#imagine how productive i would be if i could channel any of this into something useful

[phantomoftheorpheum]

I am in the terrible headspace where the hyperfixation has set in, but not the creativity; so basically I'm just fucking useless all the way around.

[writingsfromhome]

The Golden Years

A/N: really liked this song the first time I heard it and decided to write something based off of it!!

——————————————

5 years ago:

The halls were noisy with the rush of the bell; the day had ended and everyone was eager to get home on the spring Friday. I sit in the music room with my guitar, strumming softly trying to get the tune out of my head.

The music room had the familiar woody smell, I never really knew if that was from the furnishing or all the instruments but I never got tired of it.

The only other people here are Thomas who’s napping after skipping his last class and the music teacher who’s setting up the class for next week’s lesson. He liked me and by extension allowed me to linger in his class after school. And sometimes let my mates stay hidden from hall monitors.

I wave goodbye to him as he finishes up, wishing him a good weekend. He just misses y/n walking in.

Y/n y/l/n. She moved down the road from me a couple years ago and she was always fascinating to me. She’d made friends her first few months here and stuck with them—those same friends hated my friends for various reasons but they always gave me an excuse to interact with her albeit in an annoying way.

Y/n was known to win out the lead for any play our school has put on. She had an infectious energy and I’d spent every moment she caught my eye gazing at her—not that I’d admit it if anyone ever asked.

She spots me and smiles, I remember to smile back at the last minute, shocked that she was acknowledging me with one. We hadn’t been nice to each other in a while; the circles we ran in loved to hate each other.

“Hey Harry,” she walks up to a nearby desk and perches there. “Whatcha working on today?”

I try to compose myself, “hey. Y/n. Uh I’m just trying something out. Something new.”

“Can I hear it?” She asks, her eyes alight with a genuine interest. It catches me off guard again.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I asked didn’t I?!”

“It’s really rough.”

“That’s okay,” she shrugs. She makes herself more comfortable.

“Really rough I-“

“Please?”

With a bat of her eyes I’m putty. I take in a deep breath—here goes nothing. Or if anything this would just be one more thing her friends could make fun of me for. Maybe that’s why she was here.

I strum her what I’d been working on for the last hour and hum along. She listens intently, her expression shifting and opening up as the chords change. Being me and nervous, I end it on the wrong note and nearly poke my eye out with the neck, making an awkward save as I set it down on my lap.

She sits quietly after the production, back straight and gazing out the window with a relaxed smile.

“I know you said that’s rough but that was amazing.” She says to me. “You’re actually bloody talented Harry.”

“Aw uhm well thanks,” I mumble. My cheeks feel on fire. I rarely played for people like this. If they were around while I worked on pieces that was alright but I’ve never had an audience of one.

“No really! You have a gift how long you working on?”

“The day.”

“The day!” She shouts and her enthusiasm makes me laugh. I don’t know why she was being so nice to me but it fills me with a buzzing joy. “You have such a way with your music like each strum is a new part of a story. It’s good! I can imagine it in a movie.”

I blush harder, “Thanks I um…I really enjoy it. Sometimes it’s easier to express myself with this than with…with like a conversation?”

She nods in understanding, “Y’know you should share your music. Start a channel or something online and post stuff! Like covers—people love covers-“

“I don’t really like to sing.”

“But I bet you’re good at it too?”

“Uhm nah I’m-“

“Don’t get shy on me now!” She nudges me and I swear I feel it linger even after she moves her hand away. “You’re such a tough jerk in the halls when you’re picking on my friends don’t go soft now.”

I laugh until I’m doubled over, part overjoyed and part embarassed because it was true. I don’t know why I was suddenly being shy.

“I’ve got to warm up my vocal cords,” I touch my throat once I’m done laughing. She grins. “I can’t sing right now.”

“I’ll hear it one day. I’m holding you to it.” She points a finger at me. “You should be performing this stuff.”

The idea of performing outside the walls of the music room felt both exciting and daunting. But the earnestness in y/n’s eyes give me a sense of courage.

"Maybe," I shrug. "I've never really thought about it.”

"Well, maybe it's time you did," she suggests gently. "Don't let your talents stay hidden."

“Yeah,” I smile. “Makes sense coming from you.”

“What’s that mean?” She raises a brow.

“Our year wouldn’t be blessed with all your productions, you’ve got natural talent too.”

“Yeah well,” now it’s her time to blush. “I really enjoy it.”

“I know.” I say. She catches my eye and a tender fondness passes between us.

“Anyway, I promised Clara I would braid her hair before her football match so I’ve got to go. But…it was nice talking Harry.”

I watch her go and I can’t wipe the dopey smile off my face the rest of the weekend.

5 years later:

I didn’t think I would see her here. After all, she lived across the pond these days and had rsvp’d as a maybe.

But there she stands with the same group of friends that surrounded her even back then. They’re all a little older, grown into people their secondary selves could only imagine becoming. But even now, they’re faceless next to her; she commands all my attention.

She looks stunning in a simple blue bridesmaid dress and her hair grown down in waves. The wind lifts her hair and she looks as majestic as the first day my eyes landed on her. As radiant as every day I’d been with her afterwards. She was golden sunshine and every minute I got to spend with her had been golden too.

Four years since I last saw her. Those four years had gone by in the blink of an eye; it had been fun ‘til it hurt.

I feel a surge of emotions��longing, regret, and the tiniest speck of hope. They compete for dominance as I indulge studying her for a moment longer and just as I look away her head lifts, catching my gaze for the briefest second.

My heart races.

I turn and wander to where my mates pass a football around. Just like we used to. Some things never changed.

Some things did.

“You see her yet?” Thomas asks.

“D’you not see the look in his eye?” Abe, his twin brother, asks.

“Yeah I saw her,” I interrupt before they wheedle me for how I looked. I could imagine it, the regret and sorrow etched into my face. “It’s been four years I’ve already told you lot I’m over it.”

My friends glance at each other.

“I am.” I insist.

“The lady doth protest—ow!” Ramo rubs his chest where I’d tossed the football.

“Where’d this even come from?” I nod to the football.

They shrug, “Some kid had it. We stole it from him.”

I sigh and look around the space. One of our best mates from secondary was getting married to Hailey, one of Y/N’s mates. That’s why half of our class was here a short walk from where we all went to school.

The reception should have started a half hour ago but the couple were stuck in traffic. Apparently. So all the guests have been entertaining ourselves and that meant stealing footballs from children.

“What happened to that lady you were supposed to bring along?” Abe asks.

“Lady?” I ask.

“Yeah wasn’t she a few years older than you?”

I repress the urge to sigh, the same as when we were school boys these friends never stopped teasing each other. Of course I also did my fair share but the trick was to never let them know it cut too deep.

“We ended things a while ago,” I say as if it doesn’t poke at an old wound to say.

A while ago was two weeks ago when she found out my ex would be at the wedding and I had sent a text to the best man clarifying if she would be there. She had seen the message and gone batshit, talking about trust and about being emotionally closed off. It was hours of arguing into the night before she’d left home. We’d broken up the next day.

The old wound was feeling like I was never going to find love like I did with her. With Y/N. Every relationship I’d had since crashed and burned worse than a Nascar vehicle with faulty mechanics.

If I would've known those were the golden years, I would have done things so differently.

But for the last two weeks instead of pathetically staring at pictures with my ex and wondering if I should call her to make up, I was pathetically looking at the polaroids of Y/N and I that I kept in an old box. I wondered what happened to the ones she had, if they had gone up in flames or if they lived in a shoebox under her bed.

My attention’s snagged by the boys elbowing each other and glancing at me and then behind me. I turn just in time for y/n and a couple of her friends to walk up to us.

I try to play it cool but I don’t know how I look; probably like a deer in headlights, and y/n is the bright stark headlights.

But her eyes slide off of me and onto the group and it feels like I’ve become the deer after the headlights have blinked out of sight.

“If it isn’t the poor four,” one of y/n’s friend uses our nickname from school. “And who’s this?”

“Dinis,” Dinis puts the football down and extends his hand to Clara. We watch them flirt.

“Didn’t you know Dinis in college?” Abe asks.

“Clara moved away in college,” y/n says smiling at the interaction happening in front of us. “Obviously she hasn’t felt the Dinis-effect yet.”

Her friend and her laugh.

“Oi Y/N haven’t seen you in a minute how’s the Angel City?” Ramo asks.

“You mean the city of angels?” Y/n raises a brow and the group laughs again. I’m too mesmerized watching her talk, seeing her alive and in person in front of me to catch the joke in time so I smile along with the group. “It’s cool, always something to do. But I don’t actually live there anymore I moved out of the city last year. Get some breathing room.”

My heart skips a beat. “I heard the city’s as rammed as ours.”

I anticipate her attention, us locking eyes, something passing between. When our eyes do meet I feel a rush of familiarity and uncertainty.

And she simply glances like I’m just another bloke to her, nods, and the looks back at the group. “Yeah sometimes even worse if you can believe.”

Someone else asks another question but my head is filled with a loud buzz. Reality feels like it crushes me down as easy as an aluminum can; I was spared a glance. She spared me a glance. That’s all I was to her?

“Where d’you think the newlyweds are?” Clara asks.

“Traffic,” Abe rolls his eyes.

“Think fast,” Thomas suddenly shouts and the football is whizzing past me towards Clara. We watch in horror as it hits her with a thwack in the chest.

“What the fuck Thomas!” Clara holds her hands out as she stares at the dirt staining her blue dress. “What the-“

“That’ll come off,” Clara’s friends assure her. “It’s not mud don’t-“

“Here,” suddenly Denis is beside her and holding out his hand. “I’ll help you clean it off.”

“What the hell mate?” I look at Thomas. He’s flushed and looking scared. I’m too busy looking at him to notice Clara’s pitched the ball back at him and it hits him in the side of the head, knocking some sense back into him.

“Nice one.” Someone mutters.

“I’m sorry!” He finally finds his voice as Clara walks away with Dinis.

“You’ve got shite all over your hair,” Abe points out to his brother.

“I’m outta here before I’m next,” y/n’s other friends starts to back away to the group they were in previously.

“Where?!” Thomas starts rubbing it off which only spreads it further into gelled hair.

“Let’s go,” Abe hauls his brother away with an arm locked around his neck, tussling the dirt in his hair as they go.

“So…” Ramo looks between y/n and me, scratching the back of his head. “That was crazy. I should return this ball to…”

He trails off, walking away from the two of us. Which wouldn’t have been as awkward except he just left a cloud of awkward in his stead.

“Y/N,” I say softly like I was approaching a feral pup.

“Harry,” she replies, her tone polite yet distant, a subtle barrier between us.

“I don’t think they’ve changed much,” I act like I wasn’t aware of everything unspoken.

She smiles politely. “Nope. Just as boyish as the day we all met.”

“That wasn’t our proudest moment-“

“Yeah you boys thought you could beat us girls at British bulldog.”

“Little did we know,” I shake my head. We’d been badly beaten and battered by the girls’ team. We didn’t take to losing very well back then.

“If only we knew then what we know now.”

I look over at y/n; it felt like she was saying one thing but meant something else. Something that sounded close to reminiscing about us.

But with how she was acting it made me feel like I’d made us up. Was it never that serious for her?

“Wouldn’t have fucked up so much?” I ask.

“Yeah something like that,” her lips tip into a half smile. She still hasn’t looked me in the eye for more than a second. I missed those eyes. I missed the way they used to look at me.

“How’s the acting?” I ask. I wait for her to look at me, acknowledge me more than she did. Wait to see if alone together there would be more meaning in the looks we exchange but she stays facing forward.

“It’s slow right now. I haven’t been booking much this season which is why I was able to make it to this.”

“Sorry to hear that,” look at me I want to say instead.

She shrugs. “It happens. Slow seasons then you find yourself booked back to back and burnt out. Nature of the biz as they say.”

“Very LA.”

We go quiet and I feel my heart explode at the distance she was keeping; I can sense her guardedness.

"I've missed you," I confess quietly, unable to hold back the truth any longer. "I think about you often."

Her gaze softens, a fleeting vulnerability crossing her features before it hardens into something stonier.

"It’s been four years," she notes in an even voice. “Surely you’ve moved on Harry. Don’t try to flatter me now.”

I don’t think I had moved on, I think with a sinking heart. I hoped tonight would be a night of reconnecting and exploring if there was anything left of us in the future. But it seemed that y/n had made up her mind about what her future was going to be long before this.

“Oh look Clara’s back,” she spots her friend walking back towards us. Dinis is nowhere in sight but she’s splotchy and windswept.

“I’m going to literally kill that prick. I’ve got a wet spot on my front like I’m still bloody breastfeeding or something.”

“It’ll dry up,” y/n pats her friend’s dress. “It’s sunny out don’t worry.”

“It better by the time we do photos.”

It’s like I’m not even there. They continue talking and slowly turn to walk back to their other friends.

“Nice talk,” I call out.

Clara’s still too busy ranting but y/n glances at me. Her smile is a reflex as she waves, unengaged and apathetic.

I feel a jab in my chest, I don’t know what to think. The last four years I’ve been so afraid I’d let go of the best thing. That I’d never find a love like hers. Meanwhile she’s moved on so much that I wasn’t even an ex any longer. I was just someone she knew in grade school. That hurts. It feels like lava dripping over my chest.

“Y’alright?” Ramo reappears at my side. He looks genuinely concerned.

“Yeah!” I put on a smile I don’t even feel. “Just wondering when this party’s getting bloody started.”

I feel Ramo’s eyes on me as I walk towards another drink but he doesn’t say anything more.

***

I sit with my arm around Y/n and her head rests on my shoulder. Sometimes the quiet moments we existed in beat out the others. They fed my heart and heightened every sense of mine.

“I wrote something,” I whisper into her hair. She turns her head to look up at me and I gently pull away. “A song…for you.”

“For me?” Y/n’s eyes are alight with shock and something else. “You wrote a song for me?”

My heart pounds as I confirm with a nod. “I’m halfway done but I wanted you to hear it.”

“Well go on,” she sits up and angles herself towards me. “I want to hear it!”

I pull my guitar case closer to me and open the familiar snaps, pulling the instrument out and close to me with shaky hands. Y/N watches with an excited attentiveness.

I began the melody that started as a few chords in my head the first time Y/N and I kissed under this tree and has continued to build for the 4 weeks since. This tree felt like it witnessed so much of the 5 weeks we’ve officially been together and I wanted to write an ode to it as much as y/n.

I couldn’t believe it was only 5 weeks but after a summer and a whole semester of flirting and hanging out I’d finally asked her out at the end of January. It was now March and Y/n had gotten her acceptance letter from across the ocean. She had told me last week with nervous hands and I wanted her to know we would always have this thing between us no matter what decision she made.

Y/n smiles as I begin but her eyes grow misty as I finish my final lines I had so far.

"And under the cherry tree, where love and laughter will always be," I sing softly, my voice cracking with emotion. "I'll cherish all these memories, even when you're not beside me."

“Oh Har,” she tips forward and I catch her against my chest, her head buried in my neck. “I can’t imagine living so far from you. Leaving you and everyone behind.”

“It’s the adventure you’ve been waiting for,” I reassure her. “You’re gonna make it big.”

“I don’t know if it’s worth it,” she whispers.

I pry her away gentle so she can look me in the face. I want to selfishly tell her to stay and never leave me. But even more than that I want her to do what she has always been passionate about, what she loves to do.

Love.

I love her, I realize with a clarity that cut so deep it tumbles out of my mouth.

“I love you,” I say. She freezes in my arms and I fumble to continue. “And I want you to live the life you always imagined. You’re destined for amazing things y/n I know it. I’ll always be here.”

“Will you?”

“Of course,” I kiss her on her temple and ignore that she didn’t say it back. That I said it too soon damnit we’d only been dating a month. What was wrong with me?

“I think you need to share your talent with the world,” she reminds me.

“That’s why I joined the talent show with you.” It was y/n’s idea, a final hurrah before we graduate and to prove to myself that I could get over my performance anxiety.

“We’re gonna crush it.”

I nod, the lump in my throat grows too big for words. She seems to sense it like she always does and pulls me into her this time.

It would take her a week to whisper the three words back to me, in the darkened corner of a house party right before she leads me home. It was a long week but so worth it.

***

The next time I catch y/n alone is when I’m talking to Hailey who’s thanking me for the few words I gave for her now husband Michael. The husband in question was doing the Macarena and Hailey was the sort to never be caught dead doing that sort of thing.

That’s why the couple never made sense to either group of friends. Yet they were the ones with a ring on their finger this many years later.

“Hailey oh-“ y/n is tipsy, I can tell with the sheen to her eye and the permanent half-smile etched into her lips. “Sorry didn’t realize-“

“That’s alright!” Hailey wraps her arm around y/n. “This girl is the best. She literally hopped on a last minute flight to be here! Can you believe that? I was crushed when she said maybe but ugh she always swoops in last minute saves the day. That’s always been her, back in the day during one of our school dances right, I got caught with…”

Y/n and I lock eyes as the bride babbles on and there. Finally there. The passing look of two people who know what the other is thinking without a single word.

She seems to catch herself and after an intense few seconds and a small smile she composes her face into an unengaged one and jostles Hailey.

“Hailey Harry doesn’t care! I just wanted to get a photo with you and Mik-“

“He’s too bloody busy doing cringe dances-“

“He’s actually having a drink looking for you now but look at this.”

“What?” Hailey’s head swivels around the room as y/n presents her phone with the groom doing a very serious macarena.

“And they say gen z get all the cringe dances,” I comment. Y/n snorts and then covers her mouth, her laugh falling away into a composed expression.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” I say before I can think. A part of me was getting desperate and a little irritated and another felt heartbroken all over again.

“Do what?” She asks as Hailey prances away from us when she spots Michael.

“Be all serious and composed around me. If I’m funny just laugh. My ego could use a lift.”

She stares with a tight lip and cautious eyes.

“You used to laugh the most at my jokes,” I say a bit softer. “Made me feel like the funniest bloke in the room.”

Her eyes lose a bit of their edge but her mouth is still hard-set and a wrinkle forms between her brows. That was new.

“I-I’ve gotta go.” She says. “Gotta get the picture.”

“Right,” I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her go back to the married couple. Right before she reaches them she turns slightly. When she finds me still watching, she jerks back around.

Hope siphons into my chest.

***

“This is the best song!” Abe shouts in my ear as he and the remaining wedding guests belt out Sweet Caroline.

It was late into the wedding party. Much of the older invitees had gone home and kids with their footballs were probably tucked into bed. What remained were Hailey and Michael’s school friends and a few stragglers that were too drunk to want to go home.

“Final song,” the DJ announces. “Time of my Life.”

All night I had been stealing glances at y/n waiting to see if she would come to me. Reciprocate even an ounce of anything I felt. But she hadn’t. She’d gone out of her way to avoid me even when we’d bumped into each other outside the toilets. She’d simply brushed past with a mumble of something I couldn’t make out.

I think what I said to her made her angrier. The anger, and the cold shoulder was new. It makes me feel small.

But I’d had enough drinks by now to feel confident. Enough to walk to where she dances with some friends.

“Y/n.”

She startles and plays it off with a laugh. “What d’you want?”

I motion my head to the side. To talk.

Hesitation makes her eyes weary but she follows after a moment.

Everyone around us sings along to the song. The irony isn’t lost on me.

“What?” She asks.

I stare at her openly, she allows me as she searches my face herself. I grasp at something to start this off with but I’ve had a few drinks myself.

“I used to think you were completely out of my league,” what comes out is a random thought in the speech I’d built up in my head throughout the night.

Her nose wrinkles, “what are you on about Harry?”

“Don’t do that,” I clutch my shirt. “Don’t act like we’re strangers, like we didn’t have something together.”

Her smile falls away, “we had something…like four five years ago. That’s…that’s ages ago Harry. Tell me you’re not still hung up on it?”

Her voice cuts right through me but it’s her gaze that doesn’t quite look at me that gives her away.

“Look me in the eye and tell me I mean nothing to you now,” I cut through the bullshit. It might have been the realization that I’d stayed hung up on this woman for years, sabotaged my love life on the idea I’d find nothing like what we had. And she stood here in front of me now undermining what we had. Making me feel crazy.

She looks me in the eyes, the eyes that haunted me in my dreams.

“I…it was a long time ago Harry.”

“Then why’ve you been avoiding me all night?”

“I haven’t. We’re talking now?”

“So I’m nothing to you?” I ask, hearing the hurt and wishing I didn’t sound so desperate.

“Look. We were young and free and what we had back then doesn’t actually translate to much when you look back as adults.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? So you can freeze away your feelings for what we had?”

She gapes, then turns away with her arms wrapped around herself like the freezing caught up.

“I don’t know what you want.” She finally says.

“I just…” what did I want? “I want to know if you ever think about us. If you have any regrets…if…”

She sighs, “Of course you cross my mind from time to time. But I wouldn’t have regrets. I can see why someone would have regrets, however, after they just let someone they called the love of their life go. Especially when she needed him the most.”

There it was. Her hot anger.

“When you needed…”

“Yeah!” She barely glances at me. “I was scared of leaving and losing you and being alone and all the unknown things. And you left me. You just…said goodbye to us.”

Woah.

Her eyes prick with tears and she turns back to the dancing crowd. The song was winding down and the venue being cleared. I feel the opportunity pass through my fingers.

If I would have known, I would have held her longer. I would never have left her alone. Especially when she needed me the most.

“Y/n,” in a desperate move I grab for her arm and turn her back around. Her lashes are lined with tears, her mouth open in an “o” as she looks up at me. My eyes can’t help themselves as they flicker down to them. This was the closest I came to holding her like before. Her eyes do the same and I feel my heart racing in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “For what it’s worth.”

“It’s not worth much,” she says through a watery smile. Trying not to cry; trying to stay composed.

“I’m still in l-“

“Stop,” she puts her hand on top of mind and gently nudges it off her arm. She shakes her head and her hair falls gently to cover her face. “I can’t do this right now Harry. I travelled all this way to celebrate our best friends. But the distance between us was for a reason.”

“It’s been years-“

“Doesn’t change how you left me after I gave you my whole heart. Or the fact that that we ended.”

“I truly an sorry,” I say to her retreating figure.

The shame I feel courses through my body; I couldn’t have known better back then. I was young and stupid and I didn’t realize these types of decisions weren’t to be made lightly. That their repercussions would echo for the rest of my life.

I left her under the cherry tree in the courtyard of the school we’d graduated from. It was late June and it haunted my memories since.

—

Under the skyward branches of the blushing cherry tree, a solemn silence hung in the air. It was the last day of our final year, and emotions swirled between us like the spring breeze.

Y/N stood with her back against the tree trunk, her yearbook clasped tightly to her chest, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. I stood before her, my hands nervously clenched in my pockets, heart heavy with the weight of impending decision.

"I can't believe it's over," y/n murmured, her voice cracking with emotion as she meets my eyes. "Four years went by so fast."

I nod, unable to maintain eye contact. It wasn’t school ending that was making us this sad but what would come of us as I would attend school in the country and y/n out.

This decision weighed heavily on my mind ever since I learned y/n was attending ucla across the ocean—a decision she had made long before we acknowledged our feelings for each other. Now facing the idea of long-distance, I couldn’t shake the fear that everything was changing and things would be different in an unknowable way.

"Yeah," I manage to reply. My voice comes out hoarse, my throat tight with tears I was pushing down. “I'm going to miss this... miss us I…”

Her lower lip trembles, emotions ripple across her features. “Harry god I’m gonna miss us, you…just getting to be together everyday!”

I scrub at my eyes, not wanting to cry right now. She notices and wipes them for me. “You've been my rock through everything this last year."

I take a step towards her, closer. She was the sun and I wanted to bask in her glow, always. Except today wasn’t a bright day, my heart breaks at the sight of the tears streaking her cheeks. “Y/N I…” I try to find the right words but they fail me again. In the meantime a hundred chords play through my mind, deepening the grief I felt.

Suddenly a surge of panic grips me, my blood turns cold like it usually did when I thought about her leaving me. When I consider the depth of what this meant.

Deep down I couldn’t bear the thought of losing y/n but at the same time the unknown was playing at my fears, my anxiety. Imagine a future where she’s thousands of miles away. Everyone I know who talks about long-distance always gets their heart broken…distance never makes relationships stronger.

What if, I think, what if I just rip the bandaid off.

Wouldn’t that be the merciful thing to do? Instead of continuing to a point of no return. I mean what if we try long-distance, y/n creates a life in America, and realizes I was holding her back? What if we end up hating each other?

My brow feels slick and my heart pounds away. I clear my throat.

“I love you y/n.” I tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I love you too,” she whispers.

“After this summer, after you leave-“

“We don’t have to talk about this right now let’s just enjoy now and-“

“How can we?” I finally break. “How can we enjoy now when we know there’s an expiry date to all this!”

“Harry,” y/n grabs my hands. Attempts to soothe my anxiety but I’d passed the point of no return. The words continue to tumble out.

“What if…maybe it’s for the best if we…if we let go now.”

“What?” Shock colours y/n’s face and her eyes fill with tears. “What are you saying Har?”

“I don't want us to... to hurt each other trying to make this work.”

Her mouth hangs open and I can see her heart breaking in front of me. It kills me inside.

“But Har,” her voice grows desperate. “We talked about…we could…we’ll make it work-“

“Y/n,” now my own grows desperate. I wanted to stop talking about this, now that I’d made the decision to let go I wanted to just cut this loose and run away. “We’ll only hurt more.”

Her lower lip trembles and tears coat her bottom lash as she looks up at me through her top lashes. She whispers, “This isn’t fair.”

“I know,” I hang my head. “I’m sorry.”

And I was. I didn’t want to be the one to break us up but what choice did I have? I was doing it as the best case scenario.

Tears spill down y/n’s face and her voice is barely audible over the rustling of the cherry tree, “b-but I love you.”

I close my eyes for a brief moment, the sway of the leaves now roaring in my ears. Or maybe that was just the blood rushing to my face. I feel my heart turn to dust and my entire body aches as the weight of the decision coats me. “I love you too y/n. I love you now and always.”

I clasp her hand and squeeze it. She squeezes back, a sob pulled forth by the contact.

“Y/n…maybe this is how we say goodbye. On our own terms. With space to…to heal.”

Y/n cries harder and I pull her in, tucking her into me because she fit so perfectly in my contours. A part of me couldn’t believe I was doing this, I always imagined our goodbye at a Heathrow terminal under bright lights and linoleum floors.

We both cry into each other but I pull away first, I had to be the stronger one.

“I wish you nothing but the best,” I cup her face. “I…”

I didn’t know how to translate the dust of my heart. I kiss her one last time and then again on her forehead.

With that, I turn away unable to stand in the heartbreak. Every step away from her and the cherry tree feels impossible but I walk away from the girl who was my everything, feeling torn between the love I had for her and the fear of what the future would bring.

—

All I’d been thinking about was myself. About how I’d had friends who tried long distance and how their ending was more brutal than ripping the bandaid off from the get go.

That summer we avoided each other at parties, at our local haunts, and on the day she left I watched her car pull away from my bedroom window and leave forever with a leaden feeling in my heart. That I’d made a big mistake, too big to ever fix.

Tonight was the night I was supposed to set thing right. But things were just getting worse.

***

“After party!” Abe wraps his drunken arm around my shoulder. By then I’d sobered up with a quiet moment off to the side, smoking even though I’d tried to quit ten times in the last month. “I thought you quit that you cheeky bugger!”

“I’m going to,” I squish the cigarette against the wall. “You said after party?”

“After party!!” Ramo hollers coming up from behind. I take in the scene before me, the string lights were having their power cut, most of the tables were wiped clear of cutlery and tablecloths. Just like that the magical night Hailey and Micheal had been planning for months was over. Now they had their whole lives in front of them.

“Har?” Someone snaps a finger in front of my face.

“Huh?”

“Where’d you go?” A group had gathered in front of me, a mix of groomsmen and bridesmaid. Y/n isn’t one of them.

“What?” I ask again. “What’s this about an after party?”

“The party isn’t done,” someone replies.

“Please?!” I hear someone else say off to the side. Now that the music had also turned off it had gotten quieter in the venue.

I turn to the other conversation and see Hailey tugging y/n’s arms, trying to convince her of something. And just like that y/n’s eyes meet mine and something like resignation passes through them.

“-you in?” Michael claps my back and I’m jolted back to the crowd in front of me.

“Yeah,” I assumed they asked me about this after party. “Let’s keep the party going!”

Whooping ensures and everyone trickles out into the parking lot.

“Where is this again?” I ask whoever was closest to me.

“Schoolyard?” Clara answers. “If we don’t get kicked out for loitering that is.”

“We’ll just have to be quiet.”

Clara side eyes me and realizes I’m joking. She huffs a laugh. “It’s like hoping for your 1 year old to go to bed without a tantrum.”

“That’s right,” I suddenly remember. “You had a baby last year. Congrats on that Clara.”

She laughs again, “You’re sweet Harry. Thanks. It’s been a hell of a year but I’m a glutton for punishment because all I can think of is skipping the after party to bury my face in my daughter’s. She’s probably asleep though. I’d wake her up.”

I imagine Clara with her daughter, she was always mothering her friends when I’d hang out with y/n in school. “I can see you being a wonderful mum. Your daughter probably adores you.”

“Not as much as I adore her,” Clara sighs. I chuckle and another laugh comes from the other side of me. I startle to see y/n walking beside me.

How long had she been there? Our eyes meet and the smile she sends me is sweet and innocent. Like that day in school long ago when she walked in on me tinkering away on my guitar and asked me to play something for her.

It throws me off just like it did then. I turn away.

“We’re just gonna walk there!” Someone ahead of us shouts back to the group.

“In these heels?” Someone complains.

“The girls can take a car?” Hailey suggests. So some of the bridesmaids pile into one but Clara and y/n stay with Hailey.

“I’m sensible now,” Clara stretches her heel-less foot out. “Y/n you sure you don’t want the ride?”

“I’ve been dancing without these for the last two hours.” Y/n shrugs. “My feet can handle the walk.”

“Are we betting how long it takes to get kicked out?” I ask the remainder of the crew.

Bets start flying, I bet 40 minutes.

“D’you think the cherry tree is still there? That was probably the loveliest bit of our school every spring.” Clara asks. “I haven’t been back in ages.”

“Yeah!” Hailey pipes in. “We did some of our photos there when we did save the dates. We ended up using the ones at the garden though.”

I glance at y/n, I can’t help it. She has the same idea because she looks at me too. I didn’t understand what was happening tonight. I’d nearly given up on reconciling but here she was suddenly giving me softened looks, her hard edges dulling down enough for me to bump into her shoulder and try joking.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“What?” She balks. “Ideas?!”

“Hey Har,” Hailey turns to me. “D’you still play? That guitar remembers guys? He was always playing that thing.”

I avoid y/n’s gaze now.

“Not really.”

“Harry’s a tight-ass finance bloke now,” Ramo says for me. “That creative spirit died after he and a little somebody-“

“I’m not,” I cut Ramo off knowing he was going to say something that would make all of us awkward. I continue to avoid y/n’s attention. “A tight-ass finance bloke. I like to think I’m a fine-ass finance bloke. And it’s because I just don’t get the time these days.”

“You were so good,” comes y/n’s thoughtful commentary.

“He was wasn’t he?!” Hailey continues. “Thought I’d see you on TV or something. That show with the contestants? I always thought if anyone from school went on there it’d be Harry.”

“Thanks Hailey,” I’m uncomfortable under everyone’s scrutiny. And the way Abe keeps wriggling his eyebrows at me and tilting his head to y/n.

By now we’ve reached the school grounds and watch as the rest of the girls scramble out of the car. I spot the cherry tree on the far side, no longer in bloom and smaller than I remember.

There’s a buzz about the group, like being together all these years later in the schoolyard brings with it some life-changing magic. Like time’s worn thin tonight and we can almost reach out and touch our school selves.

“Hailey and Michael!!” Ramo shouts incredibly loud. My 40 minute bet shrinks to 20. “Official Mr. And Mrs!! Let’s fucking go!!!”

They all take off down the field, open bottles dangling from their hands, jackets and gowns flying in the wind as they go.

I take off after them, laughing as a bubble of relief flows up from my lungs. It was just like before, running across the school field with my mates, laughing and shouting random shite into the world.

I glance to my side and y/n’s pumping her legs but falling behind the group. I hold out my hand without thinking but she comes to a full stop. So do I.

“These fucking heels.” She peels them off and sighs in relief, tossing them to the side and taking a swig of her wine bottle.

“You might need those later.”

“Fuck those heels!” She shouts louder.

I laugh and hold out my hand, “We’re falling behind. C’mon!”

She grabs it and we run to catch up, and I’m grinning so hard I feel like my cheeks are going to split. This might be an illusion of a moment I could only dream of but I didn’t care. Despite the night sky and nippy air, everything was sunny and golden.

The finish line was the cherry tree at the end of the yard and our friends pile around it, out of breath.

“Jesus I’ve got stitches,” Clara complains. “I’m never doing that again.”

Hailey giggles and wraps her arms around her husband. “I love all of you so much. Thanks for making this day so special.”

We all pour our love back to the couple. Alcohol and conversation begins to flow around the group and eventually I find y/n sitting beside me tugging at the grass.

“So you really don’t play anymore?” She asks softly after a while.

Her eyes are round and inquisitive as she asks, and I could drown in them. I think of everything I could tell her about not playing—how it made me think of her, how it hurt too much to play after a while, how that part of me was dead and I didn’t like to dredge it up anymore.

Instead I shake my head and leave it hanging, staring down into my lap.

“Why?” She whispers, edging closer to me so that our knees nearly touch. I wonder if she notices or if it even matters.

Again I think of all the reasons and my eyes fill with tears as I do. I’d shut away so much of myself because I had too much love for y/n that couldn’t go anywhere. I’d shut the love away and myself as well.

She taps my knee and I look up, her eyebrows scrunch together when she notices the tears.

“You were supposed to do big things with that guitar of yours,” she whispers to me. And it sounds exactly like something she would have said to me all those years ago. It’s too much. I take the bottle of wine sitting beside her and take a swig. She watches me with concern.

“Music,” I clear my throat when my voice comes out hoarse. “Music didn’t really hold the same magic afterwards. After we…I stopped…speaking in it.”

“Well fuck. That makes me really sad.”

“It’s alright—numbers became my new language.”

“How depressing!”

I laugh and cut myself short when it nearly turns into a sob.

I was sitting with y/n after all these years, under the cherry tree, and she was farther away than ever.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “For being a chicken. Leaving before you left me. Then I just watched you go.”

Y/n opens her mouth and closes it after a second. Voices from the group drift over to us, Michael discussing honeymoon plans, Clara showing Dinis photos of her daughter, someone talking about a teacher we all hated.

“That was really sweet what you said to Clara earlier,” y/n says. It’s so random it takes me a second to recall.

“Oh yeah. Well she was always fussing over your friends like a mum. At least whenever I hung out with all of you.”

“She did. Makes sense she’s the first of us to be a mum. Although it wasn’t really planned—I’m really glad it turned out like this for her in the end.”

I nod, unsure where this was going.

“Har I-“ y/n’s voice sticks and she quiets again. It kills me to wait instead of telling her to spit it out.

“Y/n,” I say gently when she presses her lips together and doesn’t speak. I nudge her knee this time. “What?”

Our eyes meet and a galaxy of things rush between us. Memories, like distant stars, flicker with joy and pain. We’re caught between them—caught in the gravitational pull of the past and the very solid present of each other.

“I…I was hurting so bad after. After you said-after we broke up. I forgot you were probably hurting too. That the hurt could have always lingered too.” Y/n admits.

I forget to breathe as a constellation of emotions pools in our eyes, an ache from the unspoken admission that maybe we had missed each other all of this time.

“We were so young,” y/n continues. She picks at the grass. I imagine it helps feel in controls amidst the emotional storm happening between us.

“We were.”

“So free,” she laughs a little.

“Yeah. Too free. I don’t think I realized what I wanted until it was too late.”

“You had the whole summer,” the soft accusation cuts deep. I feel the gravity of how much it affected her.

“I was so scared of the hurt I…”

“Yet we hurt anyway.”

Those four words suck the oxygen out of my lungs, I couldn’t respond even if I wanted to.

We sit in another silence, I think about the version of us that didn’t leave the cherry tree separately. The version that kept holding on.

Maybe there could be a version of us that comes back to the cherry tree and leaves together this time. That thought spurs me into action.

I stand and brush the grass off my pants. Y/n watches me with a confused expression.

I hold my hand out to her for the second time that evening.

“Dance with me under the cherry tree?”

She flushes as our friends quiet down. But she grips my hand and I pull her up towards me.

“Really?” She whispers.

“Where’s the music?” One of our friends asks and as we begin our slow dance a phone breaks out in a slow number. It makes y/n giggle.

“This is incredibly cheesy.”

“Just embrace it.” I tell her. “The last time we were here-“

“We don’t have to keep talking about it,” she looks up at me. “It was so long ago. We can’t change the past. We really were young and we just have to-“

“Y/n,” I cut her off. “We were young but our love was real.”

This leaves her speechless. She simply furrows her brows and blinks away whatever emotion it pulls forth. And with her arms locked tightly behind me and my arms on her waist, we continue to sway. A quiet yearning defying time and distance fills the space between us; even as I pull her flush against me and she buries her face in my neck.

“That’s more like it,” I can hear Abe say in the back with a whistle before everyone laughs and goes back to chattering.

“So,” y/n says softly after a while. “When I blew you off at the wedding you were going to say something.”

I hardly remember. I was going to say a lot and I was probably a few drinks in.

“I lied.” She continues. “I tried to forget about you. I held onto the anger so I wouldn’t hurt when I thought about you. Then I looked you up every once in a while expecting some musical thing attached to your name but I never did see anything—now I know why.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle.

“So you really stopped after we broke up?”

“Yes,” I say again. “I tried that summer but everything sounded like…like a donkey trying to sing. I gave up on it ever sounding good again.”

“That’s a shame Harry,” she says and I know she means it but I don’t want to focus on me.

“So you looked me up did you?”

“Don’t start on that,” she flushes. I drop it but not the smile on my face. She notices and buries her face into my shoulder.

We continue swaying to whatever song was queued on our friends’ phone. It feels like we’re all 17 again and staying up later than our parents would like. It felt like we were all young and free, not 20-somethings sitting around our married friends.

“I can’t believe we’re all back here again.” I comment.

“I know. Feels fake. Especially being back here, with you.”

“I hope this is alright?” I pause but y/n tightens her grip.

“It is. Y’know no matter how many people filled the space after you.” Y/n says. “It was never you.”

My breath catches. Was she saying-

“Incoming!” Someone shouts and before I can ask where the group erupts in chaos. People run every way I’m surprised nobody bumps heads.

“What!?” I say just as a flashlight beam cuts across my face. The police. “Oh fuck! Let’s go!”

I grab y/n’s hand and we run away from whatever authority was stalking towards us with flashlights.

It’s just like the old days.

“Harry!” I hear Thomas yell up ahead and I veer to the right towards it.

“Ow! Shit!” I hear y/n shout behind me before she releases my hand.

“What? What are you doing?!” I rush back to her.

She’s picking a rock out of her foot, behind her the lights grow closer.

“Those fucking heels!” I shout.

“Bad decision!” She tosses another pebble off her foot.

“No time! Get on!”

“What?” She freezes but I turn around and crouch, tugging her arms around me so she can get the hint. She loops her legs around my waist and even though I’m slowed down we somehow make it, laughing and stumbling, towards Thomas and Abe. They wave at us from just beyond the school ground and once we make it in the clear we head back to the venue and our parked cars.

“That was insane,” they gush.

“Felt like the golden years,” I grin.

“The fucking golden years,” they laugh.

“Okay designated drivers,” Michael says when he catches sight of us. “We have to get out of here.”

There’s a final round of bidding the newlyweds adieu and waving them off. I look for y/n once they blink out of sight.

“I came with Jamie,” she wraps her arms around herself.

I take my jacket off and drape it around her. I’m transported to doing the exact same thing after house parties because y/n would complain that a jacket would ruin her outfit and then walk home shivering.

“What if you go home with someone else?” I ask.

“You’ve got a car?”

“No,” I regret not driving myself now. “I came with one of the boys.”

“Shite.”

“Yeah…”

“Where are you staying?” She asks.

“Uhm…I came from my flat. Near Shoreditch.”

“Oh right.” She looks away. “You live in the city…right. I’m staying at my mum’s.”

“That’s not too far. My parents still live down the road from yours.”

“I know,” she smiles. “What if you dropped me home? And I invite you in?”

“Y/n,” I tug her closer. “What’s this you’re suggesting?”

“Staying?”

The sight of her, the feel of her, her scent and her perfect hand on my chest envelop me. I couldn’t say no; I was under her spell.

“That would turn this amazing evening into an amazing weekend.”

“And who knows what comes next,” she whispers as I lean the rest of the way. I want to kiss her.

“I want to kiss you.”

She doesn’t respond. She simply stretches up and presses her lips to mine. My heart collects itself and explodes in an explosion of slime.

She feels the exact same, tastes the same, but the confidence is new. It makes me dizzy. I want her even more.

“Get a fucking room!” Thomas says from behind. “Are you two gonna need a ride or planning on shagging in the bushes over there?”

I flip him off and finish the perfect kiss, using every bit of my willpower as y/n’s hand trails down my neck and back to my chest.

“Go on,” I say without even looking at my friends. “We’ve got an after after party.”

“Gross,” someone grumbles behind us.

“G’night!” Y/n shouts and with our chests heaving we break apart, grab hold of each other’s hands, and begin the walk to her house.

We walk in silence—our hands swinging between us tells you everything you need to know about how we were feeling.

At her front door y/n smiles up at me. It feels like deja vu, standing in her doorway with her looking at me like that. Knowing we were going to her bedroom just to get in bed. Time folds in on itself as I press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m so glad I couldn’t stay angry tonight,” she strokes my face. “I would’ve missed all this.”

“Me too,” I whisper. “I’m glad my mug’s so handsome it wore you down.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “It wasn’t the mug. Although it is even more handsome than the last time I saw it.”

I kiss her, “Mmm then what was it that wore you down?”

“I dunno,” she sighs. “You? Us?”

Us.

“Whatever it was, I’ll make sure to write it a thank you note. Now why don’t you open that door because my hands are not going to stay PG for very long. And I’m pretty sure your mum’s got one of those camera doorbells.”

“Oh god,” she whips around and laughs before slapping a hand to her mouth. “Sorry mum!”

We stifle our laugh and step inside. Deja vu comes rushing at me again at the familiarity of her home.

As we sneak up to her room I think about what y/n said. It was true, even though she couldn’t pinpoint it. Despite how we felt at the beginning of the night it was always going to end this way. Something about us was always meant to come back to each other.

You. Us. Her.

It was always her.

[slay00ryu]

silly but... an MC who likes or wants to put makeup on the cast for fun?

Make Up Artiste.

Ronin - The Self Made Devil.

You are someone who loves to do creative make up looks, paintings all over your face, the exact copies of cartoon characters, make up inspired by a fictional character. You did all that.

Ronin knew about it, and he encouraged you in your creative ways.

"Damn baby, neat work. Looks perfect."

He'd say and kiss the top of your head or your knuckles to not mess your make up, well if he felt more annoying then he would.

Blowing air onto your face, kissing, poking, anything to get you riled up and irritated. He loved your threats.

"I will poke you eye out with my eyeliner I swear to God." You said after Ronin ruined yet another attempt to do your eyeliner.

"Awh, you know you love me." He barked out a laugh and pulled you into his lap so you would sit instead of standing while you're trying to win the war between your shaky hands and the make up tool.

One day you decided that you want to give Ronin a make up look, you even planned out one especially for him. A look that screams The Devil when you look at it and looks very masculine so Ronin's grotesqueness would be satisfied too.

But could you ask him for that? You sighed heavily as you looked at the drawing you made, that was the exact look you planned out. A whole white face, with lots of reds and blacks.

"What's up darlin'? Why feelin' so down?"

There was an elbow resting on your head, a man standing right next to you.

"Oh, Ronin! Um, I-"

You looked down at the sketch. The man lifted your head so you would look at him.

"C'mon. Spill it. I see how much you want to say something."

He snatched your sketchbook from you and inspected the drawing.

"Is that a new look?"

He looked at you, as if he was trying to imagine you with that make up on.

"Nah, it's not your regular style. Who's this for?"

And here it was. The question you wanted to avoid, but it was only natural for Ronin to see right through you.

"It was meant for... you."

Ronin's chuckle filled your ears, like a melody from a broken music box, beautiful yet oddly mysterious.

"Why are you so embarrassed darlin'? Come on, you can do this look on me."

He took off his beanie, lifting you up from your chair just to sit down himself and place you on his lap.

"So what will it be?"

His cocky grin drove you insane, but he also made you extremely happy. You kissed his cheek and gathered all your make up products.

You were sitting on his lap while you were doing that look, somehow he was very much obedient, keeping his eyes close when you told him to, not making any weird faces so your work won't be in shambles. Somehow giving Ronin this make up made you feel so overjoyed...

Angel - The Beautiful Soul.

A make up artist dating a model, who also happens to have a YouTube channel about make up and fashion? This felt like a dream every time you thought about it.

Angel gave you so many ideas for new looks, some related to her as Maria, some to her as The Heartsick Angel and some just to her. Your girlfriend who definitely overworks herself.

You were in the middle of creating another look filled with inspiration after Angel's new kill. The new idea looked pretty innocent when someone didn't look closely. Under all that innocence emphasized by a lot of pinks and hearts, a biblical angel was hidden, small eyes were all around the forehead and sides of the face. Some eyes were even supposed to be drawn on the neck.

"Now I just need to find someone to model for me."

You sighed after the sketch was done. You were proud of this, every detail was well thought, carefully placed to not destroy the composition.

While you were lost in your own inner world, two arms were wrapped around your shoulders and a sweet giggle met your ears.

"Did someone say a model?"

Angel!

Right, why didn't you think about it earlier? All of the looks were inspired by her anyway so she could as well be the model , right?

You turned around on your chair to look at her with dozens of lights in your eyes.

"You would like to model for me?"

You asked, your voice full of hope and barely contained excitement. You could swear that you saw two sparks dance in Angel's eyes after you have asked the question.

"Oh Gosh you're even asking?! You're so talented Y/N!"

Her words made you blush.

"And you know what? We could use it as an opportunity to boost your social media so more people would hire you."

Angel crossed her arms, she was thinking about something, something that had you in it.

"What do you mean?"

"You will record a video with me dummy! My followers will love you."

She chuckled and took your hand in hers to pull you up from the chair.

She looked so excited, and you were just so captivated by it. You didn't think twice before you had agreed to this and went to the recording den with her.

Misaki - The Great Fool.

You are a cosplayer, you post some videos online for fun, a variety of make up tutorials, acting videos or just silly videos in a cosplay.

You absolutely love doing this, it makes your inner child get what it always wanted, dress ups for fun. Fulfilling your childhood dreams felt sweet, it made your days happier.

Especially when your partner is your biggest fan. Misski, the worldwide known assassin, also known as your very best friend and partner, was very ecstatic when you shared your cosplaying passion with her. They were so excited to watch you prepare your cosplays on calls with them.

Your biggest dream was to do a duo cosplay with Misski, but them living on the other side of the globe wasn't really helping this dream come true. You were slowly giving up on this dream, just feeling so disappointed that you couldn't enjoy this hobby with your lovely partner.

But unexpectedly to you Misski found themselves in your apartment. She was supposed to assassinate an impotent politician and that's why she was sent to your town.

"Oh my! Misaki! I'm so happy to see you!"

You wrapped your arms around them, almost squealing from all the feelings that washed over you.

"I'm happy too, sweat pea."

They said and wrapped their arms around you too.

"You know what I'm also excited about?"

Their question caused you to back away a little.

"Hm? For what?"

You asked, brushing a strand of their hair back to where it was supposed to be.

"We'll be able to cosplay together!"

Their exclamation made you realise that they are right! Now that Misaki is here with you, you can do that duo cosplay you wanted with them!

"You're so right omg!"

You were smiling from ear to ear.

"After you're back from this assassination, you will not escape my make up kit."

You gave her the playful threat and a peck on the lips.

"I'll hold you onto that then. Oh yeah, watch my flower for me, don't want it to be all sad while I'm away."

They winked at you, obviously hinting at the fact that you will miss them.

And of course, they will miss you too.

At least until you're done with the cosplay look...

V - The warrior of Justice.

You are someone with a great passion for make up, maybe you're not an influencer or a real make up artist, but you love doing it.

It helps you get your creative spirit out, and it makes you feel and look great, what's there to not like?

V was a fan of your creative soul, the way you looked when you were focused, the fire in your eyes when you knew that you were doing something right, the proud and excited smile you were showing him.

These seemingly small things made his heart flutter.

And you were just so happy whenever you could show him a new project that you were working on for so long.

"V! V! V! V!"

You ran into the living room, hands full of make up products.

"My love? What is it?"

He caught you before you almost fell to the floor.

"Please be careful."

He sighed and helped you stand straight, then he crouched to collect your make up.

"Why have you decided to grace me with your presence?"

He asked. V was always such a charmer even when he didn't realise it, you were just so happy with this. Also his flustered face was even more adorable.

"V can I try to do make up on you?"

You asked in excitement, you gave him the best puppy eyes you could master.

"Oh, how could I ever not give in with you?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and deep, it made your heart flutter.

"Oh my! You're going to look so good, I promise!"

With a small hint of a smile, V followed you to the bathroom.

This moment of quality time that you two shared would stay in both your and his minds for a while, that's for sure.

[dailycharacteroption]

Mind Smith (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by SavvyBanani on DeviantArt)

Creativity is perhaps the greatest treasure of the human mind, a product of imagination that drives one to turn a thought into reality. Without it, ttRPGs would not be possible. Heck, this blog would not be possible both in the fact that I wouldn’t be writing it, and the fact that there would not be the technology to give me a space to do so in the first place.

Of course, creativity requires a lot more than just imagination. It requires materials and at least a basic understanding of how to use them.

But what if you could skip the material step, and create directly from the mind? Literally will something into existence?

While there are plenty of spells  that can do just that, conjure something imagined by the wielder, there are also those that can bring about a weaponized ideal without any magical training. With a thought, they can bring about a figment of a weapon so detailed that it has an effect on reality. Such practitioners, these “mind smiths” can never truly be disarmed, and can prove to be incredible masters of their tulpa weapon.

Now, if you’re at all familiar with the vast ocean of archetypes for First Edition, your mind might be bringing up names like “Mind Blade or Spellblade Magus”, or “Gloomblade Fighter” and the like. And you’d be right to do so, for this archetype certainly does serve as a way to emulate those concepts and more in this edition (though I’d still check out my conversion of the Spellblade to Second Edition on my Patreon).

Of course, the exact specifics of how these warriors create their weapons can vary a lot. They might draw upon quasi-real shadows, or have honed the idea of their weapons through training. Or maybe they were blessed with the ability to do so by some greater will or happenstance. The specifics only really matter for character flavor and story. But for now, let’s see exactly what the archetype can offer.

Naturally, the dedication to this archetype grants the power to create such a weapon, though it’s specifics vary. Some have a smaller, more agile weapon, while other have a larger weapon with reach. Either way, the damage dealt can vary by day. Furthermore, they learn to create a small keepsake such as a bit of jewelry or a small figurine which, while on their person, lets them channel the magic runes on it into their weapon, improving it’s power to be comparable to a real magic weapon.

With a thought, many wielders can briefly shift their projected weapon to a form that acts as a mobility aid, letting them leap further.

Many also infuse their weapon with magical force, making them perfectly suitable for fighting ghostly foes.

Those with the skills can also shape their weapon into useful tools for whatever they are working on, though only one tool at a time, not a whole kit.

As they grow in mastery, many refine the shape of their weapon to emulate a handful of useful quirks to it, such as multiple striking surfaces, an entangling shape, the weight to knock foes back, and so on.

A fun thing about a mental weapon is that breaking it doesn’t do much, but scattering the shards of your weapon can be a deadly attack against multiple foes, shredding them before reforming the weapon.

Some are able to prepare slightly different alternate shapes for their mental weapon, letting them switch to a slightly different fighting style when needed.

Rather than a conical blast, some are also capable to channeling a projectile through their mental weapon, striking from afar.

Others still learn to be able to add a different enchantment to their weapon each day, adding things like flame and frost to the equation as needed.

With enough practice, their weapon can even reflect the properties of cold iron or silver.

Finally, powerful mind smiths can learn to add alignment-based runes, as well as swap out their temporary runes on the fly.

This is a fun archetype if you want your character to never be without a weapon (which does require some finangling if the GM wants to do any scenario in which the party is captured.) It’s also got some fun ways to upgrade and use the weapon in battle. Naturally, martial classes are the best pick here, ranging from fighters and swashbucklers who want a signature weapon with a little pizazz, to champions that channel their righteous might into a blade, to the rogue that always seems unarmed until their not, and even the occasional spellcaster that has a special trick up their sleeve for emergencies (as well as every tool they need for crafting). Either way, their power is certainly fun and impressive.

When playing a character like this, it can be fun to design your mental weapon. Does it resemble a real weapon? Is it a unique creation? Does it have clearly defined edges and design, or is it more of a blurry shape with an all too solid edge or striking surface? Your imagination (and therefore your character’s) is the only guiding factor here.

Ever since seeing one as a young child, Alban has never gotten the image of an elven curve blade out of his mind. The young dromaar tried to recall over and over again every detail of the weapon from his mind, until the time came that he discovered he could project it to his hand. His orcish kin may disdain his choice of shape, but the image of that weapon was a formative experience for him, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

The western reach of Veltala Forest has been overcome with a blight that has given it the name “Skitterwood”. An apt name, as it infests the very trees with eggs that grow at irregular and unnatural rates, resulting in all manner of insectile horrors. However, the guardian druids are fighting back, enlisting the forest’s denizens and wielding spears drawn from their very will against the encroaching horror.

They say that in the temple of the God of Justice in Port Maw, the champions there train in an unusual technique, focusing their idea of justice into the image of a weapon until they can call it forth to strike down the servants of wickedness. However, despite the religious nature of the order, they are open to teaching the technique to others, as long as they prove good of heart.

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on the Bowser vs. Eggman epic death battle?

That's not usually my scene, to be honest. One of those things I swore off in my more cynical years as being too, I dunno, "mainstream." It was a Screw Attack thing, right?

Watching this now I'm really shocked at how this basically has television-quality production value. Digging around, I guess they went independent recently and ran a kickstarter for future episodes, and I imagine they might still pull royalties in on old episodes, some of which have almost 50 million views. SocialBlade estimates an upper cap of $50k a month, but knowing how SocialBlade rates my channel earnings are probably more like $20k-$30k.

Anyway, having watched the episode for myself, I don't think I disagree with any of that. Like, spoilers for the above video, but...

Eggman loses. Because of course he did. Bowser's whole thing is that he knows magic, and he employs several wizards. That gives him a blank check to basically do anything. As the video notes, he's even basically come back from the dead more than once. All of Eggman's attempts to control magic or mystical creatures end in him getting blown out and Sonic having to swoop in and clean up. Chaos, Dark Gaia, the Zeti, etc.

And, like, the thing about Bowser is, he always makes, like, progress. He succeeds in kidnapping Peach, although only temporarily. We often watch Eggman's schemes fall apart in real time.

Even without all the math to calculate how hard Bowser can punch something, I could have probably told you Eggman would lose.

[ninjapaste]

dude your art is so GOOD!!! Do you take any classes or have any tips to share? that resource post you reblogged the other day was helpful but i've felt so stuck in my art. I don't know if you have anything u learned that just made something click for u or anything like that?

Tysm anon!!!👍

In terms of your questions, I apologise i advance for the long answer im about to give and possibly things you already know haha:

I guess in terms of what classes i take, Ive gone from GCSE to A level Art and design (Fine art), and both courses have helped me to learn the importance of observation studies.

However, its moreso all the art i practice in my own time that has played the biggest part in my art improvement journey. I adopted art as a big hobby around 2018, and really ever since then I tend to draw/create for myself every day, however big or small it may be.

I guess my first tip would be to indulge in a 'sketchbook' or space to work in freely, it could be any form but the importance is that its personal and can be picked up whenever. I find that having a sketchbook to draw in has really helped with productivity and creating new ideas. I think you can go into a sketchbook space with any mindset and it can work wonders, like for example if you wanted to focus purely on challenging yourself, you can do that! If you just, want to doodle without thinking, go ahead! After all, its a sketchbook for you and nobody else, so go wild!

My next tip would definitely be, when you are feeling stuck in art, to take inspiration from a wide range of different things be it in real life or on the internet, a building or a really cool tree, since I find it defintiely fuels the creation of new ideas/concepts that can provide a path out of that creative rut. I guess to an extent there may always be periods where you have that 'I have no idea what to draw!' Feeling, and thats okay! Sometimes its refreshing that helps the most. But I often see that the solution to being in a rut is usually REFERENCING, wether it be trying to accurately draw the anatomy of an arm or if I just saw a cool design/pose/style on Pinterest and i drew a bunch of wacky characters from it. In fact, I find that places like Pinterest or Resplash are such good resources to hone imagination and generally most art skills by looking at and drawinf from all the cool images (and get some of that inspo!). And if im not using Pinterest, im usually using an art book as reference! (The itsv and splatoon art book helped me so so much lol)

On the topic of REFERENCING, its mega important! Depending on imagination/memory feels pretty good at times but its always beneficial to have image references in your process when you find its good to have them. I woudl always recommend having a reference when drawing poses/expressions/anatomy because the more you use them, the more you learn about how an object like a face muscle, a torso or even light behaves and looks and the easier it is to draw/depict them.

The next tip is uh YOUTUBE, or any account/person who's art inspires you in particular. I found that certain channels like Ethan Becker, Marc Brunet, Marco Bucci and more have helped me the most to gain confidence in drawing and learning how to practice it better. Of course, theres a lot to learn from a plethora of other channels too, even ones that dont specifically promote themselves as teachers! Also, if theres a certain style/art approach or an artist that appeals to you, study it in any way you like! Analyse an artist's work or ask/find out about their personal process (or even watch a speedpaint/art stream)! Sometimes it can be a big inspiration booster and skill boost to do just that (plus the 'artist' could be any piece of media/thing too!! Like a game or something).

Ok ok last paragraph haha, on the topic of your last question. Thinking back, its hard for me to define any specific moment or thing that gave me a 'click' moment. Its more like a process of growth that starts with learning and understanding a new thing, then familiarizing myself with using it successfully/'correctly' by studying and practicing, so that eventually its like muscle memory or easier to use in my work.

Hope this helps!!! If theres anything else you want to ask, dont be afraid to dm or send another ask!!

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Statistical Outliers

More drabble. Fixed it so there's links to the other parts just in case!

Noon drawing near had never been so bothersome. This was about the time he could tempt with cooking channels, game shows for the odd bored soul, and sappy dramas for everyone locked up in their house. It was usually the easiest part of the day, mostly re-runs and making himself something for lunch. Now, all his stolen time seemed to be catching up to him. He has never dreaded that stupid clock more than he did now, and he hated that.

The kid had taken to playing with his sharks. Yes, that’s right, playing. Apparently, sharks could play. They chased him from one end of the room to the other, crashing between themselves when the kid suddenly changed direction. The kid loved stopping short and watching them be suddenly forced to veer the other way. The string of bubbles they made from the effort danced like jellyfish in the blue light.

They want to eat him, he told himself. If he threw him in there, they would eat him. They’re only pretending, only gaining his trust. Like you. It’s all an act, remember?

His internal clock ticked for fifteen minutes to twelve, and by that time he couldn’t take the waiting any more. Just rip the bandage off now while your nerve is still there.

He did one more quick check of his shows, then unplugged.

“Come on. We have to get going now.”

“Okay.” The kid quickly turned back and waved to the aquarium. “Bye, Anchor. Bye, Barge. Be back in a sec.”

The sharks, who needed to keep swimming if they wanted to, you know, breath, stood floating still as the kid retreated back towards the door, next to Vox. Sharks couldn’t look somber, and they weren’t smart enough to understand. He knew that. So why were they holding their breath as the kid left?

“They can swim down to the conference room. It’s just below us.” He explained.

“Really?” He gasped. “That’s amazing! This has got to be the biggest, coolest aquarium I’ve ever seen.”

He glanced around once more, seemingly looking for something.

“But how does it connect? I mean, your monitor floor just kinda drops off.”

“The conference room is…sorta of in the middle of the tank, towards the bottom. You see how far down it drops? If you go down far enough, you’ll see the room. To them, I imagine it looks like a big square bubble.” He explained. Installing it had been a pain, but he thinks it was worth it in the end.

“For a guy with a lot of electronics, you sure do like getting close to water.” He joked.

“I’m a CEO. Sharks are my spirit animals.” He teased back. Wait, stop. Serious mode, remember? The kid grabbed his coattails again as the lift dragged them down.

The main conference room was at the end of a hallway. There were other doors there, for other meeting rooms and certain desk workers, but nothing like the main room. Vox made sure that room had prestige to it the others did not. If someone was invited there, it was always important. More often than not, the Vees would make use of the place as their personal scheme room. Val has tried talking him into finding other uses for the space, even just quickly, but Vox has tried to keep it as professional of a place as possible. Even if he had to pull teeth to do it.

The plan, originally, was to put him in there. But, as they kept walking, he thought about how he’d constantly think of the kid running and cowering in that room while he was sitting and supposed to be paying attention. He’s not sure he’d be able to see the space without considering it and…well, it wasn’t productive to be distracted like that.

He pulled open a different door, one of the other conference rooms he usually reserves for employees going through earnings and whatnot. This place was much more familiar with the concept of people’s suffering, especially by Vox’s displeased hand. Outside, the conference room attendant seemed confused. The rooms were all maintained down to the minute, each project given its own timeframe. Most likely, there would be a meeting in there shortly. He gave her the universal sign for ‘fix that because I’m taking this over’, which amounted to a slight scowl and a dismissive wave.

The kid ran over to the aquarium windows. While not as grand as the view from the main conference room, you could still into the space. Anchor and Barge have apparently chosen not to swim down. He can’t say he blames them, even if a small part of him wished they would show. What’s the matter boys? You can’t tell me that now you suddenly don’t want to see a little blood.

Lacking the bigger fish, the baitfish came out from hiding. Little glowing techno eyes were infatuated with the kid’s twirling fingers.

“Do they have names?”

“I don’t give names to feeder fish.” If you name it, you might mistakenly get attached to it, a problem Vox was getting too familiar with.

“I dub thee, Nemo.” He said, mimicking a sword with his pointer finger and tapping where their shoulders might have been.

“Really? ‘Nemo’? It’s not even a clownfish.”

The kid looked at him, very confused.

“…why would it have to be a clownfish?”

“Because Nemo is a clownfish.”

“What are you talking about?” Why was he looking at him like he was crazy?

“The fucking fish from that animated flick, Nemo!”

“…um, Nemo is the captain of the Nautilus. I’ve never heard of clownfish named Nemo.”

A quick search jumped across his head. Oh. That movie didn’t come out until after the kid was dead and buried. And Hell wasn’t exactly known for playing kid flicks. To be honest, the only reason he watched it was because Velvette said he would like it.

It was perhaps the one time she recommended a good movie. It just also happened to be a kid’s movie. So Vox could never watch it again. Unless he had an excuse. Which he now had.

“Note that under things you need to watch later.” He logged to himself.

“You…want me to watch a clownfish? A clownfish named Nemo?”

“Trust me, you’ll understand later.” Assuming the kid ever spoke to him again.

Which he would. He was stupidly trusting and forgiving. Sure, this was personal and, well, he’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t completely taking advantage of that trust. It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t deceiving the kid. That…that what he planned to do to him wasn’t going to make Vox feel like he got stabbed in whatever was left of his black heart.

He just kept smiling. Naivety has never looked so cursed. At least suspect something, anything!

“Okay, I trust you. If you say it’s worth it, I’d think you’d know better than me.”

That was the end of his rope. He couldn’t be here right now.

Faster than he meant to, too quick to look normal, he turned to walk out.

“I’ll…I’ll be back in a minute. Something just came up. And…and then we got to talk about something else.”

���Anything I can help with?” Concern crept into his voice, and he moved just slightly closer. You might as well have poked him with a hot fire pick, because he overreacted. His whole body flinched. The kid recoiled like it was his fault, and he pulled his hands up to his chest. He kept them so close, you’d think he was trying to protect his heart.

He didn’t know the feeling. Something worse than feeling empty inside started festering behind his ribcage. It was messing with his breathing, like it infected his lungs. He almost wished he could cut himself open and pull it out with his bare hands.

“No just…just stay here. I’ll be back.”

Obedient, stupid kid watched him the whole time, standing there in the middle of the room like he wanted to reach out towards him. The door shut, and the kid was gone from direct view, but there were eyes everywhere. He could see him fidget, make like he was going to go after him, then freeze. He knew something was wrong. He knew it.

“Mr. Vox, sir? Any specific instructions for your men?” His assistant asked. How could she act so calm? Did she not see the kid? Did she not care?

For once, she was dressed appropriately, or what amounted to appropriate. Sure, her heels were a little high, and her eyes batted a little too invitingly, but it all seemed to be covered in haze. Like there was privacy glass drawn across his eyes. It was all too fuzzy, even for him to be annoyed.

“They stop the second he says he’ll sign.” He said, not trusting himself to say too much. “If they lay a finger on him after he says it, they will wish they were dead. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” She said with a nod. She talked into her headset, instructing a unit to get ready. Inside, the kid’s patience wore out. His worry made him grab for the door, only to realize it was locked. He started tugging, fighting with the lock. It didn’t budge.

He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t stand here. He’s not sure he’d physically be able to stand aside if he was here.

“Sir?”

“Keep me posted.” With that, he floored it back to his monitors, back to his distractions. Except, when he got there, he was reminded that he was never truly turned off from the rest of it. It didn’t have to be on screen. He could see the kid freaking out on camera, banging on the door. He even called his name. No response, obviously.

Outside, his grunts gathered. He’d not really been too keen on picking anyone out specifically. He’d just told his attendant to put together a scary group of thugs, dogs that looked mean enough for whatever needed to be done. He’d called it throwing him to the wolves. It felt so literal now. The smallest mutt there could fit the kid’s head in his jaws. Their teeth were bigger than his fingers and sharp. Canine teeth were meant to grasp, shred, and tear the flesh. The kid had them too, but his were so small. He’s not sure he’d break skin if he tried.

The kid abandoned the door for the camera. He shoved over a chair and climbed up to it. Voice panicked, he still kept asking for him. He’s never had such a close-up view of his eyes before, splintered green irises surrounding those oversized pupils. Green was a rarer color down here, because green was the color of the world above. Unless it was money green or emerald green, it didn’t belong down here. Unless there was some monetary tie to it, it shouldn’t be green.

There was an iridescence to his eyes that you didn’t see unless you were this close. It was delicate, the only things his database could compare it to were hummingbird feathers or a butterflying’s wing. They were small and frail things, things that were easy to break.

“Can you hear me? The door is locked.” He said.

Vox didn’t answer. How could he?

Oh, Vox. What did you do?

You did what you had to do.

Really? You had to do this?

The wolves hyped themselves up. They caught the scent of fox, apparently. Some of them started to drool. The kid cupped the camera still trying for a response. He was wasting his time.

He didn’t want to watch this.

You did this. You better watch it. Suck it up.

“Shut up.” He hissed.

Why? Too afraid to look in the mirror?

Red eyes blared back at him, teasing him. He wanted to strangle the life out of them. His hands tremored, fighting against his instinct to do just that.

The world is a stage, Vox.

They laughed like hyenas right before the lunge. The kid abandoned the camera for the table. A knock on the wood was loud, vibrating plenty to hear. Then, a series of taps: Loxley to Bogie. Come in, Bogie! Signs are reading Red! Emergency, respond!

He didn’t answer.

And the stage is a world of entertainment.

His assistant pulled out her cardkey, and an electronic beep opened the lock. The kid was already in the corner of the room. He was still tapping, though on the walls. His back was to the tank glass, projecting a shadow over his face. Over and over, it was more of the same: Come in, Bogie! Respond! Bogie!

Then, after a moment, it got more desperate. The taps were faster, its message simple and shaking him to his core: Vox, where are you?

Isn’t this so much fun?

“Shut up!” He screamed.

He dragged his hand back and punched a hole through his main monitor. Pieces of it got stuck in his hands, turning them red. His claws dug and ripped the cables from the back of his head. Live wires sparked in protest and his system’s redundancies kicked in. In his head, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The feed wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t escape it. It danced even behind his closed eyes: teeth bared and the doors swinging open.

Make it stop! It had to stop! He didn’t want to watch this!

He screamed again, though it sounded more like it came from everywhere but his own throat. Lightning sprang up in bolts and flooded the room. Safety measures failed. The insulators were exhausted. The system overloaded. Too much went into it, and it couldn’t take it anymore. Everything around him sizzled and shuddered out. The lights shattered, glass falling down from above. The screens around him dropped like dominoes, each successive one glitching out and going dark. The cameras hung down, as if tired from holding their heads up, the little red lights of recording fading. Without Voxtek maintaining it, the internet shut down. Hell, the city could’ve gone dark for all he knew. Vee tower itself blacked out.

And it was finally quiet.

He leaned back in his chair, catching his breath.

Coward.

It was gone now. He couldn’t see the footage. So why was it still playing in his head? Things that he never saw happen plagued him still. His own mind was fighting now, replaying events from a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, right? He never saw it happen.

That didn’t make it any less real. Right now, the kid was screaming, flailing, kicking, and, worst of all, probably still under some misguided idea that he was going to show up and put a stop to it.

Maybe…maybe he could do a hard reboot. Just turn his fucking brain off for a couple of hours.

Emergency power restarted the system. It was an added thing, a necessary extra, once Vox realized that an over surge could take out the city’s system. Whether because he just lost it, or because Alastor messed with it, Vox had been unwilling to take the chance of everything being down for too long. Especially because Alastor was back.

The Wi-Fi sprung back first. Velvette had insisted on that being among the first things. Yeah, it might seem dumb for that to be among them. Why not the security? Honestly, she made a good case for it at the time. No one could beat them while they were together. They were the Vees. When they worked as a unit, no overlord in hell stood even a sliver of a chance in that fight. If the tower went down, then something was wrong with Vox, obviously. Therefore, it was in the best interest of the other two to know where he was and possibly get in contact with each other. In the worst case, they could track each other down to the exact location. Yeah, of course he had tracers on them all. And yes, it came quite in handy when Val got drunk and lost.

Either way, the idea was if the Wi-Fi was back on, then they would know where the others were, if they were okay…and, though never explicitly said, if Vox was dead. His signal wasn’t programed into a phone. His was in his head. If he wasn’t transmitting after a surge…he was dead. Simple as that.

He was tempted to turn his locator off though, just this once. He just…couldn’t handle reining them in right now. He couldn’t juggle Velvette screaming about her blog and how Vox nearly ruined it with an outburst alongside Valentino throwing a hissy fit because the lights turned off and he couldn’t see a damn thing.

All of that on top of having to negotiate terms with the kid, between tears, a torn up face, and god knows what else.

He put his head in his hands and leaned forward. God, he didn’t want to handle this.

The security measures jumped on afterwards, emergency lighting and all that. The automated doors clicked ready for use. The safety shutdown system stood at attention. That one was used more for angel attacks than anything else. Obviously, they had little use for it recently.

A ring sounded. His assistant was calling. The cameras weren’t up yet, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was calling. Come on, Vox. You’re on air. The audience is waiting.

He answered.

“Yes?”

“S-sir! I-I-I am so s-sorry!” She was sobbing, flipping out. Half of what she said wasn’t understandable. The other half was making Vox sit straight up.

“What happened?”

“I-I-I was d-doing a-as you asked and w-when we walked i-into the room…S-sir, y-you have to understand, it wasn’t my fault!”

A horrifying dread clawed his throat open.

“The kid. What-?”

She talked over him. Something was very wrong for her to do that.

“B-but then the p-power w-went o-out and I d-didn’t see it and-”

“What happened?” He yelled, feeling like he was burning out his speakers when he said it. They’ve already had a trying day. Hell, his fans were working so hard that he could hardly hear anymore.

“The c-child, h-h-he’s, I-I couldn’t tell with the lights out, s-sir and-”

Dead, his imagination filled it out for him. The kid was dead.

He risked combusting right then and there. His body was ready to tear itself to pieces, to turn into banded bright fury and collapse on those fucking dogs. He’d fire off every receptor of pain. He’d rewire the circuits in their heads, ripping pathways open by searing heat. He’d have them screaming, begging for death, and having them completely unable to move. For the rest of fucking existence, they’d be nothing but screaming inside of their own heads, for murdering that kid.

But…but that wasn’t the truth, was it?

He did that. He let them do that. He told them to.

That stupid, useless kid trusted him. Up until the very end.

And Vox had him killed.

“I-I’m sure h-he hasn’t gotten far, s-sir.” She stammered.

Wait. The cavity that craved its way into his chest suddenly felt a little less empty. Now, fear was crawling inside it.

“…you lost him?”

“Y-yes, s-sir. When the power when out, h-he…what I mean t-to say is, um-”

“There’s nothing in that room.”

“S-sir?”

“That room. There’s nothing in there but a table and some chairs.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“There’s only one exit. One. Which had you and ten giant fucking dogs in the way.”

“Y-yes, sir.” She confirmed.

“And you mean to tell me that he’s gone?”

Alastor. His shadow could do that, drag someone from the darkness like that. It’s also usually not too far from its owner.

Vox enacted the security shutdown right then. All around, titanium screens closed shut around the windows. The vents were sealed and pressurized, making a whisper of rushing wind around the tower. Interior lighting didn’t quite go back to normal, but the emergency bulbs replaced their broken counterparts. Any and all exposed areas had nets over nets filing in, until filled with a metal cover that would survive a nuke. He’d know. He tested it.

Areas inside the tower started sectioning off themselves. It was another feature, meant to keep everyone who wasn’t a Vee in their rooms. They didn’t need the chaos from a running, panicking crowd. Val’s studio, with mostly editing employees there today since Val was still in his room, closed up. The windows barricaded themselves. Fibers of angelic steel morphed into the framework, giving the shutters a glistening look. Similarly, Vel’s pad locked tight. Since hers was more interior to the tower, the elevators plunging down into default mode in the basement was much more noticeable. It probably looked and felt like a deranged carnival ride, not that Vox has given it a go. The lifts themselves had specialized locks on both the interior and exterior entrance doors to the different floors. You’d have better luck trying to break into a military hanger than crawling up the levels of Vee tower.

Nothing short of Lucifer himself was going to get through all of that.

Slowly, the cameras started blinking back on. Val was pacing the room, a strong drink in his hand. His bot was there too, carrying around a tray for him to put it down on. He didn’t. In fact, it looked like he couldn’t decide if he was going to drown or smoking himself to death first, given that Vox has only just gotten access to the room and he’s seen Val puff through two cigarettes already.

No sign of the kid.

Val noticed the camera on. Nerves were replaced by ire in an instant.

“Vox, what the fuck?”

Vel’s pad came on next. Her designers had taken cover. It looked like her lighting suffered worse than Val’s. The overheads that were still in one piece flicked menacingly. Vel herself was yelling orders, keeping her employees’ attention on anything else but what was going on.

“Elisa, stop being a bitch and get those fabrics away from there! Do you know how much they’d cost to replace? And Beatrice, who the fuck told you to hide under the table? You think a fucking table is going to keep you safe from me?”

She, like Val, noticed the camera about then. She didn’t yell, but she did start texting him a stream of insults, arguments, and, once, asking if he was okay.

The kid wasn’t here either.

The anxiety kept rising in him. The cameras would only turn on so quickly, only after they had time to run diagnostics and reboot. Every time a new view showed up, it felt like a small victory, only to quickly drag him further into alarm. Because every single time, the kid wasn’t there.

Alastor grabbed him. It was the only thing that made sense. Alastor was hiding somewhere in the building and he grabbed the kid. Imaginary red eyes started teasing him in the peripheral of his vision, just where monsters liked to hide. It was right where a glance would make them disappear, and to take your eyes completely away was akin to giving up the ghost.

His assistant was taking those dogs around now, trying to sniff out the scent. Unfortunately, they seemed to hit a roadblock. According to all the yelling, the scent was coming from everywhere. Which is impossible. Unless a shadow demon grabbed you and raced across the wall, he imagines. That would do it.

His phone was blowing up. Val and Vel were losing it in the group chat. Mostly yelling. But his nerves were so frayed they were sparking at the ends. He did text back though.

Alastor grabbed the kid.

Silence.

He’s in the building and he grabbed the kid, he clarified.

You saw that? Valentino asked. How the fuck did he get in here?

I don’t know. I didn’t see him. He answered.

Vox, are you sure? Vel added.

He was in the conference room, Vel. Now he’s gone. There’s no other way he could’ve gotten out.

Just then, the nightmare crawled out from where it was hiding. Around his room, he could hear metal grating, something knocking about in the walls. It sounded like something with claws was reaching out toward him, an echo vibrating through the whole room. His sharks could feel the vibration, and they scattered at the noise.

He’s here.

Vee, what are you talking about?

He’s in here with me.

Vox! Open the fucking doors! He could see Val chewing his tobacco stick right through. His wings puffed out as he tried to break down the lift doors.

Vee, I’m right downstairs! But I can’t get out unless you unlock the pad doors! Velvette pulled off her heels and smashed the hinges right off the first set of doors with the spike.

The clawing sound got closer and closer. He still couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Here, in his own throne room, where the seat of his media empire sat, he was blind. And alone.

But he was not going down without a fight.

A vent cover popped off, right there, next to the door. It was an exhaust vent, one of the ones he uses to make sure this room stays cool. The opening was small, hardly enough for a rat to crawl through. Or so he’d thought. No sooner had it flung off than two stupidly large ears popped out from the opening. In the dark, his eyes seemed to glow, like all nocturnal animals did. He was covered in dust, some cobwebs, and his hair was frayed like he got into a fight with a hairdryer.

Abject panic was strewn across his face, and the second he made eye contact with Vox, he burst into tears.

“You’re alive!” He screamed, squirming the rest of himself out from there and booking it towards him. Vox hadn’t had time for anything to start making sense, and the kid had already grabbed him in a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that!”

How? Just…just how?

“You…you thought something happened to me?” His mouth ran ahead of his brain.

“Of course I did! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” The kid protested. “You were all sorts of upset when you left! Then the door locked. Then, you didn’t answer when I called you! And then the tower blacked out! And then the whole place locked down like it was Alcatraz or something!”

The kid’s voice curled off, broken and weeping.

“I thought…I thought…” He couldn’t even finish what he wanted to say, like it was too horrible to put into words.

Stop it. This needed to stop, right now.

“No one can kill me!” He snapped. He grabbed the kid by the lapels. “You understand me? I will never be in trouble because there’s not a goddamn person down here that’s stupid enough to try it. I would crush them all, understand?”

The kid didn’t even care that Vox’s nails had ripped through the collar of his shirt. His face immediately went to the destruction around that Vox himself caused.

“Then, why-?”

“I locked you in the room!” The truth came pouring out. Like the dam was too full and just flooded. “I sent my men down there to make you sign the damn contract!”

He held the kid off the ground with one hand, his other grasped the air. A written form appeared from thin air, a paper with long words and airtight language, not unlike the contracts he had with his other employees. At the bottom, there were two signatures required on dotted lines. His own was already filled out. The other was just waiting.

He sat the kid down in his chair, slamming the contract in front of him. A pen materialized from nowhere, its ink strangely filling the room with a coppery smell.

“Sign. It.” He was livid. He never knew he could get this mad.

And the kid still had audacity to have water streaking down his face from before. He looked down at it though, apparently reading it. As if he could understand that. Even his lawyers hardly understood-

“I can’t sign it.”

“You’re going to sign it, or I swear to god-”

“Vox, even if I wanted to, I can’t.” He pointed to a paragraph, a stupid couple of lines detailing how Vox had the right to every and all communications among other things. It was basically just them waiving their rights to privacy, which, well, wasn’t too different from what Vox usually did anyways. None of them even looked twice at it.

“What? Something you don’t want me to see? You know I see everything, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it violates my NDA, so I can’t.”

The whiplash was jarring. It hurt his head to try to wrap his mind around that little tidbit. How does a kid even know what an NDA is? Much less, how does a kid sign an NDA? Who makes a kid sign an NDA?

“NDA? You have an NDA? I thought you said you still owned your soul?”

“I do. I still work.” He said, like it was obvious. “My boss is very particular about his privacy.”

He knew the kid drove a car, a fancy car. He assumed he worked as part of a service, just one cog in the machine. He was just starting to realize that the ‘boss’ wasn’t the guy in charge of a limo service.

“Who’s your boss?”

“Um. I did just say I have an NDA. I can’t tell you who my boss is. Look, I’ll prove it. My boss’s name is-” His mouth moved but no sound came out. He just gave Vox a shrug. “See? Can’t say it.”

“But you still own your soul?”

“’Course. It’s a standard employee contract. I get paid every week for, ‘services rendered’. It’s basically just a fancy way of saying I drive my boss around in the car. There are the little additives he put on it, just to make sure stuff doesn’t go wrong. Like the ‘no saying the name’ thing. And the ‘mind control’ thing, that too.”

“…what ‘mind control’ thing?”

“I dunno. Some kind of spell. Makes it so I can’t get mind controlled, I guess, so he can protect his secrets. Your hypno eye still gives me a headache though.”

Was he serious? He can’t be serious. This whole time, Vox’s suggestions haven’t and didn’t work? The most he accomplished was making him want an Advil?

“That’s…that’s some NDA.” Who was strong enough to even do that? Vox didn’t even know you could do that. Oh, this was a grapevine he was going have to follow to its source. This could seriously mess his plans up later. “And your boss he…he really doesn’t want people to know where he goes and who he talks to?”

That’s something either the paranoid or the scheming get up to down here. Either one with that much power was a concern, to say the least. An overlord, perhaps? Off the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t think of any that was in close connection to the kid. Then again, now that he’s relooking the footage, he…can’t see anyone in the car. He doesn’t see anyone get out of the car either. All he sees is the kid driving around and, occasionally, opening and closing the door like he was escorting ghosts. This wasn’t like Alastor’s distortion, where he knew he was there, he just couldn’t see the whole picture. This was something else entirely.

“Like I said, he likes his privacy. Can you let go now?” He asked, nonchalant.

Vox had the contract disappear, but questions still lingered. He still caged him in the chair.

“Why aren’t you mad at me? I was going to feed you to my dogs. How the hell did you even get out of there?”

“Um, first, who says I’m not mad? Don’t feed your friends to dogs. Second, I climbed up the vent. I thought that was obvious.”

There was a vent in there, as he said, to keep the computers running well. That would also explain why the dogs couldn’t track him down. If he was in the vent when the shutdown happened, an air current would’ve pushed the scent across every room interconnected with the one he was in. While he’s a little surprised the kid himself wasn’t pushed out, he can’t say the system was ever meant to force something as big as a child with the power of air alone.

“You don’t sound mad.” He commented.

“To be honest, I’m just glad you’re alive. You really scared me.”

With that, Vox had enough data. Calculations spat out conclusions slowly. His supercomputer brain was just a fumbled mess right now from the emotional rollercoaster. But, it came up with a few things. One, he was never going to get the kid under contract. Two, there was very little he could do to make the kid hate him now. Three, he’s too attached to the fuzzball to want to make him hate him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Odds are, he was talking to himself as much as the kid.

“You’ve told me.” He nodded.

The room tremored like a hellquake was happening. The doors to his room were pried apart by giant nails. The four bedazzled guns of Valentino bounced the light from the screens around, making the place shine like a disco. The moth himself spewed smoke in like a factory, poison dripping from elongated fangs. His wings were spread out, an almost eye like pattern piercing out from the scaling. He only got scarier as his true demon form started ripping out from his body. It was a demented, twisted version of an emerging from a cocoon, as if Val’s body was just barely holding back an even more terrifying beast underneath. He’s seen Val molt before. Had he not seen that, he might’ve assumed that Val was secretly a fucking alien emerging like that.

He pointed the guns about, at every shadow hiding around the room.

“Hands off my fucking man, you son of a bitch!”

“Val-”

The sound of porcelain grating against itself put him to pause. From the plummeting depths of the room, Vel crawled her way up the monitor’s island. Her face looked like cracks against a glass plate. Inky blackness trailed those lines and dripped from her eyes and mouth. He was reminded of the story of Bloody Mary, a spooky tale for children, where the ghost emerged if you said her name too much while looking at a mirror. This too he’s seen before, but to date he can name the number of times on one hand. Still surprised him, every time.

“I’ll tear you apart! You hear that fossil? Don’t you fucking dare touch my boys!”

The kid and him shared a look as his fellow Vees came charging in, guns literally blazing, ready for a fight.

A grin spread across the kid’s muzzle.

“‘I don’t have friends’, he says.” His voice made a sound like an imitation of Vox’s voice, if Vox had swallowed a squeaker. He kept teasing. “‘It’s different with Val and Vel’, he says.”

“Kid-”

“Let me guess. Shut up?”

“Exactly.”

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

[nonsubstantial]

APRIL 2024 ART FASCINATION DIARY

This is another post about the art that I've been fascinated with this year. I make these posts monthly, so that I can look back and remember all the things that were keeping me happy and inspired! If you are reading this, then I hope it will be somewhat interesting to hear about. First, a collage of my interests this month, then there are descriptions below.

MUSIC / ALBUM I heard about Everything Harmony by The Lemon Twigs because Vinny Vinesauce liked it enough to feature it on his twitch channel four times within this last month. After checking it out, it quickly became a favorite of mine as well. It's inspired by 60's era rock bands like The Beach Boys and The Beatles, and the two brothers in charge of The Lemon Twigs were basically raised from birth to create this kind of music. They're excellent musicians, but I do have a few complaints, mainly that their band is a four person group that started as a two person group, and it shows. The musicians on their drums and backing guitar are unnoticeable most of the time, or even make their music worse when I really focus on the boring repetitive parts that they play in the mix. I think that it would improve things if we heard the other two members’ creativity shine a little more. On a different note, their lyrics also feel kind of hollow to me, sort of like facsimiles of themes that we heard out of the 60’s pop music that they’re inspired by. Maybe the brothers’ odd upbringing is what makes their lyrics feel like nothing more than dreamy imitations of other lyrics, rather than being something written from their own hearts? In any case, their vibe is really bizarre, but despite all my criticisms I did really enjoy this one album from them. (And actually, their new 2024 album is already out! It’s also fantastic, and I’ll talk about it on my May list.)

FANFIC / CREATIVE WRITING I've been working on a long fanfic for fun since last month, and every time I write a new scene for it I'm filled with a sense of creative euphoria for the rest of the day. It's not always perfect, but there's no real pressure to write something good, so it just ends up being an enjoyable outlet for my passions. Even if I never publish anything, being creative and exploring my own imagination is satisfying in itself, and I wish I had the time to do it every day! (HONESTLY, there could and should be time, if only our society actually prioritized taking breaks for mental health and personal wellbeing over making endless amounts of money and increasingly insubstantial products to be consumed by only the luckiest members of our parasitic upper class. I hate our unsympathetic workaholic capitalist culture with every fiber of my being, and wish that I could fucking end it all, but I digress...) Writing is just so fun. And I'll be working on the same projects for another few months, probably, as long as I can keep on keeping up with them.

REALITY GAME SHOW The finale of RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 16 concluded this month, and I thought it was absolutely fantastic. Now that it’s over, we’re starting back from season 1 and we’re going to try to eventually watch it all! (We actually did finish season 1, right before posting this. It was interesting and groundbreaking in its own right, and it introduced me to Tammie Brown, who is now one of my favorite queens. Then, we started season 2 and I’m pretty sure that this is where the show’s bad reputation got its start, because I really can’t stand any of the season 2 contestants. Too bad, but we’ll keep on watching and see how it pans out anyway.) In season 16 though, there was just so much unique creativity and talent on display, and so many jaw dropping ‘holy shit’ moments, that I think it was one of the best things I have ever watched. It had the hypest final lip sync battle I ever could have imagined, and I had no idea which way it was going to end. In whole, I feel like the show was a wonderful watch, and I’m glad that our friends convinced us to give it a shot.

LIVE THEATER MUSICAL My partner and I were given a gift card to our local theater last year, so we finally used it to go see a live production of Annie! We don't live in a place where live musicals are very common, and I actually hadn’t seen any since highschool, so we had to make plans very early in the year to go watch it. And after having done so, I can say for certain that there is a unique magic to watching a live theater performance. I’m surprised that it was all performed so perfectly, even with children and a dog on stage, and remarkably, it sounded better than any recording I could find online before or after the event. It was so incredible all around that it totally transported me into a unique creative headspace. There were people of all ages there, some dressed up, some appearing more casual, but the atmosphere was delightful and jovial all around. I’m not going to comment about what was or wasn’t problematic about Annie; it’s not really that deep and you can probably figure that out on your own. But I will say that the magic of a live performance depends entirely on the energy in its room, and I was totally swept away by this experience. Without the discount, it would have been very pricey though, so I’m hoping that we can put away a little money to see a different live musical next year.

BOOK / AUDIOBOOK About a month and a half ago, I started Leo Tolstoy's epic work of historical fiction, War And Peace. I love a book that I can get completely lost in, and War and Peace is one of those books. I made it about 1/4th of the way through it this month, and even though it started slow, I’m now sure that it’s going to be an all time favorite. I read Anna Karenina years ago, and thoroughly enjoyed it, so I expected to like this one too, but there was still a sort of learning curve to overcome at the start. After over a month of engaging with it, I feel like I’ve finally gotten over its barrier to entry, and now I’m picking up the pace. Most people have heard of this book before, so let me tell you that its high-sounding title is no false advertisement. It’s a Russian slice of life book set during the Napoleonic Wars, dealing with a huge assemblage of political and philosophical conflicts, and it will have you exasperatedly crying “time is a flat circle!” as you realize that humans today have nearly the same brains and political interests that they had over 200 years ago. It is already a masterpiece, in my opinion, and I’m going to be reading this book for the entire month of May also, so that’s something to look forward to. If you’re interested in checking out an audiobook, I’m also listening to the Maude translation, narrated by Neville Jason, and I think it’s quite good! (That's it for April! But we're already a few weeks into May, so expect more Lemon Twigs and more War And Peace. Thank you for caring about me, and I hope you have a good day! ♡)

[mcrmadness]

Youtube keeps putting so much Harry Potter related videos to my recommended. Any official ones are easy to click off, but what I do not comperehend is that how there can still be so many Youtubers out there who keep creating so many videos about HP. The videos often focus on buying official products, and it's just... don't people really know what JKR has become, or is it that they just simply don't care?

Occasionally I have seen HP themed videos from my favourite youtubers too, them mentioning stuff, but I genuinely think they just are not aware, and I don't know how to make them aware. Usually the comment sections on any video ever are already toxic enough and if you go there with any "woke shit", you will get nothing but messages after messages of people being assholes towards you just because you dared to mention that this is in a way supporting a person who is not very nice anymore. Could be that the creators themselves would take such comments well, but other people? Especially in my country, I already get hate from people for speaking in my dialect because they think I'm an immigrant, or that I must be a very young kid on the internet. I have faced both racist and 'and your age was..?' type of comments just for commenting something normal. I can't even imagine what kind of a shitshow it would become if I went there and said that hey, you're low-key supporting a transphobe even if you didn't mean to do so.

Today my youtube recommended has exploded again. So. fucking. much. HP. content. I always click them away and choose the "not interested" or "don't recommend this channel to me", and it works for a little while, and soon they will be back again. Or there will be other HP themed videos, from youtubers whose whole channel is dedicated to HP videos. And we get back to my original question: are they not aware, or don't they just care?

[catchyhuh]

If each of them would ever have YouTube / Tik Tok account... What would their content be?

i tried so hard to really and truly answer this but i just kept thinknf of this throughout

lupin: started as a joke but he IS having fun with it. he’s mostly just fucking around there’s like NO production quality there it’s just. viddy oe. and thats the case whether its youtube OR tiktok, either way it’s going to be quick cutesy spur of the moment junk. if he ever really went all out, he might make some kinda digital calling card (he has made video cards before to inform his targets he’s about to rob their asses lmao) but it’d be some stupid hilarious shit. like imagine those video wedding/graduation invitations with the poorly animated stock resources and generic acoustic guitar music. text slides in that says “i want that statue dumbass” (cymbal fade sfx) “so yeah i’ll be taking that” (dramatic text pan) “seeya thursday, can’t wait :)”

jigen: no profile pic no real username. just like jigen76943 with the blue j icon. NO tiktok. NO tiktok for our guy. insists lupin shouldn’t be using tiktok either as its shortening his already horrible attention span. jigen doesn’t really post videos too much, but if he does it must be something very important to him, really only uploaded so he doesn’t lose it. there’s a handful of videos from some of their vacations (whether its an intended vacation or just ‘oh shit we’re in spain. we should have fun with this’ type deal) but it’s almost all privated. he’s not really showy about stuff like that

fujiko: she had a momentary lapse of judgment when making it, because she thought, easy way to sucker in idiots and make some money off that ad revenue. but also… do you REEEALLY want the world knowing exactly where you are, what you’re doing, at any given moment? well. no. but if you heavily screen every tiny fraction of your video before even THINKING of posting it, maybe nobody will be able to tell you’re literally sitting inside the taj mahal. posted a makeup tutorial once while she was already wearing a full face of less obvious makeup just because it was funny to her to see comments insisting she was so much prettier “without makeup.” so yeah like everything else in her life she’s found a way to rig this for money and her own personal entertainment

goemon: Nay. you know i don’t personally subscribe to the “goemon cant understand ANY technology he’s so archaic teehee” philosophy, but this ain’t even about that, it’s about the fact that goemon is the only one who’s initial reaction was “you want me, a wanted criminal, tagging the people i have been around and locations i have been to? for ‘clout’????” at best he just uses jigen’s phone to watch random stuff that interests him, and like, he’s not PHYSICALLY RECOILING when fujiko tries to show him a funny tiktok, he enjoys the fun of it. but he’s not making one, and if he has anything to say about it, he will not be featured in lupin’s bullshit

zenigata: doesn’t even have his own. he’s like a background feature when (SURPRISE YATA SNEAK ATTACK) yata posts. yata will be like “wow the louvre!!! look!” and take a lil video and zenigata’s just in the background looking bored out of his mind. in the louvre. he’d never BULLY zeni into participating, but once yata becomes aware of the fact people are playing where’s waldo with his stuff, he might try to have fun with it. q&a with the inspector. share some life advice with the audience. and the whole time zenigata’s like “um. uh. don’t break the… law?” and the commenters eat it UP. zenigata thinks its stupid but he tells yata he’s doing it because yata enjoys it, and that's it. however secretly you know he’d fucking love the attention

so final verdict: unfortunately i believe all of these people would be baffled and horrified if i explained how many times i've rewatched defunctland's disney channel theme video in full. but they could have a little fun with it

[lcnelypainter]

( mason gooding, cis male, he/him ) have you met Chester D'Aramitz yet? you know, the 23 year old undergraduate student. i think they’re a senior majoring in art. ring a bell yet? every time i walk past their dorm i hear am i dreaming by metro boomin blasting through the door. everyone who meets them say they’re golden-hearted but can also be a little blundering. guess when you meet them you’ll figure that out yourself.

sports/clubs: ice hockey (center), art & media club, lgbt+ club

Brief Biography:

Chester D'Aramitz was born in Martinique, one of the larger islands of the Lesser Antilles in the Caribbean Sea. His mother had lived there for most of her childhood, before spending some of her adult life in France (though technically, Martinique is still a Departement of France) where she met Kristopher D'Aramitz, a baker. While it may seem a humble occupation, Kristopher took the craft very seriously, having been a baker's apprentice for many years. The two married and moved to Martinique, where Kristopher started his very first, very own boulangerie.

Chester was born five years into their marriage, and when he was only four years old, the family packed their bags and made the drastic decision to move to Montreal, in Quebec, Canada. Marie-Josephine had some family there already, who had offered to help watch Chester while she attended classes at a local college. It took a while, but Kristopher managed to open a new boulangerie, which over time knew great success. In effect, Kristopher became, in addition to being a baker, a veritable business-man, as well.

The move occurred during a crucial period of childhood development for Chester. The instability was expounded upon by his mother and father's respective self-improvement pursuits. His mother and aunt thought it would be beneficial to find an activity for Chester-- a way for him to make friends, occupy his time, and perhaps even channel any negative feelings into something productive. So, he began ice skating lessons.

Skating lessons were expensive. They kept the cost down by only sending D'Aramitz to group classes and opting out of private lessons. Kristopher worked hard to make his business a success. Marie-Josephine studied hard at school. And Chester began to carve his life into the ice.

After a while, it became evident that skating wasn't a temporary thing, but rather a major investment. Uninterested in other ice-based sports, Chester joined a peewee hockey team. During the small mock-tournaments that the club put on for the younger students, it was clear that Chester (or Chess, as his teammates began to call him, because that's how they said he played the rink-- like a Chess board) was an up-and-coming force to be reckoned with. The older and better that Chester got, the more costs mounted. Between private lessons, club dues, equipment, clothes, and tournaments, Kristopher basically had no choice but to expand his baking business by opening more stores to fund it all.

Chester fell in love with the sport more than anything, and he knew, given that his other club members were considerably more well-off than his own family, the only way that he could convince his parents to allow him to stay in the club was to be better than everyone else. For Chester, being in the rink was like being on another planet; All the worries, all the oddities of being in a weird place, having to put up with being picked on by his older cousins, all of that faded into nothing. On the court, it was just him. Hockey was like the Way, or the Tao, for Chester, he just existed in the rink.

Chester became good friends with the other kids in the club, as his parents had hoped. Of course, it was easy to think, from his perspective, that everything was fine; How could he, at that age, empathize or imagine that anyone would be jealous of him? Or even resentful toward him? Being at the top of the pack meant that Chester was somewhat blind to the negative attitudes that some may hold.

Things really took off when Chess hit high school age. Chester maintained a steady C average, spending most of his time absorbed in hockey, though he tended to coast through on his sheer talent. At this point, he would travel for tournaments and return with sparkling trophies under his arm. However, despite having many shallow acquaintances, he felt very alone. He found solace in another hidden talent of his: art. Chester documented almost his entire youth through sketching it into graphic novel panels.

One year, after taking home the championship trophy, Chess was scouted and invited to come to the United States to try out a club league in Minnesota. The best academy for up-and-coming hockey champions, they said. His parents were skeptical, but agreed. In the end, Chess hated it; for the first time, he was being challenged at a level that he wasn't sure he was ready for, and all of his peers, rather than just a select few, were competitive, arrogant, and blood-thirsty.

According to Junior Rankings, Chester was one of the best players in Canada, by the end of his High School years. It remained to be seen, except for his stint in Minnesota, how Chess stacked up to international players. This would change when Chester accepted admission to Radcliffe. His first year as a University D-1 athlete was an absolute polar plunge of a wake up call. Hard work triumphs over talent, and Chess realized he would need to focus more than ever on the sport if he had any chance of turning pro, which is what he wants most in the world.

Quick Facts:

Nicknames: Chess

Sexuality: Bisexual, biromantic

Nationality/Ethnicity: French/French Canadian, Mixed-race

Languages spoken: French, English

Star Sign: Leo

Stature: 6'3", athletic, less than sure-footed off the ice

Tattoos/Identifiable marks: None

Allergies/Ailments: Shellfish allergy

Occupation: Student athlete

Personality: Very easy-going, and a loyal friend, though can also be full of himself and over-confident. Those who don't mind having their ear talked-off would probably get along with him well, and if one could see past the brazen and shameless exterior, one would understand that Chess seeks desperately the same kind of understanding from others that he affords to just about anyone.

Pets: None (no time to take care of them).

Likes: Hockey, running, dancing, music, poetry

Dislikes: Heat and humidity, unwarranted hostility, sitting still, and shrimp

[t1meslayer]

It's peanut butter jelly T1me!

... Alright, now @alchemicallymoon doesn't have to call the authorities.

You know the drill — go check out my latest Dungeon Meshi fanfic, "Peanut Butter & Jelly." Then click that button down below to read my completely overindulgent author's commentary!

Dungeon Meshi... Ah, Dungeon Meshi.

I wrote my first DunMeshi fic "Scrambled Eggs" when Trigger's anime was beginning to air. Maybe this was a silly idea given it's a post-canon event, thus alienating the people who might've been curious to join community spaces after watching the first couple of episodes. However, I read through everything before the anime started on the recommendation of friends (including my collaborating body of spiders @trybard) and fell deeply in love.

No joke, some things in that story changed my life at the exact moment I needed it. I couldn't hold myself back when it came to appeasing the DunMeshi faithful among us.

And hey... It worked out! "Scrambled Eggs" became my most successful fic of all time, sitting at over 250 Kudos as of this writing.

I can't judge any fanfiction.net metrics because that site doesn't even have a Dungeon Meshi tag... But that's a whole other story.

That Farcille story was not the only idea I had logged in my Notes app, but needless to say that success did encourage me to continue sooner rather than later.

... Perhaps a little bit later following self-imposed hiatuses for my poll-winning Stardew Valley fic "How You Get The Girl" and the first part of my ambitious Pokemon Scarlet and Violet fic "Fallout." But I have also been doing some Meshi writing for the Dungeon Meshi Cookbook Zine?

That brings us to "Peanut Butter & Jelly." I believe it's mandated by law that all DunMeshi stories are named after a relevant food item or monster within their narrative.

In this case, the titular sandwich was my inciting incident. I've recently found myself working retail for the first time, stocking shelves at a major brand store. One day I was pushing merchandise on the aisle with peanut butters and jellies and thought, "Senshi would make a killer PB&J."

My first developmental task was deciding what kind of monster could be cooked into the sandwich. One early source I came across was a blog for fantasy author Alex Maven, in particular the article "TENDING A GARDEN OF TERROR: A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO PLANT MONSTERS IN 5E DND." This introduced the vegepygmy:

I haven't played much Dungeons & Dragons outside a "Gaming in American History" class during college, so I can't say I'm an expert in the subject. But I gathered through Maven's site and fandom projects like the Forgotten Realms Wiki that vegepygmies are forest-dwelling, humanoid rot creatures created by exposure to Russet mold spores who tend to use basic tools such as slings. They can drop skins upon death, which Maven describes as an item that "looks like a furry patch of mold. It has not much use to leatherworkers but can prove to be really useful to alchemists, healers, and medicinal experts."

A few details were simplified for my fanfiction (let's call those "creative liberties" ala Ryoko Kui's unique takes on classic monsters), but the gist still felt right: forest creatures using a weapon that fires small projectiles.

What better projectiles to find in a forest than hard-shelled nuts?

I imagined something like walnuts, but the semantics don't really matter. For the most part this was set-dressing to write a story in which the main party gets to interact, unlike my isolated Farcille piece. That's where this became a "lost chapter" set prior to the discovery of Thistle's home on the Dungeon's bottom floor.

I channeled my best Ryoko Kui absurdist cover art for the featured image, though using digital collage. Originally I planned to use full color, but a fun idea came later to desaturate things for more accurate manga sensibilities:

For comparison

The impetus to write this piece when I did was two-fold. On one hand, I had time to kill during production on "Fallout," and it only felt right to do a bit of extra prep for another Dungeon Meshi zine application I've had my eyes on.

On the other hand, I became obsessed with DunMeshi's second ED for a good while. Especially this frame with Kabru's party, and the implication that Rin is constantly on the verge of wiping her entire team on accident:

Kabru fic one day.

Later I became obsessed with DunMeshi's second OP. Long-time fans may remember when I had matching levels of anime opening brain rot for my Jujutsu Kaisen Satosugu fic "Infinitesimal Distance."

Obsession, it turns out, can be good for creating silly art.

I tend to give myself a challenge for each fanfic to help further my craft. This time, the challenge was to capture these wonderful characters in a way that matches the rhythms of the original series. I pulled from the styles of a few older pieces to differentiate stages in what Alchemically put as the manga's "kill-cook-eat" formula:

The brief Laios battle uses a Falin flashback ala the manga's Living Armor arc. I used text formatting and alternate tense to separate this moment as in my Splatoon fic "Yesterday is But Today's Memory." ... Also the action is almost directly lifted from my friend's Stardew Valley OC Lotus fighting a skeleton in "Willow."

I used a bit of funky text placement with sub- and superscript formatting to convey motion with details like Izutsumi's yawn in the post-battle cooldown period, like my ScarVi fic "Paradiso."

Senshi's cooking segment is vaguely reminiscent of the recipe at the start of my Breath of the Wild fic "Recipe to Please a Princess." I used blockquotes to convey Senshi instructions as "narration," interspersed with character reactions and interplay.

Finally, I discovered that you can set a "Heading 3" HTML format over empty text to create double-lined dividers. Thought that would be a fun way to present the final ingredients list (sans nutritional information - I'm barely qualified enough to write a recipe without looking up guides on how to make peanut butter and how to make jam).

Speaking of that splash screen... We should talk about the stand-out part of this fic.

My drawing!

That's right, I draw now. Expect to see a lot more funky stuff.

I took a figure drawing class hosted by one of my friends recently, which coincided with seeing fics written by lovely folks like @flutefemme and @duelbraids that utilized custom artwork. Extra special shout-outs to duelbraid's "Splatsville Daily's Concert Review" for inspiring this artwork insertion via a whole Getty Images pastiche.

Incredibly cool idea!

Go follow them. I'm not asking.

For my sandwich art, I looked at references for braided challah and whole grain breads (since I figured that was more natural for the setting than a "Wonder Bread" look), and drew those overtop the shape of stacked slices using real-life bread reference. The knife and plate are also based partially on utensils I used for reference.

My backdrop is simple, meant to look like the plate is atop a transition point between patches of tall grass and worn pathing in the forest clearing within which our scene is set.

Creating a recipe title card ala banners in Dungeon Meshi's anime (used to great effect with bits such as the dragon meat bundles rolling past Senshi) and an ingredient list ala the manga came later.

However, I do think it's fun that the titles look imposed over the food, rather than blending too much into the background.

===

Bonus content for those still reading along:

You can see me practicing bread on the opposite side of the page in this sketchbook. Plus, my "Fallout" teaser image is bleeding through.

===

In terms of actual writing quirks I'll be brief. My favorite part of this piece is the smaller arguments and references throughout.

Laios and Falin's childhood village having no magic uses, which means no ice cream [ :( ]. This points to the negative reactions people had when Falin discovered her own magical aptitude.

The introduction of Laios' party ending with Izutsumi just being. Izutsumi. I'd draw later attention to an "Izutsumi thinks about herself" joke with some fun gender(tm), but this early moment was meant to convey my intentions for capturing DunMeshi style.

Yes, Laios talking about using mold powers to regenerate limbs is a reference to Resident Evil Village. No, I have not played most Resident Evil games.

Chilchuck's laughter being stylized as "nahaha" draws a connection to Izutsumi's similarly smarmy sense of humor. It's also a reference to how PokeMas wrote Rika during a story event around the time I was writing this. I feel like those characters sound similar!

Marcille does ritualistic morning hair care. IYKYK.

Izutsumi flies across the sky like a startled cat in an old cartoon.

Chilchuck is tired of everyone using his lockpicking set for odd jobs like mimic meat retrieval and walnut cracking.

Laios wants to get Namari some slings to inspect!! I just think they were really chill buds, actually. He'd probably get her hyperfixations, even if he doesn't get armor.

Marcille's holier-than-thou speech about assuming there's some sexism in Senshi's Scooby-Doo party division is cut off by Chilchuck digging into the idea of the Canaries existing at all. What are they, some kinda Suicide Squad?

Izutsumi is always hesitant about their food. Luckily, this is perhaps the least monster-filled meal yet - unless you're Laios, using leftover Changeling sauce that was meant to be an ointment. He's a freak like that.

Food opinions: Senshi likes crunchy peanut butter. Marcille cuts the crusts off her sandwiches.

I actually presented a poll to my beta reader wondering whether Chilchuck or Izutsumi would chuckle first at Marcille using the term "nut butter." Izutsumi won handily.

Most divorced dad definitely made his daughters sandwiches. That's, like, the one real divorced dad meal I'd expect.

For those in the know on events in the manga, Laios noticing some droppings on the floor is a pretty solid indication of what story beat the gang is approaching within the fiction...

Finally, I know one of peoples' favorite parts about "Scrambled Eggs" was the sheer amount of food-related descriptors. I'm not sure I had quite as deft a hand this time around since most of my energy went toward dialogue interplay, but hopefully you still got your money's worth!!

[scientia-rex]

I need someone to write in detail about how the current flex culture is both similar to and different from the culture of, say, Victorian England. I understand, from reading many, many Victorian stories over the years, by which I mean stories written during the Victorian era, why displaying wealth was so critical. If you didn't display wealth, the general assumption would be that you didn't have it. You'd be less likely to get business or loans, less likely for family members to contract advantageous marriages, etc. So you paid for your daughter to wear a different gown every time she went out, and you paid for a fancy carriage, and you hosted dinners for people you didn't enjoy, and so on, because you quite literally had to. Sure, you could choose to retire to a country estate, but everyone would assume it was because you were broke. Right? Or am I SUPER wrong? I don't know! I'm not a historian!

But these days--like, look at the luxury jewelry market. There are so many options out there to spend 20 grand on a necklace, you could drown in them. Many of them are not branded, and many are also just not that interesting or distinctive. You cannot expect someone to read your wealth instantly the way they could when someone would assess in one glance: velvet? silk? or cotton? The color of dye is no longer legally regulated. I can wear Tyrian purple if I'm broke as shit. Gold-plated jewelry is visually indistinguishable from solid gold jewelry at a fraction of the cost. Good fakes of any imaginable high-end bag or shoe exist. Items, themselves, are no long inherently signifiers of wealth the way they were pre-industrialization, because we have reached a point where it is comparatively very easy to acquire things.

So what purpose is the designer jewelry serving now? And designer clothes? When I'm sure there are many, many items that rich men and women could not tell apart at a glance, and there is not (I'm sorry) some kind of magical quality differential that makes them recognizably high-end. (Watch the Tanner Leatherstein channel on YouTube to have your ideas about high-end leather products deconstructed before your eyes.)

Like, I'm sure some things operate exactly the same. I'm sure there's a narrow elite in Silicon Valley and I'm sure they recognize each other's wealth signifiers effortlessly. The same super-expensive "casual" sneakers and t-shirts. But what happens when those people end up at a party with Bostonian old money??? And that's just two of the ultra-rich possibilities out there! There are different signifiers for Indian families, and for Chinese families, and for Dubai oil money vs Brazilian vs English--like, any culture has their ultra-wealthy and the signifiers they use can be wildly different!

YouTube has a lot of videos about flex culture, but these all seem to focus on how detrimental it is. Which it is! It's terrible! Don't spend your money on a designer thing for being designer as if that's going to GET you something. It's not. Especially if you are not in the kind of circles where that type of wealth signifier is useful.

Anyway, if you know of any good explorations of this, let me know, because it has REALLY been on my mind lately. And with the COVID, I have nothing but time.*

*and body aches

[lacklusterhero747]

An Experiment in Guided Character Creation

Because of schedule changes with my work, and people being busy with life, I found it hard to keep up some of my local tabletop gaming opportunities. But I have also found that it gave me the option to do something nice for one of my coworkers.

Graciously, a friend of mine who's really never played D&D at all decided he wanted to start running a 5e game for me and several of our other coworkers, and with my sudden surplus of time, I offered to alternate games with him on Sunday nights after work so he could also have the chance to play, which of course he jumped at. So I polled the group and asked what they would want to play and they all selected Curse of Strahd.

A choice they may yet live to regret.

Regardless, since several of the players are relatively new, and the last time we made characters as a group for his game, I did a lot of the heavy lifting of helping everyone make their characters, I decided that for my game I would do a sort of guided, narrative infused character creation process, inspired by Adventurer's League packet for Ravenloft: Mist Hunters, going full production value on it with some excellent background music provided by the YouTube channel RPG Music Maker - Travis Savoie.

The process involved a series of read aloud sections designed in part to turn character creation into a sort of Bethesda RPG-esque (or maybe something more akin to Larian Studio's Baldur's Gate 3) character creation screen that could keep everyone working on the same steps at the same time, but also a method by which I could convey the tone of the world and genre that the players had chosen to exist in. I also featured a fair number of questions to prompt the players to think about their characterization in this process as well, hoping that I could urge them to create and deepen roleplaying hooks that would be useful in the game to come.

Though a lot of the text is lifted and adapted from the Mist Hunters packet, several of the questions I asked are purely my own, and I'm still proud of the results. The script I used follows:

You find yourself seated at a small table in a cramped, smoky teahouse. Thick, tallow candles shed dim light—the only light—throughout the room. An intricately patterned bone teacup and saucer is nestled atop a delicate lace doily. At the center of the table, steam curls from the spout of a silver kettle decorated with etchings of ravens in flight. At first, you believe the table is set for only you, but slowly, you realize you are not alone. X (x being the number of players + 1) other chairs like your own ring the table, and all but one of them is occupied by an indistinct shade of a person. You imagine them to be likewise confused and taking in their surroundings in a way not too dissimilar to how you are now. Slowly, your fellow travelers begin to resolve, transitioning from shadowy impression to fully realized being, replete with form and color.

Here, I had each player give the basic physical description of their character, specifically their species/lineage, but also their fashion and any other distinguishing features they wanted to highlight, while allowing them the brief chance to react to the strangeness and roleplay if they wanted to, but reminding them that the remaining aspects of their characters, such as their class and background could be revealed in due time.

A moth-eaten curtain on the far side of the room opens, and a shrouded being enters the room carrying a human skull, gilt in silver and glass. They peer at you from beneath their cowl with eyes like glowing points of amber and consider you quietly before approaching the table. "Welcome, travelers. How fortunate you are to find yourself here, in the place betwixt." They gently lift the top of the skull away—revealing the dried tea leaves and a slender silver spoon contained within. In turn, they scoop a measure of dried leaves from the skull with practiced grace and sprinkle them into the teacup in front of you before filling the cup with water. “This tea is special; indeed, a rare treat,” the otherworldly tea-monger says. “To those who can appreciate it, it can—nay will—provide the answers to many questions—even those that you don’t know you have.” “Smell the tea…lean over and breathe in the steam. It’s likely that the tea will smell differently to each of you as it sends your sleeping mind into its past.” The scent is pungent but not unpleasant, unique to each of you. As the aroma teases your nostrils, your mind stirs and suddenly you feel more aware of the whole of your being than perhaps you ever have before.

At this point, I had each player roll for their ability scores. Typical 4d6, dropping the lowest, and assigning them as they pleased before assigning their modifiers (+2 to one stat of their choice, and +1 to another, per the method described in Tasha's Cauldron of Everything). Still, I did manage to inject a bit more theatricality into the process by obligating them to roll with the dice provided:

“Now, my friends,” the being whispers, “drink deep of the tea and let the mists of your own past reveal their secrets. You cannot know where you are going without first understanding where you are from. You cannot welcome others without first accepting yourself. You cannot prepare for the future without first facing the past.” For a moment all seems normal as the flavor of the hot tea lingers on your lips. And then your mind is sent reeling. For a moment you feel as though you are trapped in a sort of peculiar gravity, your body at once leaden and yet weightless. Up and down, forward and back, become meaningless distinctions. An unknowable period of time passes. Seconds or minutes, perhaps even hours, but eventually the fog in your mind begins to coalesce, images and memory dancing across it like the light from a stuttering projector, guided by the shrouded being’s haunting voice. “What seed was planted in your youth that grows now to fruition? What is your background?” 

Here I helped them choose their backgrounds and mark down their skill proficiencies, tool proficiencies, and languages (if any) they gained from their background, as well as the background’s Feature and starting equipment. Personality Traits, Ideals, Bonds, and Flaws I told them will come later. And while we did this, I also had their mysterious host pose them some questions to consider:

What is the world you hail from like? What was the culture you were brought up in like? (Anything between typical medieval fantasy and Jack the Ripper’s London was acceptable. Steampunk and Magic punk style settings like Eberron were also acceptable. After all, Ravenloft can steal its heroes from anywhere.)

In your earlier days, before you became an adventurer, what was it that motivated you? Did you have a profession? 

How did the condition of your existence define you? Did you love to work, or did you work to live?

Do you have a family? Who are they? Do you still keep in touch or are they long lost to you?

After long moments locked in the theater of recollection, the voice continues, urging you through the veiled halls of the decrepit crypt that unfolds within your mind. “What event transpired that led you to choose a different path? What is your class?”

At this point I had all them pick out their character classes and mark down their starting hit points, class proficiencies, starting equipment, and level one class features. Also, during this process, they were given more questions to consider:

What catalyzed you to begin your life as an adventurer? How did you view becoming an adventurer? Fated? Hopeful? Pragmatic? Reluctant?

Your peers know of you because you possess a Feat that places you above the rank and file. What is it? Was it talent, naturally gifted, or is it a skill you developed through training? (This question exists specifically because I have a house rule where I grant every character, not just variant humans, a free feat at level one and it seemed as good a place as any to put that step of character creation in play and help them choose.)

Have you had a noteworthy previous adventure? How did it go?

Did you gain any fame or notoriety beyond your immediate circle early on in your career due to your abilities or talents? Did it earn you a moniker?

Have you witnessed any great horrors in your adventuring career? If so, how have they left their mark on you – physically, mentally, emotionally? How do you cope with it?

More time passes, as visions churn in your mind, emerging from the mist like specters before collapsing back into the fog. Again, the being speaks to you. “Reflect upon your demeanor, your motivations, desires, and dreams laid bare. Insights are never possible through the stories we tell ourselves alone in the present. Allow the tea to continue to illuminate you.”

Finally, we reached the point where I wanted them to pick out their Personality Traits, Ideals, Bonds, and Flaws, and told them they could use the tables from their backgrounds to inspire them, but first, I wanted them to pose some more questions for them to consider. Help them shape what those other answers might have been in their own way, rather than what was in the book if they felt so compelled:

What makes your skin crawl? What can turn you from a hero into a whimpering babe? What is your seed of fear? (Seeds of Fear are a mechanical idea introduced in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft and play directly into the expanded role of the Fear Condition and Stress mechanics which we decided we would use, as well as offering them something they could potentially gain inspiration from in game by roleplaying it well)

Though we might struggle against them, many a creature is as much a product of the better angels of their virtue and the darker demons of their vice as they are of their willful choices. Which virtue best describes you (Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Kindness, Patience, Humility) and which vice? (Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Envy, Wrath, Pride)

Are you rational or passionate? Do you take considered action, driven by logic? Or are you led by your heart, leaping before you look?

How self confident are you? Do you stride boldly forth, self assured in your choices, or do you constantly question your own motives?

Are you sophisticated or superstitious? Do you fancy yourself to be well educated and experienced? Or do you rely on homespun wisdom, informed more by ritual and folklore?

What is your greatest love? For what or whom would you make sacrifices? Anything? Nothing? And would you sacrifice yourself? Or would you rather sacrifice someone else?

What is your greatest regret? Do you have any memories that haunt you at night?

What fascinates you and draws your interests? Art and Philosophy? Magic or Monsters? Swordplay and Warfare?

What are your habits? Do you have any patterns in your life? Rituals which you feel compelled to enact?

How strong is your faith? Are you the sort to go only on high holy days or are you truly pious? Or do you instead believe that the gods care little for mortals and you are on your own?

Do you have a hope or a dream? Something that you want or need? What desire, hidden or not, continues to drive you.

Questions posed, I think had them turn to their ideal, bond, flaw, and personality traits, using the chosen background and their answers for inspiration, or allowing them to simply roll if they preferred. I also told them that their personality traits could be changed or added to whenever they found a good reason to do so. These elements were not necessarily locked in stone as people are allowed to grow and change.

Finally, the fog begins to fade completely from your mind and you find yourself in the dark, smoke filled tea house once again. The being, seated in the Xth seat (Again, number of players +1), closes a tome, one you had not been aware it had even produced, in which it had been writing and recording your meditations, and returns quill to ink pot before it spreads its arms wide, indicating that it speaks to all of you. “The tea has shown you what it believed you needed to know. You have learned about yourself today, but your journey has only just begun.”  The shrouded figure motions to you to look down at the table before you, where you see that both tea cup and saucer have been replaced by a small package, wrapped in black paper and topped with a ribbon of frayed, yellowing lace. Next to this sits an envelope, likewise of black paper, gilt with silver and sealed with red wax. “Take with you the treasure you find within, and mind the invitation you have been given..."

Here, finally, I had each of them roll 1d100 and consult the horror trinkets table from Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft. Just a funny little something for them to carry with them into the game... but something I fully intend to find a way to weave into the narrative if I can manage it.

Ready or not, your lives are soon to be forever changed, Mist walkers…” Its final words spoken, the being rises from its chair to retreat back behind the curtain from which it emerged, taking it's heavy tome along with it. Somewhere in the gloom around you, a grandfather clock chimes 13 times as one by one the candles in the room flicker and go out, guttering as a chilling breeze sweeps through, bringing with it a rising veil of fog. When the last candle is extinguished and all is cast in darkness, you suddenly awaken with a frightful start in more familiar surroundings, still resting wherever it was that you laid your head when you fell asleep the night before. Clearly the vision must have simply been a nightmare… a hallucination of bad food or too much drink… but no… As you take in your surroundings you see it... your eyes catch sight of a small box, wrapped in black paper, torn open and its lace bow discarded, and the unopened invitation, still sealed with red wax…

When it was all said and done, the players had a great time and they had completed characters, set and ready to step into the mists of Ravenloft and set out to tackle the Curse of Strahd. We probably wont actually get to play again for a couple more weeks, but that's fine. It will give them more time to ruminate on their characters and me ample time to prep.

I think, rather than running them as level 1 characters through Death House, I will instead use The House of Lament from Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft. I think it will give them more chances to really experience the haunted house vibes the setting can offer, and more time and ease of getting used to the Fear and Stress mechanics we will be layering onto the game.

Either way, I am very excited.

[setaflow]

Get to Know Me

Thanks for the tag @ghostoffuturespast (please take me on a nature walk with you I'll bring granola bars)! In my decade of using this Tumblr I don't think I've ever done this tag prompt so it's nice to get some fresh answers. Let's see...

Are you named after anyone? Technically? My mom was considering a bunch of names for me when she was expecting, the name she would eventually choose being among them (I think the frontrunner at the time was Vanessa), When she went into labor, one of the nurses helping her was an older woman named [insert my name here] and she said "oh there hasn't been a baby named [insert my name here] born in this hospital in 30 years! :)" so my parents eventually picked that one instead of Vanessa. I get that I wasn't technically named after that nurse, but I was definitely named with her influence, and that has to count for something there lol.

When was the last time you cried? Within the last month, not really willing to get that personal here though. On average I'll cry like 3-4 times a year.

Do you have kids? Hell no, could you imagine?

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Only with people I'm close with. It used to be a running joke that I couldn't do sarcasm well-- still really can't, to be honest-- so I really use it sparingly and try to make it obvious if I do.

What sports do you play/have you played? Tons, surprisingly! I was a fairly active kid and dabbled in softball, ballet, soccer, basketball, and fencing at various points in my life. I swam competitively for 12 years, played lacrosse for nearly as long (first as a defender, then as a goalie), and played a little bit of field hockey as well through middle and early high school.

What's the first thing you notice about other people? Height, usually. Comes with having an egregiously tall 6'8 brother-- first thing I do is mentally check if they're taller than him or not.

Eye color? Blueish-gray. I have minor partial heterochromia as well: a streak of light brown in my right eye.

Scary movies or happy endings? I've been getting into scary movies lately! I binge the Dead Meat YouTube Channel at work for background noise and those videos have increased my interest in horror movies over the last few months. I always love that horror movies have interesting horror and trivia behind their productions and hearing the host James detail them all out has really given me a new appreciation for the kinds of work that go into them.

Any special talents? I can bend my elbows more than 180 degrees.

Where were you born? Northern New Jersey, about 15 minutes west of New York City.

What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, cooking/baking, hiking, running, swimming, video games, watching video essays about things I'm interested in, obsessing over New York sports teams.

Do you have any pets? I take care of my roommate's dog from time to time. He's not mine, but he's a sweetie and I'm basically his aunt, so sorta-kinda.

How tall are you? 5'8.

Fave subject in school? It cycled when I was still in school, but they tended to be History and English. I was a really good essay-writer and there are several periods of history I love learning about-- it's probably why I took to the Assassin's Creed series as much as I did-- so depending on the teacher it was usually one of those. I took a few media and film classes in college and I loved those as well-- I love media analysis with all of my heart.

Dream job? Used to be Olympic Swimmer, then Marine Biologist, then SportsCenter anchor. I came really close to achieving a few of those, but alas :P

Tagging @skippygiraffee @beammeupbroadway @trashcatsnark @seraphfighter @clusterfxckedbysirens and @shadesofchaoticenergy if you want to give this a swing!

[accidentallyadramablog]

2022 Drama Year in Review

I enjoyed doing a year in review last year and wanted to do it again. I watched significantly fewer Asian dramas this year with 29 completed and 24 dropped compared to 75 total dramas (completed and dropped) in 2021. Some of these started in 2021 and finished in 2022 so they are on both lists.

You can find my full watch list on MDL here. Recap below the cut.

This was a busy year. I've been going to night school for my MBA on top of having a full time job and family. I've also been trying to balance what I do enjoy so I've been watching non-Asian series (The Wheel of Time, Warrior Nun, Willow, etc.), reading (I just finished The Lost Dreamer and currently am reading the Locked Tomb Trilogy), and gaming (I finally finished Horizon Zero Dawn and replayed the Dragon Age and Mass Effect series) this year to balance the time spent on watching dramas. Come on over to see me at @snkrfnd if you want to talk about any of those things!

I'm terrible at lists, but here are prob my favorite dramas that I watched this year (some were released in previous years). Strangely, there are no dramas from Vietnam or the Philippines this year.

Love Between Fairy and Devil - now one of my favorite cdramas of all time. Too many reasons why this is at the top of my list

The King's Affection (I had to put it on pause last year because I was losing my mind whenever Park Eun Bin was on screen and finally finished it this year. Phenomenal. How did Kim Rowoon and Nam Yoon Soo hold it together when acting with her?)

Bad Buddy (Started in 2021, finished in 2022. Just excellent! I think this changes the game for Thai dramas.)

Alchemy of Souls Part 1 -everything I love about fusion sageuks

Tomorrow - everything I love about urban fantasy dramas plus it was so incredibly pro-woman I was really astounded it came out when there's politically such a backlash against feminism in S. Korea right now. Everyone in the drama gets 2 gold stars from me just for being involved in the project

Secret Crush on You - It has hands down the best friend group to ever appear on screen. It reminds me of my own friend group in highschool 20+ years ago! Loved the drama from the POV of the characters that are normally used for punching-down humor. Nerds need love too!

Semantic Error - Everything a KBL should be. It was still authentically a kdrama with the usual tropes. It didn't have to sacrifice what makes a kdrama great to make it BL. I find it so hilarious that DKZ exploded their album sales as a result. Maybe if the industry sees the profits, we'll get more quality lgbtq dramas. (On a side note, I watched the movie and swore they did something in post-production because the coloring was different and it was just because I'd seen too many high quality gifsets with talented content creators that are good at coloring and lighting. HAHAHAHA the movie suffered in comparison to the great production value of the gifsets I've been seeing this year.)

Glitch - the gayest thing I watched all year (affectionate). Aliens, cults, and government conspiracies are for the sapphics now, I'm sorry.

Girlfriend Project Day 1 (they announced a 2nd season!!) I don't know how they pulled off such great, sweet chemistry from such a short webdrama. I'm subscribed to their YT channel now in the hopes of more great GL content.

Roommates of Poongduck 304 - imagine what they could do with a full budget and network support!!!! Amazing they could pull off this enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity/and-they-were-roommates, office romcom (and I HATE boss/employee relationships).

Honorable Mentions in no particular order:

All of Us are Dead - the women needed more to do, otherwise this would be higher in my list. Yoon Chan Young blew me away with his acting. You can always tell who started out as a child star.

Ms. Cupid in Love - a good all-rounder cdrama where the writing for the women didn't make me want to pull my hair out

Gaus Electronics - love Kwak Dong Yeon being pathetic and Aziz stole the show. This was the funniest drama I watched all year. I really should have put it in my top 10, but now I'm too lazy to cut and paste.

Alchemy of Souls Part 2 still in progress and loving it for the same reasons I loved part 1 (the idol actors are still weak tho)

GAP the Series - ongoing, but I'm loving it. I hope this ranks high on my 2023 list. I am not used to seeing writers and directors letting women act like they want to bone. I'm so used to the entertainment industry sanitizing wlw relationships. Thank you Saint Suppapong and IdolFactory!!

My School President - unrequited love that's actually mutual pining? The misunderstanding is that the person you thought hated you actually supports you? Sign me tf up! Good acting to boot. Please don't let me down!

Never Let Me Go - Did you see Ms Thanya standing next to the evil uncle???? The way she towered over him? Whew! Time to look up her back catalog. I love an intimidating woman.