#and it can only be relieved by like… true forgiveness or some other disney shit? like until then they have nightmares

[m1d-45]

death, rebirth, new life

summary: uh zhongli gets nerfed, you get some new friends, xiao has a crisis of morality(?)

word count: ~3.2k

-> warnings: major spoilers for xiao lore, like very major. spoilers for liyue archon quest. not much else

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @thehoneymushroomhealer || @imyme20 || @bittersweetorpheus || @vampirecatsw || @willburzone || @some-mildly-happy-human|| @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy || @inmyprinceerafr || @depressed-bitchy-demon || @kithewanderingme

<< first part || < masterlist > || next part >>

zhongli allows his weapon to fade back into golden dust, his mind involuntarily comparing it to the way you dissolved before him.

they were quite similar. after he’d pulled away his polearm, you had sent him a final smile as your body disintegrated into white flakes, much like his spear had, the water rushing back to fill the space you’d left. it had surprised him, because he’d expected you to fall into the black smoke that hilichurls did. unless he had made some sort of…

no, he tells himself, shaking his head. you deserved it. to wear a face that wasn’t yours, to defy his god so, his actions were entirely jus-

a spike of pain drives into his lower back and zhongli reaches behind him with a hiss, feeling for whatever’s hurt him only to land on the glass of his fake vision. it stings through his gloves, and he’s quick to yank it off, uncaring as the string it’s hung on snaps. the small gems on it scatter, but he’s focused on the glass in his hand.

or, rather, the floor. his hand still hurts from the pricks of invisible needles it stabbed into his skin, and he wasn’t keen on holding it any longer.

“what’s wrong?” hu tao comes up to his side, hand landing on his shoulder. “are you okay? is your vision?”

“it’s nothing.”

discretely, he tries to turn a pebble on the floor in front of him. he tells himself it’s nothing, he knows it’ll work, he just needs the confirmation for himself, since if a fake vision could react like that..

“hey, don’t worry about it. the dead need to stay that way. whoever that was, i trust your judgement. i’m certain you did the-“

she cuts herself off with a pained cry, her shoulders jerk back as her hands reach for her back, her face twisting in pain. zhongli takes a step over his ‘vision’, turning her by the shoulder to see what he knows but doesn’t want to believe.

her vision is glowing brightly, the diamond-shaped gem heating up the metal around it. he wastes no time in removing it from the clip holding it in place, though he has to drop it as well from the heat. it burned her jacket, and she’ll certainly need a new one, but that’s not what he’s worried for.

after all, the stone hadn’t moved.

the sun stung your eyes through your lids, forcing you awake if only to move to a more shaded area. the ground beneath you was hard but not harsh, warmer than wuwang hill by a long shot. you were tempted to stay, to allow yourself to slip back into sleep…

something squishy bumped into your right arm.

you pushed your eyes open, pulling at the numb strings of muscles in your arms to help yourself up. you were sitting in a stone… building would be too generous. there were four pillars and a roof, with a ramp to your left and a staircase in front of you.

and immediately to your right, the object that bumped you earlier, is a small dendro slime.

wide orange eyes peer up at you, the sight cute enough for you to forget your aches.

“hey,” you mumble, reaching a wobbly hand to nudge against its side. the slime chitters, hopping into your lap, and you notice something shining in the leaves atop its head. it doesn’t seem bothered, only pressing itself further into your hand with a chirp that nearly sounds apologetic.

“don’t be sorry.” you move your hand to pet over the stems on top of it, the slime’s eyes slowly beginning to close. you feel something hard beneath your palm, and move to see what it is. in the center of the slime’s head is a small tangle of grass, something golden shimmering in the center. you’ve never looked really hard at the models in-game, mostly because they’re always attacking you, so you’re not sure if this is meant to be there or not. maybe they’re like crystalflies, with a core in the middle? but why be exposed…

the slime chirps in your lap and you move your hand away, a ‘sorry’ on the edge of your lips when it stretches to move the tangle between your fingers. did it want you to fix it?

you tilt the slime towards you, but you don’t have a chance to try. as you watch, the tangle undoes itself, cradling a golden ring between the stalks. it looks about your size, with a small blue gem embedded on one side. the slime makes a soft noise, the ring sliding forward as it tilts.

“for me?”

you picked up the ring at its affirmative trill, sliding it onto your finger. it fit as good as it looked, surprisingly. where had the slime gotten a ring your size, let alone know it would fit you?

the slime looked up, seeking a response, and you smiled.

“thank you, little guy. it’s beautiful.” the slime visibly grew happy, hopping lightly in your lap, and you couldn’t help but laugh. it looked so excited, orange eyes beaming as it twirled itself into a little circle. how could they be enemies?

“where’d you get this?”

your question didn’t dampen its excitement—a surprise, since you expected it to have stolen the ring—and it only hopped off your lap, moving halfway down the staircase before looking back at you.

using the pillars to support yourself, you stood, wincing at the combined pain of old wounds and sleeping on rock. as you carefully move down the steps, you hope that the slime wont lead you to some poor merchant’s cart.

the small slime hopped along a dirt path, and you took the time to look around. behind you to the left was a large pit, for lack of a better word, a tree growing in the center on a platform surrounded by water. if you had to guess, you were probably still in liyue, just more south. the horizon was dotted with spires, and you think you see something like the jade chamber off to the left of your current path. it’s hard to tell, given the distance, but…

the sounds of humanoid chanting reaches your ears, and you startle for a moment before hearing the trademark woo! of an abyss mage. the slime stops, checking on you, but you just give it another smile as you continue to walk. so it got it from hilichurls, then? odd, but better than stealing it from somebody. it was in remarkable condition for being from hilichurls, though…

the slime leads you onto some rocks, and you can see the camp just below you. an abyss mage turns as you approach, the red film of a shield beginning to appear around it before it recognizes you. it was a small camp, only a handful of hilichurls around, and they all crowd you as you climb down the rocks.

the abyss mage chitters in a language you don’t understand, its red ears flopping as it gestures. it finishes with a deep bow, looking up at you, and your face twists in apology. luckily, it seems to get it, pointing to you before waving you into the camp. you take its hand and let it lead you to a crate to sit on, watching as it turns to the rest of the group and says… something. nonetheless, the hilichurls seem to get it, all nodding. the abyss mage puts its hands on its hips, satisfied.

the dendro samachurl says something to the large mitachurl, who nods, hefting its rock shield and standing near the entrance of the camp. the samachurl then pulls over another hilichurl as it walks to you. its staff is more at eye level with you than it is.

the samachurl chitters beneath the mask, and the hilichurl besides it—you assume, based on prior experiences—translates.

“unu boya ika zido mosi aba nunu,” it says, pointing further down the path, where you can barely see a wooden structure.

now, your hilichurl isn’t the best. in the beginning, you learned somewhat, but definitely not enough to know the entirety of what it just said. you catch the word for enemy and some sort of time word you think means later in the day, so that together with the gesture.. you’re hopefully assuming that it means later in the day there will be enemies, likely the millelith, over that direction.

you nod. the hilichurl seems proud of itself.

the samachurl continues, much shorter this time, and the hilichurl holds out a hand.

“muhu mita?”

ah. those ones you know just fine.

you accept the offer of a meal and let it walk you to a rock near a campfire, listening as they talk to each other. they bring you food and share more amongst themselves, the electro shooter waving its bandaged hands in a story you didn’t try to decipher. the heat of noon begins to fade after an hour or two, and though the campfire is now embers and your wooden plate is empty, you’re content.

the dendro slime from earlier sticks close to you, shifting as close to the dying fire as it dared whilst being out of range of the jumping sparks. it wasn’t particularly cold, only around 3ish by your best judgement. the sun still shone in the sky, washing over sand and stone and the things that sparkled under it. there was nothing to worry over, nobody near, and the mitachurl and pyro grenadier were still guarding the entrance. it was a welcome respite.

you hope it’ll last.

xiao pulled his polearm from the body of a hilichurl, picking a tuft of matted red hair from the jade edge. the shattered remains of its mask fell to the floor as its body dissolved, but he just stepped over it, dismissing his weapon. the boy from qingce was uninjured, the hilichurl grenadier had fallen, and his work here was done.

“-jianguo, what are you doing out here? you should know better than to wander near wuwang hill!”

xiao rolled his eyes, hoping the fading debt of the hilichurls would dissipate faster. he couldn’t leave without endangering the child or his mother, but he wanted to leave earlier sometimes, if only so people would learn not to wander into areas they didn’t belong.

“but mama, all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill! our charms worked!” the small boy triumphantly held up a small piece of paper, sloppily colored gold with some sort of crayon. shaky black penmanship made a crude imitation of a sigil of permission, a hilichurl’s mask in the center. or, at least, he assumed that’s what it was. children…

“no, jianguo, hilichurls don’t listen to your sigils! just… just stay away from wuwang hill, okay? say your thanks to the nice man who saved you and let’s go home.”

the boy turned, wide eyes fixed on him, and xiao checked that he had absorbed enough of the karma for it to be safe before teleporting away.

he landed on unfamiliar dirt, haunting trees surrounding him. judging by the blue wisps floating around, he could guess he was in the forests atop wuwang hill.

his question was why.

normally, he teleports away to the next source of concentrated karma to ensure it doesn’t end up infecting the people of liyue. but this… he knew wuwang hill had hilichurls and cicin mages, but certainly not a high enough concentration, right?

‘…all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill!’

unless something called them here.

with one hand on his mask, xiao drew his spear and started to walk.

the forest was oddly quiet. the leaves themselves seemed to stay still, the only noise being made by his shoes upon the path. there were no cicins, nor their mages, nor hilichurls of any kind. yet what was left of his tattered soul was called up the path, some remnant of an instinct telling him to let go of his polearm.

he gripped it tighter in response.

the stone steps ahead seemed to taunt him, seeming to stretch further and further away as he walked. whatever intuition tugged at him felt like it was tied around his soul, tying up the scattered pieces to drag around. it.. was less irritating than it should be, something that frightened him more.

every step he took highlighted the rips across his heart, the scars of karma accentuated. but it wasn’t the surveying gaze of a predator looking for weak points, the invisible eyes prying into his soul neither threatening or aggressive. it felt like he was being assessed by a doctor, like he was young and still being fostered by morax, like he’d gotten into a scuffle with bosacious and he was being scolded even as his arm was being bandaged, the warm mug of tea in his hand soothing the ache in his knuckles-

water on his cheek drew his attention, and he was quick to wipe it off his face, glancing at the sky. he didn’t remember any stormclouds coming in, and the skies seemed..

clear…

…

xiao set his jaw and kept walking, determined to keep his mind on his task.

the stone was cold beneath his feet, the seelie court glowing as the seelie inside buzzed. xiao turned the corner, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest. it had to be nothing. it had to be just some random memory that he was reminded of because of the trees, or the air, or… anything.

xiao walked up the second set of stairs, stopping at the top in shock. the pathway across the pool in front of the domain was covered in wildlife, everything that was missing from the forest condensed into one space on the path. birds, butterflies, even a crane and an electro cicin, all gathered around a small space.

he slowly took a step forward, confused by the display. to see so many animals getting along, crowding such an area as wuwang hill..

xiao continued to walk, his foot splashing into the water above the path harsher than he intended. he froze, making sure he didn’t disturb anything, but the gathering remained. he quickly made his way over the tree in the middle of the path, ensuring he landed quieter this time. as he closer, the details of what he was looking at slowly filled in. between the legs of cranes and over the heads of crows, he could see that a portion of the stone was a different color than the rest. the water above it also refused to move, the ripples from the various animals not moving it an inch.

the birds finally moved when he got close enough, flapping over to the opposite side of the discolored stone. xiao crouched at the edge of the still water, mindful not to get himself wet.

the stone, and water to some extent, thin as it was, was stained a yellowish color. the path looked newer, less worn, the water above it clearer.

his frown deepened the longer he looked at it. he’d never seen anything like this, any substance that froze water while it was still liquid and cleaned it of any dirt whilst never dispersing. he never saw so much wildlife, for lack of better words, getting along like this. the cicin confused him further- it also linked back to what he’d heard, that hilichurls had been called back to wuwang, but he’d yet to see one.

the slashes across his heart pulsed as it beat, reminding him of their presence as he tried to focus. the string tied in his chest pulled him forward, to reach and sink into the shallow pool of gold. he shouldn’t, it was dangerous, he didn’t know what it was or what effect it had on him—he should leave now, in rationality, because he was already being affected. if whatever this was was strong enough to affect him, a yaksha, then surely it was a danger to the villagers nearby..

then why didn’t he feel like it was a danger? why, though his heart burned with the remains of his karmic debt, eternities of slaughter, did he feel lighter?

questions remained unanswered as the pull strengthened, the animals around him growing bold, risking being near him for the chance to crowd the shimmering water. he checked that there wasn’t anything or anybody lying in wait—the chance of this being a trap was too high to ignore—before hesitantly dismissing his polearm, making way for a large raven to land beside him.

xiao stared at the bird, watching as it kept its body entirely out of the odd zone while still sticking close. did it not feel the same pull as he did? was this water meant for creatures such as him, with lifetimes worth of sin on their shoulders? was this where the hilichurls vanished into?

his heart beat against his ribs, the cuts of karma pulsing with it. this water, this stone, he had to be affecting it somehow. though he made sure that his shoes were outside the boundary and that his hands didn’t touch inside it, it was hard to deny the way whatever was dissolved in the water was attracted to his end. it had formed a gradient, the sheen across it darker on his end. he felt a need to reach out, to hold his dirtied past to this cleansing water and be clean of it. no matter how impossible. no matter how irrational. no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it was outlandish and would only get him into trouble, no matter how strong his will or how many rips crossed his heart.

…when xiao gave in and touched the golden stain, one of the tears healed.

the water’s shine faded in an instant, quickly turning back to clear as the stone beneath it aged before his eyes; animals around him rustled and cried, feathers ruffling as they came to their senses and took flight, leaving him with his hands over his sternum and a bright light beneath his skin.

feeling like one of the birds himself, xiao sat in a daze, his mind racing as he tried to rationalize what just occurred.

what was that? what had happened? why did he feel so light? why was his mind covered in warmth and memories of his time with the yakshas, with morax, with the traveller, why was he so- so free? what happened to the chains of karma crossing his limbs, binding him to his nightmares? what happened to the voices repeating his sins as the worst song ever played, where did the pain and the aches and his debt go? how could this water heal what the adepti could not? what morax could not?

clutching the healed seam of his soul, alatus fled.

[stargayzingidiot]

Quack Part 2

Part 1

Summary: The aftermath of Patton ducking out. Thomas is acting weird, and the others find out why.

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Thomas Sanders, Patton Sanders, Deceit Sanders, and Remus Sanders

Relationships: Platonic DRLAMP (is that what it’s called?), Focus on platonic Moxiety

Words: 1732

Warnings: Panicking, Swearing, Self-deprecating thoughts, Yelling, Crying, Angst (hurt/comfort)

(Let me know if there need to be any other warnings)

Read on AO3

---

Something was wrong. 

Virgil felt like something was wrong. No, he knew something was wrong but he didn’t know what. He hated not knowing. His mind always tried to fill in the blanks and that almost always made him jump to conclusions. Just like now.

What if someone was hurt? 

What if he had done something wrong?

What if the world was ending?

What if Thomas was dying?

What if, what if, what - wha -....

He could feel himself panicking. He knew what he had to do. What he always did when the world was overwhelming and he needed comfort.

He had to find Patton.

However, before he could sink down, Roman rose up in his room. He looked like he was also freaking out. His eyes darted quickly around the room before they landed on Virgil.

“Virgil! Thank god you’re here! We have a situation”

“Yeah, no shit. What the fuck is going?”

The thought of Patton scolding him for his language comforted him a bit. Though it also made the need to have his best friend there to calm him down even stronger.

It was okay, though. Patton would help them figure out what was happening.

Roman didn’t answer Virgil. He just pulled him to Thomas’s living room and left again. Assumedly, to get the others.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Virgil’s panic increased. But his protective nature stepped in when he saw Thomas on the couch. He was sitting there staring blankly in front of him. Logan was beside him looking confused. And was that panic Virgil could sense from him?

When Logan noticed Virgil on the stairs he looked relieved. He walked over to him.

“I don’t - I don’t know what’s wrong. He hasn’t moved an inch since we found him. Virgil, I - I have no idea what to do”  He stuttered out.

Virgil’s suspicions from before were confirmed. Logan was panicking. He laid a hand on his shoulder trying to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Even though he himself was freaking out. Virgil wasn’t good at the whole comforting thing. No, Patton was much better.

When he came, they would all find out what was wrong with Thomas, calm down, and then maybe watch some Disney movies. Yeah, that sounded great. Virgil could really use that right about now.

Virgil was pulled out of his thoughts by Roman rising up in his usual place, but Patton wasn’t with him. 

“Where- um -” Virgil was interrupted by Roman.

“I don’t know! I tried to summon him several times. He isn’t answering!”

No, no no no no no nono. 

This could not be happening. Virgil’s mind was screaming at him. Where was he? They needed him!

He tried to sort all his thoughts out, but they were all jumbled together. When the pieces finally fell into place, his heart sunk. 

It didn’t make any sense. Patton wouldn’t do that, right? 

“Um, I think I know what’s going on” he hesitantly said.

The others stared at him. Waiting for him to elaborate.

“Remember when I decided I wasn’t needed because I only hurt Thomas, and I ducked out? I - um, I think Patton has done the same thing”

Roman looked horrified.

“What!? No! He’s probably just busy in the imagination. You know he gets distracted easily. I’ll go look -”

“Roman, wait. Virgil might be right. Look -” Logan interrupted as he walked over to Thomas.

“Thomas, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t know” 

“Do you know what you’re feeling?”

“Um, I don’t really feel anything”

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t want this to be true. He remembered the complete loneliness he felt when he had ducked out. How cold he was, and how dark it was. He didn’t want Patton to feel that. 

Maybe, it wasn’t true. Maybe, they were jumping to conclusions. Maybe Thomas was just having an off day. He got those sometimes, and he was going through a lot lately, so it made sense. 

Maybe, they just needed to be there for him right now. Maybe Roman was right. Maybe Patton got distracted in the imagination again.

Only one way to find out. 

“Hey, Thomas, how do you feel about lying?”

Thomas looked at him, contemplating the question.

“I guess it’s okay to lie. You just have to be good at it so people don’t find out you’ve lied. If they don’t know, then no hard feelings, right?”

Okay, this was bad. 

Virgil was visibly panicking now. He could feel his whole body shaking. Roman put a hand on his back trying to comfort him. Logan spoke to him softly.

“Hey, Virge, take a deep breath. We will find him. Remember how we got you back? We went to your room. So let’s all go to Patton’s room and find out what made him, as you like to call it, duck out”  He turned and faced Thomas.

“Thomas, think happy thoughts”

Before Virgil could even react to what was going on, they rose up in Patton’s room. Except, it did not at all look like his room. It was gloomy and cold. This had to be a mistake.

“Um, Specs, are you sure we didn’t take a wrong turn? This looks more like Vee’s room” 

“Yes, Roman, I am sure. Patton’s room changes its appearance to match his mood. This could explain why he chose to leave. His room indicates that he was feeling distressed. We just have to get to him and find out what made him feel that way”

They all closed their eyes, concentrating on summoning Patton.

They were met with silence.

Yet, for Virgil, everything was too loud. They couldn’t lose him! He was too important. Thomas was a mess without him. They needed him. Virgil needed his best friend. He had to get him back.

“Patton, please come back. We can’t do this without you. We need you. I - Patton, I need you. You’re always there for me. I don’t know what made you feel like you had to do this, but I remember why I did it. I remember how it felt when my connection to Thomas was severed. It wasn’t pleasant. So please-, Patton, please let us help you. We can be there for you. Let us show you that you’re important”

He had been holding back tears but now they were streaming down his face.

He waited a minute. Hopeful that Patton would show up, but the room was silent, and Virgil lost it. He couldn’t breathe, his ears were ringing, he was shaking, and the room was blurry because of his tears.

Patton appeared beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, remember the breathing exercise. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight”

Patton did the breathing and counting with him until he calmed down.

As soon as his breathing was back to normal, Virgil threw his arms around Patton and hugged him tightly.

Patton didn’t hug him back.

“Hey-, um, hey guys. What are you, um, what are you doing here?” He nervously said.

Roman looked so relieved to see him again, but Logan, Logan looked furious.

“Are you joking! How could you be so stupid to think that you disappearing wouldn’t have any consequences!?” 

He gestured over to Thomas, who, when Patton appeared, had passed out from the overwhelming feeling of getting the majority of his emotions back. Now he was sitting on the floor crying softly.

Virgil was ready to give Logan a piece of his mind, but before he could say anything, Patton spoke.

“I’m sorry. I - I didn’t know. I thought I was finally doing something good, but I messed everything up again. See, that’s why I’m not needed. I can’t do anything right! I’m annoying, immature, silly, and stupid! I’m a burden, and I didn’t want to be in the way anymore. That’s why I left. I thought - I  thought it would help”

Logan sighed softly with a sad look in his eye.

“Please don’t apologize, Patton. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I am, uh, not good at feelings. I was worried and scared for you. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was mad. I am truly sorry for making you feel unnecessary. We value your contributions”

“Yes, Padre, you’re not a burden. Logan and I get too passionate sometimes, and we forget the people around us. I am sorry too. Please know that we appreciate you”

Patton had tears in his eyes, and Virgil reached over and held his hand. Patton looked him in the eye.

“Virgil, you must be annoyed at me. I keep accidentally calling you the things you don’t want me to call you. I make you uncomfortable”

“Are you kidding? I could never be annoyed at you. You’re my best friend. We’re a dynamic duo, right? Also, I have noticed that you’re trying to do better and that means the world to me” He wrapped Patton in another hug. This time the hug was reciprocated.

“I don’t understand. I hurt Thomas, and I was horrible to Deceit and Remus. Oh God, they must hate me!”

“We don’t”

Deceit and Remus appeared and slowly walked over to Patton.

“Patton, we don’t always see eye to eye, but I know that what you do is important. I respect you, and I forgive you for the way you acted. I am also sorry. It wasn’t like I was any better. In the future, we should try to understand each other more”

“Same here, Daddio. I know my ideas get a tiny bit crazy sometimes. You help me to not do things that would endanger anyone. Plus your puns are hilarious. You crack me up!”

Logan walked over to Patton and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Patton, we all make mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from them. You recognizing that you made a mistake is a step towards doing better next time. You’re trying to improve and that is what matters”

Patton had tears streaming down his face. Had he really misunderstood everything?

He was pulled into a group hug, and when he felt Thomas join in he finally relaxed.

Patton wasn’t okay right now, but he was certain that he would be.

He had friends supporting him.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Patton’s room got a bit brighter again. 

---

It is done! 

I don’t know if I’m happy with it. I tend to be quite hard on myself so maybe I’m not the best judge.

I’m sorry if some of them are OOC. It is my first time writing any of them so I’m still trying to figure out how to do it.

People who wanted to be tagged: @strickenwithclairvoyance , @naturaldee-saster , @shootingstarpilot , @viana-dascolli

[setitofffamily]

Track By Track Reaction to Midnight by Set It Off.

This was written as I was listening. So excuse any typoes. 

Killer In The Mirror - Why is it so aggressive? Why are these words so true? Why do I want to yell this at all the assholes I went to high school with? Or my old boss... Or that co-worker who ratted me out for something I didn’t do? Acturally this is quite a bop. Like I have no idea what “killer in the mirror” really means but I actually feel it in my bones... Yes. I’m going to send this to all those poeple who were assholes in high school. Yup. 

Hourglass - Reminds me a bit of old school SIO. Really digging this song. Is this song about a middle age crisis? Or an existential crisis? I think middle aged... Why is that relateable when I’m only 25? For some reason I want to go reread all those texts message I sent with my ex best friend that I kind of miss alot... Wait. This is the epitomy of reading old text messages with your ex at 3am... Then writing a pissy drunk text and deleting it? 

Lonely Dance - This album is literally how I feel every other day. The anthem of those of us who have anxiety and hate people. This how I feel when I’m writing in my room late at night surrounded by my obscure Marvel and music collection that no one ever sees... Also a BOP. I’m going to blast this on repeat every other day and scream the lyrics in my car, even when people are in the car with me. Yes. Yes. This song is my new anthem. 

Different Songs - Why is this song about action figures? Oh wait... A guitar? Is this about old school SIO changing? OMG IT IS! No wait... It’s about growing apart with the people you used to know? Wait no they are flipping off everyone who’s talking about their style changing? Wait... No it’s about an old relationship? I can’t figure this one out. Oh who cares. Another song I wanna dance to. But think it’s the one about growing apart. 

For You Forever - Already digging the change in pace. A little slower... Don’t hate it. OH SNAP! Bring that chorus around. You tell that person to stop stringing you along, Cody. YOU TELL THEM! Why is this also relatable? I hate this. Give me a song I can’t relate to on this album. Come on SIO! 

Dancing With The Devil - Demon voice? WHAT!? Wait... Why does this start sound like We Can’t Stop by Miley Cyrus? Did anyone else realize this? Not bad though... Not my favorite... I don’t think I like this one... Why is Cody now a demon? What’s he doing? Why don’t I like this? Why do I also want to sing along? Are there more than 1 demon in that back track? Why is is slow now? What is this song... Why is he angry again? I’m so distracted by the demon voice I can’t listen to the words. HE’S TALKING REALLY FAST!!!! Bring back the chorus CODY! And Demon man is back... Phew. Finished. 

Go To Bed Angry - Another slow beat... I can dig this. A little sway in my chair. Cool. Cool. I wish people listened to this anthem more often. Going to bed angry is literally bad for your health. Check the studies. Cody is onto something. GIRL!? WHO IS GIRL!? (check track) Oh it does say there’s a feature artist. Okay. She’s got a good voice. I should check her out... She’s no Ash Costello in Parners in Crime but.... Let’s all just go to bed happy. Send this to people who are mad at you when they pull the “Night.” text and hope they get the message? Not my favorite song on this album but not my least so far... 

Midnight Thoughts - YES! My favorite song heard before the release! JAM TIME! Mostly because this is literally how I feel every night. Excuse me while I go dance a bit and try not to wake up the roommates while I celebrate the existance of this song. ooooOOOoooOOOooo! 

Criminal Minds - Why does this sound like something that should be Hercules... That Disney movie you know and- Wait. What? This is a very different sound... I... I think I like it? I feel like this should be a musical or something. Like Cody is singing a solo in an emotional musical. He’s the protagonist. He’s a detective falling in love with the suspect, but this is the scene where he has a mental breakdown about what he should do about this situation. He’s debating running away with the suspect but he knows she might be guilty... And now we are full circle to that tour they did back in like 2014 with the masks and stuff with the Bonnie and Clyde story. Oh it’s over...

No Disrespect - Ooooo I like this guitar. This is the next number in the musical I was talking about. The suspect ran off with her drug dealer boyfriend after Cody let her go. Now he’s losing his job and pissed off at her. I need to get off this musical thing... This is a funky song. I like it. I wonder who pissed off Cody again? Piano? What!? Acoustic guitar? Where is this going? Now we’re in a romantic ballad? Never mind... He’s still mad... 

Stitch Me Up - Awwww... This reminds me of my best friends that have helped put me back together after all the shitty things I’ve been through... Already loving this song. The beat is good and lyrics are so amazing. I love this message as well... Everything you went through makes you who you are. My cat has even emerged to listen to this song. He’s digging it as well. YEAH CAT! When the cat approves it’s a good song right? This ones in the top 5 of this album. Yup. Also reminds me of S-Club7 for some reason? 

Raise No Fool - Call out all those fakers! YES! I like this. WHAT A JAM! Screw all the people who have tried to use me. I’mma send this to my old boss. In a random email. 2 years from now. When she forgets. Where was this song 3 months ago when I lost my job? Because this was perfect to decribe what happened. Instead of trying to type out what happened I could have just sent them this song! Also should send it to those people who strung me along over the years... The losing my job is just fresh. Also in the top 5. I’ll sing this LOUD at the next show. Don’t worry y’all. Abrupt end though? 

I Want You (Gone) - Someone hurt you!? WHO HURT YOU!? Someone hurt me... This is literally how I felt when I stopped talking to you like 3 years ago... And was ignoring all my friends and family telling me they were draining my happiness. Nothing was more relieving than taking all your stuff and shoving it in a box under my bed. Still trying to get my life back after those almost 5 years of my life wasted. There’s the trumpet! I was waiting for a trumpet. I like this song. Do I like this song or just the lyrics? Another song that seems like it should be in a musical. What if I wrote a musical with all these songs in it? Can I get those rights? Set It Off... Let’s chat about that. The next Broadway hit is Midnight. 

Unopened Windows - A VERY slow jam... This is cute... When it’s gonna turn dark... I feel it coming... Such a sweet song though. I wanna make a cover of this song. It’s so sweet. This would also be perfect in that musical we talked about. Oooo it’s picking up a bit... This feels so raw compared to their usual music. Why they gotta throw this curve ball at me? They better play this on the next tour. So I can cry... Now I wanna cry... I’mma cry... It’s making me sad... So many feels... I’m crying... This is a part 2 to Dad’s Song. Holy shit... No one warned me about this emotion!!! I miss Cloe so damn much... 

Happy All The Time - Still trying to get over Unopened Window’s. Hold on. Okay I can listen to this now. I’m half way through and can’t focus. I’m not crazy? Thank you, Cody. I like this. Sounds like another anthem. This was a good follow up to me bawling... Jesus... Okay. I forgive them. They literally just told me the fact I cried was okay because I don’t have to be happy all the time. 

[queennicoleinboots]

Day 8 of Xara's Curse:

I Went To A Meeting To Fuck Off (Xara POV)

Co-authored by Jack McGee

Jasper, my 69-year-old client with a love for cigars and hatred for humanity, and I were on the phone. It was the end of a long day of dealing with arguments about racism that started off as a simple argument for why every public pool needs a lifeguard. I also had to deal with the elongated process of paying my bills over the phone because some jackasses are trying to hack everyone. Fuck them. But anyway, Jasper and I like to talk on the way home as soon as Joebear and I speak for a few minutes. Jasper likes to make sure I'm home safe. Apparently, I'm the only human he likes.

"So... what pissed you off this time?" Jasper asked as he hit his head with the phone a few times out of frustration.

"Oh God where do I begin? Oh yeah. You're cool," I said.

"After the obligatory fist fight we had to relieve stress and anxiety, I hope so," he said as he whacked his head with the phone again. That shit was starting to crack me up.

"True, but seriously, I hate Mondays with a fucking passion. Hackers have made it SUCH A NIGHTMARE TO PAY BILLS OVER THE PHONE!" I yelled.

"I know. Some cyber jackasses always have to do something," Jasper said with a sigh.

"And, I'm worried about Mickey Mouse showing up if the VA is around next Friday to do inspection. They could possibly call Adult Protective Services and the FBI. That idea scares the hell out of me. Mickey Mouse is the VA's sworn enemy. Not to mention he has been haunting your place for the last few weeks. What the fuck did I do?" I asked.

"Apparently, he is pissed that I'm not watching more Disney movies. I don't fucking know!" Jasper shouted.

"Mickey Mouse is a sick fuck. Speaking of sick, most everyone is getting sicker, and that stresses me out. Your back is more in pain. Jamie's pain is literally through the roof. His back brace is hanging out of the ceiling. Mr. Williamson is now making everything a racist joke against white people, especially Italians. And, Joebear is having muscle spasms in his back," I ranted.

"Jesus. What else?" Jasper asked.

"The state of Georgia itself is becoming a frustration. I'm not kidding when I say these people are driving me fucking crazy!" I exclaimed.

"Haha. It's true. I'm crazy because I've been in the South for too long," Jasper said with a crazy laugh.

"These early morning risers drive me to the brink of insanity. How the fuck are we supposed to sleep?!" I screamed as I drove furiously through my wooded route home at night.

"We don't!" Jasper said with a loud, jovial laugh.

"Truly. Some people just spam call you until you wake up. Hasn't anyone heard of sleep around here? I wondered why this place has zombies walking around, but then I discovered no one actually fucking sleeps around here. Plus, we live an hour and a half away from the Center of Disease Control," I said with a chuckle.

"Haha, yeah! It might help their brains if they slept, too," Jasper said with a laugh.

"My landlady should also be a target practice dummy. She doesn't want to use our rent money to hire a lifeguard. I hope someone sues the fuck out of her if God Forbid someone were to have a heart attack over the sheer amount of bullshit she puts every fucking resident through," Xara screamed.

"So glad I have my own house and own pool. Fuck that nonsense! Target practice, lol, I don't understand how the easiest job as a property manager can be fucked up. They fuck up everything. They looked at me like I was a stupid idiot for parking there. I lived there, too. 'Yeah well I'm a woman.' I don't care if you have a vagina," Jasper said as he laughed. Yes, he did say "lol."

"Did I mention I have a meeting tomorrow dealing with women?" I asked before commenting. "Fuck tomorrow's meeting. Fuck tomorrow's meeting. Fuck tomorrow's meeting. The last time I saw these people I was a zombie screaming, 'BRAINS! I need some. I'm starving. Fuck. I'm in Georgia. I won't be undead for very long, will I?!'"

Jasper was laughing and banging his fists on his TV tables. "Oh God. I'm sure that will be awkward! They'll be happy to see you."

"Why not? We're all going there to fuck off," I said.

"So, you will fuck off tomorrow?" Jasper asked.

"Yep. And I'm home. Thank you. See you when I am done fucking off," I said as I stopped the car and turned off the ignition.

___________________________________________

At the meeting:

I literally just walked into my Housekeeper's Association meeting to hear Shakira, the Human Resources lady going on a rant.

"Well, I'm going to fuck off from fucking off. It has already been a long day," she said.

I chuckled. I completely agreed with her. I had just woken up, and I already felt like the day was long.

I sat down next to some fellow housekeepers and started to help everyone fill out the necessary paperwork.

I wrote some smartass comments on mine just to show my disgust with this bureaucratic bullshit. I was okay with the Parkers (which I now had to write a weekly report on because they lived in a district that all homeowners and housekeeping want to see. What's so special about Logantown anyway?), Mr. Williamson, and Jasper. It was just all the bureaucratic rules of the Housekeeper's or should I say Housekeeping Association. Yes, they changed the name. More bureaucratic bullshit.

So, I learned that the name changed from Housekeeper's Association to Housekeeping Association, that I am required to write progress notes on the Parkers (I'll ask Godiva to write them for me. She's more normal.), and that I have to redo my fingerprints so that I can be stalked by the federal government.

There were mostly old ladies who were technologically-challenged at the meeting. There were only two males in the entire meeting, a 40-year-old black man who was a techno whiz and an ex-housekeeper and a 50-year-old white male who looked like a typical Georgia resident. The latter of the two was nothing to write home about.

The black 40-year-old techno whiz was named Ezekiel Daniels and the leader of the meeting. Yes, he was Jewish.

When we talked about the VA not paying any extra money for services, I loudly muttered, "JEWS!" Ezekiel laughed and went on with the meeting. He noted my disgruntled attitude toward the VA. Jasper has to forgive them for putting him in jail last year, but I don't. I can hate those murderous fuckers all I want. Because that is what the military is about: "legitimate" murdering. Jasper never killed anyone himself, but he sort-of maybe possibly thought about assisting many people in killing.

Mr. Williamson was a medic in the Gulf War, so he definitely never killed anyone. He had the only acceptable job in the military. So, I never brought up anything negative about the VA around him.

Shortly after I (accurately) called the VA a bunch of Jews, a black Millennial woman who was a CNA behind me kept commenting about how she used to work like an idiot until her kidneys blew out.

It was true. Most of us look like hell. Most of us were overweight. I sort of am because I'm 5'1 and 140 pounds. But there were some of us that were some serious fatties in that meeting. One was 5'2 and 200 pounds. That black bitch was a porker.

Anyhow, Ezekiel had mentioned that a housekeeper wasn't wearing a brassiere on that particular day and that we were required to wear "proper undergarments." My thought process was, "What? Were you looking at her breasts again? I'll give you proper undergarments. I'll put a bandaid on each of my nipples so that I could wear proper undergarments and you can fuck off. Most other countries don't wear bras or give a fuck, either. In fact, no other company gives two fucks about bras period. Obviously, these people are not concerned with their house being clean. Nor do they have hobbies to worry about their own shit.

In other news, women sometimes don't wear bras because they don't want to deal with breast sweat, and they are FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. She should have told him to wear a bra one day and see how the fuck he likes. Maybe she forgot because the Housekeeper-ing Association is so fucking stressful. Maybe she got titty-fucked rough, and her breasts were sore. Maybe she just didn't give a fuck anymore. Maybe we need something to talk about. In fact, why don't we for a change figure out how to make their houses shine even more. Seriously, I'm going to wear a bra anymore ever. And I am going to use my bras as cleaning rags. How the fuck would this piece of shit association like that?!"

I texted Jasper out of disbelief and frustration , "We changed the name of the Housekeeper's Association to Housekeeping Association. And I'm not wearing a bra anymore ever again. If people don't like it, they can fuck off."

There was a literal walrus woman at the front of the meeting who weighed 500 pounds. She was talking about clocking in and out. Could a bra even fit her? Seriously? How many bras would you put together to make her boobs not sag? I bet it would be at least five.

Jasper texted back, "What the fuck? What's the difference? Are you kidding me? By the way, good idea. I am sick of hearing women bitch about bras. This text brought horrible memories of my late wife talking about how she was hungry, hot, tired, and needed to take her bra off. Excuse me. I'm going to throw a fucking temper tantrum."

I texted back, "I haven't the slightest fucking idea. P.S. Sorry. I forgot about that. That makes me to burn my bras."

Some of the ladies were underweight and looked like skeletor. They looked like they needed a few sandwiches.

In short, it was a fuck-off meeting. I almost said "Fuck it", left my shit on the table, and left. Was there slight sexual harrassment? I want to burn my bras and then leave the ashes on Ezekiel's fucking desk.

In fact, when I left that God-forsaken meeting, I went back to work after and before throwing a temper tantrum. Upon further editing and reading and re-reading the account of this God-Forsaken meeting, I feel my tantrums were justified.

[arsnovac12]

Blog Post 1

I go on runs from time to time when I’m back in Burbank, I enjoy keeping active, but it’s mostly an excuse to get out of the house. When I come home on holiday, I become confined to my parents house without any means of viable transportation. I have my drivers license, sure, but no car. My parents can’t afford to buy me one, and I can’t afford to get one myself. In fact, even if I could afford a car, I certainly couldn’t afford the insurance to go with it. Anyway, all this is to say I go on runs so I don’t feel too confined to my house.

That’s not very interesting, is it? Some things just tend to be that way. The life of a poor twenty-one year old white kid is never all that interesting in the first place. My life, my story, whatever it is, is not irregular. In fact, it’s one most people in America know very well, because it gets championed whenever one of us poor white kids gets rich and famous. Surprise, surprise, it happens pretty frequently.

So why write about it? I don’t know. Does it really matter if no one sees it in the first place? Maybe not. I guess I backed myself into a corner. If you’re reading this (if anyone is reading this) you’re probably expecting me to dive further in. Ultimately, you might say, there’s no point in agonizing over whether or not you’re going to talk about your life, because you already started writing a blog post about it, and it has to go somewhere. It does, doesn’t it? So why start with a lengthy preamble full of rhetorical questions? Besides being a clear literary crutch I’m struggling with, I think I feel indebted to having a conversation or dialogue about these things, as if to hide from some private guilt I have in telling any personal story. Writing has clearly become some sort of therapy to me, where I play both doctor and patient. The results are always inconclusive.

Anyway I should get back to the bullshit lede about running. Look, I like running, and it’s when my head is its most clear, so forgive me for using it as a starting point. Most of my ideas come to me when I run, so it was only fitting that it become the brief anecdote that starts a blog post that holds the kernel of what I’m going for. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t really get to. Look at me, whining before I even finished my “insignificant thing is contorted into something profound” anecdote. Okay, I’ll finish the story:

I like to go on runs. I feel trapped at my house, and I like to get out. Anyway, whenever I run, I take the same path. It leads away from my house towards the park in the hills where people would take their prom photos back in high school. The path mostly runs parallel to the major streets and hits several large intersections on its way. In all, the run from the house to the park and back is about five miles. Yesterday, I reached the park and stopped for some water. This wasn’t irregular or anything, but I took my time and drank more that I usually would. Then, something compelled me to keep running. The hills in Burbank are filled with expensive homes, and near the top of the street, sort of tucked away, there’s a pretty large mansion that’s almost gothic in its design. Anyway, I guess it was my curiosity that drove me to keep going. To get a look at that mansion, and the others around it.

So, I kept running for another half mile or so to see this mansion. On the way up, the houses got larger and more impressive looking, and I was filled with a mounting sense of dread. Eventually I reached the cul-de-sac with the house on its end. Naturally the street, called Viewcrest if you can believe it, was the most decadent one yet. Their driveways were filled with expensive cars I don’t know the names of, carefully manicured lawns, and about ten security cameras lining every porch. I got closer to the end of the street where the imposing mansion was, but it was tucked away from the front and hardly visible. I didn’t get much closer than fifty or sixty feet. The drive way had a large black Hummer sitting in it; another, more psychological warning sign for someone like me to keep away.

I left pretty quickly after I got there. No one was out, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being unwelcome. Before I turned the corner and left the street completely, I had the strange desire for someone to come out of their house and scold me for even coming there. In this fantasy, would I stand my ground, or run away as is fitting for my station? My brain firing it’s typically small amount of synapses couldn’t quite make it that far. Instead, I was caught up in the swell of what righteous injustice such a thing should muster.

This story isn’t very interesting, I know. Nothing really happens in it and there isn’t much imagery to it, but it caught me off guard as I thought about it again today. I had the idea to write about the experience soon after it happened while I was still running, but I, ever the proactive one, put it off. In sitting down with it today, I realize how full of shit I am.

Before I go on, I’ll give a little more context for my life. As mentioned briefly before, I’m a poor white kid. My parents are loving if occasionally abusive, or maybe abusive if occasionally loving. We live in my (deceased) grandmothers house and can’t afford any necessary repairs on it to make the place livable. My dad lost his job about a year and a half ago that was going to take him to retirement, now he works at target. My mother is a hoarder, not to the extreme you may have seen on television, but certainly well beyond what the general society might deem as healthy. She works just enough hours at the Disney Corporation’s day care so that they don’t have to give her full time benefits.

Two of my adult brothers still live at home, crowding the house further. They could, should they allot their funds correctly, afford to have their own place, but my parents discourage that sort of thing. Coming from lower middle class families, both of them have really only known economic uncertainty their whole lives. To have their children live lives separated from themselves means certain uncertainty. Plus, when you don’t have the kids at home, there’s no one left to accuse of being a burden.

I, more than any of my brothers, struggled against my parents to have a normal life. For a while I was pretty damaged; my parents fundamental conservatism really did a number on me. I was a hateful kid, saying cruel things to people that didn’t deserve it. When I got to high school, it took a little while, but I became a better person. Still prone to bouts of selfishness, I began to try a little harder for things. I quit running competitively in high school to join the theater, much to my parents chagrin, and also started dating. Naturally my parents tried putting a stop to both.

By the time I finished high school, I had cut ties with most everyone that knew me there. By its end, I had partially realized that I hadn’t progressed all that much as a person and was still rather selfish. My assumptions that people did not like me were eventually proven correct when I had finally done something that had made me worth disliking. I receded further into myself, even more aware of my deepest flaws.

Eventually I made it to college where I became more depressed than I had ever been before. Towards the end of the semester, my mom ordered me to call after weeks of ignoring her. During that phone call, I told her that I wanted to kill myself. Horrified, she said that they could afford to send me to therapy, I said no, it would be too much of a hassle and it would get to be too expensive. She was relieved and thus the matter was settled and never spoken of again.

So today, I sit in my crowded bedroom in my decaying house (yes, there are rats now) and try and write a story, a true story, about how running in the rich part of town made me sad. So often I am desperately seeking a new lede, some way to ease into the story of my life, so I come up with the flimsiest ones imaginable as opposed to just starting from the beginning. I’m no one I tell myself, so why bother in the first place? No one will read it anyway. But so often, I’m met with the same dull idea that I have a story worth telling. The cynic in me is so embarrassed to want to explain away my life that it has to invent a dialogue with no one to justify wanting to tell an over told story. The poet in me wants to make something beautiful out of my life, and will find any excuse to do so in the most meaningless of events. The realist is here with you trying to make sense of these two voices.

I am obsessed with artifice. Look anywhere in my life and you’ll see it. I’m a theater performance major. I sit at home alone and watch movies that very few people like to gage some sensationalist position on. I go running by major streets hoping that someone, anyone from my past will see me and say hello. I run to the park I took my prom pictures at for the hope that some ounce of high school happiness will be absorbed back into myself, so that I can pretend I didn’t lose all my friends from those years by being selfish. I run further into the hills because deep down I know it might lead to something worth writing about. Only to now finally realize there wasn’t much of a story there to begin with. There, or anywhere.

Self pitying is probably what most people would call this. I’ll probably call it that too. Maybe it’s a cry for help. Maybe. Or maybe it’s a desperate plea for attention from an empty audience, because the author thinks that’s most poetic of all.