#they had a wall with a bunch of sticky notes and stuff with doodles of characters

[drawcupidsbow]

BOBA WITH LOOP! (and also siffrin in doodle form)

[violetbeachpod]

1x01 / twelve oh one

TERESA:

Okay, so–it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since–eight days, maybe? –well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was–Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s–that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve–the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down–My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh–anything else–I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually–it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

Anj, stop–stop listening in! You–you–dude, take a nap.

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

(long beat)

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but–

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet–we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like–those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but–I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in–you get my point–knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would–well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these–these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was–she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like–uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and–one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really–I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and–well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh–at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t–I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine–which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever–sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like–I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just–it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like–in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s–there’s a new moon tonight, so–well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh–oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like–being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before–

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company–like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at–well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant–

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said–wait, lemme find my journal–yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on–Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you–” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned–MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and–well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and–

As folks left–Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then–it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town–as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about–Blarvardgate.

I–I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and–Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a–a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was–well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so–AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,–blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s–it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and–

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but–

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed–and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but–it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in–in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like–could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles–it’s, like–it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess–I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple–the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me–

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but–

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this–this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and–I was still standing–more floating, which was–not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and–

And she said–

(beat, uncomfortable)

What did she say?

(laughs)

It’s–it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s–it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t–type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this–that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s–it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like–I never saw myself as a protagonist, or–any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this–now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the–I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz–he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but–

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m–I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but–This town, VB, it’s–it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not– the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but–Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we–we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well–the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or–his son’s the mayor, right?–Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But–my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or–or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m–I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.

[btsreactionsandtexts]

BTS Single Parent AU

kookies-and-myrok asked: Hello, sweets! I love your writing and I'm not just saying that Lol i always get excited when you post smt, anyways do you write parent au's? If you do can I get a BTS reaction about what they would be like as a single parent? If not then its okay! Keep up the great work 💜

This doesn’t necessarily work as a reaction, but I can do a little like... bullet drabble or whatever on this. Either way, very doable. - Admin Dayna

Seokjin

There’s like... this anime called Amaama to Inazuma (a.k.a. Sweetness and Lightning) which is basically about a single father who raises his daughter to the best of his abilities but he can’t cook as well as his wife (who passed away). I see Single Parent!Jin being like that... except in Jin’s case he can actually throw down in a kitchen

Lots of love and affection

Smothers his baby girl with kisses before dropping her off to daycare and after picking her up

The daycare moms thirst after him bOI

His cookies sold out the fastest at the school bakery

Partially because Daycare Moms are trying to give him the succ

Mainly because his cookies are bomb asf

He got hoes

Reads/sings his daughter to sleep at night religiously

Chocolate covered Strawberries while they watch cartoons together

Shed a single tear in the beginning of Finding Nemo evRYTIM

Was literally floating on air for like a month because his daughter told him he was the “handsomest appa”

Tries really hard to scold his baby girl

Can’t look her in the face when he does it because she’s too damn cute

Puppy Dog Eyes work every once in a while tbh

Will cAUSE A FUCKING SCENE IF HE EVER HEARD SOMEONE WAS BULLYING HIS CHILD

Dad jokes, fucking duh.

Yoongi

Picture this: Yoongi is chilling, right? Lounging on the sofa, watching some psychological mystery film or whatever emo shit he watches. His face is pretty indifferent. He’s unbothered asf. His right arm is covered in scribbles and squiggles. His 7 year old son is currently surrounded by markers, casually doodling on his dad’s arm.

Lets his son choose whatever toys he wants

If his baby boy wants a nerf gun, he’ll get a nerf gun.

If his baby boy wants a fucking bubblegum pink barbie jeep atv, he’s getting a fucking bubblegum pink barbie jeep atv.

Also lets his kid wear whatever he wants

Supports the creative and imaginative endeavors of his child

Does not support coloRING ON THE WALL YOU LIL DEMON BABY

Sometimes stares at his child and thinks “whose mans is this?”

Also looks at his child and thinks “that’s the love of my life”.

One time considered redecorating his closet just so that he can hang a bunch of mirrors on the wall so that whenever his child does something stupid, he can sit him in that closet and close the door so that he can look at his reflection and reevaluate his 7 years long life.

All in all he’s a super supportive daddio.

He’s not like the other dads.

He’s a Cool Dad™

Hoseok

Sitcom dad.

Literally Phil Dunphy from Modern Family.

Tell his kids a lot of stories about his “glory days”

His preteen daughter is like... hella embarrassed by him, but is highkey just as dorky as he is

Still got the juice

Can be super stern when need be

His kids knows that if they have an issue they can always talk to him about it

Has the warmest hugs when the days been rough

Shares both maternal and fraternal instincts 

Can flawlessly switch between motherly and fatherly traits

Tries to make inside jokes with his children

It never works.

“Stop trying to make fetch happen, Hobi. It’s not going to happen”

The best hype man tbh

“YOU SEE THE KID IN THE WHITE SHIRT? THAT’S MINE. I MADE HIM”

Namjoon

You know that cliche where it’s like... the mom leaves the kids alone with the father for a day. And the dad is like “don’t worry honey, I got this” but then the second the mom leaves, there’s toys everywhere, the kids are running around naked, the water he was boiling is on fire, shit has literally hit the fan, the groUND HAS ACTUALLY SPLIT OPEN INTO THE FIERY PITS OF HELL - but he last minute manages to get everything together and in order before the mom comes and finds out? 

That’s Namjoon.

Except like... 24/7 without the mom

Super fast dad reflexes

Also kinda annoying dad noises?

Really good at tutoring the kids with school work and stuff

He taught them majority of their math and science formulas by turning them into catchy songs

Has given up trying to be the cool dad yEARS ago

He’s just not about that life

It’s okay though because his kid’s friends thinks he’s cool

Makes sure his children are WOKE ASF

Tries to enforce bedtime

Keeps them up at night by playing games and/or watching movies together

Lets them go out whenever they want as long as they keep in touch often

Lets his kids make mistakes and learn from them instead of sheltering them from harms way

Motivational Speeches that are actually motivational

God awful happy dances

Hangs his kids A+ test papers on the fridge

“If you show me you got straight A’s at the end of the semester, you can absolutely get your nose pierced” (he says to his 14 year old daughter).

Jimin

Everyone knows that one person who has that really young but super hot mom or dad. Like, they’re lowkey popular and often have friends over because their friends kinda just want to be around their good looking parent.

Stacy’s Mom got it going on

Except it’s like... idk... Park Jae Sun’s Appa got it going on...

Whatever you get what I mean.

He’s a Dilf

Lets his kid invite his friends over whenever they want to

Doesn’t realize that his child’s friends are high key checking him out

Constantly checking up on them to see how they’re doing

“Are you guys okay?”

“Is the house too cold?”

“Would you like something to eat/drink?”

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Don’t be afraid to ask”

A little overbearing if I’m going to be honest

May even shelter his child a little too much

Good morning texts and sticky note reminders around the house

Makes sure his child has food for school everyday, never missing a beat

Proud Dad always

His son is bigger than him

Has to look up at him in order to look his son in the eye to properly reprimand or lecture him

Gets pissed whenever he isn’t taken seriously when giving scoldings

Feels really bad whenever he punishes his kids, and makes up for it with like ice cream or something

Babies make his little mochi heart flutter

Taehyung

He’s the epitome of husband/daddy material. I think Taehyung would make a great dad. He’s the perfect balance of literally all the others.

Which one is the parent and which one is the kid?

Knows how to get down to the level of a child, and properly play with them

Inside jokes with his kids

They say goodbye with aegyo

Openly tells each other they love one another

Likes to squish his baby’s cheeks and blow raspberries on their tummy

Loves the satisfying feeling that follows finally putting a crying baby to sleep

Watches his baby’s tummy rise and fall as they breathe

Hysterically laughs at his child’s laughter

His box smile is strong, and can literally be found in all of his kids.

Also has like, three dogs, but the more the merrier, right?

Isn’t too hard on his kids, but isn’t lenient on them either

Is a healthy medium between strict and easy going

Enforces a proper education but also lets them know that school isn’t the only way to a successful and happy lifestyle

Plays pretend with his children on the weekend

Always ends up in a too small princess dress with ribbons in his hair

Jungkook

You know those kids who are extremely close to their parents to the point where it’s like... and outsider watches the way they talk to their parents and finds it their causality with each other borderline disrespectful? You know those kids who can like... curse around their parents and talks to their parents like it’s another one of their friends and their parent talks back to them just as casually? 

That’s the type of dad Jungkook is.

Plays video games with his kids whenever their schedules allow them some free time together

Him and his kids have a group chat together where they share memes and ugly selfies but also like... keep up to date with school events and whatnot

Follows each other on Snapchat, Twitter, and Instagram

Not the best with giving advice, but his kids know that he’s a shoulder they can cry on

Offers to help them with homework, but ends up just as confused 

They all live off snacks and the neighborhood ahjumma had to start cooking actual meals for them

His kids actually care and asks their dad’s opinion on stuff about like... hair or clothing or something

He picks up on his kids habits and his kids pick up on his

they look like a bunch of bunnies tbh

They all have their own rooms, but Jungkook and his kids always manage to fall asleep dog piled on the living room sofa

[violetbeachpod]

TRANSCRIPT: 1x01 - Twelve Oh One

Hey, folks! Bee here. Y’all reached out to me about transcripts awhile back, and, hey, since the season’s over, I’m gonna start posting them! As a person with attention issues, I super get the need for transcripts, and I’m sorry for not delivering on them sooner.

I’m also reediting episodes right now, so. Those corrections will be posted about as they happen. Anyway. Here we go. Episode one, which you can listen to here, if you so please.

TERESA: 

Okay, so--it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since--eight days, maybe? --well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was--Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s--that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve--the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down--My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh--anything else--I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually--it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

[lean away from mic]

Anj, stop--stop listening in! You--you--dude, take a nap.

[and we’re back]

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

[long beat]

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but--

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet--we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like--those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but--I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in--you get my point--knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would--well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these--these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was--she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like--uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and--one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really--I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and--well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh--at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t--I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine--which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever--sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like--I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just--it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like--in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s--there’s a new moon tonight, so--well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh--oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like--being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before--

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company--like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at--well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant--

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said--wait, lemme find my journal--yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on--Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you--” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned--MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and--well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and--

As folks left--Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then--it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town--as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about--Blarvardgate.

I--I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and--Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a--a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was--well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so--AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,--blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s--it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and--

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but--

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed--and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but--it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in--in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like--could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles--it’s, like--it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess--I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple--the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me--

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but--

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this--this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and--I was still standing--more floating, which was--not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and--

And she said--

[beat, uncomfortable]

What did she say?

[laughs]

It’s--it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s--it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t--type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this--that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s--it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like--I never saw myself as a protagonist, or--any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this--now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the--I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz--he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but--

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m--I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but--This town, VB, it’s--it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not-- the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but--Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we--we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well--the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or--his son’s the mayor, right?--Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But--my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or--or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m--I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.