ryokiowriter

[ryokiowriter]

[ryokiowriter]

Have I posted this yet

[ryokiowriter]

the venn diagram of ideas i have and content i’ve produced is two separate circles

[ryokiowriter]

Imagination: omg yes

Writing skills: wtf no

[ryokiowriter]

This is the best explanation I could come up with for why it takes me so long to do updates sometimes when, at other times, I’m typing them up like clockwork.

[ryokiowriter]

The Trick™

[ryokiowriter]

put a "∞" in my ask box and I'll shuffle my itunes and give you my favorite lyric from the song that comes up.

[ryokiowriter]

[ryokiowriter]

aesthetic egos [1/?]:

—- you’re just sitting there! you all thought i was gone, not worrying about anything! you all thought i was gone but i’ve been here this entire time, keeping an eye on things. you stopped paying attention. well, i hope you’re happy. you found someone new, threw me aside. someone to replace me. i’m not going ANYWHERE. i’m always there, always watching. you can’t get rid of me.

[ryokiowriter]

“Writing begins with forgiveness. Let go of the shame about how long it’s been since you last wrote, the clenching fear that you’re not a good enough writer, the doubts over whether or not you can get it done”

— Daniel José Older (via whatsinsideawritersmind)

[ryokiowriter]

Person: Your writing is so good!

Me:

[ryokiowriter]

Fun Vampire Fact; the reason that Vampires traditionally cannot see their reflections in a mirror is because mirrors used to be backed with a reflective layer of silver — which, as the metal of purity, would not ‘interact’ with Vampires, who are the Devil’s work.

However, modern mirrors have used aluminum as their reflective backing for many years now — and aluminum is not a ‘picky’ metal at all. So Vampires are able to see their reflections in modern mirrors.

[ryokiowriter]

[ryokiowriter]

Memento Mori: Euthanasia

eu·tha·na·sia Greek: “easy death.”  The painless killing of a patient suffering from an incurable and painful disease or in an irreversible coma.

“I remember what he did to me.”

He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, not when he jolted awake like that. He was alone, after all, waking from a fitful sleep, wracked with a plague of endless nightmares. They were all so vastly different, and yet one element remained that tied them all together:

His own death.

He didn’t like to think about it, but it made sense. Every time the dream had ended, it was with someone killing him. Someone he’d counted on as a friend, who’d stood by his side and helped him when the going got tough.

Jack’s musings were cut short by the sudden shift in lighting. The bedroom, once barely illuminated by the moon and the ambiance of the city outside, now had a reddish glow to it, growing brighter as the seconds ticked by. This couldn’t be right, he was finally awake! Gripping at the blankets, he ripped them away from his form, scrambling out of bed and rushing to the next room. 

Red drenched this room as well, shadows a dark crimson in contrast to the unknown light source’s vibrant ruby. He wasn’t sure why he’d run into the bathroom. Maybe something there could help wake him up. Running to the sink, he turned on the faucet, thrusting his hands beneath the spray and splashing the water over his face. It felt so much better than the cold sweat that had been rolling down his skin mere moments ago, his breath catching slightly in his throat as he panted.

A splash in the sink caught his attention.

He hadn’t stopped the sink, and yet there was water pooling in the porcelain. That was his first clue that was something was amiss. The second was the fact that there was something dripping into the sink.

Blue eyes snapped up to his reflection. He was bleeding. Trails of red streaked down his face from his eyes, his mouth agape in horror. He couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t speak, was he even breathing? 

There was a clatter behind him. He couldn’t look to see what it was, gaze still transfixed on his reflection in the mirror.

Footsteps. Slow, methodical, coming closer. 

Why couldn’t he move?

The footsteps had stopped. Jack was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he wasn’t alone in the bathroom. He could feel the heat of another human being in the room, hairs at the back of his neck standing up as he felt the heat source getting closer.

“Jack, my friend. I am sorry.”

Before he could register what was happening, there was a sharp pain at his jugular, a hand gripping at the opposite shoulder to keep him still. As if he could move to begin with! 

“Zhere is no cure... after all, how does one negate an  á͉̳̮n̦̦t͎̫̘i̮̦͎͚̫̹ș̢̞͓̯̫é͕͍̬͉pt̖i̴͔̰̻̱̪̗̩c̻?͇͙͚̤̠”

The offending needle was removed from his throat, and Jack felt the world tilt at a sudden angle, his legs giving way beneath him. Strong hands caught him, pulling him towards a stainless steel table. The scenery looked like it was melting, the only constant being that damnable shade of red light.

Schneeplestein’s surgical mask was up, concealing his mouth and nose as he stared down at his patient, strapping him to the table. “You know, I am very sorry about zhis. I’ve done everyzhing I can for you.” It was hard to read the good doctor’s expression, what with the mask and all, but from what Jack could see, Schneep did look remorseful.

“Zhe least I can do is make sure you’re not in any pain.” A pause, mirthless laughter breaking the silence that followed. “Vell, maybe not. At least I can make it quick.”

Jack could hear his heartbeat in his ears, vision distorting as the red ran back into his eyes, obstructing his view of the good doctor before him. 

“I didn’t vant to do zhis.”

Soon, even the red was starting to fade into black, his pulse coming to a slow and steady stop in his ears. There was a slight glint of green in the very edge of his vision, the warped words of Schneeplestein echoing in his ears.

“͏̤̙͍̫̤H̪͞e ͎͉̦͈̥̘̹m̨̞̹̻̹̜̯͖a͘d̴̞̦̪͙̮͉e̩̬̖̝̲ ͙̙͚̤̮̬m̩͓͙̻͔͉̥͢e̗̘̝͖̳ ͓̩͍̯d̺̼̭͘o͍ ̖̰̞̘͙̗̤z̷h̴͔̮í̦̜̝s̴̥̱.̲̯̭̭̝”͚̗

.

.

.

A sharp gasp. Jack’s body bolted upright, blankets thrown forcibly from his form. He was in his room, tucked away in bed. Each breath was ragged, lungs burning as he sucked in the cool air of the bedroom. Bright eyes darted around the room, before focusing straight ahead. Everything was as it had been. Everything was normal.

Before he could stop himself, he felt his mouth move, speech falling from his lips unbidden. He knew this had happened before, and now it was happening again.

“I remember what he did to me.”

[ryokiowriter]

I call upon the fan fic writing gods to bless you with the perseverance to finish one of your unfinished drafts. 

May your fingers dance along the letters upon your device with ease, may the devil of distraction stay far from you, and may your work not need much editing.

I pass this blessing upon every fan fic writer out there.

[ryokiowriter]

Something’s Wrong With j̶̤͖̰͍ ̧a̤̩͍̤̯͘ ̙c ͇̝͖͖̠k̶̳͎

Plip.

“My name is Doctor Jacksepticeye.”

Plip.

“I am... one hundred percent...”

P l i p . . .

“...a real... doc t o r . . .”

His lips were moving, though they seemed to be stuck in slow motion, same as the water droplets that rolled over his skin and splashed back into the sink. Just saying the sentence brought a roiling feeling of sickness over him, even though it strengthened his hold on reality. The bathroom wasn’t really green, it just seemed that way--

“My name... is Doctor... Doctor Schn--nngh!”

There was that name again. Everyone kept asking for that name. Maybe that’s why it had try to come out of his mouth just then. It had to be. Why would he try to say a name that wasn’t his own otherwise?

“D-doctor... Doc̸͔̝t̺̣̥͍̮̕o̖̬͞ŕ͙͚̹ ̫̻̲j̖͔̜̯ͅa̠͍c̨͓̤̹̠̱͚k̜̼̤͚̩̠̗s͎̝͎e͔p̵t͇̳̦͠i҉̭c͝e̵̳̝̺̦y͚̯̳̪̭ḙ.̘̘̮̫"͇̪

A hacking cough broke free, a hand flying up to haphazardly cover his mouth. His frame shuddered and shook with a few more spasms, opposite hand gripping hard at the side of the sink. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, palm slicked a vibrant shade of sickly green, though the consistency of it was more like blood than anything else.

“My name is Doctor Jacksepticeye. I am one hundred percent a real doctor.”

No glitches. No coughing. Whether it was sweat or water that had been running down his face before, it had stopped. The silence that followed was overwhelming, his gaze slowly raising to the mirror to stare at his reflection. His own crumpled brow greeted his gaze, but something was decidedly off about the image in the mirror.

One of his eyes was green.

One hand shot out of the mirror, seizing the front of his shirt and pulling hard. Before he went careening face-first into the glass, he caught glimpse of his doppleganger’s expression, lips stretched into an obscene grin and a thumb jerked across his throat.

The collision with the glass never came. He was sitting in his recording studio, staring blankly at the computer screen. Had he been recording this entire time? That wasn’t good. It looked like he’d lost a chunk of time just zoning out in front of the camera. Perhaps he’d be able to convince Robin that everything was okay, that he’d simply been recording just a little bit too long.

Right. He’d been in the middle of a bit for the latest surgery simulation, hadn’t he?

“As a real, true doctor, I always go into my very real E.R., and I sit down, and I look at my patients, and I say ‘Don’t you worry. You’re in the strong, capable, handsome hands of the very real Doctor Jack--’”

“VHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

The German accent cut through his thoughts like a katana through rice paper, severing his train of thought and prompting him to look around, turning his chair to face the door.

“What? Who are you?”

Blue eyes widened significantly as the man came into the room, donned in proper medical scrubs and garb.

“I am ze good doctah!” The sentence was punctuated by a dramatic reveal, a face very similar to his own revealed when the doctor pulled off the mask. “And zat is my c̮hą̤i̩̲r̠̩̱̮̬͝!”

Wait a minute. This had already happened before, hadn’t it? This man, this stranger, had burst in on him before. His brow furrowed even further, mouth still hanging agape as he struggled to find the right words to express his complete and utter confusion to the medically-attired man before him. 

“...no it’s not. This is my chair. Hang on--” Standing up abruptly, he yanked his headphones off, turning his entire frame to face the intruder, only to find himself face-to-face with a creature that haunted his nightmares. 

The doctor’s features were twisted, eyes blackened with only a hint of green in their center, a gaping wound stretched across his throat and sharpened teeth on display in a sinister grin. There was an intrusion, a burst of pain at his belly, the distance between them suddenly lessened. A glance down saw that the doctor’s hand was covered in the same vile chartreuse substance he’d coughed up earlier, splattered over fingers that gripped at the handle of a scalpel.

"̺̺̮͙̖͈͜C̯̞͈̞̝͠o̥͇̞̣͜m͓̲̝̠͙̘e̮̝͔ ͖͙̬̱̱̰͎ọ͓̣̱n͕͖̭̙ͅ,̫̯ ̛̫̱͇̩͇̭̘J̤̝̯̞̭̞͉͘a̹̥çk͓̳̙̠͞.͓̩̻͡ ̨͚̱̯͎ͅSi̻̱̱͖̻̞͉t̕ ̧̪̻ḇ̵̼͚a̤̩̪͔̺̗c̴̥̩͔̼̳̥̲k ̡̪͔̼̜d̸̳o̲wn̫̟̗̼̻.͖̮ ͏̬͉͕L̷͖e͍̲̺͠t̵͙̯ ̟'͉̩͖̟z̵̼e̫̻̟ ̵̭̤̰̰̰̰̳g͚̺̝͓̦͟o͏͕̤͓͔̞̰͕o̬̺͖̹̙̺͔d̶̫̟͙̼̼͈ d͇͜o̶̼ͅc̭̟̱t̠́ah̹̲̼̟ͅ'̘̻ ̢̰ͅt̴̰̫a͚͙̼̯̪͢ͅk̨̙̳͖̲͖͙ḛ̰ͅ ̹͘ca̪͙͝r̀e̛̥͎̼͍̤̰ ̶̜o̶̪̱͉f̟̗͖̙ ̥̟y̢̹o̖̝̟̯͙̹̗ù̹̼̞̬̫̟.̺͉̭͖̼̮"͏̟͓

.-- .... . .-. . / .- -- / .. ..--..

“--ack.”

.. .----. -- / ... --- / -.-. --- .-.. -.. .-.-.-

“Jack!”

.-- .... --- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- / .-- .... --- / .. ... / - .... .- - ..--..

“Jack! Jack! This is Chase... you need to wake up.”

..-. --- .-. / --. --- -.. .----. ... / ... .- -.- .

... --- -- . -... --- -.. -.--

... --- -- . -... --- -.. -.--

.... . .-.. .--.

[ryokiowriter]

you know whats wayyyyy easier than writing? scrolling through tumblr for hours and hours and tangentially thinking about your WIPs but not Actually working on them