hauntedwizardtree

[hauntedwizardtree]

worlds slowest fanfic author tries really really hard

[hauntedwizardtree]

“How’s your WIP going?”

"Have you made any progress?”

“How close are you to being done?”

[hauntedwizardtree]

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

[hauntedwizardtree]

Chapter 3: The Kind of Problem You Don’t Find in School (Part 1)

Author’s Note:

I posted this chapter a little earlier than planned, but the same deal from the last one still applies!

If this story reaches 20 reposts, I’ll create an AO3 specifically for it and start uploading there too.

And hey — if we hit 200 likes, I’ll drop the next chapter today!Huge thanks to all the new followers and the amazing messages — you’re all awesome!

My inbox is open for questions, comments about the story, or just to chat.I’m also open for writing and art commissions, so feel free to send me a message!

See you in the next chapter!

----(>ú<)-----

Look, I didn’t want to be special.

If you're reading this because you think you might be... well, maybe it’s better to put the book down now. Trust me. Believe whatever your parents told you about your birth, keep living as if nothing is real — and, if you can, stay away from saltwater.

Being special is dangerous.

It’s confusing, terrifying... and a great way to end up alone, hurt, or worse.

If you’re a normal kid, reading this thinking it’s fiction, great. Enjoy it while you can. I envy you. But if, somewhere deep inside, you feel something... a weird vibration, an unexplained chill, a voice whispering your name in the middle of silence — stop. Right now.

Because it might be that you’re like me.

And, in that case... well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My name is Perseus Telis Jackson. But everyone calls me Percy — except my mom, who only uses my full name when she wants me to do the dishes or when I'm in trouble.

I’m twelve years old, with some pretty ugly scars on my face, and dreams that give me dark circles that would make a sleepless panda jealous.

The scars are three, all on the right side of my face, going from my temple to my chin. I’ve had them since I was three, and they’re the ones that caused the biggest mess in my life.

A lot of people thought the culprit was my ex-stepdad, Old Smelly Gabe, and he ended up getting arrested. Seriously, I don’t miss him. Like, at all.

My mom never told me what really happened that night. She just said she found me covered in salt and sand, sleeping on the ground as if nothing had happened, but with my eyes still full of fear. I don’t remember anything. All I know is, since then, sleep has never been peaceful.

Almost every night, I dream of things that don’t make sense. Gigantic waves, voices whispering in languages I don’t understand, creatures with eyes that glow like headlights in the dark depths of some place that feels... way too familiar.

If that sounds weird, maybe it is. But for me, it’s routine

It’s not like I had a “how to be a normal kid” manual anyway.

At school, they say I’m too mature for my age. The truth is, when you grow up with the kind of silence that only bad dreams leave, you end up learning to keep a lot to yourself.

And, well... if I knew where all of this would lead, maybe I would have done things differently.

Maybe I would have pretended nothing was real, that the scars didn’t matter, that the dreams were just dreams.

Because the truth is, all of this — the scars, the nightmares, even my name — is just the beginning.

You must be wondering why all this? The introduction? The warnings and all that?

Well, it all started a few months ago. I was a student at Yancy Academy — a fancy, half-prison-like boarding school up in northern New York. It’s the kind of private school where they send kids that adults aren’t quite sure how to handle. And yes, that includes people like me.

Am I a troublemaker? Yeah... I guess you could say that.

Not that I go around beating up classmates or setting fire to lockers — well, at least not on purpose. But problems seem to follow me. Or maybe I follow them. Anyway, the fact is: my file at Yancy’s office is almost as thick as a Latin dictionary. And I’ve only been there for a year.

I could start this story from several strange and confusing moments in my life, but the truth is, things really started going wrong in the last month of May. That’s when my sixth-grade class went on a field trip to Manhattan — twenty-eight hyperactive kids (and two or three sociopaths) crammed into a yellow school bus, along with two teachers who looked visibly regretful.

The destination? The Metropolitan Museum of Art. The objective? To observe “cultural relics” from ancient Greece and Rome.

Yeah, I know. It sounds like punishment. And, honestly? Most of the time, Yancy's field trips were just that: punishment disguised as an educational outing. But this time, I had a tiny bit of hope.

Because the one guiding the tour was Mr. Brunner — our teacher, and he was... different. He had thinning hair at the temples, a scruffy beard that always seemed on the verge of giving up, and wore a tweed jacket so old it must have witnessed more intense battles than most of us. And he always — always — smelled like coffee. That strong, bitter scent, like the man himself was made of old books and sleepless nights.

At first glance, you'd probably mistake him for some retired librarian or a historian who got lost on the way home. But there was something about him — the way he spoke, as if he measured every word carefully, and the sharp look behind his glasses — that made you feel like he knew more than he should.

He was our Latin teacher, but his lessons went far beyond declensions and dead verbs. He told stories, made bad jokes, and let us ask weird questions without losing his patience. Sometimes, it even seemed like he enjoyed it when someone brought up a topic off the syllabus, like "dragons in Greek mythology" or "how the gods would dress today."

And the coolest part? Mr. Brunner had an entire collection of Roman weapons and armor. Real stuff. Swords, shields, helmets... all hanging on the walls of the classroom or piled up on shelves with handwritten labels. Sometimes, he'd bring in a different item to show the class, and at those moments, the room would go silent, almost magically. It was the only class where no one — not even me — would fall asleep.

Of course, sometimes I’d catch him watching me when no one was looking, like he recognized something about me, but all of that would make sense later. But, that day, all I knew was that Mr. Brunner was the only adult in the school who didn’t look at me like I was a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

I was hoping everything would go smoothly on the trip. At least I hoped I wouldn't get into trouble this time.

Man, was I wrong.

Actually, I tried — really tried — to be a good student. I did my homework, studied for tests, and when I didn’t forget because of my ADHD, I even turned in my assignments on time. My teachers knew this, but... things always went wrong.

Like, have you ever heard of someone having bad luck? Now imagine someone with an invisible magnet stuck to their forehead, attracting embarrassing and unfair situations like it’s some kind of superpower.

That’s me.

If someone threw an eraser at the teacher, I was the one who got blamed. If the fire alarm went off for no reason? Somehow, it was my fault too. I don’t even want to remember the day a rat showed up in math class. (Spoiler: I was in fencing club at that time.)

Yeah, fencing club. I participated. I wasn’t the best or the most disciplined, but I was quick, and the instructor said I had reflexes as sharp as a cat’s. He just forgot to mention that, sometimes, my brain didn’t tell my feet in time. Still, it was the only extracurricular activity where I didn’t feel completely out of place.

Even so, no effort seemed good enough. There was always something that went wrong — as if the universe thought it was funny to put me in situations where everything went wrong in the most spectacular way possible.

And that was just this year at Yancy.

Understand this: bad things just happen to me on school trips. Always.

In fifth grade, for example, we took a trip to the Saratoga battlefield. There was a cannon from the American Revolution there, all surrounded and with a thousand “DO NOT TOUCH” signs. I swear on everything sacred: I didn’t touch it. But somehow, the cannon turned, fell, and almost hit our bus. The result? Expelled from school.

In fourth grade, we went to visit Marine World — you know, the behind-the-scenes tour of the shark tank. I don’t know how — seriously, I have no idea — but I triggered a lever that kids weren’t even supposed to be near and... well, the whole class got a salty shower while the sharks got a live screaming show.

Before that? Better not even get into the details. You get the pattern by now, right?

So, on this particular trip to Manhattan, I was determined to break the curse. No historical disasters, no mysterious buttons, zero messes. I was going to be good, stick to the plan, stay invisible. Easy.

Then came Nancy Bobofit.

She was that annoying student — red-haired, freckled, with a supernatural talent for getting on everyone’s nerves, including plants. And for some cosmic reason, she’d picked Grover as her favorite target.

Grover was an easy target. Skinny, awkward, shy. He cried when he got frustrated. He was the only sixth grader with acne and a patchy little beard coming in on his chin, which made everyone think he’d been held back like three times. He also had a doctor’s note excusing him from PE — something about a muscular condition in his legs. He walked kind of funny, like every step hurt. But don’t be fooled — you should’ve seen how fast he moved when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Despite all that — or maybe because of it — Grover was brave. In a quiet, almost invisible way. Always trying to see the bright side, even when he was shaking in his sneakers. He was the kind of person you wouldn’t expect much from, but when everything went wrong, he’d be right there next to you. We’d been friends for just over a year, and ever since, it was like he just knew when I was feeling off. Like a connection from another life.

But at that moment, on the bus, Grover just hunched his shoulders and tried to pretend that the chunks of peanut butter and ketchup sandwich Nancy was throwing into his curly hair weren’t bothering him. But I saw his ears trembling. I saw that and thought: “Hold it, Percy. Don’t screw this up now.”

Because, of course, I couldn’t do anything. I was already being watched. The principal had threatened me with an in-school suspension — which, honestly, is worse than a regular suspension. It means you have to come to school but can’t go to class. You just sit in a room all day doing stupid assignments. If anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly fun happened... I’d be toast.

And there was Nancy, acting like the queen of comedy, tossing sandwiches at Grover while I counted to ten. Twice.

(Spoiler: it went bad. Really bad.)

[hauntedwizardtree]

i hauve a cold

[hauntedwizardtree]

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

[hauntedwizardtree]

You're about to close on your very own, suspiciously affordable and comfortable house. Just before you sign the contract, the realtor shows you the required legal disclosure: your new house is haunted by the type of presence you'll get from this spinner wheel.

Of course it is.

[hauntedwizardtree]

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

dentist

distillery

docks

dovecot

dyer

embassy

farmer's market

fighting pit

fishmonger

fortune teller

gallows

gatehouse

general store

graveyard

greenhouses

guard post

guildhall

gymnasium

haberdashery

haunted house

hedge maze

herbalist

hospice

hospital

house for sale

inn

jail

jeweller

kindergarten

leatherworker

library

locksmith

mail courier

manor house

market

mayor's house

monastery

morgue

museum

music shop

observatory

orchard

orphanage

outhouse

paper maker

pawnshop

pet shop

potion shop

potter

printmaker

quest board

residence

restricted zone

sawmill

school

scribe

sewer entrance

sheriff's office

shrine

silversmith

spa

speakeasy

spice merchant

sports stadium

stables

street market

tailor

tannery

tavern

tax collector

tea house

temple

textile shop

theatre

thieves guild

thrift store

tinker's workshop

town crier post

town square

townhall

toy store

trinket shop

warehouse

watchtower

water mill

weaver

well

windmill

wishing well

wizard tower

[hauntedwizardtree]

me: I'm exhausted, but I need to push through anyway

my brain: get some rest, if you don't have your health you don't have anything

me: ... you do realize that quote is from THE VILLIAN in the princess bride, right? Why should I take health advice from a man who tortures people as a hobby?

[hauntedwizardtree]

[hauntedwizardtree]

Heads up, folks: If you get a mean comment from a guest account trashing your story and mentioning AI (ChatGPT, Sudo, Holo, etc.), it's a bot comment.

There's a new wave, and the comments are pretty varied and hurtful, but they're bots. Don't delete or report—mark as spam instead.

Examples I've seen:

Is this supposed to be a story or an AI experiment gone wrong?

Did you even glance at ChatGPT's output before slapping it on the page?

NovelAI's stories are like fast food: cheap, unsatisfying, and ultimately forgettable.

Another day, another bland, uninspired fanfiction courtesy of Sudowrite AI.

HoloAI could write a better story on sleep mode.

[hauntedwizardtree]

Morgana- I am the High Priestess! I alone speak to the triple goddess!

Merlin- That's the difference between you and me.

You speak to the gods.

Emrys voice- ψ̷͍̈ ̵̥̀͛ ̷͖͓́̿̄͜I̵͓̿͘͝ ̸̲̃̉A̵͖̗̎Ḿ̶̱̈́ͅ ̷͈́̈́O̴̡̐͛̍N̶̺̝̙̾̑͒E̸̖̠͗̀ ̵̡͇̰̓ ̵̱͂́ ̶͑̀́

[hauntedwizardtree]

#me

REX: Voiced by Wallace Shawn

Toy Story (1995) dir. John Lasseter & Toy Story 3 (2010) dir. Lee Unkrich

[hauntedwizardtree]

So anyways with the rapid rise of fascism I feel it’s a good time to point out that it’s perfectly legal to follow unjust orders slowly, badly, or inefficiently

[hauntedwizardtree]

RIP Joann, now what?

I wanted to make a post I could copy and paste and or link when I see folks asking where to buy fabrics when Joann is gone. I sew a lot, generally between 100-200 items a year and I don't do it on a big budget. Stores are not in a particular order.

Notions:

Wawak.com - start here, mostly stay here. Wawak is a supplier for professional sewing businesses and have the prices that show it. I will not pay for gutermann Mara 100 anywhere else. I buy buttons, tools, thread, and most elastic here.

Stitch Love Studio - this is where I buy lingerie supplies https://www.etsy.com/shop/StitchLoveStudio?ref=yr_purchases

Fabric:

Fabric Mart - this is one where you want to sign up for emails and never buy unless its on sale. They run different sales every day and they rotate. Mostly deadstock fabrics but I buy more from here than anywhere else. Fantastic customer service and if you watch you can get things like $6 wool suiting or $4 cotton jersey. https://fabricmartfabrics.com/

Fabrics-Store - again, buy the sales not the full price. Sign up for the emails but redirect them to a folder because it is TOO MANY. They stock linen or good but not amazing quality. https://www.fabrics-store.com/

Purple Seamstress - This is where I buy my solid cotton lycra jersey. They have other things, but the jersey is what I'm here for. Inexpensive and very good quality. If you ask she will mail you a swatch card for the solids. https://purpleseamstressfabric.com/

LA Finch - deadstock fabrics with a fantastic remnant selection https://lafinchfabrics.myshopify.com/

Califabrics - mix of deadstock and big brands, easy to navigate and always seem to have good denim in stock. https://califabrics.com/

Boho Fabrics - good variety, nice bundles. I have also gotten some really great trims from here. https://www.bohofabrics.com/

Firecracker Fabrics - garment and quilting fabrics, really nice selection and great sale section. I've bought $5 yard quilting cottons here several times. https://www.firecrackerfabrics.com/

Hancock's of Paducah - Quilting fabric and some limited garment fabric. AMAZING sale section. Do not sleep on the sale section. This is my first stop when buying quilting fabrics. Usually the last stop too. Not particularly speedy shipping. https://www.hancocks-paducah.com/

Itokri - This is something a little different. Itokri is an Indian business with incredible traditional fabrics. Shipping to the US is expensive, but the fabric is so inexpensive it evens out. I generally end up paying like $30 for shipping. Beautiful ikat and block prints. https://itokri.com/

Miss Matatabi - this is a little treat. This isn't where you go to save money, but there are so many beautiful things in this shop. Ships from Japan incredibly quickly. https://shop.missmatatabi.com/

Lucky Deluxe - Craft thrift store, always has an incredible selection and fantastic customer service. I need to close the tab fast because I never go to this website without finding something I need. https://www.luckydeluxefabrics.com/

Swanson's - the OG of online craft thrift stores, but I find their website harder to navigate. https://www.swansonsfabrics.com

Honorary Mentions: I haven't shopped at these places yet but I have had them recommended and likely will at some point.

A Thrifty Notion - https://athriftynotion.com/

Creative Closeouts - https://creativecloseoutsfabric.com/ being rebranded to sewsnip.com on March 1 - quilting deadstock

Hawthorne Supply Co. - I just got this rec and I think I need to not look too closely or I'm going to slip with my debit card. https://www.hawthornesupplyco.com/

This is not an exhaustive list of everywhere you can buy fabric, or even a full list of where I shop. There are SO many options out there in the world. You also need to think outside the fabric store box. I thrift men's shirt fabrics for quilts and sheets for backing fabric. I don't do a ton of in person thrifting and my local stores don't get a lot of craft materials but every thrift store is its own universe and reflects the community it is in. Go out and find something cool.

Oh and final note: Don't shop at Hobby Lobby.

[hauntedwizardtree]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.