This Fanfic Has Been The Only Thing I've Been Able To Focus On All Day. Holy Shit. It's So Good And I

Letters I write to myself from fictional characters part 2, Rowan Whitethorn Galythenius, TOG

Ash, 

       I don’t know why Aelin wanted me to write you this letter since you’ll be home soon, but here we go. 

       I love you. So much. In a brotherly way, of course, or Aelin would kill both of us. Just know i would destroy the word for you. And I would do it over and over again to get you back if you were taken from us. Whether that be death or just stolen away. I would destroy the world over and over again to get you back, no matter how long it took. We all would. Aelin, Aedion, Lysandra, the Cadre, the witches. Even Dorian and Chaol. We’d do anything to get you back if you were taken. Anything at all. 

      But you wont be taken, so you don't need to worry about that. We wont let you be taken, none of us will. 

       We miss you here in Terrasan. When you get back from your mission, Aelin wants to make chocolate cake and go for a picnic in the mountains with you. Aedion says you should rest, and frankly I agree, but you know how Aelin gets when she wants something, especially when it comes to you and chocolate cake. Let’s just hope you two don’t destroy the kitchen like you did last time

          I apologize that I couldn't send someone with you, but I know and acknowledge , that you like working, and work better by yourself. So yes, Aelin and Lysandra may have been mad at me for a bit, but i let you go alone. Just...please be safe on your mission. We’re all waiting for you to come back. 

                         -Rowan Whitethorn Galythenius 

                                   King of Terresan

BREAKING: Dracula has fallen down the stairs at the met gala

I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Edit: here's the visualizer for this piece

5 years he's been in hiding.

5 miserable years he's had to go by a different name, wear different clothes and tell a different story to everyone he meets. He's been James, Frank, he thinks he even went by Dustin at one point. He's had long hair, short hair, he's been bald. He had a beard for a while and taught music in a small music store, but he shaved it off after a week because all he saw in the mirror was Wayne, his uncle, his family, the man he abandoned.

For 5 years, he's been everyone but Eddie Munson.

The government told him he couldn't be Eddie anymore.

"Eddie Munson is dead." They told him; they even had the death certificate to prove it. "Don't come back to Hawkins. Keep moving. There are still people looking for you." Was the last thing they said to him before dropping him off with a wad of cash in some town he's never been to before.

He'd asked for the date at the front desk of a motel, and they'd told him April 20th. Eddie had crumbled down to his knees and cried, he'd cried so hard the motel clerk asked if she should call someone, asked if he was alright.

"I'm fine." Was his broken reply. He'd taken the key for his room, curled up on the uncomfortable bed, and didn’t move for days. He wasn't alright. He'd been in a government hospital for what he thought was a few days but was actually over a month and then released into the world like some rehabilitated animal. He didn't get to say goodbye to anyone. Fuck, he didn't even know if they all made it out of the upside down. All he knew was that he was alone. And that he couldn't go home. Ever.

He'd eventually gotten over himself and made some kind of life for himself.

It took him a few tries to find something that stuck, something that felt sort of like himself. Every few months, an ungodly amount of money appears in his bank account. The formal bank statement says it's from an estranged relative. Eddie knows it's not. He knows it's the government's way of buying his silence. His expensive rent and struggle to find a job is the only reason he doesn't send it all back to them.

He's lived in his current place for a year now, which is a new record for him, but he's got no friends. Well, he has acquaintances, people he can laugh with every now and then and go out for drinks with, but no one who knows him. No one who knows why he wakes every night screaming, no one who understands why he flinches when the lights in the bar flicker, why he hates the sound of people cracking their knuckles and why his hands shake whenever anyone mentions the scar on his face.

It's late at night when he's covered in sweat and his throat is raw from screaming awake from a nightmare, that he really misses his friends, his family, the people that he went through hell with. He's not allowed to call them, not allowed to send them letters or visit. He's not even allowed to know how Wayne is doing. It hurts. It hurts so much. He can't even look at himself in the mirror anymore because he's aged, and he's slowly starting to look more and more like his uncle.

But his friends are a little harder to escape, it's like parts of them have found him and are trying to haunt him, trying to remind him that he can't be a part of their lives.

Just last week, he walked by a book store and saw a brand new fantasy graphic novel on display in the window, 'written by Mike Wheeler & illustrated by Will Byers' was displayed on the bottom of the cover in gold letters. He's never bought a book so fast in his life. He's read it front to back 3 times already.

He can't even watch the news in peace because they were doing a news story about a small town basketball player who's made it to the big leagues and is winning everyone's hearts with his skills and bright personality. Eddie had cried and wished he'd been there to congratulate Lucas, wished he could have been there to tell him how proud he was.

Even Nancy is haunting him. Her news articles get delivered to his front door every day in the paper and most of the time the articles aren't even sad, but he cries at his small dining table alone, his breakfast cold and his coffee filled with his tears.

He misses his friends. He misses them so much and it's eating him alive. It feels like he's lying on the ground of the upside down all over again, tiny little mouths ripping away at his flesh except this time it's happening from the inside. Each time he's reminded how far away he is from his friends, a small piece of him is eaten away.

He doesn't know how much more he can take.

And then something odd happens. He gets a postcard and it's addressed to him, the real him; Eddie Munson.

The handwriting is hard to read and some words have been crossed out but the name signed at the bottom of the card pulls a sob from Eddie's throat and has him almost crumbling on his doorstep.

I'm sorry I took so long. I'll see you soon.

From Steve Harrington.

Joe Keery for WWD — August 2023

Creative writing inspired by this painting ^^ __________________________________

The creature was beautiful. The way it flew around the mountain tops was more majestic than anything the explorer had ever seen It’s pearl white scales seemed to shimmer in the moon light, and the stars were reflected clearly in its violet eyes, a feat that was visible even from the ground. The sight was mesmerising. The creature flew around the mountain tops looking like it hadn’t a care in the world, so unlike the people back at his home village. If it wasn’t for those people, the traveller wouldn’t have found this marvellous thing. Before, there had been no knowledge of this beast, but then one day, when the traveller was about ten years of age, a rumour spread about this beast with sapphire eyes, massive claws that could rip you to shreds in one blow, and a beast that could breathe blue fire. Those rumours spread quickly, but the traveller knew that the description was false, and so he set his life to find this creature, and now that he had, he knew that the rumours were false, and that this beast was one of cruelty and not one of cruelty. Oh, how he wished to go back and tell them how wrong they had been. But now, as he stood at the bottom of one of the mountains, the beast clashed eyes with him, and he knew he was ready to go to the next life. Maybe there will be more adventures awaiting me there, he thought as he laid down and floated into oblivion, content with how his life had turned out.

slipknot sounds like werewolf lube 

currently sobbing at the bus stop

"...You think things would have been different, if I'd been here?"

"I don't know." No, that's not true. He knew how it could've ended, maybe he would've ran away with Todd the night when his parents are asleep, or they could've called Mr. Keating to get them away. So many possibilities yet none took place. "Maybe."

They stand there, for another moment, the wind whispering across the ocean the only sound.

There's nothing left to say. There's everything left to say, and Neil's already wasted every chance to say it. It's too late for redemption, too late for forgiveness. Too late.

Todd's the first to move. He turns away, takes a step towards Charlie and the others.

Looks back, just once.

"Goodbye, Neil."

He doesn't respond.

He doesn't look back as Todd's footsteps recede, as the telltale hum of the portal spikes, once, and then falls silent.

They're gone.

He's alone.

"Goodbye," Neil whispers to the wind. --- pss @aedan-mills @impressedcauliflower @zeegy @inahallucination @nik-knacks

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind

Edgar Allen Poe