#WIP: Tinnitus

[shay-creates]

Some songs that fit my WIPs either in lyrics or vibe.

Mark of the Forest/Dread Secrets-

Either Guns For Hire by Woodkid or What Could Have Been by Sting and Ray Chen.

New Rules/Tinnitus-

Illusion by Ateez

Runaways/Heir of Chaos-

Frost by TXT or Crown by TXT

Corruption of Heroes-

It Seemed the Better Way by Leonard Cohen or Hunt You Down by The Hit House and Ruby Friedman

Life in the Realm/Finding Family-

Family by Mother Mother

Shadow of Doubt-

You'd Be Paranoid Too - Waterparks or Saints by Echos

Background of Love-

Fake Protagonist by Getsunova or Lose (english version) by Wonho

Misfortune-

Seraph by DPR Ian or Who Are You by Sam Kim

Haven't thought much about Love Afterlife and Demon Eye, so idk what songs fit for vibes or lyrics.

[mud-tongue]

I feel a cold voice over my shoulder

Long white fingers wrap around my waist

Insisting I keep thoughts to myself

Tucking them deep in some internal place

I feel blunt teeth dig into my ear

Tearing as if to let the ringing out,

Out of that grey place where no one can hear

None but I feel that brassy song so devout

I feel blood pool against my eardrums

Those long fingers dig in

Bruising the flesh that is soft

where I wish it were thin

That ringing whisper

that binds shut my mouth

Grows ever louder

Canonizing my doubt

Two fingers are hooked

at the base of my skull

They pry and release what should remain

Beyond the reach of their pull

[mellaithwen]

WIP Wednesday

And for day 5 of 1000 words of summer I’ve failed to reach 1k again, getting just 360 words written today, but heyho I’m just too sleepy folks!

Anyway! Thank you for the Wednesday tags @rewritetheending and @indigo2831 <33 ……i have a feeling this snippet might get me yelled at? Maybe? >:)

For a moment all Eddie can hear is the tinnitus-like-whine of a flatline, and the echoes of Hen and Chimney’s voice from the back of the ambulance screaming and shouting for Buck to hold on, to fight, come on Buck–come on—

Three minutes and 17 seconds.

How long has it been now? Longer, he thinks. The gunshot only felt like seconds ago but...that was before he’d been cold cocked to the back of the head, and shoved into this back room along with everyone else. He barely remembers how he got here. He’s lost time. He’s always losing time.

The back of his neck is tacky and warm, and his vision is still swimming. A tear leaves a trail down his cheek but he can’t bring himself to wipe it away and soon more follow. He doesn’t want to move. Or think. Or breathe. He wants to stay as still as a statue, huddled against the wall. He wants to slip back into the dream. He wants Buck to keep him close, burrowed beneath the sheets, and whisper that it’s raining outside, but that’s okay, because they both secretly wanted to stay in their pajamas all day anyway—

But he can’t.

He can’t.

*runs away*

But also, I’ll tag (with no stress my loves!) @homerforsure @princessfbi @fcntasmas @littlespoonevan @renecdote @hattalove @hopeintheashes @henswilsons @nymika-arts @capseycartwright @clusterbuck @like-the-rest-of-la @thekristen999 @shortsighted-owl and @genderqueerbuck :)

[pumpkin-stars]

At Least It’s Not Rabies!

Eddie Munson/GN!Reader + hints of Steve Harrington/Reader & Steddie

When Vecna was blowtorched, Hawkins was saved. Eddie didn’t make it, until he did... But he’s not the only one who came back different.

there’s potential for a series here, this fits with another WIP i have that’s more of a prequel, and I like the dynamic I’ve written here enough to do a sequel too, if people are interested :)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Content: Best Friend!Steve has a crush, Boyfriend!Eddie, talk of loss/mourning, gratuitous shirtless Steve, there are no braincells here, hints of protective!Steve, a teeny little bit of blood drinking. no pronouns are used for reader, reader is called Sweetheart. sorta just ends but if i kept going i’d never post it :)

He winces under the harsh light of the store, long beam-lights buzzing and seeming to flicker in his peripheral, unavoidable no matter where he turns. Still, it’s better than natural light, the sun’s brightness giving him a splitting headache and making it super unsafe to drive or even just walk to work.

Thank god you offered to give him a lift.

He knows it’s more of a distraction for you than anything - another task on the list of things to do each day that force you out of bed and into the world, numb but alive as you try to cope with the giant Eddie-sized hole in your chest.

He’s trying too. Sure, he wasn’t dating the guy like you were, but over that long week, Munson had become a friend…

He stays with you most nights, both your sleep schedules fucked beyond fixing. Not that he ever feels tired, still wired up from the events of spring break… he sits and watches you sleep fitfully, closing his eyes to rest briefly only to shake you awake when you cry out for a man who’s not coming home.

It’s hard to believe it’s only been four days…

“I got you these,” you surprise him, setting a pair of sunglasses on the counter of Family Video with a smile, “for your headaches. I know you’ve moved on from that asshole jock personality and the whole Risky Business look might send you back, but… better to look like a dick than pass out, right?”

It’s the most you’ve said at once since it happened. Since you screamed yourself hoarse over Eddie’s body.

“Right,” he nods, smiling, slipping them on. There’s immediate relief. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” You smile softly, “Try not to get any more concussions, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” he shrugs, “You never know what’s gonna crawl out of the ground next.”

You nod, “Pasta for dinner?”

“Sure.” He smiles, “I get off at five.”

“I remember.” You hum, turning to the door, “See you.”

“Hey!” He calls, making you look back, “Don’t push too hard, okay?”

You nod, “Do what I can, I know. You too.”

He nods, watching you go sadly, wishing there was more he could do. He wonders how different things would be if they hadn’t burnt Vecna to a crisp, if Lucas hadn’t managed to save Max… if Hawkins had been split open the way He’d shown Nancy in her mind… If Eddie’s sacrifice hadn’t bought them more time…

He knows it’s the one comfort you have in all this… that he didn’t die for nothing… but having the whole town still blame him for Chrissy and Fred and Patrick doesn’t help you mourn, or heal… You’re still ‘The Freak’s Girlfriend’… And even when Hopper manages to get the cover story on the news and clear Eddie’s name, that label isn’t likely to go away.

He sighs heavily, sitting on the shitty stool behind the coutner, leaning forward and resting his chin on his arms, staring at the door. How any of you are supposed to go back to normal is beyond him… He doesn’t know how he managed it that first time, after the Demogorgon… but then… back then he thought that was it… that there were no more surprises. Now? It’s just about waiting for whatever bullshit comes next.

He lets his eyes slip shut, blocking the rest of the light from his vision, trying to ignore the buzzy lights, to block out the tinnitus he’s suddenly developed in the last week. It’s not so bad right now, but the quiet of the store makes it noticeable, just a soft drumming in his ears… but it’s early, only he and Keith (who’s been hiding in the back room even more than usual) are here… it gets worse through the day, almost deafening when there’s more customers, like it’s louder with every person nearby.

Probably just some side effect of concussion. Definitely not the bat rabies Robin had feared.

He’s way thirstier than usual too… no matter what he drinks, only his mom’s fancy coconut water brings any sort of relief, soothing the dryness of his mouth, and the aches in his body… just as rejuvenating as the carton says. He pulls his backpack up, the itch in the back of his throat getting more persistent as he sits there…

It’s new. The backpack, that is… while his nail-bat stays hidden in the trunk of his car, he’s started carrying everything he might possibly need with him wherever he goes. You’ve got one too, and Robin… each of the kids…

Call him overprotective and overly cautious, but it made him feel useful. Like he could actually do something to help. Even if all the gates in Hawkins are closed, there’s still the rest of the world, and with Eleven living in town again, whatever of Vecna’s Army might get through is gonna make its way back here again eventually.

It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

He’s got mace, an aerosol and a lighter, a comprehensive first aid kid, a flashlight, his walkie, and two packs of spare batteries. Two bottles of coconut water, a bottle of normal water, rubbing alcohol, tissues, a compass, a pack of granola bars, and a sandwich that gets swapped out every couple of days.

Everything he might need for an immediate defence, a few days on the run, or to help treat a wound.

There’s another bag stashed in the woods too… by Skull Rock. No walkie or sandwich in that one but everything else is there for emergencies.

Paranoia? Maybe.

But a lot better than being caught unawares.

~~~

Pain is the first thing that registers.

Just not where he expected it.

His throat is on fire, mouth dry, but his torso, where he distinctly recalls bat teeth tugging his flesh… is fine? The crick in his neck, the back pain from sleeping on a tiny shitty boat and in the woods… is gone.

He lays still for a while, not even daring to breathe, just… listening… he doesn’t wanna open his eyes and see Vecna leering at him. Or bats sitting around waiting for him to be awake so they can feast on his screams and his flesh all at once.

But there’s nothing…

Just far-off thunder.

He cracks one eye open, then the other, greeted by the dark sky of the Upside Down, flashes of red highlighting the clouds of ash and soot that swirl miles and miles above.

He turns his head, flinching back immediately as a bat rests inches away, it’s mouth open, a lump of what must be him in its teeth.

His lips part with a crack, dryer than this side of WaterGate, and a weak moan escapes him.

The bat doesn’t stir…

It’s not resting, he realises… it’s dead.

He sits up faster than he thought he’d be able to, unsure how long it’s been since he moved, frowning at the state of himself and his surroundings.

His clothes are torn, as expected, but beneath the ripped fabric there’s no wounds… not even scars… his fingernails are longer, dirt trapped beneath them, irritating and itchy, but his rings are all still there… He reaches up, touching his throat gingerly - also no scar… but no chain either, his guitar pick necklace is missing…

His other hand clenches, and he looks down at it, yelling in horror and throwing it out to the side, flinging the demobat several feet away. He’s not sure how he hadn’t realised it was there, a vague memory of trying to weakly pull it off his thigh surfacing… That’s the one place that still hurts a little, where he’s just torn its teeth out of him.

He laughs weakly.

It’s a hive mind… and if these fuckers had died in the middle of their meal, that means Vecna’s dead… he’d bought enough time.

His head tips back, and he looks at the sky again, that one moment of joy curdling in his stomach as he realises… the gates must’ve closed…

They must have…

He- he can’t get home…

Something flickers up ahead, his gaze snapping to it in an instant, eyes narrowed and curious as he stares at the edge of the tree line. As far as he knows, he’s the only thing alive down here. So what on Not-Earth is that?

“Hey Eds.”

He tenses up… it’s quiet, that voice… like a whisper on the wind, but despite all the turmoil in the sky, there’s not even a tiny breeze at ground level. He strains his ears, vaguely aware of his body moving, crawling over himself until he’s on all fours, throat burning as he listens.

“Me again.”

You… he waits, frozen…

“I wanna do this… exact spot but… not quite sure… and they already think… weird for missing you… so I don’t… sit in the road with a candle.”

He frowns, edging closer, hoping he might hear you more clearly if he moves towards where your voice is coming from. He realises, surprised, that the flickering he’d seen was a light… not a real one, but… the same golden cluster of particles he’d last seen in the Wheeler’s house, when Nancy had contacted Dustin…

“- dunno if you can hear me,” your voice continues, “part of me hopes you can’t.”

He clears the rest of the distance quickly, sitting in front of the light, the opposite side to your voice, knowing -somehow- that if he was up there or you were down here, you’d be facing each other with the light in between you.

“It’s been four days.” You keep talking, he hangs on every word, “I miss you so much… I don’t want you to be gone, but if you can hear me then that means you’re still there… you’re stuck… and I don’t know which is worse.”

He pokes the particles, the end of one finger tickles… he wonders if you notice it…

“It’s kinda windy,” he can hear your smile, “And I only brought a candle… I guess it’s so the flickering makes me think you’re really here.”

He frowns, poking it again.

You scoff, “Wishful thinking. I watched you die, Eds… I held you… you stopped breathing, I saw it. I know you died… I just wish- I should’ve brought your body back, but Dustin… he hurt his leg when we came back through the gate, when we ran after you… Silly man… I can’t believe you thought we would just stay up here…” you sniffle, “We had to leave you there, I bet those bats started biting you again as soon as we were gone… We made it back through, though… I watched the gate close, Eddie… It’s like it was never there.”

He wishes he could touch you… just for a moment, just to reach out and give you a second of comfort…

“Chief Hopper’s alive.” You laugh, though he can still hear the pain behind it, “Mrs Byers rescued him from a Russian Prison… like something out of your campaigns except with people not dragons.”

He laughs, incredulous.

Your breathing hitches, “He’s gonna clear your name, Eds. I don’t know how, and it’s all gonna be a big mess, but he’s gonna make sure the world knows you’re innocent. Of murder, at least.”

You’re crying… he can hear it in the thickness of your voice, “I just… One more chance to hug you, and kiss you, that’s all I want. And even if you can hear me… if you’re somehow alive down there… I don’t know how I’ll ever see you again.”

He pushes his whole fist into the golden hue.

You gasp loudly, “Eddie?”

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He rasps.

~~~~~

“Steve!” You burst through the doors, startling him out of conversation with an older lady, who’d asked which of the three tapes in her hands would be nicest for her budgie to watch while she’s out.

You’re a very welcome distraction, even as the pounding in his ears gets worse.

“Hey,” he frowns at you, “I’m sorry, ma’am, could you excuse me - I uh- The Birds is… not a bad choice, excuse me.” He gestures to you, emerging from behind the counter and guiding you into the back room.

Keith rolls his eyes, moaning something about laziness, and lumbers out of the room, giving you privacy without much complaint, though Steve knows he’s in for an earful when you leave.

“Steve…” you’re panting, gasping for breath, having rushed from Forest Hills to his car and driven like a mad thing all the way here, “Steve, he’s alive!”

“What? Who?” He frowns, “Vecna? We barbecued him, remember?”

“Not Vecna… Eddie.” You grab his arm, “Eddie’s alive!”

“Wh-“ he blinks, “What are you talking about?”

“I went to talk to him,” you wet your lips, “Where he died, I went to see him-“

“You-“

“He doesn’t have a grave, Steve!” You point out desperately, “I just… I wanted to talk to him, I didn’t… I wasn’t looking for him, but I had to just-“

“Hey hey, it’s okay, I get it.” He assures, his hands rubbing your upper arms, “I do the same with my Grams.”

You smile faintly, “I took a candle. Just… for respect? I don’t know, I just… maybe part of me…”

“Easy,” he whispers, “Take your time, what happened?”

“I sat in the tree line,” you frown, “Lit the candle, just started talking… and I- it glowed, Steve… brighter than any other candle I’ve ever seen… like he… he was there, on the other side…”

“It wasn’t just the wind?” He frowns.

“I swear it wasn’t,” you insist, “I know it sounds insane, I know I saw him die, but I also know that that candle… He’s alive, Steve… and he’s stuck there.”

He pulls you close, hugging you tightly, “Okay. Okay, we…” he frowns, “I have to say it, just… just in case, okay? Are you sure it was him? That it wasn’t Vecna, somehow? Cause - I believe you saw the candle, okay, but… of the two of them, Eddie’s not the most likely to come back from the dead, y‘know?”

“It was him, Steve.” You nod, “I know it was him.”

He nods, smiling softly, “Then we’ll get him back. Somehow.”

You hug him tighter.

~~~

“We never checked WaterGate.”

It’s Dustin’s first response when you and Steve tell him about the candle. It’s the first thing he says after a few teasing comments about Steve’s new sunglasses. You didn’t go to the adults, or the other kids, just… straight to Dustin.

He’s just as broken up about Eddie as you are, so he’s just as determined to get him back. You’re sure the others would help, with a lot of convincing, but one of the things you love most about Henderson is that he’s all in, no convincing needed. His friend is in trouble so he’s going to help.

“We didn’t?” Steve frowns.

“It’s the only one we couldn’t just look at,” Dustin nods, “And with Max in hospital, we didn’t even think about it.”

You nod, “but the others were closed, so there was no point, right?”

“We thought so.” He shrugs, “We’ve been wrong before. Like the Mind Flayer hiding in Will and the government opening gates without telling us.”

Steve nods, “Alright. I’ll go check?”

“We’ll all go.” Dustin’s firm, won’t be swayed. “You need my help with the compass.”

“And I’m not waiting here alone.” You add.

“Okay,” Steve shrugs, “But we’re just going to check, right? No going through it.”

Dustin’s eyebrows raise, “That’s what you said last time.”

~~~~~

He’s been walking all afternoon, trying to find your candle again… you’d disappeared so quickly, the shock at him making contact severing the small connection you’d formed. He had to find you again.

You’re all he can think of, well, you and the flame in his throat, as his feet guide him all over town, seemingly aimless in their direction until he realises where he is, a soft crunch under his feet making him look down, laughing in surprise as he finds the pin badge that fell off his jacket during the first fight with the bats.

Which means there’s a gate nearby… or there should be.

He sniffs curiously, smiling wide as he follows the scent of water, not caring to step over gnarled black vines, just walking straight through, everything around him dead and decaying…

He crouches down when the smell is overwhelming, grasping at the thickest vines and yanking hard, grimacing as he lifts his hand and it comes back sticky, like a kid who’s covered his hand in pva glue and peeled it off in one big stretchy piece of film… only thicker and with a greater stench of rotting flesh.

He puts aside his disgust for a moment, scraping at the ground, pulling vine after vine away until he uncovers a small black line in the bedrock. Just like the gate where Chrissy died looked before Dustin poked through it with a broom.

He doesn’t have a broom, but he does have one of the discarded oars, snapped in half from bashing a bat’s face in. Better than his fingers.

It opens eventually… just a little… enough to slip through… the cold freshwater of Lover’s Lake not gushing through the gate cause of whatever weird physics keeps the Upside Down... upside down.

He steadies himself, squeezes his eyes shut… reminds himself that this isn’t the first time he’s taken the plunge into this water, that this time, you’re waiting for him somewhere on the other side…

He jumps in, forgetting gravity for a second, his feet suddenly facing the sky. He watches, eyes wide, as the gate knits itself shut and pulls himself around, kicking off the bottom and swimming up, up, up…

He breaks the lake’s surface with a gasp, and a hiss, immediately sinking below again as the sun glints off the water, his eyes sensitive to the light after so long on the other side.

He opens his mouth, greedily swallowing gulps of water, sticking his head out again, eyes closed this time, treading water as he works out his next move.

He’s still so thirsty, his throat still burns, and he’s certain that he could drain the whole lake dry and not be satisfied. He sighs, letting his body float up, lying on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

He should get out of the lake. That’s step one.

Find something to eat, check out Rick’s place and finish the rest of the cereal he hadn’t devoured…

Then find you… sneak around and check out all your usual haunts, or… climb up to your window and wait for you in your bedroom. A real Steve Harrington move.

He laughs. Fuck step two, he wants to find you right now.

~~~~~

You’d had to wait for the end of Steve’s shift to check out the lake, by which point the sun was setting. You’d taken a boat out into the centre of the lake, got deja vu as Steve stripped off his jacket, the lowering sun casting nicer light this time- dusky orange instead of that dark purpley-black.

There’s no point in him going down there, really. The compass works perfectly. There’s no gate.

But it helps to be sure. To be certain that, if you were right, Eddie was stuck in the Upside Down for good.

Maybe you shouldn’t have brought Dustin…

Steve breaks the surface, “No gate.” He frowns, reaching for the sunglasses, eyes dry even though the rest of him is soaked.

You hold back from crying again, bottom lip quivering, “okay.”

“We’ll find a way,” Dustin assures, “Get El to open a little gate somewhere and then close it up again as soon as he’s safe.”

You shake your head, “We can’t ask her to do that.”

“For Eddie.”

“He wouldn’t want to risk-“ you shake your head, “He died to save the town, Dustin, or… almost died… whatever happened, he- he wouldn’t want us to risk the world all over again, just for him. As much as we might want to.”

“Come on,” Steve sighs, “Let’s get home.”

~~~~~

You stayed near the lake, not quite ready to leave. But Dustin had a curfew, and homework, and all sorts of things normal teenage boys have to deal with, so Steve drove him home.

“I’ll be fine.” You’d insisted, “Just come get me in a while.”

You needed to be alone.

To reprocess losing him all over again.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, you start walking, taking the not-so-familiar trail towards skull rock, Steve’s designated pick up point where he’d come find you before it got too late.

With a Walkman blaring in your ears, the mixtape Eddie had made you drowns out the noises of the forest - far from safe in Hawkins, but with no gates, the most dangerous thing was human, and they’re not all that scary when you’ve faced creatures from another dimension.

It means you don’t hear the footsteps behind you, the crack of twigs and the rustle of leaves.

Your only focus is trying not to cry when Master of Puppets plays and you remember how metal he looked on the roof of that trailer… how terrified you were of the oncoming bats… how happy you were to watch him in his element.

You don’t notice when he comes up behind you.

Your only clue that something’s amiss is sudden, unexpected… a sharp yank of the backpack, sending you sprawling to the floor, landing on your ass.

“Fuck, you smell good, sweetheart.” Eddie groans.

Eddie.

Eddie!

“Missed me?”

You stare up at him, pulling the headphones from your ears, “You’re really here?”

He nods, “yeah.”

“Why’d you pull me over?” You stare.

He stares at you, not meeting your eyes. You think for a moment that he’s looking at your lips, but… he’s staring, fixated on your neck. “Dunno.”

You right yourself quickly, scrambling to pull the sandwich from the bag, grabbing some coconut water too - you’re not sure if he likes it, but Steve had insisted on you carrying it, and you know Eddie would rather drink anything other than plain water. “You must be starving.”

You stand, a few feet between you, the food dangling from your fingers as you stare at him.

“Ravenous.” He agrees.

It’s not quite the reunion you had in mind… not like those movies where the two lovers run at each other in the rain and hug and kiss like they’ll never get the chance again…

You’re stuck in place, like you don’t know what to do with yourself, both of you just… observing the other in silence.

“You said you wanted one more chance to hug me and kiss me,” he smiles.

“More than one.” You whisper, “At least one every day for the rest of my life.”

He grins, “Can do. Starting now?”

You nod, still frozen. He steps forward, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. He seems different, somehow… but trauma will do that to a person. God knows after your first experience of this shit you’d been wired and on edge for over a week.

You sob as he gets within reach, finally shaking yourself out of the stupor and pulling him in, closing the rest of the distance as you cling to his soaked clothes, shredded camo vest sticking to your cheek as you hold him.

His arms wrap around you too, and he inhales deeply, tightening his grip, “I missed you. Only woke up this morning and there you were… calling to me.”

“Eddie…” you whisper, “fuck… I thought I lost you…”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He assures, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.” His face buries into your neck, and he presses kiss after kiss over the sensitive skin, “you smell so good… ‘m so hungry…”

“Then eat,” you smile, pulling back to cup his cheek with your free hand, “and drink.”

He groans, diving into the crook of your neck again, giving you less than a second to process what’s happening before his teeth pierce your flesh, his hand flies up to cup the back of your head, holding you still as he eats and drinks from you, with your consent. Sort of. It’s good enough.

“E-ddie-“ you gasp, “oh— what-?”

His throat stops burning for the first time since he woke up, and he pulls back, lapping over where he bit you with a dazed expression before he drops you, retreating several steps with a hand over his mouth, horrified with himself.

“Holy shit-!” He stares at you, “what the fuck- I’m- I’m so sorry sweetheart, I don’t- what the fuck-!?”

You’re lightheaded, and take a moment to recover from the sudden blood loss, sinking to the forest floor, staring at him. “Bats…”

“Huh?” He stares.

“You- you were bitten by bats…” you lift a shaky hand, pointing to his torn clothes, “You’re healed…”

“Yeah.” He nods, “I bit you.”

You nod too, “You did.”

“Wh- what the fuck!?”

You break out into laughter, mind racing with questions and thoughts and wild theories that make no sense.

He huffs, fingers feeling his teeth, eyes widening as he finds fangs instead of canines… “Jesus Christ…”

“You’re a fucking vampire, Eddie.” You breathe. “Or… maybe Robin was right to be scared, and you’ve got bat rabies…”

“Fuck…” he scoffs, “A vampire? That’s insane.”

“You’re the one that bit me!” You laugh, “fuck… I just wanted you to be alive again…”

“If I’m a vampire,” he hums, “I don’t think I am. Alive, I mean.”

You shake your head, “but you’re here. I don’t care how or what you are, you’re here. That’s enough.”

He closes the distance between you again, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile, cupping his cheek, pulling him in to kiss him, wrinkling your nose as you pull back, “Brush your teeth, and then we’ll make out like we always used to.”

He laughs, “you got it, sweetheart.” He sniffs, “What drink is that?”

“Hm?” You look to where you’d discarded the sandwich, “coconut water?”

He hums, “doesn’t smell so bad.” He reaches for it, handing you the sandwich, “get that blood sugar up, babe. I don’t wanna accidentally eat you again.”

You smile, biting the sandwich, “You want some?”

“Can I even eat solid food?” He frowns, twisting the cap off the water, giving it a cautious sniff before downing half the carton.

“Eds?” You hesitate.

“Mm?”

“Your eyes hurt, right? In the sun?”

“Uh huh.” He nods.

“And you- can you hear stuff really well?”

“There’s a drum in my ear…” he nods, “Think it’s your heartbeat.”

You swallow hard, “And that water, did it help? The burning in your throat?”

He nods, “How’d you know?”

“Steve.”

“Huh?”

“Steve got bitten by the bats too.” You clarify. “He’s-“

“Harrington’s a vampire too!?” Eddie stares at you.

A twig cracks a little way away, and you both look over, finding Steve, hands on his hips, “I’m a what?”

[thesandsofelsweyr]

With your flashback fic is done?

Your AK!Jason going through worse than in Genesis?

Of course, would you expect anything else from me? 😈

I've mentioned this a few times before, but in my Arkhamverse, Joker shoots Jay in the head (as he brags in Arkham Knight Annual) rather than his chest (as depicted in Genesis #4). The bullet only grazes his head, but it still leaves him plagued with severe migraines, blackouts, and tinnitus.

Also, in Death & Resurrection (WIP) I'll tell the story of what happens to poor Jason between the gunshot and Harley's torture 🤡

[galadrieljones]

WIP Whenever

tagged by @thevikingwoman. Thank you, friend!

From Chapter 7 of afterglow:

As they got off the helipad, which was on what appeared to be some sort of giant concrete runway surrounded by feral fields of walkers, garbage, and barbwire, he, himself was also zip-tied and escorted by two massive soldiers, one of whom was armed with a bazooka—all of this he'd been warned would happen, but it was unnatural. They took his crossbow, and he didn't like being tied up or shoved around by pod people. Rick just kept talking to him, telling him to wait, telling him it was temporary. Daryl could feel the pulse in his neck and his wrists and his heartbeat was screaming at a hundred miles per hour. He felt hypertensive. He felt fried and exhausted, and he was also afraid, but that part, he hid well. The helicopter was loud until the engines heaved down and into silence and there was tinnitus in his ears. He could see the city, Philadelphia, about a mile out, behind hills and trees, like a sneaking wonder metropolis, one which he had never seen or visited before.

tag back! New tags for @bearlytolerant @sasusc @im-immortal @gneebee @boltthrutheheart @roguelioness @whovianlili ^^

[amrass]

Fanfiction WIP overview 12.19.23

I'm still on a break from writing, but my mind is itching to create, it’s intense. So I thought I’d do a write up of my potential upcoming RDR2 fanfiction projects, and see if that can get them out of my mind. It also might be interesting for any potential readers of mine who follow this little account.

NSFW content bellow the cut.

- Moral Tinnitus. Crack. AU where everything the same except the RDR2 characters can hear the high and low honor sound. Arthur despairs while fishing. Dutch is chill. Micah is kinda deaf, and Baylock is the Dark Horse from RDR1, so he has to be super evil or his horse runs off.

- Scotch, Cream and Rum. (Named after the ingredients of the "Midnight Cowboy Cocktail", known for tasting terribly). Arthur/Micah/Dutch threesome, power play deluxe, PWP. Arthur and Micah's first meeting at Crenshaw Hills, hours after Micah saves Dutch's life, leading to odd arrangements.

- Perfect Night. Colm/Micah. Pre-canon sugar (salt) daddy AU, where Micah's father finds out about them. This is sooo kinky, with consensual noncon elements, piercing play and sounding? But Colm is nicer here than I’ve written him before, but still a salty crime boss, with existential angst.

- Under the Giant Trees. Arthur/Micah. Little Red Riding Hood inspired AU with alpha/beta dynamic. Wolf man!Arthur. Evil grandmother!Micah Bell The First?? Micah (III) with a red scarf or hooded leather coat??? Wtf

- Song for the Siren. Queerplatonic Javier/Jenny, femdom Jenny/Micah, hate and grief sex Javier/Micah. Deeply complicated relationships. The first time Jenny and Micah has sex, she tries to drown him.

- Untitled Van der Linde motorcycle gang AU. Arthur/Micah. Bunch of loosely interconnected scenes. Motorcycle Morbell race. The amount of leather here, wow.

- Untitled space western AU. Pirate gangs in a space ship prison. Multipairing. Cyborg!Arthur (due to mutated Tuberculosis strain)/mecha pilot!Charles, plus many more. Lotsa weird horror in this. Psychedelic drug lord Uncle? AI Grimshaw? Pirate overlord Dutch? Prison ward Bell family?

I won’t do all of these, but we’ll see! Whew, I think it helped … I’m going to have a Christmas drink and go to bed earlier today. Thank you for reading.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I'm about halfway done with this chapter since, again, it's a long one and it's taking a bit more time than expected to finish due to length and the fact that I'm in the middle of inventory prep, SO here's a nice chunky WIP Wednesday.

It's also a very sad one, so you know. Happy Wednesday, have some Jester sadness.

-

When Nott- no Veth, no but she was Nott then, but she was also always Veth oh whatever- was first learning how to shoot firearms, Jester had been curious about them. She’d seen them worn on the hips of travelers coming into the Chateau and knew the exact sound they made when the belts containing them hit the polished wooden floor of her mother’s quarters. Once, from the secret place she watched all manner of exploits, she’d observed an old man from Tal’Dorei, who bragged about being a rifleman to anyone who would listen before going up, show off his collection. She had to stifle a giggle as her mother suggestively dragged her fingers down each polished barrel and spoke in clever innuendo all while praising him for considerable talents he’d only spoken about but never proven. He wouldn’t need to- the beauty of being in the Ruby of the Sea’s sights is that no matter what you told her, she would believe with her whole heart until the second you were no longer within those walls.

So with that in mind, it meant that Jester had never seen one used until she started watching Nott firing off round after round and, of course, she wanted to see up close now that she could. The resulting tinnitus had lasted for hours until Caduceus took pity on her and used a restoration spell to restore her hearing. The memory of that feeling never really went away and she went from being curious about guns to wanting to be as far from the field from them as possible.

Right now it felt like someone had fired a gun right next to her ear, leaving everything ringing like someone had hit a bell inside her head. Toll the dead, laughed some kneejerk little thought that didn’t belong here. It was the only series of words that made any sense to her at this moment- everything else was far away.

Her eyes hadn’t moved from Fjord’s crumpled form. If she took a step closer, his blood would touch her boots from where it was still pooling out beneath him. His skin was ashen, his eyes wide open and unfocused and staring right at her- oh gods.

But if she didn’t look at his eyes, she would have to look at the gory mess of his ripped open stomach, and if she turned around, she would run to the other side of the ship and start crying and throwing up and she couldn’t afford to do that. Heal him! Another voice, this one livid, shouted at her. You’re running out of time!

I didn’t bring any diamonds.

No one had. Cree and Caduceus were two feet from her, whispering frantically, their words sounding warped like she was hearing them from underwater. “My bag is in the officer’s quarters, but I will not make it back within a minute. And I burned all of my bigger spells on the fucking dragon turtle.”

“I did too. We can… We can try in the morning.”

The ringing still wouldn’t subside, like it was trying to keep her distant from reality by providing some kind of buffer, so when Jester choked, she thought it was softer than it actually was, because she could barely hear it. Cree and Caduceus jerked their heads to look directly at her for the first time since she’d screamed and she backed away from everyone’s desperate, comforting hands, because she didn’t want to be touched, she didn’t deserve it, because if she had been with Fjord, then this wouldn’t be happening.

She’d just wanted to sleep in the mansion, that was all. It wasn’t like they were fighting. Fjord preferred the captain’s quarters and when Jester shared his bed, she never got to cuddle with the mansion cats, so it felt like a fine compromise. She’d kissed him good-night as they both limped away and she’d fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber in a pile of cats until she was woken barely an hour later by Cree sounding an alarm.

She’d just grabbed her sickle because she didn’t have any spells left. She hadn’t thought anyone was going to die. And now Fjord was dead and they were going to have to leave him like this and she couldn’t, she couldn’t-

“We have to do something,” she said, because choking wasn’t conducive to actually explaining her feelings. Her voice didn’t sound like her own even beyond the distortion. It was like someone else was speaking and that person was on the verge of a panic attack. That was strange. Everything felt so numb and yet… was she shaking? Was that her heart thudding like that? “We can’t leave him like this.”

Caduceus started talking the way he did when there was grief to be consoled and she slapped her hands over her ears to block out the garbled noise of it, childishly. Now everything was muted but the ringing and the thud, thud, thud of her heart that she felt strangely distanced from. She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t see his lips move or the offended way he would look at her when he realized she was shutting him out.

She counted to ten and opened her eyes. Caduceus, shoulders drooped in something akin to defeat, had knelt down beside Fjord and was casting magic on him- gentle repose and a small healing spell to close up the wound on his stomach and keep his insides in place.

The urge to vomit came again and this time it wouldn’t be ignored simply because she was disassociating. She ran to the rail and threw up so hard that she was yanked back into her body and felt everything tenfold- every ache and pain from the battle, every bruise left by the weight of her grief. She cried and choked and hyperventilated and mumbled it’s all my fault between heaves and didn’t stop until she was pulled against a soft furry chest and a rumbling purr began to vibrate through her entire body.

“It is not your fault, Jester,” Cree murmured.

“I should have been with h-him,” she hiccuped. She couldn’t admit that to anyone else- just Cree. Cree understood what it was like to be a cleric and let someone you loved slip through your hands.

“Do not blame yourself- blame me, if you must blame anyone aside from the ones who hurt him. I was close by and I sensed nothing. They got by us all.”

She wasn’t going to blame Cree any more than she was going to blame Yasha, feet away and being held up by Molly and Beau. The look on her face said she would break if anyone came close to blaming her and proving what she likely already believed and Jester would have fought anyone who tried. It was easier to blame herself for being selfish and choosing a bunch of cats over Fjord.

“I don’t wanna wait,” Jester whimpered into Cree’s chest. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if Uk’otoa has his soul or something and the ritual doesn’t work?”

“We do not have any other choice.”

She could argue for hours and get nowhere and only make it that much harder. If the three of them didn’t sleep, then there wouldn’t be any bringing Fjord back at all, but how was she supposed to sleep knowing Fjord was dead? Shouldn’t someone watch him in case Malachi came back?

“Th-they were after that crystal inside of him,” she sniffed. “We can’t leave him alone. I’ll stay up with him.”

“You will not be able to do the ritual.”

Jester laughed pathetically. “I can’t be the one to do it. I’ll fuck it up. You gotta do it, Cree. I’ll… I’ll help, but…”

But Cree worshiped a demigod of death. She had sway there. The only ritual she’d ever successfully helmed was the one that saved Yasha back in Eiselcross, and that was because no one else was willing to try it until Artie told her she should. She trusted Cree’s spellwork more right now.

“I will perform the ritual, then,” Cree sighed. “But please, Jester, I will not sleep well unless I know you are not causing yourself any harm.”

Of course she was causing herself harm- she’d decided to lock herself up in the captain’s quarters with Fjord’s body and would hear absolutely nothing else about it. That was going to fuck with her and leave her haunted. There was no sugarcoating it, no pretending that she could make a game of it. It was just going to happen and the consequences of it would be compartmentalized until she could deal with them properly, just like always.

“I have to stay with him,” she repeated, simply, and then pulled away from the comfort of Cree’s arms to go and collect Fjord- no, Fjord’s body. He was so much heavier now that he’d gained some muscle, but he still felt too light when she lifted him up in a bridal carry, his head lolling against her shoulder. It was like the absence of his soul was something felt all the way down into his bones.

Orly played a soft dirge of inspiration for her because he couldn’t offer anything else. She held the spark of it in her heart not knowing if she would have any use for it tonight, but grateful all the same for the gift. Marius held the door to the captain’s quarters open for her and then shut it behind her, leaving her alone to lay Fjord’s limp form down on his bed.

There was blood on the sheets and, in desperation to be rid of the sign, she tore them out from under him, only to find that he’d bled straight through to the mattress. Furious, she balled the sheets up in her hands, and threw them out into the ocean where she watched them sink beneath the waves as the Ball-Eater continued its course towards Rumblecusp.

She looked over her shoulder. She’d left the doors leading back into the quarter’s thrown open and she could see a bit of ashen green in the corner. If she really put her mind to it, she could believe he was just sleeping and she’d just stepped out here to get some air.

Her breath hitched. What good was it to pretend? For another eight hours, Fjord was gone and getting farther and farther away. She dropped to the floor and pressed herself into a corner of the balcony with her knees drawn up to her chin. Yeah, you’re gonna do so good watching for danger out here, Jester. You’re so stupid and selfish. First you leave him alone to sleep with a bunch of spectral cats and now you can’t even sit next to his body.

“You’re being awfully hard on yourself, my dear.”

Her head shot up. Leaning against the wall in the space between the balcony and Fjord’s quarters was Artagan, hood down and the lion’s mane of his hair falling freely across his shoulders and down his back. His arms were crossed over his chest and the long tapered fingers of his left hand tapped a steady rhythm on his right bicep. He was staring a spot across from him where nothing was suggesting he was looking beyond what was physically present.

Slowly, Jester got to her feet, catching herself on the railing when she lost her footing- how long had she been sitting there spiraling? Long enough for her foot to go to sleep. She hissed and shook it out, trying to get the tingles to go away. “What are you doing here, Artie?”

She didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but it came out that way, regardless. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and took an unsteady step forward. “I mean… I figured you’d be…” Where? On Rumblecusp watching his big plan spiral out of his control? Keeping an eye on Twiggy so they could find her easily when they finally got there? Drinking cocktails on some other island and absolutely ignoring any responsibilities he might have?

Right. It was no more fair for her to be hard on him than it was for her to be hard on herself. She took a step back and pressed herself against the rail again. “Sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about, Jester? You didn’t gut him where he stood. I didn’t either, of course.” Maybe with anyone else that would have been shouted defensively, but to her ears, it barely sounded like a statement of fact. Or maybe she was just too used to defending everything he did and said without considering context.

Shut up. Shut up. Artie’s my friend. He’s done so much for me. There’s no fucking reason for you to be mean. The you here being the shitty little voice that had taken up residence in her brain and decided to be a dick instead of helpful. When there was nothing else left to hit, you punched at yourself and everyone around you.

Artagan took his eyes off of whatever faraway place he’d trained them on. “That was going to happen the next time he set foot on the ocean, regardless of why and when.”

That bitter little voice said could’ve warned me and she bit it off before she could let it slip out loud. What would it have done to know? Made them more careful, sure, but would that have been enough? Maybe Fjord went willingly instead of having to be ripped apart to save them all. Maybe there was no body to preserve and resurrect in that version.

She blew a raspberry. “Is there any way to make it stop?”

“I think you know exactly what they were after and how much trouble they went through to try and get it. Your purple friend pulled out a gambit that won’t work twice.”

Because they only had one more of those stupid crystals and it was in Fjord. That explained why they were trying to open him up like a fish. Malachi might have made off with the one Molly threw away to take it to the temple they’d avoided with Avantika, but now there was one left and once they had that one…

Fjord could get rid of it somewhere far from the sea like they talked about doing, but that was the only way that would work. The other option was that he never went back to the sea and if she were going to ask him to do that, she might as well not bring him back. The oaths he swore to the Wildmother were out on the waves- part of his soul was out here. Land would be a cage and a prison for him no matter how far they walked if he knew that he would never sail again.

“Maybe we just kill Uk’otoa then,” she grumbled, petulantly.

Artagan laughed. “I have no doubt you could, my dear, but you have enough gods and monsters on your dance card as it stands.” He lifted an arm and gestured her closer and no bitter voices or dark thoughts could make her stay still and stand alone when given the opportunity to burrow into the folds of his cloak and curl against his side. She inhaled deeply until her nose burned with the crisp, spicy scent of evergreen that conjured images of thick forests of pine trees like arrows pointing towards candy pink skies.

It took barely a minute for her joy to become sorrow again as she wept into his side like someone had punctured a hole in her heart and this was all she had to bleed out. She was frustrated and tired and angry and confused and this whole journey had barely started and even if it wasn’t her fault, it all felt like her fault. She bit her tongue until she tasted her own blood and clung tighter to Artagan’s body like she could hold him here and refuse to let him go.

Artagan had clearly never suffered a young woman bawling on him like this and did nothing but stand still like a statue with his arm around her shoulders and mumble awkward, desperate pleas for her to stop crying, that it would be all right, and that it would all seem less like an absolute disaster in the morning. It was shockingly mortal of him, like he was trying to figure out how to mimic compassion by what he’d observed from others, because he otherwise had no context for it. It was enough to make her laugh through the least of her sobs.

“Promise me something, Artie?” She finally forced out when she could form a sentence that wasn’t some stumbling, stuttering mess. “Promise me when this is over, you won’t leave me.”

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as he hissed like he’d been scalded. She was afraid to look up into his face, afraid of what she’d see there. “I’ll do my best.”

She made the decision not to ruin the only comfort she had for this long, agonizing eight hour wait by pointing out how that wasn’t a promise. Like many things that troubled her that she didn’t have the energy to be upset about or analyze, she pushed it aside to be forgotten in order to simply take joy in what she had currently.

[marypsue]

This isn't exactly a Sneak Peek Sunday, because I'm not planning to finish and post this ever, but I found this thing abandoned in my WIP folder and it made me cackle in several places, so I figured I'd toss it up here so it could maybe make some of you cackle as well.

...

Nobody wants to say it, at first. No respectable news publication or government spokesperson wants to be the first to stand up in front of the world and say, “A wizard did it”.

But a wizard did it.

It’s the only plausible explanation. It couldn’t really be anything other than magic. Or, possibly, extremely advanced genetic engineering on an unimaginably massive scale and inconceivably short timeline. Which is to say, indistinguishable from magic.

The fact that there hadn’t been – or shouldn’t have been – any wizards in the world before it changed in the first place does present a minor dilemma, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that a wizard did it.

…

In the immediate aftermath, Bree’s ears do that white-noise whine thing that TV shows always use to show a character was standing too close to an explosion. It’s high, insistent, and really friggin’ annoying, so of course it won’t stop. But it does blessedly begin to fade enough that she can also hear the sounds of people, coughing and groaning and pulling themselves up off the floor all around her.

Bree is perfectly content to stay where she is, sprawled out flat on her back on the floor. Floor is good. Floor is friend. Floor won’t betray her by suddenly vanishing out from underneath her like legs did. Floor is more supportive than Bree’s last six boyfriends put together. Bree and floor are perfectly happy together, and Bree’s not going anywhere.

“-ee! Bree! Hey, are you alive?”

Bree blinks, and is mildly surprised to find that the ceiling is still up there. A strand of flyaway brown hair flutters past her eyes, between her and the stylish pendant lights with the full-spectrum bulbs (for better colour accuracy), and Bree watches it waft back and forth in a pleasant daze. The voice repeating her name over and over is almost as annoying as the fading tinnitus, though at least it varies in pitch and rhythm.

“Bree? Hello, earth to Bree? Do you have brain damage or something? Oh my god please don’t have brain damage.”

Bree opens her mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t have brain damage’, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. She sits up, coughing out what feels like a solid plug of crap from her throat, and sneezes, rubbing the heel of one hand across her streaming eyes. Her hand comes away streaked with black, and Bree sighs. It had taken twenty minutes in the bathroom that morning to get the wings on her eyeliner even, and now it’s taken ten seconds to destroy them.

“Ugh,” she pronounces, after some consideration. “Seriously, Les, I’m good -”

There might have been more to that sentence, but Bree will never find out. She’s stopped almost mid-word by the sight of the best friend she has at the Haus of Ergo, and doesn’t really recover in time to hide her reaction. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Jesus, Lesley, what happened to you?”

Lesley bites her bottom lip, nervously tucking a perfect loose ringlet of almost luminously white hair back behind one ear. An ear that is significantly and noticeably pointier than it had been that morning when Bree and Lesley had got their morning coffees. Also much, much greyer. As in a colour that skin should not be, unless the owner’s very, very ill or very, very deceased.

“Um,” Lesley says, offering Bree an awkward smile. “So do you know that game with, like, the dragons -”

“And the dungeons? Dungeons & Dragons? That one? That what you’re getting at?” Bree demands, too fast. Lesley’s smile gets more and more watery with every word out of Bree’s mouth, and Bree has to force herself to stop, take a breath. “Sorry, babe.”

Lesley’s smile warms slowly back to full amperage, its usual blinding whiteness only emphasized by the dark, purple-grey complexion of the face it’s now set in. Bree isn’t sure if it’s just her imagination, or if it’s also a little sharper of tooth than usual. “No, it’s okay. We’re all a little stressed out.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bree mutters to herself, gingerly reaching a hand up to touch the back of her head, where she remembers her good friend floor kissing it when she went down. Apparently floor is not quite as good of a friend as she’d thought, judging by the starburst of pain that pulses through her head when her fingers make contact. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She grins at Lesley. “No brain damage?”

“No brain damage,” Lesley agrees, smiling back. “But uh.”

“Whoah,” Bree says, surveying her surroundings. “I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole. Am I concussed? Are my pupils weird? Why’s everything look so big?”

Lesley rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. The lip is noticeably purpler than the rest of her face, but Bree doesn’t think it’s makeup. And yeah, the teeth are also definitely just a little sharper than normal.

“Uhm,” Lesley says, tugging on one of her curls and letting it bounce back like she always does when she’s nervous.

“It’s because you’re small, short stuff,” Karl’s snide voice says, and Bree tips her head back to see him leaning his crossed arms against the back of her office chair, looking down at her with a faintly amused expression. For a second, Bree can’t spot the difference – he’s let his truly sad man-bun free to hang in limp platinum-blond curtains around his face, and he might have contoured his cheekbones this morning. But then Bree realizes Karl’s got ears to rival Lesley’s, and that’s when it clicks that something truly fucked up is going on.

“Lesley,” Bree says firmly, turning back to her friend and pretending Karl doesn’t exist, which is easier said than done, “what the fuck.”

Lesley shrugs one shoulder with an apologetic expression. Bree follows her line of sight down, down to where Bree’s own feet are stretched out in front of her.

“Oh son of a bitch,” Bree sighs. “I’m a fucking hobbit.”

…

“Technically, actually, I think the term ‘hobbit’ is trademarked by the estate of JRR Tolkien,” Rafe says, in between bites of pistachio ice cream.

“Halfling?” Bree asks.

Rafe shakes his head. “Wizards of the Coast, dumpling.”

“Okay. More importantly: do I look like I give a solitary flying fuck,” Bree asks sweetly. Rafe gives her an assessing look, and she snatches the carton of ice cream from him. “The question was rhetorical, assface.”

“Always so hurtful,” Rafe says, apparently unruffled, sweeping his tail deftly out and snagging the ice cream back out of Bree’s hands. It’s not fair that he’s mastered having a whole new appendage so quickly. Bree’s only shrunk a couple significant inches and she’s still struggling to figure out how it all works. “Always so vulgar. Remind me again why we’re friends.”

“That’s my ice cream you’re eating,” Bree points out.

Rafe shrugs, popping another spoonful into his mouth. The TV behind him blares on, the announcer going over the statistics of who mysteriously changed species that afternoon (pretty much everybody), what happened (probably a wizard did it, though the announcer’s doing a great job of dancing around it), and what happens next (nobody has a clue). Bree ignores it.

“I deserve it,” Rafe says, after swallowing down the mouthful of ice cream. “For the emotional trauma I’ve had to endure.”

“Oh, like you’re the only incredibly stereotypical gay suddenly-a-tiefling in New York,” Bree says, grabbing at the ice cream. Rafe pulls it effortlessly out of her reach, and Bree glares up at him on his perch on the kitchen island.

“No, peanut, the emotional trauma of having to live with you,” Rafe says, before taking pity on Bree and lowering the ice cream into her arms. Bree barely manages to resist the temptation to shove her entire face into it and inhale. “Hey, slow down! Leave some for the rest of us.”

Bree flips him off.

When she finally surfaces, she says, “I think it fucked with my metabolism. Either that, or changing took a lot of calories. I’m frigging starving. I know second breakfast is a meme and everything but I would kill a man in cold blood right now for a good loaded baked potato.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t say anything.

“Well, what about you?” Bree challenges, because apparently she’s a masochist.

Rafe hums in the back of his throat, glancing up at the ceiling light as he runs his tongue over his teeth. It strikes Bree again how much pointier they are than before.

“Not a baked potato. Red meat,” he says, at last, consideringly. “I could go for burgers?”

“Oh fuck me yes,” Bree says, and then considers. “Wait, d’you think anywhere would even be open?”

“Not a chance, lovebug,” Rafe says serenely. “Although, who knows? They keep chain restaurants open through every natural disaster imaginable, I’m sure the corporate overlords of the local McD’s don’t give a damn if half their employees suddenly sprouted new limbs.”

“McDonald’s it is, then,” Bree says. “Get your coat, I’m buying.”

“You’re going in your bathrobe?” Rafe asks, and it’s Bree’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “Right. If I say one word about your sartorial choices I will wake up without eyebrows.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Bree says. “C’mon, before I start thinking you don’t really need all of that not-so-secret Oreo stash.”

…

There’s a giant troll at the intersection beside the McDonald’s nearest the apartment, smashing up taxis with what looks like an uprooted stop sign. The deafening honking is even worse than usual. Bree and Rafe wait until the troll’s back is turned, then slip past to the restaurant, heading straight for the self-serve order stations.

“Twenty McNuggets,” Bree says, then reconsiders. “Wait, no. Forty. And an extra-large fries.”

Rafe nods, and then says “Ow! Fuck,” as his horns bash against the order station pillar.

There’s an ominous rumble from the troll, and Bree and Rafe both turn to look, but the troll thankfully is still outside, still occupied with the taxis. The noise from outside’s just gotten louder because of the guy who just walked through the door. He’s built like a brick shithouse and dressed like a Medieval Times threw up on a science fiction convention, with an impressive red beard and a huge-ass sword with a dragon on the handle. Bree wonders if that armour’s real tooled leather or just Worbla foam.

He looks surprisingly human. Bree looks and looks, but can’t find anything to indicate otherwise.

“Hail and well met!” the human dude calls, and Bree and Rafe both stare at him. The door shuts behind him, with a little hiss of displaced air and a sad jangle of chimes. His brilliant smile slips a notch or two, but he recovers quickly. He seems to be one of those people who’re just naturally irrepressible. Bree hopes his armour’s not Worbla; it won’t do him much good if he gets into it with that troll, and she has an overwhelming feeling that he’s going to. “I have travelled far, and I am in need of sustenance!”

“Yeah, hi, welcome to McDonald’s,” the server behind the counter says, poking her head around from the kitchen. The enormous tusks jutting up from her lower lip seem to be giving her some trouble, but she valiantly tries to sound impossibly bored anyway. “What can I getchu?”

“A flagon of wine and your finest sausage, please!” the human dude pronounces.

Rafe nudges Bree with his elbow and mutters, “Is this guy for real?” Bree shrugs, and Rafe sighs. “Buddy, read the fuckin’ room.”

“Yeah, we don’t got wine,” the customer service orc drones, not looking up from the register. “Pepsi okay?”

The human dude looks, for the first time, like he’s a little out of his depth. Finally, he takes a tentative step forward. “May I sample this…Pepsi?”

The customer service orc looks him up and down.

“Tell you what,” she says, finally, clearly taking pity on him. “I’ll ring you up for a fountain drink, you give it a try, if you hate it you can get water instead.”

“That sounds amenable!” the human dude booms, perking right back up again. Bree honestly can’t believe his energy.

“Wow, when you commit to the bit, you really commit, don’tcha?” the customer service orc says, with a glance over at Bree and Rafe. Bree recognizes the please-tell-me-you’re-seeing-this-too look instantly. Rafe just shrugs, and the human dude only frowns like he’s confused, so the orc shakes her head and turns back to the register. “And we don’t have hot dogs. You wanna build a burger, or…”

The human dude suddenly looks so lost and utterly forlorn that Bree can’t handle it. “Man, just get a Big Mac,” she says. When the guy looks even more confused, she says, “It’s…fried ground beef on a bun. Trust me, you’ll love it.” Maybe she’s just playing right into his stupid bit, but this conversation is agonizing and if she doesn’t get her chicken nuggets in the next thirty seconds, cannibalism is seriously going on the table.

Although, does it still count as cannibalism if you’re no longer the same species? How do they define cannibalism in fantasy worlds with lots of sapient races, anyway? If it can say, “Don’t eat me!”, you shouldn’t eat it? Does that apply to parrots? What would a parrot even taste like? Would parrot nuggets taste good? Right now, Bree is just about ready and willing to find out.

“Big Mac it is,” the orc sighs, tapping the little touchscreen on the register. Bree hears a crack, and the orc slams her forehead down on the counter with a sudden and unexpected bang that makes Bree jump. “Oh god damn it! That’s the third till today!”

“I’ll pay for any damages,” the human dude says, a little too quickly, like he’s used to having to offer to pay for damages. Bree catches herself wondering what his deal is, and slams down on that like a ton of bricks. She wants no part of this circus and nothing to do with its clown.

The guy reaches down to his belt, unclips a beautifully-tooled little leather pouch, and opens it up to reveal a clattering handful of bright gold coins. “Do you accept draneiri, or…?”

The customer service orc looks from the human dude’s bag of literal gold, to the busted screen of the register, back to the human dude’s bag of literal gold. Then she buries her face in her hands and leans her elbows against the counter and just stands there like that for what feels like a very long time.

When she finally surfaces, the first thing she says is, “Are you planning on paying for your meal with that, too?”

The human dude’s smile dips another few notches. “Ye…s?”

The orc’s face goes straight back into her hands.

“Look, I got this guy’s meal,” Bree says, stepping forward. “And the chicken nuggets. I agree that this day has been irredeemably bullshit, but please, before you go into the back and have a well-earned nervous breakdown, please can I just get my dank nugs. And then we will get out of your hair. Pinky swear. Thanks.”

The customer service orc slowly straightens up, running both hands over the hairnet holding back her long, dark ponytail. She looks down (very far down) at Bree, and asks, “Are you two friends or something?”

“I just want my chicken nuggets,” Bree repeats. “Everything that has happened here has been an impediment to getting my chicken nuggets. I only wish to remove said impediments so that I may obtain my chicken nuggets. Do you need a minute? Because I’ll come back there and make them myself, if you want. I’m not heartless, I am just very, very hungry.”

Both the orc and the human dude stare at her. Bree’s pretty sure Rafe is also giving her a Look. None of them seem particularly impressed, or like they intend to do anything about feeding Bree anytime soon.

She pulls out her credit card, and gives it a little wave through the air, before setting it down on the counter.

“Please,” she repeats, and adds, “Thank you,” as an afterthought.

“Thank you,” the human dude says, very seriously, meeting Bree’s eyes and resting a hand on her shoulder. Bree edges backwards. “For your kindness and selfless assistance, you have earned my gratitude, and the eternal friendship of Valentine Cross.”

Bree points at him, opens her mouth, looks over at Rafe, finds no help from that quarter, shuts her mouth, looks back to the human dude, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off her face. “Valentine Cross? Is – is that – you?”

The human dude – Valentine Cross? Really? Like, really? – stares at her. “Yes?” he says, like it should be obvious.

The orc takes Bree’s card and swipes it without a word.

…

“You totally got grifted,” Rafe says, as they leave the McDonald’s, Bree’s arms full with the big warm brown paper bag full of chicken nuggets. She’s already eaten her way through ten of them. Should’ve ordered sixty.

“Read my lips, Rafe, I don’t fucking care,” Bree says, and shoves another nugget into her mouth. She looks left, then right, for cars or the troll, swallows the masticated chicken lump, and adds, “It cost me five extra bucks to get my damn nuggets in my facehole. And that guy got fed. If that’s a grift, that’s a pretty sad grift.”

Rafe glances up the street, along the trail of destruction the troll’s left in its wake. It seems to have settled in at the next intersection, and is gleefully bashing in a billboard advertising a new smartphone. It’s kind of weird, now, to see so many huge images of human people overhead shilling for various products, and then look down and see…people who really don’t look like that anymore everywhere. There’s probably some kind of metaphor in that, but Bree has a sneaking suspicion that it might be kinda racist, so she leaves the thought where it lies, half-formed.

“Oh, no,” she sighs, and Rafe turns to look, just as Totally-A-Normal-Human-Pinky-Swear Valentine Cross’ shiny dragon-sword catches the light as he raises it to strike the troll. “I can’t watch this. It’s gonna be like those YouTube videos of cute fluffy stuffed toys being put in a pressure vise.”

“How did he get over there so fast?” Rafe muses aloud. “Big guy like that, he’s pretty light on his feet.” He narrows his eyes, thoughtfully. “Gotta be pretty agile…”

“Can you please thirst over someone normal for once.”

“Sweetheart, look around you. This is as close as I am ever going to get to someone normal, ever again. You should just be grateful I’m not ogling the troll.”

Bree looks sharply over at Rafe. “Are you ogling the troll?”

Rafe sighs. “Ah, ye of little faith. No, peanut. I am not ogling the troll. Come on, though, let’s get back before it turns your new best friend for life into a sticky red smear on the pavement.”

But it doesn’t. Bree looks back, just once, over her shoulder, because morbid curiousity gets the best of her and also hope springs eternal. The troll does not seem to have smashed would-be hero Valentine Cross into a million tiny pieces yet, though would-be hero Valentine Cross appears to be getting a run for his money. They go back and forth and back and forth until Valentine’s sword chops the stop sign in half. Then it turns into a wrestling match, and then Bree and Rafe turn the corner and Bree can’t see any more.

She kind of vaguely hopes Valentine doesn’t die. Not only would that suck, but it’d be a waste of her five bucks. And a good eternal gratitude. Those aren’t easy to come by these days.

…

The Haus is one of those businesses that could afford – in every sense of the word – to take a few days and let its employees adjust to their new physical realities before coming back to work. So, of course, it doesn’t. Oh, Marina Ergo herself goes into seclusion and doesn’t reappear, but Karl makes it abundantly clear by email that she fully expects everybody else to come to work and create fabulous sartorial creations she can slap her name on.

Sometimes, Bree really hates her job.

She hates it even more when she walks in and discovers that now, instead of a foot taller than she is and twenty pounds lighter, they’re all two feet taller than she is and fifty pounds lighter. Oh, and sporting ethereally beautiful features and pointy ears.

She damn near turns right back around and walks out. None of her clothes fit anymore, everything’s too tall for her to reach, she thought her colleagues made her feel insecure before, and also Karl is here. All she’s doing anyway is the graphic design for the fall/winter lookbook, and that she could have worked on from home. There is literally no good reason for her to be here right now.

Then Lesley catches Bree’s eye from across the room, shooting her a relieved smile and a wave. Bree sighs, squares her shoulders, and forces herself to walk the gauntlet over to Lesley’s drafting table.

“Bree! Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here,” Lesley sighs, and then does a double-take. “Is that your bathrobe?”

“It is in fact a kimono,” Bree grumbles. Okay, so it is a bathrobe. But the fabric is a really pretty embroidered satin, and it was cropped before, which means it isn’t dragging on the ground as she walks. And it wraps at the waist. Bree wasn’t exaggerating when she said none of her clothes fit.

It’s not even exactly like she’s just gained weight. More like what there already was of her kind of got…squashed. All her proportions are different. And she’d looked wistfully at her shoe rack before heading out, but there appears to be nothing to be done about the feet.

Lesley grimaces in sympathy. “Ugh. Yeah. All my skirts are too short now. And my pants are all crop pants.”

“You’re making it work though,” Bree says, trying not to let the green leak into her eyes as she takes in Lesley’s tight cropped jeggings, floral-print stilettos, and white peasant blouse.

“Nothing compliments a complexion that’s grey,” Lesley complains, flicking a lock of spider-silk hair with a mournful look. “I don’t know if I’m even gonna be able to get a new foundation, unless I go to a costume shop, and my colour’s so uneven. And my hair’s gone so fine, it won’t even hold a curl.”

She lowers her voice, looking around before trying to crouch down to Bree’s new height without being obvious about it, which produces a kind of gymnastics that Bree watches with silent amusement. “And Karl’s having a field day. He’s being an even bigger douche than usual -”

“So that’s why you’re glad to see me? I make a more obvious target?” Bree grins, to show she means it as a joke, but Lesley still looks hurt. “Chill, Les, I know you’re too nice to let the thought cross your mind. What’re you working on?”

“I wish you wouldn’t put yourself down,” Lesley says, as Bree turns her attention to the cutting table to avoid meeting Lesley’s eyes. “But I really wish you wouldn’t cast me as the villain to do it. I think we’re friends. I hope you do too.”

Bree doesn’t have anything to say to that.

…

Karl is, as Lesley said, being an even bigger douche than usual. By the time lunchtime rolls around, Bree is in desperate need of a break.

“Let’s go get food,” she suggests to Lesley, who lets out a long, heartfelt sigh.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she says, grabbing her bag from the hanger by her drafting table. “What d’you want?”

Bree considers.

“I don’t really care what it is, so long as there’s lots of it,” she says, finally. “You got a preference?”

“I dunno,” Lesley says, a thoughtful frown creasing her perfect brow. “I’m kind of really feelin’ mushrooms.”

“Oooh,” Bree says, visions of garlic butter already dancing in her head. “Yes.”

“How about that – one vegan place?” Lesley suggests, and Bree makes a face.

“Yeah, but the next bus isn’t for fifteen minutes. Are you sure we’ll have time?”

Lesley flashes a brilliant, sharp-toothed grin. “No, it’s okay. We can take the train.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah, that’s how I got here this morning.” The wattage of Lesley’s grin cranks up a few kilojoules. Or is Bree thinking of amperage? Lesley’s smile gets brighter, anyway. “No more claustrophobia! Actually, the dark underground tunnels were kind of nice.”

“Okay,” Bree says. “We take the train.”

…

“Okay, this is kinda nice,” Bree admits, looking out at the lights flickering past through the otherwise absolute blackness of the tunnel. “Very chill. Little bit cozy, even.”

“Right?” Lesley says. “Like, I think this is how I’m going to get around the city from now on. And it’s so convenient. I’ve been missing out.”

She starts to say something else, but she’s interrupted when a jarring thump shakes the train car. The lights flicker, the car jolting forward and nearly throwing both Bree and Lesley to the ground.

“What the -” Bree starts, and the car jerks to a lurching halt, all the lights going out and plunging the entire car into darkness.

There’s a general rustle and mutter around the car, people shifting in their seats and collecting things that had been thrown around when the car had decided to become a mechanical bucking bronco. They stand – or, in Bree’s case, sit because they can’t reach the hang-straps anymore – in the dark for a handful of heartbeats, before the dim red glow of the emergency lighting kicks in.

“What the fuck,” Bree grumbles. “Oh, it had better not be another troll -”

Lesley sucks in a sharp breath, her pale, silvery eyes almost seeming to shine in the dim light as she stares over Bree’s head, out the window. Bree follows her gaze. All she can see is – maybe a faint blur of motion out in the dark.

[iliketodecompose]

current ask game

thank u @cankersoregirl :-3333

Current time: 18:31 to b specific hehe

Current activity: im making a silly collage out of a sweet wrapper & some printed out Images in my journal >:3 i realised i only like to write abt my feelings when i have Created smth pretty to write it next to lmao. i am like A Little Baby.

Currently thinking about: uh. takeout pizza 4 dinner and ghost files (and school in the back of my brain. im getting dangerously close to my deadlines with barely anything done LMAO. i have 2 photoshoots to do too. I Trust Myself I Think)

Current fav song: maze in the mirror by txt </33333 (& if u want another that lyrically goes rlly well with it; in the mirror by fromis_9. she has the same subject matter but its a LOT more hopeful lmao. they r dating.) i was listening to it last night in the dark rlly depressed & absently reading the lyrics scroll that spotify has and i genuinely started tearing up at the bridge lmao..... 이젠 날고 싶어/ 영원을 나는 피터팬처럼/별이 되고 싶어...... (i want to fly now, endlessly like peter pan, I want to be/become a star......) OH MY GOD. head in hands. THE LYRICAL CONNECTION BETWEEN THIS PART AND TINNITUS ........ (돌멩이 되고 싶어 I wanna be/become a rock specifically) the emotional progression between them and the acceptance of what ur life Is instead of what it Could Be... oo baby.. papa likey

Currently reading: LMAO. i dont think i can say.. Anything? im ABOUT to start king lear for school but idk if that counts.

Currently watching: ........nothing.?? WAIT.. can i count ghost files. im going to be watching ghost files. literally at present moment i am watching a wendigoon video tho

Current fav character: ummmmmmmmmmmm... oooooo... going to cheat and say jihyun AND jaewon. they come in a pair do not separate. IDK . i just lov their Dynamic and i see myself a lot in both of them. the fact that they r gay boyfriends only enhances this 4 me so they go together.

Current wip: uh i write a lot of fic 4 myself!!! and i do currently have one but it feels 2 personal n precious to fully speak into the void. but ITS THERE. its abt cool and hip topics such as Childhood Emotional Abuse and Suicidal Ideation. very lighthearted <3 xxx

[shay-creates]

Writblr Intro?

I have never done a writblr intro, so here we go.

Hello! You can call me Shay. I'm a writer and artist living in the US. Welcome to my art and writing blog!

About me: I'm 25, asexual, transmasc, nonbinary (he/they/it), and unsure where I fall on the romantic spectrum. Tag and Ask game friendly! Asks and conversation encouraged. I'm more scared of you than you are of me, so it may take me a bit to respond. I never know what I'm doing at any given time, so I'm very sporadic in talking about or making anything related to stories or art. I follow/follow back using Shay-Puppity (my main account).

I'm creating my world "Exalos" through stories and art, filling the world with my beloved characters (distant sobbing and screaming). I mainly write in the genre of fantasy with a smattering of mystery, horror, romance, and slice of life. Many of my characters are LGBT+ and the world they live in has no drama surrounding that.

I'm currently focused on my WIP titled "Dread Secrets," but I have several other stories in various stages of development. Dread Secrets is my first time planning with the intent of actually writing and finishing the story. Volume of projects not indicative of me being put together, it is quite the opposite.

Characters tagged by using- OC: Character name (Ex- OC: Celesto)

WIPs tagged by using- Shay WIP: Story title (Ex- Shay WIP: Dread Secrets)

Art tagged by using- Shay's Art

~My WIPs~

This part will be edited as I work on these stories, so there'll eventually be more information to read here.

Dread Secrets (current main project):

Genre/Rating: Medieval Fantasy, mystery, action, romance, adventure, not young adult

TWs: blood, gore, violence, mental/psychological/emotional abuse mentions/vague depictions, slight body horror, war, war refugees mentions/depictions, deaths, murder,

POV: Xiang, Neph, King Ansellus Kestrel, Celesto, Mystery Plotter

Summary: (WIP intro link)

Fifteen years ago, King Ansellus Kestrel of the kingdom Wisea made a last stand against the Dread Queen Celesto, his first love, as the benevolent kingdoms banded together to lay siege to the aptly named, Dread Kingdom. Against all odds, Celesto was beaten. Turned against by the Ancient of the Dread Forest, an unstable Celesto's final moments saw her body transform into a dark and twisted tree that screamed angrily into nothingness without a sound.

They had been in love, Ansellus willing to give Celesto anything he could give her. In four short years, their perfect life together fell to shambles as Celesto betrayed not only Ansellus, but friends and even her own goddaughter, Hibiki, who, even now, clings to her father to feel safe.

Xiang, a student of Prophis, attempts to aid a friend who is cursed to sleep with Grim Twilight Ivy growing around and from his body. His good intentions are rewarded by having a similar curse placed on Xiang himself. A strange mark over his heart and plagued by nightmares of being hunted by the Dread Queen Celesto in the ruins of the Dread Kingdom, Xiang leaves the ancient towers of Prophis to find a way to break the curse before succumbing to it himself. He is given a protector in the form of Malianna Ash, a half-immortal from the fiery Kingdom of Rosha.

Neph, a half-immortal in their early twenties, lives comfortably in the independent city of Rudrian with caretakers Sasha and Bryn Creek and their soft-spoken friend, Celine. Neph longs to gain recognition so they may ascend to immortality in the hopes of reuniting with their immortal mother in Elorial, the realm of immortals. They seize their chance after rescuing Xiang after the Prophis student is separated from Malianna by the crowds. Through the use of incessant nagging and a sprinkle of charisma, Neph manages to join the two strangers on their quest. Celine, who has always been at Neph's side, joins the group to aid them as both a healer and strong nature magic user.

What secrets hide in the past? Will Xiang be able to lift the curse from himself before it's too late? What dreadful secrets hide within the ruins of the Dread Kingdom? Did Celesto find some way to survive and lay low all those years ago, or is the curse the doing of someone else?

Progress: semi-complete timeline, Character illustrations done

Cast: Xiang, Malianna Ash, Neph, Scy Drakenscale, Phelan Noctus, Lorne, Kubo Hibiki, No Eiko, Celine, Scorch (Malianna's unicorn), Flit (Malianna's magic pigeon), Celesto Krone/Kestrel (Dread Queen), Felix Kestrel, King Ansellus Kestrel, Queen Tianna Kestrel, Artos Oak, Kubo Mai, Ling Yazhu, Bao Mingmei, Bao Yating, King Snydus Ash, Silas Ash, Draco, Dissonantia, Bryn Creek, Sasha Creek, Leandra Ash, Xaver Ash, Ferna Krone, Obelus Krone, Imposa Kestrel, Mightrus Kestrel, Ling Chao, Bessarion Thorne, Characters

Gods/Ancients/Primordials of note: God of Memories, God of Sanctuary, God of Guardians, God of Passion, God of Vengeance, God of Lore (Lorne), Ancient of Wisdom, Ancient of Knowledge, God of Dreams, The 11 Immortal Villains (See: Corruption of Heroes), Ancient of the Dread Forest/Forests, Primordial of Death, Primordial of Life

Song association: Guns For Hire by Woodkid + What Could Have Been by Sting and Ray Chen.

Excerpt: Nothing written yet. :3

Tinnitus:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: fantasy, modern setting, dimension hopping, coming of age, suspense, adventure, series, not young adult

POV: Gong Jiahao, Soul Warren, Maddox High, Taeil, Fable Book, Kace Asher, Zhang Remy, Nym Cardinal

Summary: something goes here. Idk if each character gets a book or if characters share a book or whatever, but they do all get some POV. There will be some angst. Also there's a mysterious person who is trying to make a deal or contract with each of the characters. Idk what contracts yet, but there's shenanigans. Also a dumb and campy fight scene because it's dumb and makes me laugh. (They're using the power of dance and music to fight and distract a fucking dragon, it's so dumb. Dumb fight scene go brr.)

Progress: vibes and vague ideas, character concepts concepted

Characters: Primordial of Chaos, Gong Jiahao, Zhang Remy, Soul Warren, Fable Book, Nym Cardinal, Maddox High, Kace Asher, Ace Siren, Mirroh, Pavel Nox, Jung Taeil, Rune Siren, Neph, Xiang, Runais, Xadrian, Phelan, Mirroh Characters

Song association: Illusion by Ateez

Excerpt: Nothing written yet. :3

Heir of Chaos:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: fantasy, modern setting?, medieval setting?, dimension hopping, mystery, series, not young adult

POV: Deimos Muse, Song Kwan, Adriel Sky, Warrick Red, Zhang Remy

Summary: Something goes here. You read that right! Remy is a POV here too. This story and Tinnitus are intertwined with reoccurring characters and that mysterious person is here too. Don't ask me how I plan to write these two stories, I just know they are intertwined.

Progress: vibes and vague ideas

Characters: Deimos Muse, Zhang Remy, Warrick Red, Song Kwan, Adriel Sky, Primordial of Chaos, Lucas String, Mirroh, Shen Saint, Gong Jiahao, Soul Warren, Fable Book, Nym Cardinal, Maddox High, Kace Asher Characters

Song association: Frost or Crown by Tomorrow X Together

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Corruption of Heroes:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: medieval fantasy, mystery, action, not young adult

POV: Kallista and/or Shysie

Summary: A fantasy story that follows the formation and eventual fall from grace of the Eleven Immortal Villains of the Dread Forest. A time when the citizens of Rusa and Centuros were ruled by Dissonantia Krone and her husband Draco Krone, before the two rulers became God of Chaos and Discord respectively. When Rusa and Centuros were constantly in a closely tied battle without bloodshed or animosity. Before the Dread Forest gained its name and the Ancient of Forests was worshiped by both Rusa and Centuros. When the Primordial of Life had curved horns upon its head and Immortals walked the same earth as mortals. How the mighty fall. How the Eleven Immortal Villains came to be (they're mentioned and may cameo in Dread Secrets). We've got Kallista, Shysie, twins Faraph and Gwin, brothers Leucis and Valrus, sapphic throuple Echo/Nyssa/and Whisper, sapphic couple Vasha and Eilla, and Lux as characters.

Progress: vibes and vague ideas, character concepts concepted

Characters: Lux, Shysie Crimson, Kallista Rose, Gwin Snow, Faraph Snow, Echo Song, Vasha Alice, Eilla Alice, Whisper Song, Nyssa Song, Leucis Bard, Valrus Bard, Dissonantia Krone, Draco Krone, Anarvale, Thronk, (more characters to come) Characters

Song association: It Seemed the Better Way by Leonard Cohen or Hunt You Down by The Hit House and Ruby Friedman

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Finding Family:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: slice of life, medieval fantasy, comedy?, pg/pg 13

POV: Pangari, Fintan, Demarcus, Amphon, and/or Yvonna

Summary: A fantasy, slice of life story about a family of Gods in the Immortal Realm. Amphon, God of Blacksmiths, and Yvonna, God of Seamsters, adopted three young Immortals who’ve ascended to godhood. Fintan, God of Flames, is often sleeping in Amphon’s smelter, his blonde hair and skin stained with soot and ash, and he only leaves the home if it’s for his twin sister, Pangari, or adopted brother, Demarcus. Pangari, God of Shadows, is a bubbly and kind-hearted young woman with bright eyes and light blonde waves. She spends as much time as she can with her family, often dragging Fintan out of the smelter to go on walks. Demarcus, God of Artisans, is dutiful and is often working hard on a new blueprint or helping his adopted father design a new sword or gift for Yvonna. This is a story about found family and the bonds that are formed by accepting each other and protecting each other.

Cast: Amphon, Yvonna, Pangari, Demarcus, Fintan, Bunsom, Lorne

Progress: vibes and vague ideas, some characters concepted

Characters

Song association: Family by Mother Mother

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Shadow of Doubt:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: Mystery, thriller, psychological thriller, horror, Crime, mature

POV: Kit Tong

Summary: something goes here. There's a single part that I will legitimately cry while writing, it's the only thing I know will happen and it makes me sad. Great character moment though. Kit has a cat named Milo and I love their cat, it's the beacon of light in the bloody dark. That's all I've got so far. One scene and the MC has a cute cat. That's all you really need though...right?

Progress: vibes and vague ideas

Characters: Kit Tong, Kim Jae-soon, Ito Genji, Sunnie Lee, Zander Blight, Freddie Smith, Mik Forest, (more characters to come) Characters

Song association: You'd Be Paranoid Too by Waterparks or Saints by Echos

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Background of Love:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: romance, comedy, slice of life, BL, GL, fantasy, modern setting, series, not young adult

POV: Elio, Tia, Season, Wins, Rowan, Mingi, Jun

Summary: something goes here. One of the MCs is probably the main MC because he's aro/ace and everyone around them is falling in love left, right, and center so it's like he's in the background if that makes sense? I haven't decided if that character is going to be called Season or Elio. This is the story with the most gay focus of any of my stories.

(old summary for some context: This story follows three couples as they pursue love. Elio has had feelings for his childhood friend Rowan for five years with the other not noticing and soon developing a crush on someone else. Elio decides to stop his feelings for Rowan, no matter how difficult, and allows his friends Dom and Dai to set him up with a temporary boyfriend Mingi. Once Elio decides to move on, Rowan soon discovers how much Elio has done for him over the years and abandons his crush to pursue Elio. Tia, friend of Elio and Dom and Dai has caught herself pining after her neighbor across the street named Mian. Despite all of her bravado and confident air, she can’t bring herself to talk coherently around Mian. No longer being pursued by Rowan, Wins begins to spend more time with Jun since they have many of the same interests. Jun stops spending time with Wins, putting Mingi first as the latter might have developed feelings for his temporary boyfriend. Can Amais, God of Love, help his heartless or will the God have them figure it out for themselves?)

Progress: vibes and vague ideas

Characters: Elio Santiago, Rowan Winters, Kim Mingi, Huang Jun, Xu Mian, Tia Amor, Season Light, Takara Haru, Dom Wong, Dai Angsan, Wins Michaels, God of Soulmates (Amais) Characters

Song association: Fake Protagonist by Getsunova or Lose (english version) by Wonho

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Misfortune:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: fantasy, medieval fantasy?, mystery, suspense, comedy, romance, not young adult

POV: Runais, Xadrian, and/or Lykos (maybe Mirroh?)

Summary: something goes here. Everyone else is having a bad time but Runais and Xadrian are just chaotic dumb and chaotic dumber and I love that for them. This story kind of absorbed another WIP idea I had called "Deja Vu" and I'm not mad about it. I like this story a bit more.

Progress: vibes and vague ideas, some characters concepted

Characters: Xiang, Neph, Runais, Xadrian, Lykos, Mirroh, Primordial of Chaos, Malianna Ash, Scorch, Flit, Phelan, (more characters to come?) Characters

Song association: Seraph by DPR Ian or Who Are You by Sam Kim

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Love Afterlife:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: medieval fantasy, romance, GL, not young adult

POV: Tahari or Nocturne/Aqualise

Summary: something goes here, but I know it's sapphic. The location is the afterlife and I do think I'm clever. Because...they...they find love...in the afterlife....so...love...afterlife.... A sapphic tale between the God of Death and an Immortal Spirit.

Progress: vibes

Characters: Tahari, Nocturne/Aqualise, (more characters to come) Characters

Song association: ???

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Demon Eye:

Moodboard Goes Here

Genre/Rating: fantasy, action, dark fantasy, romance, not young adult

POV: ??? I don't have any characters thought up yet, no names or anything. RIP

Summary: something goes here. It feels really cool in my brain, cool fight scenes go brrr. Cool character concept vibes go brr too.

Progress: vibes

Characters

Song association: ???

Excerpt: Nothing written yet :3

Deja Vu:

Moodboard Goes here

Genre/Rating: fantasy, modern setting?, dimension hopping, mystery, not young adult

POV: Pavel Night

Summary: (technically scrapped) A fantasy, mystery, suspense. Living under the same roof to save money with his six friends, Pavel has had the luxury of having a room to himself thanks to winning a long game of rock, paper, scissors. His ideal world is flipped when one of his friends, Lucas, asks if a friend of his could move in. Though Pavel doesn’t know the friend well, he trusts Lucas’ judgement of character and agrees to let the friend share a room with himself since it’d be easier than Malia moving her things out of one room and into another. As soon as this friend, Mirroh, arrives, Pavel feels a strange distrust of the stranger. Mirroh keeps to himself unless he’s with Lucas, and seems to settle in well enough. But when an accident leaves his friend Shen dead and Ambrose in critical condition, strange things begin to happen. Mirroh’s personality becomes stranger and he seems to know when something bad is about to happen, though he doesn’t seem to lift a finger to stop it. What’s stranger is Pavel wakes up to find himself back to the day of the first accident that began it all. What can Pavel do to prevent the accidents? Does Mirroh know something and is keeping it a secret? Who is the stranger that confirms that Pavel should not trust Mirroh? Should he listen to the stranger?

Progress: Technically scrapped, vibes, vague ideas, 5 chapters written

Cast: ???, Lucas String, Mirroh, Shen Saint, Ambrose Saint, Malia Shield, Pavel Nox, Rune Siren, Ace Siren, Pavel Night

Song Association: ???

Excerpt: ):

[zyrafowe-sny]

phantom limb pain for WIP Wednesday please! Hope the doctor can help with the ear infection

Two rounds of antibiotics absolutely helped and I think my hearing's mostly back, but over two months later I still have some extra crackling and tinnitus. (Yes, it's been a while since I worked on this fic. :P)

The exterior door shut firmly in front of Ambrosius, but Ballister could still make out his (somewhat muffled) voice. “Security override! This is Ambrosius Goldenloin. Stand down!”

[outpost51]

Happy STS! What is your writer's calling card? Your marker's mark? The thing that would make someone look at one of your pieces and go, "Oh yeah, I know EXACTLY who wrote this!"

nopaaaaaaaal happy sts!!

man... the way i write dialogue has been pointed out to me, and like. idk there's just something about the imagery i use that's very me. for example:

No one noticed her slipping through the emergency room doors either. Maybe she wasn’t real. The acerbic scent of life and death and every state in-between rushed forward to greet her, tossing about the hem of her gown with all the boldness of a bar brawl and settled over her exposed flesh like an ex’s cologne, sickly and pungent and overpowering all rational thought.

and

I should have been afraid, still reeling from the adrenaline pumping through my system, but all I could focus on in that moment was Quinn: how the flashing lights made her dark eyes sparkle, how her victorious grin dimpled her cheeks, how the lighter patches on her skin reflected the rainbow of neon lights and made her look like divinity incarnate, how she remembered the stupid story about my stupid nickname that I’d told her once late at night when we both couldn’t sleep.

and

“That’s it,” a soft rumble tiptoes around her tinnitus in favor of a sensual trepanation, slithering into her skull through the hole it bored. “Louder.”

and

As if the silent shock bulging his eyes wasn’t enough to give Dillon the vindication she deserved after her unjust humiliation, the wayward pancake chose that moment to unstick itself from the ceiling and crown Gus as the king of fools.

four different wips! all different povs and tenses and settings, still very much korble-brand prose.

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 160

Hello, I'm Tired, how are you? I hate January and February, the give me bouts of seasonal depression and that ruins my groove. I'll manage tho. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for A Sign that you're important at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

A Sign that you're important

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: One month upon his assigment as Doctor Robotnik's assitant, Agent Stone is told to learn sign language. He doesn't know why, and isn't suicidal enough to ask, so he simply rolls with it. Turns out, it's not just a whimsy of the eccentric doctor, even though that doesn't stop the doctor from utilizing it like one.

Progress: Chapter 4 was posted on 11th of January. The fifth chapter will be posted on 18th of January aka the next Thursday. Chapter 5 is finished and ready to be posted. I'll need to do a chapter 6, cause Robotnik really, really wanted to wallow and be gay for Stone for a full chapter, mostly at the same time too. Unsure if chapter 6 will be full length or basically a half-length epilogue, we'll see.

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Life at the laboratory (I'm starting to not like this title, might change it)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary:

"Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you." 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be part one of a two-parter longfic, the first part probably... 10-ish chapters? It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change - will probably end up being increased tbh. My weekly writing hour (as in, a specific hour when I sit down and write, no excuses [other than not being home]) is devoted to this fic.

I have the first five chapters completely written. Chapter 6 has been started.

I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

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Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

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That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into A Sign that you're important (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Turned out, even super advanced hearing aids didn’t take well to getting jostled around like maracas at the speed of sound by a hedgehog, getting blasted through an interdimensional portal they hadn’t been tested for, and crashing loudly and violently into Toadstool Tartarus. In fact, the left one went into tinnitus mode and the right one simply shut down completely. It made crawling out of a crashed aircraft much worse than it already would have been by default.

Once he was out and had enough distance to not get blown to smithereens or showered with shrapnel should his aircraft decide to explode, both hearing aids were promptly removed from his sore ears.

“This will put a damper on whatever plan I will begin hatching as soon as I get my bearings”, Doctor Robotnik said to himself, already hating the likely long lasting silence, especially when that included his own voice.

-----

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[justinewrites]

Explained to Branden how the pirate wip MC now has hearing loss due to a large explosion. He responds "So at the very least, he'll have tinnitus... Which means someone will get to gently hold his head and show him that drumming with your fingers can lessen the ringing 👀👀"

And he says he doesn't write romance

[miammey]

Okay since I saw someone dropping fic ideas in the asks, I come bearing gifts!

I've had this silly little Suegiku one-shot in my drafts for longer than I care to admit- but anyway-

Basically Jouno stands a bit too close to the ground zero of an explosion, giving him temporary tinnitus or another non-permanent hearing issue and he's completely lost, to the point he can't differentiate between friend or foe anymore since he relied on hearing for that and the smoke in the air is blocking the more subtle smells that he'd use to identify his fellow Hunting Dogs

The only person he can reliably identify is Tecchou because he smells like some unholy concoction of food items that Jouno would bet his left kidney that it could not possibly be anyone else

Jouno ofc is still stubborn as hell and doesn't want to admit that he feels a bit helpless, but he stays around Tecchou on purpose because he trusts him to keep him safe until he gets to a place to recover :)

Thoughts? I'm definitely open to criticism on this because somehow that WIP just won't write itself smh

Ooohhh yes yes yes, that’s so interesting!!! Aaaaa I love the idea of Tecchou being the thing to ground Jouno for whatever reason