Littlemissfix-itfic - Little Miss Fix-it

Years have passed, and you no longer write letters to Santa, but still the peculiar, one of a kind gifts keep arriving. The gifts range from opulent jewelry that has a tendency to grow warm, and sometimes even white-hot, at random intervals to small seemingly custom-made stuffed animals of nightmarish creatures turned cute and cuddly. Every year, six gifts come, wrapped in a glowing, reddish paper that was always warm to the touch, just for you, labeled in number order: 60-66. And every year, you and your family ponder who the gifts are from, and if your family should be concerned. This year, as you sit around the tree, the gifts arrive, as usual, but something is different. This year, each parcel of unknown origin is still wrapped with care in the same, ever warm, glowing wrapping, but this time, the boxes are numbered differently. The first is labeled 66.1, and they follow in order with the last labeled 66.6, and that one has a key tied into the center of the large box with a lavish bow. The key is an intricate skeleton key, forged in a reddish metal, blackened by either time or design. Its artfully carved handle looks alive, with its winding serpent-like design, and the gems inlaid at the center of the winding mass, that form an eye. As you go about your Christmas morning traditions, the eye seems to follow you as you bask in the joyful holiday, the ever-present gaze of the key blanketing you in a strange sense of security. Eventually, you get to the special, almost reverent, moment of privacy that you partake in every Christmas morning. You collect the six warm boxes, and bring them into your room, settling onto the lush rug that you had received from your unknown proprietor in a Christmas long since past. You murmur your thanks to the kindness of whatever stranger offers you these gifts, and sit staring at them all at once unnerved by the change, and oddly comforted by the key’s watchful eye. As you sit, your feelings about the strange gifts at odds with one another, curiosity leaps at its chance to take the reins. So, you reach out, and carefully lift the first box, drawing its warmth into your awaiting lap, fighting the urge to draw the familiar warmth into you, much like a child would with a teddy bear. Running your hands across the familiar wrapping, you find the tapeless edge, and slide your fingers under the lip. With a gentle tug the warm paper gives way, and you find the same wooden frame, carved by deft hands into arching landscapes of a far off land that no amount of research can locate. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you see the artistry, your fingers reliving the comforting texture of each stroke of the craftsman’s blade. Opening the box, you find the gift, as thoughtful and unique as ever, and murmur your thanks to your anonymous friend. You repeat the process, each gift just as unique and ornate as the last, until you get to 66.6. This box was different from all the others that had come before it. This box's carvings were just as unique as all the others, but the landscape on each side arched and twisted until it gave way to a castle. One with a threatening throne, and a several devastatingly gorgeous men and women perched about the thrones on each side. The box itself felt… different. Something about it made your chest ache, like a fresh heartbreak, but that pain was mixed with a yearning for something you couldn't quite place. Before opening the box, you survey the gifts bestowed on you by your mysterious benefactor.

Should I continue this? Because I definitely have more planned… (read written) I just hit the text limit hehehe…

When you were a child, you accidentally wrote a letter to Satan instead of Santa. Now, every year for christmas you get presents from the lord of hell himself.

Watchergate: 4/19-4/22

DBSBSUIEIEH BOKUTO WITH PLDER SISTERS BRAIN ROT IS BACK SHDHEIEI AS SOON AS IM NOT FIGHTING WITH DEBILITATING WRITERS BLOCK THERE WILL BE SO MUCH SHIT I HAVE TO SAY

something so important to me for no reason is that msby 4 all have siblings !! but also they must have WILDLY different sibling experiences and relationships. like atsumu is of course a twin, hinata is the an older bro, bokuto is such a younger girl brother, and this isn't really confirmed but i always think sakusa's older siblings have a big age gap with him. so sometimes one of them will be like "only people with siblings understand" and they'll all collectively agree. but sometimes one of them will be like "oh you guys have siblings you get it right" and the others are like what the actual fuck are you talking about. like atsumu's the type to be like "lol me and samu chased each other around w a knife yk sibling things ! " or mention twin telepathy and the others are like no what. hinata is the only one who gets what it's like to be an older sibling (atsumu interjects that he does too since he's the older twin but he's full of shit). bokuto and sakusa being so obviously the youngest child. atsumu knowing absolutely nothing about women and bokuto knowing the most.

gotta immortalize

Things AO3 is according to this hellsite:

- My husband (still at war)

- My wife (lost at sea)

- My beloved (in a coma)

- Gone forever (will be back in a few hours)

dumb thing i never posted

The lords work

We did it!

1,000 works.

As we reach the edge of camp, the awkward hush fell back over our party’s usual loud, tittering banter. Huffing, I finally come to terms with the rest of the party has finally come to the same conclusion that I’ve kept to myself for nearly nine months now, Kyle was replaced, by what is likely a changeling, but the thing is, whatever whomever has replaced him is so much more enjoyable to be around, and a much better team player. Not to mention they’re ten times more efficient than Kyle ever was. But, it’s time to have the conversation I’ve been avoiding all this time. Grabbing “Kyle” gently by the shoulder, I stop us on the outskirts of our camp.

“Hang on a minute, Kyle. There’s, uh, something I’ve been avoiding talking to you about, but I… uh… I think it’s time to rip the bandages off, you know?”

“I really don’t… Ayelleshya, is everything okay?”

“Well, it’s just,” I sigh, bracing myself for the conversation. “I’m just going to be blunt, but you gotta let me get through everything, and I mean my whole spiel, before you jump to conclusions, or get mad, or anything. Do we have a deal?”

“I.. well, it really sounds like I don’t have a choice, but… we have a deal.”

“Good. So, uh, I guess I’ll just dive in. So, I realized a while ago that you’ve been acting kind of uh… out of character.” I hesitate, trying to gauge the reaction on Kyle’s face. “But I think the rest of the party has finally caught on and I just… well, Ithinkthatyoumightnotactuallybekyleanymoreandijustwantedtosaythatthatstottallyokayandweactuallypreferyoutokyleandifyouwantedtojustbeyouinsteadofhavingtopretendtobehimthatdbeokaywithusandillevenhelpyouwiththetranditionifyouneed!”

“What was that last part?” Kyle’s face twists with confusion, while his voice lets out the kindest version of confusion I’ve ever seen from him.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, “So I think that you might not actually be Kyle, but that’s okay because we totally prefer you to him, and if you just wanted to present as yourself or as not-Kyle, we’d be okay with that, and I’d be more than happy to help you with that transition however I can…” I trail off, not sure what else to say.

“Oh…”

My throat seems to seal itself shut as I choke on my anxiety, nervous that I’ve hurt not-Kyle’s feelings. Mentally scrambling for something to say as damage control, I stare at them dumbly, opening my mouth only to shut it as they speak again.

“Thank God!!! I was dying pretending to be such a worthless asshole all the time! I mean, it’s just so not me!” Not-Kyle babbles, shifting into their own skin with a flash, and offering their hand for a shake, “the name’s Chatelle, I’m a changeling from New Port Harbor.”

“It’s nice to finally formally meet you, Chatelle!” I greet with an excited grin, delighted at the way that Chatelle lights up in their own skin, “might I ask what pronouns you use? I want to make sure I reintroduce our newest addition to the party correctly!”

“Oh! I use any pronouns, but if it’s easier to just pick one, they/them works perfectly fine! I’m so excited!! I’ve been so stressed with how this has been so obviously messing with the group vibe!!”

Through a series of events you find out that your party members have all been replaced by a mimic, a skinwalker, a changeling, and a shapeshifter. You don’t bring up that you know this however as they’re a lot nicer and more efficient then the ones they replaced.