#I’m listening to dramatic c-drama while drawing this

[m0oncak3]

Dr Jack Bright is my mental stability.

The hand is inside out but idgaf

[arminsumi]

hiii ^^ (It’s me again, sorry that I’m writting so many request but the way you wirte is something)

so, i have been thinking if you could wirte pt.2 for ,,Marley’s Guaradian” — and if you dont have any ideas, honestly I have one — so basically Armin brought reader to the aircraft, and Levi is obviously upset with him. while they are having a little argument, where Armin tries to explain Why did he brought someone so dangerous here, reader tries to knock out Eren, since he has the Founding titan, and Marleyan Army wants it back, Armin obviously stop reader before anything serious happens + reader finds out about Zeke’s betrayal

sorry if It’s too much, i’m sending you virtual cup of motivation and thumbs up for whatever you are working on! take care and dont push yourself too much!

p.s. i wirte the request again beacuse something went down with my Tumblr — if you see another one from my acc with the same text you can ignore it, beacuse i dont know if i actually sent it ^^

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Marley's Guardian Ⅱ

Armin x fem!reader / part Ⅰ

Overview; Armin brought you back to the airship and you found out the truth about your War Chief.

Content; drama, angst, canon!au, Marleyan!reader, switching sides (obeying Armin's commands)

Warnings; S4 spoilers!!! mild violence (hair pulling, Levi giving verbal threats, reader scratching Eren and drawing blood), profanity, S4 Sasha scene, total cliffhanger ending because i'm mean lol

Note; ah dw i love to receive your requests! actually i originally planned to write about armin bringing Y/n back to the airship, but i wasn't sure on the length so i just deleted like two paragraphs' worth of content 😂💀 also SRRY IF THIS IS AGONIZINGLY LONG but i had too much fun writing it while listening to the most dramatic aot ost lol

Armin's hands were trembling.

"You brought their god damn dog on board? Are you trying to kill us, Armin?!" Levi spat.

"Sir — " Armin choked. " — sir, I couldn't leave her to die. I'll accept the consequences for anything that happens from here — could... could you please stop holding her by the hair?" he asked nervously.

Levi's eyes became slitted with anger as they flitted between you and the blond, bloodied soldier. It required incredible strength to fight an Ackerman as a sword-wielding combatant, but with words it required an otherworldly courage.

"Sure." he said slowly, dangerously, and hauled your weight by the hair — a searing pain spread across your scalp.

Everything was a bit blurry, but you felt cool wind brush your face. You were high up... up in the sky? The Scout's airship door was slid open, turbulent airflow filled the gondola. You were forced into a kneel at the edge, too weak to fight back yet Levi still held apprehension in his chest because of you.

"Shall I let her hair go now?" Levi asked sarcastically.

"No!"

You saw Armin's eyes glaze over with fear, you heard him babbling desperately to his captain.

"If I toss her off this airship right now, I will sleep soundly tonight."

"Captain! Please hear me out!" Armin exclaimed desperately. "It would be senseless murder, she's no longer hostile! Like I said earlier, she could have killed me, but she didn't!"

A long silence ensued after his words, one impenetrably thick and jarringly apprehensive.

"Captain..." Armin's voice weakly punctured the silence. He sounded like he was using the last of his strained vocal chords to plead with Levi.

"She's their weapon. Don't mistake her docile behavior for surrender, Armin, she's just out of ammo after fighting."

"Captain."

"She's their weapon." Levi repeated through gritted teeth, "Unless you intend to keep her as such, I'm kicking her off right now."

Armin's mind buzzed for solutions as the longest silence yet ensued.

"C — can we bring her to Commander Hange first?" Armin asked.

After a small moment of begging, another silence ensued, one broken by the harsh and grating sound of your whimper as Levi flung your body in the opposite direction of the airship's exit.

Without regard for his comrade's bewildered stares, Armin rushed to you. "Are you okay?" he asked. The smallest head tilt from you was enough to settle Armin's high-strung nerves.

Levi let out a forfeiting sigh, "Sleep is for the wicked..." he grumbled under his breath. "Alright, let's take her to Hange and that mutt. Mikasa, come with us."

Now, you were supposed to be at your weakest — or so that's what Levi and Armin and the rest of their comrades in the gondola thought.

But when the door leading into the airship's control slid open to reveal Eren Jaeger, you lunged for him like a dragon.

Though he had quick reaction time, you clawed at him much faster than he could shield his face, resulting in three stripes of red across his cheek. He bore a grimace of wolf-like canines.

It required both Levi and Mikasa to restrain you while you thrashed around, but they didn't have to for long.

In your fit of blinded vengeance, you didn't notice a very familiar face sitting besides the owner of the Founding titan, whose hurt face healed over, whisps of steam rising out from your claw marks until they disappeared entirely.

"Stand down, Y/n." Zeke's voice penetrated the atmosphere.

You looked at him wide-eyed, utterly shaken.

"... War Chief?" you croaked confusedly.

But your confusion dissipated at once. Understanding dawned on your face, causing your features to be dragged down.

"Treacherous bastard!" you screamed piercingly, Armin winced. "I once revered you! Bastard! Bastard!"

You ran your foul mouth on the War Chief, calling him audacious, calling him vermin, calling him a lot of things until the atmosphere felt aflame; Armin stepped in with a voice smooth like flowing rivers.

"Stand down, Y/n." he commanded simply, and you obeyed like a dog. He knew something very important about you that you weren't even fully aware of.

See, when you bore witness to your War Chief's treachery, these invisible threads keeping you sewn to his command snapped. Armin could tell, so he played a little experiment, sort of like throwing a stray dog a bone — to see if it would go for it.

It surprised everyone else to see you cease at once after Armin told you to. His blue eyes brought a calming sensation over you. When you looked into them, it felt like you were being stared at by an angel, although that was laughably ironic, considering what people called Eldians in Marley.

"Commander Hange, I have a proposal to make." Armin stood to his superior confidently, while Hange willingly listened.

The air in the airship's gondola shook with celebratory roars from the Eldian soldiers, Floch at the center causing it all.

But packed away into the quiet area were Jean, Connie and Sasha.

"Like hell she's on our side... I'm sleeping with not just one eye open, but two eyes open 'till we get back on solid land." Connie huffed.

Jean looked over at him, "Connie... that just means you won't be sleeping, if you have two eyes open you're awake." he sighed at his friend's stupidity.

"I know! It was a joke — " he began, "Anyways. No one trusts that reaper, so why does Armin?"

Jean shrugged.

"I think she may genuinely be on our side." Sasha chimed, her tone lighthearted for the fact it was a very wild situation. The enemy who had slain countless people in the Eldian army was on their side?

"Seriously?!" Connie began argumentatively.

The door slid open. Jean's eyes spotted you as soon as you emerged.

You squeezed into the celebrating crowd of Eldian soldiers, without Armin by your side. In the other room, unbeknownst to the others, he was previously wiping blood off of your cheek with his handkerchief. He reared his pretty blue eyes at you, and softly commanded that you wait for him in the other room.

Now he remained in the control room, discussing the future with Hange and Levi, while you tried to discretely blend in with everyone else.

"Heya, nice 't have ya on our side." Sasha greeted you.

Because Floch flashed a hostile look your way, you decided to stay with these three.

The conversation staggered due to your blunt responses. But it ceased completely in a moment, a quick yet slow moment.

Your keen senses felt someone clamber onboard the airship, and your lightning reflexes shielded Sasha from taking her fated gunshot wound to the chest.

BANG

Wispy fumes curled up out of the shotgun's muzzle. At the end of the gun's neck was none other than your little sister, Gabi.

🏷️; @chuuyasballz

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 23

WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

“So how mad are you?” Tyler asks, as he stands in the doorway of the main floor laundry room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.  

The situation is touch and go. She hadn’t set foot upstairs while he’d carried out Millie’s bedtime routine or when Kyle had wandered in with a sleeping five year-year old under each time; dumping each of them fully clothed into their beds before taking off again.

“Why would I be mad at you?” she counters, as she gathers a bundle of laundry from inside the dryer and drops them on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides getting  glitter all over the goddamn place.”

“You can blame your daughter for that. She's a little obsessed with sparkly shit.”

“Just a little,” Esme agrees with a grin.

He takes it as a sign that all is well between them and finally approaches, standing behind her and pushing a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft, fine tresses and lightly tugs; drawing her head back and kissing her. Teeth lightly capturing her bottom lip as he pulls away, and she gives a grin and reaches back to grab a hold of his ass, lightly squeezing before he steps beside her.

They work in companionable silence; each tending to handfuls of clean clothes that they drop into a wicker basket that sits on the floor between them. And he glances over at her every few seconds; eyes wandering her entire form; clad in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts, tattered and filled with holes and paint stainss.  Taking in the way her hair falls to just below her shoulders and brushes against the sides of her face; the natural red high lights sparkling under the artificial light.

She catches him watching her and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Almost seven years later and she’s still self-conscious about how she looks to him. Always fretting about the shape of her ass or the size of her thighs and how wide her hips have gotten. He sees none of that; he doesn’t notice the extra ten pounds she complains about or the stretch marks she tries desperately to hide. All he sees is the woman that he’d fallen in love. And keeps falling in love with each passing day.  

“Tyler...” she says.

“Esme...”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring. I’m not allowed to admire my wife?”

“Admiring or critiquing?”

He frowns. “What the hell is there to critique?”

“I’ve had five kids. Things don’t look like they used to,” she laments. “I’m definitely not the same person I was when we met.”

“Neither am I.”

“But you’re only getting better with age. Me? I just get worse.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror lately? Because you look fucking amazing. And I know you’re just going to say I’m just being biased or that I’m just trying to boost your ego. But it’s true. Every word. You’re beautiful and you’re sexy and you always will be in my eyes.”

He hates not only what her own battle with depression and the monsters from her past has done to her, but also her disastrous first marriage; Mark’s abusive behavior –physical, emotional, sexual- leaving so much damage in its wake. And it’s been a full-time job in itself getting her to see herself the way he does. It’s his main bone of contention in their marriage: having to listen to her degrade herself and drag herself down when he just wants to worship the ground she walks on.

“Even after five kids?” she challenges.

“Especially after five kids. I don’t know what more I can say. How to get you to see yourself like I see you. I just wish you would.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

“Maybe you need to stop. I love you. And I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I have since that day you walked into my place. I don’t see what you do.  I don’t see the extra weight you bitch about or the marks on your skin or the how your clothes don’t fit like they used to. All I see is you.”

“You really are determined to make me cry by the end of the night,” she teases, and playfully slaps him in the face with one of Addie’s sleepers.  

She watches the way his hands move as they fold that simple piece of clothing. His hand –from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle digit- longer than the actual sleeper itself; those fingers with their various scars and their swollen and misshapen knuckles never fumbling as they tend to impossibly tiny buttons.  She knows what those hands are capable of; the things that they’d done. The blood he has on them; hundreds of men in Dhaka alone were dead because of those hands. Large and powerful. Frightening, even.  

But she also knows how those hands feel; the callouses on the palm and the even more prominent one on the right index digit; his ‘trigger finger’. She knows they’re capable of inflicting so much more than brutality and death. They can be soothing and gentle; rocking babies to sleep, caring for the kids’ injuries and clearing away their tears, massing her aching back when in the agonizing final stages of childbirth. And she knows how they feel during intimate times; how they can alternate between gentle and rough depending on his mode and what how she wants and needs his touch to be. She’s experienced those delirious heights of pleasure that they’re more than capable of bringing her to.  

She looks away; the mere thought bringing a flush to her cheeks and a familiar warmth that builds between her thighs and in the pit of her stomach.  

“I was always looking at you because I was trying to figure out if you’re wearing underwear or not,” Tyler admits.

“This is not a safe house to walk around in wearing JUST a t-shirt.  Not only do we have all kinds of little people that can show up out of nowhere, but now we have Kyle wandering in and out.”

“How long’s he staying for anyway?”  

“He SAID his vacation was for two weeks.”

“But? There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can feel it.”

“He did say if he liked it here that much, he might not go back.”

Tyler sighs.

“I thought you liked my brother.”

“I do. I just don’t like the baggage he brings with him.”

She smirks. “Nik?”

“We just got rid of her. He sticks around, that means she’s going to come back. And I don’t know about you, but the less of her the better.”

“She does tend to bring the drama with her.”

“Drama, home wrecking, whatever you want to call it.”

“But if we could get him away from her...”

“We are NOT getting involved. We just talked about this. We agreed to stay out of it.”

“No, you agreed to stay out of it,” Esme corrects.  

“And I told you to stay out of it.”

“When do I ever listen to anything you say?”

He smirks.

“We could always kick Chloe out and have Kyle take her place.”

“You mean Ovi could kick Chloe out. Because we’re not doing shit. We are staying out of people's personal crap. Didn’t you hate when people were always in our shit back in Colorado? Your mom, your other brothers...”

“But they’re evil and were always trying to cause problems. We’re trying to avoid a huge problem. If we get Kyle away from Nik, then there’s no more Nik. That way if he stays here, we won’t have to worry about her coming around and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Neither wants you to stick in her...”

“Let’s not start that conversation again.”

“I’m just trying to think of what’s best for my brother. And I know she’s not it.”

“Then you never should have set him up with her in the first place. This is kind of all your fault.”

Frowning, she rolls up the beach towel in her hand and smacks him hard across the ass with it.  

“I’m just saying that we need to stay out of. Let Kyle do what he wants and whatever happens, happens. I just don’t want him living here. We have enough people living under this roof. We don’t need another one.”

“And yet you want another kid,” she scoffs.

“That’s totally different and you know it. That’s a kid. That we’d make together. Kyle’s a grown ass man. Let him be one. Stay out of it. If he wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. If he wants to dick down the neighbor, let him dick down the neighbor. Who gives a shit?”

“And if he’s dicking down both?”

“Then good for him. He’s lucky.”

She rolls her eyes.

“He manages to juggle both of them, he’s a fucking legend.”

“You’re going to be juggling both your balls in a second. Is this your sly of way of telling me you want to be dicking down the neighbor?”

“Are you fucking insane? No way in hell.”

“You have to admit, she’s cute.”

“She’s not you. I don’t want to be dicking down anyone else, okay?”

“You know,” she grins. “Sometimes you can really redeem yourself.”

“And even if I did want to, I wouldn’t have the energy to dick anyone else down anyway.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or...”

“Just you, baby. I only want you.”

She smiles, then lightly bumps his hip with her own.  

“So I never did get a yes or a no.  About the underwear.”

She gives a dramatic sigh and then lifts the bottom of the t-shirt to her waist; giving a slight peek of the elaborate and colorful tattoo that graces her entire left rib cage, and a look at the lacy black garment that sits low on her hips but is cut high on her ass. “Good?”

“Very good. Very, very, very good.”

“You’re getting easy to please in your old age. Pretty soon all it’s going to take is some side boob to get you in the mood.”

He grins. “Who says it doesn’t already?”

“You have been very...what’s the word...amorous...lately.”

“Lately?”

“I mean, you always are. You always HAVE been. Our track record was amazing sex over the past almost seven years is remarkable. But since the doctor gave that green light, you’ve been extra...I don’t know...extra.”

“Do you blame me? I just went four months having to flog the bishop two to three times a day.”

“Flog the bishop,” she can’ t help but laugh. “Baby, you’re so cute.”

“What I am is horny.”

“Yeah,” a grin tugs at her lips.  “I’ve noticed that the last couple of days.”

“No. I mean like right now. This very second.”

“I’m busy.”

“Get unbusy,” he says, and yanks the piece of clothing she’s folding out of her hand and tosses it aside.

“You need to chill,” Esme suggests, and then has the nerve to bent over in front of him as she fetches a wayward sock off the floor; the shirt slipping up to the small of her back.

Just the mere sight of her ass –that smooth, pale skin- causes his cock to stir; the pressure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.  And he reaches out, running a fingertip along the edge of the lace, feeling the goosebumps that prick her flesh.  Finger slowly travelling over her skin until he reaches her hip; then pressing his palm against it and squeezing tightly.  

“That hurt!” she scolds and reaches around to rub at the tender spot. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into you.”

“Okay, well can give you five minutes to get shit done? Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Screw patience,” he growls, the slams the dryer door closed and places on hand her stomach and the other at the base of her throat, fingers applying slight, yet firm pressure as he presses his erection against her.  His hand slips down the front of her panties; fingertip dragging along the top of her pubic bone, his breath warm and moist as his mouth hovers by next to her ear. “Let’s fuck.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but all words escape her when she feels the tip of his nose and the scratch of his beard against the side of her throat, followed by the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Lips aggressive and demanding against the skin; teeth lightly grazing along the flesh, fingers pressing harder and deeper into her neck.  His aggression has always been a turn on; starting with that moment he’d pinned her against the wall in the hotel room in Dhaka in a fit of a rage. She’d quickly discovered it was what she liked. What she craved. And she’d initially been ashamed because of it; Mark had caused a tremendous amount of pain and torment during their shit show of a marriage, so she’d felt disappointed and disgusted in herself for wanting sex to be that way with another man. But she’d learned that the two situations were vastly different; one was abuse, the other someone she trusts with her life. Who’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

She presses her ass against him; loving the way he groans in her ear. It’s empowering. Knowing you have that kind of effect of someone. When you know all the little things that drives them crazy; those magic spots that can nearly bring them to their knees. And she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair as he kisses her. His tongue aggressively pushing its way into her mouth just as his hand slides lower into her panties, palm cupping her mound; hot and wet against his skin. Giving a low moan of approval at the sensation before his mouth finds the side of her throat once again. Her eyes closing and the grip on his hair tightening as two of his fingers push past the swollen lips, the ends coming in contact with her clit; causing her body to shudder against and her hips to jolt backwards, bringing her ass in contact with his cock yet again.

“Fuck...” he growls. The simple contact even through the fabric of his sweats causing the pressure to build; erection painfully straining against the confines around him. And she cries out when his teeth clamp down on the juncture between neck and shoulders and he slips two fingers inside of her.   “So good...” he breathes, mouth against her neck. “...you feel so good...and you’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” she says. “Only for you.”

A low and almost feral moan resonates from deep within his chest and removes his hand from inside of her panties. His gaze never wavering from hers as he licks and sucks her fluid from his fingers, the taste sweet and delicious on his lips and his tongue.  

“Tastes so good,” his voice is low. “So fucking good.”

There’s a primal, animalistic look in his eyes; a hunter stalking its prey.   And it makes that aching and longing between her legs almost overwhelming; almost too powerful to bear.  She grinds her ass against him once more; feeling how hard he is through the fabric of his sweats. His breathing quickening and become more ragged as she continues to rub against him, feeling the way his fingers bite into her hips. And she attempts to slip her own hand between her legs to chase some relief, but he roughly grabs her by the wrist, then brings her arm behind her back.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Tyler snarls, and uses the force of his grip and the weight of his body to propel her towards the countertop across the room. A knee pushes her legs apart as he keeps her arm secure behind her back; his other hand roughly yanking her panties off her hips and over her ass, letting them to pool at her ankles. “Take them off,” he orders, and she hurriedly obliges.  

Anyone else in this situation and it would scare her, the intensity in his eyes, the aggression in both his voice and his movements. But the trust is there. It always has been. The confidence that he’d never hurt her; that he’d stop the very second she showed any signs of pain or discomfort.

Tyler tightens his hold on the wrist that’s pinned behind her back and pushes her further into the countertop. His free hand on her shoulder; pushing her upper bod down before hastily shoving down his sweatpants. “Open,” he demands, using a thigh to push apart her legs. And still holding her arm firmly behind her back, the other hand settles on her shoulder as he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust that has her crying out, cheek pressed against the cold ceramic beneath her.  

He hesitates; leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You okay, baby?”

“Mm...hmm...” she responds, and pushes her ass back, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just fuck me,” she orders. “Now.”

He grins. “You’re demanding.”

“Now!” she forcefully repeats and reaches back to dig her nails into his thigh, hard enough to break the skin.  

He pulls out completely, smirking at the disappointed, pissed off look that crosses her face before slamming back inside of her with brutal force.  It always surprises him; how someone that small and seemingly fragile can take as much as she can. How she’s always so eager and willing to this side of him to come out; aggressive, mean, controlling. Sometimes it even scares him; how quickly he can lose control of both the situation. Afraid that he’ll hurt her and then spent a week hating himself for it.  

But he gives her what she wants. Repeatedly driving into her; that arm still pinned behind her back, the other hand now on the back of her head; spurred on by her pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. Sweat beading across his forehead and gathering at the nape his neck and the small of his back. Fucking her until she loses the ability to form coherent words and is gasping and sobbing; tears streaming down her face. Hips jerking back towards him, matching every movement.   And he drops the hand from the back of her head and reaches between her legs, fingers easily finding her clit; vigorously and relentlessly rubbing at it until her orgasm hits her. The scream muffled against the countertop and those internal muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock. It quickly brings on his own release; a few deep, controlled thrusts until a deep, low growl rumbles in chest and he empties himself inside of her.

He finally releases the hold on the arm behind her back; both hands now resting on her hips as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. Chest heaving and legs sharking as he attempts to regain his composure.

“Tyler...” she reaches around and lays a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back. “...I love you, but you’re really fucking heavy.”

He didn’t realize his entire weight had collapsed against her, and he places a kiss on her cheek and gives an apologetic smile before backing away, withdrawing completely.  Snagging a towel from the laundry basket, he uses it to clean himself up, then gently presses it between her legs. “You alright?”

Esme nods.

“Was I too rough?”

She shakes her head. “You were perfect. But I swear to God if you got that towel out of the clean basket...”

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish grin, then kisses her softly before tossing the item in question into the nearby sink before pulling his sweatpants back up. “Here,” he locates a pair of pajama pants in the dryer and hands them to her. “I don’t think you’ll want to put that underwear back on. They’re a little...wet.”

“Well if you didn’t have that effect on me, they’d be perfectly fine,” she retorts, and then turns to face him; hands on his chest for balance as he helps her slip into the pants.  “I never thought you’d be the type of guy who’d be into aftercare,” she teases.

“I never was. Until I met you.”

“Look at me. Bringing out all the good sides of you.”

“All the best sides,” he declares, then lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “You sure you’re okay? I think I was a little too into it.”

“I would have told you if you were. You were amazing. Trust me. And thank you,” she stands on her tiptoe to kiss him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you,” she says, as she buries her face in his chest, fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “So much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he brushes his lips against her temple. “Always.”

****

The second time lasts longer. Slow yet intense love making that follow two rounds of foreplay.  Now they lay in a mix of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; on their sides with her back tucked into his front, one of his legs draped over hers and their tightly clasped hands pressed against her stomach.  Tyler’s eyes are closed, tip of his nose and his lips pressed against the nape of her neck; happy and sated. Not just from the sex, but from the intimacy afterwards; lying together and feeling the warmth that radiates from her body and the familiar smell that clings to her hair. And she gives a long, content sigh and turns her face to the side, smiling back at him.

“You asleep?” she asks.

“Nope. Just completely and utterly fucked out.”

She laughs at that, and he gives a chuckle of his own and raises his head long enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, and brushes his nose against her temple.

“I love you too,” she snuggles tighter into him and increases the grip on his hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing really. Just lying here. Thinking about how happy my dick is right now.”

She snorts.

“Which is very fucking happy, by the way.”

“If he wasn’t, I’d be very insulted.”

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires.

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He frowns. “As long as it’s not Dhaka. Because if you say Dhaka...”

“It isn’t Dhaka,” she assures him. “As amazing as those five days were...”

“Best five days of my life.”

“...I was NOT thinking about that place. I was thinking about that shack of yours. After Millie brought it up, I started thinking about wanting to go there and see it.”

“It doesn’t look the same anymore. Not after what he’s done do it.”

“You mean it actually has walls and an actual roof now?”

“Listen, smart ass...”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I just want to see it. It’s where everything started. It’s where WE started.”

“Technically WE didn’t start until Bangladesh.”

“But we met there. At the shack. It’s where I first saw you. It would be nice to go and see it. To see Koen again. And bathroom chicken.”

“I don’t think bathroom chicken is there anymore. I think he’s probably made dinner out of her by now.”

“That dick. That’s fucking savage.”

Tyler chuckles and presses his lips to the side of her head. “You eat chicken,” he reminds her.

“I wouldn’t have eaten HER. We could have kept her as a pet. Or considered her our first child.”

“I remember when we were in Dhaka and...”

“Hey!” she jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. “No saying the D word.”

“When we were THERE, I used to think about how we’d make things work. If they went okay between us and we didn’t kill one another while we were travelling. If you’d be happy staying there with me whenever you came to town.”

“Why wouldn’t I have been?”

“It wasn’t exactly five-star accommodations.”

“You were a bachelor. You didn’t care what your place looked like. You were on the job so much it was basically just a place to eat and sleep. And fuck some of your pieces of ass.”

“I never had any pieces of ass there. I didn’t want anyone close to home. In case they got attached and started showing up all the time.”

“What about Nik? I’m sure she visited you there.”

“We only ever fucked when I was on a job and she’d show up at the hotel. Never at my place. I didn’t want her there. I didn’t want ties to anyone, which meant keeping them away from my place.”

“You’re a very complex man, Tyler Rake,” she muses. “But you thought about having me there.”

“Because I wanted you there. I wanted you to be part of my life. If it was a dick and ditch, I would have told you right from day one. When we first fucked.”

“So you wanted to keep me around. Right from the start.”

“More like from the third day in. I was hopeful. That you’d want to stick around.”

“And here I was thinking it was me getting attached way too soon,” she teases, and he smiles against the back of her neck. “I was hopeful too. That there’d be more to it. That we’d travel like we planned and find out if we actually liked each other outside of sex. We never got that chance though.”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Do you regret that?” That it never went according to plan?”

“No.  It’s the butterfly effect, right? Change one thing, everything changes?”

She grins. “When did you become the deep thinker?”

“Not just a pretty face and big muscles, baby. If things had had went the way we planned, there’s a chance that the twins and Declan and Addie wouldn’t even be here. The only for sure one is Millie.  Because I wasted no time knocking you up with her.”

“Your swimmers were very determined,” she concludes. “I wonder what day of the five it happened on. I hope it wasn’t the first day.”

“Why’s that?”

“You want your daughter knowing she was conceived while you were choking me?”

“You want her to know how much you like it?” He counters.

“How about we agree to keep our mouths shut. Because those five days were extremely dirty and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, and presses his lips to her shoulder; lingering on the lotus flower tattoo that graces her skin.

“I would have been happy there,” she says. “At the shack.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I think WE would have been happy.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to raise a family there. Maybe one kid. But not five.”

“We would have had to move once we found out about the twins. Or added onto the place.”

“The outback is not a place to bring up kids. Trust me.”

“I would have liked some time with you there. Even just a little while.”

“Honestly? I would have just liked to fuck you there. At least once.”

She looks over her shoulder at him, frowning.

“What? You have your thing, I have mine. Just ‘cause it sounds weird, doesn’t mean it is. And I’m not gonna lie, I would have done it that first day.”

“Seriously? What about Nik?”

“She could have watched.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Esme scoffs. “Bad enough she’s seen you naked. I don’t want her seeing me naked. Seeing us...you know.”

He grins. “Fucking?”

“To be crude about it, yes.”

“She could have just waited outside then,” Tyler reasons.

“You wanted to seriously fuck me the first day we met?”

“First day? First ten minutes. Do you blame me? I’m a guy. And you walked in there looking so cute and...”

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?”

“What’s wrong with being called cute? I think you’re very cute.”

“I want to be beautiful and sexy and alluring and...”

“You’re those things too.  But sometimes you look cute. That’s not an insult. You’re tiny and cute and I want to pick you up and put you in my pocket. And you looked cute that day. You had on those little jean shorts and that yellow tank top that had one strap that kept falling down. Your hair was in a ponytail. And you smelled like coconut.”

She rolls over onto her side to face him. “You remember all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, you looked cute. And you walked in there like you owned the place. All fucking attitude. I liked what I saw. You were different. You didn't take shit and you let me know pretty early that you weren’t going to put up with any from me.”

“I knew it. You’re turned on by assertive women.”

“Well I was turned on by YOU. I don’t know about other assertive women. I so would have fucked you. Right there. Right then.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or....”

“Flattered. Definitely flattered.”

“For the record, I would have let you.”

A broad grin covers his face. “Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you, nice hair. Let’s fuck’?”

“That would have worked actually. I would have been like ‘let’s go’.”

“Why didn’t YOU say anything? Esme counters.

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“You plied me with alcohol.”

“I asked you if you wanted a drink and you said yes. I gave it to you. I didn’t ply you with it. There’s a difference.”

“Well even without the booze, I would have given in. Just so you know.”

“I used to have a thing about wanting to fuck you on the kitchen table,” Tyler admits. “Just bend you over it and just give it to you.”

“You’re dirty.”

“That’s tame compared to some of the things we’ve done. Most of them, actually.”

“You’re such a bad influence,” she declares, then places a hand on the back of his head and kisses him; mouths moving slowly against each other, naked limbs rubbing and brushing together.  And when he pulls away, he brushes the hair away from her face and presses his lips to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose.

“I’m hungry,” Tyler announces.

Eme sighs. “Me too. What are you going to make me?”

“What do you want?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to see when we get down there.”

“How come I have to be the one to make it?”

“Your daughter said that you were the good cook, so I’ve given it up and handed you the reins,” she chides. “You wanted to try your hand at the domestic life, well there you go.”

“By domestic life, I meant siting on my ass while you do everything.”

“You wish!” she scoffs, and he pecks his life being throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. “Baby...” she muses, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re sexy. Can I feel your arms?”

“You can feel whatever you want, whenever you want, however much you want.”

“Wherever and whenever?” she enthuses. “That’s dangerous. What if I start feeling you up at the grocery store or when we pick the kids up at school? Make Millie’s teacher extra jealous.”

“Baby, if you want to fuck me in the parking lot at the grocery store, all you have to do is ask.”

‘Kinky,” she giggles, then frowns when he tosses on his t-shirts at her and lands on top of her head. “Are you really going to Port Douglas tomorrow?” she asks, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “To see your dad?”

Tyler nods.

“And you’re taking Millie?”

“She wanted to see him. And asked if he could come to her birthday party. She even made him a special invitation to give him.”

“You think she’ll be okay? I mean, if he’s having an ‘off day’...”

“If he is, we leave. I wouldn’t take her anywhere I didn’t think she could handle. You know that.”

“And what about you?” She climbs out of bed and stands in front of him, hands on his chest. “Think you can handle it?”

“I did the first time,” he points out.

“Did you?” her fingertips trace the scar on the left side of his chest, where the sniper’s bullet had caught him on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.  

He hadn’t even known what hit him; the shot knocking him off his feet, an immediate burning sensation filling his entire chest and blood rising into his throat. He remembers thinking that he had to get up and get cover; that the sniper would be waiting to take the ‘kill shot’. But his legs wouldn’t work; he was nauseous and dizzy and in excruciating pain and all he could do was drag himself across the asphalt while coughing up blood.

“I think so,” he replies. “I didn’t come home and crack open a bottle and pop some Oxy, so I guess I did okay.”

“I know there’s a lot you’re holding back,” Esme says. “From your childhood. That you’re angry and you’re hurt and even though he’s sick, you want him to pay for what he’s done. And I get it, Tyler. You know I do. And you know I support you one hundred percent.”

“But...”

“I just don’t want Millie hearing all of that. If something happens and you snap on him, I don’t want her being there. Because she’s five and she’s a baby still and she doesn’t need to shoulder adult things. It’s bad enough she asked about the time you nearly died.”

“In all fairness, you brought that up the other night and she’s been holding onto it for days.”

“I know. And I feel like shit for doing it. Sometimes I forget she’s listening and that she’s as smart as she is. She’s insanely smart. It’s almost scary how smart she actually is. Which is why I don’t want her there if things go bad between you and your dad.”

“I promise you, if something goes wrong, we just leave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Esme agrees. “But I also know what you get like when you go off, Tyler. When you can’t control what you say or what you do. And...”

He silences her with a kiss. “I would never...ever...put our daughter in that situation. You know I wouldn’t.”

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and circles her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Whether you think so or not.”

“I think you overestimate me way too much.”

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut,” she counters, then squeals when he pinches her ass hard enough to leave a bruise. “I could take you; you know.”

He smirks. “I’d love to see you try.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for.”

“What are going to do? Bite my ankles?”

“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?

“I do. But you love me.”

“Yeah....” she smiles, then tightens the hold around his neck. “...I do.”

[fraink5-writes]

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 8

Is there a more exciting way to start the best month of the year than with a heartfelt conversation between two fictional characters?

Thanks to @leio13 for her innumerable contributions!

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The sky glowed bright orange, not unlike Childe's hair, when Childe's eyes cracked open. With a lingering hazy look upon his face, he gazed up. "Zhongli?" he asked in a mumbled whisper.

"Did you sleep well? Are you feeling better?" Zhongli smiled.

Childe nodded. "I had the strangest dream…"

Zhongli could not suppress his sigh. As long as Childe believed that what happened was a dream, Zhongli's secret was essentially safe.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" Before Zhongli had realized, Childe's eyes had returned to their usual keenness.

Zhongli conceded with a shake of his head.

"I knew it," Childe declared while sitting up. “But don’t worry; I won’t ask about it—as per contract.”

“It’s all right.” Zhongli fidgeted with his ponytail. “It would be better if I told you myself than let it fester wildly in your imagination.”

“Good plan.” Childe smirked. He scooted next to Zhongli, crossed his legs close to his chest, and leaned his chin on his hands as though eager to hear a story.

Zhongli inhaled. This was the consequence of his actions. The price was only fair. Childe had risked his life to keep Zhongli from danger; as such, it was only natural that Zhongli put himself at risk by revealing his secret as repayment. He exhaled. “As you saw, my hair has the power to heal injuries. When I use it, it glows just like this.” Zhongli held out his now-amber hair for Childe to see.

“Woah…” Childe’s voice came out as barely a whisper. “Does it… does it do anything else?”

“Anything else? Not as far as I know.”

“How long has it been like this…?”

“As long as I can remember.” Zhongli twirled a few tiny strands of hair that he had hidden behind his ear. “When it’s cut, it loses its power and doesn’t grow back. That’s why my mother hid me away in that tower, and I never left. If someone were to find out about its power, they would try to take it for themselves. Such a power needs to be protected.”

“But now you’re old enough to leave on your own.” Childe gazed sympathetically as he reassured Zhongli. “You’ve spent all that time training to protect yourself.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Zhongli was at a loss; he didn’t know what kind of reaction he would receive—he had never even planned on telling anyone. Yet Childe’s composure put him at ease—if only a little.

“Come on. Like I said earlier, don’t worry. What could happen with the two of us?” Childe’s confident grin mellowed into a small grin. “I appreciate that you told me this.”

“I didn’t think it would be possible to keep that secret much longer.”

“Right? It’s only been two days, but it’d be hard to say we’re strangers at this point. Well, I consider anyone willing to fight with me a friend—which makes you, by definition, a friend!”

“Is that so? A very odd definition of friends, especially since we don’t properly know each other’s names.”

“Ahaha…” Childe scratched his head while laughing weakly. “So that wasn’t a dream either…”

“No.”

“Are you mad?”

“Not particularly. But I am curious as to why you chose to lie.” This was true. As their contract essentially stipulated that they remain strangers, he couldn’t expect Childe to follow the same code of personal conduct. However, he couldn’t help but agree that he and Childe had, in fact, surpassed the status of strangers, so, accordingly, he was curious about Childe’s real name.

“Don’t take it personally! I didn’t just lie to you; I stopped using the other name a long time ago.”

Zhongli and Childe stared in silence as Zhongli tried to repress his curiosity. Childe's face, as usual, was illegible, but rather than a fake smile, his mask was solemn.

"Alright, I'll tell you." Childe sighed. "Because I think you have a good point about the names." Breaking eye contact, he leaned back. "Ajax. That's the name my father gave me."

"'Ajax'… That's a nice name. Certainly not one to be ashamed of."

Childe chuckled with a shake of his head. "Don't misunderstand—it's a noble name. The original Ajax was a great hero and adventurer." As Childe explained, Zhongli thought he glimpsed a flash of light in his eyes.  Zhongli wished to grab hold of it and draw it out, but it quickly vanished into a shadow. "Such a proud name shouldn't be tarnished. That's why I left it behind when I started down this path." Childe laughed hollowly. "So that's it."

That's it? The empty conclusion brought a brief frown to Zhongli's face, but he was quick to push it aside on his search for Childe's light. "I want to know more about Ajax."

"Ajax?" It was a promising start as Childe smiled again. "Where to begin… As a great hero in Teyvat, he has many stories—" But the attempt ended in failure.

"No, the other Ajax."

"The other Ajax?" Childe blinked. "Are you sure? It's not a very good story. Boring at best, a downer at worst."

"I don't mind. I enjoy reading non-fiction." Frankly, Zhongli did not care about drama or excitement; he preferred facts about the world around him, and, in this case, he wanted to know how the man besides him came to be the way he was.

"Suit yourself." Childe sighed. "I'll do you a favor and skip all the boring parts though. One day, when Ajax was fourteen, he was walking through the woods. All of the sudden, some scary wolves appeared!" He paused for dramatic effect then continued miming the story with his hands. "Their claws marred the snow's face with dirt—and their fangs! Their fangs were dripping with blood! Powerless against the ferocious pack, Ajax turned and fled. He jumped over logs and ducked under branches, but alas! He was not careful enough as he went tumbling into a deep, deep hole! And, unfortunately, Ajax never quite made it out of there. The end."

Zhongli clapped. "That was a compelling story, but it was missing one crucial part." As emphatic a storyteller as Childe was, his story had a glaring hole. But it was such a dark and ominous gap that Zhongli dared not explore deeper. Its contents were locked deep in Childe's heart, where they should remain undisturbed. "The beginning."

"You really want to hear that?"

"Of course, the beginning is essential for getting to know the characters."

Childe raised an eyebrow. "Fine." Despite his reluctance, a grin sprouted on Childe's face as soon as he started speaking. "There once was a boy named Ajax, who lived in Snezhnaya, where it's so cold that if you stop moving, you freeze to death. He was named Ajax by his father after the great hero, and this fact brought much pride to the boy who loved ice fishing."

"Ice fishing?"

"Yeah, it's a little different than regular fishing." Childe mimed casting a fishing line into the water. "Once you've found your spot on the ice, you drill a small hole—a fish-sized hole—lower your bait, and then wait. Wait, wait, wait. If you feel a tug, you've got one! Sometimes it never happens, and that's fine too."

"How inefficient.”

Childe laughed. "Well, the fish aren't important. What's important is what you do while waiting. For example, you can sit down next to each other and tell stories, just like we are. That was Ajax's favorite part, listening to his father's stories. Thrilling adventure stories of renowned heroes and many from his father’s own youth. To little Ajax, his father was the greatest hero. As Ajax listened to these stories, hooked on every word, he dreamed of his own adventures, ones that would impress even the heroes he admired."

Just like little Ajax probably felt listening to his father, Zhongli was enamored by Childe’s storytelling, but, on the contrary, the details felt like the least important thing. He was mesmerized by Childe’s hopeful gestures, excited tone, and his eyes, which dazzled like the surface of the ocean on a cloudless day. They exuded an unfamiliar warmth, drawing Zhongli closer.

“Ah! How could I forget?” Childe suddenly exclaimed. “I should introduce the other major characters.”

Zhongli tilted his head.

“You see, besides his loving parents, Ajax has many wonderful siblings—five, to be exact! Two older and three younger: Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon. They are his world. Let’s see. Teucer is still so young, so he loves toys, and, among those, his favorite one is ‘Mr. Cyclops.’ I just defeated four of them back there, you know. Anyway, to Teucer…” As Childe described Ajax’s family, a subtle but persistent upturned curl played at his lips. His words fell softly like a blanket enveloping the characters. His faraway gaze reflected a fathomless affection, and, after an indefinite time, when they finally turned steadily towards Zhongli, he nearly melted. “How was that? Are you satisfied?”

Zhongli nodded. “Almost. However, I think I prefer Ajax.”

“Huh?” Childe’s head turned. “But you don’t even know him.”

“That’s not true. I just met him, and I’ve learned so much from your stories. He’s much more genuine.”

“If you think so, I’m glad.” Although Childe smiled, his eyes were dull with sorrow.

“It’s not too late. To be the hero in Ajax’s dreams, to be the person Anthon, Teucer and Tonia believe you to be.” Zhongli reached out his hand, his fingers lightly brushing Childe’s cheek. “I know that Ajax didn’t die in that forest. May I call you that, Ajax?”

Childe nodded, gently intertwining their fingers.

***

Ajax could feel heat building up under Zhongli’s hand on his cheek. He glanced side-to-side. Since when was it so dark? He had been so caught up in stories of the past that he forgot about the passage of time. He stood up. “I didn’t realize it was so late. You must be hungry. I’ll go get something to eat.” He quickly turned around.

“Thank you.”

Ajax paused. “You don’t know how to start a fire, do you?”

“I may have read about it in a book.”

“Alright, let me show you real quickly.” Ajax scrambled to create a fire pit. Then he carved his drill and board in order to create the beginnings of a fire. “The goal is to create enough friction in order to get sparks.” When he created enough coals by turning the drill, he lightly blew on them to encourage a flame before putting them in the pit. After a sizable fire had started, Ajax stood with his arms akimbo. “See? Just like that.” Zhongli stared wordlessly, his mouth slightly agape. Of course, Ajax knew that it was a terrible demonstration, but he wanted to leave quickly. “I’ll be back soon, okay? I don’t expect any trouble, but if anything happens, you can hold your own.”

Zhongli scooted closer to the fire. “I’ll be fine here. Good luck out there, Ajax.”

Ajax’s heart thudded. He nodded brusquely before taking off. Running away from a fight was the response of a coward, but this was different. He needed to be alone to think and catch his breath.

Ajax, Ajax, Ajax. Ajax’s heart beat rhythmically to the repeated echo of his name. It had been years since anyone had called him that, except his family (and even then, he rarely had the opportunity to see them.) The sound of it bounced around his brain with such trepidation, such joy.

Was it okay for Childe to have told Zhongli all that? His name, his past and his family were his greatest secrets that he held closest to his heart. Not even his fellow harbingers knew about Ajax.

But Zhongli was different. He wasn’t calculating or malicious. Although justifiably paranoid, Zhongli lived earnestly and put a lot of trust into his principles and into others. Childe had given up on living like that, but he wanted to be worthy of Zhongli’s trust. 

Childe scoffed. Perhaps telling Zhongli about Ajax was another act of deception, for it was too late for Childe to return to how Ajax once was. He was a member of the Fatui. He operated through manipulation and murder. Even as he guided Zhongli to Liyue Harbor, the true intentions of his trip had always been to steal the power from Rex Lapis. At his core, nothing remained that was worth trusting.

When Zhongli dropped his paranoid guard, he was in fact too trusting. That fact had not left Ajax’s mind since Zhongli befriended the Crux Fleet. Although such a weakness was objectively exploitable, Ajax found it to have the opposite effect as well: it was endearing. It was an earnest, inadvertent manipulation that transformed Childe from a weapon to a shield. Maybe because Zhongli had not felt the cutting edge of Childe’s blade, he believed in Ajax. In return, Ajax would protect him. If Zhongli were the only person who believed, Ajax would become a hero like those of stories for him alone.

At least until Liyue Harbor. At Liyue Harbor, no matter what happened, Childe would have to confront all that had led up to that point. At Liyue Harbor, it would all end.

After Ajax had gathered a decent amount of berries and sunsettias, he was met with the issue of the main course. His only two blades were impractical for hunting if he chanced upon a bird or boar, but fruit would not suffice as a meal. He circled around the pool at the earlier battlefield until he spotted a shielded mitachurl sitting against a stone wall. Although there was no fire, it was unlikely that a hilichurl would make camp without a meal. Ajax crept closer, sure enough there were two more hilichurls and a boar carcass. Perfect. After clearing out the hilichurls, the meat was Childe’s for the taking.

Childe charged at large hilichurl. It jumped up, erecting its sturdy shield. With no way to deal with the shield, Childe danced in circles around the beast, swiping continually with his blade. An arrow grazed the side of his head. Aside from a few strands of hair, it was probably nothing to worry about. His thoughts returned to his main target: the mitachurl. On the next opening, he jammed a dagger into its back. Seeing their strongest member stagger, the samachurl frantically waved its oversized wand a few times before scrambling up the cliff and away. The hilichurl with a crossbow fired several directionless shots, but it too dropped its weapon as Childe slowly approached. Childe waited, daggers in hand. Finally, it turned, running after the samachurl. 

Ajax sighed as he inspected the dead boar. He and Zhongli would not need so much meat. Besides, he didn’t want to be the one to show Zhongli his first animal butchering. So he decided to carve out a piece there and carry it back to their fire. The hilichurls could enjoy the rest if they ever returned.

Crunch.

Ajax peered at the ground below his foot. There laid a red mask, broken in two. It must have been knocked by that arrow. He sighed. Despite never wearing it properly, Childe had always been fond of that mask, but he couldn’t possibly fix it—not in his current situation, at least. He stuffed the two pieces into one of his pockets. Then he hurried back to Zhongli, picking up some mint for flavor.

“Welcome back, Ajax.” Zhongli warmly greeted Ajax upon his return.

“Sorry for the delay.” Ajax sat by the fire and prepared for phase two: the actual cooking.

“It’s no problem. It looks like you brought back plenty. Do you need any help?”

“Nope. Just sit back and relax. I don’t think I mentioned this, but Ajax is also a talented chef, you know.”

“Is there anything he isn’t?”

“A good diplomat, for one. Unless you count being atop everyone’s wanted list.”

Zhongli’s laugh brushed past Ajax’s ears like a warm breeze. “Well, I’m looking forward to whatever you make.”

Ajax impulsively looked away, blush creeping on his face. “It’ll be ready soon. In the meanwhile, if you’re hungry, you can eat the fruit; they don’t need to be cooked.” For the remainder of the cooking time, Ajax focused keenly on the roasting beef.

When the beef was nicely cooked, he seasoned it with a bit of mint then handed a portion to Zhongli. “Enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

Before he could even think about eating, Ajax watched intently for Zhongli’s reaction as he bit in. Widening eyes, curled lips and a swift second bite—even without words, Ajax knew he had succeeded. His chest swelled with pride. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help himself. “How is it?” He asked. 

Zhongli daintily patted his lips clean before responding. “It’s delicious.”

Ajax beamed. “What did I tell you?” Only when he was full on compliments did he take his first bite.

“Ajax.” Zhongli lowered the sunsettia he was eating. “Concerning tomorrow…”

“I know, I know. Tomorrow’s the Lantern Rite, right?”

“Yes. Of course, you know this route better than I, but…”

“Don’t worry! We’ll definitely make it on time. But we should leave early, at dawn. I want to show you all Liyue Harbor has to offer.”

“Okay.” Zhongli sighed. “What a relief.” After finishing the sunsettia, he stood up. “It would be good to get some rest soon.”

“Yeah, about that, we should sleep in shifts. Unpleasant types flock around ruins. Sorry that I can’t provide anywhere better to rest for the night.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve already done so much.” Zhongli covered a yawn with his hand.

“Why don’t you go on and sleep first? I already got plenty of rest earlier.”

“Then I will. Thank you.” A meter away, Zhongli lay down on the grass, his back to the fire. “Goodnight, Ajax.”

“Goodnight.” So soft, Ajax’s whisper probably never reached Zhongli’s ears. As he finished off the remaining food, unwilling to make waste, he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Zhongli’s shoulder blades. How peaceful. How could he, a man who had more at risk than Childe, trust the man at his back so blindly?

Ajax put out the fire to deter any potential visitors then he crept closer to Zhongli. When he was certain Zhongli was sleeping, he picked up a few silky strands of hair and brought them to his lips. How strange to think that this hair was the string of fate which drew them together, that it was the source of their problems.

I’m sorry, Zhongli, about our contract.

[mikkock]

Uhm??????? Unacceptable?? Please tell me more about your OCs in that last art? I demand it? I want a full report on my desk before morning? Cite your sources please?

Oh no,, you’re asking,,, about my own faves,,, sorry to everyone, but I guess im never going to shut up ever now. (i already don’t shut up ever, what have u done, im now going to speak so much that society will collapse AT LEAST)

But for real. I enjoy pretending I don’t have faves, I love all my kids the same, buT WE ALL KNO THAT’S A LIE, those two my fave bitches (they snatched that title from the last two faves, rip to them, and they also snatched, n I must really make that clear, the title of “the bitches with the most AUs from the previous previous faves. Their power.)

SO. Get ready for a ride, table of content: them, their respective character, their story, and the pLETHORA OF ALTERNATE STORIES I GAVE THEM because i must yell about all the versions of my kids i have (non-exhaustive cause its that serious bro, but ill take extra time for the universe depicted in that art just for u bby). (tbh if clamp is allowed to sprinkle their fave gays in all their universes so am i, except they aint secondary characters there, every story is just theirs. love that concept.)(itll be so long you’re getting a whole novel even if i have to post it in two posts)

So~ Em twos. Dari n Wei-wei as I call em, or Dumbass n Egg if you wanna get friendly.

They’re my proudest instance of “oops i made a squad of characters, and two of them just accidentally were so perfectly compatible and complementary oh no I guess they’re in love now.” And then they became my favourite. Cause I guess their potential was too much (jk its bc they hot)

cuties.

I spent ten minutes wondering which to introduce first cause dang son, I want to talk bout them both so much shefjgfdg

First, as I technically designed him first (like ten minutes before the other), my man weiwei. if u ever saw my art its impossible that you havent seen him at least once. cause i’m legit always drawing him. cause im in love bro.

Demonstration : here are my computer scribbled weiweis of 2020 so far (with a few daris there n there they’re a package deal), that i could find, and they do not include all the paper sketches that i’m too lazy to take pics of. (i just been drawing him with so much hair these days that’s illegal, his brand is baldness)

But anyway, he’s CHEN Chia-Wei, he’s 21, he’s Taiwanese n I love him. Two very important facets of his character when you meet him: he doesn’t talk, and is absolutely, in every single dimension, built to make you fall head over heels for him.

He’s (in the “canon” storyline if i may call it that since it’s def not my most developed one but oh well) an art student, mostly paints but is also great at photography and videography (his vibe is busy hectic pieces with strong bold colours, lots of harsh edges, and very people focused).

Aside from that, he’s also super into fashion, and because he’s part of the rich boy squad (the “im broke so im giving half my characters wealth in compensation) he Can and Does exhibit some quite funky fits when he feels like it. (maybe a reason I draw him a lot, since my fave thing is pretty boys in weird ass clothes)(and then i also draw him in just casual shit cuz tittiful men in plain white tees you know. there’s just something about it.)

Small compilation of outfits. ft me and my band handwriting roasting outfits that id also kill to own but ok u know.

He digs music. (i make playlists for my OCs and i gotta say, his is the best one, i spent so many hours researching it, “arranging” it etc n its still a work in progress but dude. she got many moods my fave part is when it suddenly turns into so many cheesy ballads also she’s enormous cause im as wordy in playlists as I am in writing.) listens to a lot, n also he can play piano n guitar. cause you know. heartthrobs got to win your heart with a song (and if he’s alone he can even mumble some songs, who knows maybe even sing em softly, definitly a sight to stumble on accidentally). Big main artists that have his vibes are Hello Nico, No Party for Cao Dong, n Circa Waves’s “what’s it like over there” album.

He does a lot of sports. He ain’t fit through magic, rip to him. He’s got a serious routine, and it’s a time he likes to use alone, cause nothing like running at the break of dawn, alone with your thoughts, which you can just easily forget through the exhaustion of a workout session afterwards.

he also eats. A lot. Food is just good, bro. (the canon story is def happening some place europe aka his biggest struggle is how expensive food is here. outrageous.)

He secretly loves super cheesy movies. the dramatic romcoms??? the cute shows that are just so cute and worriless?? anything involving soulmates??? yeh dude. he watches it, he reads it, he listens to it, and he may cry about it, but no one will know. That’s the one true guilty pleasure. (and he definitly has a collection of romance dvds, books n manhuas in his old room back at the family home. where no one can see it. perks of studying abroad. no one can see ur hoarding of material that clashes your image. “yes i watch edgy experimental things haha yes i love those smart people movies of course wow the philosophy…” and then immediatly goes to watch the trashiest predictable but oh so sweet dramas all night)

While he doesn’t speak (as in with the mouth) he can communicate in a bunch of language, due to having moved around quite a bit. On top of his native mandarin and hokkien, he’s fluent in English, so he can use those to write, and is also fluent in TSL, and pretty good in HKSL (and from that, other close-in-syntax sign languages). So he doesn’t have trouble getting around, but then he is also overall quiet in public (with close friends and over text though, that’s another story, that’s where he gets chattier, and also where you may get more of his true personality). Also, he can speak with his sister. That’s pretty cool bro.

I was going to say he’s a very “hides his true colours under a shell” type of character but you know, for an egg character, that’s pretty ironic. We love poetic cinema.

He presents himself as a very laid back, chill detached dude, going with the flow and all that great stuff, and masterfully mixes just the right doses of mysterious, flirty and calm to just go around vibing. But ain’t that jUST THE MILLENIAL’S ILLNESS, those dANG KIDS, going around, gettin relationships but never intimacy 👏😢 (there’s more to it dont leave)

First of all, before you see the Drama, the Turmoil, the first thing you notice when you really do befriend him is that he’s c h i l d i s h, he gets sulky when things dont go following the plan, he gets whiny n jealous for not getting attention , he gets competitive over stupid challenges, and way too playful if you start teasing, and when he gets flustered too…you think you get cool stoic dude but actually you get a dude who’s reacting to things with way too much intensity, and boi i thought u were gon be mature what’s that why have you been pouting for three days over losing a bet come on- That’s mostly coming up when he interacts with his sister, but the closest you are to him to more of it you get to see.

He’s also an affectionate dude actually. Like physically. As in you’ll get spontaneous hugs. He’s come nap on your shoulder. That’s a perk of befriending him if you ask me.

Also he tries to look so cool, so tough haha. He’s actually a lil sensitiv boi. he gets fluffy, he gets flustered, he heart eyes. you turn around and he’s gazing at ya as if you were the whole universe. he gets a mini crisis for holding hands with his crush. ya know. he’s secretly a softie.

nerd.

Then in the “what he doesn’t show” (my fave part), where you stock all the anxieties, all the trauma… Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety here (selective muteness being a symptom of it, he hides the other ones very well) mostly fear of inadequacy, of abandonement and of loneliness. mmmmmmmaybe that’s why he was v reticent to continue pursuing that one guy he was into when he realised he was just a tad too into him oh no is that some,, like?? some lovey-love?? cant have that im afraid of gettin heartbroken bro. Aint that sad for a someone who’s one true goal is just findin someone to love and to be with forever, the struggles of yearnin for a soulmate when there’s nothing you fear more than getting attached to a person and letting them see you and your flaws.., delicious.

Now tho (because its so alone speaking about a character on their own and i just wanna get to the part where i can speak bout em together and how they bring out bits of each others ya kno, the good kush….), Dari…

He’s pretty, i must say, and got the funniest hair to draw, and comes from the most opposite background to weiwei’s.

Darian Andriev PARVANOV, also 21, comes from the remote Bulgarian countryside, but i still love him (this makes it sound as if i wouldnt normally love someone from the bulgarian countryside. its not what i meant. by default ud remind me of my son so you’d start being liked if u came from the bulgarian countryside) Now for the first instance of “wow, the complementarity”. The first thing i thought making Dari was that he looked too cool, and that he obviously was a dumbass, and mostly that he was physically unable to shut up. (o fuck he’s me)

best picture i could find of him. He’s got the dilemma of “wow he looked so pretty n cool until he opened his mouth” 

He’s ALSO an art student (cause they were initially created for the purpose of filling the gap of “i have ocs in every field except the one i sorta know that’s so stupid”), painting major (def vibes differently than weiwei though, he’s doing those soft pretty landscapes n flowers, everything real pretty and peaceful, we got some impressionism nerd in here folks). 

He was/is a real country boy, farm family, he helped tend the fields, he worked in plantations for pocket money, he knows how to take care of cattle and chicken and goats and all the cool babies you can take care of, he can tell whether the soil is good or not, he can drive a tractor, and doesnt fear dirt.

but then also he’s kind of a neat freak, he hates getting paint on himself, so the duality of man, dirt ok but paint? disgostin. his spaces are real neat and spotless, he likes cleaning (its relaxing) and does it nearly too often.

his dumbassery comes from lack of common sense and impulsiveness, aside from that he’s actually what you’d call “mad smart”, dude had em good grades, he can memorise pages upon pages of the most trivial information, he has an accumulation of knowledge beyond limits, and is good at problem solving. so he can recite all the words of the F letter of the dictionnary, but would also put a curling iron in his mouth to see if it would curl his tongue. (side note, he does have a problem with heat n fire, most his “oopsie how i wound up hurting myself on acccident” story involve burning -that stove was just too tempting…)

while he doesnt feel very attached to his home country, he does feel strongly for his family. he’d do anything for his mum (and actually does everything to make her proud already, that’s his one main goal), and he’s ready to sacrifice a lot for her (as in, spend years working non-stop a really uncomfortable job so his mother wouldnt have to pay a cent of his expenses even though she said she could by doing some sacrifices herself,and then being ready to come back as soon as needed if anything happened, and potentially drop his career and dream n go back to the farm life to provide for mama)(also he still does hold onto some parts of his home country’s traditions, and does sometimes feel homesick but more in a ‘i left the most beautiful landscapes n the city feels cramped and claustrophobic and i dont know people and i dont feel in the right place cuz im a forreigner with a thicc accent who doesnt master the language of this place and straight up have different body language communicators due to cultural difference oh lord i wanna be home where a nod means no and a head shake is yes i keep misunderstanding everything”)

if you want background noise he’s the perfect pal to call over, he’s just so chatty, he got hours and hours of non stop speech ready for you. you can shut him up once you’re done listening with the offering of food. works everytime.

he’s definitly not shy. neither in terms of talking to people, nor when it comes to making decisions. he’s quite bold, and rarely hesitates to go towards something he wants. he’s direct in his approach to most everything.

he likes partying. mostly the socialising part, talkin to people is just fun ya feel. and being in the crowd, doing whatever, pressure free? ya can dance n enjoy yourself, and people wont notice? yeah that’s nice. but doesnt do it super often cause broke bitches aint got the party time n budget. 

he likes arm. (just an excuse for me to drop this thing here cuz i like it)

While he’s an overall bubbly looking character, with a cheery loud personnality, he does carry some youth trauma that has him more reticent to engage in happiness, he comes from what you could call “not the wokest background” and he may have fallen victim of it : he’s kind of a flashy noticeable character, both physically and in his personnality, and doesnt exactly matches the expectations of dudes in the area he comes from (delicate, emotional and sweet guy? that doesnt exist bro). He went through it, and it has definitly had some impact on his confidence in many aspects. But he’s 100% the type of guy to put on the fake happy front because if feeling bad is sad, making the people you care about sad for you too is Unacceptable Right??? relying on friends?? what???

But then what are we supposed to be doing with such charming characters huh,,, 

Make them fall in love obviously.

Their story obviously has to do with falling in love and workin a relationship cause if I dont write romance i literally die, but I make the center pivot of all of it communication, and barriers in communications. Most obvious being them coming from wildly different cultures, having different native languages, and also the ways you adapt to muteness (what i love most bout that part is even then they fucked up given the easiest quickest small body language things to communicate are head nods n then i managed to make one come from the one country that reverses those like iconic how do they even understand each other -through a lot of work and love bro) but also on more “introspective” points, how to say things that you are even afraid to think about, how to open up and share your burdens and trauma with someone, how to say words you’ve been convinced you weren’t allowed to, the inner turmoil of communication in short. And then also communication through art, and through alternative unusual ways. If i were snobbish i could call it something like “a thinkpieces on how humans overcome obstacles in communication, and adapt, all for the sake of pursuing love” but fact is its mostly boys being in love n learning how to speak, figuratively and also quite literally. And also its me having fun with making characters evolve from each other, be able to influence each other for the better, helping each other be more comfortable with themselves and express the true things of their personnality, and discover new aspects. I just wanna write intense and soulful love bro.

So in less concept and more facts, weiwei meets dari, dari being his puppy self just immediatly strikes a conversation and weiwei gets interested cause “oho nice pretty boy? very good. i want some of that”. they get closer because you cant fight off the Power of friendship (and also the power of “what your friend is bestie with my friend?? guess we hanging out”) and then friendship and interest turns into pining, held back by respective dread of what romance with the other would mean (as in “romance?? cant have that we cant feel” and “with him?? cant do that, convince yourself he’s just a friend immediatly what would the family think”) but eventually they do have to just crash into one another cause that’s just the gravitational pull bro, its physics bro. and from then on its all unlearning destructive behaviours, bettering oneself with the help of the other, and getting over trauma to finally live ur best life. and gettin fckin married bro they’re both cheeseballs theyll wanna wed

BUT MAKING EM FALL IN LOVE ONCE ISNT ENOUGH time to make 3894853 alternate universes about em.

Lets speak bout my fave of those for a hot second.

First of all, the one of the art that brought this ask, guess i could call it “Pretty Tribes” AU, bunch of tribes live and do their things, having nature and energy powers. Dari n Weiwei’s tribes are bros, the latter’s powers needing them to move around to get energy from different places, enabling them different abilities. So basically they get to hang at the other’s place while the regenerate energy from there, and in exchange they help them out with various tasks (dari’s tribe is a rly farmer oriented one, with plant magic, while weiwei’s got more poyvalent powers, and have very good healers notably, so it comes in handy). The two boys were born a few months apart in their respective tribes, so naturally, anything the two clans meet, they’re put together to play and all, and from that they became besties, and each time they meet, after the gaps of time separating the two groups, they feel more and more of a little something else~ story is themed round growing up, friendship between clans, their traditions and cultures, and pretty boys in pretty clothes in pretty landscapes interacting with nature.

The superpower AU, i fuckin love it bro. Its an old one, made for other characters, but i just love it so much that i had to inject my faves in it. Its got a grimy ugly setting, bad government, propaganda, and fights between super-people (heavily mediatised for entertainment and reinforcing the idea that “look at these evil villains thank god us the good government protects you from them”), with a side of bad ethics in science. In all that, those two have the role of “those two young enemy warrior and villain, they were so powerful and fought so hard”, public figures, legendary and admired by both sides, everyone followed their fights, til one day they presumably died in one of their showdowns. (haha sike they actually found themselves talking for 5 seconds and realised they lived in a society, n built a plan to run away). The main characters get to find they’re alive because one of em had history with super-warrior-golden-boy and go to seek their help to overthrow the Big Bads. (stealing them from their nice gay cottage hermit life smh so rude)

Mermaids. I like those. Sailor weiwei sees merman dari, they both save each other in different occasions, they grow fascinated with each other, they’re at sea, water romance. Amazing. AU made half cuz i just like water n fish. and shirtless sailors.

(i couldnt find art of it in five minutes so have a link to that lil animatic piece i made of it once)

Indie band AU, where i was listening to songs that vibe so well with those two in general n then my brain was like “what if they’re the ones playing”. They’re (along with the rest of the art squad) a nice little alternative rock band, doing their thing, then one of their songs blows up, and they get quite the attention, to the dismay of dari who wrote that song in a moment of “oh no im so in love with my bandmate but i cant tell him what if i ruin everything we have going on ill just have to love from afar and deal with that” and now has way too many people interested in who he wrote it about and theorising from his every move when performing it (a mix of music, secret crushes and social media) (ft a picture of neither of them but its the least ugly art i found of this AU cuz its old and instruments are the bane of my existence)(also kelana is so pretty i gotta flaunt her around)

in kind of the same vibe, as in we’re in a music world overexposed to social media, i also integrated em to an AU i did for fun, “boyband AU” as its called aka idol based band system cuz you kno, i got a hobby, lets apply it. Band boy Dari and bodyguard Weiwei got a thing going on, but can’t really act on it in any way, because they’d just destroy the whole band if it ever came public. Featuring annoying bandmates, catchy pop songs and people making fanaccounts of that one hot Mr.Bodyguard cause dang he hot.

(all the art of this one so ugly im sorry)

SPY AU, one of my fave brand. They spies, they get assigned on the same mission, they work real nice with each other. spies hot. fights. strategy. i just like the concept. Gays taking down the worst traffics imaginable??? I love that song.(i actually have so much on this cause s p i e s are fuckin great)

Fashion. U kNOW i have an AU for fashion. Supermodel and his private stylist, trying to maintain the line of professionalism. And failing to do so. Lets make out in unpractical designer clothes.

Have an highschool AU for a bunch of characters, injected them as “spinoff”, start chatting online being art buddies, fall in love without meeting (ft. all the iconics of internet friendship like knowing tiny details of their personnalities but not the fact that they have a sister or “waIT ur a GUY i thought u were a girl wow wild good news for my gay ass”)

n those are my faves as far as i remember, i got a fuckton of small other ones that arent fleshed out enough, or some that are more of a guilty pleasure universe, and some that are more like “projects that i can expend on as soon as i run out of daydream material” (like u kno those hospital drama shows with super innacurate medicine n shit like idk scrubs or whatever, yeh i want some of that but im keeping it for later)

[ununniliad]

Writer's Block Person #45: "Black RX Friday*Story War 2019: Symphony of the Overcast Afternoon"

Writer's Block Person and Whisperion are out shopping on Black Friday!

"No we're not."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like us at all."

"I swore off shopping all this week."

Writer's Block Person and Whisperion are taking a nice walk thru the park on Black Friday! Crunching thru the leaves, moving their muscles, and disconnecting from the capitalist hubbub!

"I want to sit down and reconnect, tho," grumbled Writer's Block Person, zipping up their coat a bit higher.

"You gotta keep up your momentum in the fight against seasonal depression, yo," said Whisperion, using her staff as a walking stick. "Keep active and keep going. Besides, we need to walk at least twenty-five kilometers this week if we want to hatch all those eggs before the Hackemon GO event ends."

"Oooooh, this one's a shiny Bulbas.org... hm?" They looked up. A bit further up the trail, there was a man sitting on a bench. He seemed to be wearing an old gray hoodie, with the hood up, blue jeans and muddy sneakers; but over that, a sleek, expensive-looking tailcoat, elegantly tailored with a tapered waist and gold buttons, the tails dragging in the mud. His eyes weren't visible, but by the bits of chin and mouth they could see, he was unshaven and pale.

But what had really gotten their attention was that Writer's Block Person's queerplatonic partner, Gives Hugs Impetuously Lass, AKA Amethyst "Amy" Allenby, was stepping up next to him. "Pardon me, sir?"

"...yes?" His voice was hoarse, heavy, tired; a voice that had once shouted in triumph, but was laden down into the lower octaves by the weight of the world.

She bounced in place in her big puffy purple coat. "Sorry if this is too forward, but you really look like you need a hug!"

The edges of the man's mouth curved up, against the weight of his woes. "Thank you... but I don't deserve one." His head rose, and he looked at Writer's Block Person - eyes glowing green! "Not until I do penance for my sins."

"Uh," said Writer's Block Person, taking a step back.

"Ominous AF," murmured Whisperion, planting her staff in front of her, drawing on the strength of the earth.

The man swept his coat back, revealing an ornate golden belt buckle, with a section of ivory piano keys that were missing their middle C. Out of his pocket, without taking his eyes off Writer's Block Person, he pulled a red key with the word "Classic" written on it in gold, in a swooping, curving font. He slotted it into middle C, and played a few notes - the "dun dun dun duuuun" from Beethoven's 5th.

A deep, bombastic voice echoed thru the park's hills and valleys. "Music! Usenet! Heroes by the score! Burst Beetle Classical!"

Sheet music staves in scintillating red light swirled around the man's body, wrapping him in a cocoon of glowing music. As soon as it had surrounded him, the cocoon burst, revealing deep red armor, long black gloves and boots, and a shimmering version of the same tailcoat, whose material seemed to move with extra, armored weight, and whose arms and legs featured deep red sheet music staves. The eyes of his helmet were quarter-notes, stems crossed to form a V on his forehead, and flowing over the top of his head and down the back was a wig of wild white hair a la Beethoven.

"...I still stand by my statement of hug-needing," said Amy, crossing her arms.

"Burst Beetle Classical!" said Writer's Block Person, taking another step back in shock. "I remember him! He was active a couple years ago, fighting the Baroque Phantoms!"

"Oh, yeah..." said Whisperion, brow knitting. "There were a lot of toys, right?"

"Yeah, he licensed his image a lot. Toys, games, suchlike... I've got the Original Adventure Sountrack they put out, it's got a lot of good stuff." Writer's Block Person squeezed their fist. "But he disappeared after a while. I heard he defeated the boss of the Phantoms... wonder what he's been up to?"

The opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor played as Burst Beetle Classical cracked his knuckles. "Listen to the division of the violas," he murmured, lifting his arm. His finger snapped to point at Writer's Block Person as he shouted, "Their dark harmony shouts at you to repent!"

"Getting mad at you, looks like!" Whisperion lifted her staff off the ground, brought it up in a defensive position. "Might wanna transform!"

"Oh, right! HENSHINSPIRATION!" In a burst of sparkles, Writer's Block Person snapped into their default heroic form. "Lemme step in front, I should talk to him!"

"His eyes are still glowing!" called Amy, waving. "Do the hearty thing!"

"Yeah, precautions first, unlike the last seven times," snarked Whisperion, still in position.

"Eighth time's the charm! EMOTICONVERSION! CODE POINT HEAVY BLACK HEART!" A giant CGI heart appeared in front of Writer's Block Person, slamming into them and shifting their form into the one with the big heart-shaped gem on the chest, able to dispel dark magic and mental control.

"That's it..." murmured Burst Beetle Classical, glowing green eyes watching the updated transformation. "The sins of past generations... greater and heavier than ever! How dare you follow in my footsteps!" He took a deep breath and bellowed, "How dare you!" 

"Hey--" Writer's Block Person held their hands up in the air and pushed words out of their mouth as quickly as they could. "can-you-explain-what-you-mean-before-trying-to--"

But another key was already in Burst Beetle Classical's hand, a black key with a red, white and blue sword on it. He slammed it into place, playing a few notes of a funk beat based on 1980s action-drama TV soundtracks. 

The belt announced in its deep, sonorous voice, "Badass! Kick ass! Number one! Ultimate Ninja, fight on all!" A whirl of glowing cloth burst from the belt, becoming a bright orange tailcoat with black music staves. It flew around Burst Beetle Classical and dove into him from behind, replacing his coat in a burst of light, a red, white and blue headband forming around his helmet with the characters for "shinobi" embroidered in black.

Burst Beetle Classical pulled a katana out and held it horizontally, announcing, "Ninja arts! Hidden motion!" before disappearing in a blur.

"...beat me up." Writer's Block Person sighed. "I mean. It'll work someday."

"Where did he go?" Whisperion spun around, staff at the ready, no idea where to point it.

"Quick, Drew, switch to a combat-y form!" yelled Amy, waving her hand.

"Well, there's Skull With Cool Sunglasses, but I'm not really angry right now, just confu--" KCHAM! A sword slashed across WBP's back, and they shouted, sparks rising up, and fell forward! Burst Beetle Classical stood behind them, katana ready for another strike!

"There!" Whisperion leapt forward, and brought down her staff!

"Ninja arts! Substitution!" When the staff connected, a burst of smoke flew up - and when the smoke cleared, the figure in front of Whisperion was nothing but a log!

"...waitasec!" Amy extended her somebody-needs-a-hug senses to the fullest! "THERE!" She leapt and wrapped a seemingly ordinary forest log in her arms - and in a poof, said log transformed into a be-huggled Burst Beetle Classical, trying to squirm away but slowed down by his own need for human contact!

"A-hah!" Writer's Block Person pushed themself upright and spread their arms! A corcusating beam of energy blasted from their gem, pink hearts slamming into Burst Beetle Classical - and bouncing off!

Amy strained, eyes shut tight in concentration. "I can feel at... the energy of connection is being deflected... by his own guilt!!"

The glow in Burst Beetle Classical's eyes flared, and a wave of green energy, well, burst from his body, throwing Amy, WBP, and Whisperion back. The Ultimate Ninja key floated up out of his belt, orange tailcoat dissolving into black, and he contemptuously grabbed it out of the air. 

With his other hand, Burst Beetle Classical pulled out a black key with an LCD-green edge, with the letters "ESC" written at the top in the same color. He slammed it into place and played the first few notes of Burly Brawl.

"Caffeine! Keyboards! Hack the planet!" announced the belt. "You're the ultimate Renegade Programmer!" A black tailcoat covered in flowing patterns of bright green musical notes flew out of the belt and flew around, merging with him in another burst of light, and a glowing green beard grew out of the chin of his helmet.

"For the luvva..." Whisperion pulled herself up on her staff, giving Writer's Block Person a hand up. 

She sent healing, empowering energy into their body, and they shook themself out. "Never good at these multi-stage RPG bosses," they said, getting into a defensive pose.

"That's why you need to level up your healer," Whisperion grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Was that innuendo, or--"

Burst Beetle Classical thrust his hands into the air, and glowing holographic keyboards appeared in front of them. "Moby hack!" he shouted. "Fork bomb!" 

"--oh right the fighting"

Glowing green forks appeared in the air, zooming forward before stopping and exploding into twice as many forks, which zoomed and exploded into twice more, creating a Touhou-esque pattern that sent Writer's Block Person and Whisperion dodging. Whisperion spun her staff, knocking forks out of the air, and--

"Wait, wait!" shouted Amy. "Hang on a sec!" She pointed to a happy couple, walking thru the late-autumn leaves with a bouncing, joyful puppy.

The forks froze in midair, as did the net.heroes. The puppy barked and scampered around their ankles until the couple gently tugged him away. "Thank you!" they called.

"Do not mention it," rumbled Burst Beetle Classical. Then the forks burst back into motion!

Writer's Block Person and Whisperion rolled to the sides, dodging and darting, making their way thru the field of forks. They were almost there when Burst Beetle Classical slammed his hands dramatically down on the keyboards, producing a sonorous piano chord. "Moby hack!" he proclaimed. "Magic smoke!" A mouth opened on his helmet, and glowing green smoke poured out, wrapping around the two net.heroes, holding them tight despite their struggles! 

Burst Beetle Classical stepped forward, smoke swirling around, deadly intent focused on the two of them--

--which left him open to a hug from Amy! As her compassionate touch took hold, his deadly intent dissipated along with the smoke!

Writer's Block Person said "Right!" Whisperion put a hand on their back, pouring energy into them, and their heart-beam blasted out, enwrapping Burst Beetle Classical with charged-up love energy, hearts bouncing off but digging into his emotional walls nonetheless!

"Sir!" shouted Amy, holding Burst Beetle Classical tight. "Please, what's wrong? We want to help!"

He struggled, eyes flaring... but a deep, sad voice boomed out from behind his helmet... "My mission was one of justice, of stopping the powers that sought to bring back the great empires of the past! But I gave in to the great empires of the present when I sold my image!" His voice raised in anger. "On this, this--" Venom and loathing coated his tongue! "This shopping holiday, parents buy their children mass-produced toys of me, games, roleplay accessories - and lock them into a toxic symbiosis with great corporations who do not truly care about them, who will make toys simply to push dopamine buttons for dollars!" Smoky green energy seemed to swirl around him, nearly obscuring his form as a violent hum rose in the background.

"Sugar honey iced tea!" swore (?) Amy, flinching back, still trying to hold tight. "His rage is boiling!"

"Okay," said Writer's Block Person, squinting over the brightness of their beam, "but why are you attacking me!?"

Burst Beetle Classical snarled. "You, who gladly took on the mantle of 'toyetic'! You, who recycle all those little tricks that the corporations use, the flash and bang that takes over young brains!"

"Criminy!" Amy leapt back, rubbing her arms.

"You took this on knowing... YOU ARE MY ENEMY!" A huge glowing column of green light burst out of Burst Beetle Classical, shooting up into the sky. 

When it faded, he was floating in the air, his original outfit rimmed with crackling green flames, head down, limbs hanging like a marionette. Fifteen or so keys floated in the air in a circle around his body, and one by one, each of them zoomed into the belt, hitting it with a green flash, the flames leaping higher with each one. When they had all zoomed in and Burst Beetle Classical's body was consumed by the flames, the belt's voice boomed out again, but crackling and warped. "Classically corrupted! Classically chaos!"

The flames grew into a ball of fire twice the size of his body before bursting. When Burst Beetle Classical's form was revealed, he was standing up perfectly straight, toes pointed downwards. The tails of his black coat were enormous, barely above the ground despite his toetips being above Writer's Block Person's head. His armor was covered in Cover Gallery covers, but they seemed to flicker and glitch constantly. There was an exaggeratedly long conductor's baton in his hand, a flickering green flame at the tip. His wig was a constantly burning green flame, and sitting in the V on his forehead was a portrait of the planet Neme.sys. The belt finished, "Size Of The Entire Death Universe Man!"

"Holy crap!" said Writer's Block Person.

"Oh no..." muttered whisperion.

Amy sighed and shook her head. "Rassum frackum emotional armor..." She pulled out her cell phone and started dialing.

"Legion Death Together!" Burst Beetle Classical swung his baton in the air dramatically before bringing it down. "Peril Room Test of Doom!" A circle of glowing green katanas appeared around him, slicing and spinning towards our heroes!

"For pete's sake!" Whisperion spun her staff, knocking three away at once, dodging and rolling! "I sure hope you're feeling sufficiently active and connected right now, Drew!"

"Are you kiddin', we're missing a raid!" Writer's Block Person grinned and released a beam of pink light, shattering the swords made of negative energy! "But I don't feel depressed!"

"YOU DARE PLAY GAMES WITH MY RAGE!?" The swords froze in midair, every single one of them converging on Writer's Block Person!

"HECK!!" They tried to spin and dodge, but blades of anger cut across their armor, raising sparks and plumes of smoke! They spun and fell!

"Crap!" Whisperion ran over to Writer's Block Person's prone, smoking form, standing over them with her staff raised. "Are you okay?"

"well..." Writer's Block Person coughed. "not the best..."

Burst Beetle Classical let out a deep, rich, bitter chuckle, like a bar of single-source dark chocolate. "And now... the coda of your corruptive movement." He raised the flaming end of his baton in the air. "Legion Death Together! Twenty-Seven-on-One Strike!" 

There was a dramatic viola cord, and out of the ground around Writer's Block Person and Whisperion, ghosts rose up; the glowing, green, glitching ghosts of nameless net.heroes, who had never appeared in any roster, whose origins had been lost to time, disappearing in the entropic deaths of ancient newsgroups!

The faded figures positioned themselves, as if in the middle of a jumping kick, soles positioned to strike Writer's Block Person and Whisperion full force! Burst Beetle Classical readied his baton, readied to bring it down and send the colossal contingent of confabulated net.heroes crashing down on them!

And then...

"Boom! Bkoom!"

"Rarr! Raerr!"

Burst Beetle Classical turned towards the cliff overlooking the battle. There - a movie screen with big speakers on either side, and a digital projector playing a video - a video of - toys!

On the screen was an action figure of Burst Beetle Classical, shot from close-up on what was clearly a phone propped up on something. Next to it was a figure of Burst Beetle Galant, his former partner in heroism. Two hands held rubber dinosaurs, which crashed into the action figures, knocking them down.

"Boom!" said a young, feminine voice from above. "Bam! Oh no!" The hands put down the dinosaurs and wiggled Classical back and forth. "We've been defeated by the defeatasaurs! If only someone could help us!"

"I can do it!" said the same voice but trying to sound deep and dramatic. A hand came in holding a fashion doll but with pieces of purple armor and a cape stuck on with scotch tape, plus a wide-brimmed red fedora; she had a lazer gun taped to one hand and a magic wand taped to the other.

"Miss Ultra Ultimate!" wiggled the Galant figure. "You've come to save us!"

"That's right! Ultimaaaaaate... kiiiiick!" The fashion doll's legs smacked into the dinosaurs, which topped to the sides after a couple smacks.

The hands stood the Burst Beetles back up. "Wow!" said the Classical figure, bouncing up and down. "You're so beautiful, brave and smart~!"

"Nothing to it, citizen! Let's go save the city... together!" Miss Ultra Ultimate and the Burst Beetles bounced offscreen, and a face lowered into frame, young and enthusiastic, a girl framed by floofy ringlets. "Tune in next time for the further adventures of Miss Ultra Ultimate and friends!" A hand came around, fumbling a moment, and the screen went blank.

Burst Beetle Classical stared at the screen. In the background, the phantom net.heroes dissolved into wisps of emerald fog. "Is..." He shook his head, tossing his baton to the side, running his fingers thru his flaming wig. "I'm sorry, but is this supposed to change my mind? This--" He gestured at the screen, hand out, trying to banish it. "This girl's been, been taken in, just like everyone else!"

"hey can you... yeah thanks..." Whisperion helped Writer's Block Person to their feet, and they clambered up on top of a handy boulder, gesturing grandly so their cape flapped out in the air. "If you think the dreams of children don't matter..." They pointed an accusing finger at Burst Beetle Classical. "Then you're the one who's been taken in!"

"What!?" Classical fell to the ground, stumbling in a defensive position, head whipping back and forth, body language shaken.

"psst here you go," whispered Writer's Block Person to Whisperion.

"Oh! Right, yeah!" She stood up straight, planting the butt of her staff in the ground and pointing at Burst Beetle Classical. "Fun and play, emotion and investment - these are things created by people, not corporations! And toys are their tools to create it!"

Writer's Block Person raised their fists in the air, clenching dramatically. "We who try to stand outside as the system as much as we can-- we walk in your footsteps, so that we may connect your path to ours!"

"Jeez finally!" came a voice from above Burst Beetle Classical. He looked up, and Amy was standing on the tree branches above him! She pointed down, straight into his soul! "You were another source of labor, exploited by capitalism, and your labor was and is wonderful silliness! You are worth it!!"

Burst Beetle Classical put his hands on his head. The green flames, on his wig, on his costume, leapt high - then froze, glowing glass sculptures - then, in an instant - shattered!

"FINALLY!" Writer's Block Person let loose their biggest blast of soulful energy yet, red and pink hearts sparkling as they slammed into Burst Beetle Classical's form! They hit a wall of green energy and pushed it back, peeling it away, Classical no longer holding on-- inch by inch, pushing back-- then a POP!

Burst Beetle Classical fell to the ground, detransformed, and above him, a green, crystalline sphere shimmered into existence!

"Something else?!" said Whisperion, raising her staff and pointing it at the sphere.

"That must be what was pumping that resentful energy into his body!" Amy ran over to Burst Beetle Classical's prone form, pulling him into a protective hug.

"...fbwuh," said Classical, shaking his head. "what... oh." His head lolled back as the memories struck him. "of course... when I felt my frustrations, my anxieties, my scrupulous need to fix things leaping up, overpowering me... it was... him..."

"Who?" said Writer's Block Person, in a defensive pose, gem steaming slightly in the cold late-November air.

"Meeeee," rumbled a deep voice in a minor key. Out of the green globe, a form made of emerald energy rose; a humanoid, with long, clawed fingers, winkled skin, wearing an ornate outfit, with the sphere in the center of his chest. "The last general of the Baroque Phantoms... General Rococonqueror!!"

"...uuuuuugh," said Writer's Block Person, crossing their arms. "Come on, man. You're defeated! All your other dudes were defeated long ago! We've already talked this guy down, you should see reason and join the side of kindness and empathy too!"

"Ha ha ha, never!" Green lightning sparkled from General Rococonqueror's fingertips. "Fools, you have not stopped me from bringing about the resurrection of Lord Trentula!"

"Uuuuuuugh!" shouted Writer's Block Person, stamping their foot. "That's so frustrating!!"

Whisperion put her hand on Writer's Block Person's shoulder. "You know, you do plenty of talk-people-to-a-good place stories. Just like toys are fun, it's also okay to have a fun, combat-y ending sometimes too."

They sighed and smiled under their helmet. "I guess."

"I... agree!" Burst Beetle Classical took a deep breath and pushed himself to a kneel, drawing strength from Amy's powerful embrace. "You've reminded me.. that a man is more... than a miserable pile... of duties!" He pulled another key out of his coat, this one bright green with a puppy joyously leaping along its length. "Music is joy... and I'll bring joy... to the world!" He slammed the key into middle C, and tapped out notes with deliberation.

Whisperion listened to the music and murmured, "Chest-nuts roasting on an open fire~"

Whirling cloth burst from the belt, a rich red tailcoat with fuzzy white trim flying about and slamming into Burst Beetle Classical. When the light cleared, Classical wore white armor with black spots, and black gloves and boots with white spots. To the sides of his helmet were a pair of floppy, fuzzy ears. The belt's sonorous voice announced, "Miracles! Magic! Ho-ho-ho! Caulflower the Christmas Miracle Pooch, go!"

"And now..." Burst Beetle Classical spread his arms, and from his belt, three globes of golden energy zoomed out, stopping in front of Whisperion, Amy, and Writer's Block Person. "New toys for all!"

"Oh, thank you so much!" Amy spread her arms and wrapped them around the globe. It flared with light, and when the light faded, Amy was wearing a rust-red dog kigurumi, with a cute hood with floppy ears, and a comfy, cable-knit green sweater with a pattern of pit maltadoodles jumping and playing on it. She wore a pair of elbow-length padded huggling gloves, and a pair of chunky, toyetic red boots.

"Huh, rad!" Whisperion touched her staff to the globe, and it flared. When the light faded, Whisperion was wearing golden armor, trimmed in silver, with heraldric dogs facing each other in green on her breastplate. Her cape had become gold and silver, layers of feathers overlapping one another, and she wore chunky, toyetic golden boots.

"Heck yeah, new transformation time!" The globe flew to the gem on Writer's Block Person's chest and flared. When the light faded, the gem was shaped like an evergreen tree. They wore green armor with a red bodysuit underneath (printed with a pattern of Christmas lights), gold trim, and a pair of chunky, toyetic green boots.

"FOOLS!" General Rococonqueror pumped both fists, a spinning aura of green flame manifesting around him. "That pathetic plinkerer's tinkly tricks won't work anymore! I'm four times more powerful than you once knew me, Classical!"

"That sounds just about right, then!" Burst Beetle Classical pulled out his baton and dramatically twirled its end. "Everybody! Compass formation!"

Amy drew back to the west of the monster, Whisperion to the east, Writer's Block Person to the south. Burst Beetle Classical stood to the north, and raised his baton high. All four pairs of boots began glowing with gold and silver sparks, and their wearers began to float into the air.

"omg I've never flown before," murmured Amy, eyes sparkling.

"It's always amazing," said Whisperion, grinning from ear to ear.

"But this is gonna be even better!" said Writer's Block Person, posing in midair.

"Bah! AND BAH AGAIN!" General Rococonqueror shook his fists at Burst Beetle Classical. "This fruitless joy you've found is meaningless! This toxic world--" He reared back one of those fists, a fireball wrapping around it. "Will ever overcome you!!" He whipped his fist forward, the fireball bursting out!

A tiny flick of his baton, and Burst Beetle Classical flicked the fireball away! "Perhaps! But they've reminded me - the battle is worth fighting anyway!" He raised both hands in the air, and each hero's left boot flared with gold and silver light, as they floated up above General Rococonqueror! "Let's crescendo!! Speak the words in your heart!"

In perfect sync, Amy, Whisperion, and Writer's Block Person shouted, "QUADRUPLE MIRACLE KICK!"

Burst Beetle Classical brought his hands down! Each of their left feet sliced thru the air, perfect jump kicks coming together in a pyrotechnic detonation of light!

When the light faded, they landed on the ground, one by one, in easy, relaxed positions, facing away from the center. And inbetween them landed the green crystal globe, steaming with energy.

"...whew," said Burst Beetle Classical, turning around and picking up the globe. He took a silver quarter-note from his belt and touched it to the globe, and little silver music staves wrapped around it, locking it up tight. "Thank you. I had become lost, and... I lashed out, in what I thought was righteousness, but was in fact thoughtless fear."

"We've all been there," said Writer's Block Person. "That's how we know how to pull each other out." They extended a hand, and Burst Beetle Classical shook it.

"So, Amy," said Whisperion, "why were you out here in the first place?"

"Oh!" Amy pounded her fist into her hand. "That's right! There's a Hackemon GO raid happening down at the other entrance to the park, in..." She looked at her phone. "Seven minutes!"

"Oh crap!" Writer's Block Person detransformed and started running down the lane. "C'mon, let's hurry!"

"Uh," said Burst Beetle Classical, following. "I don't know what that is."

"That's okay!" Amy took his hand and pulled him along. "Let's go have fun!"

And off they went, shining under the gray sky.

[hysmpod]

Transcript: Have You Seen Me? Episode One: Kitty Scott is Missing

Hey listeners! Sorry this took us a while. We at HYSM? are dedicated to accessibility in the audio drama community and will always make transcripts free to everyone. If you are interested in viewing annotated scripts, though, they are soon to be available to patrons! For as little as $1 per episode, you can get early access to episodes as well as these annotated scripts and other goodies. Click here to learn more.

Without further ado, here is the transcript for Episode One: Kitty Scott is Missing.

SFX: A cassette tape click. OPHELIA takes a deep breath, a second. When she speaks it is with a slight tremble.

OPHELIA

This is going to be difficult to say. When I first started using this recorder, I never thought I would be doing anything serious with it. Not like this, I mean. I always thought our investigations were serious and important, like it mattered that we were proving something’s existence. I mean, ghosts are real, but of course we knew that way before we put it on cassette. We agree that if Bigfoot does exist, and we aren’t saying that they do, they should just be left alone. Three-eyed deer who will draw you into the woods to great fortune or great peril… again, some of us remain unconvinced, but I myself am a believer. 

I… The date is April 19th. My best friend, Kitty Scott, has been missing for almost 48 hours. And I have no idea where she is.

To say it’s unlike her would be a gross understatement, but I guess that’s what a lot of people say, right? When people go missing? “It seems so unlike them. I can’t imagine why. You think you know somebody.”

The thing is that I do know Kitty. I know her better than I know anybody in the world, even Isaac, even myself. Her brother James--who can go straight to you-know-where at his earliest possible convenience--he says that she skipped town. And that’s what everybody thinks, but it isn’t true. I’m sure of it. Kitty wanted to leave, but she wouldn’t. She’s still here. Somewhere.

So, who’s on my side? Isaac, for sure. He’s known Kitty for her whole life--well, everyone here has--but she’s basically lived here for the last two years. He not her best friend, but he is her best friend’s uncle and legal guardian, so close enough.

Sheriff Hayle will back me up, I bet. She’s something of a mystery herself, sure, but when it comes down to it she is smart as anything and hates James just about as much as I do. Not great for mayoral-police relations, but I don’t think anybody really cares that much. If I tell her what I know, she’ll believe me. Oh, maybe she’ll even let me work the case with her! Oh my god, Kitty will think it’s hilarious. “Detective Ophelia Joy, Amsterdam PD! Pew pew pew pew pew!” Yeah, I like it.

And then there’s the new kid. He’s already offered to help, which is great news. It’s kind of hard to get a read on him, but he seems honest enough. Pretty sharp. Nice and all.

Maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. We never get new folks in town, so I don’t really have a lot of room for comparison. Everyone I know is someone I’ve known for years. And someone who’s known Kitty for years, which will either be very good or very, very bad. She has a very unique… and… strong personality. That I love, obviously.

But I guess that’s the team. Isaac, Sheriff Hayle, the new kid, and me. Now I guess we do what detectives do; we look over what we know. We investigate what we don’t. We solve the case!

Let’s break it down.

SFX: A click as the tape ends. 

After a moment:

KITTY

Bug, I love you, but that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.

OPHELIA

Just think about it--

KITTY

Ghosts? Why not. Werewolves? Okay, fine. I’ll even take a stab at fairies if they aren’t the Tinkerbell kind. But what you’re spouting is bullshit, babe.

OPHELIA

What is so hard to believe about a three-eyed deer?

KITTY

(Dramatically) The three-eyed deer, eerie in its grace, its centerfold eye radiating gold. Beware its gaze, or it may steal thine soul! “Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell / That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.”

OPHELIA

...Well when you quote Macbeth you make it sound stupid. 

KITTY

Shakespeare was right about a good many things.

OPHELIA

But this is real. I’ve been doing research at the library archives, and--

KITTY

You’ve been sneaking into the library archives when Mrs. Fumero isn’t looking.

OPHELIA

I’ve been sneaking into the library archives when Mrs. Fumero isn’t looking. And there have been multiple accounts of these deer. Not like, on the front page, but still. A lot of people say they felt compelled to follow them into the woods, where great danger surely awaited… or greatest fortune.

KITTY

You see? How does that not sound fake?

OPHELIA

Truth is stranger than fiction, dear.

KITTY

(Tsks) Listen to us, sounding like an old married couple. And you know what wives do for their wives? They tell them how the Scottish play ends.

OPHELIA

They tell them how the Scottish play ends?

KITTY

Oh, would you? You’re a doll.

OPHELIA

You can memorize it--not even one of the best lines--but you can’t bother reading all of it?

KITTY

Please don’t question my genius, Bug. And I know you didn’t read it either. You just watched some high school performance on YouTube!

OPHELIA

It was meant to be seen and not read anyway.

(She sighs)

Pretty much everyone dies because MacB isn’t fit to be king. Um, Lady MacB gets obsessive about washing her hands clean of blood and then dies. The witches give ole Mickey a prophecy that no man born of a woman can kill him, so Macduff kills him because his mother had a C-Section, so he wasn’t technically born, so he can kill Macbeth.

KITTY

Wow. That shit’s depressing.

OPHELIA

What do you think “the Tragedy of Macbeth” means? It’s on the front cover!

KITTY

Bold of you to assume I read what I don’t have to. As exciting and invigorating as this is, I better get going. It's, like, ugh, midnight, and that essay’s due first period. It’s not going to write itself! I would know, I’ve bet on that happening before.

That ending’s kind of stupid, anyway. Lady MacB could have killed him. She’s not a man of woman born, right? A little stab there, a little “I am no man!” Lord of the Rings, baby!

OPHELIA

Eowyn could take me out, honestly.

KITTY

Like a date, or with her sword?

OPHELIA

I’m impartial.

KITTY

I feel it. Hey, we’re gonna meet at the Igloo after school, right? You promised a birthday sundae, and if you fail to complete your end of the bargain, well… (Her voice drops) You may meet an unfortunate accident.

OPHELIA

(Laughs) I won’t let you down, boss. 

SFX: Kitty leaves and walks down the stairs

Hey, what do I get out of this?

KITTY

(Distantly)You get to hang out with me! Love you, Bug!

SFX: The door slams behind her.

OPHELIA

Love you too.

SFX: A cassette tape clicks.

OPHELIA

I hate the phrase “the last time I saw her.” Let’s call it the most recent time instead. It seems more confident. It was the night before her birthday, the 17th. Well, April 17th, and she turned 18 on the 18th. Oh, this could get confusing. Okay, so let’s call April 18th the day of the incident, which is also her birthday. But, come to think of it, we don’t know whether whatever happened… happened on the day of the incident, the 18th. It could have happened very late on the 17th, when I saw her most recently.

Oh my god, this would be way clearer written down. Curse my dyslexia! Pens are way too slow, and the computer is even slower. Tape, you are the only constant in life. I owe it all to you, buddy.

In any case, we don’t know when the uh… the incident, uh, incited. I used to ask her to text me when she got home, but she always forgot, so I kind of gave up. I haven’t talked to James or Lizzie yet. Which is to say that they’ve tried their best not to talk to me. Sometimes I forget that Lizzie used to be my babysitter. She used to be so cool before she married that d-bag.

It’s like once they got married they started sharing all of his baggage. I’m an only child, so maybe I just don’t get it, but aren’t you supposed to love your siblings? Maybe that’s a lie fed to me by years of TV, but I thought the worst it was supposed to be was a few pranks, maybe a scuffle. I’ve never seen people with as bad of a relationship as Kitty and James. I don’t think he’s ever given a crap about her, and she knows it. It’s a wonder the whole town doesn’t know it, but he’s the golden child. He could probably kill someone and they’d forgive him for it.

(Pauses) He wouldn’t, would he?

Okay, maybe I need to get a little perspective before I accuse the mayor of murder. He probably didn’t do it, but I wouldn’t put it past him, morally speaking. Can you hire a hitman in Ohio? I don’t think so, but it might be worth looking in to.

(She clears her throat)

Back on the case. At first I didn’t realize that anything was wrong. We don’t have any classes together before lunch, but I didn’t see her at our usual table. I asked around, but Cassidy B said that she didn’t see her in geometry or English. I texted her during lunch, but she didn’t respond in time for the next class.

Now, when your friend doesn’t show up to school one day, typically your first thought is that she’s sick. Maybe she’s throw up, or she has a fever. Say it’s her birthday, which it was; Maybe she’s skipped class to play video games all day. It wouldn’t be out of character.

I, on the other hand, had the initial thought that she had been kidnapped. After she left that night, I admit that I watched a few… or a lot of true crime videos online. I can’t stop thinking about the case about this girl from the early 2000’s. She was a child genius, she played a ton of instruments, that kind of thing. Then one night, a man that once did construction on her family’s house broke in through her window and kidnapped her. It took them months to find her, and among the other unspeakable things that happened to her, she had been hidden in plain sight. Her kidnapper would dress her up in a disguise--you know: glasses, a wig, a veil--and called her his wife, and hardly anyone was the wiser.

The whole thing is pretty scary. No, it’s more than that. The idea that it could happen to you, or to anyone, even, it keeps you up at night. The idea that there’s just something right in front of you, and you just can’t see it. 

Better keep my eyes open, I guess.

SFX: A click as the tape ends.

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

SFX: Bird chirping.

KITTY

This is Kitty. Leave a message, or don’t. The choice is yours. Use it wisely.

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

KITTY

This is Kitty. Leave a message--

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

KITTY

This is Kitty--

SFX: Bells jingle as Ophelia walks into the Igloo. Birdsong fades.

EMPLOYEE

(Bored to death) Sorry man, cash only.

LIAM

Wait, for real?

EMPLOYEE

That’s what it says on the sign. We don’t even have a card reader.

LIAM

(Stumbling over his words) Okay. Then you can just--keep it, I guess.

OPHELIA

Hey, wait! I can cover it for you.

LIAM

Really?

OPHELIA

Yeah. It’s, what, a tornado with M&M’s? Those things are like, two dollars. It’s not a big deal.

LIAM

I can pay you back, I promise.

OPHELIA

Deal. And can I get two sundaes, the works?

EMPLOYEE

Sure thing, ‘Felia.

LIAM

Felia?

OPHELIA

Oh, it’s a nickname. The whole thing is Ophelia Florence Joy, which is exactly why I go by Fee.

LIAM

Yeah, that checks out. I’m Liam. Summers. Liam Ferdinand, if you want the whole thing.

OPHELIA

I must say, that’s a pretty good one.

LIAM

Thanks, I picked it out myself and everything.

OPHELIA

You’re not from around here, are you? Not to be weird, but I would remember seeing you. We don’t get a ton of fresh faces outside of summer fair season.

LIAM

I was hoping it wouldn’t be so obvious, but yeah, my parents and I just moved here. Yesterday, actually.

OPHELIA

I didn’t see any moving trucks. Um, where are you...

LIAM

Birch street. On the other side of downtown from here, I think.

EMPLOYEE

(In the background) Two sundaes, plus the tornado, that’s seven.

OPHELIA

Here. That’s a really nice area. You might be neighbors with my best friend. Have you met Kitty yet?

LIAM

You’re actually the first person I’ve really talked to here. We just got to town last night, and we had to switch banks when we moved here, right? So I don’t have an account at the new bank and I spent all my cash on road trip snacks. Hence, the credit card fiasco and my debt to you.

OPHELIA

(Sighs) I was kinda hoping you’d met her. She hasn’t been responding to me all day.

LIAM

Is she sundae number two?

OPHELIA

Yep. You know, this could really work out well for both of us. Want a ride home?

SFX: The recorder clicks on.

OPHELIA

Like I said, the new kid is pretty cool. He’s from New York--the city, not just the state--which automatically makes him the coolest person I know. Kitty would kick me for even daring to imply that it isn’t her, but she’s never even left this town, so that’s that. I mean, aunt Jen is from Jersey, but it’s not quite the same.

You technically aren’t supposed to be on the phone while you’re driving, but I figured I would make an exception while I drove the new kid home to call James’ office to see what was what. His assistant, Janet, definitely knows that he has something out for me. She didn’t even bother giving me some dumb excuse, like “he was in a meeting.” She just put me on hold for the whole ten minute drive to Birch Street. Birch… you know, there’s a scathing rhyming joke I could make, but hey, high road.

As I guessed, Liam now lives right next door to the Scott residence. I say right next door as if there isn’t three acres between every house on that road. It isn’t a very neighborly area, but then again, neither is my house, so I have no room to talk.

Macey answered Kitty’s door. She’s about six or seven now, and she’s already really smart. Kitty loves those kids, Macey and Junior. Which is why, when Lizzie came to the door and told me that Kitty hadn’t come home that night, I got out of there pretty quickly. I think kids understand more than we give them credit for.

SFX: Recorder clicks off. 

SFX: The sounds of light traffic. 

SFX: A door slams, followed by...

SFX: the sound of running as Ophelia approaches the police station.

OPHELIA

Sheriff Hayle! Sheriff Hayle! 

SFX: She trips over gravel.

Sh--I’m fine! I’m fine.

HAYLE

Jesus, kid. Almost made me drop my tea. What’s got you screaming?

OPHELIA

I--She, Kitty, she--

ISAAC

Fee, what’s wrong?

OPHELIA

She--Uncle Isaac, what are you doing here?

ISAAC

I got off early. I’m having tea with a friend. Ophelia, what’s going on?

OPHELIA

Kitty didn’t make it home last night. Sheriff Hayle, she was over at my house until maybe midnight, and then she left, and then I didn’t hear from her, and her sundae melted, so I went to her house and Lizzie said she didn’t come back, and I-- You know, not to jump to conclusions but--

HAYLE

Let’s take a deep breath, okay? You’re not just jumping, you’re headed for the trampoline. You sure she’s not just at a friend’s house?

OPHELIA

Sheriff, you know Kitty and I aren’t the kind of people to have two whole friends. We refer to those as “backup buds.”

HAYLE

Have you talked to James?

OPHELIA

I tried. It went about as well as you wouldd expect.

HAYLE

I’ll probably have better luck. You said you saw her last night? 

OPHELIA

Yeah. Hey, here's an idea; I’ll head along Mulberry, see if I can spot any clues, maybe talk to some neighbors? I bet Angela Bryant saw her drive by, that woman is always up late--

HAYLE

I don’t think so. Isaac’s gonna drive you home, and you’re gonna stay there. You’ve had enough excitement for today, I think. 

OPHELIA

Um, sorry? I’m not going to sit down while Kitty’s god-knows-where! What if she’s hurt, or, or scared?

HAYLE

Young lady, are you doubting my ability to do my job?

OPHELIA

(Quietly) I mean, a little.

HAYLE

Ophelia, I’ve known you for a long time, and I like to think I know you pretty well, you and Kitty both. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re going to try to take this into your own hands. How many times have I caught you hopping my back fence?

OPHELIA

Only, like, three times. Four, tops.

HAYLE

This isn’t the case of the missing garden rake, you hear me? We don’t know quite what this is yet, but if it’s serious business I can’t get a civilian tangled up in it all. Not only for your sake. I need you to think of Kitty. If you start poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I don’t know what could happen.

OPHELIA

Sounds like a threat.

HAYLE

Jesus, Joy. You know I didn’t mean it like that!

ISAAC

Come on, both of you. Nothing’s getting done just standing here. 

OPHELIA

Fine. But you’ll let me know if you find anything, right?

HAYLE

Sure, kid. Sure.

SFX: Ophelia and Isaac walk across gravel.

SFX: Car doors open and shut.

SFX: Street noises fade.

SFX: The engine starts.

ISAAC

How about we go home? I think there’s some pizza in the fridge.

OPHELIA

Okay.

ISAAC

(The most awkward man alive) Just watch, Ophelia. Things are… They’re gonna be okay.

SFX: Recorder clicks on.

OPHELIA

As you can probably guess, I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Maybe three hours, tops. I didn’t hear from Sheriff Hayle that afternoon, but later that night Isaac told me that James had no idea where she was, either. They didn’t find her car, cell phone. Nothing. It’s like she was whisked away. Not in Kansas anymore. Now there’s just… hoping and waiting.

Wow, I couldn’t even convince myself for five seconds, huh? I know the sheriff has good intentions, but she’s got to be the dumbest person alive if she thinks I’m going to sit back like a good little girl while she does all the work. I’ve got a good brain and a car and a tape recorder. I know Amsterdam like I know my own brain, and I know Kitty even better. I’ve got, you know, goodness and the power of love on my side. That’s all it takes, right?

Let’s get ‘er done.

SFX: Recorders click off. 

SFX: The light chatterings of a crowd.

HAYLE

I’d like to thank everyone who came out to this preliminary search. As you know, Kitty Scott has been declared missing as of yesterday, presumably since very early that morning. Now, Kitty is no longer a minor, so no Amber alert has been issued, but her safe recovery is still an APD priority.

We will now be breaking into small groups of two or three to comb the area between the Scott residence on Birch Street and Foxhole Road. We’ve passed out maps with individual areas highlighted. Those will be your search areas. The whole thing should be about five square miles. If you find anything suspicious, please let the police department know as soon as possible, and an officer will be dispatched. Sound good?

SFX: Murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

LIAM

Hey, Ophelia! Uh, Fee!

OPHELIA

Liam? Hey.

LIAM

Do you have a search partner yet?

OPHELIA

Well, I was with my uncle, but I think he’s gone off somewhere. You can be with me, if you want.

LIAM

Great, thanks.

SFX: They start walking. 

SFX: The sound of the crowd disappears.

I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. About this whole thing. I know you’re best friends and all.

OPHELIA

Yeah, we’re pretty iconic. Dynamic duo, kind of thing. Sundae number two.

LIAM

It really sucks, then. That she would just leave like that.

OPHELIA

So that is what people are saying. That she’s a runaway.

LIAM

I mean, yeah. Just from what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like she had a lot of Amsterdam spirit.

OPHELIA

That much is true. She doesn’t.

LIAM

But you don’t think she ran?

OPHELIA

Even better. I know she didn’t.

LIAM

Then what happened to her? Maybe it’s just me, but if it were my best friend, I would rather she have run away than anything else. Better out there and free than here and hurt, you know?

But I’m sure she’s fine!

OPHELIA

I know that Kitty wouldn’t leave voluntarily because I’m still here. She wouldn’t run away. Not without me. Kitty is in Amsterdam, and I’m going to find her. Just watch.

SFX: Outro music.

NARRATOR

This episode of Have You Seen Me? was written by Emma Quinn and directed by Lauren Miles. It starred Emma Quinn as Ophelia Joy, Tobias Paul as Liam Summers, Gina Moravec as Sheriff Hayle, Jared Bruett as Isaac Joy, Lauren Miles as the Igloo Employee, and featured Kashia Ellis-Taylor as Kitty Scott. This episode was recorded at Redhawk Radio with sound production by Mikel Prater.

If you like what we do and want to support us financially, please consider becoming a donor on Patreon for as little as $1 a month. [EDITOR’S NOTE: We have now switched over to a per-episode payment schedule] Go to patreon.com/hysmpod to learn more. If you would like to support us emotionally, consider leaving us a rating and review on iTunes. Follow us @hysmpod on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr, or at Have You Seen Me? Podcast on Facebook. We would love to hear from you.

Thank you for listening, and keep your eyes open.

SFX: Outro music fades.

[bat-besties]

On Impossibility - 6

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Chapter 4   Chapter 5  Chapter 7  Chapter 8 Chapter 9

A popular!Logan and loser!Roman high school AU based on @2pointomg’s idea with eventual Prinxiety. 

impossible 

ɪmˈpɒsɪb(ə)l

adjective

·       not able to occur, exist, or be done.

Eg. It is impossible to fund both the sports and drama programmes with the school’s limited budget.

·       very difficult to deal with.

Eg. The situation which Logan Sanders, Student Body President, is in after he convinced the school board to cut the unsuccessful drama programmes is impossible.

·       (of a person) very unreasonable.

Eg. Roman Prince.

To Roman, nothing is impossible. Not following his older brother Patton to acting college, not being a loser taking on the school’s popular Student Body President and definitely not writing and performing an epic school play with no money and six cast and crew members.

Edited by @alpacasarethegreenestanimal, who has an amazing fanfiction on AO3! If you like superheroes, sarcasm and Virgil angst then you’ll love this

@toolazytothinkofcreativename

@entitydark

@romanasanders

@barclays-sides

@cashmeredragon

@jughead-is-canonically-aroace

@immacrazyfangirl

@narniasfinestavengingsociopath

@featuredfander

@what-a-catch-joe

@mightaswellenthuseaboutbooks

@candiukas​

@whatamessofwords 

@zoalis

So close. They were so close.

‘Then this I say, oh noble knight, if you let go of your anger then you could be great. Give up the light – it is so comfortable here in the dark. Vines to hold you close, the canopy to shade you, thorns to protect you. Does the light not burn you?’

Kyle had a blanket cape round his shoulders and was jutting his chin confrontationally towards Roman. His pose was perfect, he knew his lines inside out, and his emphasis was just as Roman had imagined it when writing the speech late at night in his bedroom.

Roman suddenly broke out of character, running his hand through his hair. ‘That was great – really, really. Could we run it again? There’s just – you’ve just got to really feel it.’ Roman hated to be that guy – Kyle had been great, and their priority was to get a feel for the new set and adjust their blocking for the stage. But he had to be perfect. Roman would make him perfect no matter what it took, for although he knew the role was one which stretched his friend he had faith in him to get it right. All through workshopping a boy called Raphael had dominated Ombretto, throwing him into dramatic confrontation with Rosso and drawing him back into introspective monologues. To be honest, it had hurt Roman greatly when Raphael left ‘due to creative differences’ and Kyle had to be pulled from the role of Giallo, but he much preferred his friend’s delivery because he had learnt from Patton the importance of an actor subordinating themselves to the character.  

It was six o’clock on a Saturday night and they had been there all day assembling the set, but Kyle ran the lines again - with more feeling. It wasn’t good enough for Roman, but then again hardly anything was. They moved on and he saw Talyn give Kyle encouraging finger guns from the wings. Kyle returned a small smile. Everyone was tired, but Roman had asked them to run through the whole thing again, so they had. While Patton’s entire year would go to the moon and back for him, Roman’s few friends would paint the Kuiper belt rainbow if he asked them to.

They should have gone home and caught up on homework after putting up the set, but the beauty of the set had transported Roman into ecstasies of inspiration, and he doubted Virgil would leave until the building was shut. The boy for once in his life was not scrolling through Tumblr, listening to music or fiddling with his sweater paws. He just sat starry-eyed in the front row of the seating, hunched forward in his over-sized hoody as he tried to hide a grin behind his hands.

The set Virgil had built was amazing. Fate had finally given the theatre troupe a helping hand as Dahlia’s neighbours had spare planks of wood from a loft extension they had not technically forbidden her from taking. Virgil had understood the aesthetic of Talyn’s designs and had decided to play around with the handmade nature of the set. Basically, it looked like the child of a Victorian toy theatre and the illustrations in a book of fairy tales raised by a goth/steampunk in the hedge of thorns from Sleeping Beauty. Or that’s how Virgil had pitched it. Originally there had been a scaffolding tower, but they had to improvise with the tall metal balcony from West Side Story Patton had once sung on so happily.

Virgil was weirdly proud of himself. He tried to be self-deprecating about his set, however he couldn’t help but be happy with it. Logan had always been complimentary about his work, but he did not have a great understanding of art, and Virgil had suspected the positive feedback was a key bullet point in the Word document ‘How to Get Self-doubting Friend to Apply for College.’ In contrast his new friends had very high standards, so a single nice word from Talyn would go around his head for days and days. Roman had been extremely exacting – a picture of the cliff from the Nightmare before Christmas had literally been ripped off Virgil’s mood board because the smoothness of it ‘didn’t fit the vibe, the emotion’ of the play – and now he was playing in the set like a kid in a candy store. Virgil understood it now, Logan and Roman’s drive for perfection. Oh sure, Logan was a textbook perfectionist and Roman was slapdash and confident in his own abilities, but in his own way the actor was just as meticulous about his work. The play – not yet named because there was not something which fit it well enough – was his baby. And while the set was a part of that brainchild it was Virgil’s own – baby was a weird comparison, it was just…he just had lots of feelings about it he hadn’t had for anything else before, OK? The exercise in 3D space was interesting.  

At 22:00, a janitor finally came around. He peeked his head into the auditorium, then walked into it fully. Kyle was perched on the balcony, which was festooned with sequinned purple fabric vines, and Roman was kneeling in centre stage entreating him to come down, framed by chaotic brambles the size of tree trunks and twisted metal spider webs throwing bizarre shadows onto the wall behind him, covered with sheer green fabric donated by Mrs Damon. He looked at Virgil, who was entranced by the scene.

‘Hey kid, you part of this?’ he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the actors. Virgil looked up at him and nodded with a grin.

‘Good on you, kid. I told you that you shouldn’t use your drawing skills for rude caricatures. And now look at you!’

Virgil was rapidly beginning to lose his sense of mystery and magic. ‘That…that was not me. I told you, and I told the principal that that drawing wasn’t by me.’

The janitor took off his hat and sat next to Virgil in a fatherly manner. ‘If you didn’t draw that cartoon, then why was it on your locker, heh?’

Trying to be absorbed into the tear in the seat covering, Virgil gave the man an exasperated look.

‘Well, I’m here to ask you guys to leave. You need to sleep!’ replied the janitor brightly, completely unfazed by Virgil’s silence. He leaned in even closer to him. ‘How long is there left?’

‘Fif-een min’tes.’ was mumbled from behind a wall of purple hair.

‘Fine. You guys promise to look up, then you can have the time.’

‘Thks.’

‘Careful of that balcony. Bit rickety.’ With that Malcom headed into the hallway again, marvelling at the impact that simple sentence of his had made on that punk kid. Permanent sharpie and Tipp-ex on that locker as well. Sometimes kids just need a bit of self-belief.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Roman bounded off the stage and thundered up to Virgil. Ignoring the fact that Virgil was putting into practice everything he’d learnt trying to disengage Malcom, he grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. ‘A cheer for Virgil!’ he yelled to the others.

There were scattered cheers from the cast and crew as they cleared up. ‘Visionary, visionary!’ shouted Roman, throwing his hands in the air.

Virgil blushed. ‘What does that even mean?’

Roman threw himself down on the gangway, pulling the emo down beside him. ‘One who has unique visions!’

Virgil looked at him sceptically. ‘I’m sure that’s not the exact definition.’

‘We can’t all be the calculator watch, can we?’ The annoyance entering Roman’s voice was jarring.

There was a beat of awkward silence as Virgil refused to forgive Roman or defend Logan.

Brightly, Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand and admired his nail polish. He looked up at Virgil and whispered, ‘Visionary, visionary.’ Over his knuckles.

Virgil recoiled and stood up. ‘What the ever-loving fuck was that?!’

Roman face-palmed. ‘It was meant to be…friendly.’

‘It was really weird! And not friendly! That was not in the realm of friendly!’

Roman rocketed to his feet, ‘Sorry to break it to you Virgil, but just because I’m gay, it doesn’t mean that I’m flirting with every straight guy I talk to!’

‘How is that-? It wasn’t- I didn’t even know that! Anyway, I’m not straight either.’

‘Well, fine. I’m not.’ Roman put his hands on his hips.

‘Fine!’

‘Fine!’

The two stood angrily staring at each other before dissolving into laughter.

‘How could you think I was straight?’ howled Roman, ‘And you’re not either? Yes!’ he punched the air.

Virgil was bent over, clutching his stomach. ‘I…I didn’t want to assume…’

Dahlia came up the gangway halfway, since the rest of it was blocked by two dorks rolling around on the floor. ‘We’re going to head, if you guys could lock up.’ Breathlessly, Roman waved her on.

Once the two came to they sat up, lounging against the seating.

Roman studiously didn’t look at Virgil as he spoke to him. ‘Your set – I love it.’

‘I know.’ The emo smirked at him, ‘you spent all evening playing in it.’

Roman’s hand shot to his chest as he gasped, ‘PLAYING! How dare you? I was acting!’ he made a point to gesture dramatically to signal his thespian talent. He put his hand down and turned to Virgil. ‘I do, though,’ he said earnestly, ‘it’s beautiful, and dark, and creepy, and fantastical, and better than I could ever have hoped for. We can do this – we can put on this play.’

Virgil’s insides twisted as he looked at the boy across from him, his face desaturated and pupils dilated by the dark. He wasn’t so sure of success. The costumes needed to be big and bold, and that meant lots of fabric and shiny things in elaborate designs. They had asked to use the black fabric which backed the curtain but had unsurprisingly been turned down, and money from rainbow T-shirt sales had covered enough for a dirndl for Margherita bought online and a shimmery brown and green leotard for the malevolent fairy (nicknamed Bob) after the set had been built, but for now the magnificent hoop skirts of the Evil Queen and flowing robe of Ombretto were impossible to realise.

‘Virgil?’

The emo snapped his eyes from Roman’s face. ‘Yeah. Let’s not count on…let’s not give on up this.’ He made eye contact again. ‘I believe in you. Or whatever. Dork.’

Roman smiled to himself a little. ‘And here I was thinking you were some massive edgelord.’

Virgil raised his eyebrows. ‘You saw my Nightmare before Christmas poster.’

‘True.’ Roman grinned, ‘But you were too cool for my Randy Newman impression.’

Virgil giggled. ‘You had a cowboy hat. And a pink plastic radio. And you were fifteen.’

‘I took it seriously! I wanted to be your friend.’ Roman emphasised each word.

‘Well, I wanted you to stop singing before I cringed myself a six-pack.’

They sat in silence for a while, neither wanting to suggest leaving.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with my future.’ Virgil’s head was flung back to look at the set, and his voice was soft.

Roman rolled onto his stomach, supporting his head on his hands. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘This.’

Roman put his hand on Virgil’s and smiled at him reassuringly, ‘Then do it. This is good.’

‘I…’ Virgil took a shaky breath. ‘I can’t. I’m not good enough.’

‘Virgil. I have been to four Broadway shows and twenty-three shows in other towns. I watch bootlegs like other kids watch let’s plays. I read about this stuff. I think you could easily design for a smaller show, and once you go to college…Broadway, baby.’

Virgil felt something suspiciously like hope rise to fill his chest. ‘Why would they take someone like me? From a school like this, which isn’t particularly keen on the arts, if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Virgil – you have Mrs Damon who would write a book about you, let alone a recommendation letter. You’ve got this production, which will make one hell of an essay. The school is academic, and your grades are good. Besides, Patton did it – my older brother.’

‘I guess. But wasn’t he like some genius or something?’

It was Roman’s turn to break eye contact. ‘Yeah, he is. But we don’t need to be scholarship holders like him or anything. Just good enough.’

Virgil sat up, ‘You’re worried about acting school, princey? Big brother in New York and half-a-billion extracurriculars. Please.’

‘No extracurriculars now. But yes, of course I’m worried. I want to go to the same place as Patton, when we went to check it out with him it was…magical. These past few years it’s like he’s living every single dream I have. And I’m happy for him! I am! I’m super proud, but I don’t want to apply and be rejected, and he’ll be super nice about it…you know.’

‘Do your parents compare you a lot?’

‘No, god no.’ Roman shook his head emphatically. ‘They’re incredibly proud of both of us. It’s me. I do. And I know I shouldn’t…’

He broke off and tried to hide the fact that he was crying. The emo scooted closer and awkwardly pulled him into a loose hug, at which point Roman attached himself to Virgil’s hoodie like a baby koala.

‘Aw, jeez. Come on, dude. Don’t make me give a heartfelt speech. Just like, know, that I think you’re - good.’

‘Huh! Yeah, I am pretty good! Thanks for reminding me, J-Delightful.’ Roman pulled himself up and punched Virgil in the shoulder.

‘Alright, dudebro.’

The boy slumped again. ‘Arggggg. Now you think everything is fine!’

‘You do not look like everything is fine.’

‘Well, yeah, no.’

Virgil just wanted to paint and listen to emo music and be left alone. Why the hell was he landed with looking after overachievers?

‘Wanna come to my house tonight? We could watch Disney, or whatever. My parents would be happy I have someone to invite over.’

‘I would love that! I’ll text the old parents…Odin’s eyepatch! It’s eleven already! We’d better hurry!’

That night as Roman was spread-eagled on his bedroom floor, Virgil tried not to think of the lack of money for costumes, but they joined the usual procession of Logan’s eye bags, situations in which his set would collapse and his plan for the future which marched round his head whenever he tried to sleep.

Increasingly old-school Disney songs sung in bass, a voice passionately and loudly delivering lines or unaffectedly and quietly trying to explain ideas had echoed around his darkened bedroom too, but he preferred to not think about that.

[lovelyyyoongi]

Hoodie

Pairing: Reader / Namjoon

Genre: exbf!Namjoon; College!au; Fluff

Length: 2.4k words

Warning: Language

Summary: Exes aren’t supposed to keep each other’s belongings after they break up, right? But there’s always that connection to each other, whether it’d b physical or emotional that you can’t seem to get rid of. What is it for you? A sweatshirt. A stupid hoodie.

Inspired by: Hoodie by Hey Violet (wow i love this song so much pls listen to it!)

( not my gif )

You knew it was wrong. Even if the thought was in the back of your mind, you still knew. Yet you still managed to draw yourself back to that same stupid sweatshirt and you didn’t know why. 

Maybe it was the sense of welcomeness; the fact that it was always there, waiting to be worn. Or maybe it was a sense of home. You never admitted it out loud but that sweatshirt did bring up your mood because of how homey it felt.

At first it was a lazy thing to put on when you couldn’t find something better to wear. It was times like when you woke up late for class or had to make a quick trip to the grocery store when your wore it.

You were doing your homework while hunched over your desk, probably looking like a zombie. I need a coffee, you concluded. If there was anything to motivate you to finish your homework, it was coffee.

It was a chilly day, you observed from the sounds of the wind rustling against the leaves of the trees. You liked the chilly weather; it was an excuse to throw on a sweatshirt and go out looking a bit like a bum without being judged too hard for it. Pushing your self away form your desk, your eyes scanned the room in search for something to cover you up. Your eyes spotted the sweatshirt hanging on the back of your dorm room’s door.

You pulled the large sweatshirt over your smaller body and your heart skipped a beat at the familiar scent which engulfed your nostrils, yet just like that, the feeling was gone; You returned back to your nonchalant state slipped on some shoes.

You shoved your hands into the sweatshirt pockets as you felt the cold wind gust past your warm fingertips. The walk to the coffee shop was a short one, yet your brain always seemed to make it much longer than it actually was. Thoughts swirled through your head and you overthought absolutely everything…or so you thought.

I have three tests this week and I haven’t started studying for any of them.

I have two essays due by Wednesday morning and you barely started the second one and revised the first one.

I should probably hit the gym; I’m looking kind of chubby these days.

You scoffed to yourself. Yeah right.

Oh, and I’m wearing my ex boyfriend’s sweatshirt.

Before you could even process what you had just thought, you were approaching the surprisingly almost empty shop. You ordered your coffee and observed your surroundings. Man, it smelled good in here. Why didn’t you come more often?

“Hey, I’m here for my shift. Thanks for covering for me, man.”

Oh, you thought at the familiar voice, that’s why. You quickly walked out of the shop, not caught by your barista ex boyfriend. You nearly smiled at the memory of calling him your barista boyfriend.

The trip back wasn’t filled with your thoughts for your were too occupied by drinking the deliciously warm coffee. You returned back to your dorm room, your coffee nearly finished. You didn’t take off the sweatshirt, already accustomed to softness and sweet scent your heart was praying for you to acknowledge.

Subconsciously, your hand found its way to one of the strings along the hood of the sweatshirt and tugged at it as you continued to do your homework. Your fingers brought the the string to your lips and you chewed the end of the string without even realizing. 

Then that was it. After you finished your homework, you slipped off the hoodie and hung it back onto the door where it’d remain for a few days. 

As time passed, you found yourself wearing the stupid sweatshirt more and more. Yet, nothing occurred to you that it was a bad thing. You lounged around your room in it more often since it was the first thing you spotted to wear. It was becoming so much of a problem, your friends even noticed.

“Uh, Y/N?” You friend from history asked, concern etched into her voice. She looked genuinely concerned for your very being as she watched you eat nonchalantly while wearing that. You were out to lunch on an ordinary Thursday. Nothing bad seemed to happen today and you were relieved. You mentally patted yourself on the back for somehow fucking up your day.

“Hm?” You softly, smiled. You stared at her concern faced with curious eyes.

“Is that…” She trailed off, pointing to the sweatshirt your were wearing. You looked down at the grey hoodie and then back up at her whose finger was still int he air. When you didn’t answer her half-question, she leaned in and whispered, “Namjoon’s sweatshirt?” 

Furrowing your brows, you nodded at her odd antics. Her mouth was parted open and her eyes were widened to size of saucers. You understood your friend was a drama major but damn, was she bing over dramatic.

“Y–You–you c–can’t–” She stuttered, blinking rapidly, flabbergasted at how you were so calm and okay with wearing his sweatshirt.

“What?”

“Wear your ex’s sweatshirt!” She said, exasperatingly as if it were a common fact everyone knew.

“Why not?” You knew the answer to the question but your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Exes don’t wear or keep each other’s belongings! They usually cut all ties with them and why haven’t you?” 

“I have!” You countered, referring to losing Namjoon’s number and losing contact with him and his friends.

“No you haven’t. As long as you have that sweatshirt, you’re still chained to him.” You scoffed at her answer. You let the guy go. What was a sweatshirt gonna do? It was just a sweatshirt!! It wasn’t like having it meant you were still madly in lovely with the man. Did it?

But you friend’s words only made you think. You were wearing the sweatshirt too often than not. You stared at it more often, and even if you were turned away from it, you still felt its presence behind you.

That’s it, you thought.

You grabbed the sweatshirt off of the door and laid it against the edge of your bed.

If your friends claimed you didn’t let the man go because of a stupid sweatshirt, you were going to have to prove it to them. You had to get rid of the damn thing. But get rid of it how?

Trash it?

Burn it?

Or return it?

Burning it felt like too much of an extreme and it seemed like it’d be something you’d do if you held a certain grudge over him, which you didn’t. 

You couldn’t simply return the sweatshirt. ‘Hey, here’s that sweatshirt I’ve had for months after we broke up. I’ve been wearing it but I didn’t care.’ That sounded promising.

You decided to go with the first choice. Grabbing the sweatshirt by the sleeves, you held it up and took a final look at it. A guilty feeling arose from the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of dumping the thing.

Maybe, one last time. 

You pulled the hoodie over you and this time, really felt what it was like wearing it. You smiled at the familiar scent blended into the fabric. You were hit by the millions of memories of wearing it, starting with how you even go it in the first place.

“You know,” you began, as you played with the strings of the very same hoodie. 

“Hm?” Namjoon hummed from next to you. You loved these kinds of days. They were the days when neither of you had classes and he didn’t have work and you’d lounge around in each other’s rooms, not a single bad thought in any of your heads. 

“I’m keeping this.”

“Babe, you can’t just claim my hoodie as yours.”

“Uh, yes I can. And that’s what I’m doing,” You turned to face him and snuggled further into his hoodie.

“I’d say no but you look too cute,” He smiled, softly, his dimples showing. Poking at one of them, you smiled. 

“I’m always going to have this.”

“You better. It looked better on you anyway,” He closed his eyes and lightly pecked your forehead. 

You were always going to have this. You looked back down at the sweater and noticed a few tear stains along the front of. Quickly rubbing your eyes, you sighed. 

You couldn’t get rid of it. No matter how hard you tried, this stupid sweatshirt was going to stay tied to you wherever you went.

Was it wrong? Probably.

Did you care? Not really.

You found yourself wearing the hoodie whenever you could. You even wore it to sleep, just like you used to. 

It was hard at first, knowing the owner of that sweatshirt wasn’t yours anymore and he probably didn’t even know you owned the damn thing.

But you grew accustomed to it, enjoying the feeling of the fabric against your skin and the smell. Oh, the smell. No matter how many timed you wore it, the smell of Namjoon remained there. 

You went to class with it on and went anywhere with it on.

You sat at the coffee shop, too lazy to walk all the way back to your dorm. You relished in the sweet smell of the coffee in the shop and smiled. You really should come by more often. But what you didn’t know was the barista currently on shift, watching you in his sweatshirt.

So she did keep it, Namjoon thought, a playful smile threatening to grace his lips. He watched you from the counter, as you sipped your coffee, not bothered by the world around you. Always in that head of hers, he thought.

He didn’t approach you, he secretly wanted to. But before he could even man up to, you decided to leave the shop.

You returned back to your dorm and sprawled yourself onto your bed. You spent the day mostly on your phone. You held the phone up hovering over your face, scrolling though whatever social life you might have. 

After a few hours, there was a knock at your dorm. I sweat to god if it’s that girl who asks for the homework, you frowned approaching the door.

You swung open the door, ready to threaten whoever was at it, before freezing. 

“Uhhh,” Namjoon widened his eyes, surprised that you even answered.

“Joon–er, Namjoon! What a…surprise,” you forced a smile, your own eyes widened, confused as to what the hell he was doing. 

“I um, saw you earlier…at the coffee shop…and I noticed, the…hoodie,” His eyes gazed down to the stupid sweatshirt you were wearing. 

“Oh!” Your face grew red. This is what you were trying to avoid. Being caught by him that you still owned the thing. “Do you want it back? I’m really sorry–” He cut you off as you began to take of the sweatshirt. 

“No, no! You promised you’d always have it. I’m just surprised you kept it…the promise, I mean,” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly.

“You know I never break a promise,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. It was surprising how comfortable you were in front of your ex. You didn’t feel like crying or slapping him. The breakup was mutual after all.

“I know, believe me. Still have that unflattering picture of me on your Instagram that you promised to never delete?”

You nodded, “Oh definitely. Definitely your best look,” You laughed. 

He chuckled with you and when the laughter died down, there was an awkward silence. 

“If you weren’t here for the sweatshirt, what were you here for?” You asked, tilting your head to the side in question. 

“You. I just needed to see you,” He murmured, looking down. 

“Me? Why me?”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t have to ask that question. Hell, it’s my fault you have to even ask.”

“What are you going on about?” You asked, gesturing him to come inside.

“I let you go way too easily.” He stated, boldly. 

“Joon,” you trailed off, looking away. 

“No, Y/N, I should’ve fought. For you. For us. But I didn’t because I was an idiot,” Namjoon shook his head to himself.

“It was a two way thing. I had to fight, too,” You reassured. 

“Then let’s fight.”

“What?” You were bewildered by his sudden boldness. Fight?

“Y/N, our families may hate each other but I sure as hell don’t hate you. In fact, I love you. I still do after all this time and please, just please, can we try again?”

He grabbed your hands and stared into your eyes, begging you to say yes. “Why now? Out of all the times to come and see me, why now?”

“I saw you today, wearing that sweatshirt and Y/N, my heart swelled for the first time in months. I don’t think you understand how much I wished you kept that sweatshirt and seeing you wear it gave me that shimmer of hope that you still had feelings for me. So Y/N, do you still have feelings for me? If you don’t, I’ll leave right now and won’t bother you again.”

You stared back into Namjoon’s eyes and thought hard about the question. But then, you realized, you couldn’t overthink the question. There was only one word in your brain that couldn’t be changed. 

“Why the hell do you think I still wear the sweatshirt? Of course I do, you idiot,” You gave him lopsided smile, to which he returned with a grin.

“So we can try again?”

“Well, I sure hope so. I hope I didn’t confess only for you to say bye again,” You teased. 

“I missed your teasing,” He embraced you and you sighed against his chest. He smelled the same. Even if you weren’t with his physically for the past few months, his sweatshirt was and you realized that was what was filling the mpty void in your heart.

And it was because of that stupid sweatshirt that you were happy again.

YALLLL I WROTE THIS AND THEN TUMBLR DELETED IT SO I WAS ENRAGED BUT I DID IT!!! PEN PAL IS KIND OF DELAYED UNTIL LATER TONIGHT BUT HAVE THIS FIC THAT I LOVE SM:))))))

[trulycertain]

Tru’s Writing Notes

I’ve had people ask me after seeing my feedback on stories if I’m as overanalytical with my own stuff. The answer is yes. My stuff may often be written at 4 AM and typo-laden, but yes. 

Because of that and @thesecondsealwrites talking about process (though unlike her post, this is more the why/how than the everyday practicalities of writing), here are some of the notes I’ve left myself in my journal. These apply mostly to the way I write my original rather than my fic, but they can apply to both. Can I add: a lot of these probably seem very obvious, I know, and I don’t always manage to bear them in mind. Also, I’m not a pro or even a talented amateur, and these aren’t addressing an audience, they’re addressing me - and they apply more to the way I write than writing in general. But if anyone might find this interesting or wants to know if I worry about my writing, here’s your answer.

People tend to like a strong story, with good reason. The best plots tend to be simple, and then you build outwards and maybe twist. A compelling central arc, certain genre tropes or something familiar tend to be what work: forbidden romance, or an unsolved murder and a maverick. We have a fair idea of what’s going to happen, but it’s the anticipation - and/or the eventual subversion - that brings the fun. Plot and drive.

Again, try to have a strong idea of where it’s going, or the spirit of it. Terry Pratchett once said that you want to be able to write your own blurb: it’s a good sign if you can distil the essence of your story into a hundred words or so.

Just like real people, characters have verbal tics, peculiar turns of phrase and certain mannerisms. Learn them, and use but don’t overuse. Keep it natural.

Some people just don’t like present tense, or past, or first person, for whatever reason. You may be buggered from the start, and sometimes all you can do is try. Try and know your audience, try your best. Try not to bang your head against a wall.

However, present tense is a slippery bastard. At its best, there’s almost nothing that can match it for immediacy and visceral intensity. At its worst, it can either be staccato, bleak and overly clinical - or at the other end of the scale, it can be overwrought sensory overload. Either way, a reader will be put off. Ideally, I try to balance the two and end up somewhere in the middle: punch and verve, but with restraint and room for the reader to infer. I rarely manage this, but God do I try.

Speaking of inference: don’t assume the reader is an idiot. Sometimes the best punchline or explanation is the one that’s never given. Myself, my favourite horror stories are the ones that don’t go for shlock and shocks: they’re the ones where I finish them feeling mildly unsettled, go and do the washing-up while my mind puts the pieces together, and then go, five or ten minutes later, “Oh God, it was behind the door the whole time! That’s... Argh.”

People are terrifyingly complicated. Every reader brings something to the text, whether they’re aware of it or not. This can add unexpected beauty or poignancy, but it can also make implication, idioms, dialect and offence into total minefields. People can come out with things that would never have occurred to you. Something might fly over someone’s head, or something might turn out to be an incredibly offensive phrase in their country and perfectly innocuous in yours; someone might find your happy ending the most depressing thing in the known universe, and someone else might hate your likeable romantic hero because he reminds them of their arsehole ex. Sometimes you can anticipate this and take countermeasures for clarity’s sake; often you don’t need to because theirs is a perfectly valid interpretation and part of the joy of making a cake is seeing people eat it; and mostly you just can’t know, because people come in so many different permutations and you’re not actually psychic, so leave them to it. Gah.

Watch your tenses. Things like flashbacks are nightmare territory and ripe for grammar slippage. Never be afraid or too proud to read up on usage.

Same with semicolons. Tricky little gits.

People mangle language. Doesn’t matter whether you’ve had the “perfect” education, everyone does it at least sometimes. People lose words, misuse vocabulary (me, all the time), go for double negatives, mix metaphors. You always want your dialogue to be readable, and you don’t want your portrayals to be hackneyed or offensive, but it’s generally unnecessary to aim for perfection in dialogue unless it’s for effect: say, if you want to make a character less approachable, if you want to show they’re not human, or if rose-tinted dialogue is a stylistic choice. Generally, true-to-life dialogue is inherently descriptive rather than prescriptive.

Sometimes said mangling leads to fascinating new quirks, dialect and expressions.

Speech is very different from thought. A character’s narrative voice is often quite different to their dialogue voice. Thought is much faster than speech, and sometimes someone will answer their own question before they’ve finished saying it. Thought is by nature more disjointed, and thought is also a monologue, unless everyone’s suddenly turned telepathic or you’re dealing with dissociation/multiple personalities. In contrast, speech has a listener, which changes it. Nerves can make phrases choppy or make them fail completely. Often people interrupt each other. Realistic dialogue should reflect this.

On a similar note, let your characters talk. Know where to draw the line - no-one wants the tension ruined by a half-hour conversation about socks - but very few people are all business or all dramatic emotion all the time. (Those who seemingly are will have reasons for it, and those are often worth exploring, too.) Unless you’re on a particular word and/or time limit, let your characters occasionally be real people whose eyeliner runs, or who dislike artichokes, or who make bad jokes - and people who don’t revolve completely around your protagonist, with their own internal lives. When done right, relateable is not boring - especially if you’re working in a fantastic or dramatic canon. The odd anchor to reality can grab your heart and tug.

But do know where to draw the line. Let them be enigmatic and heroic when they need to, because often the magic is in that contrast between the epic and the mundane. Characters can do and be what we can’t. Don’t take away all their mystery and more idealised qualities.

There’s no one way to do funny, and there’s no way to write an instruction manual for it. Again, like most other things, it’s a matter of interpretation: everyone’s tickled by different things. But often humour relies on the subversion of expectation - bathos and anticlimax, for example, or giving an established word/phrase an entirely new meaning - or it relies on particular character idiosyncrasies, or on the other side, the utter, crushing fulfilment of expectations. (”Save the world, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”) A good source of jokes is often that “I bloody knew it!” feeling.

Characters have biases, too. Always try and account for this in the narrative.

Foreshadowing is your friend, and often a key to emotional closure for the reader. Unless you can do some serious, stylish authorial sleight-of-hand, deus ex machina endings will prompt pissed-offness rather than satisfied applause. Even if you don’t introduce your secret weapon/s early on - best right near the beginning, if possible - at least get the key themes and characters down. You want to get an, “Oh, of course,” not “Well, that was a total arse-pull.”

Screenwriters sometimes talk of an A-plot and a B-plot. The A-plot’s the main one, and B is a seemingly separate subplot that inevitably turns out to be all tangled up with A. It’s pretty standard for detective dramas: there’s a murder, they start investigating, and the seemingly unrelated corpse on the other side of town always ends up being central to the case. A and B always converge. Often, if it’s a story with depth and a well-reasoned plot, the B plot will grow naturally. Of course, that’s only one way of doing it: some stories have a strong, driving A plot that drives everything and stands on its own, and have some C, D, E, F, so on plots. I admit, I’m not much good at the A + B plot thing, so I don’t tend to do it. If I have subplots, they tend to be less connected and a bit more character-driven, rather than about world-saving/murder-solving like the A plot. (I tend to half-jokingly call these C plots, where the C stands for “character” or “crying.”) Good characters usually write their own C plots - they have ulterior motives, hidden aspects, unexpected connections, and if you let them wander off they’ll make trouble for themselves. C plots are connected to the main plot, but unlike B plots, not a fundamental part of it. Sorry, screenwriters, for the terminology mangling.

Another trick to nick from Hollywood: the meet-cute. Sometimes you want someone to enter the narrative sneakily and unobtrusively, but often, especially with protagonists and love interests, never underestimate the power of a good, memorable character introduction. Audiences remember the ways they meet your characters, and the ways that characters meet eaxch other.

It’s not necessary for every story, but often it’s good to have a rock-bottom moment where everything looks hopeless. It reminds your audience viscerally of the stakes and penalties for failure, and it makes eventual victory even sweeter because it’s against the odds. Unless the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. In that case, rock on with your downer-ending self.

Often the best plot comes from character. (After all, Greek dramatists went on about this all the time with concepts like hubris and hamartia.) Even when nations clash, nations are run by flawed, corrupt people. Antagonists ought to have strong motivations unless you’re writing senseless violence/cruelty intentionally. So on. People often talk about the heart of drama being conflict, and some people, taking that to heart, write a war or their couple arguing. Yeah, that can work brilliantly, but there are other ways to do it, and conflict can be smaller-scale, too. It can be as simple as different aspects of the same character clashing; for instance, if they’re torn between love and duty (there’s a reason that one’s so popular), or the conflict between their past and present selves.

[zenithjournal-blog]

7.17.17 / 8

So… it’s been a while. It’s 1:24 am right now. Yeah, yikes. I just spent literally 45 minutes or more searching for the goddamn email to this account because I couldn’t remember it aghhhhh that was annoying. But don’t worry, I’m learning from my mistakes and I’m writing all my emails and accounts down now lol.

I should’ve kept this going. I wish I would’ve documented my senior year which was basically the fucking point of this blog to help me gather my thoughts and memories through such a crazy time. And it was crazy. Good, bad, ugly, and very ugly. I have some good memories and I’ve done things this year that I’m not proud of and I never thought I’d do. I wish I could erase some things but that’s the tricky thing about time. It’s linear right now in this tiny, human, 2017 perspective and I can’t change it. All I can do is learn, grow as a person, and move on I suppose.

I’m gonna do a review of everything I can remember of the highlights. Starting off with my teachers: I ended up really disliking Mr. and Mrs. D by the end of the year. Mrs. D gave me hell this year, partly my fault but unnecessary grief on her part. At least I got Hamlet and Siddhartha from Mr. D and I wrote a 10 pg paper about parallel universes that I’m very proud of. Nonetheless both their classes were struggles. I liked Latin a lot in the beginning and Mr. Du of course but honestly I kind of dreaded the class being the only senior. It was kind of pointless at the end besides the credit. I did get some useful knowledge out of it honestly, so it wasn’t a waste I guess. Bio was great I looked forward to the class pretty much every day. Mrs. A was such a sweetheart, so caring and funny and smart I loved having her and being able to have a chill class during the day. She made me feel comfortable enough to talk during class and ask questions, something I never really did during high school. I’ll definitely miss her. I weaseled my way into Mr. F’s class somehow and I had Liz so I didn’t wanna die as much as I expected to lol. Art class was kind of up and down. Ms. C filled in for Mrs. S for a few months and I grew to really like her and was sad to see her go. I wasn’t really looking forward to Mrs. S coming back to be honest because of how strict she can be with some things but she is really a nice teacher and she likes me a lot. She encouraged me and complimented my art work a ton throughout the year and I’m really grateful for that. I entered my self portrait into scholastics and I won the gold key award!!!! I’m proud of myself and Mom and Dad and Grandma and Papa and Mrs. C of course were thrilled and were all there to support me that day. Mrs. W was suuuuch a sweetheart, I really loved her this year. I’ve never been able to say I liked math class, liked my math teacher, and most unexpectedly- understood the math I was being taught. She really did make such a difference for me this year I’m so so so grateful I got her this year she was so understanding of my vertigo and helped me make up all my assignments and stand up to guidance when they gave me trouble. I’ll miss her a lot and won’t forget her impact.

So in the beginning of the year I was dealing with all the stupid drama with “O”. I’m mad at myself for acting the way I do when I’m in situations where I don’t want to talk to people anymore, I don’t know why I can’t just be up front. I really hope I can work like that because it really ate at me the way I treated her. She was making me uncomfortable and it was a sketchy situation but no one deserves to be treated like that and I need to fix that about myself. But that ended around the end of November when I finally started to post on social media again. I hung out with Timmy, Kate, and Laura practically all the time in the beginning of the year. We had Laura’s birthday party in November which was fun. However, September through about December was kind of a blur. I lost my drive to seek out spirituality and was disconnected from positivity. I was focused on bad decisions involving substances that I never thought I would go near. It was honestly a pretty dark time. I was depressed and looking back I’m just disappointed in myself. I lost sight of things that were important and healthy. It did continue on for a few months but I’ll get to that.

Halloween was probably the first instance since the summer when I realized the friendship between me and Laura faltering. In the summer she was going through one of the worst times in her life and I completely understand that. But she pushed me away and didn’t listen to me and she pulled some shitty stuff over me that I never thought someone would do to me, especially her. I was hurt. Then when the really bad stuff happened to her I sucked it up and I was there for her because being there when she needed support was more important than whatever I was feeling. So we were on good terms again but it was different. On Halloween when she was just being weird about our costumes was when I felt that tear again. It sounds dramatic but I don’t know how to describe it, that’s just what I felt. Then things kind of went smoothly between us for a while.

Christmas came around and I had a really nice holiday. I don’t think there was any fights and I just had a fun time. I took Timmy to the Christmas party and it may have been later that night or the next day I went to my first house party. It didn’t last that long but yeah. Then on New Years Eve I went to my first REAL party at the same place, it was crazy. I really did have a lot of fun and I danced the whole night. But enough of that, onto other stuff. In January I turned 18. I didn’t have a huge party or anything but I hung out with my family and I went to a couple places with Timmy that night. Trump got placed into presidency officially so that was pretty depressing obviously. I had the scholastics awards later that month and unfortunately more bad stuff happened with Timmy. It was a rough time, I just want the best for him.

I drew a lot in February and took a lot of cute pictures. I was getting back into a positive mindset and I was happier this month. I started watching Koi again. Spirit week for my senior year actually went well. I participated and took pictures every day, can you imagine? Tell that to freshman year Carina and she’ll laugh in your face. I was in the art banner group so I contributed something and it felt nice to say that for once. I went out of my comfort zone, even if it was just a little and dressed up each day. I cheered on gym day with Timmy and we won! I felt included for once.

March was another pretty good month, I was still pretty positive and getting back into a spiritual mindset. I forgot to mention earlier about going to clay- the best thing ever! Me and Liz really reconnected this year and we went to clay pretty regularly since about October til it ended and I really really enjoyed it. I picked up throwing and I was pretty decent at it. I went a lot during March and made a lot of pottery. It was my happy place and I’m really glad I had a positive space for myself to express myself and hang out. The whole St. Patty’s day parade fiasco happened. This is when I started feeling disconnected from Laura again.

In April it pretty much continued from March, clay, koi, and pretty good vibes. It was a really art based month and so was May. I drew another yoongi portrait which turned out to be my bed art piece yet. I’m still extremely proud of it. I love drawing him so much. When I realized I wasn’t going to get into temple I shifted my focus into CHC. I visited it and pretty much forced myself into thinking it was right for me. I was wrong, but we’ll get to that.

A few days after that I went on the art club trip to the Barnes foundation which was so freaking fun!!!! The art was so pretty and I had such a nice time I loved it so much. May was like the month of flowers for me lol. I ran the art show again and had a great time setting up and showing off my art. I was positive and surrounded my self with spirituality. I started watching Dakota and Claire who I really connect with. I’m glad I found these beautiful souls.

To side track: Laura started basically just ignoring me for weeks at a time around these months for a reason I still don’t know. I don’t know if I did something or if she was going through something… I was upset about it regardless. I felt like I was losing my best friend and I didn’t know why. I still don’t. After everything we’ve been through I don’t want to lose her. I love her as a friend and I just don’t know what changed in a year. I’ll get back to this.

June snuck up on me FAST. This was it. 16 days and I was done with high school. Shitty freshman year, rollercoaster sophomore year, blurry junior year, and my indescribable senior year. It was all coming to a close. The trip to Hershey was a blast, I had a lot of fun and I was dead by the end of the day. I hung out with Timmy for the day because Laura and Kate didn’t show up. This was when things were still super weird between me and Laura. We were talking but it was just weird.

My last week of high school finals came. I studied kind of lol but kind of not but passed everything nonetheless. I said goodbye to the teachers that I’d miss and that was it. I’m getting a little emotional writing this now. All the graduation and class day practices came which was a blur. Some of my last moments with my class. Baccalaureate happened and Laura actually came to dinner with my family and I after. It seemed actually normal for a second. Then came class day. I walked with Timmy and I felt pretty in my dress. I got loads of pictures with my friends and I got to talk to Rachel quite a bit. I really do love her, she was my first friend and is still one of the kindest people I know. Jenn sent me a graduation gift around this time filled with Mexican candy, a lovely letter, and a beautiful necklace. I don’t know what I did to deserve her honestly she is so kind and positive and I’m so grateful to have met her.

Graduation day. I made my cap an hour before heading to the school, I might as well be rushing for the last school event. We loaded the buses and headed to the high school. While waiting in the line I got to see Mr. H. I got to hug him and tell him how much I missed him and he said the same and told me to keep in touch. I should’ve emailed him but I feel weird to do it now considering what I’ll get to in a bit. We walked past everyone and walked into the gym. I found my family while walking to my seat and tried not to get emotional. The ceremony was honestly a blur. I got my diploma and soon the hats were thrown. I turned right for my family and they were so proud. I gave lots of hugs took lots of pics and soon the night was over. That’s it. High school is done. It didn’t really hit me until a week or two later. This chapter is closed.

Then summer started a few weeks ago. Things were the weirdest they’ve been between me Timmy, Kate, and Laura. It was like we split in half, we just weren’t talking and they’d ignore us. Me and timmy didn’t and still don’t know why. Eventually we hung out but it was still just super fucking weird. We hung out 3 times this summer, it’s just not what I pictured it to be.

Speaking of that. College. So no surprise my anxiety got the best of me. Sort of. I’ve just been so overwhelmed with the thought of leaving from the money situation, me having no life skills, being away from my family, having a stranger for a roommate, having a public bathroom, not being able to make my schedule- I just blew up a week ago today. I cried by myself, hyperventilating and just full on panic attack on the guest bed. I couldn’t do it. The next day I broke down in front of my mom. She got of the phone about financial aid and I just crumbled I was a sobbing mess on the kitchen table and just let it all out for once and I told her what I was feeling. This morning it was brought up again. Tomorrow I was supposed to go for my orientation day but I just broke down again when my mom brought it up and then she broke down. I felt guilty honestly. I don’t want to disappoint my parents but I want to lead my life the way I want it to go. My dad came in and I just broke down a slobbering mess again and told them everything. He took it well and agreed that I shouldn’t rush into everything. I don’t know why I let things bottle up. I don’t know why I expect him to take everything badly when he’s so understanding and so is my mom. I love them so much I’m crying. They always support me and I’m so grateful for them I love them so much I love them so much I love them so much I love them so much I love them so much. I don’t know what I’d do without my parents they’re my rock. I’m crying in the bathroom right now it’s 2:56am and I’m trying so hard to see to type.

Okay I’m trying to calm down. This is so raw. I’ve been so overwhelmed with emotions and this is the first time I’m really just letting myself express them and just cry?? Like not over a stupid tv show but actually cry about things happening in my life and letting my parents see and help me through my problems. I think this is good. I’m confused about my life right now and what decisions to make but I think my soul is trying to guide me in the right direction and I’m trying to be more free and trust in my gut and stand up for what I want to do. Honestly, at this point I don’t want to go to college at all. I’m in a mindset that I’ve never been in before where I just want to live a free-spirited, happy, lowkey, spiritual life. I don’t want money, or status, or a huge job or house or any of the material stuff that used to cloud my brain. I just want peace in my lifetime. I want to fill my soul with spiritual happiness. However I can’t just abandon my parents hopes completely. They’re already so fucking understanding of how I feel about letting me take off a year and figure things out. I guess I’ll at least give college a chance but I just want to go to community college or something. I don’t want a fancy life or wealth or whatever. I know they want what they think is best for me which is college and a good paying job and a husband and a white picket fence but that’s just not me. I know they only want the best I do. And I know they’re gonna think they’re failures if I turn out otherwise because my mom already blames herself and it is tearing me up inside that she thinks that but it’s not anything to be ashamed of for me to want something different than the herd of society and I just want them to see that. I want a simple life where I can just make enough to get by and be happy and comfortable with what I’m doing and travel the world and who knows if I’ll get a house or kids or even a spouse. I don’t know what the future holds for me. But I just want them to be happy for me and accept my decisions and lifestyle and not think that they’ve done a bad job as parents because of how I am. As much as I feel their support right now I feel pressured to be someone I don’t want to be at the same time.

I don’t know. I’ll probably continue that talk some other time when I father more thoughts but I feel overwhelmed again and my chest is tight and I just need to breathe. I’ll be okay. That’s enough of that.

Ok.

This is so fucking long lol but what do you expect for not writing for a year Carina? So to wrap things up: this year was insane. I probably missed a lot of stuff. I’m dealing with future plans right now. I really hope I can work things out with Laura, I talked to her a bit tonight and told her about what I just talked about so that’s progress I guess? I built a better relationship with my parents this year and it’s only growing stronger. I want to work on stuff with my brother too because I’ve been the worst sister to him and he doesn’t deserve that. I need to treat people in my life better and I’m working on that. I’m in a wild emotional state and I’m trying to calm down. I’m trying to get myself to read more so I can read spiritual books and educate myself. It’s just been so hard to read lately? I don’t know why. I want to surround myself with positivity from here on out. Quit bad habits. Be around positive people or at least positive voices. I just want to be happy for once. This can be my chance to turn myself around. I hope it works out.