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

patrickispinky · 2 months ago

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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 2022

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. October Sun

(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.

Pt.2

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honeyhotteoks · 3 months ago

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do you have any advice on like getting better with writing?

hey! i definitely do!! i’ve talked about this before but i have a lot of new readers, so ill start off by saying i’ve been writing for my entire life, and im 30 so thats a lot of years. if you’re a new writer, trust me i used to be there and good god if you guys could see the stuff i published in old fandoms 💀 really, really bad haha

i only say that because i by no means consider myself a great writer, there are fic writers in this space alone that i’m always so floored by and look up to…. but people have been very kind about my writing style and it’s something that took time to develop it’s not something i just “had”. outside of fic, i was a literature and creative writing major, and got very used to writing and workshopping pieces.

now! onto some actual advice —

1. read a lot and read more, but read stuff you actually like and not stuff you feel pressured to read. i love high brow litfic as much as the next pretentious english major, but i started writing a ton after reading a bunch of kindle unlimited romance because it was fun and it got me inspired

2. watch well written television for dialogue and pacing. people do not talk in proper english, they don’t say things eloquently, and there’s a lot of filler and fluff. that’s good! that’s real, so i love well written tv to show me how it’s done

3. get comfortable writing in weird ways. for years i used to sit down and be like “ah okay so chapter one” and then i was stuck, stalled out, and just felt bad about the process. when i started writing both aurora and tnt, i started in the middle. i had an image of a scene in my mind (for tnt it was actually the claim attempt) and i just wrote it out and then bounced around later

4. outlines are your friend! sometimes i’ll get a random line of dialogue in my head or an image but that doesn’t mean i’m ready to write it. i throw it in one big outline so i don’t lose it.

5. if you’re wanting to write really good smut i have two suggestions but please only do this to your personal comfort level. this is what works for me but do not make yourself uncomfortable— for good smut, i watch porn for reference and for good dirty talk, i listen to nsfw audio. i like to really write the visuals for smut and make it immersive but lol i haven’t experienced everything ive written about and logistics of the body are hard!! i usually find a video or an audio and let that help guide the imagery im writing.

6. be comfortable with the editing process. i know the temptation to post something the minute you finish it is there, but sleep on it. come back and edit it, read the dialogue out loud if you have to. i swear you’ll make the piece better just by leaving it and coming back.

7. don’t be afraid to post. most people are kind, and the worst thing that will happen is you don’t get a lot of notes. that’s okay, it’s a process.

8. research! as i’m writing anything, even a silly little oneshot, im doing research on something. i am hyper aware that im not korean and have never spoken korean or lived in korea, so for my fic i try my hardest to ground elements of that in reality. i truly cannot tell you how many hours ive spent reading like korean case law on revenge porn just for like 3 lines of dialogue. and you don’t have to go that crazy, i’m arguably too intense, but i do think some of that helps the story and the dialogue feel real.

9. describe something real- every place in my writing is based on something real. every apartment, hotel, cafe, venue, etc., they’re all either something i’ve found online or drawn from my life and use that to my advantage. i use apartment listings and save photographs, i do google map walks to see what neighborhoods look like, anything to get the feel of a place or an experience. for the christmas chapters of aurora, i watched hours of gwangju walking tour videos on youtube while i was writing just to understand how to describe their walk in the snow. it really helps me to have a visual that i can put words to.

10. find your weak points and see what other writers do differently. if you want to improve, you should find a small place to start. is it dialogue? overall plot? smut? etc. - i’ll never forget being on a creative writing retreat, and a very important writing professor said to me “everything you write is very pretty but you haven’t said anything. you have to decide to say something.” that feedback hurt, but sent me down a much better writing path when i realized where i was falling short and not challenging myself.

okay i hope some of this was helpful and if it’s a mess im sorry im on mobile. i really just love writing so deeply and will always talk about it, so i hope this was helpful 💗

#answered anon #honeyhotteoks thoughts #about writing

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cainightfics · 19 days ago

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instead of answering all the asks individually, im just going to address the main question in one post...

where have i been? am i coming back?

tldr: 1) lots of places 2) yes

to answer in greater detail, it rly all begins with the night i made the horrible decision to hit submit on my application to grad school: december 15 2022. now i would not say grad school in itself has been horrible. my last life update in 2023 i was super broke and not doing well-- since then ive gotten scholarships, funding, and job opportunities, so contrary to most people's experience with grad school ive actually appreciated a (mostly) very financially stable existence here. i am just, to put it bluntly, tired. over the past 2 years, due to both my education and the general state of the world, ive had very little will to write fic. ive spent much of my time producing academic work or writing fiction elsewhere. i burned out bad writing my graduating honours thesis in 2023 and have been bombarded with similarly draining long term projects since. i became a semi-notable scholar in my micro-field and have been at conferences all around the world, on projects funded by the government, teaching classes etc but im ready for it to be over. im glad to have had the experience, but when i graduate in a couple months, i won't miss the mental exhaustion. im the type of person that values my freedom too much for all that.

aside from that, ive had 10 jobs in the last 2 years and been doing tons of random shit lol. i learned pretty early on into grad school that despite my success here, academia is really not my thing, so to deal with my disillusionment i started just doing whatever the fuck on weekends. why am i disillusioned? because there is systemic rot that becomes increasingly ridiculous and hypocritical the further up you get, most things you do are either pointless or happen on such a slow timeline they are rendered pointless through the slog, and because it's basically a pyramid scheme.

beyond the structural issues, a lot of people here are... kind of dumb. or maybe not dumb, but disappointing. i haven't made any friends here. that's definitely partially my fault, but also, i just don't find a lot of these people super inspiring or interesting or fun. i think im kind of the crazy person of my program lol. as some of you may know from my previous ask replies i have a very pessimistic and doomer mentality... and something about the insularity and toxic optimism of many ppl in academia bothers me. also you know when you can tell someone has never had the formative experience of working in customer service and being screamed at, assaulted, or threatened by a customer? and so without that formative experience they are annoyingly fresh and naive and innocent and nervous about everything and haven't been beaten down by life in a way that's made them more chill and empathetic? imagine that but it's every person in the room because you are at an elite school known for nepotism and everyone there grew up rich. yeah.

so onto the random shit ive been doing. ill just include the highlights

- found and raised a baby raven

- lived in the woods and survived off shoplifting and fishing for a portion of the winter

- became a cowboy for a bit

- harvested weed for two days, never got paid

- also randomly worked on a pirate ship for like 4 hrs

- went to mexico with 100usd

- went to nyc and visited e corp and elliots house and realized for myself how much elliots commute in-show doesn't make sense lol

- got a job at a maid cafe bc i thought it would be funny and they guilted me into working there for a full month

- very nearly got arrested while trying to ride the rails, had to hide in a cold metal rail car for 2 hrs in the middle of nowhere while i was literally hunted down

- for a while got very into the idea of becoming a hermit and living in a cave (may still revisit this in some way)

those are kind of the highlights! and the whole time i was plagued by the thought that i needed to go back to ao3 and finish what i started....

on a serious note, ive realized over the past 2 years that im not really built for a stable life. its not that i look down on it per say, i just can't do it. im incompatible with the life we are "supposed" to live according to the current cultural hegemony. what i enjoy is reading for fun, writing for fun, exploring, investigating, solving puzzles. when i feel stifled and overwhelmed, i can't focus on that. i do think the experience of grad school has helped me grow, but the development is almost negative-- that was my shot at taking a normal trajectory, or at trying to find validation and solace in a traditional setting. i realized the feedback and sort of affective dialectic of interacting with you, of writing and having my work read by an audience who shares the same interests as me, is far more fulfilling than what ive been doing. im really looking into trying to pursue a life where i can be somewhat self sufficient and have lots of time (and not just time, mental energy!!) for creative stuff. i have become increasingly pessimistic about our collective future and about The State Of Things, but at the same time, ive found existential freedom in giving up on the life everyone tells me i should be living

so anyways. if u feel inclined, i'd like to know what you've been up to as well!!

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her-power · 1 year ago

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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

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cconfusedkat · 2 months ago

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(shaking hands, functioning on three iced coffees, not beta read we just die) (LIL BRO TREATING THIS LIKE AO3Anyways yeah i did not read anything i typed here a second time so my wording might Suck Major Kuss)

Hey chat! sorry my holiday depression unfortunately kicked in, i had a ,, relatively decent Eid (cuz i dont celebrate christmas) ...? so i hope everyone had a relatively better holiday than i did… 💦

My friends often tell me i look like my art and i kinda see it. Hooray! Meeting the artist! Except i took matters into my own hands of making my own collage because I Do Not Have Enough Storage Space For Any Other Editing App

Additional shitpost ❤️ the art I've been most proud of are not actually in here, really! I'm mainly proud of the fanart i made for the few smiling critters AU's aaaall the way back feb-march but. I guess the stuff i liked the most i did this year was probably for the one who wilts? Im trying to think of stuff earlier than that. I noticed i definitely had an improvement in art, and i learned i do have a preference of drawing certain ways now too lmao- the fun of art! I hope to improve more in 2025 :-)

Herm,, all jokes aside, im glad people like my art...?? I am not a very Secure artist myself (already taking me five minutes to type that out and consider myself as an artist) so im SHOCKED when people Actually like my things. My doodles. The sometimes rare occasion of real art i put out there. Like! Wow! Thats crazy

Id have to say the same for youtube- im currently at 456 subscribers 🥺❤️ that is huge to me,, i wouldnt have expected me posting for the first time in years on youtube would result to me getting this many subscribers? ? .???

Im very, VERY thankful for the people ive met this year through fandom and generally. Unfortunately—for the past few months—Ive hit a really low stump in my mental health that limits me from talking to people without getting super drained, even on social media i kinda struggle with being active again. I am thankful for the people that continue to stick around and know im the way that i am,, one day ill be mentally stronger and everyone is gonna see my growth as soon as i can ,, Actually leave my own home and hopefully start a new. I didnt really consider that until one of my friends shared its experiences with me and i GENUINELY realized i can run away and get better one day,, there is a light at the end of the tunnel,, there IS,, but not now. Not today. Not in a few months. Itll take me years to heal but 2025 and ongoing years as i get more freedom to do so,,

UHHHH UHHH. ASIDE FROM CHEESY RANTING OF HAVING HOPES FOR THE FUTURE, YAPYAPYAP- i got a drawing tablet (again another thing my friend inspired me for- technically two major things in a row it inspired me for- hope in the future and drawing BWAHAHA-) and uhhh. HmMMOOHHH YEAH I REUNITED MY MEOWMEOWS! HOORA🎊🎊🎊🎊

my 2025 goals are not just improvement in art,, but in hopes of getting a full time job (since my last full time UMM. did NOT work out well! How am i gonna learn to pay my taxes on my own dawg,) and trying to get a place of my own since i missed out on that two years ago (or one? One year ago? I DUNNO..!!!!) , therapy and trying to heal better compared to my terrible stumps of 2022-2024,, i dunno what else but. Maybe working on my social skills at some point 🗿🗿 a far fetched goal is moving out of state completely and also going on testosterone but that is farrrr from now </33

Thank you lot for following and keeping up with my goofiness i gen did not think an animanga nerd with a passion of indie and mascot horror games could reach 510 followers within one year HELPPP thats crazy

On less serious goals though i hope on watching more animes than reading manga in 2025 BWAHAHAGAHSAJD i read manga more and anime is Extremely Rare for me to watch but both jjk and Beastars have all ive been watching as of recent lol- trust i will be such a geek (girl Please that is NAWT something to look forward to) (YES IT IS. HAVE YOU NO WHIMSY?)

#Welcome back to “sydneys yapfest.” Today i bawl my eyes out for 20 minutes and then go back to hide into the catacombs! Oh how fun #And well i guess OFF + DW + STP have been on my mind too lmao- OUH YEAH. I GOT $100 IN ROBUX. Made a looey skin. Teehee!#Uhh i lost a lot of people this year but. Yknow. Most of them were really shitasses! So! Hey! Positivity wins again #<- Like it genuinely does- being around people who are more positive than self depreciative has helped me a lot more in recovering #UMMMM. YEAH. YUH. MMHM. THATS ALL I GOT. Im scared of new years! so ill see you guys next year probably? (LIKE IN JAN)#Thanks for making this year so silly and wonderful ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹💟💟 ill probably post if i get any asks but therell be more inactivity due -#- to seasonal depression TvT... but ill be better in six months time! June! We got this chat we will NOT let depression kick our asses 🤺🤺#Ok yeah thats all for now- YAHOO! Someone hold my hand for the next few days im Deeply Terrified Of New Years Countdowns #sydneys thoughts

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jaemified · 1 year ago

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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.

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soothsaver · 1 month ago

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could that really be PIHLA, the HEALER of WINTERFELL entering the keep ? king’s landing is sure to benefit from the thirty four year old’s ability to be adaptative but beware, whispers also say they have been known to be mysterious. their loyalty belongs to THE NORTH and are indifferent to the ruling of house targaryen throughout westeros.

i. dossier

full name: pihla (/ˈpiç.lɑ/) meaning: rowan tree title: none alias(es): the soothsayer, the witch from frozen hells age: four and thirty birthdate: unknown; supposedly between the fifth and the sixth moon of the westerosi year 24 ac. gender & pronouns: cis woman & she / her orientation: heterosexual, demiromantic religion: the old gods languages spoken: the old tongue, the common tongue occupation: woodswitch healer allegiance: the north

ii. physicality

notable features: bright shock of red hair. height: 5’7, 170 cm build: tall, curvaceous. eyes: light brown. hair: her hair is licked by flames, an inheritance from her wildling mother yet is is very curly, inherited from her father's own curls. she usually wears it in northern braids. wardrobe: she is not picky with clothing, nor the most fashionable. will wear any scrap of fur she finds, and always lines her clothing with it; besides fur, leather and cotton are her most worn textures and she tends to wear darker clothing in the shades of blacks, browns, greens and blues.

iii. ties

father: asmund of skagos mother: thistle siblings: none known marital status: unmarried children: unnamed babe (dead in the cradle c. 55 ac) relatives: none of note; considers her companion wildlings as kin

iv. personality

abilities: although she carries no supernatural ability that she knows of, her kinship to healing and herbology akins her to a wise woman, and her queer knowledge rumors claim her as a dark woodswitch; she can also sail through rough waters and chart the stars. moral alignment: tba positives: tba negatives: tba pass times: tba wields: always carry with her a pouch of herbs, two vials with one sprinkle of poisonous herbs and another of dried herbs for good doing; also carries a dragonglass blade on her waistline. inspirations: mr. & mrs. everdeen ( the hunger games ), alys rivers ( asoiaf ), freydis eriksdotter & leif eriksson ( vikings valhalla ), the soothsayer ( varangian ), iseult ( the last kingdom ).

v. background

tw : death, infant death, illness, religion.

born from a skagosi who wandered through rough waters beyond the wall and a wildling woodswitch, pihlalearned of love through the veils of temporarity — it is never to last, not even that of a woman and man, or mother and daughter. still, she learned as much as she could from both mother and father until they were both to part — father for a trip that he never returned to, and mother from death’s arms. from her father, she learned the language of the stars and of the sea, of the common tongue and of the world beyond; from her mother, an old seer, she learned of the old gods, of the old tongue and of the old world, of plants and of their proprierties. through the world, she learned of its people and what they expect of you, not always in the sweetest way possible.

her mother's so called witchcraft kept her partially safe in those early years of life. people came for her for their future and for their past and for their present, and, soon enough, they would also come to trust on pihla to help them with the same, though she would think of herself less remarkably accurate than her mother. still, she noted on what her mother said, of what would one day come. she was never wrong, even if she was sometimes fuzzy.

when the woman was long passed and pihla had done well in estabilishing herself as a woodswitch and a wise woman around her parts, a man in black came to her doors. nearly dying, she took him in and healed him until they became one, over and over. he would come to tell her more about the other world, the one she knew only so much about. about lords and kings and crows and dragons; she was taken with him as much as he was with her, or so she had assumed. love is not to last, and he returned to the watch, leaving his dagger with her and a seed within her.

the babe was born during a rare warm day. pihla's world stopped and she thought no more of prophecies and of the gods, only of her beautiful son and of the life they were to lead together, forever. she was not wise, of course. the gods are demanding and took her child, a sprout dead before its time. those were her mother's words. run when the sprout is dead, she had said. run to your father's world before the chill catches you too. although heartbroken, she did as she was told; garnering supplies and making her way to the edge of the world she knew, where the great rough seas meet snow. throughout the path, she told of what she knew, and those who believed the old seer's words followed her.

with a handful or two of people, they built a sturdy ship and made their way to skagos. from skagos, to eastwatch by the sea. flocked by crows, they were only able to survive the day because pihla spoke of her own man in black, showed his words written on rough paper. that was enough for an audience with the head crow, and with the king of the north — nay, the lord stark. the chill, my lord. the dead with it, they pleaded for reprieve from the world across the wall. somehow, the lord stark's heart softened and they were given refuge; for however long his heart remained soft, that is.

though a small path of land was bregundingly given to the refugees by the watch, pihla could not bear to stay in lands infested by crows — her heart still ached for what she lost and there was a whole world to see that she had one day dreamed of. so she was allowed to accompany the stark retinue out of the wall and, alone, she perigrinated through northern towns, offering her gifts to those who would have her. the illness that coarsed the north did not touch her — she had already seen and survived it before, and knew how to see and survive it again. many, many did not. she touched and healed those she could, as best she could, yet the number of those who perished was great.

when she was summoned by the lord stark, his wife was one of those who did not survive. pihla knew so as she saw the woman, but she was able to bring the stark child back to life and their life tied with hers; his survival was enough to keep lord stark's heart soft towards her. for now. going further south is not something she had expected, but she abides to her new sire's words; she has always been heedful, after all. for as long as this one lasts.

#heirs.intro

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microcosme11 · 1 year ago

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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

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thesugarhole · 1 year ago

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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

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shooks-stupid-stuff · 1 year ago

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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

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acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years ago

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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

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its-a-hil · 1 year ago

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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

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