Very stressful day today thanks to passive aggressive emails from a professor. Still thinking about that hours and a mental breakdown later
What if I wanted to write and auto ethnography but inspired by Anne Carson’s work autobiography of red?
Me: “I’m not writing for ectoberweek this year I’m too busy” Also Me: 🤡 🤡 🤡
Ectoberweek 25: Headstone Characters: Danny & Valerie Genre: Hurt/Comfort WC: 1598
read on [ao3]
---
“You’re not even a little bit grateful?” Valerie asked, her leg dangling off her hoverboard and foot just barely brushing against the grass. “I would have thought you were eating up the attention.”
Phantom stood stiffly next to her, his green eyes fixated on the rock before them.
“You really don’t like it? Not even a little bit?”
“It’s not like that.”
Valerie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Phantom, you didn’t even show up to your own goddamn memorial service. I kept standing there in the crowd thinking you were gonna pop up at the last minute with that cocky attitude and stupid hero voice, and then you didn’t come. Figured you were busy, but you weren’t, were you? You just really didn’t want to come.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he said sharply.
If Phantom hadn’t been acting so weird, Valerie would have been taken aback. But he’d been overly sensitive all week, ever since the announcement of his very own headstone and memorial service. ‘To give him a place to rest,’ the flyer had said. ‘To honor our town hero.’
Of course, Valerie wasn’t stupid, and it wasn’t like Phantom was being subtle. But whenever she tried to reach out and talk to him, the ghost would shut down and fly off.
So now she was forcing him to talk the way she knew best.
By pissing him off.
“You know, everyone was trying to do a nice thing for you. You remember being nice? The human emotion? You remember that one?”
“Hilarious.”
“Not as funny as you bailing on your own goddamn funeral.”
Danny’s eyebrows creased. He crossed his arms and glared at the headstone. “I didn’t bail. I was never going to show up in the first place.”
“Because that makes it so much better.”
His head snapped over to Valerie, the trance broken. He flared his aura. “Why do you even care if I showed up to the memorial or not? It’s my freaking memorial. I can do whatever I want.”
Now they were finally getting somewhere.
Valerie deactivated her hoverboard and hopped onto the ground. She set her shoulders back, retracted her helmet so Phantom could get a real nice look at her face, jabbed her finger at his chest, and said, “In case you haven’t noticed, ice cube, you’ve been acting a mess all week. So start talking.”
Phantom’s glare never wavered. “It’s complicated.”
“I have time.”
“It’s a ghost thing.”
“No shit, dumbass.”
“It’s stupid.”
“So tell me anyway.”
Phantom paused, his glare melting into a look of pure confusion. “Why do you want to know so bad?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Valerie let her arm dangle by her side. “It’s because you’re my friend, you idiot. You’ve been acting so weird and mopey and it’s not like you. You’re not...whatever this is.”
“What, you thought you could just make me talk by...by...annoying me to death? Part two?”
“Hey, I was nice to you all week and it didn’t do shit! So excuse me for taking matters into my own hands. If you wanted to be coddled, you should have gone to someone else.”
“Oh.” Phantom’s expression softened, and the corners of his lips twitched up. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hands, his aura dimming shyly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was being that weird.”
Valerie gave him a light punch before lowering herself onto the damp grass. Flowers decorated the green around them, coloring the Earth with the touch of hundreds of strangers from all around Amity.
All from people who cared about him.
Who cared about Phantom.
She brushed some flowers away and patted the empty space next to her.
Phantom hesitated for only a moment longer before slowly lowering himself to the ground, crossing his legs as he sat. He slumped down, looking positively exhausted. His hair was messy, bags decorated the skin under his eyes, and his shoulders hunched forward in such a way that seemed completely alien to everything she knew about him.
“What’s up?” Valerie asked.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate all...this. Because I do. I know that the town didn’t have to do this, they didn’t have to spend this money on me, they didn’t have to hold a whole memorial service and vigil for me, they didn’t have to leave all these flowers and gifts. I know that their hearts were all in the right place, and on some level I really do appreciate it.” He picked up a white rose and twirled it in his fingertips, looking at it with a forlorn expression.
“I remember back when I first started out. People hated me—I mean really hated me. Remember that, three years ago?” He turned to her. “You used to hate me too.”
“I remember.”
She had been such an angry girl back then. Her mind had been in such a dark place. But slowly she got herself out, she stopped seeing ghost hunting as a means to an end, she started living for the sake of living and hanging out with friends again because she wanted to and she cared about them and it was fun.
“Yeah…” Gave her a small grin as if he knew what she were thinking. “Those were the days, huh?”
“But things are better now.”
‘They are.” Phantom turned his attention back to the flower. “They’re so much better. And I’m...I’m not ready to give that up. Not yet.”
Valerie’s brain came to a screeching halt. “What are you talking about?”
He sighed and set down the flower. “I don’t want to give all this up, I don’t want to move on. I like being here, I like protecting the town. I like ghost fighting with you. And the memorial...it just feels weird. Like the town was saying goodbye. But I…”
Oh.
Valerie understood.
Phantom thought they were trying to force him to move on. To dissolve, his soul freeing itself of its restless attachment to this Earth. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“That’s not what they were trying to say to you,” she said.
“And I know that! I do. Deep down, I know. But...it’s a ghost thing.” His voice was small. “Valerie, I’m...not a normal ghost. I never got a funeral or anything, my parents don’t even know I’m dead.”
Valerie felt like her stomach was plunged into a pool of ice.
She was silent, not even daring to breathe. In the years she’d known him, Phantom had never opened up about his past like this.
And she’d be damned if she broke the spell with her own stupid mouth now.
“I died in an accident, and there was no body to recover. They don’t know the truth...and...I...I’m not ready to face it. I was a nobody before I died, just some stupid kid who was the dumb one in a family of geniuses. But now...now I feel like things are finally getting good for me. And I don’t want to face the past. Not yet, anyway. And this whole memorial thing, it just sent me back there. Back right after the accident and me watching my family and not knowing how to tell them that I’d...you know…”
He let out a shaky breath. “All those questions that I’d had and forgotten about, now I’m reminded about them. What if I told them the truth? What if I finally faced my fears? But I just can’t.”
Valerie nodded. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not okay.” His head fell into his hands. “I’m such a fucking coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“I am. It’s selfish. I’d rather play hero than tell my fucking parents—” His voice cut off. He sat there, his fists clenched in his hair, his breathing loud against the night.
Once, Valerie had asked him why he breathed.
He didn’t give her a straight answer.
“You’re not a coward, you’re just not ready. That’s fine. If things are finally getting good for you, maybe you need to do this part of your afterlife first. Maybe you need to experience all this first before you’re supposed to go back and get closure.”
“Maybe.”
“The town was just trying to say thank you, I promise. I know the committee didn’t mean anything more than that. They just...didn’t know how to honor you properly, I guess.” Valerie looked over at the headstone shining in the moonlight, decorated by flowers, stuffed animals, and other offerings around it. “I’m sorry that this hurt you so much.”
“It’s fine. I just got wrapped up in my head.”
“Still, I’m sorry. And you know, you could have just told me why you didn’t want to come to the memorial in the first place. I wouldn’t have judged you for it.”
Phantom snorted. “Because you’re so non-judgemental.”
“Yeah, whatever, Ghost Boy.” Valerie leaned back. “But I’m serious, you’re my friend. You don’t have to bottle this shit up all the time, you know? You can just talk to me.”
Phantom lowered his hands, curling his arms around his legs and dropping his chin onto his knees. “I know. I just suck at this whole friend thing.”
“So do I. But Phantom?”
“Yeah?”
Without missing a beat, she placed her hand on Phantom’s shoulder, suppressing a shiver as the cool aura of fresh snow and ice wrapped itself around her arm. “Whenever you are ready to tell them, let me know? I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”
---
[read more of my work]
Ship: Tony Balerdi/Tyler Rake
Fandoms: Burnt (2015) and Extraction (2020)
Warnings: none for this part.
Tony isn't sure what wakes him. The sun hasn't yet risen high enough to shine through his curtains, and the staff know not to disturb him until he's dressed, groomed, and ready. The story of his panic after he was seen with bedhead had spread through the hotel like wildfire, and Tony had considered quitting. If his fear of appearing weak in front of his father hadn't been stronger than his fear of appearing weak in front of his employees, he might have. But it had, and so he didn't, which was why he is still very much in charge of the hotel as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes until they fall on the brightest source of light in the room. The tablet flashes at him, telling him of an urgent message from, huh. Instead of a sender's email or phone number, there's just a string of ascii characters. Tony taps the screen, a frown on his face and his heart in his throat. This was Tyler's tablet, and the man had so much difficulty learning new technology that he had begged Tony to hold on to it until he came back. And even though Tony knows it's futile, that Tyler will never come back, and that the tablet was outdated even before Tyler had left, some part of him still hopes it isn't broken. He taps the message, starting to cry when all that came up is another set of nonsense characters. It's ridiculous, it's just a tablet, but he can't help but feel like he's letting Tyler go yet another time. Blue smoke starts rising from the spots where his tears hit the screen. He wipes them off the tablet, then his eyes, and when the smoke clears, the characters shift. NO TONY DON'T CRY Tony sits bolt upright. "Tyler?" he whispers in disbelief. There's no response, and Tony knows he's being irrational. Still, he pulls up the keyboard and types his husband's name. Tyler pulled him out of his self loathing with nothing but exhaustion and sweat, the least he can do is hold out hope for just one more miracle. There's nothing. Tony hangs his head. And then. TONY I LOVE YOU PLEASE FREE ME
Imagine Star painting the boys nails.
Marko would ask first— he would see her painting them and it would stick in his head. It would take him a bit of hovering around her, and then she would simply pat the bed next to her and grab his hand.
Paul would be next. Marko would wave his nails in Paul’s face and say “Jealous, Paulie?” He would roll his eyes before sneaking off to ask Star to do his “cooler than Marko’s.”
Dwayne wouldn’t ask, but he’d let Star paint them— if only to make her smile. He’d end up really liking them though, and whenever he sees a color on the boardwalk he thinks she’d like, he’ll grab it for her.
Michael’s the most tentative, but he’s also willing to try it at least once. He starts out with just his pointer finger black, but he likes it more than he expected. His favorite color to wear is dark blue.
David rolls his eyes at first, but begrudgingly agrees to let her do it after they all goad him into it. He mostly wears black because he thinks it’s classic, but occasionally he’ll wear a blood red for some flavor.
Just them all hanging out in the hotel and painting each other’s nails and listening to music :’)
(This was heavily inspired by @wearewyldstallyns post about marko painting his nails)
His name, I know his name—
It’s silently spoken each morning as I pass him through the doors;
He looks at me, I look at him, and he says my name like friends do;
The rush of rose in my cheeks matches the flutter of my heart,
And I scream his name in my mind;
Only the word that announces itself is not it,
but a brief greeting that sounds pitifully weak.
His name, I know his name-
Days 21+22: Impact and Discovery
Prompt from @oc-growth-and-development
Last one (probably) of the day. Gonna try to catch up soon but I make no promises to anybody lol. On with the excerpt!
Ember turned at the sound of footsteps to find Caspian and she couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said with a grin.
“How are you always in the wrong place at the wrong time?” she asked, turning back around. “Or in the right place at the right time.”
Caspian came to stand next to her. “I can’t imagine what you mean,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.
“I just mean that it’s curious,” Ember said, turning to watch for any impact her words might have. “You somehow manage to find me when I don’t want to be found.”
Caspian glanced at her sidelong. “And how am I meant to know you don’t want to be found?”
“No one out and about at these hours wants to be found.”
Caspian finally turned to face her. “And why don’t you want to be found, Princess?” he asked, his voice low.
“Why don’t you?” Ember retorted. “What are you hiding, Caspian?”
“What are you?” he shot back. “What don’t you want discovered?”
“Clearly I’m not the only one with secrets to keep,” Caspian said after Ember didn’t respond. “Usually prying into other people’s secrets encourages them to pry into yours, you know.”
Ember narrowed her eyes at him. “Was that a threat?”
“No, of course not,” he denied. Rather unconvincingly, Ember thought. “Merely an observation.”
“An observation,” she repeated.
“Precisely.” He inclined his head to her. “I think we ought to leave this here for tonight. Good night, Princess.”
Ember watched him leave, heart pounding in her ears. All of a sudden, she felt incredibly unsettled. Caspian made a strong point. So long as she was keeping secrets of her own, she had little to no ground to stand on when asking about his. Or anyone’s.
God that post really blew up
People keep reading it as "country" though, not county.
Also like every Midwest state has been named in the tags. Get gud plains states :/
besties help i can’t stop thinking about my hanahaki ocs...
I find you in the soft places between the hard moments. When the day is long and cold and I am looking for the warmth of your love, I close my eyes and remember. I remember that your kiss is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I remember that your eyes pull me into their depths and I am not afraid of drowning there. I remember that your touch is always gentle, always sincere. I remember that your love exists, it is real, and that what I once thought to be a dream has become reality. I find you in the soft places within me, and outside of me. Where the fires of love light up the night. Where the cold winds can’t chill me to my bones. Where there is room in the fields for the wildflowers to bloom between your heart and mine. I find you in those places. And so many more. Because you are with me, always.
Project “you’re allowed to write fanfic but only if it’s longhand” continues! I wasn’t going to include a transcript, because I felt shame, but AO3 just sent me a very nice comment on something, so for the sake of posterity the transcript is below the cut, BUSILY PUTTING THE “EXPOSITION” IN EXPEDITION... 🤪
“Given our present… staffing issues, my captain requested we multi-task. Diplomacy, science—”
“You guys are getting into oceanography?” Renji asks.
“Pet project,” Akon replies. “But no. If the 46 were gonna fund something like that, they’d have done it millennia ago. It’s not like the ocean’s new.”
“Kurotsuchi’s just curious about his zombie cure. Wants to do a stress test, see if we keel over,” Muguruma interjects.
“He’s of the opinion we owe him longitudinal data,” says Rose. It’s the first thing he’s volunteered, aside from a curious eyebrow raise Renji had volleyed right back. It’s not as though he knew why he’d been assigned this mission, either.
The rest of the team was beginning to make sense now, though. These were the one’s who’d been zombies--the ones who’d survived, in any case. Survived and miracle-cured, ostensibly.
So Rukia had at her disposal a handful of ex-zombies, Hisagi, Akon, and him.
“Kurotsuchi believes he’s owed a lot of things,” says Hitsugaya, briskly. As if in answer to Renji’s tallying gaze, he adds, “I think it’ll be fine. And irrespective of that, this is a diplomatic mission.”
“At which the Gotei 13 so excels,” Rose appends, and Renji thinks it’s possible that Rose and Kira must have been spending a not insignificant amount of time together lately. Renji would know that affect anywhere.
read on Ao3
When Buford finds Baljeet asleep at his desk, he isn’t sure what to do about all of these surfacing feelings.
--
“Hey, ‘Jeet. I got your math thingies,” Buford says, carrying the protractors he had gotten from one of the math teachers. He expects to hear an annoyed sigh and to be corrected on the term ‘thingies’ but instead there’s silence.
Baljeet is slumped over the library desk, pencil still in hand, papers scattered and books still open. His shoulders rise and fall evenly with each breath, a cheek squished against his arm as he sleeps.
Buford is frozen, unsure of what to do.
He supposes this was inevitable. Baljeet works too hard, especially now, being only fifteen and having a college workload. Not to mention all of the extra things he does to keep his brain stimulated. All of those seminars and camps, it’s hard for Buford to even remember, let alone imagine doing .
And yet, Baljeet does. And Buford wouldn’t admit it, but he admires that about him.
Carefully, he sits in the seat across from the other boy, not daring to take his eyes off of him. It takes him that moment to realize he’s never seen Baljeet so relaxed before. It’s a welcome sight. They had grown out of the whole ‘frenemies’ thing as they got older and just decided on friends, though if he were being honest, Buford thinks he always considered Baljeet his friend, he just hadn’t been able to articulate it as a kid.
Something about him here, laying across this desk, his hair a mess and his cheek squished into his arm, made Buford’s heart skip a beat. It’s like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be, but for some reason, he can’t look away. He thinks about the smile Baljeet always gives him when he helps him study despite knowing none of the content himself. He thinks about his laugh and his attempts to ‘be cool’. His gaze trails toward the outstretched arm for a moment.
I wanna hold his hand.
His cheeks flush, and he looks away in surprise of his own thoughts. He’d been having a lot of thoughts like this recently. They terrify him more than anything else in the world.
Stupid nerd. Stupid, stupid, handsome nerd.
Luckily, the library is empty at this time of day, so Buford doesn't have to worry about being caught blushing, or even worse, staring. Realistically, he knows he ought to just shove Baljeet awake and take him home, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when he looks so exhausted. Not when he looks so peaceful.
Buford exhales. It’s perfectly logical to just let this happen, right? He rests his chin in his hand, watching Baljeet quietly. He wants to remember this moment forever, despite the slight panic building up in his chest. These feelings, whatever they are, are to be processed later. He wants nothing to do with them now.
He isn’t sure how long he sits there. Frankly, he doesn’t want to know. Surely any length of time would be embarrassing. Eventually, Baljeet begins to stir, and Buford looks down, pretending that he was doing homework of his own. “…Buford?” Baljeet’s voice is scratchy, and when Buford looks up, he sees his cheek red, hair messy, and looking completely disoriented. Nothing like the put-together nerd he knows so well. “What happened?”
“You fell asleep, nerd,” he says, mostly endearingly. “Felt wrong to wake you up, so I just stayed here.”
Baljeet blinks, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. “Were you watching me sleep?”
He can feel the blush creep up his neck and he slams the book closed, getting up quickly in the hopes that Baljeet will not notice it. “No! Whaddya take me for?!” he huffs, tucking the book under his arm. “C’mon, let’s get you home before you pass out again.”
Chuckling, Baljeet begins to pack up his things, and together they exit the library, quiet. It’s only after a few moments that Baljeet speaks up again. “Buford?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For letting me sleep. I did not realize how tired I was.”
Buford rubs the back of his neck. “You gotta lot on your plate, ‘Jeet. But you also gotta take care of yourself, too.”
“Wow. Genuine advice, and it proves you care. I am proud of you.”
“Don’t patronize me, nerd!”
Baljeet laughs, and Buford feels that flutter in his heart again. He fears he may have to confront those feelings a lot sooner than he is expecting.
But as Baljeet begins talking about his work, his whole face lighting up, Buford relaxes, and he thinks maybe it’ll all work out somehow.
Summary:
Lumine stares at Axl for a long, tense moment, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disgust. “I don’t understand you,” he says. “You would really choose those old generation robot relics-” he gestures to X and Zero with an angry flail- “over us?” He shakes his head in clear disbelief. “You’re a new generation Reploid just as we are, your place is with us!”
“My place is with the Hunters,” Axl says firmly.
hello beloveds i come bearing gifts. i finally caved and wrote a lil frenrey fanfic
Can you name a favorite scene(s) from one of my fics? (Or maybe not favorite, maybe something that made you really sad or mad, but either way, it’s one detail that stayed with you?)
