Soā¦ I was not involved in TMA fandom at all. I heard about the podcast and listened to it when it was already all out. I didnāt go online, didnāt look at anyone elseās opinions about itā¦.
So now, following along with the Magness protocol as itās coming out week to week, I am actually getting to experience this story with a whole community of people whose opinions will change and influence mine inevitably. And itās a completely different experience.
Itās also interesting because it allows me to dissect the statements more instead of just binging them to get to the next one as fast as I can. I guess Iām picking up more themes and layers and symbolism and shit. Itās really fun!
But I am not a patient person and the weight is agonizing! Agonizing! I cannot wait for Thursdays now! Which is some thing I never thought I would say ļæ¼
Fictober Event, The prompts for 2023
Here is the list for October this year. Write something short (or long) and tag it with #fictober23 in the first five tags. Letās see your creativity!
Ā Ā Ā "It's not too late, let's go."
Ā Ā Ā "Don't worry, I got you."
Ā Ā Ā "Okay, show me."
Ā Ā Ā "Do you even know what this means?"
Ā Ā Ā "You're the smartest person I know."
Ā Ā Ā "I can't wait for you."
Ā Ā Ā "Do you recognise this?"
Ā Ā Ā "Give me that, before anything happens."
Ā Ā Ā "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Ā Ā Ā "It's alright, I'm here now."
Ā Ā Ā "You lost it. Well, we lost it."
Ā Ā Ā "I'm not saying I didn't like it."
Ā Ā Ā "Come with me, hurry."
Ā Ā Ā "If you don't stop now ā"
Ā Ā Ā "Fine, explain it to me."
Ā Ā Ā "Do you know a way out of here?"
Ā Ā Ā "I never said it would be easy."
Ā Ā Ā "We can't do this on our own."
Ā Ā Ā "What if we're wrong?"
Ā Ā Ā "This better be good."
Ā Ā Ā "Just in case this doesn't work."
Ā Ā Ā "Who takes care of you?"
Ā Ā Ā "No, you won't understand, ever."
Ā Ā Ā "Is it over? Is it really over?"
Ā Ā Ā "Do I look like I knew that?"
Ā Ā Ā "Honestly, why would I care?"
Ā Ā Ā "I don't know if they will accept this."
Ā Ā Ā "I may not get another chance to say this."
Ā Ā Ā "That's all? Easy."
Ā Ā Ā "Are you with me?"
Ā Ā Ā "It's not your fault."
This event is open to all fanfiction and original fiction.
Start October the First. You do not have to do the prompts in order. Tag your posts with #fictober23. Please state if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom at the top. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly. I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. I will reblog things here on @fictober-event, follow this blog to see all the entries.
Check the rules for any questions.
Here's the AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Fictober23
sorry for dead tumblr whoopdeedoo. got a job and barely have time to write blablabla
any good horror october prompts?
i'm not sure if i'll write anything though, i've been fixated on a current call of cthulhu ttrpg with my friends. let's see if something catches my interest
Originally, I wanted to do a challenge so I can practice writing fiction again. It's insane how months of being busy and being depressed have led me to forget how much I loved writing stories. In fact, looking at my tumblr, I realized that I had stopped posting 2015.
I want to change that. So anyway, Whumptober happened. I want to thank my good friend @Coffee for introducing me to the prompt list.
I don't really know how masterposts go as this is my first one, but I'll just add a link to all of the days I posted.
31 DAYS OF WHUMPTOBER
Color Codes:
Violet - Pandora's Box (OC) series
Red - D&D OC fics
Blue - Fic for specific fandoms
Green - Standalone OC fics
Day 1: All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go
["You have to let go" | bound]
TW for violence, blood, and torture. The first in the Pandora's Box series!
Day 2: Talking is Overrated (Hades)
[Choking]
TW for violence and blood, and slight torture. A Hades fic featuring our lovely Elysium lads!
Day 3: Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones but... (Genshin Impact)
[taunting | insults | "Who did this to you?"]
Featuring my best boyes Razor and Bennet. Not really a ship fic.
Day 4: Trust Fall
[āDo you trust me?ā | taken hostage | pushed]
Some little wlw action because of brainrot.
Day 5: I've Got Red in my Ledger
[betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose]
TW for blood and violence. The father encounters some trouble.
Day 6: Touch and Go
[bruises | touch starved | hunger]
NSFW for some descriptions, and TW for blood. Featuring my dhampir warlock OC Anitta Strangelove~
Day 7: My Spidey-Sense is Tingling
[helplessness | numbness]
CW for sleep paralysis. An attempt at a creepypasta.
Day 8: Coughing up a Lung
[pneumothorax]
CW for death. I had to research pneumothorax before this.
Day 9: Rumors of my Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated
[presumed dead | (blind) rage | tears]
TW for slight torture, blood, and violence, featuring my friend's D&D OC! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO POST THIS ON THE DAY I HAD TO POST IT BUT ANYWAY...
Day 10: Oops, I Did it Again (Persona 5)
[flare-up | ice chips]
Short p5 speculative fic featuring one of my favorite ships! Pegoryu AAAAA
Day 11: Just Keep Swimming
[adrift | drowning | dehydration]
More pandora's box. Also referencing Kate Bush's song "And Dream of Sheep"!
Day 12: It'll be Fun, They Said (The Sandman)
[torture | made to watch | begging]
NSFW for explicit scenes and BDSM. TW for (implied) gore and blood. A fic featuring my Corinthian brainrot
Day 13: That's Gonna Leave a Mark (Arknights)
[āThis is gonna suckā | burns | cauterization]
Featuring an OC operator, and Skyfire.
Day 14: Under Pressure
[crush injuries | beaten | force]
CW for bodily harm. TW for graphic depictions of violence. Featuring my half-elf bard D&D character Oxyll Orobyn!
Day 15: Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever (The Sandman)
[delirium | fever dreams | bees]
An OC meets Delirium.
Day 16: On a Need to Know Basis
[recovery | scars | aftermath]
TW for substance abuse. Featuring my OC high elf monk!
Day 17: Field Care 101
[āPlease donāt move!ā | hemorrhage | dread]
Wartime. Featuring my OC Spotty in a war AU!
Day 18: The Doctor is In
[āNow smile for the cameraā | doctorās visit]
CW for scary descriptions of monsters. Another attempt at a creepypasta!
Day 19: Just a Scratch
[bleeding | stabbing]
TW for graphic depictions of violence. Featuring my good friend's D&D OC!
Day 20: Lost & Found
[trapped under water | solitary confinement]
The origin of Pandora..?
Day 21: That's Where the Blood's Supposed to Be
[bleeding through the bandages | pressure | blood-matted hair]
More of my OC Spotty in a wartime AU. She makes a friend..?
Day 22: They Made Me Do It
[cursed | demon | obsession]
TW for madness and depictions of drowning. A prequel to pandora's owner.
Day 23: You Break It, You Buy It (Persona 5)
[auction | pursuit]
A short AU side-story-ish fic featuring the phantom thieves!
Day 24: One Down Two to Go
[self-induced injuries to escape | flashback | revenge]
TW for graphic depictions of violence, specifically breaking bones. Featuring my girl Anitta!
Day 26: You Will Go Down With This Ship
[fallen | waterfall]
Day 27: I'm Fine. I Prom...
[passing out | vertigo | collapse]
CW for poisoning/poison gas. Featuring my OC Priscilla in a highschool prom AU
Day 28: It's Not Just in Your Head
[āGood. Youāre finally awake.ā | nightmares | panic]
TW for violence and death (massacre). Featuring the backstory of my wood elf druid Vasilisa Morozova and my friend's human artificer Alvard Fenriksen!
Day 29: All Work and No Play
[āYouāre still not dead?ā | too weak to move | overworked]
TW for exorcism and torture. The last in the Pandora's box series.
Day 30: Digging Your Grave
[major character death | left for dead | ghosts]
Featuring my OC Human Hexblade Warlock Priscilla. An epilogue I should have written ages ago.
Day 31: Hurt & Comfort
[disaster zone | trauma | prisoner]
The final entry in Spotty's adventures in a wartime AU.
Summary: Nescryn's brother had been captured. She runs, lost and alone in the woods. But this will not stop her from her mission.
OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED A POST ASLKDJASLKDJA I PROMISE I WROTE THIS ON THE SAME DAY I JUST FORGOT TO POST IT!!!! WTF!!!
ANYWAY
Note: This is a fanfic featuring my good friend @SamulsonsHeir character, a high elf artificer Nescryn Samulson. She's a character in @masterjad's homebrew D&D campaign, The Valtherian Chronicles!
The woods were getting thinner and the moon was rising before Nescryn could ascertain her surroundings. She was running away with nothing more than her equipment and her life and she ran and ran until she heard no more of the soldiers' footfalls. She did not stop until the soles of her feet were worn out. She continued running until she lost her breath and let herself and her bag fall to the forest floor, cupping her mouth with both hands as she screamed, muted, and let the tears flow freely from her.
She knows the woods like the back of her hand, yet she finds herself getting lost in her haze of frantic, confused thoughts.
How did the empire know we were there where is my brother is he dead? Should I go back and check? what waits for me in Glendale my footsteps are too noisy I don't have enough bolts to fend off a squadron of soldiers Can somebody HELP ME
Even birdsong and the crunching of leaves in the undergrowth wasn't enough to cover Nescryn's ever-pacing mind. It was unbecoming of someone like her to have her concentration willed away like wisps on cold winter winds. It would even be more unbecoming if she died from the very thing her brother risked his life for.
She stood up slowly and tilted her head to the side as an arrow whizzed past her left side. She drew her crossbow and fired in the direction of the arrow. Moments later she heard a muted thump and a grunt as something heavy hit the floor.
Rushing to the source of the noise, she sees a soldier sprawled on the ground, pierced through the chest by her armor-breaking arrow. The blood was pouring out of the open wound. As he heard her footsteps, he tried getting to his feet. Nescryn, without a word, kicks the soldierās crossbow out of reach. She raises him by his collar. She pinned him to a nearby tree with another one of her arrows, screaming in pain as she concentrated on breaking his left shoulder in the process. With a sickening crunch the arrow connects with the tree through the other side of his body and swears in all forms of common.
This mattered not to Nescryn. She took off his helmet and brought her left fist down to his face. He brings down her right fist. Again and again, in the cold, calculated manner that sheās poured onto her work. The tears start to flow freely from her as she thinks about the events in of the past day and she thinks that she should have done something better, something to get them both out of there, but she couldnāt--
And at last she remembers Xalthosā smiling face and her promise to come back for her brother and this brings her back to the present. She stops, heart pounding, head spinning. She looks at her fists, marred with cuts and bruises and stained with blood. She looks at the soldier, whose face she couldnāt even look at anymore. Reinforcements would probably arrive in a few moments. She has to pack up soon and leave no trace.
Nescryn drops to the forest floor, face buried in her bloodstained hands. For now, all is quiet.
To those that have liked and reblogged my writings, thank you so much. from the bottom of my heart.
Though I've had several difficulties with writing due to irl stuff, I am happy to have tried my hand in picking up the pen again.
I haven't written anything fiction for many months before October happened. I only got around to doing 15 days of kinktober last year, and never got to finish it. Maybe I'll post them sometime but also I'm a little embarrassed by them, so probably not lmfao
Summary: Spotty and the rest of the resistance fighters have been captured and placed in individual prison cells. On a cold, lonely night in her cell, she tries hard to cope and hope for the best.
War is unfair.
It is something that takes and keeps on taking, something that will never stop until even after the bombs and guns have run out. It is something that will always haunt oneās dreams and waking moments, long after everything else has settled. It is unfair, but it will keep happening.
Spotty wraps both arms around her legs and keeps them close to her body as she tries to stay warm in the small, dingy stone cell sheās been locked in. They didnāt bother to put cuffs on her hands so sheās free to move around and make herself as comfortable as possible, in the worst way she can manage. Thereās a small hole on the ceiling where dirty water sometimes leaks through and she jumps when she hears the dripping. Her bed is messy and bloodstained, but the blood is not hers. She worries herself over the fate of the prisoners that once occupied this cell.
Looking outside the small window of her cell is pointless. The outside is caked with dirt and dust, and barred twice over with iron. Occasionally, she can hear and perceive running and shaking outside, in the few hours that she has already been here. During these occasions, she keeps her ears shut, the memories of the past few months coming to haunt her.
She knocks on the cells on both sides, calling out to the prisoners. No response. Just a few hours ago, she heard profanity and screams from her right, but she didnāt know who it was.
Perhaps, she is truly alone. Perhaps the fight is really over. She ignores the rumbling in her stomach as she realizes that she hasnāt eaten anything today. Briefly considering drinking the dirty dripping water to quench her parched throat, Spotty comes closer to the hole. A drop trickles, and it tastes horrible, a combination of metallic and putrid. She retches and heaves painfully.
As a last resort, Spotty goes over to the bed. The smell and the size of the bed means nothing to her, as her bed in the medical tent is just as worse as this one. The only thing that bothers her is the fact that once the cold settles in, her toes would probably freeze and she would end up shivering. Spotty tries to tuck herself in as close as she can to her body. By now, it would already be around midnight. The dreary silence is broken a few times by explosions off in the distance or a random scream coming from the wall to her left. She decides to ignore them, sleep this off.
Perhaps in the morning, or whenever she awakes, things would turn out for the better. But today will not be that day. She prays to whoeverās listening and available, and mumbles a lullaby to herself.
Summary: In her final moments, Priscilla gets a glimpse of a life beyond what she had lived.
Note: This is a small write-up of my first D&D OC, Priscilla von Rosenbaum. She's a human hexblade warlock. She knows nothing about her past save for the fact that the Raven Queen rescued her from death by an ancient red dragon. In exchange for a rebirth, the memories of her past life were taken by the Raven Queen. And to bring her memories back, she has to find and defeat the ancient red dragon that ended her life once.
Out of all the OCs I have ever had in D&D so far, Priscilla is one of the least-characterized ones. My first foray into D&D was actually as a DM and not as a player lol, so I got to DM, but I never really got to play her officially. However, through some text RPs and some oneshots, I was able to bring her to some campaigns. I really love her, and I thought Whumptober was the perfect opportunity for me to write an epilogue for her.
Anyway, sorry for the long rant, here you go! JUST ONE MORE FIC AND I'M COMPLETING WHUMPTOBER!
Priscillaās longsword pierces the ancient red dragonās heart as it breathes a column of fiery smoke that smolders everything around her to ash, and the shield of cold that she has put up around herself crumbles and disintegrates, letting her take the brunt of the fires. As a final act of resistance, she screams, exerting as much effort as she can to remove the sword from the dragonās bleeding chest to shield her from the blow, but it is far too late.
The darkness, flames, and fire were all too familiar.
What earliest memories she has of her ārebirthā are one and the same. This time, thereās no one to save her from her demise. There is no Raven Queen to offer another chance in life, and no portal to shield her from the pain. After all, she has already upholded the end of her bargain, and fulfilled her raison dāetre. She should have told her fellow adventurers about where sheās going, but theyāll find out sooner or later, anyway.
It truly is the end of the line, and there is not a soul that she can say her goodbyes with.
The blade of the void shatters like glass in front of her, and she closes her eyes, accepting defeat.
Too many people and voices go through the street, minding their own businesses, selling and buying their wares, checking the fresh produce. Priscilla finds herself in a location familiar to her. It is a street where a medieval marketplace is located, the sun high up in the sky, cloudless and immaculate.
However, she cannot recognize the people in the street, for they are only shadows, echoes of a past. They pass through her as though she is not there, nary a word of acknowledgement to let her know she is seen and perceived, and she wonders briefly who the real ghosts actually are.
She approaches a few of the stalls, expecting to pick something up from the carts, but her hand only passes through the fruits. She sees a pot of soup being prepared nearby, but she cannot feel the heat nor the smell of the meal. There is no sensation, no warmth, no lively atmosphere to be perceived here, merely an afterimage of what could have been something in her past life.
As the sun disappears from the horizon, Priscilla lies on the cobblestone steps, waiting for sleep to take her, realizing her fatigue and her sadness.
Before she drifts to sleep, she sees the visage of the Raven Queen, her white, porcelain skin and her shroud of darkness immaculate and pristine. She bows deeply, holding out her left hand.
After some time, Priscilla feels something nudge her shoulder, rousing her from sleep. The hand is insistent, and warm, different from the numbness and otherwise non-sensation of the marketplace. She opens her eyes to see a child, a young, stout boy with dark hair and grey eyes. His eyes light up when Priscilla blinks, and he gives her a hug.
āSister! Oh sister, Iāve been looking everywhere for you!ā
She frowns. Sister?
The boy notices the expression on Priscillaās face and he pouts. āHey, whatās with that look on your face?! I donāt know the marketplace very much, so of course, I got lost! Donāt blame me!ā This sends Priscillaās frown even deeper. She doesnāt remember who this is, and she knows nothing about this place, only that it is familiar. Somehowā¦ the boy is familiar too.
The boy sighs, probably losing patience. āLook, we already have the ingredients for dinner, so we should probably head back. And also! I bought you this!ā The boy grins proudly as he holds up a small fried bun. āI remember you wanted to buy one last week, but we didnāt have spare money. Luckily I had a spare copper coin, so we can share this!ā
Priscilla sits up slowly, looking at her. She isnāt wearing her sapphire coat and her white overalls, her black thigh-high boots. Sheās wearing a simple blue tunic with a white apron over it. She has a basket of goods by her side, filled with fresh-looking vegetables and fruits. The boy doesnāt wait for her to respond, only dragging her by the hand, and she gasps as he takes her by the hand and streaks of clarity fill her brain.
But of course. She remembers now. She remembers everything now.
She opens the door to her room, a small, neatly-made bed in the corner, and a few open books on a table right beside it. Her dresser is open, some patchwork quilts and dresses in the progress of being finished. She looks in the mirror and sees herself, the weariness, war-worn face and her scars not a trace. All she sees in the mirror is herself, the very same one, but younger, and healthier.
She goes to her bed and she lies down, the scent of lavender and the feel of her soft pillow making her smile and awfully comfortable.
āYouāre still not dead?ā | too weak to move | overworked
Summary: After the massacre in her family home, Ida seeks help from priests that exorcise her. It was a spectacle worth watching.
Note: This is the final entry in the Pandora's Box Whumptober series. It was a fun and refreshing experience to be able to write again.
Also, to keep up, the last two stories will be posted hopefully within the day along with a masterpost!
It's the 13th hour, yet I still don't tire of watching. I have to keep watching, waiting for them to stop moving.
The creature in the middle of the room twitches weakly, trying to hold on to their coil of life, or at least a vestige of it. For the past three hours they had been coughing, the amount of blood decreasing with each hour that passes.
I do not remember their name, but I remember how they came to be in this predicament. There is an overwhelming sense of loss and fear and anger, as I watch them crane their head upwards, high enough to let me see their bloodshot eyes, watching me intently.
I will not look away. I will see that they are dead.
The priests chanted at the top of their lungs, the conglomeration of Latin and Greek like venom on their tongues. There is madness and magic in the air, electrifying and oppressing, out-stenching the putrid smell of vomit and bile on the stone slab. The girl screamed as she received the priests' benediction, the demon inside hurt by her outright rejection of its existence. It mourns, and sighs, and breaks free, mourning the loss of a body that was perfectly capable of causing death and destruction. It could have been the end of all time, but it ended.
The girl watches the demon's emaciated body be chained to the floor, a trap door above pouring spouts of holy water for every hour that passes. Unholy screams and yelps of words that transcend human language, utterly incomprehensible, come forth from them. The girl trembled in fear but she looked on, eager to see this through.
"I cannot imagine what you have been through, Ida. The gods above will see to it that your tormentor, this unhallowed catastrophe, will be banished. For now, you can rest."
The ceremony official took her hand, urging her to rest. She shook her head.
"I.. I want to watch. They took my father, and my mother, and my sister from me. I do not know why they did this to me, but they blamed me. They said I was perfect. I am not. So I want to ask them and watch them."
The official looked at her, and he nodded.
"If that is your wish, young one, then that shall be granted."
The demon had been watching the girl behind a glass the whole time, and try as they might to break free, spittle and blood spewing and frothing at the mouth, they cannot touch her.
"You're still not dead?" I watch as the creature's torso gets pierced through by the water that pours from the trapdoor above. That cannot be. They are already pushed to their limit. I can see it in their body. But their eyes, the fire and anger have not been extinguished yet.
"i.. willā¦ notā¦ dieā¦ hereā¦ loveā¦ youā¦" they cough, and I watch closely.
"You will what?"
They laugh, and the sound makes my teeth grate. It was like hearing the depths of the earth.
"...willā¦ seeā¦ othersā¦ ofā¦ meā¦" Their eyes light up, enough for me to see. I tilt my head. I wonder when they will pass away.
"You are the only one inside that box. You are the manifestation of chaos, of everything bad in this world. You could have done better without my help. So why did you still pick me?"
Something changes in their demeanor. Their shoulders softened, their long, broken nails piercing the ground laid flat on the floor. They looked away from me, their head turned to the floor.
"Youā¦ understoodā¦ myā¦ painā¦"
I don't understand what they mean. "Did I?" Tentatively, I go closer to the glass. The creature remained in place, too weak to move.
It did not have the energy to turn back to me, and I think I can feel them decaying before me. Slowly by slowly, particles of dust rose up from the place where they were lying down. They said something, almost a whisper. If I didn't place my ear close to the glass, I could have missed it.
After that, a small hurricane picked up and as I blinked, the creature was gone, the only evidence of its existence a large puddle of black blood on the floor.
I stared there for a long while, so long until the priests picked me up and let me rest. I pondered their final words to me.
"Because in another life, I was once like you. I wanted to avenge you."
Somehow, I didn't doubt them.
Alone in a small room with a cold, hard bed, I let the tears fall from my face. I mourned for my family. I pondered my future, and dried my tears, staring at the ceiling. Yes. There was still so much to do. Like picking up the scraps from my family home, and talking with the custodian. And perhaps taking over what's left of my father's archaeological business.
we're now very close to the end of the event and like last year, we want you to have these badges to commemorate your participation and achievement of becoming a completionist!
Thank you so much for all the creativity, joy and manic energy you brought us ā¤ļø Thank you all - creators & consumers - for making this community strive and coming together in this fun event!
Summary: Vasilisa canāt seem to shake off a dream she had about the events that changed her life forever, and how she wants to kill the little bitch Strahd.
Note: This is a fic featuring characters from a Curse of Strahd campaign DM'ed by my good friend @SamulsonsHeir. Vasilisa Morozova is my Wood Elf Druid, and Alvard Fenriksen is @masterJAD's character, a Human Artificer!
āVasilisa. Run.ā
She felt the heat emanating from the burning grass and the dying trees around her. Tears that have long left her eyes stained her cheek and they felt like molten liquid. Her family tells her to run, but she could not. She knew she had to. She did. Yet she couldnāt.
She couldnāt look away. She knew that it was possible for him to strike her heart, and burn away everything else, including her. The beastās piercing red eyes held her gaze, and he smirked.
She canāt look away even as her family cried and begged for her to go. Her breathing was erratic, and her heart pounding like it wanted to come out of her chest.
Was this fear? Why canāt I move?
Sheās had this same vision for days on end, but she couldnāt quite reach the ending. All she knew was that it made her cry and scared her all the same.
Was everything my fault? Did I live for nothing?
Her parents and her siblings didnāt answer. Perhaps they were too scared to admit it, that Vasilisa had done something wrong. She wanted to cry. She wanted Strahd to take her life, let her join the family, but he didnāt. And perhaps thatās the most cruel thing of all - the fact that her family would always be there for her, but she couldnāt promise the same.
She put her hands on her eyes, stopping the tears from flowing. They couldnāt. They just kept going. Itās getting really hard to breathe for her, taking in large gulps of air. The end just couldnāt come any closer, why wonāt it just arrive?
She heard a voice calling out to her, but she couldnāt recognize the voice. She pushed it away, but it was insistent. It tugged at her, and she felt her legs beneath her give way, and she opened her eyes.
In front of her was the worried visage of a blond man, a potion in his right hand.
āGood, youāre finally awake. Ye got me worried dere for a second.ā
Vasilisa reached for Alvard, and she hugged him, sobbing on his shoulder.
āOy, oy, be careful wid de potion, Vasi..!ā
The alchemist sighed, putting the potion down on a nearby tree stump, and hugged Vasilisa as well.
āBad dream, eh? But datās not right. You lot canāt really sleep.ā
Summary: Prom night is supposed to be a grand night for high school. For Priscilla, it was the worst. And that might have been a good thing that she didnāt have a good time.
Heck yeah just one more fic and I'm already caught up! An AU fic for my OC Priscilla, a short prom mystery thing.
I hate high school cliches.
I donāt want to say that I was one of the weird one archetypes that didnāt really fit in in class, in a social circle, or anywhere, really. I wish I could say that I had a group of friends that I cared about, but we drift in and out of those circles.
So, as much as I hate to be put in the cliche of an outcast whoās far away from the dancefloor in the school grounds, it still happened to me. Who would have thought? I wonder if I should just go in there and do something, but I canāt. Thereās nothing for me there. I just wasted a hundred dollars on a stupid dress and makeup. I wish things turned out differently.
I donāt remember how long I stayed in that dingy bench, sloshing a plastic cup that was already half-empty of fruit punch. It tasted bland and if I could sum up the entirety of this night in a few words, it would have to be those three first words.
I think I felt something shift behind me, and I thought maybe they were probably one of the partygoers having some fun. But no, I didnāt hear anything else, just a slight movement in the wind, and a feeling of slight dizziness.
Thatās strange. Was it something I ate or drank? I sat up from my sitting position, and my head throbbed a tiny bit. Itās probably the way I was seated, then.
Then I felt something touch my shoulder and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I stood up to see who the intruder was, and I dropped my drink. It was a guy in a tuxedo and bow tie, but I didnāt really know him. He was wearing a cap and he had a backpack slung over his back, and his face wasnāt looking at me directly. Or, I donāt know, he must have been looking straight at me. Iām blinking my eyes hard, trying to feel relief, but my head just keeps on throbbing like shit.
āHey, youāre Priscilla. Um, from 12-B, right?ā
āYeah.ā My headās full-on spinning now, and I feel nauseous.
He laughs. āOh okay, good. I thought everyone was already inside.ā
His laugh gave me a headache. āSorry, what?ā I canāt focus properly on his face, and the more I try to put myself in a more upright, standing position, the worse I feel. I donāt recognize him, but I think Iāve already seen him somewhere. I just donāt remember names that much..
āHey are you okay, you, uh.. Oh no--ā
I had to sit down, the light dimming in my eyes. Could it have been the drinks? The guy took my hand and my shoulder and guided me to the bench that I had been sitting on for a few hours now. My world refused to stop spinning right before my eyes.
āYou donāt look so well. Hey, letās get out of here. I can bring you home, is your house nearby?ā
Hell no. My parents would think I was having some shady shit. Or actually, you know what? Maybe I can let him take me home. I laughed despite myself.
āNo, no, Iām fine. I just need-- ugh..ā
āPriscilla? Letās get out of here. Iāll carry you. You canāt stay here.ā
āNo, itās okay, Iām fine. I prom--ā
The noises in the background were draining away, and I closed my eyes. I think Iām going to pass out. The last thing I felt before I lost consciousness was muffled screaming and a feeling of my body being carried by the guy. I never asked his name.
Looking back now, I think that was for the best.
When I came to, it was already morning, and I was back in my bedroom. My parents told me that I went home near midnight, and they were worried about me.
āWhat? Why?ā I said, as I was sipping my milk and chomping on a breakfast burrito. Dad had been talking to people all morning, and apparently some police would be coming in later to ask me questions. I didnāt quite understand, and that sent a shiver down my spine.
āYou didnāt hear? Oh god..ā
Apparently, the students that stayed in the prom until midnight fainted, some of them actually dead. There were traces of gas and poison found in the basketball court where the prom night took place. Fear pooled in the pit of my stomach when I found out that apparently someone had poisoned the punch and placed the gas canisters around the court. The perpetrator still was nowhere to be found.
I gulped slowly, thinking about the random guy that I encountered outside the school.
Summary: A young sailor falls from the ship and he recounts a failed mutiny against the backdrop of a sinking ship in a waterfall at the edge of the world.
When all the world falls from beneath you, and the water beneath your feet gives way to your descent, what are the thoughts that come through your head?
To me, itās the regret of not having to shoot the captain twice in the heart.
The sun was high in the sky, the azure waters giving way to foam and bubbles, and the sound of rushing water. A young sailor, his head swimming from the height in which the ship was so precariously balanced, holds his hands up, crossing the plank.
Beads of sweat went down his back as he readied himself for what he was about to do. He turned around with a head start, walking back to the ship. As soon as he reached the starboard, he jumped, raising his leg, kicking the captain in the chest. He came down on his legs and the young sailor jumped onto him before the other crew closed in on him, his hands on the captainās gun.
There were screams of a mutiny from the portside. Gunshots rang out, and the sailor knew that the mission was underway. Taking the gun, he closed his eyes and shot randomly at the crowd, eliciting yelps of pain. He opened his eyes, the crowd dispersed.
It was time to take the ship from the captain. It was--
Suddenly, he felt a burst of pain from his left shoulder blade, sudden and intense. He looked to his left to see a cutlass blade pierced through him, the owner of the blade twirling him with the blade harshly, the blade pulled from his side. He raised the gun, but it was all so fast. With one swift motion, he was pushed to the bow, bleeding out on the deck.
The captain looked at him, red in his eyes. āYou and your lot will be sent straight to hell!ā
He shot the captain, and he felt him choke, his eyes barely registering the blooming red stain on his precious captain coat. He let go of the sailor, hobbling backwards, uneasy on his feet. He fell to the ground, trying to catch his breath, reminding himself that he was merely human. The sailor held his left shoulder, steeling himself for another shot. But he didnāt make it.
The ship was falling, wobbling, and he had to grab on to one of the masts to steady himself, but the world was going backwards. There were screams all over the ship.
āWe need hands here!ā āGrab the chains!ā āNo!ā āLet go of my hand, you damned wretch!ā
Someone grabbed him by his uninjured shoulder blade, and he was thrown to the ground, which was going to be turned upside down. He closed his eyes, losing his grip, and he heard a voice before he fell.
āYour mutiny is useless, boy. This ship will go down with me, and so will you.ā
Itās a shame. I had my hand on the flintlock, but I wasnāt fast enough.
I wondered if the rest of the crew were able to be safe, or if they were falling down with me.
I opened my eyes, looking down to see the pool of foam and rushing water from the waterfall rapidly approaching. I wondered if there were rocks below. Or if I would survive.
self-induced injuries to escape | flashback | revenge
Summary: In the clutches of darkness, Anitta wants to break free from the chains that bind her, and take her captor down with her.
A fic exploring the backstory of my dhampir warlock Anitta Strangelove, a character from my good friend @Coffee's homebrew steampunk campaign!
The cold metal digs into her skin, close enough to burn, but not quite. His father knew what they were doing, but he did nothing but watch. The last she saw of him was the steely look on his face, his hands on his cane as they dragged her away.
Sheās never understood what her mother, her real one, meant about peopleās true intentions until this day.
āThey will feed you, and clothe you, hurt you, and do many other things with you. They wonāt stop until they try to suppress your true nature, mĆ³j maÅy skarb. And only during that time can you rely only on yourself, and no one else.ā
She looks around the cell sheās contained in, and looks at the silver bars in front of her. She can definitely do it. Thereās enough space. She just needs to be rid of these damn chains.
Anitta takes deep breaths. Itās now or never.
She holds onto her right wrist, and squeezes. She bites down on her tongue to keep her from screaming out in pain and she tries to expect it. But she sees red and stars behind her eyes, and the shock of the sound of her bones popping and her skin tearing elicits a harsh yelp and tears start to fall. She kneels to the ground, moving her body inwards, trying not to cry. If she blows her cover, sheāll face something worse. But the pain.. The pain is too much..
āIt hurts, oh it hurts so muchā she whispers to herself, and she wonders if itās only the literal pain sheās feeling. She couldn't bear to look at her own hand. She wonders why her father put her in this predicament, and why her mother only looked at her with those soft eyes.
āMama. Why will people be bad? Why will they harm us?ā
Her mother strokes her hair, lulling her to sleep with an old dhampir folk tune.
āBecause they can, and because they will, kochanie.ā
Her mother looks at her with soft eyes, and kisses her cheek.
The pain subsided, but the embers of her anger were only beginning. Taking both of her hands, she whispers the incantation and she walks through the mist, away from the prison cell.
Opening the door to the cell, she sees two guards turn their heads towards her. But that doesnāt matter at all. Two down, plenty more to go. But she can take all the time in the world.
Ascending the stairs, she attempts to look as presentable as she can even with the bloodstains on her dress and her ruined hand. No cage will ever be enough to chain her.
Atop the stairs, his father moves back behind a group of armed men. She can smell the fear and the anxiety from him.
āGuards! Take her away!ā He screams to the men behind him, and they nod, going for her.
Summary: After quitting his nightly janitor job at Playtime Co., Ed takes a break to rest and recuperate. One night at 3 am, he gets a distressing call that sends shivers down his spine..
Note: I wrote this out of the sheer terror I had after watching multiple playthroughs of Poppy Playtime. I have never, EVER felt so scared of a toy in my life than Huggy-fuckin-Wuggy. Also, this is the first time Iām doing a sort of chase scene through the telephone so forgive mt for the poor execution (spoilers lol).
Now is not yet your time.
Get up.
I can hear the sounds of screams ringing in my ears, the eyes of a thousand toys that I swear are following my direction every time I look up from sweeping and scrubbing the floors. Each night, I can sense those eyes, those little beads of white on black that seem to want to break out of their manufactured boxes.
The worst Iāve ever seen of it were the employees that seemed to never have come back after their shift. The boss says that it was because they werenāt able to comply with factory standards, but I know thatās not true. Somethingās being hidden here, but I donāt know what.
A week after I resigned, I kept some close contact with my buddy Eric. Heād always be on the shift after me, and everytime we switched places, I could see him looking terrified. I even tried talking to him about it, but all the time, he says that itās nothing. Itās just our nerves getting the better of us.
Bullshit.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would wake up, screaming, but I donāt know what it is I saw. Something.. Like teeth. Rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth, threatening to swallow me whole.
I think I need to see the doctor. But.. I donāt know what to tell āem. That Iām crazy? That some kidās factoryās messing with my brain? I donāt know. Maybe Iām just overthinking this. I never picked up a rosary before but I think Iām gonna try doing what my mom used to do. To calm me, maybe fall asleep.
Iām suddenly awake when my home phone rings.No one ever calls me anymore, but thatās my fault. I needed some time for myself. I wonder who it is. I stretch my limbs, bleary-eyed, looking at the digital clock on my bedside before getting chills down my spine.
3 am.
Holy shit.
The phone kept ringing, and suddenly I felt the urge to ignore it. I donāt want anything to do with this anymore, if itās from the factory. Fuck that.
I go back to bed, trying to shake away my fear. I count sheep, wanting to forget. But the damned phone keeps ringing. Itās cold, but Iām sweating in fear. I donāt want anything happening. If I keep ignoring it, itāll surely end the call, yeah?
But it doesnāt. The sound of the phone drones in my ear, and maybe after a minute, it still keeps on going. Fuck. If I donāt open it, I might wake the neighbors. I put my hands over my face and sigh, turning towards my bedside. 3:03 am. Fuck. Witching Hour. Fuck..
āDamn it, damn it, damn it..!ā I reach out and put the receiver up to my ear.
āH-Hello?ā
Thereās no response.
āHello, who is this?ā
Still no response. But I heard some sort of thump? Like someone banging on metal. It makes me think about the many vents and conveyor belts of the factory, where the multitude of plastic limbs and eyes would accompany my once-nightly cleanups. Fuck. I should stop thinking about them.
āHey, itās 3 am and I would love to get back to sleep. Uh.. whoās calling me?ā
This time, I could hear some static, and someone.. Breathing? I donāt know. Maybe itās just my brain messing with me again. But I know somethingās not right. Somethingās happening, and I can feel the fight-or-flight response. I gotta hang up.
āHey, is this a prank call? Iām hanging up. I donāt have time to play around.ā
āHELP. HELP.ā
Suddenly thereās a voice on the other end, somehow disembodied and hollow? Like speaking through a can. My hands are sweating. I think I know whoās talking.
āE-Eric? Eric, man, is that you?ā
Another thump, and I involuntarily shake. I sit upright, hyperfocusing on the call. I could hear footsteps (were they footsteps?) at the other end, and erratic breathing.
āEd! ..fuck..!ā thereās a sound of banging on the other end, and some blood curdling scream from the distance. Iām panicking. I think Iām panicking. āEd.. listen! Youāve got to fucking help me! Th-the--ā thereās another scream, and this time itās nearer. I curl my toes, and close my eyes, trying to control my breathing. Thereās a squeak of some hinge and a small thud.
āEric, what the fuck is happening? Are you in the factory?!ā
āYeah!ā He breathes erratically, but keeps his voice down.. āDude, look, I donāt have much time, Iām hiding in one of the employee locker rooms, you know? The one on the second floor?ā
āYeah, yeah, I hear you. Listen, what the fuck is happening there?ā
āCan you come pick me up, man? The fucking.. The fucking DOLL, it came alive! Oh god--ā
Thereās a thump on the other end, and skittering. Thereās a moment of silence and Eric whimpers on the other end. I think heās still in the locker, trying to not make a sound. Iām taking my wallet, trying to look at the floorplan I still have of the factory, then I take a pen from my drawer. I look at the second page and I nod to myself. I think I know where Eric is.
āListen, Eric. Iām a state away from you. Even if I drive now, I wonāt be able to make it there in two days. Buddy. Iām sorry, okay?ā
Eric whimpers on the other end, and I swear I can imagine him gritting his teeth as thereās a sudden loud THUMP, and Iām standing at the edge of my bed. Iām shining a light on the map and Iām drawing a line, maybe the nearest exit possible. I think I know where he can go.
āEric, my man, you there?ā
āY-yeah, Iām here. Itās uh..ā thereās a slight pause, āitās all quiet now. I think. Iām looking through the slits in the locker.. Oh fuckā¦ why the fuck is there blood--ā
Heās gurgling and I think heās going to throw up.
āBuddy hold it in!ā
Too late. I heard the sound of a heave and liquid pouring down.
āMan, look. Calm down. Youāre not going to achieve anything from hiding there. Whateverās pursuing you--ā I look at the map again, āit canāt reach you if you get out of there as fast as you can. Alright? I know the way. I still have my map.ā
āO-okay. Yeah.. youāre right..ā
āYouāre on the second floor. Which means youāre probably on the east wing, where the lockers are. Thereās a fire exit on your right, if Iām right, that should be unlocked. You got that?ā
āY-yeah.. Yeah..ā
āAlright. Go. Now. Be my eyes and ears, Iāll guide you.ā
What I assume is the locker door opens, and I can hear Eric whimper on the other end. Thereās a little bit of static and I can hear his footsteps. Thereās a slight struggle as he tries to open what I assume is the fire exit door and it does, swinging open, really loudly. I cringed, my teeth gritting. Fuck.
āThe..the coast is clear.. Umā¦ fuck.. Okay.. uh down?ā
āYouāre in the fire exit now? Good. Okay, go up one flight of stairs. Thereās supposed to be a door there that leads straight to the cafeteria. Then I think you already know from there yeah?ā
I hear a flight of stairs and a piercing scream and my heart thumps in my chest. āEric what the fuck was that--ā
āITāS BEHIND ME ITāS BEHIND ME ITāS CRAWLING UP FROM THE STAIRS OH GOD OH FUCKKKK--ā
āRUN! JUST RUN, ERIC!ā
I hear Ericās erratic breathing and his footsteps as he ascends the hallway, and I can hear small pitter-patter of footsteps behind him, and Iām sweating, trying to hold on to the phone and keeping my wits with me. Oh god. Iām in my house, Iām okay. But Eric isnāt. And Iām fearing for his life. His life depends on me. I have to save him. I have to--
I hear a door swinging open and I hear Eric dashing through an open area, I think itās the cafeteria. I can hear the squeaks of his rubber shoes on the polished floor and all around him are the sounds, distorted sounds of the Playtime Co. anthem on speaker and it makes me want to hang up, but I wonāt. I have to help him escape.
āEric. Donāt look back. Just keep running. Once you get out of the cafeteria, make a quick right. Youāll be at the factory entrance. Just a bit more okay? Eric?ā
āYeah! Oh god, oh fuck, Ed itās behind me, and itās MASSIVE--ā
āI TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK BACK! Just keep running, yeah? There should be a double door--ā
āED! OH FUCK, THE HANDS!ā
Thereās a chill down my spine. The Grabpack. āEric, you donāt have your Grabpack with you?ā
āOH GOD, OH GOD, OH F--ā
I hear him screaming as he thumps on something repeatedly, and lastly, the swinging of the big double doors. Itās done. Heās out of there.
I continue to hear the squeak of his shoes and another thump, followed by another. Eric lets out a moan, I think itās him. āEric, bud, what happened?ā
Thereās sounds of something muffled on the line, intelligible. I donāt know what the fuck that is. Iām gripping the phone tight that my nails are already digging in my palms. āEric, talk to me!ā
Thereās only silence. Then static. Then, the line drops. My heart wants to burst out of my chest. I try to dial the number, Ericās number. I think thatās his phone. Just seven numbers. This is fine, this is fine, but Eric isnāt. I have to call. I hear the dial, but thereās no response. Iām sweating, pacing my room. What doll? Whatās chasing after him, could it be..
Then, suddenly, my phone rings. I pick it up and answer even before the first chime ends. āEric, bud, you ok?ā
Thereās only static on the other end.
āEric?ā
āHey, Ed.ā I let out an audible sigh of relief, but at the same time, I kept my guard up. The jigās probably not over yet. āAre you out already?ā
Thereās silence on the other end. I can barely hear anything. Itās as if itās muffled. But Iām sure thatās Ericās voice. āYeah, Iām free now.ā
Free? What..
āYou mean, you got out of the factory already? Nothingās chasing you anymore?ā
More silence. My stomach sinks. Somethingās wrong.
āYeah. Iām fine now. Itās all good now.ā I think I can hear a smile in his voice.. What..?
āAre you sure, Eric? You donāt.. You donāt sound like what you sounded a while ago.ā
āI said, Ed, Iām okay now. You donāt have to worry about me.ā
āYou saying that makes me worry even more! Eric, if you need it, I can pick you up--ā
āItās okay now. You donāt have to worry about me anymore. Just.. forget it, okay? It was just my mind playing tricks on me again.ā
I can feel somethingās wrong. I donāt know. I have to start packing.
āHey, Iām getting over there as early as I can. By tomorrow morning, Iāll be there. Go to the police, report whateverās happening there, and stay there okay? I can help you. Drive you to your house if you need to.ā
āEverythingās been taken care of, Ed. Itās alright now.ā
āIt doesnāt seem to be that way.ā
Thereās some laugh, and a rumble on the other end, but it seemed like more of a growl. I stop in my tracks.
āOne way or another, everything will turn out for the best, Ed. Goodbye now.ā
The line ends, and my phone doesnāt ring for the rest of the night.
Iām in my car and Iām driving across the country to head to Playtime Co. the fastest way possible. Eric, or if that even WAS him, scared me. That last line tells me that somehow, somethingās happening. And if no one does anything, maybe there would be consequences.
I stop at the front of Playtime Co., the largest factory this side of the state.
I get out of my car, take my supplies, trusty map, and the Grabpack. Somehow they let me have this. A keepsake of fun times, I guess?
I head inside, like going into the belly of the beast.
Summary: The Phantom Thieves participate in a little side quest: a heist at a shadow auction. Will they pull off the heist or will something go wrong? Set some time around Kaneshiroās Palace!
A short P5 AU fanfic! I apologize for the incoming Whumptober post spam and poorer fic quality. My schedule's quite hectic these days, so I'm going to try to keep up until Day 27 within the day.
ā..Going once, going twice, SOLD! Article 666-b goes to number 99. Sold for 60 million yen!ā
The crowd, mostly made of shadow people, sigh and moan as the buyer, in an elegant black suit and matching white mask, raises his buyer tag and bow. The crowds stand and part as the boxed item is taken back to a cart, a large, imposing shadow carrying it behind the large velvet curtains of the hall.
āThree, two, one. Time to take the show on the road.ā
Behind the curtains, a servant in an elegant fox mask nods as he wheels the cart with the box, moving in a labyrinthian corridor filled with pictures of faceless humanoids and ornate paintings of unspeakable and madness-inducing.
āProceeding to the meeting area. No encounters as of now.ā
Out of the shadows, a similarly-dressed servant with a red feline mask joins the fox in wheeling the box. They nod at each other, uttering not a word. They stop in their tracks as a large, heavy-bodied shadow with dark holes and a mask as a face looks at them, sniffing them all over, before nodding and melting to the wall.
ā..shit that was close! Hurry up, you two! This driver suitās making me feel uncomf-- what is this even made of? Fuckin.. Shadows!ā
āWell, if you didnāt insist on driving, you could have been inside the palace, dummy!ā
āShush, Panther. We have agreed to keep our peace and silence until we reach the door, yes?ā
The pair pass through a set of opened large, ornate double doors. They look at the ground to see two shadows twitching on the ground, slowly disintegrating. They heard footsteps behind them as an iron-masked guard stride by their sides, nodding at them. They turn corridors
āQueen here. Weāre almost there. Have any of you heard from Joker?ā
āNo. Heās supposed to be with us, right about now?ā
The trio stops in their tracks as they look around. The corridor isnāt the same as they initially entered. Could they have gone the wrong way..? The fox stops moving the cart and looks around for signs of enemy activity. But all is quiet..
āSkull, rev the engines.ā
āWait, where the hell are you guys?ā
āI donāt know! Weāre supposed to be at the entrance, but..ā
āAll weāre seeing is total darkness! And mist!ā
āJoker, are you there? Can you hear us?ā
Thereās dead air. The trio grows apprehensive.
āAlright, weāre circling back our tracks. Weāll just go back to the double do--ā
The feline mask stops turning the cart as she jumps back in surprise. A golden eye opens in front of her face, then another. The darkness becomes tangible, and the ground shakes beneath them. They were trapped. In front of them, a gargantuan monster with dark tendrils reaches out for the box. The iron-masked stands in front, taking her gun.
āFox, Panther, get behind me! Donāt let-- whatever this is, get near it!ā
The two nod. Then they feel another presence behind them.
āJoker!ā
The man in the black suit and white mask nods.
āWhat took you so long?ā
He takes out a hammer.
āWe need to open the box.ā
The ground shakes beneath them, and the box nearly falls out of the cart. The gargantuan shadow starts to scream.
āA-are you sure?ā
The white-masked man nods. He uses the hammer to pry out the nails from the crate, and a bright, blinding light emerges from itā¦
----------------------
Outside the auction hallā¦
āMreow! WHY DID YOU DO THAT, JOKER?ā
āWhy didnāt you tell us that that was inside? Damn it!ā
āWas thatā¦ā
āYep. Morning Star.ā
ā...So what happens now?ā
āAside from having blown up a full palace filled with rotten shadows? Nothing. But..ā
Thereās a thud inside the car.
āHEY! BE CAREFUL!ā
āOH MY!ā
āARE WE GOING TO BE RICH?ā
āHOLY SHIT! WE CAN PROBABLY GET SOME SUSHI FOR THIS!ā
In the dark of night, the Phantom Thieves exit and return to reality, mission complete.
