#and the introductions... IT TOOK ME TWO WEEKS TO REWRITE IT BECAUSE IT WAS EVEN LONGER BEFORE...

[a-pretentious-bastard]

Fahrenheit 451

Good evening,

For the first time in years, perhaps since I was ten or eleven (which would be an astonishing 8-10 years now) I have finished a book. I did not read it because I was told, or because I wanted to be looked at as the sort of odd, intelligent person who reads for whatever reason, which for the entirety of my middle and high school years seemed like a hobby only pretentious bastards would have, because what could you possibly find in a book that could not be found in a movie, then show, then youtube video, then tiktok.

Well, I believe I found the answer. On May 5, 2025, I finally picked up a book I had purchased months earlier with the intent to read it, which had been collecting dust on the floor of my wreck of a bedroom since, and I took it to work. And I spent maybe twenty scattered minutes reading Neil Gaiman's introduction to Fahrenheit 451, the 60th anniversary edition, and it hit me like a train. Within a few pages, I laid the book to rest for the day. By Friday evening, I had finished up to page 66, an average of less than 15 pages per day. Abysmal, really, in my childhood I would read a book of this length in a night. A Mango Shaped Space, the book I likely read the most times in my childhood, would be devoured in the span of a night or two, read only before bed by the light of my small bookmark-flashlight I had gotten from the school library, which would be tucked under my pillow if I heard the faintest creak of a floorboard, for fear of being caught. It was a depressing realization, how poor my attention span had gotten since I stopped reading as a kid. I was reading much slower than I used to, much less, yet it felt as if I was a voracious beast, consuming the pages faster than the fire Bradbury writes.

Saturday, the day I designate not to take my vyvanse, and allow myself to rest, I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I had an itch for the duration of the day. Not the sort of itch I get from my allergies, and not the urge to do that my vyvanse gives me. But it was like a voice whispered into my ear, read, Raph. Open that book, smell the pages, and consume. Devour. And, I sort of did. I opened the book to page 67, the beginning of The Sieve and the Sand and after pushing through ten pages, the hour ticking to the point of yawning punctuating each page, I slowly became hypnotized. Entranced. The time ticked by slowly, I felt, until I reached the end of the section, and realized that I'd read about 40 pages, the entirety of the section, in a few hours. My progress was slow, yes, but one must account for the fact that as I read, I truly wanted to comprehend the text, to understand it. So I would underline things, write my questions, if I encountered a word I wasn't 100% certain I understood, I would pull out my trusty Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (Eleventh Edition), the physical copy I purchased this week to reduce distractions, and I would find the word, rewrite the appropriate definition on the page next to the word. I find that writing in books, despite my detestation for annotations in high school English class, actually does aid my understanding of the book, at least when I do it my way.

I eventually tired, scribbled some notes in my handy-dandy Composition Notebook, one of those ones with the marbled black and white cover that reminds me of my childhood, where I now scribble my questions and thoughts haphazardly, spent a few minutes on my phone, and subsequently passed out. That is the only word for how I sleep, nowadays. I do not allow myself to rest, I find distractions until my eyes grow so heavy that when I blink, I forget to open them back up again. I do that one or two more times, until I tuck my phone under my pillow and lose consciousness.

Sunday, my mission was to simply finish section three of the book, Burning Bright. That was the section where I entirely stopped even trying when we had been assigned to read this book in class. I finally hit the point where I did not know what would happen. For the first time in months, I did my laundry, not because I was out of clean clothes, but because there was laundry to be done. I walked my dog twice, soon to be thrice once I finish writing this pointless post for this pointless blog. And, for the first time since picking up this book on Monday, I opened it, not because I was about to go to bed, and not because I was looking for something to fill the time between customers at the shop I run, but because I wanted to. I have better things to do, more entertaining things to do, but I opened the book. And I read the section. And then I read the History, Context, and Criticism included at the end of the book. Everything from pages 107 to 249, all 142 pages, more than I'd read in the 5 days prior combined. And then I wrote notes about it. And then I started a blog about it. And now, I am changed.

Fahrenheit 451 was the best possible choice for my first book back. I had tried to make Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy my first, I'd considered even digging up my old copy of A Mango Shaped Space or Hatchet because I know I love those books, but something drew me to this book. And, like a moth to a flame (get it?) I listened. And the flame burned me up, and made me feel vulnerable. I used to read books for entertainment, or out of boredom, to fill that void of terrifyingly macabre thoughts that have plagued my OCD-riddled brain since I was not four years old, and began to contemplate my own mortality before I ever spoke to anyone aside from my own mother, and on rare occasions, my father or grandparent. I still experience the same, debilitatingly dark thoughts, yes. But this book has taught me to embrace them. This book has taught me to be an idiot, a fool, that I will not learn everything, but I should continue on my quest to learn everything. That I should speed up, yes, but also slow down, that I was not built for this much mindless information pumped into me. I feel as if this book is the black cobra that has been slid down my throat to pump up the inky black liquid of my being. And this book has made be go outside, and when I inhaled the air outside, I was filled with something new. I am renewed, from the inside out. This book has not changed my life, but given me life. Perhaps I am in a manic state, as a friend of mine joked, but I feel like the phoenix Granger describes. Or humanity as a whole. I have died, been burnt to ash, perhaps I was dying this whole time, my entire life a slow death, a descent into nothingness. And this book has made me felt as if I am new. It's strange, in the month since I turned 20, my average screen time for a Sunday has gone from a revolting 14 hours a day or more, to 5, with the promise of continuing to decrease. I have not had any changes in my life, I work just as much, if not more than before. But it's like I have woken up.

This isn't really a book review, it's a life review. I feel as if I need to tell people, tell someone, anyone. We aren't supposed to feel like this. Scrolling from one post to the next. If Ray Bradbury saw who I was a week ago, saw what I did on a daily basis, I think he would grab my wrist and press his thumb into it, to check for a pulse. He might press an ear to my chest, listening not for the beating of a heart, but the grinding of gears, the soft hum of electricity, as if I was no more than a sickeningly lifelike automaton. I hated Mildred throughout the book, yet the more I read, the more I realized I was her. I was the epitome of everything Ray Bradbury was warning us about. But then, he told me how Montag woke up. And I felt as if I woke up with him. And now I want to stay awake, and read. I was looking up people who read lots of books in a year, and I felt something strange. I saw people claiming to have read 60 books a year, and when I read their guides on how to achieve something similar, I felt almost nauseous, seeing them recommend only reading a book once, not focusing on the heavy details, not contemplating the meaning. And to pick shorter books—blasphemy! While I am the concept of overachieving personified, I cannot imagine reading like that for the sake of a higher book count. Why, at that point, pick up children's books and read a dozen a day, why don't you?! I suppose I just cannot understand reading if you don't intend on growing from it. Gaining something from it. Satisfaction, yes, but... is that it?

If you've actually read my incoherent ramblings, congratulations, you've got a greater attention span than I. I would tell you to read a book, but clearly you are doing much better than myself, so perhaps you don't need to. Or perhaps you already have. Regardless, thank you for entertaining me.

Sincerely,

Some pretentious bastard on the internet.

P.S. Was it just me, or was there lowkey some romantic chemistry between Montag and Faber? I don't know, maybe it's just me.

[shiroselia]

Guess who completely missed I've been posting on Ao3 for over a year now, so to celebrate that almost two weeks later, behold! Self-promo!

I know, I know, but I suppose since I've been going for a year(???) now I might as well give a little Summary on what the hell I've been doing over on the Ao3, and also have a bit of fun with it in the process.

So, who the hell am I? I'm Manda Shiroselia EquestrianEquivalent, and apparently I'm an Ao3 publisher now. Sentence I never thought I'd say, but here we are!

What do I write? Well, primarily I write for Fire Emblem, Honkai Star Rail, and Star Stable Online. More precisely, I'm a character dynamics connossieur, which means I'm mostly writing character interaction and/or ship-focused fics because that's what I find the most fun! I generally average about 3-5k on my oneshots, but there are shorter (and longer) ones, so if length is something you're particularly picky about, you'll have variety in there, promise.

My personal favourite choices of the Fire Emblem variety are, coincidentally, my two most recent Fire Emblem fics! Soft Pegasus Feathers, and Dream of Me.

Good stuff, fun times, huge self-reccs of mine.

In terms of HSR, well, I've written. a lot of those, but I'm particularly, well, well-known might be a stretch, but those of you who subscribe to JingFu might recognize me for my most popular fic, Better Luck Next Time, or for my newest piece of insanity, KONTORSRENOVERING.

Better Luck Next Time is probably the best introduction to my writing style you will ever find, especially since it's kind of responsible for me finding my style, and it's also incredibly funny, if I do say so myself.

KONTORSRENOVERING is a great introduction to my particular niche, which I like to describe as "It could've been a fanart, but I'm glad it's a fic." If you read it you'll know exactly what i mean by that! Both of them are fics I hold very near and dear, so obviously I recommend each of them in particular.

And as for what I write for SSO? Well. I don't know if you have ever sorted that tag by word count, but if you have, you might have come across a certain little fic called A Quintessential Jorvegian Summer Vacation.

Which is, well, a lot of things. It's the entire reason I started publishing on Ao3 to begin with, my life's work pretty much, arguably my magnum opus really, and the entire reason my friends both discovered and has since never let me live down how fucking nuts I am.

It is the most taxing out of all my works, since, you know, check that chapter count:word count and you'll understand. I'm currently in the middle of reposting the last 4 chapters, because yes I've rewritten every single one of the first 24 chapters and counting, and once that is done, I'm going to rewrite the entire fic. Which is really just a first draft into a second draft, but considering how much I've changed as a writer throughout the 10 months I wrote this behemoth of a fic (first draft clocked in at 280k words so you can imagine how much effort this fucker took), it needs some maintainance.

With that being said, even if you don't know what the fuck a Star Stable Online is, I genuinely suggest you check this out anyways, because I legitimately think it works really well as just a standalone horse adventure magic fantasy. And a tragedy. Apparently. Supposedly. According to my friends who know too much about this fic.

It's going to take a fuck ass while to publish this entire thing, and I talk about it all the time on this blog, but there is so much love put into this fic, and I'm not abandoning it ever, it will be published, mark my word.

So that's essentially a "quick" summary of what the fuck I'm doing over there at the Ao3s. This mentioned like half of the roster, so there are a few more things over there if you're curious. And there's more to come, like a lot more to come.

For example, I'm currently working on two longer HSR fics, one starring Himeko and Pom-Pom, and the other starring Jiaoqiu featuring Bailu and Lingsha. I've also gotten way too into Zenless Zone Zero, and I'm definitely going to write a few fics for that, so far every one of them featuring Nicole. Other than that I have a lot of silly Fire Emblem ideas lying about (most of them related to Awakening, which means more Chromia in particular), and I'm no stranger to just throwing out a fic for the hell of it, so you might even be surprised!

And with that, Manda out, and happy late Ao3 anniversary to me <3

[rapha-reads]

Unrelated things I manage to evoke in my thesis on Beauty and the Beast, modern fairy tales and self-love (titled From Folktales to Fantasy: Beauty and the Beast, Contemporary Rewritings and Self-Love), a list (caution, long post ahead):

Hayao Miyazaki's environmental tales.

In contemporary rewritings of folktales and fairy tales, these revised critical versions often follow the major issues of the time: the feminist tales of Angela Carter or Margaret Atwood of the 20th century are amongst the prime examples, but one may just as well cite Hayao Miyazaki's contemporary environmentalist and anti-war stories.

Arthurian Legends:

Nonetheless, ages change, people’s priorities change, ways of life change, and with these evolutions, heroes and stories mutate too. They evolve, but they’re never forgotten. King Arthur and Merlin are still household names, even after a millennia and a half of legends; their stories followed the times and took on new shapes to keep on meaning something to their audience.

Le Roman de Renart and "Le hérisson, le chacal et le lion" (the hedgehog, the jackal and the lion, a traditional animal tale in North Africa, Tamazight in origin):

Animal Tales are the first chapter of the ATU Index, going from ATU 1 to 299, in which the characters are talking animals usually interacting between themselves (think Roman de Renart or the tales of the hedgehog, jackal and lion in North Africa).

*On the subject of the hedgehog, the jackal and the lion, I really recommend looking up their stories. If you like cartoonish stories of the clever fox and the stupid wolf, Tom and Jerry style, you will like them.

Narnia (actually referenced a few times, the thesis does talk about Fantasy, but CS Lewis is quoted only the once):

In the dedication of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis wrote “some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again”. As the reader ages and grows up, the taste for stories also evolves.

Neil Gaiman (completely out of the blue, I just wanted to quote him at least once):

the classic tale of Beauty and the Beast with all its space left to creation easily lends itself to the new scene. “Fairy tales”, Neil Gaiman writes in the introduction to Fragile Things, “are transmissible. You can catch them, or be infected by them.” They are, in their most basic form, in the bare bones of their structures, the “currency we share with those who walked the world before ever we were here.”

Doctor Who (I will find a why to quote DW in any circumstances, just watch me):

“The Universe generally fails to be a fairy tale. And that’s where we [the helpers and the leaders, heroes, doctors, teachers] come in.” That’s where writers and storytellers come in. Crafting stories is recreating a kinder, more merciful and fair world, where good wins, evil is defeated, love is everything, good deeds are rewarded and bad actions punished, justice is served and honour is upheld.

Edith Nesbit's The Story of the Amulet + more Narnia, because I will also find a way to talk about the Pevensies:

Harper spends six weeks with Rhen and Grey, and when she comes back to DC, six weeks have also passed. This is different from most Fantasy novels which actions happens in both Primary and Secondary Worlds; from Edith Nesbith’s The Story of the Amulet (1906) to Lewis’ Narnia, the passage of time in the Secondary World never matches the passage of time in the Primary World—the Pevensies spent close to two decades being kings and queens of Narnia, and yet at their return in England, not a single second had gone by, and they were back to being children again, a fact that I have always found cruel; they were adults, competent and regal, soldiers, scholars and diplomats, and then they were back to being children, powerless and ordinary.

Yet another Narnia quote - in my defence, I use Tolkien's On Fairy Stories as one of my major reference, so I had to give some room to Lewis too - + me being very French:

C.S. Lewis does write that “adventures are never fun while you're having them” (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Narnia book 5), but après la pluie le beau temps—storms never last forever, and the adventure always ends. That is what Fantasy tells the reader: you will go through hard times, but there will always be joy to find after the sadness.

MeToo, Greta and Malala (I swear it makes sense):

Belle just wants to be left alone with her wood-carving tools. What introvert passionate about their hobby doesn’t understand that? Lucie wants revenge on the man who hurt her; that is the whole point of the MeToo movement. Nyx wants to save her people and is ready to sacrifice herself for the cause; real life heroines fighting for their ideals are the idols of today (Greta Thunberg, Malala Yousafzai…). Harper represents the everyday life of millions of poor, disabled people, not only in the USA, but across the world. Beast wants to be loved; don’t we all?

*I actually really love that one tiny paragraph.

The "we live in a society meme" (aka the beginning of the descent into madness of the writer):

In meme terms: “we live in a society”. And that society can be crushing, draining, destroying. How then does one uphold one’s sense of self and worth when everything conspires to ruin and empty one’s heart and mind? Even though the meme is originally absurd, it quickly became a satire of the world in which we live now, where there is no place nor time to slow down, to just breathe, to take care of others, to take care of one’s self, because there is always a bill to pay, a meeting to run to, a deadline looming close, a train to catch.

Queerness (by the way if you guys know any queer retellings of B&tB please send them my way):

Depending on one’s level of ease and comfort, the co-existing inside the community requires more or less efforts and concessions to one’s authentic identity and tastes. Consider, for example, the way homosexuality and any form of queerness have been and are still viewed in many parts of the world throughout time: the main history of the queer community is to hide away an authentic, personal part of who they are in order to stay safe within a larger community that discriminate against expressions of queerness.

The "mortifying ordeal of being known" meme (sos, the writer has lost the plot):

By agreeing to play the game and follow the rules, no matter how adverse to one’s authentic nature, we tacitly agree to be seen. There is another meme, that first appeared in an essay for The New York Times in 2013: “the mortifying ordeal of being known”. The full quote goes like this: “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” In essence, trying to hide and conceal one’s authentic self is to deprive yourself from being truly known and loved for who you are; it is to take the risk of being only superficially known and loved for who you pretend to be, the role you play, the mask you wear.

The "I can fix him" meme (what the heck is the writer talking about):

Here is a third meme, much more recent, born on Twitter in 2019: “I can fix him. I can make him better.” While the urge to help your neighbour is perfectly honourable, it can sometimes take on a sort of narcissistic veneer: it becomes no longer about the person you want to help, but about the power you can exercise over that person by turning them into the exact image of them you have, no matter if this image coincide with their authentic self or not.

Shakespeare (hell yeah, finally! Okay, it's not R&J, but still; who am I if I am not rambling about Willy):

The self is not a stable entity. It evolves, adapts to its circumstances, to the situation at the hand. “All the world's a stage and all the men and women are merely players” (As You Like It, 2. 7. 139), Shakespeare was already writing at the end of the 16th century. The deal has not changed. Everyone keeps playing a part that they believe is what society demands of them.

And finally... Kintsugi. Just for fun:

The Japanese art of kintsugi consists of repairing broken pottery with gold, letting the breaks and the defects visible, thus making them part of the history of the piece. Being broken therefore is not a sign of weakness; it becomes another sort of beauty, a sign of strength. The Beast’s curse breaks him down to his base nature, but ending the curse does not mean that the breaks disappear.

[drusill-a]

Yellowjackets finale long outburst below (spoilers obviously):

IMO, this episode was much better than the previous one (which was incredibly disappointing in terms of character development and the lack of important scenes that would have allowed viewers to understand their decisions).

I'm torn when it comes to adult Nat’s fate.

On one hand I'm really sorry that the storyline of a character who was suicidal and started finding meaning in life and overcoming grief ends like this. And what doesn’t help is that it was the second consecutive episode in which adult YJs storyline was poorly, shakily written. I mean the fact that almost all of them finally agreed to make sacrifice was terribly justified… Why did Tai and Nat suddenly change their mind????? Where’s any build-up to this??? I only really buy into Lottie and Van's motivations.

On the other hand - if the writers had to kill off one of the adult characters, I would nominate Nat myself, sorry! I love her in both timelines, but let's face it - they didn't give her any interesting storyline after s1. Adult Nat was also, in a way, the least morally grey and the least messed up of all of them (contrary to appearances) – and it made her the least interesting to me (although it's like choosing between my children).

Her death scene was in character and provided a meaningful conclusion to her arc. As a teenager she let Javi die to save herself, and it haunted her for 25 years. Therefore, as an adult she instinctively chose to shield another innocent young person with her own body, instead of letting another victim burden her conscience once again. This make sense for her character.

So I'm not completely convinced about killing her off (did they really have to kill any of them at this point?), but I'm also not particularly angry at the writers for that decision. It all depends on where they will take the storyline of the adult YJs from here. The only thing I would definitely change is rewriting most of the scenes involving the adult characters to make it clear why they are doing what they're doing, because the explanation of their behavior and motivations in the last two episodes was terribly lacking.

Moving on to smaller, irritating plot points: killing off Kevyn Tan while leaving Mustache Cop alive was incredibly annoying, especially considering that Kevyn wasn't a bad person and had a child, and just the sight of Mustache Cop gives me a rash.

Also until the end I had hope that Walter would turn against the YJs (or be used as a sacrifice) and that his presence in the show would be somehow justified. But no, it seems like they're just forcing heterosexuality on Misty :((( Elijah Wood seems like a fantastic person irl, and I'm almost sorry that I dislike his character so much. I could probably survive the unnecessary introduction of a love interest of the opposite sex just to prove that Misty’s into men. But the fact that his personality is a more irritating and less interesting version of Misty's is just unbearable. I can't stand this kind of lazy writing.

But I was right about Ben surviving the season!!!! I kept saying every week that they wouldn't get rid of him that soon, and I was right, even though the entire fandom was nominating him to kick the bucket every episode. Come on, he’s a character with a great potential and from the beginning there were two options: either they would give him a corruption arc, or he would stick to his principles and eventually become opposition for the rest of the team. In the finale they took a very interesting direction. The last scene with the burning cabin was fantastic, and I can't wait to see how this storyline unfolds. Maybe he’s still in that cave in the adult timeline xd

Long story short, the season wasn't half as good as it could and should have been, but the stronger moments are so impactful that it’s still my fave (currently airing) show.

[andromeda4004]

For the ask game! 5 and 15! <33 :D

For Morningstar Abbey:

5 - which part was hardest.

I don't often go through many iterations of a draft - I mean, I'll keep tweaking for as long as I have time, but it's rare for a draft to change substantially. There were two scenes in Morningstar that I had to scrap and redo. The biggest rewrite was in Chapter 16, with the introduction of the prophecies, where the story has to shift from period drama into slightly magical realism, and it took me a couple of goes to get the scene to work right. But the scene I worked on for longest before it was right was the ending of chapter 8, the game of piquet. This was a nightmare because 1, I've never played piquet, 2, I don't know anyone who does, 3, I don't even play any other card games, and 4, I needed to make the scene do a lot of character work. Even though the rest of that chapter was finished weeks in advance of the planned posting date, that scene wasn't done until about 12 hours before it went out, and I spent hours reading up on rules of a game I will never play, just in case there's a random reader out there who actually has real-life experience with it. So far no one has commented to say they have, but that's fine- in the end I was pretty happy with it, so it's all good.

15 - what did I learn.

Well, apart from piquet, and British 18th century military history, and a detailed mental map of Bath, the main thing I learned is that I can write a novel-length story in 5 months if I focus. My previous writing has been a very long novel which took over a decade, and included long gaps of no progress and hefty rewrites near the end to get the old stuff to match up with the tone of the new. I really would like to get back into writing my own IP, but there had never seemed to be time - I've proven to myself that I can make time when I want to. Downside being that writing on AO3 and getting regular lovely emails with kudos and comments is frankly addictive, and my IP can't provide that, so fanfic is winning right now! 😀 But the important thing is that I'm writing again - I had missed it.

Thanks for the ask!

[pivsketch]

back in february i was inspired by @minacoleta 's count the lights to make a wrestlestory of my own. i spent the last five months narrowing down every single concept i like and melting them all down in a crucible to pour into a mold to craft THE MOST SELF INDULGENT OCs i could possibly come up with. i think its probably embarrassingly obvious where all their little components and dynamics came from but whatEVER! whatever!! it rules, actually!!! make the most insanely self indulgent ocs you can think of and live a little!!!! its liberating!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway i dont have the constitution or patience or focus to execute an entire graphic novel so i'm just going to post their character introductions / plot premise under a readmore. its 1.3k words (JEEZ) and thats about as condensed as i could get it while still relaying their individual motivations and setting up ~The Main Conflict~ for a story im not going to get around to telling properly (SORRY). i still will post drawings and comics from time to time of them all being cute though (i have a backlog i didn't want to post until i properly introduced them. i didnt realize it would take so long for me to do so however.)

anyway heres the tl;dr summary of the members of two tag teams who are in a tag team tournament:

[TAGCEN]

TAGCEN is a wrestling promotion so dedicated to tag teams that their name is twice as long as your typical three-letter acronym wrestling company. They've been around long enough that their seasonal tag team tournament (aka: the main setting for the story) has somehow acquired a lot of prestige, despite their comparatively humble level of production. TAGCEN is mostly ran by a husband and wife tag team that is too busy running the show to wrestle nowadays: Cedric (most neurotic man who has ever lived) and Arsha (who loves chaos).

[Taggart]

One passion (wrestling) and one brain cell (dedicated to wrestling). Taggart loves wrestling so much he pulls his punches just so he can wrestle against his opponents longer. That's... the kind of guy he is. His overwhelming enthusiasm and lack of ~grandiose ambitions~ does tend to limit how seriously people take him, but he isn't to be underestimated: just because he's a genuinely nice guy doesn't mean he can't hit hard, and it also doesn't mean he can't take the hard hits either. That title of "brick wall" is not for show!

His tag team partner unexpectedly had to leave in the middle of the season, which left Taggart in a bit of a bind as he isn't allowed to work the rest of his matches all by himself (it is a TAG TEAM CENTRIC WRESTLING PROMOTION after all). Due to this, he manages to convince his ex-wrestler friend/roommate Basil to stand in as his tag team partner so he can finish out the season. Basil doesn't want to wrestle anymore and Taggart wouldn't want to force his friend to anyway, so Taggart just never tags him in and fights the matches 1v2. He loses, but its fine, with the time left in the season there's mathematically no way for them to get that much further than last place anyway.

Taggart's just glad to be wrestling, and he's especially happy that he (finally…) managed to draw his friend Basil back into the ring under the public eye. With a little more time Taggart thinks he can coax Basil into wrestling proper again, so long as… nothing comes up during this TAGCEN season… ha ha ha HA HA HA

[Basil]

Officially billed as "Ben Basil" with the title of "some guy", he is apparently some rando that Taggart got to fill in as his tag partner. Taggart never tags him in, so he usually just spends the entire time hanging out on the corner in a t-shirt and hat nonchalantly watching the match. Nobody's ever heard of him, and anyone who has seen him around just knows him as Taggart's weird friend that hangs out with him all the time. But! He is not just some guy Taggart found off the street:

Basil met Taggart back in wrestleschool after he had ditched his entire existing group of friends for reasons too elaborate to get into right now. Basil didn't know anything about wrestling and Taggart loves to talk about wrestling, so they ended up becoming extremely good friends.

Back then Basil was a copycat/mimic heel wrestler named Afterburner and really leaned into being kind of a dick! With nothing else to do, he just got really good at wrestling. This didn't last too long though, he eventually got caught up in his own head about being a bad guy (oops!) and retired comically early in his career.

Usually this is where Basil would pack up and go start a new life somewhere for the third time or so, but he MYSTERIOUSLY changed his mind this time around and decided to stick around instead. It's been like X years now and he still lives in the room he rents in Taggart's house, idly supporting Taggart's career by training with him and sparring with him and helping him do work at the wrestleschool and occasionally driving him to wrestling matches whenever he needs a ride.

For a guy who adamantly quit wrestling he sure still wrestles a lot.

Anyway…

[Samson]

a charismatic, mildly sardonic well-known top-tier veteran good guy. Samson is legit skilled and has been in wrestling for so long, everything has become a bit of a game to him. Things get boring if you win all the time, yeah? Effectively, this has (over the years) turned him into a bit of a wet blanket and low-key control freak about meta things like "narrative", whatever THAT means. He gets away with it, though, as he's usually raining on the parades of heels who deserve it, and is a generally entertaining guy.

Previously, Samson was the longest running title holder of the region's definitely not cursed and/or haunted solo Interstate Championship, which he eventually lost in a very exciting (but normal) wrestling match. His legendarily long title run had him being his usual Samson self the whole time, proving once and for all that there is nothing weird about the title. Wanting a fresh new challenge, preferably away from the definitely not cursed and/or haunted Interstate Championship, Samson set his sights on the tag team world.

Unfortunately while still in the process of deciding who to team with, he unexpectedly(!) lost a stipulation match to insufferable young upstart jackass Chip and now is obligated to tag with him. Samson is crafty enough that he doesnt lose unless he chooses to, so this… is… an unusual thing to happen to him. He's taking it in stride (or at least appearing to) though, as Chip is a pretty good wrestler himself so its not like its too bad of an arrangement. Besides, he's a man of his word. :)

In any case, the two of them actually get along, weirdly enough! Maybe Samson's just used to dealing with annoying heels. It's anyone's guess as to whether Samson is going to reform Chip into a good guy, or if Chip is going to do what holding on the Interstate Championship Title didnt do and finally tip Samson over into being a bad guy. There's a lot of people keeping an eye on the TAGCEN tournament to find out.

Of course that's how it was supposed to be going…

[Chip]

Competitive topcard rising star asshole guy who plagues every promotion you can think of. Talks a big game, and the worst part is, he can back it up. He really is some sort of insane wrestling prodigy, or something.

Bitter that he wasn't able to win the Interstate Championship off of Samson, Chip figured he could get his vengeance (and a tag team championship, eventually) by roping Samson into a tag team with him. Together, they've been wrestling tag matches all over to get enough clout to qualify for the big prestigious semi-invitational continental tag team championship. They were on track to win the (fairly notable) TAGCEN tournament to further these aims, but one day Chip realized who Taggart's new partner was, and, uh, well…

Chip also went to wrestleschool with Taggart and Basil, but was still trying to do something with his college degree at the time and gradually fell behind as a result. After they graduated, Chip hounded Afterburner (Basil) for a while in a rather one-sided feud and took some things Burner flippantly said to him extremely personally (like... he changed his ring name to Chip about it...). After a string of (frankly, embarrassing) defeats from him, Chip took a brief step back from wresting matches to reinvent himself. He buckled down to become extremely tough and cool, then came back ready as ever to finally kick Burner's ass once and for all.

…So imagine how furious he was when he found out the guy quit and disappeared from the scene while he was gone. Welp!!

Chip kept wrestling in the years since and became the insane jerk wrestleguy we know today. He moved on. Except not really. Seeing Afterburner (well… sort of) at TAGCEN after all these years has rekindled every single inch of fury all over again. Everyone else may not know or care about some wrestler dropout from X years ago, but destroying this guy (on equal terms) is everything Chip ever wanted. He just needs to figure out how to get Basil to fight him for realsies.

Of course, Chip being obsessed with fighting some jobber team instead of ranking up is not good for their tag team's prospects, and while Samson is a good guy, he does want to win…

[imaginemcyt]

sisterinnit!

cc!wilbur soot x tommy’s older sister

tw: language

note: this one uses specifically she/her pronouns, however, you can replace them with your pronouns. it won’t change the story at all. sorry that this is kinda shit but tumblr deleted my draft and i had to completely rewrite it so this is what i’ve got. hope you enjoy! <3

“y/n this is wilbur, wilbur this is y/n.” tommy gave the basic introductions with a bored look on his face.

“y/n simons, pleasure to meet you.”

“wilbur soot, the pleasure is all mine.”

as he shook your hand, you stared into each other’s eyes. he wore a small smile, that was almost a smirk. was it just you, or was there electricity when your hands touched? that had to be in your head, right? your gaze lingered on the other for perhaps a little too long before you let go of each other’s hands.

“now get out, y/n.” tommy pushed you towards the door.

•••

“y/n can you see wilbur out? i’m busy!”

wilbur looked at you with a smile, causing you to blush. you nodded and yelled back at your brother, “yeah!”

you led wilbur to the front door, opening it and stepping to the side. you looked at him to find he was already looking at you. he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.”

as you stuttered out a reply, he gave you that same almost-smirk and turned away, walking down your driveway.

•••

“what are you doing up?”

you jumped, not expecting to see someone in your kitchen at two am. then you remembered tommy had invited friends over.

“oh, it’s you. i… i can’t sleep. what are you still doing awake?”

you filled a glass up with water and began to drink it, putting it in the sink when you were done.

“tommy snores really loud.”

you both let out a light laugh at your younger brother’s expense.

“well, since we’re both awake, do you want to do something? we could watch friends? that’s all i was doing anyway.”

“that sounds great.”

you both made your way up the stairs and into your room. you sat on the bed and set up the laptop with the episode you were currently on. eventually you were laying down together watching joey do lunges in all of chandler’s clothes.

(like this ^^^)

you were about halfway through a second episode when tommy interrupted.

“what the hell are you guys doing?”

you both looked up at the tired gremlin child.

“watching friends.” wilbur gave him a cheeky smile.

•••

“hello?”

“oh! uh, hello…?”

“oh it’s you, wilbur!” you spoke over your brother’s headset while he was in the bathroom.

“y/n? hi! what are you doing?”

“well tommy’s in the toilet so i wanted to see who he was talking to. turns out it’s you!”

wilbur let out a chuckle. “it’s me!”

“GET OUT OF MY BEDROOM!”

“uh oh, gotta go!” you threw down the headset before running for your life.

•••

“y/n, hang out with us!”

you stopped at the doorway, looking back at the group of boys all sitting on the floor. jack manifold, tubbo, and wilbur all stared up at you.

“no, y/n, get out of my room.” tommy spoke from his spot on the bed.

“aww, why can’t she stay?”

“yeah, tommy, don’t be a dick, man.”

“y/n, stay!”

“no, y/n, leave.”

you looked nervous, being pulled in two different directions, before ultimately deciding that you had other things to do.

“sorry guys, i should probably go.”

a chorus of disappointed groans and “aww”s left the group before you waved and closed the door behind you.

you went back to your room, deciding to give your brother his space despite your loneliness and boredom. you knew you’d want the same from him.

you decided to mess around with your ukulele to pass the time. you played your favorite song, singing along quietly. it wasn’t long before a knock on the door made you stop.

“come in.”

the door opened and none other than wilbur soot popped his head in.

“hey.”

“hey. tommy asked me to tell you to shut up, but i think you sound lovely.”

you turned slightly pink. “oh, uh, thanks. tell tommy i’m sorry and i’ll keep it down.”

“no need, he’s a prick anyway.” he made his way to where you sat on the bed, taking a seat next to you.

“what are you playing?”

you smiled and told him about how it was your favorite song by your favorite artist and you loved how fun it was. he requested you play a little bit for him, so you did. when you were done, you started to talk about it a little more.

at least until you realized he wasn’t listening. he was staring at your lips, leaning in. you followed suit.

the door burst open, causing you two to spring apart.

“wilbur, what the hell is taking so long? and what are you two doing in here with the door closed?”

wilbur smiled at tommy. “playing music, of course.”

tommy gave a skeptical look, dragging wilbur out of the room with a “keep it down, y/n!”

wilbur stopped at the doorway. “by the way, i quite like hanging out with you, y/n.”

•••

“your hands are so tiny!”

“they are not,” you gasped. “your hands are just huge, probably because you’re a giant of a man.”

wilbur laughed. “put your hand up,” he instructed. he touched his to yours gently, showing off the size difference.

you both giggled before stopping and looking into each other’s eyes. he gave you a gentle smile and slipped his fingers in between yours, interlocking them and holding your hand in his larger one.

you looked back at him and smiled.

•••

you knocked on the door three times, and he answered not long after.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

“tommy thinks he left his sweater here and asked if i could drop by and pick it up on my way home.”

“oh yeah, one second.”

he disappeared for a moment before returning, holding your brother’s red hoodie. “here you go,” he said with a smile.

“thank you. sorry to bother you.”

“it’s no trouble. can i walk you home?”

you felt yourself heating up and smiled. “if you’d like.”

he nodded and grabbed his jacket. then you both started off toward the simons residence. you almost made it before it started raining.

it was light rain at first, so you carried on. however, it got heavier by the second, and pretty soon it was pouring on you two.

wilbur took off his jacket and held it above your heads. “we’re almost there, run!”

the two of you ran the rest of the way, only stopping once you got to your porch. you looked at each other for a moment, catching your breath. then you started laughing. you were both soaked and standing there like idiots, laughing at yourselves.

your laughter soon died down, and then you were just smiling at each other. he reached over to you and brushed a wet piece of hair behind your ear, getting it out of your face.

you weren’t stupid. you knew the look he was giving you was a lovestruck gaze, but you decided to play dumb.

“what?”

then finally it happened. after months of flirting and mutual pining, he closed the gap and kissed you. with his right hand on your face he crashed his lips to yours (a/n: that sounds violent but it’s not meant to be lol), pulling you closer with his left. you wrapped your arms around him, hands tangling in his hair.

passion mingled with desperation and you kissed long after you were breathless. you didn’t part until you heard a loud yell of disgust.

you instantly sprang apart with swollen lips and red faces.

“are you fucking kidding me? that’s my sister, man!” tommy yelled, glaring at wilbur.

he then looked to you. “and you, kissing my best mate?!”

you stood there shocked for a moment before coming to your senses.

“uhhh, I wasn’t kissing, were you kissing?” you said, turning to wilbur and praying to god he caught on to your obvious lie.

“no, i wasn’t kissing.” he shook his head.

“neither was i! see, no kissing here.”

“i’m not stupid,” said tommy, voice low and angry as opposed to the shock and disgust from before. “i saw everything.”

he then turned and walked away from the door, leaving you two alone again.

a moment of awkward silence passed. “i should probably… you know.” you said, pointing to the house.

“oh yeah, no, definitely.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“and look, i’m sorry if i ruined your friendship with tommy. i know you guys are close, and i hope he forgives you.”

he gave you a sad smile. “same here, love.” he then kissed your cheek and took off into the rain once more.

you went inside and tried fixing things with tommy, who refused to speak to you. after sitting outside his bedroom door for nearly an hour, you finally gave up and headed back into your room. you opened discord.

[your username]: tommy’s ignoring me. i’ve just sat outside his room for an hour and he refuses to talk to me.

WilburSoot: i’ll give it a go.

he did not speak to wilbur. tommy left him on read every time.

•••

tommy avoided you entirely for two weeks. he left the room if you walked in, and he wouldn’t speak to you at the dinner table. your mother was curious what was going on between you two, but neither of you would say anything about it.

finally, you’d had enough.

you asked your mother to call tommy out of his room, since he wouldn’t answer if you were to try. she did, just wanting you two to speak again. once he arrived in the living room, you jumped him. you grabbed him around the middle and threw him on the couch, planting yourself on top of him so he couldn’t run away. your mum left the room.

“hey, you asshole, get off of me!”

“no, tommy! enough is enough! you’re not leaving until you hear me out!”

“no, i don’t want to talk to you!”

“too bad because i’m not moving until you hear what i have to say! i don’t want us to keep avoiding each other like this.”

he went silent and thought about it for a moment, an angry and skeptical look on his face. “…fine. get it over with.”

you took a deep breath.

“tommy, you’re my little brother, and i love you. i’ll always love you, even when you hate me. just know that i never meant to hurt you or make you angry. however… you can’t tell me how to live my life, or who i can be with. i want to be with wilbur. i can’t help it, tommy, i love him. you can be happy for me or not, that’s your choice. but what isn’t your choice, is who i love.”

by the end of your speech, your voice was shaking and your eyes were watery. you got off of tommy and helped him sit up.

his face softened. “you… you love him?”

your tears ran down your cheeks. you nodded. “i do.”

tommy sighed before pulling you into a hug. it was rare for him to show affection, especially to you, but after everything that happened between the two of you, he felt it was important.

“i love you, y/n. you’re my sister, i could never hate you. i’m happy for you. but just know, best mate or not, i’ll castrate him if he makes you sad.”

you laughed, wiping away your tears.

“i should… probably speak with wilbur, yeah?”

you nodded. tommy stood and went back to his room. you followed not long after, and even though you knew it was frowned upon, you stopped to listen at his door.

“tommy, thank god you’re speaking to me. listen, man, i–”

“do you love her, wilbur?”

“what?”

“my sister. do you love her?”

“i– yeah. yeah, i do.”

“good. listen, all i want is for y/n to be happy. meaning if you make her cry, i’ll murder you.”

wilbur chuckled on the other line, making you smile.

“you won’t have to worry about that. i promise you i’ll take care of her.”

“just don’t make my sister cry and don’t be gross in front of me, alright big man?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal, tommyinnit.”

you smiled again before heading off in the direction of your room.

[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

[narukoibito]

Hi! Can u do a Hinny ghost AU or something like that please? I was thinking of Hinny moving into a new house and James, Albus or lily seeing ghosts or demons. Happy Halloween! 👻 🎃

Happy Halloween, anon! 

Oh my, what a prompt! Well, I don’t really do scary stories. At all. Because I am certainly not Gryffindor for a reason. 

But you did get my head thinking, and I came up with over 1,500 words of this silly story. I am really bad at writing drabbles and not full stories it seems, but I rushed the ending because oh jeez, this piece is ridiculous and I was planning on writing other things today, haha! Maybe I’ll come back and rewrite the end one day, but eh, I had fun and was ready to move on.

Summary: Hinny ghost AU, where Harry and Ginny move into a new house, only to discover a ghost that grows a little too attached to one of them, much to the annoyance of the other.

*

An Over-friendly Haunting

“Ginny, I got the takeout you like,” Harry called from the door, already toeing his way out of his trainers. He could hardly contain his excitement. His wife — wife, what a glorious word! — was waiting at home for him.

Their home.

Of course, they had lived together before they got married. Ginny didn’t even pretend that she would stay with Hermione in-between her Harpie training and matches, much to Molly’s chagrin. But that was different. That was Ginny staying at Harry’s place. This was official. This was the brand new home of the Potters.

Harry’s heart still did a little thrill at the thought.

Expecting to find his new wife alone, perhaps unpacking (likely more lounging), awaiting him and food, he was surprised to hear her laugh and the sound of another, foreign voice.

“Ginny? Were we expecting company?” he asked, walking toward the source of the voices in the kitchen.

Harry nearly dropped the food at the sight of Ginny and a regal-looking woman. Coiffed hair; elegant, if old-fashioned robes; pearly-white skin; and cold, silvery eyes that seemed to send chills down his spine.

Oh yes, and did he fail to mention that she was translucent?

“Harry!” Ginny cried in joy, raising from her seat to take the Chinese from him. She took an excited sniff, savoring the steam that escaped from the containers. “Merlin, please tell me that you got the steamed dumplings. Oh yes, you did, I knew I could count on you.”

As she turned away to set the food out on the table, he could hear her hum in pleasure over the receipt. Only 20 quid for all of this!

“Er, Gin? Forgetting something?” Harry cleared his throat.

“Hm?” Ginny looked up in the midst of popping of one the dumplings in her mouth. “Oh, yes, this is Amelia. Amelia, this is my husband, Harry.”

Amelia gave him a cool one-over, her bloodless lips curling up slightly. “A pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said weakly, his eyes darting to Ginny, who had gone ahead and dug into the lo-mein after these introductions. “Gin, can I, uh, speak to you for a moment?”

Both Amelia and Harry watched as Ginny finished slurping up a particularly long noodle. “Sure thing.” She turned to Amelia. “We’ll be back.”

Amelia gave Ginny what seemed to be a genuine smile. When she caught Harry looking, the warmth immediately disappeared, replaced instead with annoyance. Irritation flashed through Harry. It was as if Harry had interrupted her time with Ginny, rather than her interrupting their newlywed bliss.

The moment the door closed behind them, Harry cast a quick Muffliato.

“She’s a ghost.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Auror Potter?”

“Ginny,” he said, trying not to laugh. “Seriously.”

She gave a little helpless shrug. “I encountered her while trying to clean out the attic. Apparently, she comes with the house.”

“I knew that relator was a little too eager to give us the keys.”

Something had been niggling at him, the overeager way the witch had jumped at the young couple, the long time the cottage had been on the market. But Harry had been too enamored with the imaginary picture of Ginny (his wife!) curled up on the couch by the fireplace to heed his intuition. That, plus he had discounted it for the usual Boy-Who-Lived fame.

Harry sighed, pressing his fingers under his glasses to relieve the building pressure. “What do we do?”

“Well…”

He stopped and pulled his hand away, really looking at Ginny. Oh yes, this was a familiar look…

“Ginny…” he said, in a low, warning tone.

“She’s been alone for decades, Harry!”

“A ghost is not like take a stray cat!”

Speaking of which, the spotted stray Ginny had rescued during one of her away-games rubbed against their ankles.

“Freckles grew on you,” she pointed out, reaching down to lift the cat, which immediately returned her affections by rubbing against her cheek.

“That’s one word for it,” Harry said dryly, choosing not to point out how Freckles would start hissing at him when he felt Harry was taking too much of Ginny’s attention.

“She seems nice,” Ginny insisted, letting Freckles back down. “A bit cold at first, but she gets better once you get to know her.”

Harry sighed, his dream of escaping to their lovely abode just for the two of them starting to fade. “We can try, but if it doesn’t seem to be working…”

Ginny nods, taking Harry’s hands and placing a tender kiss against his lips. He let himself lean into her touch, the tension of the day and this latest surprise slowly ebbing out of his body. When she finally pulled away, he nearly made a sound of disagreement.

He slowly opened his eyes to see his wife gazing up at him, her brown eyes warm with affection.

“By the way, welcome home.”

Harry felt his lips tug up and pressed his forehead against hers.

Home. Wherever she was was home.

*

Despite Harry’s best efforts, Amelia did not warm up to him. If anything, she seemed to get colder if possible (he swears those two “accidental” times she walks through him, making him feel as if he were plunged into ice-water were on purpose).

To make matters worse, Amelia seemed unnaturally keen on Ginny. Aside from their bedroom, Amelia seemed to follow her everywhere.

Ginny explained one evening, wrapped in Harry’s arms, that Amelia had a phobia of men, and that it could have something to do with how she died.

But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more though. It was in the way Amelia seemed to bristle anytime Ginny was affectionate toward him. The way she looked at Ginny when she thought no one noticed, as if Ginny hung the moon. But of course, Harry noticed. 

“She likes you,” he declared after a month when they’re out at a Muggle restaurant considering Harry has been trying to find more excuses not to be at home (which only adds to his ire).

Ginny quirked her eyebrow, her eyes looking unimpressed at the way Harry had his arms folded over his chest. “Who likes me?”

“Amelia,” he said, the skin on his face feeling uncomfortably tight. 

“Well, yeah, I’m quite likable.”

“No, I mean she fancies you. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.” When Ginny burst out laughing, he scowled and looked away, the monster in his chest prowling angrily. 

“Oh Harry, are you jealous?”

“No!” he lied because he certainly wasn’t upset that Amelia was always there, like a perpetual third wheel. Over the past weeks, he’d started wondering how Ron and Hermione had tolerated him all those years. Not that they’d been together, let alone newly married. 

The look on Ginny’s face revealed that he had not indeed fooled her.

“She snapped at me when I tried to wake you up from your nap.”

“She knew I was tired.”

“I knew that too, but your mum was going to be upset with us if we were late again.”

“Amelia is a bit protective. Think of her like Freckles.”

“I don’t like it,” he repeated, thinking of those times she arrived home from training, all sweaty and glowing, looking utterly shaggable. She would immediately start stripping out of her wet things on the way to the bedroom. The monster roared indignantly at the way Amelia’s white cheeks had almost nearly flushed. 

“Even if she does,” Ginny said, her voice lilting with amusement. So kind of his wife to enjoy his pain. “You don’t seriously think you have anything to worry about, do you? For one thing, you’re alive. I quite enjoy touching you doesn’t give me pneumonia. And of yeah, you’re my husband who I love, so there’s no need to be jealous of the undead is there?”

“You don’t see the way she looks at you,” he grumbled. He straightened when an alarming thought struck him. “You’ve never been starkers around her, have you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t make a habit of stripping around her, no, Harry.”

“You wouldn’t like it if she were making googly ghost eyes at me,” he pointed out. It sounded childish even to him, even if he knew it was true. He had noticed the way Ginny had grounded her teeth when Gabrielle last visited.

“No,” she conceded, though it seemed like she was just saying that to placate him. She took his hand and lifted it to her lips. He could already feel his shoulders drooping. “I know she hasn’t been the friendliest to you. I’ll talk to her about it, okay? It’s your home too, and we’ll have to move if she continues to make you feel unwelcome.”

*

It ultimately wasn’t Ginny’s chat with Amelia that did it, nor her reluctant receding primarily to the attic for her living quarters. No, it wasn’t until two months later when a former Deatheaters had attacked their home. Amelia had distracted them long enough for Ginny to get in her favorite hex and several stunners before Harry and the Aurors arrived. 

For that, for potentially saving his wife from harm, Harry was willing to tolerate the unpleasant grumblings from his chest monster. And Amelia too seemed to recognize that a truce was the best way to stay close, lest they decided to move.

And it turned out all of Amelia’s protective swiping had been because she had recognized that Ginny was pregnant before they had.

When James was finally born, they asked her to be his Ghostmother. Amelia cried translucent tears all day. 

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #6

A/N: If anyone’s interested, the perfume Lizzie is wearing is one of my all-time favourites, Aqua di Gioia by Giorgio Armani. It’s really poorly described here because my olfactory recognition doesn’t go beyond ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but well. It’s divine though. Also, bear with me if sth astrological is wrong, this stuff is complicated! Katriona Cassiopeia (aka KC) belongs to my lovely friend @kc-needs-coffee

  Word Count: ~ 2.100

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 6: A New Perspective

As it turned out, Orion’s decision to name Everett Hufflepuff’s new Beater had been the right one. He still had a way to go, but he immediately fell in line with the rest of the team. What he lacked in precision, he made up in strength.

Orion had taking his individual training on himself. As the team’s captain, he saw it as his personal responsibility to ensure every one of his teammates was able to reach his full potential. Everett was a fast learner, but it would take him a few more sessions to even be remotely able to hold a candle to the Ravenclaw Beaters.

Rath and Cassiopeia had been a well attuned team for many years now, both as skilled a Beater as they came. They would need any protection against them they could get, and the match against Ravenclaw was approaching fast.

Although Orion wasn’t the type of person to let his mind be clouded by worries, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely sure they could get Everett into proper form in time. He had been voicing his concerns to Lizzie the other day, during one of their tutoring sessions. If anyone knew what it took to become a Beater in a short amount of time it was her.

Lately, Orion had found himself looking forward to their meetings in the greenhouse, despite his already tightly packed schedule. It was refreshing to discuss their team matters with someone that didn’t flood him with a multitude of statistics for a change. Lizzie had a different approach to things than him, but they weren’t polar opposites like he and Skye. Exchanging views with her had provided him with a new impulse more than once.

In fact, he had come to enjoy her presence in general, even more so than before. They had always been friends but his knowledge about her had pretty much begun and ended at the Quidditch pitch. Seeing her outside team meetings and practise had allowed him to get to know other sides of her. He’d had no idea Lizzie had been part of the duelling club until last year. Or that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects. Or that she used a perfume smelling distinctively of jasmine and mint.

Orion had a harder time bonding with her friend Rowan. He hadn’t had any points of contact with her before he had started tutoring them. Now, several weeks later, he still knew hardly anything about her. She seemed to be exceptionally smart, but also equally as shy. Most of the time she would consult her textbook about the plants he tried to teach them about, while Lizzie paid it no mind, listening to his explanations instead.

Orion couldn’t help his impression that Rowan was struggling with his unconventional style of teaching. He didn’t refer to books more than he had to, rather letting his instinct and experience guide him.

Having trained with him for years, Lizzie knew his way of conveying knowledge was not always straightforward. Rowan, however, had a hard time letting go of protocol. She was clinging to the academic theory as if her life depended on it. Following the rules could help with a lot of problems, but she would never master the delicate nuances advanced Herbology had to offer, if she wasn’t willing to tread paths unknown to her.

“And what exactly is the difference between dried foxglove petals and desiccated foxglove petals?”

McNully snapped him out of his thoughts and back to where they were sitting in the Great Hall. It was study time and most of the students were gathered at their House tables, brooding over their homework.

They had been discussing their latest Potions essay, covering the effects sourcing methods had on the quality of ingredients.

“That is what we are supposed to illustrate, I believe.” Orion dipped his quill into the ink bottle they were sharing and tried to pick up where his wandering thoughts had let him off. His eyes wandered casually across the other Hufflepuff students lining their table.

It lingered where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Lizzie was rapidly flicking through the pages of her textbook with a puzzled expression. Skye was talking insistently at her, looking equally as bewildered.

Several heads shot up as Lizzie audibly slammed her book shut and clambered off the bench. When Skye made no move to follow her, she jerked the other girl up off her seat and motioned with her head towards where he and McNully were sat.

They quietly walked towards the head of the Hufflepuff table. Seeing them approach, McNully reached for his wheelchair that was blocking the way. He moved it aside to allow the girls to join them. Orion smiled.

“What can we help you with?”

Wordlessly, Lizzie held up her copy of Unfogging the Future and slid into a seat between Murphy and him. She reopened the page she had been examining before and gave a frustrated sigh.

“I cannot tell you how much I hate Divination, I really can’t. You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Orion supressed a smile. “So I am told. What bothers you in particular?”

“It’s those bloody birthstones,” Skye explained. “No matter how often we go over it, Lizzie and I always come to different results and we can’t find the mistake.”

They handed him their notes and Orion quickly gave them a check before returning them.

“That is because both choices are correct. There is more than one birthstone for each of the zodiac signs. You both chose the right stone for the right sign, but in different parts of the time span covered.”

Skye groaned in frustration, earning her a chiding glance from Professor Flitwick, who was supervising them today. “What do you mean, more than one? Why can’t this stuff be straightforward for once?”

“Everyone is different and such is reflected in the stones fortifying our inner strengths. Why should there be so little birthstones when there are so many traits to represent?”

Both girls looked at him with blank expressions.

Patiently, he flipped the pages to one of the star charts at the back of the book. “The astrological year is divided into the twelve zodiac signs. Each zodiac sign is subdivided into three decades, meaning a set of ten days. There are additional factors to consider, but simply put, there are three birthstones for each sign, representing one decade each. That is why you come to different conclusions, you didn’t factor in the time of the month.”

He contemplated telling them about the stones meant to counteract each signs weaknesses. But seeing Skye pinching the bridge of her nose, while was Lizzie trying to process what he had just said, muttering “I hate Divination” under her breath, he decided against it. Better not too much at once.

“How do you know all this nonsense?” Skye was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know all this because it is explained in the introduction of the chapter you two apparently weren’t reading too diligently.” He turned the pages back to the beginning and pointed at the paragraph on the first page.

Lizzie’ cheeks flushed a bright read as she quickly scanned the text. “I can’t believe I overlooked this.” Embarrassed, she quickly snatched the book out of Orion’s hands and got up. “Thanks for helping anyway.”

They made their way back to their places, the scent of jasmine and mint lingering behind. Orion was always glad if he could help a friend. A few seats down the table, Lizzie was discussing what he had just told them with Skye. He thought back on what Penny and Murphy had said on the train ride to Hogwarts a few weeks earlier.

Lizzie really had changed a lot. She seemed to be standing taller, an air of effortless confidence around her. The blush on her cheeks had made her look really pretty, reminding him of how the rush of the wind brought the colour to her face when she was flying. She was moving differently as well, more graceful and fluently, her hips swaying ever so slightly with every step she took. He had never noticed her hips swaying like that before.

McNully nudged his shoulder. “Uhm, Orion… if you don’t want to rewrite your whole essay, I’d move my quill if I was you.”

He snapped out of it and looked down at his parchment. The ink was dripping from the tip of his quill, forming a large black puddle at the end of his last sentence that was quickly spreading onto the rest of his half-finished essay.

Orion cursed under his breath, immediately drawing his wand to vanish the excess ink. Fortunately not too much of his work was ruined.

McNully raised his eyebrows. “Such a strong language, my friend. I have only heard you curse three times, so far. One time was when you crashed your broom into the commentary box and broke your wrist, the second time when you forgot the time while broom balancing and almost missed your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam and the third time when you burned yourself on your cauldron and spilled Wiggenweld Potion all over Professor Snape. This reaction is 87,9 % surprising.”

He felt the heat creeping up his neck. McNully was right, he wasn’t easily enticed to displaying his emotions verbally. He hadn’t meant to let himself slip like that.

Choosing not to answer his curious friend, he committed himself to restoring the missing part of his essay. But McNully wouldn’t let it pass like that.

He was nodding in the direction of Lizzie. “I wonder if she knows how much attention she is attracting.”

Orion gripped his quill a little tighter, concentrating on finishing his sentence. He fought the urge to follow McNully’s gaze.

“Our friend has a captivating personality, for sure. But would you mind lifting the veil of ignorance from my eyes and tell me how you reached such a conclusion?”

For a moment, McNully smirked knowingly before he directed Orion’s attention over to where their roommates were sitting. He could easily make out what McNully had been referring to. Everett was eyeing the girls up without even trying to conceal it.

“Him, of course. He’s been checking Lizzie out ever since she came over to us.” He smiled innocently at him. “Why, who did you think I was talking about?”

Orion’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the predatory look on Everett’s face. This guy had somewhat of a reputation.

“Yeah, I don’t like the looks he’s giving her either,” McNully echoed his unspoken thoughts with a scowl. He leaned closer to him, putting his elbow on Orion’s shoulder in conspiratorial way. “I think we should do something about it, don’t you? And by ‘we’, I obviously mean ‘you’.”

Shaking off McNully’s hand, Orion gave him a disapproving look. “And why would I do that? He is our new Beater if you don’t recall.”

“For the sake of the team, of course!”

McNully started reciting his calculations. “I’d put the chance of him going for our little Chaser prodigy at roughly 80 %. There are some variables unaccounted for, but I’d say the chances of Lizzie falling for him lie at something around 54 %. Which would affect the team’s dynamic gravely. And we can’t have that decreasing our- I mean, your odds on winning the Quidditch Cup.”

Orion blew onto his parchment until the ink had properly dried. “You talk as if he was actually hitting her up. All he did was looking at her.”

And there was certainly nothing wrong with looking.

“Lizzie can fend for herself if need be. Besides, who am I to interfere with the course the heart is deciding to take.”

McNully looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Mate… I don’t think the heart has much to with it if you get my drift. Seriously, do something.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He stood up and handed Professor Flitwick his work of the day.

McNully raised one eyebrow at him. “And what would that be?”

Orion gathered his strewn books and notes. “Finding balance inside and outside of my mind, my dear friend. See you at dinner.”

[bryanastar]

Short Story Introduction - The Lotus Motel

No light ever crept through the barred windows at the reception area of The Lotus Motel, and there was no electricity to luminate the shattered bulbs. The motel owner had only the glow of dim candles to guide him in sweeping the floors and dusting the front desk. The room was small, so small in fact that it could barely fit the desk and the chair, Still, it took him the better part of an hour to clean the whole room, or at least he thought it did. He could clean for days, and he’d think only minutes have passed.

———

Howdy Tumblr! Here we have a decently different short story except than what you all may be used to. Very reminiscent of my old writing style (back when I thought this was the height of description and atmosphere lmao). That isn’t to say I’m not proud of it. It’s just... unlike any projects I have on my roster currently.

With that out of the way, let’s get on with the introduction! (Full post and story link under cut)

Genre: Mystery/Surrealism

Word Count: 1340

Publisher: The Graveyard Zine

Musical Inspiration: Hotel California

Synopsis:

A mysterious man who runs a strange motel supposedly famous for it’s intoxicating tea welcomes three new tenants for the night, along with a cup of his lotus tea.

Project History:

I first wrote this story for my English I Honors class in Freshman year of high school. We were doing a unit on The Odyssey, and the final project was to either make a video/mini-movie summarizing part of the epic, or rewrite a portion of the story from the villain’s perspective.

Obviously, I went straight for the latter.

The story I chose was “The Lotus Eaters”, though the rewrite itself was only a very loose retelling (which I’m sure you’ve already gathered from the title, cover, and synopsis). Still, because I kept the core elements (that being x thing being consumed makes Odysseus’s men have amnesia and never want to leave), I still got full points (with my teacher even complimenting my writing style and humor).

At the time, this story was the best short story I’d ever written, and, even now, it’s still one of my strongest pieces. It’s one of the first stories that actually gave me the confidence to continue writing and to try to actually do stuff with it. It was also one of the first times I’d ever gotten complimented for my writing (outside of my family of course). Plus, I was just passionate about the project in general, even if I (at the time) didn’t plan on doing anything with it.

Fast forward to 2021 when I actually become serious about trying to get my writing published and I finally decide to try and get this story published. I at first planned to just leave it in the drawer since it wasn’t at all what I was really interested in writing now, but then I just went “screw it” and decided to start submitting it. I first impulsively sent the piece to a literary magazine called Body Without Organs Journal... whom I never heard back from (I ended up withdrawing the piece regardless). I don’t think they got my email, which is pretty awkward, but I do plan to keep this journal in mind whenever I have another piece that fits the word count.

The second journal I sent this to was Juven Press, a literary magazine run by teens for teens, during their 24 hour submission period where I’d learn whether they accepted or rejected me 24 hours after submission. The theme was untold/retold, and, considering my piece was a retelling of The Lotus Eaters, I thought my piece had a pretty good shot.

Yeah. It did not.

I actually got feedback for this piece from Juven Press, and they actually didn’t have much to say (other than that they really enjoyed the story and thought it had a pretty good chance of finding a home somewhere else). They were mostly confused on how the story fit the theme of untold/retold, which actually reveals a tiny problem with the piece.

If you removed any mention of the “lotus” in the story itself, it would definitely be impossible to tell that it’s supposed to be a Lotus Eaters retelling. Due to that, it’s been very hard to market in the short fiction market as I don’t really know what genre to put it in. It’s certainly genre fiction, and has a lot of surrealist elements, but it’s not exactly a surrealist tale. It’s not a mystery (or at least not one where the mystery gets resolved at the end). It’s not horror, even if the concept is kinda creepy. It’s just a very strange anecdote in a very strange setting with very strange characters. Not that that’s a bad thing. It just makes it hard to market and know where it will fit.

So yeah, I shopped this story around for a good long while. After I withdrew my piece from Body Without Organs, I sent it off to a magazine called Theme of Absence. I did hear back from them after a month had passed and I queried about my submission. They said I should hear back in at least three weeks.

Then another month passed and I still heard nothing.

After that, I decided “to hell with the ban on simultaneous submissions!” and submitted my story to two more magazines. I didn’t think much of them and a day passed. I was scrolling around on this app called RoundPier (think LinkedIn but for overachiever high schools kids trying to get into T20s) and I saw this submission call for this new literary magazine called The Graveyard Zine. They were student-run and had only published a single poem.

I sent my story in purely for the name alone.

I heard back from them literally the next day. They said my piece would be published in 1–3 days. I made an Instagram post on it. They commented and added me to their story. It was pretty nice and chill. They’re a super cool bunch of people and I really hope their magazine blows up in the near future.

After I got the news that I was being published again, I immediately sent my Freshman teacher a text to tell her the news, and, welp, she was proud. I was on the moon for the rest of the day (especially because I got a different email for a different short story that had been accepted).

I was super excited to see it get published, because I never thought it would due to being more genre fiction than literary fiction. For the longest time, I thought it was forever cursed to be cast by the way side just because it didn’t fit the standard convention of what a literary story was. It’s a great reminder that there is ALWAYS a home for your short story out there, regardless of it’s genre.

Here’s the link to that piece. I hope you enjoy it.

That’s all for now. See you next week Tumblr!

[juniartchive]

Besitos - Part 1

Synopsis: After Elle Evans, Marco found it hard to move on with his life. Can he found a way to forget the kiss they shared that day?

[Note: the lack of Marco's imagines (and the power he has to distract me) drive me to write this. I apologize in advance since English isn't my first language. Also, I made up the university in this fic so the college setting might be weird since I don't know how it is abroad. The girl won't appear in the first two chapter. I definitely should rewrite the summary later hhh)

prologue

tag: @mansaaay​ 

---

College life is rough. It is nothing like high school, nothing at all. It is confusing, tiring, and fast-paced. It is five projects in two weeks after you just started college. It is sleeping at 4 AM doing assignments and submitting it at 7 AM. It is treating coffee not as recreation anymore but a primary need to stay alive. It is leaving no space to play guitar and gaze on the sky to contemplate about life. It is busy, and Marco thank God for it.

His busy new life as a freshman in Avery University leave him no time to think about his high school heartbreak. Anyway, for the sake of his sanity, Marco decided he won’t say her name anymore. Pretty childish but whatever. It worked pretty well at making him forgetting everything about her.

Marco always thought he was that kind of guy who just look back at his past loves and said, “Ah, the first time I kissed her it was one of the best moment of my life. I wonder what she is doing right now,” while sporting a melancholic smile then goes to strum his guitar and play that one song associated with her. But hell, plenty of time he wished she broke up with that asshole Flynn and regret her decision choosing him over Marco. Months later that Instagram highlight of their relationship still posting updates.

Well… Not that Marco keeps tabs on their relationship, not at all. He was too busy, remember?

“Oh God, stoooop! You’re miserable dude!”

Marco immediately press the home button of his iPhone, stuttering.

“W-what?”

Michael, his roommate, have this “poor you” look in his face as he shook his head. He really hates it when that guy (or ANYONE) gave him that look.

“Seriously? Doing your stalking routine? That’s fucking creepy.” Michael shuddered. Too tired to defend himself, Marco just shrugged as he placed his iPhone on the coffee table. A little harsher than he intend to. Not that he cared.

Michael, still shaking his head and ticking his tongue in an exaggerated manner, walked in Marco’s direction with two can of beers on his hands. He handed one to Marco, chugging his own, ticking his tongue and shook his head even more.

“If only the girls in the whole campus know the great Marco Peña is a miserable guy who cannot moved on,” Michael paused to take a sip of his beer, “That’s actually a great content for Twitter. I think it will go viral.”

Marco immediately grabbed his phone before Michael put his hand on it, “Don’t you dare,” he warned, earning a laughter of the other guy.

“Come on, you should see yourself. After that long, boring lectures of Introduction to Basic Coding, instead of having fun, you choose to mull over your past love,” Michael stopped to think, “Oh wait, it never even started.”

God damn it, this guy is annoying. Marco really regretted that one night they shared drinks and leading them to spilled their heart content. It was mostly loneliness and homesick that drive Marco to told his story. Fuck Michael, luring him with that story where he got ghosted by a girl (which sounded pretty miserable too).

Marco met Michael on his first day in Avery. A over-friendly guy who get along with everyone. Marco labelled him as “people pleaser” because he always tried to please anyone. From fellow students to lecturers. His motto is: Network make the life Works. That sounded awful but Marco got it. Michael friendliness gained him few new friends as well. The guy’s also a great listener. Well, that friendliness also come hand in hand with the need to stick his nose in the place where he should not.

“Let’s see… hmm… Elle… Evans…” Marco rolled his eyes as he saw Michael typed El- her name in his own Instagram search.

“Woohoo, Elle, that is a nice swimsuit,” Michael whistled. Marco unconsciously peeked on his phone. That was a nice swimsuit indeed.

“Let’s see… hmm… Oh man, they’re still together, too bad.”

Newsflash Michael, I know about it already, inner Marco said.

“But look at that. What does she see in him?” Michael exaggerated another head shaking, “His chin looks weird!” Marco gave subtle nods. Gotta agree there.

“And those lazy eyes, God! Was he smoking weed when they took this picture?” Yeah, I thought about it too, inner Marco chimed in.

“You are far way better man, no doubt,” Michael gave a reassuring smack on his back. Hell yeah I am, inner Marco nods proudly.

“Her lost that she didn’t choose you,” Marco huff a laughter. It does feel like his lost though.

“Elle Evans was not worth it. Repeat after me.”

“She was not worth it.”

She was worth it, inner Marco chimed in again, desperately. She was always worth it. Damn, now he realized he is pathetic.

“Good!” now Michael gave another pat on his back. Thank God he cannot hear inner Marco. “You know what you need? You need to get laid. Dude, when was the last time?”

Marco shrugged, “I don’t know,” it feels like a long time ago indeed.

“Well, thanks to me, I got invited to this party. Basically everyone was invited but you are too busy brooding over Elle that you don’t notice that poor sorority girl whose eyes sparkled when she asked you to go. We should go tonight.” Michael jumped from the sofa then goes to his room. He came back with a wrinkled red Avery t-shirt that Marco realized his roommate had used the night before.  

Marco actually knew about the party, but he wasn’t in the mood. He was never in the mood. He also acknowledged every girls who made move on him, but he was also not in the mood to pay them any attention. Not when they were not the one he wished made a move on him.

“You need to stop thinking about Elle and moved on. Starting from tonight,” Michael said while doing failed attempt at straightening the wrinkles on his t-shirt with his hands, “You, Marco Valentin Pena, need to get your shit tonight and get laid.”

Michael was right. He is going to let loose tonight and maybe kiss a girl or two. He was Marco Valentin Peña, the famous MVP who swooned girls back in his high school years just by a mere smirk. Two-years-ago Marco would laugh at him if he saw his current self. No way.  

Nodding to himself, Marco went straight to his room, analyzing his wardrobe. Tonight he needed to get his shit together and forget her.

[reidology]

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 4) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid

Summary: Aaron and Spencer's first study session turns into something... cuddlier?

Word Count: 1,638

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 4: Spirits in my room, friend or foe?    

  Okay. This is fine. This is fine. Spencer is not freaking out. Sitting on Aaron’s bed, staring at the Blink-182 poster stuck to the wall behind a bong and- is that a fucking encyclopedia? - surrounded by the sights and smells of one incredibly intoxicating Aaron Hotchner. Spencer is decidedly not freaking out. No matter what the sweat on his brow may indicate. 

    The little alarm clock on Aaron’s desk was ticking ticking ticking, counting down from 30 with 5 minutes left. 5 minutes left. 

   They were studying. Well, Aaron was studying. Spencer was tutoring. Spencer was tutoring Aaron and Aaron was studying at his desk right now filling out a practice test that took Spencer no more than two minutes to write up and now he was waiting in silence for him to finish. Not freaking out.

    Nothing had happened when they got to the dorm. Aaron had simply shown him around the small room by pointing at things. “Bed. Desk. Bathroom. Welcome to the lavish lifestyle of a broke college student.” 

  What had immediately caught Spencer’s eye was the plethora of books strewn about the room. These books weren’t the boring law manuals that you’d expect a law student to have in their dorm (those were just kept on the desk). These were worn out and used classic novels, Dickens and Dickinson… biographies, Dahmer, Bundy… mystery novels, Aaron had the whole David Rossi collection! That alone could have made Spencer swoon.

The next thing he noticed was Aaron pulling his shirt off and replacing it with a comfy Columbia University sweatshirt. It was in times like these that Spencer really was so grateful to have an eidetic memory, because though Aaron’s bare chest was only visible for a second, that was all he needed for the memory to be ingrained in his mind forever. Aaron hadn’t even mentioned it, just threw an Introduction To Criminal Law manual at his chest and said, “This is what we’re doing this week, gonna help me?”, so the younger boy closed his mouth, sat on the unmade bed, and read the manual in just a few minutes.

While he wrote the quiz questions down, Aaron had asked him if he even needed to read words or if his supercomputer brain just processed everything without any effort. Spencer felt the need to point out that one doesn’t really need to read texts word for word, your brain will comprehend the information before you even realize you’re reading, but Aaron had already moved on to another subject, stating that his brain must be like Spongebob’s. When Spencer had furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, Aaron explained that Spongebob’s brain was like an office, full of filing cabinets and little versions of himself running around screaming. Followed by a quieter “How have you never watched Spongebob?”

 “Hah, the screaming part is actually quite accurate, it seems my mind is in a constant state of distress,” Spencer retorted.

“Are you distressed right now?”

“That would be  what the ‘constant’ part of my statement implied, yes.”

“Smartass.”

“I’m a genius, Aaron”

Aaron only chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Why are you distressed?”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to look Aaron in the eyes, how was he supposed to tell him he was nervous because everything that’s happened in the past few hours was so far out of his depths? He only shrugged and mumbled, “New environment, I guess.”

“Well, what can I do to make you feel comfortable? How do you usually relax?”

The response was immediate, “I read.”

“Tell you what, after I finish studying we can sit down and read for a bit. Get you used to this ‘new environment’, after all, you’ll be here a lot. I’m a terrible test-taker.” 

Spencer smiled, “Sounds good, and you can’t be that bad.” 

He got back to writing the questions. The manual covered the basics of what crime is as a concept and the structure of criminal justice. Things that Spencer already knew from reading several manuals and books on his own time. He wasn’t lame, it’s just that technical manuals tend to be more fun and informative than reading Pride and Prejudice for the seventh time, Mom. Nonetheless, he attempted to make the questions easy, just to get a sense of where Aaron was at so that they could focus on his problem areas. Spencer was good at studying.

Aaron sat at his desk to take the test, hunching over and biting at the tip of his pencil. The timer was set to half an hour but during his silent not-freak-out Spencer noticed he only wrote for seven minutes and spent the rest of the time erasing and rewriting. The timer sounded and brought his consciousness back to the forefront. He took the paper Aaron handed him and took a few seconds to look it over.

           Fuck. It was bad. So bad. Spencer tried to keep a neutral face on but Aaron had gotten every question wrong and the answers were so underdeveloped it was like grading a kid’s spelling quiz. Distressed, he looked up to Aaron’s pure innocent unsuspecting perfect face. 

“Aaron… These are all wrong… For ‘define crime in your own words’ you just put ‘when bad people do bad things’...”

 “Oh..shit. God, I am such a doofus. How will I ever pass these midterms?” Aaron’s grin was wicked.

Spencer rolled his eyes and shoved the paper to Aaron’s chest. He had a feeling the skater was smarter than he let on… 

“It’s getting late, I should go… We’ll work on your ‘answers’ next time.”

 A flash of worry crossed Aaron's face, but Spencer must have imagined it. They’d just spent hours together, surely he was getting sick of him. He started packing his things, but Aaron interrupted him, “Wait…” Aaron’s hand on his wrist stopped him from packing any further, “Stay the night. Besides, I promised you we’d read, right? I am a man of my word, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t keep the shy smile off his face, he knew he had to say yes or he’d regret it. Not only that but Penelope would never let him live it down. 

“You did promise, and we can’t have you start breaking promises now, it would hurt my feelings.” At Spencer’s fake pout, Aaron grinned, pushed him gently back onto the bed  and said, “Show me what you’re reading today.” 

 -------------------------------- 

After about 45 minutes of reading side by side on the bed, Spencer reading a technical book on the life cycle of the praying mantis and Aaron mostly watching Spencer while pretending to read a JFK biography, the older man decided he’d had enough of the silence. Don’t get him wrong, he was immensely enjoying staring at Spencer's lips mouthing the words and at his long fingers as he flipped a page every few seconds, but he wasn’t into this silence.

  “What is that?” He reached out for a book that was peeking out from Spencer's satchel on the bed. It was rather large in height and had gorgeous red art on the cover. It looked quite old, quite important.

“Oh, that’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne”

Aaron let out a grunt of understanding, urging Spencer to go on, “It’s a classic. It was published in  1870 and was groundbreaking for its time. 20,000 leagues is roughly 50,000 miles and it’s the depths that the Captain of a futuristic submarine captain and three adventurers travel to. They encounter monsters and new landscapes, it’s actually the book that we get a lot of adventure tropes from today. You know Nemo the fish?” 

Aaron nodded. 

“Well, that name comes from Captain Nemo from the book. Jules Vernes wrote a lot of influential novels, like Around The World In 80 Days which I’m sure you’ve heard of.” 

 At that he nodded again. The story sounded interesting, and Spencer seemed to have a deep interest in it. Besides, Aaron could listen to this boy talk all day.

Aaron bit his lip timidly, “It sounds really lovely, why don’t you read it to me?”

Spencer was taken aback for a second but quickly erased the shock from his features. That might have been the most seductive sentence he’d ever heard, and it came from Aaron’s mouth. Even better. 

Trying not to show his nerves, Spencer smiled and said “Of course.”

He set his and Aaron’s books down, took out the Jules Vernes from his bag, and settled underneath a blanket. Aaron helped himself to a share of the blanket, and usually Spencer would feel uncomfortable being so close to someone, but he noticed he didn’t mind at all. He began to read, ‘The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident…’

 As Aaron listened intently to the story, the younger genius couldn’t help but notice that dark-haired man was staring at him. A big part of his insecurity was telling him that it was because he had something on his face, that Aaron was staring at him because he was a joke to be gawked at. But there was another blooming part of his brain that thought maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner was staring at him because he thinks he’s pretty. 

At some point between Chapters five and six, Aaron’s head found Spencer’s shoulder, a bit after that Aaron’s eyes closed, but Spencer knew he was still listening because he’d let out a low chuckle once in a while that he could feel through his arm. Then Spencer’s own eyes began to feel heavy and his cheek found the top of Aaron’s soft hair. His words began to drawl and the book in his lap fell closed. Warm under the blanket, pressed close to his new friend, it just felt right to succumb to the black behind his eyelids.

[rossa-motte]

cielo rojo/red sky, short story update.

Hey, everyone! So today I want to talk about Cielo Rojo/Red Sky, the first complete short story I wrote not only this year, but in a long time. If you read my introduction to the community, I commented on how (thanks to perfectionism) I stopped writing for four or five years.

Reading about a “writer block” that takes more than a few weeks may seem scary af to a lot of people, but I'm kind of glad. I feel more confident now. Also #OvercomingMentalIllness, even if I wasn't a perfectionist, my focus was on other stuff.

State:  complete... for now. Probably in a few months I'll read it again and clean it a bit more

Wordcount: 4888 (love the number idk why)

Genre/category: adult, dark fantasy, paranormal (vampires)

Premise/concept: A young woman accepts to be bitten by a vampire in an illegal vampire-party but she really isn't sure if that's what she wants, especially because she has the rarest blood type in the world.

Characters: 

Urbana

the MC

a woman in her mid twenties with cool hair, who works as a stylist

a anxious and obedient golden retriever (literally in my notes about her)

Reyes

the vampire

we can't know much about him

but he seems pretty human... and boring

Begonia

our MC's best friend

the crazy one who convinces her to go to the party

I wanted her to have more screen time but I couldn't :(

Playlist:

Show it 2 me (by Night Club)

Gossip (by Night Club)

Dear enemy (by Night Club)

Miss negativity (by Night Club)

Your addiction (by Night Club)

Scheizophrenic (by Night Club)

Die in the disco (by Night Club)

Give yourself up (by Night Club)

Bad girl (by Night Club)

Scary world (by Night Club)

Sad boy (by Night Club)

Need you tonight (by Night Club)

Strobe light (by Night Club)

Tonight is the night i die (by Payale Royale)

Song for planning: (I have a specific song I put on repeat when I plan characters, and other stuff. Usually the vibes don't match that much, but credit where's needed) Little somenthing  (by Melody Gardot and Sting)

Years ago I got this idea of a world with vampires and... let me clear up: I always wanted to write about vampires (and all that kind of creatures) but for obvious reasons I thought it wasn't a good idea. I think the Twilight and Twilight copycats era has passed and vampires can be cool again. Thanks.

So years ago I got this idea of a world with vampires, not like a secret world. In this universe, vampires are part of normal life like a bunch of goth kids... okay, no. My take was more political. I thought a lot about it: I wanted them to have power and privilege in society thanks to their... condition but I also wanted them to be seen as an other by no-vampires. To be marginalized in other aspects. I also wondered how law would work with them.

I wanted to write a short story collection in this world, and maybe some day I'll do it (not right now). One of the core ideas was seeing giving blood as similar to sex work (but not the same because it wasn't just the same). And later on I got the idea of Tinder (or a similar app) asking information such as blood type.And later of course I asked myself: which blood would taste better? (as yu do) And who has that blood?

But, besides writing only at night, I'm not a vampire so I don't know, so it changed to what type of blood would attract vampires? Probably a rare one.

Presenting to you: Rh null, the rarest blood type in the world. Only 40-50 have it.

Oh yeah, everything was perfect... except writing after five years of not doing so. 

I ignored it for weeks. Specially because I was trying to rewrite an old short story with an interesting concept (the one I'm writing right now). It didn't take much to accept I wasn't ready for this other story. I didn't even told people I was leaving this story again and would want to write other, because I felt ashamed for not sticking to it.

At the moment, I've decided Cielo Rojo would take place in a party full of vampires, so imagine my surprise when YouTube, out of the blue, recommend me a 1 hour mix of “vampire electro/house”.

what the fuck

I didn't told anybody, I don't listen to that kind of music, I don't watch those videos, and I didn't search for ANYTHING related... only the bloodtype, but that doesn't equate with vampires and electro.

Anyways, for me: a sign. Write that shit. The universe screaming at me to stop fooling around and just do the damn thing. So I did.

My first draft took me a few days. Maybe two or three, I can't remember. And I hated it. I was proud and knew it was going to be difficult and I would be able to improve it. But I was still feeling really insecure.

Writing fantasy short fiction is hard: there's a lot you have to explain for the concept to make sense, but I didn't want to bore people or make the story too long.While drafting, and after ending it, I made a list of things that I needed to change or put. In my second draft I mostly restructured some things.

Not much really. Structure wise was better than I thought, specially for pantsing it. Somehow I only wrote useful scenes that happened during moments that traditionally work like that. Like a midpoint! I didn't even plan on putting something similar to a midpoint in my short story but not only it works: somehow it wouldn't ever work without.

Oh, and the second draft was a rewrite, not an edit: one document on a side of the screen, and a new one on the other. That helped a lot.

The third draft was me crying while paying attention to my writing and tearing the prose apart. Filters, abuse of -ing and -ly words (in Spanish are -mente and -ando/-endo), a lot of to-be verbs and a lot of them in unnecessary places or vague language/weasel words.

The fourth draft was the same but after a longer period of time and also polishing the dialogue. The characters had voices but I knew I could do better.

Reyes was so difficult to write. Usually I start with a vague idea of a character, almost as an archetype. But not with him, I just didn't see all of him until the last draft.

I really liked Begonia—I was going to use her more but in the second draft it just didn't made sense. She has a deeper story and personality that would be hinted at... but I didn't.

The prose was a nightmare.

I was trying to get equilibrium with a lot of little details: general stroy details, plot, characters, worldbuilding.

I'm the kind of person who like to suggest myself a theme to use as a compass. Usually when the story is done, I discover more, but a base one is cool. But this story didn't have it. The draft itself didn't took much but between those writing days I couldn't understand what I was going for with this... until I did.

I can't get over the structure. It made sense. And I wasn't even trying (that hard).

That midpoint. I didn't know what I was doing and it worked beautifully.

I thought the dialogue would be worst. Didn't need to change that much.

When I found the theme (to give you an idea, usually for me theme go hand in hand with internal conflict/desire) everything made sense.

The music was perfeeect. Ironically I didn't used the YouTube mix, but thanks to listening to it, it recommended me Nightclub and they reaaally got the vibes.

There's a bunch of details I didn't know why I was putting them (it just felt right or logical) and when you see the big picture they make sense and create layers in the story. Reyes only made sense to me after noticing that. Not only him... but specially him lol

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 48: The Cave of Doom Part 3: A Deal with Paranoia

Here comes the third part of this multipart story. Before I leave you with it, a little announcement about this story. The fourth and final part of The Cave of Doom will be released not in 14 days as usual, but right next week, when you’ll be able to read the ending of this multipart-story. And also, the following entry after that will be a special episode on December 24, a Christmas Eve special episode which, unlike last year, will be part of the main storyline. It will be special too because it will be the introduction of Nico Flores in the plot.

As you know if you’ve read previous episodes, when a new canon character has been introduced in the story, I always did it with an alternate storyline. It happened with Remus and it will happen again with Nico, who will have an alternate introduction, different from canon. So, stay tuned for that on December 24. Until then, you’ll have the resolution of this multipart story, right below and next week. I hope you enjoy and, until next week.

SYNOPSIS: Virgil has to deal with the fact that Paranoia is a ghoul, which also means that paranoia has always been in him, to some extent. Then, they will have to go straight to face Paranoia, although they’ll have to face some dangers on the way.

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety. Huge loads of angst in this episode.

EPISODE INDEX

[Roman is writing in his diary, his voice narrates his thoughts while he’s writing]

ROMAN: Dear diary… I had to stop writing for a moment, because I felt tears in my eyes, and I didn’t want to blurry my calligraphy with them. Ugh… Roman, come on, put yourself together. You have to keep on writing, even when what you’re saying is breaking your heart… again. It’s the only way to release the pain, at least a little bit, if possible. Okay, I need to put my ideas in order, so I’ll just rewrite a summary of the previous portion of the story. Once we knew that Chris was in the cave, kidnapped by the ghouls, we decided to follow them, but Dillon said he was afraid, so we let him stay behind with Ian taking care of him. As Chris later told us, the ghouls took him to the throne room in the cave, in a sack, and there they told him their story, that they intended to take Virgil himself so that he could help them. As they told him, the ghouls were in danger because one of them, after Virgil’s departure, had called himself ruler, and he subjugated all of the ghouls, controlling them mentally and forcing them to obey his command. Only these two ghouls, Height and Rejection had managed to escape and were the only ones resisting. When we got there, Virgil was mad at the ghouls, thinking they had stolen the keys to kidnap our son, but the ghouls explained, and it was a really sound explanation, that they found the door open and just grabbed Chris by mistake. Anyway, Virgil decided to take Chris back to the Mind Palace, but when we got to the door, we found it locked, and what’s worse, Ian was there, with a wound on the head, unconscious. Patton managed to heal him, but he didn’t remember the last minutes before the attack, and Dillon was gone. Remus deduced that it had been Dillon who’d done that, probably under the control of the Dark Master again. The ghouls offered to help us find the keys and Dillon if we helped them defeat their menace, and so we did. But when the ghouls mentioned the name of the leader of the subjugated ghouls, he went livid… Okay, let’s just keep going, and I hope that my hand doesn’t shake now that I’m getting ready to write down what happened next...

[intro sequence]

[Virgil still looks at the ghoul with the same face of shock]

VIRGIL: Paranoia? His name is… Paranoia?

HEIGHT: Yes, it is.

VIRGIL: I can’t believe it. Are you positive that his name is Paranoia?

REJECTION: Yes, your majesty, at least he introduced himself as such. Is anything wrong?

ROMAN: Virgil, are you okay?

VIRGIL: No, I’m not… I need to sit down for a second…

[Roman summons a folding chair and Virgil sits down]

VIRGIL: Thanks, Roman…

ROMAN: Don’t mention. What’s the matter, Virge?

VIRGIL: Don’t you understand, Roman? If there’s a ghoul that represents paranoia… then that means that paranoia has always been inside of me… My biggest fear… has come true. All these years wanting to avoid being called like that, all those years afraid of that mention… the way I got so mad at you when you accidentally used that word on me… and y’all were right all along. [a black tear falls down his cheek] I’m a paranoid after all.

ROMAN: Virgil, that’s not…

VIRGIL: Yes, it is. Thank you for trying to reassure me, but this has no possible reassurance, because facts are facts. I’m a paranoid and the existence of that ghoul is proof of that. Not only that, he’s so powerful that he managed to subvert a whole legion of ghouls. So what does that say about me? I’m so sorry, Thomas. I… I’m not good enough for you.

THOMAS: Wha…? Yes, you are, Virge! Even if one of your fears is Paranoia, that doesn’t mean that me or you are paranoids. I know you’re under a huge shock, but don’t talk about yourself in these terms, please. It hurts me, because I love you. We all love you and it hurts us all to see you like this.

VIRGIL: You love me? Even after knowing the harm that I’m doing to you, you still love me? You shouldn’t, Thomas.

[Thomas hugs Virgil]

THOMAS: Yes, I should, and I do, with all my heart, Virgil. And this discovery doesn’t change my earlier statement. I’m still proud of you, of everything you are, Virge, and if that everything includes paranoia, then so be it. It’s probably for a reason, anyway, and we’ll find out in time.

[Virgil hugs Thomas back, then starts crying on his shoulder]

VIRGIL: [sobbing] I’m not worthy of so much love, Thomas…

THOMAS: Yes, you are. And I don’t care if the others are listening now, because I’m sure they won’t mind me saying this. You are my dearest friend among all the Sides, and I love you, very, very much. The list of reasons is so long we could be years reading it. Do you think a little “spot” on you is gonna prevent me from seeing all the rest of the wonderful traits in you? Sometimes, spots only contribute to enhance the beauty of the something they’re on. Besides, do I have a right to ask you to be perfect when I myself am really far away from it? So vent all you want now, I’m here for you. And when you’re ready, we’ll have time to find an explanation to all of this. But rest assure. It won’t change my… our opinion about you, so calm down, okay? We still love you. Right, guys?

LOGAN: Thomas speaks for all of us, Virgil.

ROMAN: And I don’t need to tell you my feelings for you, because you know them very well, my love.

VIRGIL: [still sobbing on Thomas’ shoulder] Thank you, guys, I love you too.

[Virgil keeps on crying for a few minutes, until he finally calms down and Thomas releases him. Roman hands him a handkerchief]

THOMAS: Feeling better?

VIRGIL: [cleaning the makeup mess on his cheeks with the handkerchief] Yes and no at the same time… it’s too much to handle… but at least it calms me down a little bit that you still want to support me after knowing this.

PATTON: Of course we want to support you, son. We are family and if one of us is in pain, we all share that pain with him and we all have the duty of making the pain go away. We’ll figure this out somehow, kiddo, you’ll see.

VIRGIL: Thank you, dad.

CHRIS: Now, it’s time we start moving on, if you’re okay with it, dad.

VIRGIL: [takes a deep breath and with a gesture of hands he fixes his makeup, then he stands up, determined] Yes, I am. And if I’m not, at least not completely, I’ll make myself be, because Dillon needs us, wherever he is. We need to find him, and if it was him who did that to Ian and locked us all here, we’ll find a way of setting him free from the Dark Master, if it’s him who’s controlling him.

PATTON: Who else would be, though?

VIRGIL: [clears his throat] So, where is that Paranoia? He wasn’t certainly in the throne room, where I found you.

REJECTION: Yeah, he said he didn’t want or need that throne of stone to rule us all. He’s established himself and his followers in the deepest corridors of the Cave in a huge building he calls a castle.

ROMAN: A castle? Interesting…

VIRGIL: That zone of the cave is where the strongest ghouls lie. It certainly would be a suicidal mission, if you weren’t with me. I’m the King and Father of Ghouls and, even though I can’t destroy ghouls, as that’s something I can’t do unless Thomas gives me the strength to do so, I can do something that could help us, I can wipe their memories so that they start anew as brand-new ghouls, freeing them from Paranoia’s control.

HEIGHT: But your majesty… that would be akin to kill them. Isn’t there any other way of going through them without doing that? Some of these ghouls used to be our friends and we love them, and it kills me that they could simply disappear as they are.

REJECTION: You’re thinking on Vertigo, aren’t you?

HEIGHT: Well, yes, of course I’m thinking on him. I don’t wanna lose him.

PATTON: Let me guess, that Vertigo… is your partner of some kind?

HEIGHT: Yes. We’ve been together almost since we were born. We’ve always loved each other and had swore to spend all of our life in these Caves together. I can’t imagine a life without him, or even worse, I can’t imagine a life with someone who looks exactly like him but doesn’t have the feelings I feel for him anymore. The heartbreak would be unbearable. Please, tell me there’s a way to save him as he is.

THOMAS: I didn’t expect ghouls to be able to love.

VIRGIL: They are ghouls inside of you and if there’s plenty of something in every corner of the Mind Palace and its dominions, it’s love, in all shapes and sizes. Of course they’re capable of love.

THOMAS: I see… I would have preferred that my fear of heights and my vertigo wouldn’t happen to me always at the same time when I’m in a high place. Now I guess I know the reason why… It’s a pity that something so cute and wholesome has to have such an unpleasant secondary effect on me. But, let’s get back on track. Is there any other way to get to Paranoia without erasing the other ghouls’ memories, Virgil?

VIRGIL: Well, the mission will be far more complicated, but I guess we could try. We can always save that as the last resource, should everything go wrong or should any of us be in danger. The alternative is to use stealth and try to get there as unnoticed as possible.

ROMAN: That doesn’t sound as an easy task.

VIRGIL: It won’t be. There are hundreds of ghouls down there, and the illusion on the caves still stands. They could be watching us at any moment before we notice they’re there. To be honest, I don’t think we have a lot of chances to succeed before we get caught, but we have to try.

IAN: Before we go, one more question. You mentioned that it could be a suicidal mission earlier. Are our lives in danger for some reason? Not that I would not join the mission anyway, but I think we need to know, in all honesty, what risks are we taking.

VIRGIL: As I said, I’m protecting you all. They can’t do anything to me, because my relation between the ghouls and me is the same as between Sandersians and Roman. If something happened to me, all the ghouls and the cave itself would disappear. They won’t touch me, if they know what’s best for them.

HEIGHT: To think they would be willing to do something as sacrilegious as rising their hand against your majesty…

THOMAS: And I should be of any help too, shouldn’t I? I’m the Light Master after all, that has to be of some help.

VIRGIL: I’m afraid not even the Light Master’s power reached this far into the deepness of the Mind Palace. [suddenly has an idea] However… [shakes his head] no, it’s too dangerous.

THOMAS: What?

VIRGIL: No, it’s nothing. Forget I said anything and let’s go.

THOMAS: No, Virgil, if I can do something to help I want you to tell me, now.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay, you are the boss… The Light Master’s power is not useful here… but maybe the Dark Master’s power you also hold inside yourself could be of help. But forget it, it’s too dangerous, you barely can control that power inside and now that you reached a balance between forces, invoking the Dark Master’s power could be dangerous. Remember he’s trying to take control of you all the time, and he almost succeeded not too long ago.

ROMAN: Besides, maybe that’s what the Dark Master would want. To force you to use his powers so that he can get control of you. Virgil is right, the Dark Master’s powers are too dangerous. Don’t use them, Thomas.

THOMAS: Okay, if you say so… but should the situation become desperate, perhaps it could be our only chance.

VIRGIL: If the situation becomes desperate, we’ll think of something, but not that, Thomas, please. Now, let’s go. There’s a long way until we reach the corridors of the Cave where Paranoia hides. I can’t wait to put my hands on that son of a…

[The gang gets going through the caves. They keep walking and walking in what seems an eternity. At some point, they sense that the lights are getting dimmer the deeper they get into the caves]

ROMAN: I don’t like this. It’s getting too dark, Virgil.

VIRGIL: This is a place of shadows, what did you expect?

ROMAN: You said earlier that there are no shadows without light. Why should it be different here?

VIRGIL: Because the deeper we go, the higher the number of shadows there are.

ROMAN: I don’t like the way you said that, I…

VIRGIL: Quiet!

ROMAN: What?

VIRGIL: Ssshhh… [whispering] I think we’re not alone…

ROMAN: [also whispering] What!?

VIRGIL: [whispering] Everyone stand close to me. Someone’s coming, I can feel him.

[everybody stands close and behind Virgil. There’s a tense silence, until a voice is heard]

VOICE: Height…? Height, is that you?

HEIGHT: Is that… Is that you, Vertigo?

VERTIGO: Height, my love, I’m so happy to see you’re okay!

[Vertigo appears from the shadows. He shows a heartwarming smile and looks at Height with loving eyes. Height’s face lightens up]

HEIGHT: Vertigo, my love! I’m so happy to see you’re okay! Oh, how I’ve cried over you!

[Vertigo opens his arms with a bright smile. Height makes a gesture of walking to him, but both Virgil and Rejection grab him]

VIRGIL: What are you doing? Stay with us!

HEIGHT: It’s my love, Vertigo! Do you have any idea of how much I’ve longed to be with him? Let me go!

REJECTION: Have you forgotten? He’s now one of them! This is a trap!

[Chris is watching Vertigo while they’re speaking. When Rejection mentions the word “trap”, Chris notices a brief glance of dangerous ferocity on Vertigo, like a lion waiting to jump on its prey. It only lasts for a fraction of second and he immediately returns to his loving pose. No one else seems to notice that brief expression.]

HEIGHT: I said let me go! I want to be with him! Perhaps the spell they had on him is gone. Perhaps he’s managed to run away and, when he’s far from their presence, they can no longer control him. Or maybe it’s just that his love for me is stronger than any spell! He would never do anything to harm me, I know! I said let me go!

VERTIGO: [dangerously sweet begging voice] Height, please. I’m so scared… I need your help. I’ve been running away from the others for so long. I’m so happy to see you again. Please, don’t push me aside, not you too. Please, come to me… Please… I feel so alone…

HEIGHT: [struggling with Virgil and Rejection who hold him] Let me go, I want to be with him! Let me go!

JANUS: He’s…

CHRIS: [interrupting him] He’s lying, Height. [Janus looks at Chris with a face of surprise] You can’t trust him. He wants to capture you and give you to Paranoia so that he can subjugate you too.

HEIGHT: No, I don’t believe you. He would never…

JANUS: Chris is right. I don’t know how he caught him faster than I did, but you can’t trust Vertigo. Believe me. He’s still under Paranoia’s control. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but for now, you can’t trust him. Believe me. I know a liar when I see one, and he’s lying.

CHRIS: If you go to him, you’ll turn into another of Paranoia’s slaves, and we’ll have less possibilities of saving him and you. Please. You have to believe me. Even when your desire of being with the love of your life is blurring your reason, in the bottom of your heart, you know I’m saying the truth. I know it’s hard and painful, but you must ignore your boyfriend and stay with us. If you do, we’ll find a way to save him and reunite you two for real, but until then… Stay. With. Us.

[Height looks at Chris and his eyes fill with tears. He nods]

HEIGHT: You’re right… He could never have escaped on his own and make it here alive. He’s still one of them.

VERTIGO: What are you talking about? Come to me! I love you! Don’t you love me anymore?

HEIGHT: Shut up! You are not Vertigo! At least not you, speaking! You’re just the mind inside of him, controlling him, forcing him to do your will, keeping him under this hell! I swear to you, Paranoia, wherever you are, we’re gonna find you and you’re gonna pay for this! Mark my words!

[Vertigo switches to a cold, serious face, his eyes starts glowing in red]

PARANOIA: [speaking through Vertigo] So bold of you to throw threats like that… There’s only two of you left. You can’t stop me anymore. I’ve got a whole army to protect me. What have you got? Nothing! You’d never get to me, not alive at least!

VIRGIL: Do you wanna know what they’ve got? They’ve got me! I’m King Virgil the 1st, Father of Ghouls and I’m strong enough to put an end to your reign of horror in this place! Stay in that fake throne of yours while you can. We’re coming for you, and you won’t be sitting there for long. Your time is almost over. Count the seconds you’ve got left, Paranoia!

PARANOIA: [mocking voice] Do you think so? Maybe you’ll get a surprise when you get here… By the way, and I’m just mentioning this randomly, is any of your sons missing?

[Virgil shows a face of shock, then a mixture of horror and wrath]

VIRGIL: You… You f*ck*ng b*st*rd! You’ve got Dillon, right? Listen good, Paranoia, at the end of the day, you’re just a ghoul like any other, and as the King, with Thomas’ assistance, I’ve got control over your very own existence. If you dare to touch just a hair of him, it will be the last thing you do! Even if I’ve got to destroy this whole place to do so, you’ll never escape from me!

PARANOIA: [smiles mockingly] If you do that, it will be your son who suffers the consequences. I’ve got a better idea that would suit us both better.  Perhaps we can find a… friendlier solution? I’ve got your precious key chain that prevents you from returning to your own world outside. I’ll be waiting for you here. You won’t be disturbed by my ghouls until you reach my palace. We’ll have the chance to… make a deal. Don’t take too long boys. I don’t know when I’ll change my mind about keeping your son… safe and sound. See ya!

[Vertigo then runs away, laughing evilly. Height watches Vertigo running away until he disappears in the shadows, then he starts crying. Rejection hugs him until he calms down]

PATTON: I’m so sorry you’re going through this, kiddo… Calm now, everything will turn out right…

VIRGIL: [tranquil fury] Gosh… He’s gonna pay for bringing so much suffering to all of us… If he touches my son…

[Roman puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil looks at Roman. Virgil’s eyes are bright as if on the verge of crying, but this time he doesn’t shed a tear. On the contrary, a single tear goes down Roman’s cheek. Virgil cleans the tear by sweetly petting Roman’s cheek]

VIRGIL: We’ll rescue him, Roman. We’ll rescue our son.

ROMAN: I know. Don’t get me wrong, Chris. I love you just as much as I love Dillon, and it hurt me just as much when the Dark Master kidnapped you. But it hits differently that someone you’ve carried inside of you, that you have felt growing inside of you, is in danger. Now I understand better what you went through when Chris was taken from us, Virgil.

CHRIS: It’s okay, father, I understand. I love Dillon too and it hurts me as much to see him endangered. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this together.

VIRGIL: Together as a family.

THOMAS: Don’t leave us out of your family, guys. We’ll also do everything in our hand to help you.

ROMAN: We know, Thomas, that’s why you are our family too. That goes to all of you too, guys.

VIRGIL: Well, enough sappiness. It’s time to face Paranoia once and for all.

ROMAN: Do you trust him though? He said he wouldn’t hinder our path to his place, but I’m not sure if we can trust him.

VIRGIL: We definitely can’t trust him, Roman. We’ll walk with the same precautions, although, of course, now that they know where we are, we can’t count on the stealth factor. Now we know for certain we’re being watched all the way. So, stay alert, guys, just in case they would try to set an ambush on us. Let’s go.

[the gang keeps walking. No one seems to bother them, until after some time, they reach a huge cavern, with what looks like a castle in the middle]

ROMAN: Wow… That style of decoration is so demode for a castle! Did that guy live under a rock or something…? [noticing everyone frowning at him, Roman realizes he accidentally made a pun with the “living under a rock” thing] Sorry…

VIRGIL: Ahem… Demode or not, we gotta go in there. As I said, keep your guard up, guys.

[the gang approaches the castle. When they reach the front door, it opens before they have the chance to knock. Virgil just sighs and enters, followed by the others. They find themselves in a huge hall, with Paranoia sitting in a throne room]

PATTON: Why does this place look so familiar?

ROMAN: Because it is a copy of my own castle in Sandersia, Patton. Only the color-scheme changes. Everything here is black and crimson, instead of white and red like in my place. But the distribution is exactly the same. How did he know…?

PARANOIA: Welcome to my humble home… your majesty. Glad to see you at last with my very own eyes.

VIRGIL: Stop with your games, Paranoia. You know we’re not here on a courtesy visit.

PARANOIA: Yes, but that is not a reason to throw manners away, is it?

VIRGIL: Manners? You have my son under your filthy hands and you talk to me about manners? Just shut up and cut to the chase! You spoke about a deal. What do you have in that twisted mind of yours?

PARANOIA: Oh, it’s very easy. I want you to surrender to me these two ghouls, the only two that are still resisting me. In exchange, I’ll give you back your precious son and your key chain, and the chance of leaving this place unharmed.

HEIGHT: You have to be kidding!

VIRGIL: Where is my son? I won’t keep on talking until you show me proof that he’s still intact. If you have hurt him somehow, I swear…

PARANOIA: Calm down, my hooded dark friend. You want a proof of life? Fine, there’s your proof.

[Paranoia pulls from a rope and a curtain rises. Behind it, there’s Dillon, with his hands chained to the walls]

DILLON: Dad! I’m so happy to see you! Dad, help me! I’m so scared!

VIRGIL: Dillon, are you all right? Did he hurt you?

DILLON: No, he didn’t… but I fear what he’ll do to me! Please, dad, help me! Do as he says and help me! I don’t want him to hurt me, dad! Please!

HEIGHT: Your majesty, I hope you’re not considering…

VIRGIL: [to Paranoia] If I do as you say… you swear you’ll set my son free?

REJECTION: [scared] Your majesty, no!

PARANOIA: I solemnly swear, Virgil. You’ll have your son and your keys, and of course you’ll also solemnly renounce to your throne, both for you and for your heirs, and I’ll become the new legitimate governor of this cave for as long as Thomas shall live.

VIRGIL: But I can’t just sacrifice my friends for this! I can’t just betray them!

PARANOIA: [frowns] I’m afraid you have no choice. Your ghouls or your son. You can’t have both. If you reject my offer, your son will never see the light of the outer world again. And you’ll see him perish with your own eyes, right in this room.

[Dillon starts crying]

DILLON: Dad, please! I’m your son! Is my life less worthy for you than any other? Please, help me!

VIRGIL: [his eyes fill with tears] You b*st*rd! He’s only a baby begging for help from his father! You f*ck*ng monster!

PARANOIA: I don’t have time for your stupid expletives, no matter how funny they are to me. Hurry up and make a choice! I’ll only give you one minute to think! After that, your son will be history!

DILLON: Dad, please, help me! Say yes, please! Don’ let him take me!

[Virgil looks at his friends with a face of despair. The others look at him. Height and Rejection show a face of horror and despair]

VIRGIL: [anxious] I can’t… I can’t make this choice! This is too hard!

PARANOIA: 30 seconds, Virgil. Your time, and my patience, are running out!

DILLON: Dad! Don’t let him kill me! Dad!!

HEIGHT: Please, don’t surrender us! There has to be another way!

[Virgil looks at the ghouls, then at his son, again and again, each time with a higher amount of angst]

PARANOIA: Ten seconds… I’m afraid you’ll have to say goodbye to your son, Virgil… Five, four, three…

DILLON: [screeching in fear] DAD!!!

PARANOIA: Two… one…

[Virgil makes a gesture to speak, but Janus suddenly interrupts him]

JANUS: Oh, what are you waiting for? Just kill him already!

VIRGIL: [in shock] Janus! What are you saying!?

JANUS: What needs to be said, Virgil. Don’t you see he’s gonna kill him anyway, no matter what we do? Do you think he’d let us live, when we could be a permanent threat to his power sooner or later? He would only spare Thomas’ life, Patton’s and your own to keep this place standing, but the rest of us are doomed. So, go ahead, Paranoia, kill him. You don’t have the guts to do so, do you?

PARANOIA: [nervous] I… I swear I’ll do it, snake! I swear that…

JANUS: [yelling] Then what are you waiting for!? He’s all chained at your disposal, just like an innocent little lamb! He won’t resist you at all, so it will be easy for you! Go ahead! Do it! DO IT!!

VIRGIL: [scared, in tempest tongue out of the angst] Janus!

[Paranoia looks at Janus with a face of wrath. Then suddenly there’s an evil giggle. But it’s not coming from Paranoia. They all look at the source of the sound. It’s Dillon who’s laughing evilly. He moves his hands and his chains open and fall around him]

DILLON: [staring evilly at Janus] I should have known… It takes a liar to know a liar, or so you said, right… uncle Janus?

JANUS: Exactly, nephew Dillon. Although maybe I shouldn’t even call you like this. Perhaps you would like better to be called… the Paladin. Am I right?

[everyone is so shocked they can’t even say a word for some time]

[to be concluded, guys, gals and non binary pals]

ROMAN: What!? What do you mean “the Paladin”, Janus!? What is going on?

JANUS: The distribution of this castle mimicking Roman’s, the color code, the keys disappearing, Ian being attacked from behind… just in the same fashion I was attacked. Remus was right all along, it was all Dillon’s doing. Except that it wasn’t the Dark Master controlling him. It was you all the time, right Paladin? When Dillon was born, you left Roman’s body and occupied Dillon’s body like the parasite you are, right? That’s why the smoke was all crimson. You try to be subtle but you’re actually very obvious for someone who pays attention enough to details.

DILLON: You’re a very clever snake, Janus. I should have hit you harder with my sword that day, so that you wouldn’t have ruined this perfect plan.

JANUS: Yes I did, twice in the same day like earlier with Vertigo. Am I good or am I good?

VIRGIL: But how did he know about the key chain? He wasn’t present when…

DILLON: Oh, dad, I’ve been watching you for so long since I came out of Roman. All the time I’ve been watching your every movement, day and night. I had already summoned a full copy of your key chain when I searched your pockets while you were sleeping, remember that night you woke up and you found me in your room and I told you… [over the top expression of fear and childish voice] “Dad, I’m scared, I had a nightmare! Can I sleep with you and father tonight?” [smirks] It was so easy to manipulate you like that…

VIRGIL: How could you do that to me? I loved you…

DILLON: I know, that’s what made it so easy to manipulate you. Then, with the keys in my hands, I tried every lock in your room every night, until I managed to open the front door and discovered what was on the other side. I explored the caves and learned about the ghouls… I’m your son and one of the things I’ve inherited from you is the capacity to create new ghouls. That’s how I created Paranoia, to serve me as my pawn in this plan, giving him the ability of putting all of the ghouls under my command by confusing their minds with constant paranoid thoughts until the only voice they would be willing to trust was mine.

ROMAN: So much cruelty…

DILLON: The fact that, not long after that, you offered Chris to stay in your room was a happy coincidence that helped speed things up. I set these two ghouls free, to give realism to their behavior, but not before giving them the order of going to the door I left open to get their “King” back, while they didn’t even remember why they were doing it. I knew they wouldn’t distinguish between you and Chris and he became the perfect decoy. Ian babysitting me was a minor inconvenience I got rid of easily with a single bump on the head from behind when, on my suggestion, he was turning the console on to play some video games. Dragging him to the cave wasn’t exactly easy, though, you should lose some weight, Ian. [Ian just looks at Dillon with a face of anger] My plan was going on perfectly all the time, and I got to this castle through an alternate route that allowed me to avoid you in the caves. Too bad that Janus had to ruin it all in the end, but you’re still here, surrounded by my army of ghouls. You have nowhere to go and I have already won. [sing-song voice] Come, my little children, get these intruders and give them the warm welcome they deserve.

[ghouls appear from all directions surrounding the gang, and they walk slowly to them, while the gang looks at them with faces of fear]

[scholastc]

YA GIRL IS FINALLY DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL!!! I’ll be graduating soon (in literally 2 weeks aaaah), so I decided to reflect on the experience and put this post together. Here are the 4 things I learned in high school (that’s not all about the maths and the sciences)!! 

1. Give yourself some credit

After receiving a test paper with a low mark or hearing negative feedback from my research adviser about a thesis paper that I’ve been working so so hard on, I would understandably feel upset with myself, especially if it’s something I put a lot of effort in. Situations like these make me feel extremely distressed and leave my mind clouded with negative thoughts and emotions. In times like these, it is super important to give yourself some credit. Don’t discredit your achievements just because something didn’t go right! Remember your achievements! They don’t have to be big achievements but rather, things you’ve done that made you feel accomplished and fulfilled. Don’t focus on the things your shortcomings. Give yourself credit for your achievements and your abilities!

2. Find ways to love the ‘pain’

High school is hella tedious and routinely and for most of my high school days, I obviously was never excited to go through any of it. This lead to numerous absences and tardiness sanctions that messed with my conduct and overall academic standing. After my first two years of high school, I finally decided to find ways to love the ‘pain’. I decided to get up at 4am every day to cook myself a hearty meal for lunch so I would have something to look forward to during the day. In addition to this, I always took the time to rewrite my notes in the school library after classes because I loved using colorful pens and highlighters to make my notes look visually appealing, even if no one else would see them but myself. It’s things like these that seem small, but actually made the mundane high school routine actually bearable for me.

3. Give yourself a break

I don’t even know how many times I found myself breaking down in my room or in the school library because of assignments, readings, and tests. I also have ended up pulling multiple all-nighters to finish my thesis. One time, I even had to pull out my laptop in the middle of a family trip to do some research for another paper. I’ve spent so much of my time working my ass off to do well in terms of academics. Whenever I would have free time, I would still insist on doing schoolwork and whatnot. In the end, I would just feel overworked and too exhausted to do anything else and that’s the absolute worst thing you can do to yourself. 

Be kind to yourself! Go on a milk tea date, put on a face mask, take a nap. Overworking yourself isn’t being productive. In fact, it even damages your productivity, so do yourself a favor and give yourself a break.

4. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now

Damn, this was probably the hardest thing I ever had to come to terms with. It took countless nights of crying and panicking for me to realize that it’s okay not to have everything figured out right at this second. When I was in middle school, I was set on becoming a musician. Then, I wanted to become a seismologist. Then, I found interest in Psychology when I was in 9th and 10th grade. I was so certain I was going to be a Psychologist until 11th grade where we had sudden introduction to Psychology lesson where we learned about the brain. There, I realized it wasn’t for me.

All my friends have been decided on what course they’ll be taking, and I felt immensely panicked and anxious about how undecided I am about my course, what school I’m going to take, what career I’m going to take on after university. At family gatherings, relatives would always ask me what I want to be considering I’m so close to graduating high school. I would always say I’m unsure yet, and that’s where the pressure gets even more intense and the “when I was your age, …” stories begin.

It took such a long while for me to realize that it’s okay to be undecided and uncertain about the future. For most of my senior year, I made the effort to talk to my friends, parents, and our school guidance counselor to ask them for help and advice. I journaled constantly. Through this experience, I learned more about myself and my personality and figured that maybe I would do well in the field of Communications. As for now, that’s really all I know and that’s okay. You have a whole life ahead of you, you have tons of time to figure things out :)