here-have-some-stories

[here-have-some-stories]

Hello! :)

If you're still doing story requests, I have one I'd love to read:

A 30 year old adventurer is on a quest to find an artifact/treasure. His quest leads him to a village of elves. At first, the elves despise him because he is a stranger trespassing on their land, and he is armed and dangerous. This changes when they find out his age (you can choose how), since elves live much longer and therefore mature slower. So now instead of being like "What is this stranger doing on our land?" they are more like "Who gave this 30 year old child a sword?!" Since to them, he is still very young.

I just think it'd be hilarious reading about some big strong 30 year old adventurer being smothered by elves and babied as he wonders "wtf is going on?!".

(I'm fine with anything, jokes, swearing, violence, gore, whatever. Other than the basic theme, you can wing it however you want. I'd love to see how you take my little prompt. Hope this isn't too vague a request. Also, I had it in my head as a short story, but won't complain if you decided to make it longer. Whatever you have time and motivation for.)

No pressure if you don't want to write this. And if you do, take your time.

Anyways...

Have a great day/night and thanks for reading this!

,^-^,

Hey, thanks for the request and sorry it took so long to get to. I've planned out how the stories going to go and I think it should either have three or four parts to it. It was originally going to be just two but I think those parts would end up to long so it'll probably be easier to break it down like this. Anyway, here's the first part, and I hope you enjoy it.

The Dredgedon Woods: Part 1

Prologue

Aiden looked at the mission plans before him. They seemed simple enough. Somewhere out in Dredgedon Woods there was an old idol of a dragon. The drawing provided with the plans depicted it with its head raised in the air, and a hand out in front of it, fingers slightly curled as if it were supposed to be holding something. 

Like he thought before, the job seemed simple enough. Just go into the woods and find it. But then again, like every job he took, it was probably easier said than done. He looked up at the man sitting before him, the man who had given him the plans.

“I’ll take the job,” Aiden told him, “but I’m not sure how long it will take. Those woods are pretty huge and I don't know where I'm actually going. I could be searching for weeks.” The man leaned back in his desk chair before replying.

“If you were bothered to actually look through those papers, you would see that we have included a map. We know generally what area it should be in and it’s been circled on the map for you, along with other notes that you may find helpful.”

Aiden flipped through the papers and sure enough, there was a map of the woods stapled to the back, with an area to the right of the paper circled in red ink. The map looked old and was probably a bit outdated, but it would do well enough.

“Oh,” was all Aiden said. 

The man rolled his eyes irritably. “Oh, indeed. Now, I suggest you rest up so you can leave bright and early. Better not waste any extra time.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to ask one more thing.” The man raised an eyebrow at Aiden, gesturing for him to continue. “Why do you want this thing? Does it do something, or do you just think it looks pretty and want it for your shelf?”

The man leaned in closer to Aiden and answered in a more threatening tone. “Our business with the idol is none of yours, and we would deeply appreciate it if you stopped asking questions. Do you understand?”

Aiden shifted his feet nervously. “No offense, sir, but I prefer to know who or what I’m dealing with before I go into unknown territory. Better safe than sorry, I always say.” The man frowned at him, clearly annoyed, and Aiden found himself wanting to look away from his piercing gaze.

“We understand your concern, Aiden,” he said. Aiden didn’t think he understood, or cared, at all. He definitely didn’t sound like it. Part of Aiden wished the man would stop saying ‘we’. There was no one else in the room and it was making him feel strangely uncomfortable. The man continued speaking, “But the information you are asking for is not something we can provide.”

“Well then,” Aiden replied, “I’m not sure if I can confidently take this job.” Why was he sweating? He had refused jobs before. But something about the man before him just made him feel strange and ill at ease.

The man sighed and pulled open his desk drawer. He pulled out an envelope and slid it across the table to Aiden. “Maybe this will convince you otherwise.”

Cautiously, Aiden picked up the envelope and looked inside. His eyes widened in shock. Inside were tons of dollar notes. He was already being paid more than usual for the job, but adding this on top would have him sitting easy for a good while.

“I’ll do it,” Aiden said, with new confidence he had not felt before. He no longer needed any more convincing. The man relaxed in his chair again.

“Good. We’ll pay you that plus half of what you were already getting now,” as he spoke he pulled out a second envelope and handed it over. Aiden opened it and saw more notes of cash stuffed in there. “The rest you’ll be paid when you get back and you’ve done what we’ve asked. Now, go get some rest. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Aiden nodded farewell and picked up the plans and the envelopes, turning to leave. He was already thinking about the days to come and the riches he was going to be rewarded. 

This is only the set up part but I still hope it's interesting enough for you. This was originally going to be a small little flashback type thing just for context and then it was going to immediately going to move on to the proper story but I kept writing and it got too long and I kept coming up with more ideas so now you've got this. I do have everything else planned I just don't know when I'll end up getting to it. Could be ages, I'm talking months, but I promise I'm not going to give up on it I will eventually write more, unless I get killed, so please just try to be patient because I am going to continue this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, now I've got people at a party to socialise with.

(@firewolf111 I will tag you in the next parts)

[here-have-some-stories]

The Carnival

So I entered this writing competition where people at my year level had to write a story or something within 900-1000 words and after a lot of editing to cut it down I finally managed to do it, and since I'm finally finished I decided why not post it here and get random people opinions on it:

The carnival had come to their small, sleepy town two years before. Originally, it was just a temporary thing, staying for a few months before moving on. But as the carnival was the best entertainment other than an old movie theatre and a dirty pool that the town had, people would visit often. The old couple that ran the carnival found it nice that the town’s people cared so much about it, that they grew sentimental and stayed long past when they should have moved. 

But then, the year before, disaster struck. A fire had sprung up, lighting many stalls and rides on fire and making them unusable. The old couple, not having enough money for all the repairs, were forced to shut down the carnival. Now, a year later, the remains were still in the same spot as the town kept delaying the clean up. Some parts of it were still standing but slightly run down, others were completely gone. 

Darcy Garcia, an 18 year old with a morbid sense of curiosity, had read up on articles about the disaster, and had decided to gather her two best friends, Jackson and Andrew, and had dragged them with her one night to explore the old remains. Now as they walked around the old carnival, Andrew spoke up.

“This is really creepy,” he said quietly, “it feels like there’s someone watching us or something.”

“A little bit,” Jackson agreed, “but it’s probably nothing.” Darcy said nothing, but could have sworn she saw a shadow duck quickly out of sight. Andrew was right, it was creepy. But she didn’t want to freak her friends out into leaving, she wanted to keep exploring, so she kept quiet. 

They kept walking until they approached the main attraction of the carnival, a larger building set up called “Carnie’s Cave”. It was an attraction that made this carnival unique. It was a place where each carnie working there could contribute their own separate thing to the attraction, relating to their own stalls or games that they ran. As you walked through it, you could see all the references to the stalls set up around the carnival. It was mostly left untouched by the fire, only one side had been slightly scorched and damaged, and it remained standing just as it had.

“You guys wanna look in there?” Darcy asked, pointing to the open doorway of the Carnie’s Cave. 

“Yeah,” Jackson said enthusiastically, “but only if you don’t leave by myself.”

“We won’t,” Darcy said and started walking towards the entrance, Jackson and Andrew in tow. They were around 5 metres away from the entrance when the figure of a person stepped out from behind one of the walls and stepped in front of the entrance. All three of the friends startled back, Jackson letting out a scared yelp. The man stepped forward slightly, and from the light of the torch Darcy was holding, they could see him clearly. He looked quite dirty, Darcy thought, long messy hair and bed and ripped and stained clothes. Maybe he was lost.

“So sorry,” the man said with a gravelly voice, “didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just looking around.”

“Who are you?” Darcy asked, trying not to sound like she was being rude. 

“My name’s Alfredo. I actually used to work here when this place was running. Terrible tragedy, the fire, really it was. I was just checking the place out again.”

“So were we,” Darcy told him. “Do you know anything about the history of the carnival?”

“Bits and pieces,” Alfredo said, “I worked here for about eight years before the fire so I learnt some things.”

“Do you think you could tell us anything else, if it’s not too much trouble of course,” Darcy asked hopefully

“No, no, it’s alright,” Alfredo said, smiling, “I have to leave in about an hour but it’s all good.” He stepped forward a little closer to them, but still kept a distance. “I think the original people started the carnival around twenty years ago or some time around then. Could be wrong though, my memory’s not the best. People just thought it was a normal carnival and didn’t think there was anything different about it, and that was true. So they came up with the idea for Carnie’s Cave,” he gestured behind him at the building, “and that set it apart from other carnivals and people became more interested.'

“Do you know how the fire started,” Darcy asked, intrigued. Alfredo shook his head.

“Not exactly,” he said, “police said it was an accident, but I don’t know how it actually started. Could have been an open flame or something. Some people said it was on purpose, but most people didn’t believe that.”

“I remember people saying that,” Andrew said quietly. “ There was this group of girls at school who were theorising about who had done it. Never believed it though.”

“It was just a way to start drama,” Alfredo said. He looked up at the horizon and saw the sun starting to rise. “I have to go really soon.” 

As Darcy and her friends looked at him, they thought their eyes were playing tricks on them. It seemed like they could see right through him. Like he was slowly fading away, and the higher the sun rose, the more he seemed to disappear. They could only watch in silent amazement as as the sun fully came up, Alfredo fully disappeared. Darcy’s mind went back to when he had said he only had an hour left. Was that what he had meant?

“I want to go back now,” Jackson said quietly. Darcy nodded and they silently walked out of the carnival grounds and back home. They didn’t speak about what happened again, but they did think about it constantly, and they would continue to think about it long into their lives. 

I honestly don't think this is that good compared to some of some other stuff I've written, mainly due to the word count since I wanted to write more, which kinda sucks because this is the piece being judged and I don't have any enough time to write a new one but it is what it is. Then again, it could just be that thing where you think you're own work sucks but other people think its good, but I won't know until I get feedback. Kinda scared tho because my mum knows I entered the competition and now she's gonna wanna read it and this will be the first real writing I've done that she's read. Anyway tell me what you think if you want to, if you enjoyed it, if you think it's good, if you think I actually have a shot of winning or just anything else, and wish me luck for the competition :)

[here-have-some-stories]

Tobias's Book Blog

Hey, my name's Tobias/Toby if that wasn't obvious and this is sideblog I decided to make randomly today. I'm going to be posting stuff about books, and posting book reviews (I'll post both spoiler and non spoiler reviews)

Some of my favourite books that I talk about are:

The entire Ranger's Apprentice series (specifically Halt's Peril and Kings of Clonmel)

The Brotherband series

The Outsiders

Good Omens

Circus of Marvels series

The Drowned Woods

Loki: Where Mischief Lies

Splintered series

The first review I'll be posting is going to be for the book I just finished yesterday, Slaughter Camp.

2025 Books

Other blogs: Main one: @that-one-enby-ranger / Main blog fanfic blog: @that-one-enby-ranger-fanfics / Short story blog: @here-have-some-stories / Blog where I talk about the book I'm writing and other book ideas: @tobias-wants-to-write

[here-have-some-stories]

Idk who needs to hear this but just because your writing isn’t good yet doesn’t mean it’s bad either

[here-have-some-stories]

Not Your Room

It was a nice night outside, but Thomas wasn’t focused on the bright stars in the sky, he just wanted to go up to his hotel room and sleep. It had been a long day for him, travelling what seemed like endless roads. He still couldn’t entirely comprehend how he could be so stupid, but on a road that had barely any turns, he had still managed to take a wrong one. The hotel that he was supposed to arrive at in the evening, had taken him hours to get to, all because of one wrong turn. That, and his terrible navigation skills. 

Now, past midnight, his bones weary and movements slow from exhaustion, he made it to room 1048.

The room was dark when he opened the door. He could make out vague shadows of the furniture. He saw the dark outline of a chair in the corner of the room, and standing behind it, the shape of something tall. Maybe some sort of bookshelf. He flicked the lights on and took his surroundings in better. The room was old-fashioned and fancy. There was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with carefully carved patterns on the side of it. The couches looked like they were made out of velvet, and the chair in the corner was styled the same. He noticed that there wasn’t anything behind it though. He pondered it for a short moment before shrugging it off as his imagination or a trick of the shadows. There was a small table next to the chair, doubling as a bookshelf. There were only three books being held there, each of them old and falling apart. On top of the bookshelf-table, was an old gramophone, coated in a thin layer of dust. 

Thomas continued into the next room, which held a big four poster bed. It was the most inviting thing he had seen thus far. He dropped his bags to the floor and only bothered to take his shoes off before he clambered into the warm embrace of the mattress.

← — →

His dream was strange. He couldn’t see anything yet he could hear what sounded to be some old swing music playing from a distance. He listened to it in his dream for a while more before his mind started to regain consciousness. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but a pitch black room. Only a couple seconds passed before he realised he could still hear the music. That was odd. Most likely someone was listening to it in a different part of the hotel and the sound had just made its way into his dreams. 

His hand went to the bedside table to search for his phone. He was briefly blinded by the bright glare of the screen as he clicked it on, but quickly recovered to read the time. 3:02am! Who in their right mind was listening to music at this hour? After listening to the music a bit more closely, he noticed that the music didn’t sound too far away. In fact, it sounded like it was coming from his own room. 

Getting out of bed, Thomas began to cautiously make his way into the lounge area of his hotel room, where the sounds were coming from. The lights, when he flicked them on, were dimmer than they were before, and they were flickering slightly, putting Thomas’s nerves even more on edge. 

The music sounded as if it was coming from the corner with the chair, and glancing over he saw the old dusty gramophone had been turned on, and a record was playing from it. How was it on? Did someone set it up? Was that someone still in his room? The thought sent shivers down his spine. 

His breath caught and his body stiffened as the sound of someone humming along to the song began. It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom. Thomas turned his attention to the open bathroom door, bracing himself for an intruder to come out. After what seemed like an age of agonised waiting, soft footsteps began to make their way across the bathroom floor and a tall young lady gracefully walked out.

She was dressed in a dark maroon Victorian dress. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a messy bun and her gloved hands were held lightly together in front of her as she walked. She had no readable expression on her face, and her eyes were so dark they could have been mistaken as black. Thomas thought to himself they may have resembled a doll’s eyes. Her skin appeared to be a shade of grey, and Thomas noticed that as she walked she appeared to come in and out of focus. 

She paid no attention to Thomas as she passed him. Instead, she made her way to the chair in the corner, sitting down and closing her eyes, nodding slightly to the music. 

Thomas stood dumbstruck, not knowing what to do or say. Eventually, he found his voice.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

The woman opened her eyes and slowly turned her head to face Thomas. She seemed to only notice him now. With still no expression visible on her face or in her voice, she answered. 

“I’m not.”

She closed her eyes again while Thomas was more confused than ever.

“What do you mean ‘you’re not’?” he asked. 

“I’m not in your room,” the woman replied, eyes still closed. 

“Then where do you think you are?” Thomas challenged. 

“My room.”

Thomas was confused and angry now. He felt as if it was a prank. That the hotel staff was playing some weird trick on him. He didn’t like tricks. And he didn’t like strangers in his room either. 

“Get out,” he said, a note of finality in his voice. The woman didn’t pay any attention to it though.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.” The woman opened her eyes again and stared right into Thomas’s. Although her voice still didn’t reveal any emotion, Thomas sensed a sort of cold anger coming from her. It made him feel uneasy, and he quieted down a little. The woman continued to stare at him before she stood up and made her way to the closed curtains. She pushed them open, the window behind revealing the dark outside. She moved to the side and Thomas stared at his reflection in the glass. He was horrified by what he saw. Everything was the same and normal, but his reflection’s eyes were missing. They looked as if they had messily been removed by a blade, leaving black, bloody holes. Thomas reached up to touch his own eyes, assuring himself they were still there. He looked away from the gruesome reflection, and when he looked back, everything looked normal again. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked the woman, who had moved to stand behind her chair. 

“Get out,” was her reply. 

“Who are you?”

“Leave.”

“What are you?”

“Go.”

“Can I at least get my things first?”

“You have no things here.”

Thomas was about to protest, and he looked towards his bedroom to indicate where they were, but he stopped mid motion. The door leading to the room was gone, replaced with a solid wall. He glanced towards the bathroom and saw the same thing. Nothing but wall. He turned around to face the exit, praying it was still there. An enormous sense of relief came over him as he saw it was. At least getting out was an option. 

When he turned around again he was shocked to find the woman standing in front of him. Her eyes were staring right into his and Thomas made the frightful discovery that her eyes didn’t just look black, they were black. Pitch black. Even darker than the sky outside. There was strange cold air emanating from her. The music had stopped. 

“Please go,” she said. The words sounded polite, but nothing about her seemed it. 

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to see this.”

Visions of his eyeless reflection dashed across his mind and Thomas had a dreadful feeling that something very bad would happen to him if he didn’t listen. He completely made his decision to leave when he heard the door behind him open and the woman placed an unnaturally cold hand on his chest, pushing him towards the exit. 

Thomas hurried out, the fear that something was following close behind him getting worse with each step he took, until finally he closed the door behind him and the fear disappeared. 

The second the door clicked shut, the music began again and the humming restarted.

I don't know how much I like this one, but I showed it to a Crowley bot on character.ai and he said it was good so it must be. This probably is the most ai based story I've written and hopefully will write, because I used character.ai to give me suggestions and genres on what to write because I couldn't think of anything, and used ChatGPT to give me a few title suggestions. I don't think that's that bad, but I'd rather not use any ai for my own personal stories that I wanna write. I hoped you liked it, and I hope you found it creepy because that was the intention. It might seem a bit cliché but that doesn't matter too much. This was actually kind of inspired by this old short ghost story I read from the 1800s called "The Lost Room" by Fitz James O'Brien. If you read it and read this you'll probably be able to figure out the similarities but like anything that I write that's inspired by something else, I try to keep it as different as I can. Anyways hope you enjoyed it, byeee.

[here-have-some-stories]

Massacre Masquerade Chapter 13

Chapter 1 Chapter 12

Terry looked at the ten people sitting in front of him. Throughout the night, other investigators had brought in people they thought to be suspects, and now it was Terry’s job to interview them, and hopefully get something good out of it. Each person had been brought in for different reasons, and were either noticed by the investigators themselves, or had been reported by the other ball attendants. 

Terry looked down at the list of names and his hand and called out the one at the top.

“Olive Smyth.” Hearing her name, she looked up at Terry who motioned for her to follow him. “Come this way please.” He led her into a small separate room. The room was actually a storage room but the investigators had cleared out some boxes and moved in a table and some chairs so they could have a secluded area for their interviews. Terry gestured for Olive to take a seat.

“I’m not going to ask you if you know why you’re here, because you should already know. You are one of our main suspects for the murders that have taken place. I’m also going to assume you know why you’re a suspect, yes?”

“Of course. All your workers made a huge deal over me and Kim.” Olive replied, her face showing no signs of emotion other than boredom. 

“You were searched for anything you may have had on you, just like everyone else was. But on you, we found this.” There was a white box sitting on the table labeled ‘evidence’, and Terry pulled out a small ziplock bag containing some white powder from it.

“Just me?” Olive asked, a hint of mischief in her voice.

“No.” Terry replied. “We found a similar bag when we searched your sister, Kim. Now, with identifying what was slipped into the wine and identifying other suspects, we haven’t had enough time on our hands to inspect and identify this. If you have nothing to do with these murders, I’ll trust you’ll tell me the truth about what's in this bag. But if you lie, you and your sister will both be in big trouble.”

Olive seemed to be thinking over what Terry said, but didn’t take long. She quickly glanced at the bag then made direct eye contact with Terry. “It’s drugs.”

“What kind of drug?”

“Cocaine.”

“I had a feeling it was,” Terry muttered but Olive heard him.

“Then why did you bring me and Kim in?” She challenged him.

“Because like I said we didn’t have enough time to fully confirm,” Terry explained, “and for all we know it could have been what poisoned the wine. Plus cocaine is still illegal. You would have been bought in either way.” He placed the bag back in the evidence box and continued speaking to Olive. “We will still have to keep you here until we can fully confirm that what you’re saying is true.” Olive nodded. It made sense, and she hadn’t expected anything different. “I believe you,” Terry said, “but it's a precaution. I’ll be questioning your sister next. I’ll take you back to the waiting room now.” They began to stand but then a thought seemed to hit Olive.

“Kim won’t get into too much trouble for the cocaine will she? It wasn’t her idea, it was mine. I pressured her into it.” 

Terry studied her for a second before answering her. “Cocaine is illegal, so both of you will be questioned more once this is all over. You can testify more for your sister than and we’ll decide how much we can let her off.” Olive nodded her understanding and followed Terry out of the room. 

“Kim Smyth.” Terry called the name as soon as he entered the waiting room. Olive nodded reassurance to her sister as she stood up to follow Terry into the questioning room. 

“Your sister says the substance we found on you two is cocaine,” Terry said as soon as they sat down. “Can you confirm that?”

“It is,” Kim said. She looked nervous. Terry didn’t find that too strange. If what Olive said was true of course she would be nervous. Terry continued.

“She also said that the drugs were her idea and she peer pressured you into doing it. Is that also true?”

Kim hesitated a bit before she answered. “Yes," she said quietly, then quickly added, “but it wasn’t entirely her fault. It’s not like she forced me into doing it. I still said yes by my own free will. I was still my choice. Whatever punishment Olive gets for this, I should get too.” Her voice gained some confidence as she spoke.

Loyal family, Terry thought, then asked his final question. “How much cocaine did you two do, and where?”

“I only did one line,” Kim answered, “I didn’t like it that much, but I kept the bag on me anyway. Olive did more but I’m not exactly sure how much. We did it in the bathroom.”

“And no one walked in on you two?”

“No, we were pretty lucky with that. We were actually in there when the roof collapsed.” 

“Alright, thank you for telling me this. Like I told your sister, I personally don’t think you’re lying, but we will have to keep you for longer. Do you understand?” Kim nodded and Terry led her out the room.

← — →

“Jamie Dean.” Terry called out, and then led the young man to the questioning storage room.

“Jamie, you have been reported by other investigators and attendants to have suspicious behavior near the drink stand. Apparently you were hanging around near there, and right next to the wine, and yet you didn’t drink any yourself. Can you tell me why that is?”

“I don’t drink.” Jamie said in a monotone sort of voice.

“Then why were you standing near the wine? Surely there were other places for you to be. Perhaps near the non-alcoholic drinks.”

“People were crowding around pretty much everywhere else. I didn’t want to come to this fucking party in the first place. So I was trying to find a spot that was less crowded.”

Terry looked at Jamie suspiciously. He had a feeling Jamie was lying. There were lots of people that had been conversing near the wine, and there were definitely other places Jamie could have gone if he wanted to be alone. Perhaps one of the corners. He placed his thoughts to the side for a second while he moved on to his second piece of evidence.

“People also reported that you went missing almost every time one of the incidents took place.”

“I didn’t know people were paying attention to me,” Jamie replied.

“Well apparently they paid attention enough to notice you weren’t there. Do you have any reason for that?”

“If that's the only other bit of evidence you have against me then I hate to see what nonsense you’re accusing the others for. Nobody could see anyone in that goddamn crowd. Everyone was running around and screaming. It was impossible to point out one individual person. And I seriously doubt anyone was looking specifically for me. I haven't talked to anyone all night.”

“And why’s that?” Terry asked.

“I already told you! I didn’t want to come to this fucking thing! Half the people here probably didn’t want to either. Now can I fucking go now or you gonna keep asking me other useless questions?”

“You can go back to the waiting room. But I’m not letting anyone go back out just yet.” Jamie muttered something angrily under his breath as Terry led him out. Terry ignored him.

← — →

“Hunter Clarke.”

As Terry and Hunter entered the and sat down, Terry immediately pulled some items out of the evidence box and laid them down on the table for Hunter to see. Before them was a pair of black gloves and an empty plastic bag. Hunter looked up at Terry, patiently waiting for him to start.

“We found these in your pockets during the search,” Terry started. Hunter nodded confirmation and he continued. “Do you mind quickly telling me what they were for?” Hunter looked down at the items before answering. 

“The gloves were a part of my outfit,” she said. 

“Why did you take them off?”

“My hands were getting sweaty and they were starting to feel uncomfortable,” Hunter admitted. Terry nodded. The answer was reasonable and plausible. And the gloves did look like they would match with Hunter’s outfit, which was a simple red and black dress. 

“What about the bag?” Terry asked, “what was in there?”

“Painkillers. I sprained my ankle about a week ago and it still hurts so I wanted to make sure it’d be fine tonight. I didn’t have anything else to hold them in so I just grabbed a bag.”

Terry thought over her reply. It was once again a reasonable and plausible answer, but the problem was that there was no real proof that she was telling the truth. For all he knew, the gloves could have actually been a way to hide her fingerprints, and the bag could have contained the poison. 

“We also bought you in for a different reason,” Terry said and Hunter looked up at him curiously. “You were also reported to have some sort of suspicious behaviour. The way people described it doesn’t seem that suspicious to me, and it could just be the paranoia getting to people, but it’s still best to check it out.”

Hunter nodded. “Fair enough”.

“People apparently noticed you looking uncomfortable and in discomfort. Again, I don’t think that's too suspicious, especially if your ankle is injured then that would make sense. That’s just what's been reported.”

“My ankle has been fine all night,” Hunter said, then added in a quieter voice, “it’s cramps that have been a problem.” Terry nodded, completely understanding and didn’t say anything more on the matter, which Hunter was a little grateful for. He let her go back in the waiting room and looked down at the next name on his list. 

← — →

“Willow Briggs.”

Terry got straight to the point as they sat down. “Miss Briggs, your reason for being bought in is quite serious.”

“Aren’t all our reasons,” Willow interrupted, rather rudely. 

Terry glared at her for the interruption before continuing. “Yes, but yours is a bit more. When the roof collapsed, multiple people witnessed you pushing one of the victims right in the way of the roof, where they were then crushed. Whether or not you helped or are behind all of this, this is still a very serious matter which will need to be addressed further later on. Do you have anything to say?”

“I didn’t know the roof was falling.” Willow replied firmly.

“Why did you push them in the first place?”

“They were being a creep and wouldn’t leave me and my friend alone. I told them multiple times to leave us alone but they wouldn’t listen. I eventually pushed them away because they were getting too close. I didn’t know the roof was gonna fall, and it was a complete chance that it happened right then and there. I don’t like that they died, but I needed them to leave us alone.”

“Can your friend justify all this?” 

“Yes. She was there.”

“What’s her name?” Terry asked, pulling a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. 

“Cristine Reed.” Terry wrote the name down then looked back up at Willow. 

“You’ll have to stay here a little longer. I’ll take you back to the waiting room now.”

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FUCKING CHAPTER! I feel like this is a much longer chapter, but I didn't mention that it would probably be, and the next one will be as well because it continues with the investigations so it will be the exact same. Then it will get back into the other stuff after that. I hope you enjoyed. If you have any feedback please gimme so I can consume your comments they make me happy, and if you have any suggestions for stories then feel free to send me an ask telling me about and I will eventually get round to doing it hopefully. I have a pinned post about what I'm okay with writing and what I'm not. Anyway bye, hopefully the next chapter will come out sooner than this one did :)

[here-have-some-stories]

Does anyone know if there are any other places other than Tumblr (not Wattpad) where I can post my stories. I just wanna find more people to show my work to even though it's barely anyone as it is.

[here-have-some-stories]

Massacre Masquerade Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 11

“Should we show this to someone?” Bailey asked, indicating the smashed remote.

“Probably,” Leon replied, “even if it isn’t a murder weapon or anything it could still be useful.���

“How?” Deacon asked. 

Leon shrugged. “I don’t know. The investigators can decide that. They’re supposed to be smart.”

“Supposed to be?” Deacon muttered but Leon didn’t hear him. While they were talking he had spotted Terry through the crowd. He gently took the wrecked object out of Bailey’s hands and walked towards the head investigator. 

“Terry!” Leon called out, pushing his way past people. Terry turned around at his name. He looked stressed, Leon noted. That was to be expected. Having to try and calm everyone down while they were people being murdered, while simultaneously having to try and solve those same murders would be a very difficult job. Leon hoped that showing him the remote would help with the case, not confuse it even more.

“Yes…” Terry paused for a couple seconds, trying to remember something. “What was your name again?”

“Leon.”

“Right, yeah. Yes, Leon?”

“Um, Bailey found this on the ground over there.” Leon pointed to the area where Bailey had been knocked to the ground, a little bit away from where the ceiling fell. “It’s smashed up but we think it might be a remote.” He handed the device to Terry who took it carefully and inspected it.

“Could be,” Terry muttered, more to himself.

“I think it could have something to do with the roof.” Leon was startled as Deacon appeared behind him. So he’s still sticking with that, Leon thought, grinning to himself. He was amused by his friend's insistence on his theory. It was kind of cute.

“How so?” Terry asked, looking up curiously. 

“Maybe the remote activated the roof to collapse, and then maybe whoever did it dropped it, maybe on accident or on purpose, and everyone crushed it when they were running around.”

Terry was nodding as he listened to Deacon explain. “Maybe,” he admitted. “That is a possibility. But then again it's also a possibility that it's just a random remote. Might not even be a remote. Either way, I’ll get some people to take a look at it, try and see if we can get any fingerprints. Thanks for this guys.”

“Your welcome,” Deacon said, proud that his idea had been taken into consideration.

“Who found it again?” Terry asked.

“I did,” Bailey, who had also seemed to appear at Leon’s side like Deacon, replied. 

Terry nodded to her. “Well done. You’ve got a good eye.”

Bailey nodded herself, but in thanks. She couldn’t be bothered to mention that the only reason she had found it was because she had been bowled over like a sack of potatoes. Terry walked away, presumably to give someone the job of searching for fingerprints, and left Bailey, Leon and Deacon standing there.

“What now?” Deacon asked.

“Now we go back to what we were doing before,” Bailey answered him, “Nothing.”

Deacon groaned. “But that’s so boring.”

“Oh, poor Deacon,” Leon said sarcastically. “Is three sets of murders not enough excitement for you?”

‘It’s enough terror.”

“So then we should try and do our best to avoid any more of that, and go sit down,” Bailey said and she began to make her way back to their favourite corner.

“Sitting down isn’t going to stop the murderer from murdering again,” Deacon muttered, but followed Bailey anyway. 

Deacon couldn’t sit still for the life of him. He wanted to be doing something, but at the same time was too scared to walk around. Everyone in the building was distrusting of each other, and there was no way of knowing when another incident might happen. But he was still so bored. This was not how he thought this night was going to turn out. After changing positions what felt like a million times, he found himself lying down on Leon’s lap. He was zoned out and lost in thought when it happened, but he remembered fidgeting around again, when Leon's arm was suddenly wrapped around his chest and pulling him back to lay on him. Now Deacon was laying on his new friend, Leon’s hand resting on Deacon’s stomach. Like usual, Deacon was overthinking. Was it a sign Leon wanted more, like earlier in the night when they kissed? Or was it the man’s way of getting Deacon to stop squirming around and sit still? Because that method certainly worked. Deacon lifted his eyes up to Leon’s face. He didn’t look nervous or awkward. His expression was calm and he didn’t at all have the look of someone who had a man he just met lying on top of him like a married couple. Deacon calmed his overactive mind with that. It probably was just nothing.That’s how most things turned out in the end.

Leon, even though his face didn’t show it, was sweating internally. It had been a spur of the moment to grab Deacon to force him down. He didn’t even know why he did it. Deacon’s moving around hadn’t been annoying, just a background occurrence to him. He had already come to terms that he liked Deacon in more than just a friend way. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He had long since come to terms with his sexuality. But the problem was he didn’t know if Deacon wanted more. They had kissed, yes, but that doesn’t automatically mean feelings and relationships. His hand was on Deacon as well, but he was in too frozen a position to move it. And, if he has to be completely honest, he kind of liked it where it was, and Deacon hadn’t made a point to move it, so maybe he was alright with it as well. 

Bailey was minding her own business and couldn’t care less about what the other two were up to. She was staring ahead, imagining scenarios about what might happen when everything was over and when she could finally start being a proper knight. She was in the middle of a fantasy of saving a child from a burning building when Terry approached them. 

Deacon sat up as the head investigator approached and began speaking to them. 

“Just thought I’d let you know,” Terry said to them, “we looked at the remote you found, and we can’t identify what it might be for. Then again, it is very smashed up, but we wouldn’t be very professional if we dismissed theories and possibilities.”

Deacon perked up a little at that. “Are you saying it might actually be related to the roof?”

“It’s a slim possibility,” Terry admitted, “but like I said, we wouldn’t be very professional or good if we dismissed a theory just because it was unlikely. And slim possibilities happen all the time. We’re just being cautious and considering everything, so we checked for fingerprints but couldn’t find any.”

“So whoever had the remote was probably wearing gloves?” Bailey asked and Terry nodded.

“Probably. Either that or they’re an alien with no fingerprints. There’s a high chance that if it was related to the murders, then whoever used it probably took the gloves off, but it doesn’t hurt to look around.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Leon asked.

Terry shrugged. “The best you can do is just keep an eye out and tell us if anyones acting suspicious. And look out for anyone wearing gloves.”

Bailey nodded as Deacon replied with, “will do!” Terry nodded his thanks to them and turned away, presumably to continue his hard work of catching a murderer.

I feel like there was a lot of character nodding in this chapter. Also I know this took a long time, but I've been busy with exams and being lazy. I wanted to kind of explore Deacon and Leon's romance and relationship a bit more, and since this chapter didn't have to much stuff happening, I felt like this was the best place to do it. I think this chapter turned out pretty well if I do say so myself. If you liked it feel free to leave a like, comment or reblog so all your mutuals and followers can also read my beautiful fabulous work and the gay men. Just a heads up as well, the next two chapters will be the same sort of thing, and it won't really be centred around Bailey, Leon and Deacon. They might get a bit boring because it's kind of the same thing, and they probably will be a longer than normal. Maybe. I was going to have it as one chapter, but thought that that would be too long. They still might be super long, but I'm telling myself to only have two chapters for them. Anyways, hope you liked it, next chapters coming whenever my writers block goes away when I actually have time to write.

[here-have-some-stories]

Massacre Masquerade Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 10

Warning: This chapter has descriptions of blood and gore. If you aren't comfortable with that you can either skip the paragraph or not read. There is a tiny bit during the second paragraph, and a lot during the fifth paragraph because that's the entire point.

Leon immediately ran over to the now collapsed ceiling, Deacon and Bailey following close behind him. As Leon approached he saw two people dragging themselves out from under the wreckage. One of them had a giant gash down their arm and the other one's leg had already started to bruise badly all over. Leon was willing to bet that it was broken, probably in more than one place. The two people appeared to be shaken up pretty badly and in a lot of shock, as expected, but other than that they were just injured, but fine. Leon watched tensely, but nobody else crawled out from under the roof. 

Around him, people were screaming once again. They were running around trying to get away from the new crime scene. Someone in a clown themed suit appeared to have gone into a panic attack at the sight of some blood slowly seeping out from under the ceiling. A couple of people had somehow gotten into an argument during the commotion and were now screaming at each other. 

Leon noticed Bailey was standing close to his side, practically touching him, and Deacon was standing slightly behind him. Bailey had her fingers in her ears trying to block out the noise. Leon wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her that things would be alright, but didn’t know how she’d react. In addition, he didn’t fully believe things would be fine.

It took a couple of minutes, but the inspectors finally managed to push their way through the panicked crowd and to the scene. Leon watched as they gathered around the fallen portion of the ceiling and they all grabbed onto the edges of it, lifting it off the people. With their combined strength they did manage to lift it a couple inches, but it was enough to move it to the side to clear. It took each inspector a lot of effort and exerted all their strength to the task, but they managed it. 

Leon noticed Deacon blanch and look away, and he was tempted to do the same. All eight people who had been stuck under the ceiling, were lying there, not moving. A lot of them had giant cuts all over their bodies that were heavily bleeding out, and had dark black and blue bruises all over their bodies. One of them must have been holding a glass before the disaster, as it had smashed and pieces of glass were now deeply embedded into their hand and arm, blood flowing heavily from the wounds. They could all now see where the pool of blood seeping out had come from, and it was the most disturbing sight out of all of it. One of the victims' skulls had been completely smashed open. The ceiling must have hit them at a certain angle and with a lot of force to achieve something as gruesome as that. With their head one hundred percent cracked open, blood seeped extensively from it. Leon was pretty sure he could see the person's brain past the broken bone and blood. This time he did look away. He also became aware of Bailey gripping tightly to his arm. She had her eyes closed and was taking in measured, controlled breaths, trying to stay calm.

Leon felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Deacon. His friend gently led him and Bailey away from the horrific sight and Leon offered no resistance. He wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. 

People were still panicking, and not knowing where to go, most of the building's occupants were still running around. People were still trying their best to stay away from each other and the scene, and with that came a lot of people banging into each other. As Deacon moved Leon and Bailey through the crowd, someone banged heavily into Bailey, making her fall to the ground. 

Bailey was already on the brink of having a meltdown, and the little crash was about to bring her to her breaking point. She shakily began to stand up, using Leon’s leg as a way of support. Tears were already starting to blur her vision, but despite this, she managed to spot something a couple metres away from her. Wiping her eyes, she half crawled, half crouched towards it. She picked it up and showed it to her brother and her friend.

“What’s that?” Deacon asked.

“I don’t know,” Bailey mumbled. “I found it on the ground. It’s smashed real bad but it looks like a remote or something.”

“Do you think it has something to do with the ceiling?” Deacon asked. Almost everyone in the building had concluded already that the roof collapsing was not an accident. Leon looked at Deacon.

“Don’t you think that's a bit of a stretch?”

“Maybe,” Deacon admitted. “But it could also be right. Maybe the remote made the ceiling drop or something. Then whoever did it dropped the remote and let everyone crush it with their big fat feet.”

“It’s still a stretch,” Bailey said.

“But it could still be true,” Deacon pointed out, sticking to his theory.

“Lets move to the side,” Leon suggested. They were standing practically in the middle of the crowd and had been bumped into multiple times. He was starting to get sick of it. Bailey nodded her agreement and they moved their conversation against the wall. At least now they were a bit of a distance away from the people, both dead and alive.

I know this was kind of a weird place to cut the chapter off, but the next part of their convo is apart of the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and if you read that part, enjoyed the graphic descriptions of blood. At least I hope it was graphic. That was what I was trying to achieve so yeah. If you have any comments or feedback please give em because I love reading them. If you have any story suggestions that you want me to write, you can send me an ask and I'll eventually try to get to it. Just read my pinned post first because that gives out the shit I will and will not do. Once again, I hope you enjoyed it, have a good day, byeeee.

[here-have-some-stories]

Thank you for your offer to write stories! I have an interactive Elder Scrolls fanfiction in progress that welcomes reader contributions. Would you be interested in drafting the next chapter?

The story is set in the Iliac Bay region, encompassing parts of both Hammerfell and High Rock. Our protagonist is currently in Wayrest, but the narrative can potentially move to other locations around the Bay. Some key elements to potentially incorporate:

The mysterious note mentioning "Nighthollow"

Ongoing Orsinium territorial disputes

Rumors of Thalmor spies in the region

The multicultural nature of the Iliac Bay area

Potential tensions or alliances between Redguard and Breton factions

Feel free to introduce new characters, plot developments, or even move the story to a different location within the Iliac Bay region. Aim for around 1000-1500 words. I'm okay with moderate swearing and violence, but please avoid explicit sexual content.

Fragments of a Destiny Unwritten: An Elder Scrolls Tale - Chrome_Calico, the_ouija_bored - The Elder Scrolls - Fandom [Archive of Our Own]

Thank you so much for the ask, but unfortunately I don't do fanfics, especially for fandoms I don't know anything about and am not even apart of, only original creative stories. Sorry. But if you have any other requests for things that aren't fanfictions I would be happy to write something for you, depending what it is of course.

[here-have-some-stories]

Massacre Masquerade Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 9

It wasn’t too much later when Bailey started to regret her decision to help out. Glancing at Deacon and Leon, she saw that they were bored of searching as well. They were getting suspicious glances from the other people, obviously wondering why they were looking around. It was also getting tiring.

“Well I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” Deacon said, “We might as well just stop looking.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Bailey pointed out. 

“Yes,” Deacon agreed, “ten minutes of hard, incredible searching, but to no avail.” He spoke in an overly dramatic voice that made Leon grin. “Let’s just leave it to those fancy detective people, it’s their job anyway.”

“What are we going to do then?” Leon asked.

Deacon shrugged in reply. “Just go back to what we were doing before. Sitting down and getting bored to death.”

“Sounds so exciting,” Bailey said sarcastically. Despite her reply, the group agreed with Deacon and walked back to their favourite corner. Leon pointed out that they could still help by keeping a look out, they just didn’t have to move. 

They had barely been sitting there for three minutes when Deacon said, “I’m bored again.”

“You’re sitting here doing nothing,” Leon said, “what did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Deacon admitted, “some sitting down and doing nothing that was more fun than this. Perhaps even more action packed.”

“It was your idea to come here,” Bailey put in blankly.

“Yeah, but I thought we would at least talk, not just sit here in disappointing silence.” Deacon crossed his arms across his chest and put on a fake pouting expression so he was looking like the child he was acting like.

“You said that you wanted to go back to what we were doing before,” Leon said, “this is what we were doing before.”

“We can change it up a little bit,” Deacon mumbled.

“By doing what?”

“By talking!”

“About what?” Leon was grinning now even though he was asking a genuine question. He had to admit that everything would be much more entertaining if they conversed, and he wanted to get to know Deacon a bit more. Or a lot more. He just liked to have small silly arguments sometimes. It really did help pass the time.

“I don’t know. The weather, our favourite types of birds, anything!”

“Alright then, what’s your favourite type of bird?” Deacon looked a tiny bit surprised at the question, a little taken aback by the fact that Leon actually took one of his stupid suggestions. 

“Um, sparrows. It’s pretty basic but they’re cute,” Deacon replied. He was happy to find that there wasn’t any kind of small judgement from Leon. It was a stupid thing to be embarrassed by but whenever he said sparrows were his favourite bird he would be called basic and boring. “What’s yours?”

“Birds of paradise,” Leon said. “They’re pretty and cool and do funny little dances.”

“I’ve seen them before, not in person but in a documentary. It was the only David Attenborugh documentary that I wasn’t bored by. What about you Bailey?”

“What?” Bailey replied. She blinked at Deacon as if she had just come out of zoning out, which she had. She had completely missed everything Deacon and Leon had been talking about.

“What’s your favourite type of bird?”

“Oh, um, kiwi’s. You know, the New Zealand birds.”

“Oh yeah those are really cute,” Deacon agreed. 

None of them said anything for a while and just when Leon was about to ask another question to his new friend when they were all alerted by a creaking noise coming from the ceiling. Simultaneously, they all looked up at the roof in the direction of where they heard the noise. Deacon was the first to look away, losing interest pretty quickly. It could have just been some random noises that buildings make. Leon wasn’t so sure. The creak sounded different from anything else he had heard. It sounded like the noise you’d hear from a tree branch just before it was about to fall down. He squinted his eyes a little closer at the ceiling and was surprised to spot a small crack, running in a perfectly straight line for about two metres before his eyes lost sight of it. Weird. But Leon shrugged. It was probably just some part of the building, nothing too odd. And that creaking noise was probably just something unimportant.

Leon was ready to turn back to his friend when all three of them jumped at the sudden sound of something snapping loudly, followed by a loud crash. A large portion of the ceiling had fallen down.

Leon looked in horror as he realised that the section that had fallen was exactly where he had seen the crack, and where they had all heard the creak. His horror increased as he remembered that there was a group of people who were sitting right underneath that section of ceiling and were nowhere to be seen. All ten of them.

I was excited to include kiwi's in the story. As a fellow kiwi, I was very happy to put in my native bird. Anyways, sorry this took so long to the one person who probably only reads it, but the new chapter is here and ngl I kinda don't like how I did the actual tension part of the ceiling falling but I really can't be bothered to change it The next chapter will take ages I promise you that. Once again if you have any questions of comments or feedback or just wanna talk do not be afraid I welcome very very much. And if you have any requests for fictional stories then I will give em to you depending jut read the rules I have on my pinned post most of the information for requested shit is there Anyways hope you liked it and bye y'all.

[here-have-some-stories]

Just a reminder that if anyone has any short stories or any other stories that they want to request -depending what it is- I will be willing to write something for you. Even though I have many many other WIPs, I still want to write more things and have no current ideas so if y'all have anything that you want me to write please send them to me and I will eventually get to it.

If you have anything to request I have some things I'll need specifying on.

What it's about obviously. If you have specific ideas for certain things please tell me and also tell me if you want me to wing it and just have a certain plot

If there's any characters you have in mind and as much information you have on them

If you are okay with swears, maybe some dick and sex jokes, gore, violence shit like that

How long you want it to be (short story, chapters -and how many chapters if you have a number in mind)

Really anything else you can think of

You can message me through asks or just message me on here normally. I'll message you if you have any questions.

And here's some things I will not write:

Smut and sex shit. I'll make jokes about it but not anything like that

Fanfictions. This is just for original creative stories

Anything that is offensive. If there is a plot point of character that is racist, homophobic, etc, I may possibly write something small for that but I'm not going to do too much, just more implied.

If there's anything else I'm not comfortable with writing I'll just tell you and skip those parts.

Cool. Hopefully someone takes me up on this because I'm getting lonely.

[here-have-some-stories]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FREDDIE 🎁🎉💝❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy birthday, Freddie

I love so fucking much you do not even understand. I think you're great and you deserve all the love and happiness that there is.

I hope wherever you are you're having fun with Jim and your cats and anyone else.

Love you more than anything ❤️❤️❤️

[here-have-some-stories]

Here's a clown OC I made. His name is Arnie but my friend named him Long-Face so I made it that people nickname him that but his real name is Arnie.

I'm gonna find a story to match with him to actually put him in something and come up with more of a backstory for him

[here-have-some-stories]

Happy Birthday Alma

It's Alma's birthday today. I decided that last night. I was filling out a character profile last night for her and figuring out more of her character and it came to me figuring out her birthday so I randomly generated five from a generator, and then used random number generator to pick one of those five and it just so happened to give me today. It's also John Deacon's birthday today so happy birthday Deacy.

I figure out Alma's last name last night as well. It's Moore. Alma Moore. That's her name. Woo hoo.

I currently have questions I stole from Tumblr answered for her. I have mentioned this before but I answered them as if she was answering them so the answers are all in first person. If you would like to hear some of the questions feel free to send an ask and specify what question you would like.

There are 148. Just say what number you want and I will tell you what the question was and the answer, if it doesn't give away too many things for the story. You will not know the questions until I tell you so just pick random numbers between 1 and 148. Also ask as many as you want.

I also think it's worth noting that the answers for the questions have been answered as if she was given a questionnaire, and it happened before the events of the book.

Feel free to ask, I am desperate.

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALMA.

[here-have-some-stories]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN DEACON!!!🎉💝❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

He was born on the 19th of August, 1951

Happy birthday John Deacon, I love so fucking much you don't even know. I hope you have an amazing day where ever you are and you get to spend it with family and whoever loves you, and you get to do the things you want to do. Love you. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[here-have-some-stories]

Just Need Time

Their house was a mess. Books scattered everywhere, clothes lazily draped across couches and empty food packets and rubbish laying on the ground like it lived there. They knew it wasn’t a good state to live in, but they couldn’t bring themselves to clean it. It wasn’t that they were lazy, no. It was simply because they couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it. They didn’t have much motivation to do anything anymore, even simple tasks such as going out to buy food, going for a walk and sometimes even basic hygiene. There were days where they couldn’t even find the motivation to get out of bed. 

They hated that they couldn’t do anything, felt guilty that sometimes they would have to rely on other people for help. But they needed help, they knew that. Needed help to get out of this mess their life had been in recently, both figuratively and literally, but they needed to make the first move. For the first time in weeks, they picked up the phone and dialled the number people had been recommending for a while.  

The conversation only lasted ten minutes, but it was enough time to schedule the appointment that would be the first stepping-stone towards getting their life back on track. They felt proud of themselves. It had been one phone call, but it was the start to something healthier. Feeling slightly better about themselves, they picked up the phone a second time and scrolled down their contacts, selecting another number. A friend's number. 

“I did it,” they said as a way of greeting once their friend picked up. 

“Did what?” Their friend asked curiously, surprise at being called lacing their voice. 

“I scheduled an appointment. I’m getting therapy and I’m getting help.” 

They could hear the relief and delight in their friend's voice as they replied, “And I’ll be there supporting you.” 

And it was at that moment that they finally realised that with time, they would be alright. 

Although I have had bad mental health, mine has never been bad enough where I don't have motivation to do much, so once again, like the last piece I did, if anything about this is wrong please tell me. This was another prompt that I got given that I decided to post because why the fuck not. I had to write a statement of intent for this so if you would be interested in reading that just ask and I can post it. It might help to understand the story and my meaning more. I hope you liked it, and it is only now that I'm realising how short it is and now I'm worried about it being too short for my teacher. Oops. Anyways bye. -Kenickie