(OPEN WRITING COMMISSIONS) (DM me for details) I make stuff for no reason and I love writing! Writer of Taylor and Maddie! Main Project: Just Let Me Be The Grand Duchess (on Ao3, Wattpad, and Scribblehub) I also do random fanfics cause why the frack not?
I struggle with writing without giving names so I ended up naming her Lady Blanc (cause Blank)
This was originally made and published for Zetigenossen an r1999 fan zine a couple months back. So if you haven’t seen it go check it out on their twitter because there are plenty of just as if not more talented writers and artists there as well.
Link below if u wanna read it
Tennant’s brain fizzled, to be called by her first name, she didn't recall ever giving it to the lady.
Aha.
She'd been utterly played,
“You really are one cruel mistress.” Tennant smiled and continued their dance. “I am deeply regretful for any wrong I’ve committed to such a beautiful lady.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
After so long it's finally finished Jesus Christ. I'm so sorry to the ones who waited but here it is. I have plans for two to three more episodes before the second season ends. After that I plan to write about somn new, if u have suggestions feel free to ask in the DMs (it doesn't necessarily have to be Hoyo).
Its a cute simple story that I made for their birthday. I tried writing without giving a name to the FML but its so hard so I just made up one and told them to self insert. As per their request, its a GL fic so all those het lovers are unfortunately not the star of the show this time (lol).
Here’s the link if you’re interested:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/68702356
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I wanted to tell something even the slightest bit meaningful so---
(Official art from Reverse1999)
There was an odd story I heard from a friend of mine. It was fairly personal so I don't wanna go over the details but I found it interesting enough and since being granted their permission, I’ve taken my time to write a short excerpt as to what I was told.
When I first listened to what they were saying I honestly didn't believe it. To me, it was kind of absurd? In a way?
It's definitely plausible but—I don't know—there was something off about it.
To start with, I would like to say that my friend, at this point in their life, was very depressed and was quite heavily distant from everyone. They would often scurry away when our friend grew hung out or you would just casually see them sitting alone with a frown on their face. A few times I had approached to ask if there was anything going on and well—I would just be given a smile and a nod and a weak voice that said “everything’s fine!”.
I was certainly worried but if they weren't comfortable opening up to me then I didn't want to intrude. So I decided to just be there next to them whenever I could. Like—when the group would eat, I would sit next to them and chat them up—also serving as a way for me to check up on them. At some point, we got closer and started talking more in private—in messages as well. They were very different online than they are offline. They were more active and present and less…reserved.
I would listen to their stories and their venting and a lot of very grim jokes and more of the things they had to say. It was fun, we got to talk and I could get a glimpse of a part of them that I never really saw before. It was like we had our own space to just hangout, just the two of us. I never really thought much beyond that.
What startled me was, while I was out on a friendly date with two of my friends, I got a message from them, asking to talk later tonight. There is an unsettling undertone that you feel when you're just sent:
“I need to talk to you tonight.”
With a period as well. Something they never do unless of course it's serious. For the meantime, I was occupied with other people so I had to forgo the message. I forgot to reply but back then I wasn't really bothered as much as I should've been.
When I got home almost midnight I was too tired and when I received another message from them that read: “Are you free?”
My body was far too fatigued and I simply replied with:
“Just got home and very tired, Tomorrow?”
There was no reply.
I chalked it up to a minor annoyance and figured, I’ll just make it up to them the next day. I had completely forgotten the serious mood set up by their earlier text, maybe because I was too preoccupied with my body pain from all the walking, or maybe I was just way too sleepy. I didn't know, I would come to regret not talking to them that night.
A few days later I found out they tried to jump off a roof, a couple stories tall, at the top of an apartment.
When they told me that they sent that message at the edge of the roof. Waiting for me to respond for one final conversation and—well—I didn't…
I broke down. I fell to my knees in front of them and my hands clawed to their pants, holding tight, afraid that if I didn't they’d find themselves up there again, or worse—falling down from it.
I was in tears and in shock, regret and guilt welled up from inside my throat and they only stared back at me with a face I couldn't read.
All the words that came out of my mouth were apologies but I was afraid that in another universe I would be telling this to their coffin and not them in person. The thought sickened and horrified me.
But—that’s not the point of this story. That's not really why I wanted to share this nor why they allowed me to. It's because I wanted to talk about what stopped them from jumping and falling to their death.
They told me that their parents had been fighting for ages now. They told me how their mom and dad would get into heated arguments and as a way to lash out pent up anger, their mother would often come into their room and beat them. They never really understood why their mother did those things and why their father never stepped in—but they hated it. They hated them. And as much as our little nightly conversations helped them cope, that night was just far too much. Apparently, their mother had an awful fight with their father that made him pack up his stuff and leave the house screaming. They felt dread as they heard their mother's stomping to their room and opening the door. They told me how they still felt every hit that night, how much worse it felt compared to every night before. How their mother made sure to not hit their face so it wouldn't be obvious. It was horrible hearing the details, I can't imagine being the person having to tell them.
So that night, they ran away through their window and went into any building they could. Somehow (they didn't really explain how) they got into an apartment and they ran up the stairs…all the way to the roof.
There they walked to the edge and sat there and sent me the first message that I received. Then they waited. They waited and waited until they saw me go online once more and decided to remind me. They stood on the edge and were ready to give me one last call—but it never happened. They told me how they cried, how they cried and cried when I told them I couldn't.
Then after a few seconds of deliberation they breathed in, their vision completely blurring out the distance between her and the ground, the air feeling lighter, and the balance in their knees about to buckle.
In one more step they would be right over the edge.
Then a voice called out. It was a man but their face was blurry, he wore a gray suit and gray pants with suspenders holding his undershirt tight. He also wore one of those fancy gray hats that you would imagine Frank Sinatra to wear. His voice was apparently very deep yet relaxing. He didn't come close to her nor did he walk away, he simply leaned on the air vents or whatever those things were on top of the building that popped out of the floor.
They told me how the man's face was always hidden, almost impossible to observe. His hands were also hidden away by a glove and his hair seemed to change color here and there.
“Hello,” He said, “What are you up to, Young Miss?” His voice according to them wasn't how you expect a man of this age to sound. It was like they came straight from an old TV. Something akin to those with antennas sticking out of the top.
“It's a lovely night isn't it?” He asked them, their head glancing down to their feet, “Are you gonna fly away?”
The question was absurd. It sounded idiotic. I mean—if someone was about to jump off a building in front of you, that's a less than silly thing to ask.
“I assume your wing’s been chipped and your feathers torn but you're still willing to fly?” He asked them again, their questions proving more and more nonsensical.
They then reprimanded him and scowled saying: “Shut up and leave me alone! I don't care anymore!”
The man apparently just shrugged. “Jumping down won't help you fly, you know? Not unless you get your wings fixed.”
“I am not gonna fly!” They screamed at him but the man didn't seem to be taken aback.
“I know. I’m sorry.” The man popped out a cigarette and looked away.
“Why are you even here?” My friend asked.
“There's many people like you, many who wish to jump off, hang, or just whatever they can before they go say goodbye.” He answered with terrifying clarity, “I stay beside them. I witness their final moments…sometimes that’s all I could do—watch.” He pressed the cigarette to his lips, “other times I get to talk to them, like how I am now with you?”
“So you're not gonna stop me?” My friend asked again.
“Should I?” He turned to her, his face still nothing but a blur, “If a bird wants to fly, should I stop it?”
“I’m not a bird.”
“Exactly.” He puffed out some smoke out of his lips. “You’re not a bird, you're neither caged nor free. You're just you.”
“You confuse me.”
“Maybe, I do. It's hard to think when death is looking right at you, you know?” He shrugged and turned to her again, “If you want to jump then I can't stop you—I just hope whatever’s down there makes everything worth it.”
“Is there even any point to what's up here!?” They said, feeling tears come up again and their fists tighten up. “If everything up here is just misery, why am I still here?!”
He sighed and looked away. “You're scared?”
“Of course, I am!” My friend fell to their knees by the ledge, “I don't want to do this but this is the only way I know how to! This way I could feel like I’m still in control, that my decisions matter and I’m not just some nobody!”
My friend broke down. “I hate everything! I don't know what I’m supposed to do now that I am all alone!”
The man finally walked over to them and patted her head. “Then…before you go,” His face was shadowed by his hat but they could see his gentle smile, “I hope you know tomorrow’s a new day.”
“What?”
“It's all hopeless today isn't it?” He sat beside them, his feet hanging off of the ledge, “then maybe tomorrow’s different, maybe we can make it different?
They apparently said nothing and only stared at the guy.
“If what's down there seems like the answer, I don't wanna stop you from getting it.” He raised his hand and offered it to her, “if you want to truly stop looking for other options then—are you prepared to say goodbye to tomorrow?”
That was the moment my friend paused. They told me how they remained in a somewhat trance for a few seconds just staring at the hand offered to them. This being in front of her barely made an effort to stop her nor did it incline her to jump. As if leaving the decision to her, having her think of everything first—before they went.
My friend…well—they didn't take his hand—they clenched up and stayed stuck to his body. They turned their eyes away and fell to their knees, hiding their face, embarrassed and scared.
There was silence and then when they went to look up again, the man was gone. They peeked over the edge and it didn't look like he jumped. It was like—-he just disappeared.
They don't know what that man was—nor who that man was—if that man was even an actual human being.
My friend turned to me as they told me this and I couldn't believe it—I don't really understand what they're trying to say or if they're messing with me but from the looks of it and knowing my friend’s personality, I can't put any doubt in their words.
Maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe it was a ghost. Maybe it was their conscience coming up with one last ditch effort to save them.
We don't know.
We can't explain what they went through.
I can only thank him, the man with the unrecognizable face. He was there for my friend when I couldn't. He was the one that helped them see that jumping off wasn't the answer. So whether they were real or not, alien or not, ghost or not, monster or not—they saved my friend…or more like helped my friend save themselves.
Whoever that person is? If they read this or hear about this—thank you.
And if you're someone who is suffering right now or going through a tough patch in your life—I want you to know that there's someone out there for you—someone who can listen—tomorrow's another day and we can do something to change it.
After they told me this, with the help of my parents, my family’s finding them a place to stay—as for now—they’re staying at my place but we’re figuring things out.
I don't want them to lose faith. I don't want them to ever think of that being an option again.
Thank you all for deciding to read this—even though it was long. I hope that whatever’s going on with you all, you can work through. I know that you save yourself just as my friend did.
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
janainaart
