#thunderstruck writes

[thunderstruck-amanita]

Censoring the Actor

There once was a man who had acted

In a play, but he was so distracted

That when he stubbed his toe

Everyone did know

Because he had screamed out, “[REDACTED]!”

[thunderstruck-amanita]

I dream of firefly skies

Quiet evenings

Purring cats on blanket-warmed laps

Blinking stars

Creaking rocking chairs

Moonlight bathing the earth

Half-asleep in her soft, cool glow

Breathing in the fresh night air

I dream that the ones in the woods

Are silently watching

In awe

At peace

Comfortably placed

Not a shiver amongst them

Together but apart

We sit

We look

I dream of those nights

[thunderstruck-amanita]

waiting

i sit.

i wait.

time goes on,

days go by.

~

what do i long for

what do i wait for

my body goes forward

but my mind, it feels stuck

~

i have things to do

i know it is true

so why can’t i go

why can’t i move on

~

i sit

i wait

i wait...

i wait

[thunderstruck-amanita]

Prompt 18: "What's wrong with you?" For any fandom/characters you think work

“What’s wrong with you?”

Wilford stared blankly.  “Why, whot do you mean, old chap?”

Horror. There was horror in their eyes. Fear, too. When did all these people start living in the manor anyways? That almost made him laugh. Time didn’t exist, they always lived here and never did.

No, no, that was a different thought. There was another one, a more important one, a thought that made them think something was wrong with him. What here was important… The gun in his hand, smoking, still hot, perhaps. The people moving past him, carrying a limp, weeping boy. Eric. Why was Eric crying?

Red. Blood, probably. It was too thin to be ketchup or strawberry jam. Stains on the ones carrying him, on the floor, drip, drip, dripping from the limp boy as they went down the hall.  Where were they going? To the doctor? He couldn’t help.  He couldn’t fix it. Only Eric could. If only Eric would wake up.

But… wrong… he stared hard at the gun. Silver steel glinting in the light.  What was wrong with him? Nothing! It was just a joke… a surprise…

But that… that shouldn’t have made people angry, or scared. It should have made them laugh.

Dark placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping Wilford out of his reverie.

“My office. Now.”

Wilford, for once, didn’t smile, didn’t make a lighthearted jest.  He simply followed numbly for a moment, mustache twisted into a frown.

Why didn’t they laugh?

[thunderstruck-amanita]

Confession

For my @plancesecretsanta !!!

May you have a happy new year with wonder and joy! (and plenty of fluff between your favorite characters 💕

Pidge had bad posture.

She typically hunched over things out of habit or because she had important things to focus on, but her back suffered especially excruciating positions during finals week.  It was hard enough to finish her assignments, so self-care and safety from a future of back pain were the last things from her mind.

She adjusted her glasses and scrunched over her computer screen to input the data one more time.  Her head was pounding, though whether it was from pulling an all-nighter or from coming down from the amount of caffeine she had consumed in the past twenty-four hours. The code she inputted should be working by now, but she must have made some tiny mistake that was causing the whole thing to fail.  She ran a hand through her hair and groaned.  She didn’t have time for this.  She still had three other projects to work on for her major, and a stupid poem she had to write for an English class she would have avoided if she could. Pidge’s eyes were burning, and she wasn’t sure exactly how

“Hey Pidge!” a too-bubbly voice called from the hallway behind the couch. “Getting an early start on your work today?”

She didn’t have to turn to know that Lance was shaking the water out of his hair like a wet puppy.  They’d been roommates for a few years now, and while it was a bit awkward when he found out she was actually a girl last semester (boy’s dorms were unfairly cheap), they had soon settled into their usual routine.  Unfortunately, part of Lance’s morning routine included sprinkling her with excess water whenever he came out of the shower in the morning.

After his inevitable spray, she brushed off the water absentmindedly and continued to peruse her code.

“Nope.  Late start. I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

Lance passed into her field of vision as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast and took a glance at his smartwatch.

“… Pidge, it’s 7 AM.”

“I know.”

“… Pidge, you need to go to sleep.”

She rubbed her eyes.  “Eh, I’ll have time for that when I’m done with finals.  Or when I’m dead.  Whichever comes first.”

Lance grumbled something under his breath as he got a bowl of Lucky Charms and plopped next to her.  “You could at least take a nap or something.  You know, come back to it with fresh eyes.”

Pidge’s eyes were glued to her screen.  “No time.  Gotta find this mistake…”

Lance set his bowl on the coffee table with a clank and snatched the laptop from Pidge’s lap.

“Hey!” she screeched as he set it on the table, out of her arms’ reach. “Lance, don’t you dare close that laptop, I still need to save- Hey!”

Lance interrupted her by lifting her up in his arms.  If she wasn’t ready to fall asleep at a moment’s notice, she would have intervened.  But as it was, she let herself be carried to her room and launched into her bed.

Pidge spluttered as she fixed her glasses.  “Really, Lance? Was throwing me really necessary?”

He didn’t reply until he had procured a blanket and thrown it over her, taking off her glasses in the next moment as if he had done this a thousand times before.

“Yes.  Yes, it was.” He arranged the pillows comfortably and tucked her in.  Pidge felt her cheeks flush.  This was almost embarrassing.  “You need to sleep, at least for a little bit.  I’ll wake you up by 5 and that should be enough time for you to get it all done by Monday, yeah?”

Pidge hadn’t realized exactly how tired she was until she sank into the mattress. “Yeah,” she murmured.  Lance was about to get up, but he couldn’t leave. Not yet.  She reached out impulsively and grasped his finger.

“Lance?” she whispered, too sleepy to notice his flushed face.

He kneeled down next to the bed and turned so his face was next to hers. “Yeah?”

She grabbed his hand fully and rubbed his knuckles with her thumb. “Why’re you so nice to me?”

Lance waited for a few moments until he heard Pidge begin to snore gently, then reached out and brushed some of the hair from her forehead. “Because…” he started gently, careful not to wake her.  “You’re the most incredible, smart, dedicated person I’ve ever met.  You’re beautiful and when you love something, you shine like a thousand stars.  You know how to make me laugh, and smile, and you deserve the world.”

He leaned over carefully and placed a light kiss on her forehead.  He kept her hand in his for a few moments before finally turning away.

“Good night, Katie.”

The door closed and only then did Pidge allow her eyes to snap open.  She had fallen asleep immediately, but Lance’s icy cold hand had woken her up, and now… and now…

Pidge felt her face and ears burning.

Crap.

[thunderstruck-amanita]

a soul is a fragile thing

you only have one, you know

but it takes so much

it bears so much

there is so much world that beats upon it

so many things that weigh it down

be gentle with it

take care of it

do not neglect it

for the shiny baubles that betray it

guard your soul

but let it stretch its wings

you only have one, you know

[thunderstruck-amanita]

Wind, oh wind

Take me up and sweep me out

Scatter me and send me

Whipping through the air

Wild, fast, free

Send me high, high

So everything else seems small

Wrap me in a cool rush

And take my breath away

Until I land

Back together again

Hair thoroughly tousled

Heart slowing down

But fingertips remembering

The tingle of the cold

The feeling of freedom

As my feet touch pavement once more

[thunderstruck-amanita]

A Quiet Morning

More Eric Derekson fics!!!!

Because Eric is a sweet boy, Darkiplier is intimidating, and sometimes it’s nice to vent just a little bit, especially if the person you’re venting to is too nervous to tell you he’s scared of you... kindhearted

For reference, Regina is a horse that Eric owns based on the headcanons of the lovely @queen-virginia​ and her headcanons in this post

It was a quiet morning.  For now, at least.  Eric had been in the garden to watch the sunrise and got to chat a bit with George about the best types of fertilizer for hydrangeas.  Eric didn’t know all that much about plants, but at least now he knew that he would need phosphorous to encourage blooms.  Maybe he’d try his hand at gardening sometime.

After George left to continue working on the plants around the mansion, Eric enjoyed his hot Earl Grey tea as he tried to figure out the best routine for his and Regina’s upcoming competition.  Finding the best music and picking the right movements for the dressage was one of his favorite parts, and he couldn’t wait to show his beautiful horse all the plans he was making.

A rustling from the direction of the house caused him to jump, nearly spilling his tea all over himself.  He was starting to get used to this a bit more—at least he didn’t scream this time—but it still shocked him whenever Wilford came out of the house waving his gun around or the King of the Squirrels fell out of a tree and plopped right at his feet.  But this… this was perhaps a bit more shocking than any of his previous unexpected encounters with the other egos.

Darkiplier burst into view as he came stomping out of one of the many garden paths, his corporeal form shifting angrily now and again as he grumbled under his breath. “If I told you once, I told you a million times Wilford, I-” he stopped mid-rant as he made eye contact with the timidest of all the egos.  He waved his hand around. “I don’t want to talk to-” He paused.  “Wait, no never mind, you’re fine.”

Eric blinked as Darkiplier plopped on the patio chair across him with a huff, launching several projections of himself as he made impact.  Eric hadn’t talked much with Dark since he had gotten here. In fact, he had actively avoided him quite successfully until now.  The glitching and the severe pitch-black of his eyes terrified Eric, who was instantly much more stressed when he was in the leader’s vicinity.  Even now, he set aside the plans he was making in favor of his handkerchief, especially since he knew his hands would be shaking far too much to drink his tea.

He opened his mouth to say a quiet hello, but snapped his mouth shut when Dark continued talking.

“I try to be understanding, you know?  I upgrade to high-speed wifi because Bing and Google ‘can’t live without it,’ I give the King of the Squirrels a ludicrously large budget for whatever it is he needs for his precious subjects, and I cover up for every. Single.  Murder.  That Wilford commits.” Dark stabbed the table with his finger for emphasis before drawing his hand over his face, his outline more blurry than usual from his frustration. “And what do I get in return? Absolutely nothing!”

Eric nodded slowly, even though he was fairly sure that Dark wasn’t even looking at him.  “That… that must be difficult,” he responded softly.

Dark snapped his head up so quickly that Eric flinched again in his seat.

“It is,” he said as he stretched out a hand in Eric’s direction.  The relief in his face was overwhelming, and it looked like some of the projections were even melting a bit in gratitude.  “Thank you!  You understand, I do all these things, and I don’t even get an ‘ohhhh thank you Damien,’ or ‘oh, isn’t that nice, Damien.’  It’s always just ‘Dark, I need an upgrade.’ ‘Dark, why don’t I have my own TV show?’ ‘Dark this, Dark that, Dark, when are we going to stop with the dramatic lighting in here?’ It’s my study, and I’ll light it how I very well want to.”

He gritted his teeth together and the projections spiked once more, but Eric didn’t flinch this time.  He wondered who Damien was, but figured that that was a question for a different time.

“Well… well thank you for… for paying to fix up the stable for my horse… for Regina,” he whispered, feeling a bit guilty.  Had he ever thanked Dark for that? He couldn’t quite remember.

Dark’s projections went calm and he stared at Eric in surprise and a bit of confusion.  “Oh.  You’re… you’re welcome, Eric.  Just so you know, I wasn’t fishing for compliments, mind you,” he added.  The boy was more sensitive than a crystal vase in an earthquake, and the last thing Dark wanted was to rattle him around.  “You’ve never been any trouble since you’ve gotten here,” he assured him.  “In fact, I think the only words I’ve ever heard from you till this point have been ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’”  His smile was quite glitchy, but Eric appreciated the gesture and returned with his own wavery smile.  “It’s just that…” he sighed.  “You work so hard for a goal, an idea, a dream, and sometimes it’s… It’s hard to remember why you’re going through all the trouble.”  He glared at the mansion behind him, as if it held all the answers to the goal he had in mind.

As Dark began to brood, Eric just wrung the handkerchief in his hands thoughtfully.  Maybe Dark wasn’t as scary as Eric had originally thought.  Maybe he just needed to take a bit of time to himself.

“Would… would you like some tea? I haven’t drunk any of it yet, and it seems to calm me down when… when I’m having a rough day.”

Again, Dark looked taken aback.

“I… I would hate to steal your drink from you.”

“It’s… it’s fine!” Eric squeaked.  He wasn’t about to tell Dark this, but he was still shaking far too much to enjoy the beverage.  “It seems like… like you would enjoy it more than me right now a-anyways.”

And then Dark smiled.  It was kind, and warm, and almost entirely human.  “Thank you.”

Eric smiled back.  “You’re welcome.”

Eventually, the chaos would return.  Someone would be arguing about something, and the entire mansion would be filled with unlikely crashes and unrelenting bickering.  But for now, with Dark sipping a warm cup of Earl Grey tea and Eric scribbling ideas for his and Regina’s upcoming competition, it was a quiet morning.