#it sounds weird but it's comforting to me to be able to visit myself from the past and say hi!

[oddheadd]

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter III

Skinwalker/Wendigo x reader

CW: Gross things like rotting :P

SMUT!! Rough sex, voyerism, non-consentual at the end(?)

I couldn't sleep last night. The screaming kept me awake.

Screaming? It sounded animalistic, the broken voice desperately wheezing and calling for attention. I laid there helplessly, clutching my pillow and worrying about wether I locked my doors or not. I was too scared to check them, so I just kept staring at the curtains, my heart almost popping out of its place as I tried to look away from them.

I couldn't, and at about 5-6 am, when the screaming had stopped, I dozed off. I later woke up at 4 pm, and weirdly enough, I was inspired to write some more. I put my nightly terror into descriptive paragraphs and created a monster.

One with long, grey, skinny limbs and hair thin enough to see it's pure white eyes... Rotten teeth caging the slithering maggots in its hollow mouth.

I take a deep breath and close my laptop. I grab my phone and see that Nathan had texted me last night.

"Do you drink?"

I can't help but smile and instantly start typing.

"after whatever the hell happened last night, I do."

I put my phone away and make myself a quick meal. My phone buzzes.

"And what happned?"

I chuckle at his misspelling.

"I heard someone or something screaming. I couldn't sleep all night :("

He answers quickly;

"Jackals?"

And I answer just as fast.

"Kind of... It had an artificial echo to it? Don't know how to explain."

I purse my lips and put my phone down. Taking a bite out of the poor excuse of a meal.

"You could demonstrate, when I take you to a bar in the town."

Smile grows on my face as I reread his messages. I should go, what's the worst that can happen? So, we text each other the details and it's a date!

I leave the cabin and decide to look around the village this time. Ain't no way I'm going into the forest after last night.

I try my best to remember the way home as I walk past the other cabins. I admire the architecture - simple, but charming nonetheless. Then I spot a girl, no older than nine looking at me through the window. I smile and give her a wave.

She stays still and keeps staring at me. My hand falls back to my side, and so does my smile. I avoid her gaze and keep walking. I take a few pictures and maybe make a few angels in the snow, before I see an old woman, just barely walking. I approach her. - "Hello, want me to walk you home?"

I get a better look at her face. It's wrinkled, as if her skin is melting off her face. Her eyes are marble like, despite being as dark as coals. I can barely make out her lips that stretch into an uncanny line. Her hair as thin as the monster's that I made up.

She looks at me before her face scrunches up, even more, into a scowl. - "...What are you doing here?" - My mood falters.

"...I used to come here as a child... My mother passed and I decided to visit for a while." - I explain myself. She raises an eyebrow and grabs my arm for support.

"(Your mother)'s kid. You've... Changed, quite a bit."

I tilt my head. - "Do I know you?"

"You'd always steal from my brother's cherry trees. You used to be an annoying, little rascal."

I chuckle awkwardly. - "I get that a lot. So you live down the road?"

"You've become... A very appetizing person." - She says, avoiding my question. I try not to think about her weird wording.

"...Thank you?" - I say after a long pause.

"I used to be like you. Maybe my skin was healthier." - She scoffs, bits of her saliva falling out of her mouth. - "...Not fair... At all." - she sighs.

I stay quiet as she rambles, a little more comfortable now that we've approached her cabin.

"But whatever it wants, it gets." - She says. She tightens her grip. - "Count yourself lucky, being able to serve it like that."

After that I head straight to my cabin. I can't wait to drink with Nathan tonight.

Now as I stand in the snow, my ass literally freezing off, I start to feel disappointed. He promised he'd pick me up, but now I'm getting worried he got lost and mauled.

Tiny snowflakes start falling, adding onto the already layered snow that's coating the ground. I sigh and check my phone again. My frown intensifies, when I see there's no new messages.

I almost fall off the bench on the porch when I see a figure in the corner of my eye.

"Jesus, Nathan. Do you always have to scare me like that?" - I rest my palm on my chest, dramatically so.

He flashes me the Cheshire grin - "Sorry."

I get off the porch and shove my hands into my pocket, a wave of disappointment washing over me when the pockets are just as cold.

"I thought the huge deer got to you." - I tease.

He narrows his eyes. - "I'm at the top of the food chain, you don't have to worry about stuff like that." - He brags and gives me his hand. I take it with a snort, his hands as cold as mine. - "I don't think we can make it to the Bar, it's too far away. And, it's getting dark."

I pout. He chuckles. - "But I know how to make it up to you~" - He says and takes out a flask from his coat.

I raise an eyebrow. - "Charming."

I then walk back to the front door of the cabin and unlock it, going inside. - "Come on in, I'm freezing." - I complain and look at him.

He follows after me with a smile and looks around. - "It's pretty cozy in here."

I chuckle and sit him down onto the couch. - "I think we have some old wine in the attic. Try not to miss me too much."

"Don't worry, I'm patient." - he smiles softly.

I turn on the flashlight on my phone after a hard struggle against the attic door, coughing my lungs out when the dust flies around in the air. I climb up and start looking around the boxes for the wine.

I smile when I finally find it. There's two blood red bottles with no distinct label on them, so I pick them up. My smile falls as I see a... Doll? It's made out of straws, clearly resembling a human body. I pick it up and inspect further. Is this a hex? I put it back down and get up, chills running down my spine when I notice a big red symbol on the wall. I stare at it for a while before turning around and leaving with the bottles in my hands.

I have a guest right now, I'll deal with it later.

On my way, I grab go into the kitchen to get glasses.

"I only have mugs and teacups, no fancy glasses." - I say before grabbing the cups and sitting next to him. He throws his arm around my shoulder.

"I don't look like the fancy type though, do I?" - He chuckles and I shrug.

I pour us some wine and sip from my cup. - "So, why did you move here again?"

"Nature always called out to me." - He shrugs. - "And you, Y/N? What's your job and why did you come here?"

I purce my lips. - "Well, I'm a writer. I've written some stuff but nothing special, really. I wanted to write a horror book and came here to set the mood, ya know?"

"And how's that working out?" - He tilts his head.

I sigh. - "I'm having the worst writer's block I've ever had. Barely wrote a few pages."

"Let's see then." - He says, and I hesitantly agree. I grab my laptop and open the file, handing it to him.

I stand up and approach the fireplace, tending to it as he reads for a while.

"It's great." - He smiles and I look back at him.

"Is it?"

"A little complaint... You're trying too hard to explain all the details. Reading is all about letting people warp characters and places into whatever their mind makes up."

"...That makes a lot of sense, actually." - I sit back next to him. - "Can you help me?"

He eyes me and nods.

I don't know how much time passes, but we're now sitting on the floor and already have finished the second bottle of wine, now taking turns on taking a swing out of Nathan's flask. I've been taking notes, typing away furiously.

As I let out a deep breath, I look up from my laptop screen and the whole room starts spinning. I grunt and put the gadget away, placing my head in Nathan's lap. He chuckles and strokes my hair. - "Are you alright?"

"...A little tired. And dizzy." - I pout. Nathan just keeps smiling and sits me up again, making me look at him by taking my chin in-between his fingers.

I keep looking into his eyes and his smile never falters, only getting closer to my own lips. I instinctively close my eyes and part my lips a little, almost melting into Nathan's arms when they connect with his.

My heated cheeks heat up even more when he lays me down onto the soft, warm carpet and lets out a deep groan.

Then I can't even comprehend what happened, when I look to my side and see both mine and his clothes on the floor. Then I feel his erected cock, rubbing against me and realize I'm not wearing any underwear neither. I look back at him and pull him into a kiss again, moaning in delight. He then pushes it inside of me, spreading the walls to make more room for himself and and starts gently grinding it deeper out of me.

I lose track of time and what's happening again, and this time feel him mercilessly thrusting his hips against my ass, almost steaming air of heat spreading into the whole room while his rough fingers caress all the right spots. I let out moans and whimpers in-between my breaths, while he muffles his in my collarbone.

"Don't stop... Fuck, Nathan..." - I moan out his name and he looks up at me.

He then runs his fingers through my hair pulls my head back, giving me a view of the rest of the room, before he buries his face into my neck and leaves a trail of sloppy kisses.

I get closer to cumming, feeling myself spasm and squeeze around him, before I notice something in the windows. There are people outside my cabin... They're chanting something while drawing a symbol on the windows...

It's the same symbol as the one in my attic. I huff and try to stop Nathan but he can't even see my expression with his head buried into my neck. I shut my eyes and try my best not to cry... And soon enough, pass out.

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 12.

I quickly tidied up my small apartment after everyone had left, resulting in me crashing on the couch. I sighed contently, pulling out my phone as I felt it buzz.

jake: so when is you amd Johnnie's wedding?

me: you've used that joke like 10 times get better

jake: shut up but fr whats going onnnn

me: jake you literally love with him idk why you're asking me cause idk

me: live*

jake: yes y/n I'm in love with johnnie

jake: oh.

me: shut up 😭

jake: ig I'll go have a chat with johnnje

me: that's not scary at all

jake: :)

me: ok lmk please

jake: sorry, bro code still exists

me: oh my GOOOOD jake I swear

me: whatever goodnight twink

jake: nighty night

I left him on read and got up, making my way into my bedroom. of course, the one thing I forgot to do was make my bed. you could still see the way the covers were twisted from where me and johnnie laid. I smiled softly to myself, sitting down on the bed and undressing.

my phone went off once more. I rolled my eyes, assuming it was jake coming back to bully me more. i picked up my phone off the night stand and read the message I had gotten.

mom: hey honey! how have you been? me and your father will be coming to town in March to check on you and the cafe. well see you soon! miss you bunches.

I didn't bother opening the message, internally groaning at the thought of having to see my parental figures for more than a day. every time they visited, they'd stay around a week and constantly harass me. it always messed up my whole schedule, and now it'd be even worse with johnnie, jake, and Tara in my life. I wouldn't hear the end of it from them. I'd get my ear chewed off by them, saying my friends are weird or stupid shit that wasn't true. if they weren't the perfect people, then they were nobody to my parents. it was dissapointing to me, and honestly embarrassing. i tossed my phone onto the nightstand and placed my hands over my face, sighing loudly. my phone vibrated loudly, startling me out of my exasperated state. i groaned, assuming it was someone i wouldn't be very happy talking to. i let it ring a little longer before reading the caller ID. my phone read "johnnie." i flew out of my bed, snatching my phone. i answered his face time call after making sure my hair wasn't a mess.

"hello?" johnnies raspy voice came through the phone, making me face heat up. he was close to the camera, i was only able to see his nose and eyes.

"Hi, johnnie." I smiled, matching his camera angle. "what's up?"

"I'm bored and playing fortnite alone." he said, propping his phone up.

"oh shit, I've never really played fortnite." I admitted.

"we gotta change that." he smirked. "i'll have to teach you how to play next time you come over."

i smiled, "okay."

it went silent for a bit, allowing me to examine his makeup. he had streaks of eyeliner coming down one eye with bright blue eyeshadow around and on his eyelid. somehow, he noticed me staring. he obviously had an amazing eye, considering we were on the phone and not in person. "what?" he giggled, a light blush showing through his makeup.

"i don't know, i like your makeup." i looked at the ceiling instead of the phone, laying down to get comfortable. i propped my phone up on my nightstand.

"really?" his smile grew, "you should let me do yours sometime. i mean, i usually don't like doing other peoples, but i think it'd be fun with you."

i wondered what made me different than anyone else, but i didn't bother asking. i rubbed my eyes and muttered, "sounds fun."

"you tired?" he asked, his whole demeanor changing as i heard shooting coming from the background. his hands fondled with the controller swiftly as he fought the other player. his eyebrows scrunched together as he focused, his smiling dropping.

"i mean, yeah." i laughed at him. "that seems intense."

he tossed his hands up in the air in defeat. "what the fuck, dude." i continued to laugh at him, causing him to look at the phone. "wow."

"i'm sorry, it's just funny as fuck seeing you like this." i explained, gently closing my eyes.

he rolled his eyes playfully. "whatever." he had a small smile on his face as he loaded into the next match. "you know what else would be fun?"

"hm?"

"if we went to a concert together." he pondered. "have you ever been to a concert before?"

"no, just school concerts." i said. "who would we even go see?"

"i don't know. my chemical romance, really whoever's in town." he paused. "that we like."

"well, obviously. you like my chemical romance?" i asked, surprised.

"is it not obvious?" he giggled.

i rolled my eyes. "whatever. mcr is one of my favorite bands, though. i never hear about anyone who likes them anymore."

"i love them too." he smiled at me.

the silence began to lull me to sleep, along with johnnies presence on the other side of the phone. my eyes began to feel heavy, and i eventually fell asleep.

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader

Part 13: Fractured Memories

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying these chapters! Enjoyyy!💜🩵💛

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

5.4k words

Logan's Pov 

It had been a week since Violet had fallen into this deep sleep, and every day felt like an eternity. Laura and I were doing our best to adjust to this new environment—the mansion, the people, the memories it stirred. It was strange being here, with so many familiar faces from another life, but not quite the same.

Laura had started to settle in, finding a bit of a routine among the other kids. She was tough, adapting quickly, but I could see the strain of worrying about Violet weighing on her. We both tried to keep busy, but every time I saw her glance toward the medical wing, I knew her thoughts mirrored mine.

Wade and Vanessa had been a constant presence, popping in every day to check on Violet. Wade would usually bring some ridiculous item—a rubber chicken, a glitter bomb, once even a miniature disco ball—hoping to coax a reaction out of her. It was his way of showing he cared, in that weird, over-the-top manner of his. Vanessa, ever the calming influence, would just sit with Violet for a while, talking to her softly, as if her voice alone could bring Violet back.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Wade and Vanessa had taken it upon themselves to fix the door that had been blasted to pieces during our last encounter. Wade had insisted on doing it himself, with Vanessa supervising to make sure he didn't turn it into another one of his "creative projects." I wasn't sure if the door would end up looking like it belonged in a normal apartment or if it would be some sort of over-the-top, Wade-style masterpiece, but either way, I appreciated the help.

As for me, I spent most of my time between the medical wing and the training room, trying to work off the restlessness that came from waiting. The training room was a good place to clear my head, to burn off the frustration of not being able to do more for Violet. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, at the end of the day, I always found myself back by her side, waiting for some sign of change.

Laura was doing her best to stay strong, but I could tell it was taking a toll on her too. She'd visit Violet every day, sometimes just sitting in silence, other times telling her about the small things happening around the mansion—who she'd met, what she'd learned. It was like she was trying to keep Violet connected to the world, even if she couldn't respond.

One morning, after another round in the training room, I found myself back in Violet's room, as usual. I sat down in the chair beside her bed, looking at her peaceful face, and sighed. "C'mon, Violet," I muttered, not for the first time. "We're all waiting for you."

The only response was the steady beep of the machines monitoring her, a sound I'd grown to both hate and find comfort in. It was a reminder that she was still here, even if she was taking her time finding her way back to us.

I leaned back in the chair, letting my eyes close for a moment, and just listened to the sounds of the mansion—the distant chatter, the occasional burst of laughter from the kids, the soft footsteps of people passing by. It was strange, this place. It wasn't home, not really, but it was starting to feel like something close to it.

I decided to take a small walk to clear my head, needing some air after the endless days of waiting. The grounds of the mansion were quiet, with the early morning sun casting long shadows across the grass. It was peaceful, but my mind was anything but. I kept thinking about Violet, about what would happen when she finally woke up. 

When I returned to the mansion, I was surprised to find Charles waiting for me at the front door. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes that put me on edge.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"She's awake," Charles said, his voice gentle but filled with an undercurrent of concern.

For a moment, all I felt was pure joy and relief. She was awake. After all this time, Violet was finally awake. I was ready to rush inside, to see her, to tell her how much I'd missed her, but before I could take a step, Charles held up a hand to stop me.

"Wait, Logan," he said, his tone more serious now. "There's something you need to know."

I turned to him, the joy in my chest quickly giving way to apprehension. 

"What is it?"Charles hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. 

"Violet has no memory of the last two months," he said as delicately as he could.

I stared at him, the words not quite sinking in at first. "What do you mean she lost her memory of the last two months?" I asked, my voice sharp with confusion.

Charles sighed, his expression somber. "She doesn't remember anything, Logan. Not the mission, not what happened with Strucker...not even meeting you."The words hit me like a punch to the gut. 

My mind reeled, trying to process what he was saying. "She doesn't remember me?" I repeated, the disbelief and anger beginning to bubble up inside me.

"No," Charles confirmed, his voice steady but filled with empathy. 

"It's as if those two months never happened for her. And there's more, Logan."I clenched my fists, the frustration building.

 "What more could there be?"

"You can't talk to her about your history together," Charles said, his tone firm but caring. 

"If you try to force those memories back, it could cause serious damage to her mind. She's fragile right now, and pushing her too hard could lead to a blackout or worse."The anger surged within me, hot and fierce. 

"So what, I'm just supposed to pretend like none of it happened? Like she means nothing to me?" I snapped, the idea of losing everything we'd built together hitting me hard.

"I know it's not fair, Logan," Charles said calmly, meeting my gaze with understanding. "But right now, we have to focus on her recovery. The memories may come back on their own in time, but you can't risk her safety by trying to force them. we need you to be patient, even if it's difficult."

"But I have the right to see her and talk to her right?" Hoping he would say yes. 

Charles sighed, his expression sympathetic yet firm. "I understand your frustration, Logan. You care about her deeply, and that's why this is so hard. But for now, it's best if we allow her the space she needs to heal. You can see her, but only when she's ready. Pushing her too soon might do more harm than good."

I clenched my fists, the tension in my body evident. "But I need to be there for her. She might not remember me, but I still remember her. I can't just sit back and do nothing."

As I continued to argue with Charles, my frustration boiling over, a familiar scent caught my attention. My head snapped in the direction of the source, heart pounding. It was her—Violet. I could smell her, that unique blend of sweetness and something else, something comforting that I couldn't put into words. My eyes locked onto her as she walked down the hallway with Hank by her side.

Without thinking, I began moving toward her, my need to be near her overwhelming any logic or reason. I could feel Charles's gaze on my back, but his words were drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears. I had to see her, to talk to her, to remind her of what we had, even if she didn't remember.

Violet's POV

I woke up in a room I'd never seen before. The walls were stark white, illuminated by bright overhead lights that gave everything an almost sterile feel. The surface I was lying on was hard and cold, a far cry from anything comfortable. As my senses returned, a sharp ache pulsed in my head, and I was bombarded by the sound of muffled voices—loud, chaotic, like I was suddenly thrust into the middle of New York City during rush hour. The noise was overwhelming, making my head throb even more as I sat up, wincing in pain.

The cacophony abruptly ceased when the round door across the room slid open with a soft hiss. A man in a lab coat stepped inside. He was scrawny, with glasses perched on his nose, and an air of calm that didn't match the unsettling environment. He noticed that I was awake and offered a small smile, one that didn't seem threatening, so I didn't feel the need to fight or flee.

"You're finally awake," he said, his tone gentle but with an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite place.

I blinked at him, trying to piece together where I was and how I got here, but nothing came to mind. My memory was blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. Panic started to rise in my chest, but I forced it down, focusing on the man in front of me.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice rough from disuse.

The man hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much to tell me. "you're fine, You're safe," he finally said, but the answer only made me more uneasy. Safe didn't tell me anything. Safe didn't explain why I couldn't remember anything or why my head felt like it was splitting in two.

"Why am I here?" I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing anxiety. The man adjusted his glasses, his gaze shifting slightly. "You've been through a lot. There was an... incident. You might not remember everything right now, but that's okay. We're here to help you."

I frowned, the words not adding up in my mind. An incident? What kind of incident? And who were we? I needed answers, but the pounding in my head made it hard to think straight.

"What do you mean, an incident? What happened to me?" I asked, my frustration starting to seep into my voice.

The man sighed softly, looking at me with a mix of sympathy and caution. "It's a lot to process, and I don't want to overwhelm you. But for now, just know that you're in a safe place, and we'll help you get through this."

His words did little to comfort me, only deepening the unease gnawing at the edges of my mind. What wasn't he telling me? The questions spun in my head, each one more urgent than the last.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, my voice shaky despite my efforts to stay calm. I could feel the panic creeping up, threatening to take over.

The man in the lab coat hesitated, his eyes flicking away from mine before he answered. "You've been unconscious for about a week," he said softly, as if trying to ease the blow.

A week. The word echoed in my mind, leaving me reeling. An entire week of my life, gone. My thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all. I couldn't remember how I got here or why I was wearing this ridiculous suit, I couldn't remember much, but it felt like there was something important missing—something just out of reach.

"What happened to me?" I asked again, more desperately this time. "Why can't I remember everything?"

The man stepped closer, holding up his hands as if to calm me. "It's normal to feel disoriented after what you've been through. Your memories might return with time. For now, you just need to focus on resting and regaining your strength."

I nodded slowly, though his words did little to ease the growing anxiety within me. There was a void in my memory, and I had to figure out what I was missing. But for now, I needed to stay calm, stay focused, and find out more about where I was and who this man was. The answers would come, but I had to be patient.

"Okay, but where exactly am I?" I asked, the anxiety in my voice growing. I needed to know more than vague reassurances—I needed the truth.

Before the man in the lab coat could respond, the door behind him opened, and someone else entered the room. My attention shifted immediately to the newcomer. He was a man in a wheelchair, his presence commanding yet calm. He looked not too young but not too old, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, and his head was completely bald.

The man in the lab coat stepped aside respectfully, as if deferring to the man in the wheelchair. The newcomer's gaze met mine, and in that moment, I felt a strange sense of familiarity, though I couldn't place it.

"You must have many questions," the man in the wheelchair said, his voice steady and reassuring. "And you deserve answers. But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Charles Xavier."

There was something in the way he spoke, a calm authority that put me slightly at ease despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"Where am I?" I repeated, my voice a mix of determination and confusion. "What is this place?"

Charles Xavier nodded, understanding the urgency of my need for information. "You're at a facility that's part of my school—a place where we help individuals like you learn to understand and control their abilities. You've been through a great deal, and you're safe here, Violet."

His words were gentle, but they carried weight. A school? Abilities? The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but there were still so many gaps, so many unknowns.

"Why can't I remember anything?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as the frustration and fear threatened to overwhelm me.

"That is something we will work on together," Charles Xavier said kindly. "You've experienced something traumatic, and your mind has protected you by blocking out certain memories. But I believe, in time, those memories will return."

I looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but found none. There was only sincerity and a deep understanding of what I was going through. Despite the confusion and fear, a part of me wanted to trust him, to believe that he could help me make sense of all this. But trust wasn't something that came easily to me, not after everything I had been through. Still, for now, I had no choice but to follow his lead and try to piece together the fragments of my past.

Before I could respond, a sharp, searing pain suddenly shot through my head, even more intense than before. It felt like my skull was being split open, the agony so overwhelming that it nearly knocked the breath out of me. I gasped, clutching my head with both hands as the pain pulsed through my temples, making it impossible to think, to focus on anything other than the sheer, blinding agony.

Charles Xavier's expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and he wheeled himself closer, his blue eyes filled with worry. The man in the lab coat stepped forward, looking alarmed, but it was Charles who spoke first.

"Violet, listen to my voice," he said, his tone calm but urgent. "Focus on my voice and try to breathe. I'm here to help you."

I tried to do as he said, tried to focus on his voice, but the pain was so intense that it felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside. My vision blurred, and I could feel the edges of my consciousness slipping away, the world around me fading as the pain threatened to pull me under.

"Stay with me, Violet," Charles urged, his voice steady, a lifeline in the storm of agony. "You're stronger than this. Focus on my voice. Breathe."

I clung to his words, forcing myself to take deep, shaky breaths, trying to push through the pain. Slowly, the blinding intensity began to subside, the sharpness dulling to a throbbing ache that still pulsed through my head but was no longer overwhelming.

As the pain receded, I opened my eyes, still breathing heavily, my body trembling from the effort. Charles was watching me closely, his gaze filled with both concern and something else—an understanding that went beyond mere sympathy.

"You're not alone, Violet," he said softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that I desperately needed in that moment. "We're here to help you through this. Whatever you're experiencing, you don't have to face it on your own."

I nodded weakly, too drained to respond with words, but something in his tone, in the way he spoke, made me want to believe him. The pain had left me shaken, but his presence, and the calm authority in his voice, was like an anchor, keeping me grounded in the midst of the storm.

As the pain gradually subsided, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, but I forced myself to stay focused. The guy in the lab coat, who had been standing by anxiously, stepped forward and spoke gently.

"I'm going to check your vitals now, just to see if there's anything medically wrong," he said, his voice calm and professional.

I hesitated for a moment, still wary, but then I nodded. "Okay," I replied, my voice still a bit shaky. I wasn't sure what was happening to me, but if there was something physically wrong, I needed to know.

As he checked my vitals, Charles asked me a question. "What is the last thing you do remember, Violet?"

I looked at him, trying to concentrate. "I, uh..." I struggled to focus, sifting through my memories. "I remember getting off work and walking to the coffee shop to meet my friend Vanessa." I squinted my eyes as I spoke, trying to grasp onto that memory.

Charles nodded, looking at me attentively. "Okay, and what day is it?"

I looked at him, confused. "June 23rd?"

As I said that, he glanced at the guy across from me, who paused for a moment before continuing his work. There was a look on both of their faces that made me uneasy.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling like something was wrong.

"Nothing is wrong, Violet," Charles said, placing his hand over mine. I flinched at the sudden movement, but surprisingly, it didn't bother me.

For some reason I didn't believe him, but I decided not to press further, my hunger suddenly taking over.

As Glasses finished checking my vitals, Charles spoke up again, his tone gentle. "Are you hungry, Violet?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I admitted, surprised at how quickly the hunger grew in my stomach.

Charles nodded with a small smile. "Alright. Hank," he said, turning to the man in the lab coat, "when you're done, please take Violet to the kitchen so she can get something to eat."

The man—Hank—nodded, focusing on his work. "Of course," he replied, checking my pulse and then adjusting the cuff on my arm.

As I watched him, I couldn't help but feel a bit curious. "Hank? That's your name?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

He glanced up at me with a small smile. "Yeah, Hank McCoy," he said, his tone friendly.

I nodded, filing the name away. There was something comforting about having a name to go with the face, something that made this whole situation feel a little less alien.

After a few more checks, Hank stepped back, satisfied with the readings. "Everything looks stable," he said, turning to Charles. "I'll take her to the kitchen now."

Charles gave me a reassuring nod. "Go with Hank, Violet. Get something to eat and take a moment to rest. We'll talk more after you've had a chance to recover a bit."

I nodded, feeling a bit more grounded than before, and allowed Hank to help me off the examination table. My legs felt weak and I felt like I was going to fall down but Hank swiftly grabbed me and I held onto his arm as we headed toward the door. As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions—confusion, fear, but also a small spark of hope. Whatever had happened to me, whatever this place was, I wasn't alone in it. And that made all the difference.

As I walked alongside Hank, I tried to push aside the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind. The situation was overwhelming, and I knew I needed a distraction, something to keep me from dwelling on the fear and confusion that threatened to take over. I glanced at Hank, noticing for the first time that he had a kind face, one that exuded both intelligence and warmth. A thought crossed my mind, and I found myself smirking slightly—he was kind of cute.

Trying to lighten the mood and distract myself, I decided to make conversation. "So, what do you do here besides check vitals?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Hank looked over at me, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, checking vitals is just one of my many talents," he replied with a playful tone. "But most of the time, I'm a scientist. I specialize in genetics and biochemistry. I also do a fair bit of engineering—anything from creating new technology to improving existing systems."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "Wow, that's... a lot," I said, trying to wrap my head around it. "So, you're like a genius, then?"

Hank chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I wouldn't go that far. I just have a deep love for science and a curiosity that never seems to be satisfied. There's always something new to discover or understand."

His passion for his work was evident in the way he spoke, and it was contagious. For a moment, it made me forget the confusion and fear I had been feeling, and instead, I found myself intrigued by this man who clearly had a brilliant mind.

"So, do you get to do a lot of that here? The science and engineering stuff, I mean," I asked, genuinely interested in what his day-to-day life might be like in a place like this.

"All the time," Hank replied with a nod. "This place is like a second home to me. It's where I can fully explore the possibilities of my work, and it's also a place where I can help others—people like you—understand their abilities and potential."

His words struck a chord with me. There was something reassuring about the idea that this place wasn't just a sterile lab or a prison—it was a place for learning and growth, a place where people could discover who they were meant to be.

As we continued down the hallway, I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. Hank's presence and the way he spoke about his work made me feel like maybe, just maybe, this was a place where I could start to figure things out.

Hank glanced at his phone, checking something briefly before looking back at me with a smile. "Well, it looks like I'm going to be your guide for the day," he said, his tone light and friendly.I couldn't help but smile back, feeling a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders. "A guide, huh? So, what does that entail?"

Hank chuckled softly. "Basically, I'll be showing you around, making sure you're comfortable, and answering any questions you might have. Think of me as your personal tour guide and support system all rolled into one."

"That doesn't sound too bad," I replied, genuinely appreciating his warmth and willingness to help. "I could definitely use a guide right about now."

He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I'm here to help with whatever you need. And who knows? Maybe by the end of the day, this place won't seem quite so overwhelming."

As we continued walking, I found myself feeling a bit more at ease. Hank's easygoing nature and the way he approached everything with a sense of calm made the situation feel less intimidating. Maybe having a guide through all of this wasn't such a bad thing after all. We finally made it to the kitchen, and Hank kindly made me a sandwich. I was so hungry that I devoured it in minutes, barely pausing to breathe. The food helped calm my nerves, and we chatted a bit more, the conversation light and easy. It felt nice, almost normal, which was something I hadn't experienced in what felt like a long time.

As we talked, I glanced down at myself and realized I was still wearing a purple suit. It looked a lot like the one I had at home, but there was something different about it—something better. It hugged my skin perfectly, almost like it was tailored specifically for me.

"Is there any way I could change out of this?" I asked, a hint of frustration in my voice. "I feel like a comic book character wearing this."

Hank smiled, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "We tried," he admitted. "My assistant actually attempted to put you in different clothes, but the suit... well, it's stuck to your skin. We couldn't get it off."

His words made me freeze. I looked down at the suit again, more closely this time. It was seamless, almost like a second skin, and the more I looked, the more I realized he was right—it wasn't just clothing; it was somehow bonded to me.

Without really thinking about it, I flicked my wrist in frustration. To my shock, the suit vanished, replaced by a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants. I stared down at myself, then looked up at Hank, who was equally stunned.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and curiosity. I shook my head, still processing what had just happened. "I have no idea," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "I just... did it."

Hank studied me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and concern. "It seems your abilities are manifesting in ways we didn't anticipate," he said softly. "We're going to have to figure out the extent of what you can do."

I nodded slowly, trying to wrap my head around everything. Whatever was happening to me, it was more than just a change of clothes—it was something far deeper, something I didn't fully understand yet. And that realization was both thrilling and terrifying. As we walked back from the kitchen, Hank turned to me with a friendly smile. "I'm going to give you a tour so you don't get lost, and then I'll show you to your room."

I blinked in surprise. "My room? I'll be staying here?" The thought hadn't really crossed my mind until now. My mind immediately went to my apartment, the life I had outside of this place. "What about my apartment?"

Hank's smile remained reassuring. "Don't worry, we'll take care of that," he said, his tone calm and confident. "We have people who can manage those details for you. Right now, it's important that you focus on getting better and understanding your abilities."

I nodded, though the idea of leaving my apartment behind, even temporarily, made me feel a little uneasy. My apartment was my sanctuary, a place where I felt in control of my life. The thought of staying here, in this unfamiliar place, was daunting.

But Hank's calm demeanor and the way he spoke made it easier to accept. I had to trust that they knew what they were doing and that, for now, this was where I needed to be.

"Alright," I said finally, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Lead the way."

Hank smiled again and began guiding me through the halls, pointing out different rooms and areas, explaining what each one was for. Despite my initial apprehension, I couldn't help but be a little curious. This place was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, and I knew that, for better or worse, this was going to be my home for a while. As Hank was guiding me through the winding halls, pointing out various rooms and explaining their purposes, we rounded a corner and saw Professor Xavier in what looked like a heated argument with another man. The man was tall, with a stern expression and an intensity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Who's that?" I whispered to Hank, nodding toward the two men.

Hank's expression tightened, and he subtly tried to steer us in a different direction. "It's best if we go this way," he said quietly, clearly hoping to avoid whatever was happening up ahead. But before we could change course, the man caught sight of us. His eyes locked onto me, and without hesitation, he started striding in our direction, his expression a mix of determination and something I couldn't quite place. 

Professor Xavier quickly moved to intercept him, his wheelchair gliding smoothly across the floor. "Wait—please, this isn't the time," the Professor urged, his voice calm but firm as he reached out to stop the man.

But the man ignored him, his focus entirely on me. My heart started to race, a mix of anxiety and curiosity churning inside me. Whoever this guy was, it was clear that he was intent on reaching me, and that made me both nervous and intrigued.

Hank stepped closer to me, his posture protective as the man approached. "Stay behind me," Hank murmured, his voice low.

The tension in the air was thick, and I could feel the weight of whatever was about to happen pressing down on me. I had no idea who this man was or what he wanted, but something told me this encounter was going to be important. The man's gaze remained locked on me, his eyes intense and unyielding. As Professor Xavier moved closer, trying to reason with him, the tension in the air became almost suffocating.

"Move," the man growled at Hank, his voice low and threatening. 

Hank stood his ground, his body tense as he tried to shield me from whatever this man's intentions were. But it was clear that the man wasn't going to be deterred easily. His focus was entirely on me, as if nothing else in the room existed.

Professor Xavier wheeled himself closer, his tone calm but firm. "Please, you need to listen. This isn't the way to handle this."

But the man didn't budge. He didn't even acknowledge the Professor's words, his eyes boring into mine with a mixture of intensity and desperation that made my heart pound in my chest.I felt like I was caught in a standoff, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. My mind raced with questions—who was this man, and why was he so intent on reaching me? What did he want? And why was he looking at me like that?

Hank's voice was calm but edged with warning as he spoke. "You need to back off. Now."

The man's expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he simply took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from mine. Whatever he wanted, it was clear that he wasn't leaving until he got it. Hank, still standing protectively in front of me, spoke in a measured tone. "Charles already spoke to you about her situation. Give her space."

Confusion swirled in my mind. "Why?" I asked, my voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. I needed to understand what was happening and why this man was staring at me like that.

I took a step forward, peering around Hank. "Who are you?" I asked the man directly, my voice firm but laced with uncertainty.

For a moment, the intensity in the man's eyes softened, as if he wanted to say something, to explain himself. There was a flicker of something—regret, sorrow, or perhaps a connection I couldn't quite grasp. But just as quickly, he turned away, the words left unsaid. Without another glance, he walked off, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

I watched him go, my mind racing with questions. Who was he, and why did he look at me like that? And why was Hank so intent on keeping him away from me? The encounter left me more confused than ever, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important I was missing. I turned to Hank, my mind still reeling from the strange encounter. Professor Xavier had already wheeled himself after the man, clearly concerned about the situation. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

"Who was that guy?" I asked, my voice tinged with both curiosity and frustration.

Hank hesitated, glancing briefly in the direction the man had gone before looking back at me. He seemed to weigh his words carefully, as if unsure how to respond. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"That's Logan," he said simply.

Part 14: First Impressions

[lvlyghost]

Salvation II

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: after a few months since his last visit, john finally gets the chance to see the girl.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tw:angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (not really) but just in case, mentions of abduction but nothing too explicit. kate shows up bc we stan🫶🏻 john being a softie 🥹✨💞also not proofread🐸

A/N: omg i can't thank y'all enough for the love the first part got🫰🏻🥰 I hope you like this part as much! Please remember english isn't my first language, corrections are appreciated as usual🩵

Masterlist✨ | Part I | Part III

The soft sound of rain outside the house, lightning and a thunder shake the windows. Carrying two cups of hot cocoa in both hands as she walks where John is waiting for her in the living room. He's scrolling through his phone and immediately puts it down when he sees her. A soft smile makes its way to his lips.

She figured she'd make something warm for them to drink. The rain had come pouring down unexpectedly at the fair, which made them run to John's car to no avail. They were soaking wet by the time they reached the automobile, laughing and enjoying the presence of each other.

"We should take a bath before we get sick."

He had suggested, as soon as she opened the door. John had tried to shield her with his coat and beanie, although it could only do so much. Her teeth were chattering, still never losing that damn smile he had grown fond of.

So here they were now, engulfed in their pajamas ready to get some rest. The stuffed otter was placed on the sofa across from him. She handed John the mug to which he thanked and took a small sip.

"Probably not as good as your Earl Grey but..."

"It's perfect, love. C'mere." He pats the empty spot next to him. She obliges, crossing her legs as she sits. A comfortable silence falls between the two for a moment when the sky rumbles again.

"Doctor said once I'm able to go back to social life I should try to go on a date you know?" She began, shaking her head as if the mere idea was delusional. Her thumb absentmindedly tracing the rim of the mug. "Get to know people. She called it healing." She scoffs. "As if it was that easy."

Taking a sip, John watches as she bites her lip. He can't help it but a strange feeling sets in his gut.

"Is that so crazy, sweetheart?" She turns to him, studying his features with a small frown. "You deserve to be happy. Every single day, you deserve that and much more."

"I... I-" she stutters. "What if they think I'm weird John? I can hardly be myself. What happens when they ask about my life? I'm scared. Every time I close my eyes I'm back in that place..." she glances up to the ceiling, glossy eyes threatening to mimic the pouring rain outside. "I'm never going to be normal. Never going to be whole again...-

"Are you afraid of me?" He interrupts her, forcing her to turn to gaze at him. Swallowing saliva, she meets his bright blue eyes. He's dead serious. The cup long forgotten as he had placed it on the small coffee table. She shook her head.

"You saved me. You've seen what I've been through, and no,..." she stops him when he opens his mouth. "I know you've read the files. You must've in order to know what you were getting yourself into, John. And not just you but your team. And every time you look at me I see it. You were there when I testified... no one knows better than you... nobody knows me better than you." She's choking on her own words when she's finished, tears streaming down her face.

John wastes no time, pulling her into his lap as she hugs him as if her life depends on him.

It probably did.

Sobbing and hiding her face in the crook of his neck she feels the pain, the tension, the agony subside; John holds her small shaking frame against his body. He was often scared to touch her even if it was something so innocent like a hug. Something like this. Even when he wanted nothing more than to be near her. Be the one to shield her from the bad dreams, when the memories of the atrocious life she was forced to endure came to haunt her. He's tracing soft circles on her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

"I could never be afraid of you." She assures him.

-

"Do you know how many people I had to call?" Kate asks him not waiting for a response. Both looking at the girl sitting in the room behind the tinted window. "Twelve."

"I get it Kate." He grumbles. "Thank you. I owe you." He crosses his arms not losing sight of the girl he recently rescued. "I just wish they had given her more time to heal. She's in a bad shape, can't they bloody see?"

"I was thinking the same, but the clock is ticking. We can't afford to lose more time."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's barely gotten any sleep since the mission. She had held his arm the entire ride back. Squeezing with all the strength she had left in her system

"What's gonna happen to her once this is over?"

Kate side eyes John, wondering why he cares so much.

"The NCA will take over from here. Most likely be put under witness protection and given a new identity. Just like the rest of the survivors."

"Hmm." Grunting he takes a step forward.

"John?" She quirks a brow.

"I might just need one last favor."

"Of course." She rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. "This is gonna cost you two tickets for the soccer game next week."

John turns to her.

"You mean the football match?" He politely corrects her.

"I meant what I meant."

"All I remember that morning is I was getting ready for high school. Said goodbye to my grandmother and left. We lived in a complex of apartments with an underground parking lot. She had an old red cavalier that belonged to my grandfather. Last thing I recall is opening the door and then nothing. Just... nothing for years."

-

She feels John standing up from the sofa carrying her body in his strong arms. She doesn't have to look, just know he's taking her to the bedroom. Before he can lay her down on the mattress she gets off of him. Bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. John is about to ask what's wrong. Maybe he made it look like...

She kisses him on the lips. It's quick and it takes him by surprise. Her cheeks flush and eyes go wide, he smiles fondly.

"Do that again." He prompts her.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She asks with pleading eyes.

"For as long as you want me to." She grabs him by the neck and pulls him down to her level.

"It's okay John. Even if I have ghosts I know you'll make them disappear."

That's all he needs to hear. His hands find her waist, all doubt gone. All this time he was terrified that he'd scare her, not wanting to make the first move. John respected her and wanted the girl to feel safe around him. That's why now after hearing those words he lets himself feel her. The soft edges of her delicate skin. Her labored breathing.

He kisses her soft lips, hand coming up to caress her cheek and then, right there he knows she's let all her walls down for him. Letting him in, see all the parts she thought would have to bury for eternity.

He ought to do the same for her. He has his own ghosts. John needed salvation too. Perhaps in a different way.

And if anyone ever dare to try to harm her, taker her away from him...

He'd kill them all.

[scribblesbyb]

Writing Game Week #1: Use These Prompts to Get Back Into Writing!

Rules: Sharing randomly generated prompts every day for a week. Create sth with it in only an hour (time yourself). Don't edit or proofread till the very end. Just. Write. A/N: Doing this to pull myself out of my rut so please join me if you're in a similar boat or if you just wanna hop in for a quick writing sesh. Tagging the beautiful @intotheseas (no pressure, love) Can't think of others who might want to try their hand but feel free to! - 🐝

Prompt 1: You’ve inherited a comb from your mother that has been in your family for countless generations. Every time it is used you are transferred back to a memory of a pivotal moment for a random ancestor. It is the first time you use the comb.

Pant. Pant. Pant.

Your head whirls around, checking if those scary-looking guards are still behind you. Clutching your dress’ tail tighter, knuckles whitening, you continue rushing down the palace halls, waiting for a door to appear. 

What on Earth is this place? Why are there no windows, no doors; nothing but walls? 

The dimly lit hallway seems to stretch on the more you run. Your bare feet keep hitting the rough ceramic, ankles aching at the harsh impact. But you dismiss it. There’s a pit in your tummy just nagging at you to keep, fucking, running. You didn’t know why or from whom, you could only obey.

For a moment, you thought you were safe. You slowed down, trying to calm your breathing down; muffle those distressed pants of yours. A hand on your chest, heartbeat deafening your ears, you looked behind you with frantic eyes, searching the dark for those silver-armored men. 

If they were there, you couldn’t hear the click-clack of their armor or the shuffling of their steel spears over the sound of your heart. If they were there, your tear-stained, panicked eyes wouldn’t be able to make them out anyway. 

Rolling your white dress back into your palms, the voice telling you to stay on your feet comes back to haunt you. You do as told, unable to stay put in this eerie place.

How did you get here? 

The last thing you remember you were somewhere safe. Not here. Nowhere close to here. But you were safe. Alone, happy, and safe. Your brain vaguely remembers the sun setting on the horizon; your body lazily splayed out on a comfortable bed bidding the glowing star goodbye.

Then what?

You stop again. Body doubled over, hands on your knees, you pant into the soft lace fabric of your dress. You glance up for a moment, cursing this damned hallway under your breath. 

The sun.

You tried to refocus your thoughts on remembering that faraway memory. The sun was breathtaking that evening—almost unreal. You recall getting up, moving closer to the sunset, dragging your legs onto the balcony to watch it.

The balcony. Right. Your mother’s comb.

Your mother had given you this weird, vintage comb the last time you visited her. It was a strange Christmas gift to hand a daughter you only saw a few times a year. You took it home regardless, thinking maybe it’d sell for a good buck online. 

But you couldn’t get rid of it. Couldn’t shake the guilty feelings of a stranger having it. Perhaps it was the way your mother talked about this comb when you unwrapped it. The way her eyes gleamed when she spoke of its significance to your long line of great-grandmothers. 

A door!

Your brain halts at the sight of the cracked, red door. You had been slowing down, legs feeling heavy with the weight of your past memories and your present confusion—but now, with an end in sight, your strength is back. It ripples through your muscles, pushing you to run faster than you ever could.

Just a few meters…

Instinctively, your hand reaches for the handle like it’s only a forearm away. You almost stumble, losing balance as you do. You couldn’t fall. Not now. Not when there’s finally a way out. 

It’s right there. C’mon! Move it!

Bump.

You crash into steel and fall onto the harsh ground, barely missing your face as you fall. Angrily, you look up at the rude, rude guard who came out of nowhere. You try to find your voice, to reprimand this towering figure, but all the running has parched your throat. You try to get up, but your legs are jelly, and now that your body has sat down and had some sense of relief, it’s hard to push it to move again.

The masked guard kneels at your feet.  Eyebrows still crossed and breath yet to calm down, you watch his movements with hawk eyes. He presents a bottle from a sack in his armor. It’s a round, glass bottle—which you hoped would be water. But there was no way these monsters were that merciful.

Why are you scared of them again? Why were you running?

As your conscious struggles to make sense of your memories, the guard takes off the bottle’s cap and hands it over. One sniff of its delicious aroma and you’re knocked out. 

Pant. Pant. Pant.

You sit up, frantic, looking about you in a panic. You’re back on the balcony where you were brushing your hair before you passed out. Was it the heat? You picked up the comb, inspecting it. You’ve never passed out before using this thing. But there was just no logical way to explain why a comb could make you pass out and have that—albeit realistic—nightmare.

You tuck the comb back into the box your mother wrapped it in, hiding it away in your dresser’s drawer. You wanted to forget about it. Forget about it all. It was only a nightmare; nothing more.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi :)

first, I wanted to say thank you for your kind hearted replies and informative explanations!

It may sound like a weird question (sorry in advance), but how do you come up with an original idea? I have tried brain-storming with myself a couple times, and it seems like every idea I’m trying to materialize was already published; or the plot I’m building is based loosely on a book I recently read.

I’ll try being more concise - how did you ‘open up’ your mind for new plot lines?

thank you 😊

Coming Up with an Original Idea

What Qualifies as an "Original Idea?"

We have to start by managing our expectations when it comes to originality. As writers, we all want to be "original," but what does that actually mean? We often think it means coming up with an idea that has never been done before in any way, shape, or form, but that's an unrealistic expectation. It's not impossible, just unlikely. That's because there are 130 million books in the world, with millions more added every year. And that's just books... that doesn't even include TV shows, movies, plays, musicals, poetry, songs, video games, board games, comic books, graphic novels, and real life stories. The point is, there are so many stories out there, it's very unlikely that you'll be able to come up with something that shares nothing in common with anything already in existence. But that's okay, because...

Humans Are Creatures of Habit

By and large, humans are creatures of habit. It's why we have friends, it's why we have hobbies, it's why we have routines, it's why we have "comfort shows" and "comfort foods" and why we like visiting the same places and doing the same things over and over again. It's why there can be countless teen vampire romance novels. It's why the MCU is able to exist. It's why we have so many zombie stories and dystopian stories and monster movies. Those things are all popular because of their similarities... because of the tropes and plot elements they share, but also because they find new and interesting ways to use those tropes and plot elements, and that's the key.

Focus on Tweaks, Twists, Surprises, and Subversion

Instead of trying to come up with something that's completely original, look at the stories you love the most. Is there a way you can combine some of those ideas, tweak them, subvert some of the tropes and expectations, put in a few twists and surprises? That's how you come up with something new and original... sure, it shares elements in common with other stories, but what matters is the way you use those ideas is new and different.

How to Open Your Mind for New Ideas

Guide: Filling Your Creative Well will walk you through different ways you can fill your head with ideas. The more sources for ideas in your head, the more places you can pull from, the more opportunities you have to tweak, twist, and subvert those ideas to create something new.

You can also have a look at Diversifying a Story That’s Similar to Existing Story for help with putting a fresh spin on a story (or stories) you want to pull from. It will also help you tweak your existing story or planned story if you're worried it's too similar to the inspiration story or another story you found out about.

Have fun with your story! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[chained-to-the-mirror]

I looked through my notes and apparently last time I sat down to write my thoughts was in February. I had been struggling with my body image and had a nasty nightmare. I’ve not had very nasty nightmares now, but the body image thing is ever present.

I recently bought swimwear for the first time since my early teens. (Let it be noted that I’ll be 43 in a month.) It was inspired by a friend who is coming to visit and wants to go swimming. I was so nervous to even try on a swimsuit… but I did it. I now have two swimsuits/swimwear. I wonder how it will be to actually go out in public wearing them - not easy, probably, but hopefully it will be at least somewhat enjoyable in the end.

Also a new thing is that I’ve been wearing shorts now. It’s almost 30 degrees here and suddenly I’ve noticed I don’t care what others think. I even wore an almost sleeveless top! Who am I?! I think this is due to age, and running out of fucks to give. I mean, does anyone really care what I’m wearing? I don’t think so. I just want to be as comfortable as possible. 

I’m putting my outfit from yesterday here - I would never have been able to wear this a year ago, no matter how hot it got. I’m surprised at myself. Also shocked at how comfortable I was eventually! There was no panicking, no distress. I see all the flaws, but it just matters less and less. I undoubtedly sound like a broken record, but I’m just so surprised.

I don’t think I would be at this point without my dear friends. They keep me sane, truly - and they never seem to get tired of shooting down my negative self talk, which matters more than anyone would guess. I love them all very much.

Another thing that’s helping is plants. I’ve become a full time plant parent, and it feels good to see things growing under my care. I’ve never been able to really do this successfully until now. I’m currently sitting on my balcony, surrounded by my green babies, and I feel calm. It’s no small thing, to feel calm! The plants also help me practice being patient. My huge tomato is testing me - there are so many flowers, but no fruit. Not even beginnings, apart from one that’s smaller than the tip of my pinky. I’m told it takes time, but I just worry. I am doing my best though, and that will have to be enough.

I don’t know where I’m going with all this, except nowhere. I suppose this is my blog, and I can go nowhere as much as I wish. I was going to write something the other day, but when the time came, I found I had no words anymore. Much like now! But I was thinking a lot about my active ED years for some reason. I used to be one of the moderators on a pro ana forum - one of the nice ones, one that helped me keep myself together for a long time. I was close to several people on there - I wonder where they are now? I kept in touch with a couple even after I was discharged from my first hospital stay, but these days I have lost contact with them. I hope they have found their own ways out. We were all sick, and brought together by being alone in our respective sicknesses. 

I kept a journal on the forum - it was full of misery and wallowing, so I’m sort of glad I have no access to it anymore. In fact, I don’t even know what became of the forum after I left. I’ve tried to find it again, but nothing comes up on google at least. It was always a very private, invitation only forum. Everyone supported everyone, in both sickness and recovery (whichever way any of us went at the time). I think I’m - ironically - alive because of those girls. (I say girls, because it was all girls. I think there may have been one boy at one point, but he was not very active.)

It’s such a weird experience, and I can’t really explain it to anyone who hasn’t been a part of a place like that. I tried to explain it to the nurses and the doctors at the hospital, but I don’t think they got it. They saw it as harmful, and probably fairly. In fact, the whole thing made me realize how futile group therapy would be for eating disorders. It can go wrong in so many ways! I’ve only had personal therapy so I can’t be sure of course, but it just feels suspicious. At least for me. I think that you have to be mostly in recovery to really be able to get any help from a group. I think that I might be able to, now - now that I’m mostly recovered. But of course it’s not something that’s available for me anymore. The EDs are not even in my diagnoses - not the main ones anyway. You’d have to dig pretty deep.

I guess this is what I wanted to get out. I’m not proud of my involvement in a thing like the pro ana movement, but I can’t fully bring myself to be sorry either. These things happen for a reason, and the reason was to keep me alive. I’m grateful for that.

It’s time to stop writing. My plants around me are telling me to wrap up the day, and they are right. I only need a shower and then I can fully relax. Thank you to anyone who read this, it’s a mess!

[envihellbender]

Hunt!Sebastian paying John a visit

Characters: Sebastian Moran, John Sims

Verse: The Magnus Archives, TMA AU of Sebastian Moran / Moriarty (MorMor)

[CLICK]

THE ARCHIVIST

[HE SOUNDS A LITTLE SHAKEN, AS IF HE IS PACING UP AND DOWN AS HE IS TALKING.]

I found a tape on my desk. I have checked and double checked with security and with the CCTV coming into the building and everyone coming in or out of the building is accounted for. Was it posted here? It wasn’t in an envelope or anything. Maybe Ma- someone thought they were being helpful. But he- they wouldn’t open my mail, would they? Anyway. Here it is. Statement of Sebastian Moran. Regarding how he met James Moriarty.

[CLICK]

SEBASTIAN MORAN

I found one of your little tape recorders, Archivist, so thought I’d give you something to listen to. You know me. Basher Moran. Moriarty’s Tiger. The most feared sniper in Europe. Prince of London’s Underworld. That one is weird I think, if Moriarty’s the king, that would make me his son? Anyway. Yeah. It’s me, and I hear you’ve been tracking down me and Jimmy, listening to all our victim’s statements and all that. So I thought I’d give you something straight from the tiger’s mouth. There have been quite a few stories about how I met my Jimmy. Urban legends really. Is this one of them or is this a lie just to get under your skin? Only you’ll be able to tell, right Archivist?

Let’s quickly skip through the really boring stuff. Yeah, yeah, son of Augustus Moran and a servant he knocked up in his house in India. He actually had quite a few bastards you know, for some reason he took a shine to me and that’s not the compliment you think it is. He was a faggot, pretended not to be, and whether I killed the fat cunt or not is a little secret you already know the answer to, Archivist. Anyway, I’m the best shot you’ll ever find. Spent most of my teens at a shooting range and didn’t get sped through the army ranks cause of my surname. When your as brown as me and your dad dun’t wanna talk about you a name as common as Moran don’t help. So. I get quietly discharged cause if a nasty event that don’t have anything to do with this story, but you need to picture me as being out Army in my twenties and making a comfortable living selling my services. With a gun, by the way, not my dick sucking lips.

The thing about sniping, is it’s mostly waiting. You set yourself up somewhere high up and out of sight, if you’re good at it you can be low down and no one will find you. Sometimes it’s just you, snacks, drinks, your headphones, and that spare empty bottle you brought to piss in. Audiobooks are great for that. I got through all Chuck Palahniuk’s stories that way. Anyway. Got distracted. So. Most people assume Jimmy hired me, and nah, course he didn’t. He doesn’t do anything like a normal person. First, it was messages in my phone. A text message from a number that didn’t exist and any time I tried to call it instead all I got was a loud screeching noise. The text itself was just a set of coordinates and a time. I decided to ignore it, and five minutes after the deadline, I got left a voicemail without my phone ever had been rung. Weirdest thing about that? It was my voice.

Yeah. Apparently I had rang myself and left a message threatening me about what I would do to my eyeballs if I didn’t pay attention to the next text message. So that was fucking weird. But message received. The next time I got some coordinates I went straight there. First ones led me to a tube station. And when I looked at the train times screen, there was a message for me instead. No one else seemed to see it. But I swear to God it said “Moran. Go to the payphone I’ve marked.” Which is fucking annoying. God damn treasure trail without the treasure. Anyway, so I found it, and clever fuck had written “hi” with a heart drawn on it. Fucking fag. So when I got to it, it started ringing. I answered it and this soft lilting voice was in the other end.

He gave me a job. A good job. With a lot of money. And I said yeah, even though I asked why he didn’t just tell me instead that of playing some stupid game. He giggled and said it was fun. Now I get it. That’s just how he works. When you’re running around anxious and confused he’s feeding off you. That’s just a small way he gets a quick snack. So we went on like this for a while, giving me job after job. I got a bit sick of it, and whilst yeah the Web is really fucking powerful. But. Well, I’m the Hunt. And finding shit is what I do.

So I laid low for a while and between and during jobs I started tracking down my Jimmy. He knew, kept making jokes about how close I was. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t make it to him, maybe he wanted me to, or maybe he didn’t care. Honestly, Jimmy might not even know. Maybe he didn’t think about it. But. Eventually I found myself just outside of this big fancy flat building. One of the types in zone one where the front is fancy as fuck and the back is meeting the quota for affordable housing. I don’t care, if they live in the shithole they can’t pay me. I took the lift up to the top floor. The huge, massive, modern screen door greeted me when I got out. He has a penthouse you see, and the dramatic fuck has a spider web pattern all over it.

I was planning on being subtle, but the moment I got to the top floor, I heard a lilting giggle. I looked up to see a camera pointed directly at me. He didn’t say a word, just ended up with a click to show the door was open. I walked in. His house is pretty great but I’m not gonna tell you shit that might lead you to him. You know what’s funny? I hate spiders. I hate them. I hate them so much of course I noticed their was a lot hanging around my flat since this started. But I didn’t think they had anything to do with Jimmy. His penthouse though? Let’s just say he’s gone all out on the theme.

Anyway. I mostly came here to kill time because gotta shoot one of your librarians. Just some dickhead who stuck his nose where he shouldn’t. By the time you hear this, you might wanna make sure someone goes up to clean up. I knew this would be a great way to distract you. Once the statement started you wouldn’t be able to put it down. Hope you enjoyed my story, mate. There’s plenty more where that came from. My Jimmy? He’ll be in touch.

THE ARCHIVIST

[CLICK. HE SIGHS.]

Statement ends. Carson Throw was found with a very clean gunshot wound through his temples. The bullet was found lodged into a book about spider webs. Hardly subtle. There wasn’t much of a mess. Carson was very wrapped up in jobs for James Moriarty, nothing special just owed him a lot of money from card games and he was slowly trying to work off. It seems Carson tried to get out before his debt had been paid. As for what Moran and Moriarty want with me… Only time will tell.

[CLICK.]

[steelthroat]

I was laying in bed and I felt like something was missing, like the position I was in was wrong, that there was something uncomfortable about it. And then I understood what the problem was; the lack of my cat.

Sunny always sleeps with me, laying on my legs, making it impossible for me to turn or change positions while I'm asleep. She provides warmth and a certain weight that I now feel as something habitual.

Before having this cat, I had no such "troubles," and Sunny is literally one door away from me, so that's good... but that made me reflect on something.

I had a bird, she died months ago, she had her own biological clock that she followed regardless of us humans who lived with her. We always put a "curtain" over her cage so that the light wouldn'tdisturb her... and that also led to us barely turning the lights on or doing so quickly because we were mindful of her comfort.

The bird isn't here anymore, but after a certain hour, it still feels weird turning the lights on and not having to mind about the little bird who's trying to sleep. The lack of the (very big) cage and colorful curtain that draped it make the living room feel different. We don't have to constantly sweep up all the seed husks which she consumed, and there's a lot more silence in our home.

That little bird sang quite a lot, and I used to whistle back at her and even tho I wasn't particularly close to her as I am with my cat now or my old goldfish, it was still our way of acknowledging each other's presence. She sang because that was her nature or because the weather was nice, I sang back because I liked the sound she made and I wanted to participate.

Now that sound doesn't exist anymore and never will again.

And it's bittersweet really, it doesn't make me particularly sad, it's just something that I know will happen again.

One day, a day as far as I hope it'll be, my cat will also die and I will lose that distinct warmth and weight over my legs at night. I won't get to hear her cheerful meowing every time I come back home, I won't get to pet her soft fur, I won't have to remind the fact that I have to give her more food, water, change her litter or brush her.

One day I will lose a lot more than just that, I will lose friends, my parents, people who were more or less close to me. People who left their marks on me, changed my habits, my way of living.

And then those little habits, those little things I did in response to the existence of something or someone will be slowly lost or will change.

As I don't mind keeping the lights on 2 seconds more one day I won't be able to call my parents and ask them how they're doing.

As some of the places from my childhood, the people, the situations don't exist anymore so won't last the the things I'm living/going though as of now.

And that's a weird thing, not inherently bad or good... just weird.

I recently visited a place who carried a lot of trauma, and even though in many years things had changed, the core of the place was the same. But I'd like to think that I am one of the things who changed. Neither that place nor its people have power over me anymore, I went there probably one of the lasts times ever to get my closure and I got it, or probably I'll come back in a few years and see again what changed and what didn't.

And it is weird thinking how everything changes but also some things never really do. Does that make everything meaningless or does this give them even more importance? I genuinely don't know.

But that's something I really don't know if I will get ever used to or understand. But that doesn't matter, does it? I'll just have to live and see for myself what changes and what doesn't, what the things and people I interact with are gonna leave me with going forward.

[let-me-take-your-soul]

You write for FMAB, Right? Do you think if you could squeeze it in somewhere, write something about Al helping Ed with autmail pain? Preferably near the start or before canon, while als still in his armour. Assuming they live in like army barracks as well.

Yeah!! Thank you so much for the request, and the reminder that I will write for lots of different fandoms!! This might have deviated a bit from your original request, but I hope ya still like it!

Alphonse helping Edward through Automail pain

Al helping Ed with automail pains

Edward had always been a bit too ambitious and a bit too trusting of what his automail could handle. It was the bane of Winry's existence knowing that whenever Ed and Al came to visit, there was almost always something she needed to fix. 

"Seriously Ed, you're putting yourself through a whole lot of unnecessary pain when you're being reckless! You need to be more careful!" She scolds him.

"It's no big deal, honestly! I trust you to be able to fix it and I've done this plenty of times before, it doesn't hurt that much anymore," he says, waving off her lecture.

She clicks her tongue and finishes connecting Ed's automail to his nervous system, which causes him to let out a screech of pain.

"Sure. It doesn't hurt," she scoffs. 

He flushes in embarrassment, but doubles down.

"Well of course the first connection to my nervous system hurts! But after that it's fine!"

She rolls her eyes and waves him out of the room.

"Whatever! Just try to take care of yourself. I don't want to keep fixing you whenever you visit."

He stumbles his way out of the room, trying to readjust to his automail and trying to hide the obvious nerve pain from Winry.

She sighs and catches sight of Al waiting for his brother.

"Hey Al! Can I talk with you for a second?" She asks.

His looming figure nods and he clunks his way over to her.

"What did you need, Winry?" He asks, his voice young and unfitting for the armor he's attached to.

"Ed is being stubborn again and his automail is going to be sensitive for awhile until his body readjusts. Will you make sure he takes it easy?"

Al nods.

"Of course! I've gotta look after him somehow!" He says before running off after his brother.

.

.

.

Ed groans as he collapses into bed and Al makes his way into the room as quietly as possible.

"How's it going?" He asks.

"Terrible. I don't want to admit it to Winry, but it hurts like hell right now. Like the area where my arm and leg end and the automail begins is on fire."

Al sits down next to his brother and holds a metal hand up, revealing a bottle of painkillers and a heating pad.

"I know it won't make it all better, but I figured these might help!" 

Ed flashes an exhausted smile at his brother and grabs the pill bottle with his non-automail hand, then points to his leg.

"Will you put that on my leg? That's where the worst of it is right now," Ed says.

Al helps get his brother situated and comfortable before settling on the floor next to him.

"Talk to me about something while these meds kick in okay?" Ed requests.

Al jumps, unsure of what to say.

"Uhhhhh… is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Well, how about when you get your body back? What's the first thing you want to do?"

"Oh gosh, there's so much that I will be able to do, I don't know if I'll be able to come up with one specific thing! Maybe eat? I don't even know what, but I just miss being able to enjoy a good meal," 

"Yeah? Well, when we get you back to your normal self I'll take you wherever you wanna go to eat. If there's a specific chef who's food ya wanna eat, I'll make damn sure they're there to cook for ya!" Ed says.

The two sit for awhile, discussing what they'll do whenever they get their situation figured out.

"You know… I know you're in a lot of pain right now, and maybe this sounds weird, but in a way I kind of miss pain. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to get myself injured when I'm back! I just miss being able to have the full human experience, yknow?" Al explains.

Ed turns to face his brother.

"Yeah, I can understand what you mean. Don't worry, we're going to get you back to normal soon. I'm sure of it!" He says, holding out his fist.

Al gently bumps his own metal fist to his brothers and Ed rolls onto his back.

"Thanks for distracting me. I'm not feeling quite as bad anymore." 

"Oh good! Just let me know if you need anything, okay? It's the least I can do right now."

Ed nods and starts drifting to sleep. Al lays down on the ground, staring quietly at the ceiling and finding quiet ways to entertain himself until his brother wakes up again.

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 25

     It’s about 1:30 in the morning when I stumble my way to one of Ari’s guest rooms. She has a king-sized bed, but I grew tired of feeling squished between Sasha and Ari. Between Sasha’s snoring and Ari’s tossing and turning, there’s no way I’m going to get sleep. I set my phone down on the nightstand and shove the covers aside, flopping down on the bed and snuggling into the pillows. I’m sure the bedding costs a fortune, but it’s worth every penny. It’s like sleeping on a cloud! A big, fluffy, expensive cloud.

     I let out a sigh, making myself comfortable as I burrow under the sheets. It’s not long after I’ve closed my eyes that my phone begins to vibrate. I groan and shift underneath the blankets, reaching out toward the nightstand and feeling around for my phone. Still buried under the bedding, I take a look at my phone screen. Any annoyance that I feel melts away when I see Jake’s name and picture.

     “Hello, handsome.”

     “Hey, beautiful. Did I wake you?”

     I shove the blankets down. “Nope. I’m still awake. What time is it over there?” I adjust the pillows so I can be more comfortable as I lean against the headboard.

     I can hear Jake yawn before he answers. “It’s early. About 7:30.”

     “I’m surprised you’re awake,” I comment.

     “I’ll probably go back to sleep after this. Just wanted to talk to you.”

     I smile fondly. I love it when he shows his sweet side. “It’s good to hear your voice. How’s the jet lag?”

     “Still fighting it. I figure that if I feel up to it, I’ll go to the city and take some pictures today. Did you get the ones I sent you?”

     “I haven’t checked my email yet. I’m sorry. Things have been crazy lately. Maddie made another surprise visit, and she is not happy with the menu ... or with Howard. Between dealing with Maddie and the health inspection that’s coming up, Howard’s been stressed out more than usual. He even flipped out on Santos again. I wish Maddie would fire him already.” I scrunch up my nose, feeling guilty. “And I here I am, whining about work when we’re supposed to talk about your pictures. I’m sorry.”

     Jake chuckles. “It’s okay. Just be sure to check your email when you have the time. Tell me what you think.”

     “So how are things on Etienne’s estate? Any drama yet?”

     “No. Not yet, anyway. I’ve been trying to steer clear of him. When I’m not hiding out in the guest house, I’m walking around the place. I even found a tree that I like to sit under. It’s a great, big one that sits on a hill that overlooks the city. It’s a good place to think.”

     “Sounds beautiful. Wish I could see it with you.”

     “Will you settle for a picture? I sent you one.”

     “Can’t wait to see it.”

     I hear him sigh. “I miss you. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but ...”

     My heart starts to ache. It‘s been four days since Jake boarded the plane with Simone, and I miss him like crazy. “I know what you mean. At least we can do this. And if we can figure out how to video chat, we’ll be able to see each other.”

     “I’ll just have to remember to lock the door, and we’ll be in business,” he says.

     Even though he can’t see me, I still roll my eyes. “Jake!”

     “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. And aren’t you the one who said you wanted to try new things?”

     I’m pretty sure I’m blushing now, and I’m grateful for the fact that I chose to relocate to a more private area of Ari’s home. I would never hear the end of it from my friends if they knew what Jake and I were discussing. I reach out and fiddle with the hem of my shirt. “Well, that’s true. It just ... I don’t know. It would be weird. Impersonal."

     “Well, I don’t now about that. Seems pretty personal to me," he teases.

     “You know what I mean. And besides, I’d rather have you here.” I sigh. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll think about it.”

     “Atta girl.” We pause again, and I can feel my sleepiness kicking in. But I’m not quite ready to end the conversation just yet. “So, what have you been thinking about under that tree?”

     “I don’t know. Random stuff. What I’m going to do while I’m here. How peaceful it is. Life. Us. Have you given any thought to what we talked about?”

     “What? Traveling?” I maneuver so I’m laying on my side, the pillows flat underneath me and my head propped up on my hand.

     “No. The other thing. The one you brought up when Simone wasn’t hovering over us at the airport.”

     I know exactly what he‘s talking about, and I feel some nervousness settle over me. Jake and I had got up to stretch our legs and get away from Simone. At some point during our stroll through the airport, I had made an off-handed comment. I had said that since we were talking about traveling, we should look into moving in together. It was meant to be a joke; my lame way of breaking up the tension brought on by his impending departure. I kicked myself the moment the words fell from my lips and I saw the look on Jake’s face. He wasn’t terrified, exactly. Just ... shocked. I rambled an apology, and we haven’t discussed it since then.

     I cringe a bit, thinking he‘s going to give me the ”Lilah, you know I love you. But I‘m not ready to live with you,” speech. “Ah! ‘The other thing.’ You mean the ‘moving in together’ thing. That thing?”

     Jake chuckles at my wording, and then grows serious. “So, what do you think?”

     My eyes widen in shock, and I move back into a sitting position. Now I’m wide awake, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to sleep. I run a hand through my hair and let out the breath I haven’t realized I’ve been holding in. “Well, I don’t know. I mean, when I brought it up I was just making a joke. I thought it freaked you out.”

     “It startled me. I mean, it was kind of random. But ... I don’t know. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.”

     “You’ve really been thinking about it?”

     Funny. All this time, I’ve been worried about Jake freaking out if I bring up anything having to do with our future. Now I’m the one who’s a little spooked. It’s one thing to spend a few nights and mornings together. But every night? Every morning? Are we ready for such a thing? Even if we are ready, we still have one major hurdle to deal with: Simone. If Jake and I decide to move in together, will she say something to try to change his mind? I mean, she did manipulate him into backing out of his business plans with Scott. Would she pull the same stunt with us?

     “Yeah. I have. We’re in a good place. Aren’t we?”

     I smile to myself. “Yeah. We are. We’re in a great place, actually.” I start to feel some of my unease lift off of my shoulders, now that I know this topic hasn’t sent him running for the hills. “And when you think about it, you’ve practically moved into my place already. I mean, you spend more nights there than you do at your apartment.”

     “What makes you think I’d be moving into your place? Maybe I don’t want to give up my bachleor pad,” he jokes.

     “Can you imagine me living there full-time? I mean, your place is great. But where would I put my stuff? You know me. I gotta have my books! I’d go crazy without them. You’d kick me out within a week.”

     I hear knocking in the background, followed by Jake telling me to hang on for a minute. He and Simone have a brief conversation, and I can hear her say to him “Tell her I said ‘Hello’,” before she apparently leaves.

     Jake is back on the phone a little while later, letting out a tired sigh. “I gotta go. But I promise I’ll call you as soon as possible. Or you can call me. And remember: check your email.”

     “I will. I love you.”

     “I love you back,” he says, just before he hangs up on me.

     It’s Sunday ... which, technically, is my Monday. I show up for work a little tired, but ready to face the day. After getting dressed, I see that I have some time to kill before Family Dinner. And so, eager to find out if Jake has sent me another email with some pictures attached, I sit down on the sofa. I’m in the middle of searching through my emails when I hear Will’s voice.

     “Still obsessed with your phone, I see. You realize he’s probably sleeping?”

     I look up at him and smirk. “You know me too well. What are you doing in here, anyway? I mean, you have your own office. Not to mention you don’t have to get ready here anymore.” I grin at him. “Don’t tell me you miss the locker room.”

     “Okay. First of all, I wouldn’t call that tiny shoebox of a room an office. And maybe I just wanted to talk to you. See how you’re doing.”

     “I’m fine, Will. I mean, I miss Jake. But I’m okay. He was supposed to go sight-seeing yesterday, and the pictures he’s already sent me are amazing. I’ll show them to you sometime. I have them saved on my computer, and I still have the emails.”

     “I take it you’re a fan,” Will quips.

     “The biggest,” I remark. Things become quiet for a while. I need someone to talk to, and Will is the logical choice. “He wants us to move in together,” I blurt out. Looking over at my friend, I see the surprised expression on his face. “I know. Imagine my shock when he told me that.”

     “I mean, you two have been together for a while.”

     I nod. “Almost six months.”

     ”Longer than I thought you‘d make it.” I give Will an annoyed look. ”Sorry. Habit.” There‘s another pause, and then he asks “Well, what do you think about it? Is this something you want to do?”

     I think for a moment. “Well, we do spend almost every night together. We’re practically living together already. We’d just be making it official.”

     “How would it work out? I mean, would he move into your place?”

     I shrug. “I don’t know. We were in the middle of discussing it when Simone interrupted us. One thing’s for certain: I can’t move into his place. It’s so small.” I look down at my hands, fidgeting. “Speaking of Simone: she’s kind of a hurdle.”

     Will furrows his brows in confusion. “How so?”

     “I’ve seen how she can be with Jake. She’s ... manipulative. I can’t go into details, but she managed to talk him out of some pretty big plans he made a while ago. She just ... has this way of twisting things. And I’m worried that if she finds out that Jake and I are planning on living together, she’ll interfere. And if she does that, there’s a chance Jake will back out. I feel like I’m on thin ice with her already. I mean, she already tried to come between us before. The things she said to me, Will ... She got to me.”

     “Did Jake find out?” I nod. “And what did he do?”

     “He stood up to her. Told her to mind her own business.” I look at Will, who gives me a small smile.

     “He’s already fought for you once. What makes you think he wouldn’t do it again?” I shrug, and he continues. “Lilah, think about it. For starters, you two have been together for nearly six months. I have never seen Jake stay with someone this long. But he has, with you. That means he sees something in you that he’s never seen in anyone else. It means he trusts you. Loves you. And you said that Simone tried to come between you. Well, guess what? He didn’t let her. He fought for you; for what you have. And now, he wants to live with you. If none of these things tell you that he’s committed to you, then you’re blind.”

     I take this all in. It makes sense. “So what do you think, Will? Give me some advice.”

     “I think that if this is what you and Jake really want to do, and if you feel you’re ready ... go for it. And don’t let Simone stop you.”

     I give him a playful nudge. “Sounds like you’ve become a fan of Jake, too ... Wilbur.”

     He nudges me back. “Stop calling me that ... Delilah.”

     I cringe. “Ooh. Ouch! You win.”

     Will gets up from the sofa and straightens his suit, smoothing it down a bit. “Now, let’s get out of here. We’ll miss Family Dinner.”

     “I’ll be there in a little bit. I just have something to take care of.” He nods and then leaves, and I let out a weary sigh. After taking a little more time to think, I send Jake a brief email and hope he reads it soon.

     Hey, Jake. I’ve thought about what we discussed. My answer is ... yes. Let’s go for it. We can hash out the details when you get back.

     I love you. Can’t wait to see more pictures.

     - Lilah        I send the email without hesitation and get up, slipping the phone into the pocket of my slacks. Any fear I had seems to have disappeared, having been replaced by exhilaration. Distracted and in a hurry, I end up bumping into someone as I make my way toward the door. We both let out a little “Oof!” and I stumble back a bit, startled when someone I’ve never seen before reaches out to steady me.

     “Whoa! You okay? You all right?”

     I look up at the stranger, a good-looking man with hazel eyes and a bright smile. “Umm ... Yeah! I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I was distracted, and I wasn’t watching where I was going. You okay?”

     “I’m fine.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Cody. Cody Brooks,” he adds.

     We shake hands as I respond “Hi, Cody. I’m Lilah Kincaid. You’re new here, obviously. Are you the new server?”

     “No. Actually, I’m the new bartender. Temporary one, at least.”

     “Oh! I take it you’re filling in for Jake.”

     He nods. “I guess so.”

     “What happened to Sam? I mean, I was under the impression that he’d be covering Jake’s shifts.”

     Cody shrugs. “I have no idea. I’m just glad to have the job, even though it’s only temporary.”

     I give him a friendly smile. “Welcome to the team, Cody. Be sure to join us for Family Dinner. We meet in the dining room.”

     “Will do. Good to meet you.”

     “You, too,” I say as I walk out the door.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[floatingonalowvibe]

chapter six, part two

The north pole. always bright, colorful, and full of energy.

the sleigh was being lowered into the stalls, and the smell of the workshop filled my nose. a smile grew on my face.

once we hit the floor, I was dashing out of the sleigh, bouncing up and down like an exited child.

I could hear the chatter of the elves as they worked, the sounds of hammers and drills whirring away.

I was walking through the entrance of the workshop, taking in the sights, it has been forever since I was here last, but it felt the same, the comforting smells and sounds filled my senses. A few familiar faces popped out at me, a few old friends.

“m/n!!”

The voice stopped my viewing of the workshop, as I turned my head to see who it was. The exited voice I heard belonged to none other than Judy, the one and only.

I quickly did a little gay boy run over to her, engulfing her into a hug.

She returned it with just as much energy as I put into mine, and maybe even putting in more.

“Oh my god.... it's been so long!!” I said, releasing the hug but holding her shoulders.

“It has, too long even!” she responded. We brought each other into another hug,

“Well, I hope you guys get to make up for lost time while m/n stays here." dad spoke from behind us, " I've got to go check on a few things, you and Judy go find Bernard, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you ." he finished with a wink, he was off, probably to his office.

Judy grabbed my hand, leading me towards where I believe to be the bakery. she walked with such a hurry, making me suspect she had to tell me something.

we entered the bakery, the smell and warmth filling my senses. the elves just got done with a batch of something cinnamon flavored, as the smell was strong.

"what do you need to tell me?" I asked as we stepped in her office, me closing the door behind her.

she turned around, a smile growing on her face. It was a mischievous smile, like she had a big silly secret to tell me.

"Ok but first I wanna tell you to not act weird when I tell you this, and don't tell anyone you heard this from me, ok?" she said.

I was more intrigued than ever at this moment, wanting to know what she had to say so bad. was it elf drama? was it something about my dad?

"well, spill the beans!" I said, moving closer to her, anticipation raising in me.

" well, " she started " Bernard has been going absolutely bonkers about you visiting, like he wont stop talking about you to me on our breaks! "

I felt my cheeks begin to redden at the thought of him talking about me, and even so him being exited to see me. a small weak smile started to form on my face, soon taking over it.

"Oh my snowflakes are you blushing??!!" I heard her exclaim.

I stopped all movement for a second, and I realised, I really was blushing. I was blushing over Bernard. Him.

I started stuttering, mentlally cursing myself for not being able to form words.

"hey, it's ok, he just been really stressed, and I bet you're the thing that's going to bring him out of his gloomy mood." she said, her voice soft and mother-like.

I nodded, not wanting to say anything.

Why in the world did I react that way? why did my face feel that hot? why couldn't I speak? why does the thought of Bernard, of all people, missing me make my head spin? do I like him?

No, I know I don't. Ive already told myself that having that type of relationship with Bernard is off the table, and besides, he's an elf! who's who knows how old! and I'm just an average 19 year old boy, freshly dropped out of college and always high. he would never lower his standards to be with someone like me.

a/n: so the new posting schedule will be about every 1-2 weeks. I am going to be starting another story (Eddie munson) soon so I might hyperfocus on that for a while and forget about this one for a few days. anyways drink some water.

[properantagonist]

Nocturne

My neighbour is playing again.

Not that it would ever pose an issue – for me it never has. His skills are exceptional. He has this unusual sense of rhythm, he dances around with his fingers in a very special way. He slows down the tempo, then picks up the pace, building up tension. Sometimes it seems as if he can control the time itself. His taste is very interesting, too. He tends to gravitate towards the oldies, picks those most atmospheric and deep, in which you can lose yourself.

He has a tendency to play at unusual hours. He enjoys Johann Sebastian in the morning, Satie in the afternoon, evening on the other hand, those are reserved for the master Frederick Chopin. Some of the pieces I do not know personally, but I can bet those too bear a great meaning to him.

He goes on for hours. I sit in my chair, I pull out a book, coffee on the table beside me, I change my position a few times before I'm comfortable. Sometimes I'll decide to check out the toilet before I proceed, maybe I'll change the lamp to a smaller one. I start reading, and only then does he start playing. As if he knew. And then I'll catch3 myself having sat in one place for three hours straight, coffee cold, book on the floor. Sometimes there is no book at all. I lose books while sitting in an armchair. The echo from his playing resonates in the hallway, but I can hear him best through the living room wall. He lives next door, one of his rooms being adjacent to mine. Together, they create this U shape around the staircase. You know, back in the day our flats used to be connected. There was a doorway precisely where I like to place my armchair. I once discovered a piece of empty wall while moving furniture. I have no idea when they sealed that passage. It was surely long before I ever came here.

His piano stands somewhere further from the wall in question. The layers upon layers of thin wall create this very specific kind of reverberation, which, surprisingly, pairs up perfectly with the rain. I have always had a feeling that he deliberately plays in rhythm with the rain. When it slows, he slows, when it speeds, he does so too, mirroring it in this most bizarre symphony of mutual understanding.

I've never actually met the neighbour. We know each other solely from the sounds we share though our walls. I've always thought of him as a loner. He wouldn't work, or at least he wouldn't work outside his home, since he picked the most peculiar times to treat me with his repertoire. Sometimes I can hear his footsteps, most rarely his voice. He murmurs and whispers, that does happen. Though, I have never actually heard his full voice. His steps are light, quiet, rhythmical. He wears his shoes indoors, which I've always considered weird, but they do sound like good quality leather shoes, from which I deducted he simply likes to keep up a fine appearance.

It is indeed bizarre what kind of a bond I have formed with my neighbour. Sometimes I get a feeling of understanding between us, that I can feel his emotions conveyed in his music. It's an extraordinary experience to be able to know a man just based off of his steps and his music alone. With each passing day it seems to me that I know him better, even though I haven't met him. And surely, I can communicate with him better than with any of the other block's tenants. The neighbour doesn't stir up any trouble, I try to never cause any for him. We respect each other's presence and space in which we live. It's a very pleasant relationship.

Lately, I've been wondering if I should maybe give him a visit. If I should, maybe, have a peek into his life, just as an act of neighbourly curiosity. So, that one time I stepped out of my flat right when he started his playing session and the sound was carried all throughout our old staircase. Feeling rather self-assured, I placed my hand in a knocking position right over his door and then...

"Oi, sir! What ya doing? There's no one living 'ere" I heard a voice.

I turned around to see the face of an upstairs neighbour. I see him maybe twice a week, but we always greet at sight.

"N-nobody?" I continued, slightly startled.

"The bloke died, methinks. But who knows, that's what I've 'eard. But since then, nobody lives in there."

The music stopped somewhere between our words. I haven't even noticed when.

I came back to my own flat, I sat down to read. The neighbour is playing again. He's playing with the rain. A Chopin nocturne? How so, it's the morning...

[carnivalgore]

Nocturne - 10.05.2020

My neighbour is playing again.

Not that it would ever pose an issue – for me it never has. His skills are exceptional. He has this unusual sense of rhythm, he dances around with his fingers in a very special way. He slows down the tempo, then picks up the pace, building up tension. Sometimes it seems as if he can control the time itself. His taste is very interesting, too. He tends to gravitate towards the oldies, picks those most atmospheric and deep, in which you can lose yourself.

He has a tendency to play at unusual hours. He enjoys Johann Sebastian in the morning, Satie in the afternoon, evenings on the other hand, those are reserved for the master Frederick Chopin. Some of the pieces I do not know personally, but I can bet those too bear a great meaning to him.

He goes on for hours. I sit in my chair, I pull out a book, coffee on the table beside me, I change my position a few times before I'm comfortable. Sometimes I'll decide to check out the toilet before I proceed, maybe I'll change the lamp to a smaller one. I start reading, and only then does he start playing. As if he knew. And then I'll catch myself having sat in one place for three hours straight, coffee cold, book on the floor. Sometimes there is no book at all. I lose books while sitting in an armchair. The echo from his playing resonates in the hallway, but I can hear him best through the living room wall. He lives next door, one of his rooms being adjacent to mine. Together, they create this U shape around the staircase. You know, back in the day our flats used to be connected. There was a doorway precisely where I like to place my armchair. I once discovered a piece of empty wall while moving furniture. I have no idea when they sealed that passage. It was surely long before I ever came here.

His piano stands somewhere further from the wall in question. The layers upon layers of thin wall create this very specific kind of reverberation, which, surprisingly, pairs up perfectly with the rain. I have always had a feeling that he deliberately plays in rhythm with the rain. When it slows, he slows, when it speeds, he does so too, mirroring it in this most bizarre symphony of mutual understanding.

I've never actually met the neighbour. We know each other solely from the sounds we share though our walls. I've always thought of him as a loner. He wouldn't work, or at least he wouldn't work outside his home, since he picked the most peculiar times to treat me with his repertoire. Sometimes I can hear his footsteps, most rarely his voice. He murmurs and whispers, that does happen. Though, I have never actually heard his full voice. His steps are light, quiet, rhythmical. He wears his shoes indoors, which I've always considered weird, but they do sound like good quality leather shoes, from which I deducted he simply likes to keep up a fine appearance.

It is indeed bizarre what kind of a bond I have formed with my neighbour. Sometimes I get a feeling of understanding between us, that I can feel his emotions conveyed in his music. It's an extraordinary experience to be able to know a man just based off of his steps and his music alone. With each passing day it seems to me that I know him better, even though I haven't met him. And surely, I can communicate with him better than with any of the other block's tenants. The neighbour doesn't stir up any trouble, I try to never cause any for him. We respect each other's presence and space in which we live. It's a very pleasant relationship.

Lately, I've been wondering if I should maybe give him a visit. If I should, maybe, have a peek into his life, just as an act of neighbourly curiosity. So, that one time I stepped out of my flat right when he started his playing session and the sound was carried all throughout our old staircase. Feeling rather self-assured, I placed my hand in a knocking position right over his door and then...

"Oi, sir! What ya doing? There's no one living 'ere" I heard a voice.

I turned around to see the face of an upstairs neighbour. I see him maybe twice a week, but we always greet at sight.

"N-nobody?" I continued, slightly startled.

"The bloke died, methinks. But who knows, that's what I've 'eard. But since then, nobody lives in there."

The music stopped somewhere between our words. I haven't even noticed when.

I came back to my own flat, I sat down to read. The neighbour is playing again. He's playing with the rain. A Chopin nocturne? How so, it's the morning...

~

Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash

author: carnivalgore @ Tumblr

mozguanihilacja @ WordPress Mouldy Oranges

(CC) BY-NC-ND 3.0 © When sharing, copy this tag.

original language: Polish

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 277,

Last night’s Catacomb nightmare was much like the one before.  Shifting, nearly organic stone tunnels funneling me ever downward.  One key difference stuck out though.  For the first time that I can remember, I went a significant distance without the ubiquitous funerary inserts into the walls.  They came back eventually, but there’s something chilling about having not even the dead for company down there.  An implication that I’m getting away from human influence and closer to something else.  Although what that something might be I can’t imagine.  Or perhaps fear to imagine.

I really ought to talk to Pat about this, but I have cleaning and laundry that I’ve been putting off and need to take care of while I’m still here at the house, since with the equinox tomorrow, and Lin returning the day after, and classes starting the day after that, I might not be back for a bit.  Then I probably ought to get a post-nightmare trip to Siren Overlook in to clear my head before tomorrow night’s telling.

Maybe if I spend less time writing and more time doing, I’ll be able to work fast and get it all done.

*******

Well, I didn’t manage to talk to Pat.  Leaving the laundry hanging to dry over the bathtub rather than putting them up outside and waiting for them to dry enough to put away before leaving meant I got into the Village with plenty of time to spare before sundown, but once I arrived I wound up running into one of Cass’s brothers, Hektor on the street.  As it turns out, the whole family was in town, setting up a stall for tomorrow and helping with the decorations.  Seeing a chance to perhaps mend some bridges, I wound up volunteering to help with that.  

So, that was my whole afternoon, but I wouldn’t say I regret it.  I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed being around them for the rides into and out of town around market days or invitations to join them for dinner and Norman and Marva’s.  I rarely write about those casual interactions with the family, because they tend to feel so comfortably ordinary, but comfortably ordinary is a precious thing to have.

The only bit of awkwardness was Cass and I trying to act like we hadn’t seen one another for a month.  I’m not sure if that was made better or worse by Antigone whispering “I know” as she handed me a bundle of ribbons to hang up and then walking off wearing the same smug grin I’ve seen on her daughter so many times.

Beyond the interactions with the family, just being out and about in the Village and taking part in the communal preparations turned out to be as much a mental balm as a visit to the overlook would have been.  I’ve said before that I’m not really sure how to be a part of a community, and I’m still not, but I think this might have been a step in that direction.  I had a moment where it suddenly registered that most of the people I found myself talking to or even just passing by throughout the day I found familiar despite not interacting with them directly on a regular basis.  Some of them, I even remembered their names.  That probably doesn’t sound like much, but for me… well… the moment passed when Cass asked me why I had suddenly stopped and seemed to be tearing up.

I told her I’d just had “a weird thought, but a happy one.”  She raised her eyebrows at that but didn’t push.  Just called me “weirdo” in that tone reserved for ironic insults directed at friends and siblings that are actually terms of endearment and nudged me to get back to work.

On top of all that, Vernon put in an appearance, tracking me down to ask if I wanted to be a “shade” again this time around.  Said he’d meant to ask sooner but been caught up in other preparations.  I appreciated the offer but turned it down.  As much as I enjoyed it last time around, I’d like to see the morning festivities from the other side of the cloth, so to speak.

Oh, also, at some point someone finally reminded me that school starts the second market day after the equinox, not the first.  Not sure how I got that mixed up, but it’s a relief to have more time to prepare.

<==Previous          Next==>

[surveysandthings]

2.

How many countries have you visited? Two!

Flowers or chocolate? ....both is good.

My first mobile phone was... A pink and silver Samsung flip phone. I had a rainbow bubblegum wallpaper and a pink panther ringtone. I was the shit and I knew it.

The life advice I wish I could give my younger self is... I just wish I could have mothered her better. She struggles so much later in life because no one took care of her in that way.

A job I'd be terrible at... Anything high powered and fast paced. I’m too sensitive for that shit.

The superpower I want most is... I would love to be able to shapeshift!

When I retire, I'd like to move to... I don’t know what I’ll want when I’m that age!

Does pineapple belong on pizza? I think that whatever you think belongs on pizza, belongs there.

A flaw I have is... I’m so goddamn hard on myself.

Between the morning and the night, I prefer... Definitely early morning!

The best thing about the internet is... There's good in the bad and bad in the good. While its super cool to be able to connect with literally everyone on the planet...you’re open and exposed to literally everybody in the world all the time. While it’s full of inspiration and artwork...you feel the pressure to constantly be creating and comparing the quality/pace of your art to everyone else’s. While you have instant access to answers to literally any question you could have...I don’t know if we were meant to have that. You know?

Something I find boring is... Politics. Sports. Action movies.

What's a goal you have in life? I just want to be happy.

Between the city and the country, I always pick... I like smaller cities. Still stuff to do but there isn’t as much traffic or crime.

My comfort food is... Definitely soup. I’m a soup girl.

The video game I've played the most is... Definitely Sims.

One of my favorite stores is... I’ve really been digging TJ Maxx lately!

The best photo of my pet is... Like she’s ever taken a bad picture in her life.

A moment I enjoy during the day is.... When my husband gets home from work!

The music genre I listen to the most is... I like a good mix!

The vegetable I hate the most is... Definitely cauliflower. That shit is NASTY.

I deserve the award for... I don’t know if I’ve done anything worth an award..

Do you have any weird relatives? All of my relatives are weird. In-laws included!

Which do you prefer for exercising, gym or outdoors? Ew, none.

The language I love the most is... I can’t say I’ve ever felt feelings of love towards a language.

If I were a dessert I would be a... Ice cream cone.

The most memorable costume I've worn is... I don’t know!

The best thing about family is... There isn’t much I love about my family, to be honest. I’d trade them in a heartbeat.

My favorite routine is... I’ve been prioritizing keeping the house really neat lately so I love waking up in the morning, getting myself up and dressed, making the bed, and then getting everything neat and put away.

A song that defines me is... Lonely by Akon.

If I were a musical instrument, I would be... That really weird sounding Australian instrument that makes that warble-y sound.

I get overexcited when... I don’t know if I get overexcited. I’m not a kid anymore.

Between texting and calling, I prefer... It depends on the person but if it’s someone I like, I prefer a good chat on the phone/FaceTime. 

A perfect date would be... I love a good breakfast date, followed by garage sailing in the summer or thrifting in the winter!

When I start reading a book and get bored on the second page I... I really don't read!

My favorite amusement park is... I don’t really like amusement parks, tbh!

I wish... I had a mom who actually loved me.

A great honeymoon would be... A tropical vacay, definitely.

My first crush was when I was... 4! I've been boy crazy from the get go.

My first computer was a... Very shitty HP laptop.

For me, freedom means... Not having to answer to anybody.

I would like to travel to... I really wanna go to Colorado for some reason.

A friend I have the most fun with is... My husband!

If I could meet any figure from the past, present or future, I would meet... PRINCESS DIANA. I want all the tea.

What's scarier, clowns or spiders? Spiders. Clowns can’t bite and poison you.

If I had a million dollars, I would spend it on... I’d buy a little house, pay off our cars, and then put the rest into a high interest savings account so we'd never have to work again.

If I could be anywhere else right now, I'd be... I’m good where I'm at thanks!

I learned how to swim when I was... I don’t think I’ve ever learned how to properly swim. I took swimming lessons when I was very young and the teacher forced my head underwater and yelled at me for being upset so I avoided them forever after that.