've written.

Its a goal i think is far away. But the more i talk to other writers. The more i realize.

Im not as bad at writing as i think i am.

Honestly id never even considered myself a good writer, until i asked writers like lee and erin their feedback on my works. And they both said i write well. Maybe a little dialogue heavy but. Thats fine i can work on it.

Im doing my best. And im trying to ensure i continue getting better.

The more i talk to other writers and see how they talk ab my writing. The more i go. 'maybe im too harsh on myself' but. As they say, you are your own worst critic.

Honestly i never even considered my work good enough to do much with. But. Lunar still offered to possibly do a collab or fic trade. And i keep thinking on it. Maybe.

It makes me think they find me a better writer than i find myself to be.

Then i see eve, reacting to some of the xlips of airen!ivan ive put out. And she's reacting as i would for any of lee's clips. I find lee an amazing writer. It seems eve thinks of me that way too.

Im trying to wrap my head around it. But the reason i am so harsh on myself is. Anxiety and self doubt. And i need to work through them.

Thats the first time ive admitted that.

I will work through my weaknesses, and be better than before. Slowly. It takes time. I have to be patient.

One day. One day i will be able to proudly say 'im a good writer'

Its not today. But. It will be an eventuality.

Moots mentioned in this post:

Lee (@intenselysalmon )

Erin (@kurenaiwataru )

Eve (@karmacumover )

Lunar (@kingdoms-babygirl )

#asks <3 #anons <3 #🩷 anon #long post

4 notes · View notes

acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years ago

Text

First Lines Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Thank you for thinking of me, @sanguinarysanguinity! It's been a while, but I haven't forgotten you! :-) I had previously experienced some technical difficulties, but here we are at last! What I write is a bold mix of historical fiction interspersed with some fics in the classical sense, so there:

It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. A James Joyce-inspired beginning to my project on Mary Baddeley and Henry Clinton.

The bells of Dresden tolled in mourning for the loss of the Elector; they had not tolled a fortnight before, when his mistress had predeceased him. I haven't written much of it yet, but I am transfixed by the life of Wilhelmina Maria Frederica von Rochlitz, the illegitimate daughter of Johann Georg IV, elector of Saxony. She was named after her godparents William III and Mary II of England, and would lose her mother, father and godmother within the same year to the same illness, and be raised at the court of her uncle Augustus the Strong.

Die Schwüle eines beginnenden Sommertages hing schwer über der Mark, dem Wald, und dem Dorfe und angrenzenden Gut B--. This is a little project for a friend that I won't quite disclose yet. ;-)

In all Lochaber— perhaps in all the Western Highlands— there was no more bored or disgusted man this sixteenth of August than Mr. Keith Windham of St. George’s School for Boys, as he led a group of year elevens; and no more nervous or unhappy men than the students themselves. Probably the only real fic on the list; a modern re-telling of the first meeting between Keith and Ewen from The Flight of the Heron!

Grey, grey was the garden, and grey the meadow and woods behind it, all glazed in dull hoarfrost. He shivered in spite of the warming flames in the fireplace, and pulled his banyan tighter about him, but it was no use, the cold still would not leave him. This is the beginning of my Margaret and Samuel Graves-centric project revolving around British naval operations in North America in 1774- early 1776.

She examined her face in the mirror: the brightness of the candle knew no clemency in revealing her age to her; they had once said of her that she had her mother's eyes, but the rest were her father's features: how long were they dead, how long since the last time someone had told her so, that remark the young girl had loathed, and yet the old woman longed for? The beginning of a little experiment in the way of alternative history that was developed together with @vankeppel- what if there was a Stuart heir to the throne, and the Hannovarians did not end up ruling from 1714 on? Lots of family secrets, guilt, and political hijinks ensue.

Als er ein Kind gewesen war, hatte seine Mutter ihm oft vorgelesen oder Geschichten erzählt: er erinnerte sich, als sei es gestern gewesen, wie er auf seiner Mutter schoß sitzend um eine letzte Geschichte vor dem Zubettgehen gefleht hatte; sie wusste manch toll-dreistes Abendteuer zu erzählen, und nicht selten waren ihre Helden edle Prinzen-- und das war auch äußerst zutreffend, bedachte man, wie sein Vater erst am Vortage ihn fauchend seiner vermeintlich weibisch-verweichlichten, losen Sitten gescholten hatte. This sort of ties in with its predecessor and is a present for @nordleuchten; what if George IV was never the prince regent, but a measly German prince who suffers from a colourful bouquet of first world problems (lace cravat not ironed correctly! Gasp!) and, out of boredom, quits to go to sea-- with unforeseen consequences.

If there's anything you'd like to hear more about, feel free to ask! I'm tagging any and all writers who wish to participate!

#r writes #tag game #reply #sanguinarysanguinity #first line game

14 notes · View notes

knifeonmars · 2 years ago

Text

Dead Space: Artifact

January 27, 2023 saw the release of Dead Space, a remake of the original 2008 scifi horror shooter. For many fans and casual observers this is a chance to restore the dignity and legacy of a series brought low by the worst excesses of the triple-a game industry; they’ll tell you that Dead Space was a horror experience stretched to the breaking point by publishers and executives who just didn't get what it was and why it was so special. This isn't entirely the case, though to be sure Dead Space suffered greatly as a result of meddlesome publishers and the realities of the industry. Rather, Dead Space was and is a microcosm of a moment in time, a model in miniature of the games industry as a whole during the PS3/Xbox 360 era. It was a time of transition between games as they had been and games as they are now; the emergence of game franchises as multibillion dollar businesses, the growth of recurrent user spending, and weird crossovers. Dead Space (2008) is a transitional fossil, perfectly capturing this timeframe and the bonanza of unsustainable growth and cutthroat tactics which transformed the industry. The life story of Dead Space isn't the story of one series being ground down by the gears of capital; it's the story of videogames as a whole.

The Little Horror That Could

The original Dead Space was released on October 13, 2008, going on to sell over a million copies and become a seemingly unlikely hit in an age when single player games had become unfashionable with publishers. It was a gnarly, violent sci-fi horror shooter which drew plenty of inspiration from Resident Evil IV as well as 1979’s seminal Alien with (for now) just a trace of Lovecraftian cult horror. It stood out as something of a throwback, a disconcerting horror experience which threw players off balance by making its grisly dismemberment mechanics the most efficient way of dispatching enemies, rather than the pretty little headshots gamers are normally conditioned to pursue with frightening dedication. Players were cast in the role of the silent Isaac Clarke, an ordinary engineer stranded aboard the derelict Ishimura, a mining vessel which is one part USCSS Nostromo, one part Resident Evil haunted house. Armed only with repurposed tools like nailguns and laser cutters, Clarke must fight his way past the sinister necromorphs, zombie mutants created by space magic.

Despite latter day mythology, Dead Space did not emerge from nothing as an unlikely darling. It had the weight of Electronic Arts distributing and promoting it, and was the subject of a significant hype cycle. The marketing budget for a game or movie is, as a rule of thumb, estimated at equal to that of the game/movie itself, so there was significant money behind the promotion of Dead Space, much of which focused on the grisly death animations visited upon its silent protagonist, emphasizing that gnarly, edgy appeal. Further, within the same year as Dead Space's release there was a comic book miniseries from Image Comics, a rail-shooter spinoff for the Nintendo Wii, and an animated movie, none of which are the kinds of projects which can be thrown together overnight for a completely unexpected success. EA knew exactly what they had on their hands from the beginning, and the way they handled it was typical of both EA and the industry in general's approach at the time.

A look at the output of Electronic Arts, or even Visceral Games itself, shows an emphasis on franchises over individual games or even series of games. Dante’s Inferno, another Visceral project, came out of the gate with an animated movie, a comic book, and plans for a live action movie, even as the game itself flopped and never went on to have its planned sequels. Visceral’s ill-fated and questionably tasteful Jack the Ripper vs vampire sexworkers game, Ripper, memorably outlined at Polygon [link] was similarly surrounded by talk of prequels, sequels, movies, and a robust multiplayer even as the game never completed development. Visceral Games was in the business of making franchises, and business… was not actually booming.

Further, while microtransactions and shameless greed are often laid at the feet of the later entries in the series, it’s worth noting that the original Dead Space itself had an awe-inspiring number of content packs available to be purchased a la carte for real money. These twelve packs contained skins for the main character and his weapons, as well as exclusive weapons and weapon upgrades. These items generally ran between 1.50 to 3.00 dollars US after conversion to videogame storefront funny money, the same price point as the then infamous The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion horse armor DLC in 2006 [link]. Though long forgotten now, Dead Space’s content packs were a part of the first big wave of normalizing small scale DLC, a part of the long onslaught which dismantled the idea that a sold videogame was a complete product.

The Inevitable Escalation

If Dead Space riffed shamelessly on Alien, Dead Space 2 must be compared to Aliens; the bigger, badder, more bombastic sequel. Gone is the largely isolated and constrained experience of the first game, a lone, silent survivor fighting through an incomprehensible situation, instead the no longer mute Isaac Clarke finds himself in a story about a zombie outbreak on Titan and being drawn further into the schemes of the cult worshiping said zombies.This brought with it changes to the gameplay such as a more open setting, new, less idiosyncratic weapons, more streamlined design, and even a multiplayer mode. Dead Space was still action-horror, but the action had received a major promotion, making the game much less clunky and unusual than its predecessor.

2011 was a golden age for ill-considered and often thematically bizarre multiplayer modes in singleplayer games, which were stuffed into everything from Dead Space to Uncharted to Bioshock. For publishers, the proposition was simple; multiplayer games kept people playing longer and thus more likely to spend money on cosmetics, weapons, and other items, which become part of a haves and have-nots culture among players. In 2020 EA Games’ then-president Frank Gibeau would so far as to say that the single-player model of games was finished and that game developers were moving towards connected experiences. Ironically, in this same interview Gibeau pointed towards Dead Space specifically as an example of EA Games allowing publishers to pursue their own vision; considering where the series went, this statement seems inaccurate. The logic behind the move to online gaming should be familiar to anyone who’s played a modern live service game and tried to grind through a season pass to keep up with friends. Incidentally, Dead Space 2’s multiplayer mode was the one part of Ripper to make it out of development, as the new mode made use of much of the work done on its stillborn sibling series..

The sequel continued to hawk DLC in the form of costumes and weapons, while adding on a whole host of pre-order and special edition bonuses, and even a sequel chapter which tied into the first game’s spinoff; Dead Space: Extraction. Players inhabited the role of Gabe Weller, a space soldier trying to reunite with his wife, in a story which frankly didn’t augur well for the series’ narrative ambitions.

Whereas the first Dead Space had been at least somewhat on the bubble, an unknown quantity in need of justifying its existence, Dead Space 2 was not in the same position. Its overblown nature can be chalked up not only to EA wanting a more bombastic and mainstream product, but also the almost inevitable tendency towards escalation seen in sequels as developers find themselves with larger budgets, raised expectations, and a few simple tricks to sell their sequel as bigger and more important. Dead Space 2 was the series’ biggest hit and success as a multimedia franchise. In the year before and the year after Dead Space 2’s 2011 release there was also: a novel, another animated movie, a puzzle spin-off game, a mobile game, and an appearance by series protagonist Isaac Clarke in notorious Smash Bros. knockoff PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale. This was the apex.

World Killer

The sins of Dead Space 3 are myriad and often blamed for killing the series, admittedly true given that until the announcement of the remake, Dead Space had lain fallow since 3’s release in 2013. It very much did kill the franchise, but Dead Space 3 was not an outlier, it was a natural progression of the trajectory which Dead Space had long been on.

The story and action had by now totally shifted, Isaac Clarke spends most of the game teamed up with a secondary protagonist who is a cool space soldier, gunning down human enemies on a frozen planet rather than, you know, in space. Traditional gunplay against traditional enemies is a much larger part of the gameplay, and the zombies have been so sidelined as a threat that only a single main character is actually seen to die at the hands of what was once depicted as a horror so profound it nearly drove Isaac Clarke insane. Clarke no longer has time for that kind of interiority (indeed the initial idea that the secondary playable character would be a figment of Clarke’s imagination was ruled out) because he has baddies to mow down and, in a example of sequel escalation taken to near parodic excess, zombie moons to fight.

The DLC packs made their triumphant return, with seven sets of weapons and costumes, a sequel campaign set after the main game, pre-order bonuses, and (I’m not kidding) a set of weapons only available through entering a promo code found in Slim Jim packages. Microtransactions had evolved since the first Dead Space, and Dead Space 3 saw major innovation on that front. Where previous packs had consisted of cosmetics with no real effect on gameplay and weapons which a dedicated player could presumably make it through the game without using, Dead Space 3 introduced a crafting system, because it was 2013 and if you didn’t have a crafting system you’d be laughed at by all the cool kids, and also because a crafting system means resource management. Resource management which could be cut down substantially if players were to, say, buy a pack of non-renewable in-game resources for real world money to spare themselves the hassle. Between the shameless money grabs and the sense that the series had rapidly lost touch with its roots, Dead Space seemed adrift. Neither of those things really had anything to do with the end of the series though, which ultimately came down to the most fearsome and cutthroat force in gaming: sales goals.

As Dead Space had grown as a franchise, EA’s ambitions for it had grown right along with it, and despite selling 605,000 copies in its first month, the series’ third entry fell well below EA’s sales goals. One might question exactly what sales goals EA had in mind for a series which began as a relatively niche riff on alien zombie horror, but keep in mind that this was in the gold rush era of game publishing. Development costs kept going up, as did promotional costs, so sales goals followed. Publishers at the time were so incensed by the idea that they might miss out on a penny of revenue that they took major steps toward killing the used game market (only a few years before digital sales would essentially wipe it out anyway) through pre-order DLC, locked on-disc content requiring single-use codes packed with new copies of the game, mandatory internet connections, and even the discussion of fees to activate used games. Dead Space 3 itself locked off its multiplayer co-op features behind a purchase code for used game buyers, who had to shell out additional cash for the full experience. It’s no surprise that in this unsustainable atmosphere Dead Space was gradually transformed into the kind of four-quadrant crowd pleaser EA thought they wanted, only to fail anyway because what EA actually wanted was a license to continually make more money forever, ideally while doing as little as possible. Dead Space 2 had eventually sold over four million copies, but even the apex of the series was still considered a failure, thanks to EA’s lavish spending on promotion, a sector of the media industry which definitely isn’t a grift.

Dead Space was a Cinderella story turned into horror, the developer dream of a weird project becoming an unlikely darling and skyrocketing to mainstream status, before being gradually morphed into a more and more interchangeable product about armored space marines blasting monsters as the publisher spend years hollowing it out in search of a real life infinite money glitch. It was 2013 and Dead Space was dead.

Until today. January 27, 2023 saw see a Dead Space remake released from Montreal-based Motive Studio. Visceral Games is no more, just one of the many studios shuttered by EA after its ludicrous sales projections failed to be met, chewed up and spit out when the delicious flavor of money began to fade like bubblegum made from developers’ hopes and dreams. But enough time has passed now that people are nostalgic for Dead Space, bitter about the sequels, and ready to go back to the old ways, just as the first game was itself a throwback. The devs have promised no microtransactions, though at this point that’s a bit like saying that your new car doesn’t even need to be fed oats and have its horseshoes regularly changed. The industry has evolved; the money might have stayed just the same, but the ways they get it are different. In the original Dead Space games they got it through clunky DLC packs with outfits and guns, then story expansions, and finally with onerous gameplay requirements which players could pay to skip. Now it’s different, the zombified corpse of a dead franchise lurching into view, the mind and heart is gone, the original creators and developers all gone, but it’s something shiny and new, dripping with viscera, animated by a terrible and ancient purpose. You can cut off the head and it still won’t die. It wants your money.

Epilogue

The Callisto Protocol is a game made by some of the people behind the original Dead Space. It is a spiritual sequel to the franchise, channeling the same aesthetics and horror gameplay as the original series. The Callisto Protocol came out on December 1st, 2022, about two months before the Dead Space remake. It had a season pass with character skins, two game modes, and a story expansion. It sold two million units and underperformed because it didn't sell five million [link]. You can’t win.

#dead space #callisto protocol #essays #gaming #giving it away for free

19 notes · View notes

its-a-hil · 1 year ago

Text

answering everything for this ask game

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect? there are. a number of them. flare (clark powell, for homestuck) magilou's theme (motoi sakuraba, for tales of berseria) electricity forecast (inabakumori, really everything by them is just. so good) 14.3 billion years (andrew prahlow, for outer wilds)

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)? how hard teaching is :/ idk it's difficult to process anything else when im having a fulltime job for the first time in my life -_-

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home? yes absolutely i need to wear something comfy and soft and unrestrictive so like. leggings and a t shirt. having to wear vaguely formal clothes to work is nice for my self esteem but they are absolutely not home clothes at all

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with? not at the moment but i want to!! new year's resolution is to buy/make a necklace with 30 lunar phases and wear the appropriate one every day in 2024

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them? i have an older sister, we're extremely different lmao i guess we're both academically inclined and like reading fantasy, but that's like. it. though we are both currently getting our masters degrees from the same university so that's neat

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does? i guess… seeing something that was more beautiful than i expected? that's very vague hold on one time i was walking home from my office hours as a ta after a student had held me late these were evening office hours, so like. it was 2230, i was not dressed for the cold, i was annoyed at the student but but as i was passing a little field of grass, there were little ice crystals on the blades in the light of the streetlamp, as the wind was blowing the grass and i was walking past it the grass glittered i cant think of a better way to describe it but ive never seen anything like it since it completely made my day so yeah. that's my answer

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else? hm idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i feel like inside jokes usually just become part of my vocabulary

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is? fiction i think it's because im much closer to being good at writing than i am to any other art form so it resonates more with me since i can feel/imagine its creation in a way that i cant for music or visual art also sometimes i read my own past writing and it eats me alive

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you? it's associated with my name obv, since it's just a pronunciation guide but it's also associated with my avi edits, which are wonderful and make me feel great joy

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot? oh absolutely also not at all past me and present me both had/have an absurd inability to compartmentalize, a large degree of silliness, and a general love for the world the main difference is that ive… done more things

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again? not quite a movie or a book but. katanagatari. i really liked it but also it is so fucking slow i tried to rewatch it a couple years ago and i couldnt bc it was just so wordy

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired? it's quite easy to tell if im upset or tired i feel idk if theres a difference between them just like. looking at my eyes. also i take pauses when im tired/upset. also my voice is just. god. unsure about a tell for whether im happy though im not very in tune with my emotions to be able to tell that at least with other people if im by myself ill stim and the cadence/type of stim makes my emotional state obvious but who ever sees that

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts? things that encourage me to do something i want to do but need the motivation for my college friend group does a yearly gift exchange and a couple years ago i wished for earrings as motivation to get my ears pierced (it took me another 9 months but. we still did it girlies !!)

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life? hm. failure? failing a class, or having a relationship break down, or tripping and getting myself seriously injured just. something that reminds me how ubiquitous loss is, that forces my brain to accept the fact that it's okay to not try to be perfect

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless? aranea homestuck!! something about the way that she knew that the game over timeline would break, did her best to avoid it, and everything fell apart anyway the part where she kisses jake and is like "wait why are you freaking out?? i know you like me this was supposed to encourage you" is just. she's doing her fucking best and putting her all into saving the timeline and yet everything she's doing is hurting and she doesn't know why also the part where she snaps and mind controls damaras to smash planets together in a desperate attempt to kill the condesce. so important. love her idk if she even counts as a villain but the story hates her so. it counts for me

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on? haha… "decorated"... that sure is a word…………

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with? oooooh answer !! god. tales of luminaria was so fucking good!! (this was the trailer theme, and it was honestly the first thing that clued me into the fact that the game would be amazing)

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about? i guess for a general hypothetical person, i'd tell them how i have a teaching job now, how i have to manage a horrible curriculum that's just. extremely pedagogically unsound i'd also tell them that i went to la over the summer and got to see my 2nd space shuttle orbiter, that i don't yet live somewhere with public transit but that day is growing ever closer and im so excited

#ask game #lifeblogging

2 notes · View notes