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k-nayee · 2 months

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Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | i

wc: 1.7k a/n: currently obsessed with anything Ancient Greek right now - ESPECIALLY Epic lol. it technically picks up after the song, but if ya wanna here's the animation to it!

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You felt nauseas, sick with fear as you cautiously made your way through the stone corridors.

Distant clash of swords and muffled shouts of Greek soldiers rummaging the palace heightened your urgency.

With every turn, the looming threat grows: facing an enemy and their weapon stained with the blood of those you've grown to know.

"Lord Apollo...Please...let me be there in time..."you prayed silently, the image of Astyanax's sleeping face urging you forward.

Thoughts racing almost as fast as your feet, you nearly miss a group of men around the corner.

"Imagine the glory we'll have after this!"

Too caught up in conversation, they miss the sight of you slipping into a dark alcove.

"Praise? Forget that! I'm claiming the prettiest whore out of the bunch. You seen all we captured? Deserve some softness after all this."

Hidden in the shadows you're able to take in the blood splatters and dirt on their passing frames.

"You got that right! One thing I'll admit about Troy, they have some nice women..."

You shiver at their crude remarks and wait until their laughter fades into the distance before moving once more.

After a few more dodges and turns, you find the narrow passage and squeeze through.

There, you travel the secret route you'd discovered months ago having spent years exploring every hidden nook and cranny.

The weight of the glass feeding bottle in your hand is a constant reminder of the innocence you're desperate to protect, even as the world around you crumbled. 'I'm on my way Astyanax...'

Inside the walls with only the sound of your heartbeat and the distant chaos; a haunting, pain-filled voice echoes through the air as you near the babe's chamber.

"...I'm just...a man..."

Compelled by the unexpected softness, you peek through a sliver of space at the ornately disguised door (its decorations masterfully concealing its true nature).

There, at the balcony, you're met with the view of Odysseus. And in his hands he drops—

Your heart stops.

No, it shatters.

The baby prince, your charge, your little Astyanax, is...

A heart-wrenching gasp escape your lips, the forgotten milk bottle slipping from your hands to shatter against the stone floor.

Odysseus's head snaps around.

The warrior within him awakened instantly, his eyes narrowing and scanning the shadows.

"Who's there?" he demands, voice sharp and commanding as it sliced through the quiet.

Hand already on the hilt of his dagger, he draws it with a sound that promised death and begins the search.

His feet echoes on the stone floor, each step feeling like a countdown to your end.

The air around you thickens with tension, you struggle to breath against the fear that threatens to overwhelm you.

In hopes of blending in the shadows you press your back harder against the cool wall.

'Be still...Be silent,' you chant even as your heart frantically beat against your ribcage.

Not even daring to breathe too loudly: your inhales and exhales are measured and deliberate despite the panic clawing at your throat.

Memories of Lady Andromache's warnings swirled through your mind—of men turned monsters in the heat of battle, their souls stained with the bloodlust of war.

"The taste of blood...changes a man." Dark brown eyes, somber and knowing, stare into your own. "Leaves him with a hunger for violence that's never fully sated..."

Her words, a distant and cautionary tale you never understood, now rang with terrifying clarity.

With Odysseus so close, the fear becomes so palpable it wraps around you.

Your eyes clamp shut when his footsteps nears, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the impending horror.

Tears cascade silently down your cheeks in hot paths. There, you mourn not just for the young prince but for yourself and what may come of you.

Suddenly, the footsteps began to fade, leaving a silence so profound it feels like a scream in the void.

Minutes pass, each second an eternity spent in the clutches of fear. Then, there's a sound: the door closing—it cuts sharply through the stillness.

He left...

Relief washes over you, albeit tinged with the sorrow and shock of witnessing your charge's murder.

You wait. Counting each breath, allowing the minutes to stretch until it feels an eternity has passed.

No sound follows, no sign of his presence remains.

Emboldened by the silence and finally convinced, you allow yourself to move.

With cautious steps you emerge from your hiding spot and move toward the center of the room.

The need to escape, to distance yourself from this nightmare of death and close calls pushes you forward.

It's a relief short-lived.

Realizing the silence was a trick, it's already too late: arms encircle you.

The cold kiss of his dagger at your throat shatters any illusion of safety.

His body is pressed against your back, a wall of muscle and tension. You're acutely aware of him—the heat of his breath, the controlled movements, the slight shift as he adjusts his grip on the knife.

Your breath hitches from the terror and despair mingling in your throat, choking you.

"Not a sound," Odysseus whispers, his voice a lethal calm that contrasts the violent actions. "Now tell me: who are you?"

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Your life...choices...everything you had or could have depended on the mercy of the man who had just taken a child from the world.

Fear wars with desperation in your heart. 'Please...let this not be my end. I have so much left to live for...'

"P—please..." you stammer, the words barely escaping your lips. "I won't tell anyone, I swear it. Just let me go..."

"I said," he ignores your pleads, choosing to press the dagger closer for emphasis, "who are you?"

In a flash of desperation and unexpected courage, you act.

With a swift, practiced move born from hours of watching the palace guards train, you suddenly shift your weight.

Pivoting on your heel you wrench his arm away from your throat and use the momentum to twist his wrist; forcing him to drop and send the dagger clattering to the ground.

You jump back, chest heaving with exertion and the shock of your own audacity. You lock eyes with Odysseus who stares at you in stunned silence.

For a moment, he is visibly taken aback; eyes widening not just at the loss of his weapon but at the sight of you.

"By the Gods..." he murmurs, the edge of his battle-hardened demeanor softening as he truly sees you for the first time.

The fire of the torches cast a soft glow on your brown skin, making the stone of the palace around you seem even more dull.

Your hair is nothing he had seen before. There amidst the curls that frame your face, lays a bold streak of white that runs into the mass of hair.

However, it's your eyes that truly captivate him—they glimmer, a striking violet filled with an intensity of deep grief yet unwavering determination.

For a fleeting moment, the fierceness in his eyes dims as a cascade of thoughts sweep through.

Odysseus, a man who faced gods and monsters...

...a man who has navigated the treacherous whims of fate...

...finds himself lost in the mere mortal beauty before him.

In another life, he might have allowed himself to be drawn in; to explore your being and the depths of those violet eyes.

The fantasy flickers through his mind of what could have been, momentary indulgence if you will.

Yet, as quickly as it arrived, it is quelled by his love and loyalty for Penelope. The memory of her steadfastness and unwavering faith in his return casts a shadow over any fleeting desire he might feel.

Taking advantage of his internal conflict, you find your voice and interject. "W-wait! I mean no harm nor am I an enemy! I was just trying to survive."

Curiosity piqued, Odysseus gestures for you to continue.

"I come from land that's oceans away, taken against my will. Here, I became a servant for Lady Andromache out of exotic curiosity," Your voice steadies as you speak, gaining strength from the truth of your words. "But then my purpose evolved and I became the caretaker for the prince—a child now dead, through no fault of my own."

The Greek king could only narrow his eyes at you in assessment, voice regaining some of its earlier edge. "And why should I spare you? You are, after all, of Troy."

"Not by choice!" you counter quickly, the words tumbling out, "I am no citizen of Troy, bound by loyalty nor blood. My life here was never of my choosing. My only wish is to live a life beyond wars, serving as a pawn in the games of Gods and Kings."

A smile wry of acknowledgment touches Odysseus' lips.

"You're clever," he admits as the tension in the room shifts, becoming less hostile.

"But why should I trust you?" he probes further, bending down to retrieve his dagger yet making no move to use it. "You, who managed to disarm me?"

Your gaze held a weariness it almost felt bone-deep,, "I have nothing left. The same ambush that brought me here as a servant...massacred my family. The only wish I have now is to live a life of medicine, as my mother was and hers before her. My hands are meant for healing, not for war. Let me serve in your kingdom, and I promise, my loyalty will be yours."

Silence hangs between you two, thick with possibilities.

Then, slowly, a smile begins to form on Odysseus's lips; the first genuine smile he's probably shown in years.

"A barter, then. You propose your freedom for my journey home?"

"Yes!" your voice is firmer now, pushed by his response. "I have skills, knowledge that can aid you. Take me with you, and I swear to devote myself in ensuring your safe return to Ithaca without further misfortune."

Odysseus studies you for a long moment, weighing your words and the sincerity in your eyes. "You truly believe you can ensure my safe passage home? After everything?"

You keeping eye contact with him, the intensity of your gaze unwavering. "With all my heart..."

The quiet that follows is heavy with contemplation, with the unspoken thoughts that flicker behind his eyes.

Finally, he nods, a decision made.

"Very well. But know this," he adds, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "any betrayal, and it will be the last thing you do."

#k-nayee traveler #epic the musical #epic the ocean saga #epic the musical fanfic #jorge rivera herrans #the ocean saga #epic the musical x reader #greek mythology #greek gods #the odyssey #the odyssey x reader #epic: the musical #epic the troy saga #epic the cyclops saga #reader-insert #troy #trojan war #musical fanfic

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chincilla-on-the-moon · 2 years

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Work of Art

Request: hey there :0 recently found yr blog and i just wanna say yr writing is really good! i saw yr requests were “openish” so if this is an inconvenience then that’s ok and you don’t have to write anything :) but connor murphy w a male reader who likes to draw? and he draws them together in his free time? maybe babies connor a lot in private too? (^^*)if you decide to do this, ty! if not, that’s ok too! keep up the good work ♡🦑 Word Count: 498 Words Warnings: Connor being insecure Author’s Note: heyy...how yall doin... so sorry to the anon that requested this it took me a year and then some to finally write it and it’s bad... anyways... have a good day/night :) <3

You were sitting in the art room one day during study hall as usual when all of a sudden someone else came into the room

You were startled because usually, it’s just you and the art teacher this period.

A boy, probably another student judging by the style of his clothes, came in, nodded his head at your teacher as a greeting, signed in, and sat at a table on the other side of the room

He took out a sketchbook that looked very well loved with stickers all over the front and back covers

He could feel your eyes on him and looked over

You quickly put your head down and felt the tips of your ears grow warm in embarrassment

After that, the two of you drew in your respective sketchbooks silently

The period passed and you didn’t leave the room as you had actual art class next period but neither did the mystery boy

Once the rest of your classmates were settled into their seats, except for the mystery boy, Ms.Anne stood up in front of the class, “Hello Everyone! I hope you’ve all had a good day so far. As you can see we have a new student with us. This is Connor Murphy, he just started here so please help him feel welcome. Connor, you can sit at the table back there with Y/N.”

You felt your eyes grow wide, no one has sat next to you for the whole year why did that have to change now?

He searched for a minute before his eyes found yours

He came and sat down next to you and you decided to introduce yourself to make him feel welcome or whatever Ms.Anne said.

Surprisingly he responded and you two talked through the rest of the period and the rest is history.

He quickly became your favorite thing to draw

At first, you kept the drawings hidden in fear of him being creeped out but as you grew closer you eventually showed him the drawings

He cried when he saw them because he never imagined someone seeing him in a positive way like you did

Soon after you showed him the drawings the two of you started dating

You loved that you were now able to give him all the affection he deserved (never in public though because he had a reputation to uphold)

And now you could make him pose for all the drawings you want

He drew you on occasion but was insecure about his art even though you constantly assured him it was incredible

For your one-year anniversary, you drew Connor’s favorite picture of the two of you

Once he opened it and saw what it was he practically jumped at you to kiss you and give you the biggest hug

You two stayed like that for a while

For all your anniversaries after that you drew his favorite picture of the two of you from the last year <3

#connor murphy #connor murphy fanfiction #Connor Murphy x Reader #connor murphy fanfic #connor murphy headcannon #deh #deh musical #dear evan hansen #Broadway #broadway x reader #broadway fanfic #musical x reader #musicals #musical fanfic #Character x Reader #x reader #gender neutral reader

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milady-pink · 9 months

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Rosewood Manor

Summary: After finding Firmin’s body the guests are given three options of locations they can look for clues in.

Warnings: death, murder investigation, morbid talk, strangulation, no blood

Word Count: 2370 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Complete Series

AO3

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Chapter 5

“Game?! This isn’t a game, someone’s dead!”

Sorelli’s outburst caused the group to collectively shudder. They were standing around the ballroom, located in the center of the Manor; revealing Richard Firmin’s dead body. Poor Jamie, who found him, was still shaking while Christine tried to calm her down, putting her arm around her shoulders.

Raoul tried his best to reassure everyone. “Relax, no one is really hurt. Like the butler said, it's a game,” at the mention of his job title, Erik sneered ever so slightly, Christine thought she imagined it, “he’s probably in the next room breathing right as we speak. My guess is whoever figures out who killed him will win. Am I right?” At this he pointedly asked the masked man. He nodded before walking to stand in the front of the group, his back to the grand staircase. He looked downwards before setting his face straight, and disclosed how the game really worked.

“As I’ve mentioned at dinner the previous night, your host, Mr. Y, has invited you all to play a game of wits and intellect. For them, that meant a game of murder mystery solving. Just as the younger DeChagny brother has said, the winner will have solved who is the killer amount you; who is Mr. Y. If all of you are ready, I shall explain the process that follows the, ahem, finding of the body.” The chosen words caused an already shaking Jamie to quake excessively.

The group looked around to each other, questioning in their eyes if they wanted to know how this so-called “game” was played. But, seemingly hesitant, the guests jointly nodded that yes, they were ready to play the game.

“Well then. Whenever a body is found, three locations will be offered following. You can either choose to go to the morgue; to look at the body for further inspection into how the victim died. The victims last known whereabouts, in this case Mr. Firmin’s room. Or, if you should choose, the scene of the crime, in this instance that would be-,”

“-the library.” Squeaked an ashen Jamie.

Erik continued like normal, which for him would be icy, “yes, the office library. I shall give you all five minutes to decide where you want to investigate. You may not change locations once you are there. What you learn about the murder you may choose to share with the others, or keep to yourself. The choice is yours, and the best sleuth will be rewarded. Best of luck.” He finished the explanation as to what follows a murder with no emotion in his voice at all, which was extremely disturbing given the circumstances. Following his speech, the lithe, masked figure makes his exit, leaving a confused, and thoughtful group behind.

Christine didn’t know what to think of everything that has happened and unfolded up until now. For one thing, she knew without a doubt she would not be visiting the morgue. Seeing Papa was bad enough, I don’t think I can do it again. So, that left the crime scene or the last known whereabouts. Christine didn’t think there would be anything useful in Firmin’s room, so when Erik walked back to the group with two maids in tow, she chose the crime scene.

Back in the library, Christine tried her best to detach herself from the situation. She tried not to think about the fact that someone had been laying in the next room dead. No Christine, pretending to be dead. Real or fake, it was enough to irk Christine and get into her brain that something like that was seen as a game. A carpeted thud made Christine turn her head quickly, only to find Jamie picking up a book that she predicted Jamie had dropped. As for the other guests; Carlotta, Andre, and Piangi chose to explore Firmin’s bedroom, while Sorelli and Raoul willingly chose to go to the morgue.

“I’m kind of surprised you chose the library, seeing as how you were here first.” Christine said to Jamie, trying to walk on eggshells around the subject matter.

“Honestly, I just decided because you chose it. I-I think you’re pretty nice. And I know you better than anyone else here.” Shared the scared blonde, making Christine feel sorry for the girl. She quietly promised herself to help Jamie if she can, at least include her if alliances are made. Christine replied to her with a smile before arriving at the office door.

“Are you ready?” Christine asked, “I’m sure you could just sit this one out if it’s too much.”

“No, I’m ready. I don’t want to be useless and just sit by like a scared little girl.” Jamie replied, stealing herself.

“I’m glad to hear it, it's very brave of you.” Christine honestly told her. She grasped the door in her hand and pushed open the door.

The office was smaller than the library, a window to the left showcasing the front lawn and its elegant landscaping. In front of the window was a dark wooden desk, intricate designs carved into it, with a comfy-looking vintage office chair tucked in between. The walls were lined with books on shelves, similarly to the library, save for the wall across from the door the two girls currently stood in. It looked to be a large tv bookcase, with shelves empty save for a few statues, and one shelf with what looked like a safe; the door of which was open. Christine started walking over to the safe, with Jamie in tow.

“Hmm,” remarked Christine while looking at the safe, “we must have missed this when…th-the first time, that is.” Still trying to tread carefully, for both of them, as to why they were just now noticing the open safe.

“Do you think Firmin opened it?” Jamie asked, looking at her colleague with questions swimming in her brown eyes. “And if so, why didn’ he take anything else?”

She was right, Christine noticed. The safe was open, but there sat some pretty valuable items; three stacked gold bars, some neatly piled hundred bills, and scattered jewelry. Huh, why would he leave all that?

“That is weird,” stated Christine, voicing her puzzlement, “but obviously there was something that he deemed important enough to break open a safe for. Maybe something obscure?”

“Or personal, that it would only matter to him.” Put forth Jamie, brows furrowed thinking hard.

“Yeah, maybe. We can ask one of the people who went to his room if there was anything significant there.”

“Good idea. In the meantime, how do you think he opened it? Did he know the password? ”

“Hmm, let’s look around for more clues.” Ventured Christine, closing the safe door with a soft clink. Before turning around to start searching, Christine noticed a strange symbol near the safe’s dial. It looked like a large circle, with three smaller circles connected by the larger one, in the shape of a triangle.

Hmmm, wonder what that means

“Uh, Christine?” Jamie ventured. She turned to face Jamie, and noticed she was hovering over an open book sitting on the office desk. Christine sauntered over to see what her partner had found.

The book seemed to be about the psychology of human nature overall; including different religions and cultures of the past and present world. But the page it was left open on, was talking about the Bible along with good and evil. Then it starts talking about the philosopher Seneca and his virtues that define the human experience.

“It’s missing a page.” Jamie said, pointing at how the corner page numbers go from

347 straight to 349.

“Looks like it was ripped out.” Christine ran her finger down the torn paper left in the book. “I bet it had the code to the safe on it, or something close to it.”

After a few hours of rooting around for clues in their respective locations, the guests of Rosewood Manor regrouped outside on the patio. There was a table set up with sandwiches, pasta salad, and fruit salad, all plastered up. To drink was water or lemonade for the California heat. Everyone wandered outside for lunch and to, hopefully, learn some clues of how Firmin died. Once everyone grabbed some food, the mingling started.

Following getting some pasta salad and some fruit, Christine decides to take initiative and goes over to Raoul, the only other person she knows, and tries to get some information. Just as Christine was sitting down, Sorelli walked over to them.

“Hey Sorelli, what’s up?” Wandered Christine in a friendly voice.

“Nothing much. But, uh, can I join?”

“Join what?” Raoul questioned.

“You know, join your team. You guys are making an alliance, right?” She asked, with one of her dark eyebrows raised.

Looking at each other Raoul and Christine shrugged shoulders. “I guess we didn’t think about it but, yeah, I guess we could team up.” Answered Raoul, to which Christine smiled and nodded her head in response. She was happy to be in his presence again, making new memories in their young-adult lives. Hopefully after all of this madness, we can stay in touch.

“So, Christine, what did you find in the library?” Sorelli began, jumping right into the important stuff.

“Well me and Jamie…” She trailed off. At the mention of Jamie, Christine realized that she was sort of breaking the promise she made herself. So, she looks around the patio and spots one petite, wheat haired woman sitting by herself near Piangi, Carlotta, and Andre. Jamie looks downwards, with a forlorn look on her face, then up making eye contact with Christine. She smiles warmly and waves her over, which makes Jamie’s eyes go wide, only to stand up and quickly walk over. She took a seat next to Sorelli on the lounge chair opposite Christine and Raoul’s. What once was three, now is four.

“Hi Jamie, I was just about to tell these guys what we found in the library’s office. Now that you’re here, chime in if I miss anything.” Christine told her, wanting her to feel welcomed, to which she nodded. “So, as I was saying, Jamie and I found an open safe and a book with a missing page.”

“An open safe? What was inside?” Pondered Sorelli.

“There was some jewelry, uh, a lot of cash, and, get this, three gold bars. Like, real ones!” She exclaimed.

“Woah, that’s weird.” Remarked Raoul.

“Yeah, rich people are weird.”

“Well, yeah, that, but also the fact that he didn’t take anything.”

“Tell them about the book Christine,” added Jamie, “and the page too.”

“What book?” Questioned Sorelli, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“There was a book sitting on the desk, completely open, and the page that was there was ripped out.” Jamie spoke with such energy, seemingly like she bounced back from this morning, making Christine smile.

“What about you guys,” Christine asked, “what was the morgue like?”

Sorelli and Raoul shared a look, obviously with hesitance plainly visible on both of their faces.

“Well,” Sorelli started, “for starters it’s in the house.”

That shocked Christine, and clearly frightened Jamie. A moment passed as the two girls tried to figure out what that meant.

“I’m sorry, in the house? H-how?” Wondered a very confused Christine, asking because Jamie looked frozen in place.

“There is a morgue in the house, it’s down in the basement. That weird butler brought us down there and opened a door with, you guessed it, Firmin laying on a metal table wearing nothing but a blue paper gown.” She said in a grave voice.

“Yeah, his clothes were placed in bags on a metal cabinet next to the table.” Recounted Raoul.

“Did you check his pockets?” Christine asked, sitting on the edge of the chair.

“YES!” Exclaimed the two of them.

“I don’t remember what the text was saying,” Raoul went on, “but there was a page with a couple of symbols on them.”

This time, it’s Jamie and Christine who share a look.

“Can you remember them?” Inquired Christine.

“I do, but it might be hard to explain them.” Raoul answered.

“Maybe you could draw them!” Excited Jamie. “We can get you guys some paper and pencils and you can draw the symbols.”

“Okay, did you find something like that in the office?” Sorelli wanted to know.

“We did, on the safe. We think it might have something to do with how Firmin cracked the code and opened the safe.” Affirmed Christine.

After going back and forth with the various knowledge that the four of them shared, they came to a few realizations; one, was that Firmin was strangled after Raoul and Sorelli found dark bruising, ahem, makeup, around his neck, another was that Firmin broke into the safe for something that wasn’t the regular jewels and riches.

“I bet he hid the stolen item in his room.” Stated Sorelli, at which point she looked over at the other group.

“How do we find out what it was? I doubt those guys are gonna offer up clues willingly.” Retorted Raoul.

At that moment, Piangi got up from the small table and chairs that their group occupied, and went back to the serving table for thirds.

“I have an idea,” said Sorelli, “I’ll be right back.”

Sorelli made her way over to the sandwiches, next to Piangi, and looked like she started a friendly conversation. Almost as quickly as she arrived on the scene, Carlotta swooped into Piangi’s other side. She thread an arm through his, and started to pull him back towards the safety of their table. Sorelli came back to the lounge chairs with more lemonade, but no luck.

“That pompous peacock got to him before he had a chance to share anything useful.” Sorelli grumbled.

Throughout the rest of lunch, the four of them continued talking about finding some paper to draw the symbols that were on the missing page. They also discussed how they were going to get information about what was in Firmin’s room. All the while, eating and talking, Christine noticed that Jamie kept stealing glances at Sorelli next to her. Hmm, maybe a little crush?

All too soon, lunch ended and the group dispersed.

#phantom x reader #phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #erik destler #erik x christine #christine x raoul #christine daae #raoul de chagny #murder mystery #musical fanfic #andrew lloyd webber #gaston leroux #musicals

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thetisming · 5 months

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being a musical fan and also a writer is weird because you'll make it with one specific cast in mind and the fic just doesnt work as well if it's imagined with a different cast

#writer #writeblr #musicals #musical theatre #musical theater kid #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #musical fanfic

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copingchaos · 6 months

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There are ads here on tumblr as well. Tiktok is putting warnings on videos of people who are only mentioning what is happening in palestine. Instagram is deleting accounts of people who are reporting straight from gaza.

Biden questioned the number of deaths reported in Gaza, after which the health ministry came out with a report over 200 hundred pages long with personal information on the killed individuals.

24 journalists have been killed in 21 days.

Yesterday internet and phone services in Gaza went down, due to the heavy bombardments.

The voice of the people in palestine is being silenced in every way you can imagine.

So the least you can do, is share what is going on. Use all your platforms. Even this one.

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gleafer · 4 months

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A snippet from my 80s romcom comic that’ll debut on my Patreon/Gleafer this spring!

Girls just wanna have fun, yo!

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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all.

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”

Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

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melanthaeunomia · 27 days

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Do y’all ever reread an old unpublished fanfic you wrote and then get invested on the storyline but get sad because you never wrote the next part of it, just me?

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r3ynah · 2 months

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Family of Distinguished People.

So like what if, the Fenton family is just a family full of heroes, villains, and vigilantes. like.. just imagine a long line of people that had or has contributed to the world somehow. Like the Fenton parents as Supervillains, Jazz as a Vigilante, Danny as Hero. Dani just decides to travel not too interested, but does help with her family if needed, Dan does the same thing.

BUT WHAT IF joker is actually a close relative of the Fenton Family (ex. Uncle, Cousin,Family Friend) and like he's just there all happy with his (found)family during family reunions, birthdays and shit.

And the batfam are just like so confused and stressed to why the joker goes missing once a month.

While Joker is literally having a game of Monopoly with the elementary kids at amity park (the kids couldn't bother, they've saw scarier things they handled scarier things) cue Joker giving the kids a hundred dollars because he lost.

This is just one of my what if prompts, that i got locked up in a vault. Might delete this later who knows.

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sl-newsie · 3 months

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Normal people: look up an actor to see what other shows they've been in

Me: sees a hot character and immediately researches for fanfiction about them

It's an instinct now.

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sigillite · 2 months

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music (fanfiction) writing challenge!!

use your music taste to write a fanfiction or any story in this challenge!

first open your music app of choice and make sure your playlist is on shuffle -- then the first 5 songs that pop up will determine your:

Premise -- What your story is going to be about in the first place. What is going to be the main "selling point" of the story that sets it apart from the rest.

Main character -- Your main character's personality or inner struggle.

Main conflict -- The main conflict that drives your story and becomes an obstacle for your main character.

Vibes -- Is this going to be a light-hearted story? Angsty? Romantic? Whatever matches the vibe of the song.

Ending -- How this story is going to end.

yes, this is very vague, but that is the point! this can give you some ideas of what to write while also leaving plenty of room to be creative. feel free to switch up what songs represent what or even shuffle them a couple more times!

#fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #creative writing #writer #fanfiction writer #music writing #writeblr #writers and poets

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lizthewriter · 3 months

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messy / regina george

PAIRING regina george x fem!reader

SUMMARY you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.

TAGS regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)

QUOTE "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp

WRITTEN 1.13.2024

WORD COUNT 1.3K

A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."

slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.

she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?

you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.

you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.

"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.

"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.

"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.

fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?

you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.

you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.

"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.

when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.

a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.

"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.

"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.

the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.

you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.

when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.

"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."

"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.

"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"

"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."

"regina -"

"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.

"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."

"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#regina george x reader #regina george x you #mean girls 2024 #mean girls musical #mean girls #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #renee rapp #reneé rapp

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milady-pink · 2 months

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Will now and possibly forever use Mister Defoe as Erik faceclaim, thank you very much.

#phantom of the opera #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik destler #musical fanfic #andrew lloyd webber #gaston leroux #hamilton musical #dear even hansen the musical #six the musical #erik x christine #raoul x christine #nadir khan #mean girls musical #heathers musical #les mis #newsies

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tragic-vaudeville · 4 months

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realest ao3 note i've ever seen

#oh i want to clarify this was not on a depeche mode fanfic #i dont ship real people #yeah #depeche mode #80s music #post punk #new wave #80s #goth music #80s goth #goth #ao3 #text

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hazelsmirrorball · 3 months

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It's Not My Fault You're like In love with me or something | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: Y/n L/n new movie is opening new opportunities for her which means she has to do interviews were people can see her "lack of media training" and they start to doubt her relationship with Charles FACE CLAIM: Reneé Rapp pairings: Actress! Reader x Charles Leclerc a/n: I actually enjoyed the new mean girls movie and I am deeply in lov3 with reneé so here you guys go!

via twitter

y/nupdates via instagram

liked by username101, username23, yourusername and 1,390 others.

y/nupdates y/n leaving the after party after taking a tumble

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username19 now I know why Charles been mia she's literally making a fool out of herself

username123 mother

username12 ngl she ate with that fit

yourusername still can't believe that a fan account is the one that is exposing me

landonorris thanking the gods that the internet and Digital footprints is real

y/n via instagram

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,903,290 others

yourusername cast party baby! No one got hurt in the making of these pics

view all comments

username120 okay? but Charles wasn't there?

username19 The paps pictures literally put you on blast

pierregasly I think the moment you took that picture with the champagne was the perfect moment to stop drinking

→ yourusername just looking for the person who asked

username15 the girls are fighting. Please @charles_leclerc come get your girl

→ yourusername Come get your girl @pierregasly

francisca.cgomes you look so so beautiful

username192 Charles not commenting freaks me out

via YouTube

yourusername via instagram

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, arthur_leclerc and 2,302,290 others.

yourusername mean girls out in theaters now!

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username21 what? girl after that interview I would've turned the comments off

username12 don't you have media training or something

username19 her pr manager has to work harder than the mclaren one

username160 Mother

username12 it's so hard that the f1 fandom doesn't understand her humor

landonorris since my job isn't that hard Im taking a part time. What do we think about acting

→ yourusername I can send you an email. there an open cast call for dicks

via YouTube

yourusername via insta stories charles_leclerc via insta stories

yourusername via instagram

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, charles_leclerc and 2,292,220 others.

yourusername her lack of media training is outrageous

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username190 girlie I'm so glad you are self aware about how iconic you are

username12 the girls who get it get it

username14 pls the caption

username280 her lack of media training is what makes y/n y/n

username189 her lack of media training is why we love her

username18 I'm tired of people saying that when it's literally you being yourself. Has no one ever seen her broadway videos?

username19 People saying that Charles can't stand her? hello read the room

username159 exactly! they forget that Charles knows she's like this and that why he loves her so much.

→ username1821 your parasocial relationship is insane

charles_leclerc via insta

liked by landonorris, yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1,893,356 others.

charles_leclerc on wednesday I wear pink with the girl clumsy girl I feel in love with

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yourusername love you charlie

landonorris the movie wasn't half bad

arthur_leclerc stream sexy

comment have been restricted

...

Y/n turned to face Charles with a small smile adorning her lips. He mimicked her actions as he placed his phone in between the two of them. His hand slowly reached towards her face pushing the hair away to get a better look of her eyes.

“You don’t mind then?” Y/n asked softly her eyes never leaving his to notice if there was any sort of discomfort. He shook his head no, not breaking eye contact.

“What leaves me surprised is the fact that you think it would bother me. I know you already, I’m aware that sometimes people don’t get your humor but I’ve been long enough with you to understand it” He said slowly pecking your lips to calm you down. You let out a chuckle as you played with his hair.

“Actually, I was worried that you would have to worry about me beating your ass in F1” Y/n said, throwing her head back laughing. Charles playfully rolled his eyes pushing her shoulder softly, accidentally knocking her off the bed.

“Shit sorry!” he quickly got off the bed helping her off “but, you don’t even have your license, so I think you should stick to broadway”

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