Mystery - Blog Posts

I don’t know why I enjoy watching people open things so much. I just like the feeling of curiosity without spending my own money or dealing with having something I don't actually like/want.

Hercule Poirot is so cunty and a girls girl. I’m not explaining why I think this.

Hey this is just a random writing thing for practice. Lmk what you think but this is mostly for fun. Or it’s supposed to be for fun.

Chapter 1

“No! I don’t want to go!” The room had spun; the world had been thrown from its axes before shattering like a glass vase against a wall. “Grandma! Please, don’t do this! I don’t want to go with them! I want to stay here!”

“Arielle, I don’t have a choice. The courts have deemed your parents fit to take care of you now,” Her grandmother said, her voice soft, trying to be comforting. It wasn’t working.

“They live in the middle of nowhere! I won’t be able to see you!” Arielle had cried. She wouldn’t be able to see her grandmother, her aunties, her uncles, her cousins, and her friends!

“You can visit, and we will visit you once you get settled down,” Her grandmother had tried to reason.

“I’m in my junior year of high school! I won’t know anyone, and I will be alone!” Arielle had argued.

“You will have your parents,” her grandmother had said. “Arielle,” her grandmother put her hands on Arielle’s face. Her grandmother's hands were warm and worn from all the work she had done over the years: working in the hospital, the church, and teaching Arielle how to become a practitioner. “I have no choice. The courts are making you go. If there were a way to make you stay, I would’ve done it by now. You know that.” Arielle did know that, but it didn’t matter to her because of its unfairness. Her life was being ripped from up under her, and there was nothing either of them could do. The days leading up to Arielle’s move had been quiet. Arielle barely spoke to anyone; she sat at the altar for her ancestors and prayed that anyone stop this from happening. But every prayer went unanswered. The day of the move was worse. All her family and friends had come to wish her a goodbye. But it went by in a blur; she couldn’t see due to all her tears. Her father opened the car's passenger side door for her, but she ignored him and went into the backseat. They drove in silence for a few hours before her father tried to speak to her, engage her in any type of conversation, but when nothing worked, he sighed and said,

“I know this is hard for you. You haven’t seen your mother and me in years, but we got better. Not only are we two years sober, and we also have great-paying jobs. We got our lives together for you. We just want to build a good relationship with our daughter.” Arielle had summoned the meanest and most vindictive glare she could muster before turning it on her father and saying,

“If you wanted a ‘good relationship,’ maybe you should’ve tried talking to her instead of forcing her to uproot her life away from everyone she loved and making her leave the one place she had ever known. Have you ever thought of that?” Her father never responded, and Arielle looked out the window as they left the city of New Orleans and drove to Colorado. The ride took two days, and they barely spoke to each other in those days. Her father only asked her if she was hungry or had to use the bathroom, and Arielle responded with short answers. When they arrived in the small town of Silverlake, she noticed one thing.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? You moved me to a sundown town!?” Arielle cries; she watches as every person they drive past is white. “If you wanted me dead, a gun to the head would be better!”

“Arielle!” Her father had yelled in frustration but Arielle just cried silently to herself. “This isn’t a sundown town; there are people of color here! We know a great black couple with a son your age!”

“He’s probably a coon,” Arielle sniffles quietly.

“What was that?” her father had asked with a confused frown.

“I don’t want new friends! I want Kyrell, Kaeja, Leon, Jenesis, and Selena! I want my cousins Huey, Riley, Phrenell, Carlina, and Diamond!” Arielle yells. Her father had driven up to the house, which, Arielle had to admit, was nice. The house was two stories and huge, mostly beige panels with white outlining. The roof was a light brown, which matched the house's aesthetic. It was really nice, but Arielle refused to admit it out loud. Arielle grabbed her bags and ran into the house. Arielle refused to look at the rest of the house or greet her mother as she ran upstairs to where her father had told her where her room would be. Her room was already filled with her stuff: dresser, bed, and boxes of all her stuff. But it felt wrong. This wasn’t home. She had locked the doors to her room.

That's how the past few days had been; she refused to unpack and acclimate to her situation. She watched her phone as she counted down the days until she would have to go to school. Her father and mother both tried to get her to exit the room but failed. She was going to stay that way until her group chat went off,

“Ari? You good? It’s been a few days, and you haven’t answered any of our messages,” It was Jenesis who texted the group chat first. No, Arielle wasn’t ‘good,’ nor would she ever be.

“We are here if you want to talk,” Keaja adds. Arielle didn’t have the energy to respond; if she did, she would break down again. She misses her friends with everything in her.

“Bitch you mad weird for ignoring us,” Her cousin Riley texts. Arielle’s eye twitches in annoyance. Riley was her cousin and twin to Huey. They were named after the characters in Boondocks, and their personalities, funnily enough, also matched the characters. But Arielle wasn’t finding it funny at the moment.

“Riley, bro, chill,” Kyrell responds.

“Yeah, Riley. It’s obvious our cousin is sad,” Huey texts.

“Tighten tf up,” Riley replies.

“I’ll be right back,” Huey texts. There are a few minutes where neither Huey nor Riley text in the group chat.

“Not to side with a man,” Diamond starts.

“Never that,” Selena adds.

“But Riley is right,” Diamond concludes. Emojis are spammed in the chat, most of them being shock and angry. “LET ME SPEAK MY TRUTH!”

“Calm down, pastor,” Carlina texts before sending a bunch of eye roll emojis.

“Don’t hurt em now!” Leon texts. Diamond responded to Leon’s text with a bunch of eye rolls before responding, “Look. Arielle, you know you, my girl. I get this is hard for you. We all do! But are you going to ignore us and be miserable, or are you going to make the best of the situation?” Arielle finally responds,

“Be miserable.”

“There's our girl!” Leon texts.

“Think about it this way,” Huey texts, finally returning to the group chat. “You have two more years, and you are college-bound. Keep your grades up, get a job so you have money, and bid your time. We can all still go to the same college. All you gotta do is graduate.” Arielle sighed. Huey was right, and she hated him for it.

“Also, we will still be able to use FaceTime,” Carlina texts.

“And visit! I expect you to be down soon!” Jenesis texts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Arielle responds and starts to feel slightly better at the familiar banter between herself and her friends. Diamonds and Huey’s words echoed in her head, ‘Are you going to make the best of the situation?’ and ‘Keep your grades up, get a job so you have money, and bid your time.’ She could do this. Arielle gets up and exits her room. She walks downstairs to see her parents at the dining table eating their food as they speak in low voices. When they noticed her, they stopped and stared at her in shock.

“A-Arielle! How are you!” Her mother says. Arielle walks to the kitchen and makes her a plate of food before sitting down at the table.

“I’m fine,” Arielle mutters. Her mother and father look at each other with barely contained hope.

“Great!” Her father grins.

“Are you excited for school tomorrow?” Her mother asks. No! Why the fuck would I be excited for school? I won’t have any friends, and I don’t know my way around the place! You fucked up my life! FUCK YOU!

“I’m indifferent,” Arielle says; if she said what was really on her mind, she’d doubt she’d like the consequences. “Though, I’d prefer to go to school with my friends,” Arielle said, hoping they’d stop trying to talk to her. It does, but only for a second,

“Thomas! Did you tell her about Dante?” Her mother asks.

“Briefly,” Her father mutters, not mentioning why the conversation had been cut briefly. “She does know of him.”

“Well! I asked him to drop you off at school and to show you around!” Her mother says with a wide grin. Motherfucker.

“Great,” Arielle responds bristly because, no, this was not great. She wasn’t going to make friends. She was going to keep her head down, get a job, bid her time, and get the fuck out of here once she graduates. The rest of dinner was thankfully silent. Arielle returned to her room, cluttered with unopened boxes filled with all her clothes. Arielle sighs before she begins to unpack her boxes. She puts her clothes into drawers or the closet; she puts books on shelves, pictures and posters on all the walls. She stops at one box and pulls out a picture of her grandmother's mother, Rosemary. She’d never met Rosemary before but knew she watched over her.

“Please give me the strength and patience to make it to graduation,” Arielle whispers to the picture. She would have to make an altar here, but she didn’t have the time right now, so she had to get ready for bed.

Arielle dreams like she does every night, but this dream feels different. It was as if a presence was engulfing her. The presence was angry and hungry. She had to run, had to leave, but the presence grabbed on to her, unwilling to let her go.

“Arielle!” voices echo around her, and the voices yell, causing the presence to fall away. Arielle shoots up from her bed, panting. She needed to build her altar and fucking cleanse this house because there was no way that was a normal dream.

“Arielle! Your father has already left for work, and I’m leaving right now! Dante will be here in ten minutes! Breakfast is in the microwave!” Arielle heard her mother call. Fuck, she had school today. Arielle got up from her bed, ripped her bonnet and head wrap off, ran downstairs, ate her breakfast before returning upstairs, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and getting dressed. Arielle finishes just in time as someone knocks on her front door. Arielle walks downstairs and to the front door. She opened it and saw a boy her age; he had an umber brown skin tone with cool magenta undertones, and his hair was cropped short, immediately raising a red flag in Arielle’s mind. He had light brown eyes and was tall and lean.

“Arielle?”

“Dante?” Arielle shoots back. Dante smiles,

“Nice to meet you!” For meeting someone he didn’t know, he seemed relaxed. But Arielle didn’t care; she grabbed her backpack, walked outside, closed the door, and locked it. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Arielle replies shortly. Dante leads Arielle to her car and opens the back seat for her; Arielle gets in without complaining. That’s when she noticed someone else was in the car, a black girl her age. “Oh, thank god.” The girl blinked at in confusion,

“What?”

“I thought I was going to be the only black girl at school. I’m so happy you’re here,” Arielle says bluntly. This causes the girl to burst out laughing,

“I’m happy you are here too! I got tired of being the only black girl in school. I’m Neveah, I’m Dante’s girlfriend and the new girl before you.” Neveah was a gorgeous girl with an umber brown skin tone like Arielle and Dante, dark brown eyes, and her hair was done in goddess braids.

“Looks like I took your title, but I’m glad you're his girlfriend. Not gonna lie; I thought we were the only black kids here. I thought he was going to be a coon,” Arielle admits, which causes Neveah to laugh again.

“I can still hear you both,” Dante huffs as he gets into the driver's seat. “I’m not a coon!”

“He was before he met me; don’t like his pretty face fool you. He was the only black kid in town before I got here,” Neveah says with a playful smirk.

“So, we three are the only black kids?” Arielle asks.

“In our grade, yeah, but I’m pretty sure there are some other black kids in the school. I’m not sure,” Dante says as he starts the car and begins to drive.

“Where are y’all from?” Arielle asks; she knows she shouldn’t get attached to these people, but she feels safe around these two.

“I was born in New York but moved here when I was like six,” Dante says.

“Chicago. Moved here in middle school,” Neveah explains.

“New Orleans. What’s the rest of our grade lookin' like?” Arielle asks.

“They’re a bunch of assholes,” Neveah replies with a huff.

“They aren’t all bad,” Dante argues, but Neveah shoots him a look. “I mean…a few of them aren’t that bad.”

“Jeez, what the hell goes on in y’all school?” Arielle asks.

“Our school,” Neveah corrects before continuing, “a bunch of bullshit. It’s something every day in this hell hole. I’d stick with me or Dante because someone found out there was a new student coming here this year. It’s spread through the whole town.”

“Damn, y’all get excited for one new student?” Arielle asks.

“You would too if all you saw were the same faces every year,” Dante states.

“The only way you're gonna see a new person in this town is if they’re passing through or if someone is having a baby. People don’t move here often,” Neveah shrugs.

“Who would? This place looks like a fucking sundown town,” Arielle scoffs. Neveah laughs,

“If that ain’t the truth!”

“It’s not a sundown town,” Dante rolls his eyes. “Give this place a chance; I think you will like it here.” Arielle could see Neveah shake her head discreetly at her; Arielle couldn’t help but smile.

“I doubt it, but I’m glad to have you two, at least,” Arielle admits. Maybe she can survive to graduation.

“Nah, you only have me,” Neveah corrects again, which causes Arielle to frown in confusion. “You do NOT want to hang out with Dante’s friends. Bunch of assholes.”

“Come on,” Dante sighs. “They’re not that bad, and they’re my best friends. They were the only people to let me hang out with them when I first started school here.” Arielle couldn’t imagine being the only black kid in a grade. She hopes whatever Dante went through he’s healed from it.

“Fine,” Neveah scoffs. “Mitch is nice.” Dante rolls his eyes,

“Of course you like Mitch.” Neveah smirks,

“Are you jealous, my love?”

“NO!” Dante denied, but Neveah turned to Arielle,

“For context, Mitch was voted third hottest boy in school last year. Dante got fourth.”

“Y’all do that shit here?” Arielle frowns.

“WE don’t do it. Every year some punk bitch posts on an anonymous account ranking every boy and girl in our grade. We still haven’t found out who it is,” Neveah sneers before putting a hand on Dante's thigh. “Don’t worry my love; you are number one in my heart, and if it makes you feel better I didn’t even get top 20.”

“Which is stupid! You are the hottest girl in school,” Dante argued. “No one can match your beauty, baby.” Arielle had to admit these two were cute, but she didn’t want to be here if they got lovey-dovey. She’s already traumatized as is she didn’t need to see this shit. But before either party could continue, Dante parked in front of the school. “Welcome to Silverlake High!” Dante says before getting out of the car.

“The most ghetto school you will ever attend,” Neveah adds as Dante opens her door for you. Neveah gets out, and to Arielle's surprise, Dante also opens the door for her. Arielle gets out of the car and looks up at the high school. It was an indoor school that looked like it had four to five floors. Kids walk into the school, talking, laughing, or complaining. It was the first day of school, and there were lots of mixed emotions.

“Let’s show you to the office,” Dante says as he grabs Neveah’s hand.

“Alright,” Arielle agrees; it’s not like she knew where she was going. Dante and Neveah lead Arielle through the school's first floor. Once they walk in, the hallways go quiet for a brief second before whispers break out.

“Ignore them,” Neveah says, and Arielle was already planning on doing that. As they continue deeper into the school, Arielle notices voices getting louder, and Dante and Neveah suddenly stop, causing Arielle to stop. Arielle turns to the loud voices and sees a group of boys.

“Oh shit,” Dante huffs.

“Your friends are at it again,” Neveah scoffs. There were two groups of boys arguing with each other. Neveah turned to Arielle and pointed at the first group of boys, “Those are my lovely boys friends. That one right there is Mitch.” Neveah points to a boy with light brunette hair and hazel eyes; he is tall but not as tall as Dante and is built like a linebacker. Mitch was the one doing all the yelling and looked extremely pissed. “That boy next to him is Kenny.” Next to him stood an Asian boy who was a foot shorter than Mitch; he had black hair and eyes and was wearing a smirk as he jeered at the other group of boys. “Behind him is Alejandro, but never call him that; call him Alex.” Alex was taller than Dante, which surprised Arielle; he had tan, white skin, dark black hair, blue braces, and dark brown eyes. Arielle couldn’t tell he was Latino at first glance; the boy was white passing as hell.

“Just give me a moment,” Dante says, letting go of Neveah’s hand as he rushes over to help his friends and de-escalate the situation.

“There he goes,” Neveah sighs, shaking her head.

“Who’s the other group?” Arielle asks.

“Oh, well, the one arguing with Mitch is Evan,” Neveah starts. Evan was around Dante’s height and had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “The boy next to him is Ryan, also known as the community dick.” Ryan looked like an all-American boy, almost as tall as Alex, skinny but well-built, with blond hair, blue eyes, and braces. But Arielle could tell something was lurking underneath. She doesn’t know if it’s her intuition or a gut feeling, but something is off with the boy. “Then you have one of the smartest kids in school, Vincent.” Vincent was also pretty tall and had brown hair, green eyes, and freckles. “Then you have the biggest asshole in this school, Christen. My advice is to stay away from this guy. His own friends don’t even like him.” Christen was the shortest out of all the boys, but that wasn’t saying much because all of them were pretty tall. He was also built like a linebacker; he had blond hair and blue eyes. Arielle doesn’t know why, but for some reason she knows in her bones this guy is dangerous.

“If they don’t like him, why do they hang around him?” Arielle asks.

“Probably because they know firsthand that he’s fucking crazy. He’s definitely not the strongest in school, like at all. He’s never won a fight, but he’s vindictive and vengeful. He doesn’t need to fight you to hurt you. Like I said, stay away from him,” Neveah repeated.

“Who’s the strongest in the school,” Arielle asks.

“Alex and Vincent,” Neveah states.

“They must fight a lot for y’all to know that,” Arielle comments.

“Alex, yeah. He’s always getting into fights, but he only fights if he’s provoked,” Neveah says.

“What provokes him?” Arielle asks.

“I have no fucking clue, but the guy goes off when people disrespect him, which honestly same,” Neveah shrugs. “But Vincent doesn’t fight a lot, but when he does fight, that shit ends as soon as it’s started. He might never start a fight, but he sure as hell knows how to end one.”

“Good to know,” Arielle says and looks at each group. She’s getting bad vibes and doesn’t know why. “I have a feeling these two groups are always in trouble.” Neveah laughs,

“You have no fucking idea! The school is split between them. They’re either on Alex’s ‘team’ or Evan’s ‘team’. I know, so fucking stupid. But all the guys pick a side for some damn reason.”

“What about the girls?” Arielle asks

“Oh hell nah, we stay out of that bullshit. A few of the girls choose a side, but that’s because they’re dating someone from each side,” Neveah explains.

“What happens if you don’t choose a side?” Arielle asks because she definitely wasn’t choosing one. This shit sounds so stupid. This town must be boring as hell if people are creating Teen Beach Movie rivalries.

“If you're a girl, nothing. If you’re a boy, you become a social outcast,” Neveah explains.

“That’s stupid as fuck,” Arielle replies bluntly.

“No arguments from me. I never said it was smart,” Neveah shrugs before turning back to the arguing boys. The argument was heating up, which caused Neveah to groan in annoyance. “Fuck this. Let’s just go to the office.”

“You leaving Dante?” Arielle asks.

“He’ll be ight,” Neveah shrugs, and she begins to lead Arielle to the office.

When they get to the office, Arielle sees a boy in the corner of the room. He’s reading a book about the paranormal and shaking.

“Oh, that’s Lucian. One of the social outcasts,” Neveah whispers. Lucian had blond hair that went to his shoulders and was unkempt, he had green eyes, freckles, and was short.

“Why is he shaking?” Arielle asks. It was more like vibrating, really; it was like he was cold or something.

“I think he has some disorder I don’t know,” Neveah shrugs.

“Can I help you girls?” Neveah and Arielle turn to see a woman at the front desk, and Arielle physically keeps herself still. There was darkness around this woman, and it made her uneasy.

“This is the new student, Arielle…?” Neveah trails off.

“Arielle Baptiste,” Arielle supplies hesitantly. She did not want to give her name to this woman, you should never give your name to people who might do you harm. Names are powerful things, and she does not want to be cross.

“What a beautiful name!” The woman says. “But unfortunately, we don’t have all your classes.” The woman slides a sheet of paper filled with different types of classes. “So, could you fill this out so we can make your schedule?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arielle mutters as she grabs the paper. Arielle had to calm herself; she had to be paranoid from last night's dream. This woman was being kind to her and was not showing any ill will to her. Maybe the woman herself had been crossed or hexed that’s why she was covered in darkness. She wishes Riley or her Grandmother was here; they were good at telling people’s intentions. Especially her grandmother. Riley didn’t believe in or practice their ancestral practices, but he could tell someone’s intentions by just looking at them. Her grandma could tell if this woman had it out for her or needed her help by just looking at her. Arielle wasn’t that far in her journey yet, but she will get there one day.

“Arielle?” Neveah asks as she snaps her fingers in front of her.

“Oh! Sorry. What were you saying?” Arielle asks.

“I said you should join cheerleading! It’s really fun, and it can help you make new friends. Tryouts are this Friday after school!” Neveah says.

“I’ll think about it,” Arielle muttered as she filled in the sheet. Neveah kept pointing to classes she should join because they would share. Arielle only did a few because she wasn’t interested in most of Neveah's classes. After she finished, she handed the sheet to the lady at the desk.

“Thank you! Let me just make your schedule. It will only take a moment,” the lady says, grabbing the paper and walking into the back. It takes a few more minutes until the lady comes back and hands her the paper. “Here you go! I hope you enjoy your classes. Come to me if you need help or to change any of them. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Arielle nods bristly before practically dashing to the exit, Neveah following close behind. By the time they exit the office, the bell rings, indicating the homeroom.

“Damn! Thought we would have more time! We should get going!” Neveah says. One of the classes they shared was homeroom, so they walked together.

When they entered the home room, the class was mostly empty. She recognized a few faces, like Dante, and some she didn’t. Neveah sits next to Dante, and Arielle sits next to her. Unfortunately for Arielle, all of Dante’s friends were there. Mitch and Kenny stare at her hard.

“Do y’all have a problem?” Arielle grits out.

“Yeah, fix y’all’s fucking faces. You’re embarrassing me,” Dante hisses before turning to Neveah and Arielle. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t walk with y’all to the office. I had to make sure Alex didn’t kill Evan.” Dante kissed Neveah’s hands in apology, which Arielle found extremely cute.

“All is forgiven, my dear. Where is the bastard anyway?” Neveah asks.

“He’s ditching,” Mitch supplies. “So how do y’all know each other?”

“Arielle's parents are my next-door neighbors. Her parents asked mine if I could drop her off and show her around school,” Dante explains.

“Well, you failed at the first part,” Kenny points out, which causes Dante to deflate.

“Which is y’all’s fault!” Neveah hisses. “Always causing drama for my boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Kenny and Mitch yell.

“I didn’t start that argument! It was Mitch’s fault!” Kenny huffs.

“My fault!?” Mitch hisses. “Mackenzie broke up with me two days ago and is now with Ryan’s dirty dick ass! I have every right to ask if they were going behind my back!” Mitch looked like he was about to cry, but Arielle couldn’t blame him. If her boyfriend broke up with her two days ago to end up with some bitch seconds after, she’d be pissed too.

“No offense, but you only have yourself to blame,” Kenny huffs.

“What!?” Mitch exclaims.

“Mackenzie is a bit of a-“ Kenny doesn’t get to finish his sentence because a new girl's voice cuts into a conversation.

“A bit of a what?” Arielle turns to see a new girl with straight black hair, brown eyes, and pale white skin.

“Hey, Phoebe,” Kenny grins sheepishly. Phoebe scoffs and sits behind Neveah.

“Hey, Phoebe. Is your morning going well?” Neveah asks.

“No, Evan got punched in the eye because of Mitch's best friend,” Phoebe sneers out the last part. Mitch looks away. Phoebe then turns to Arielle, eyes going wide. “Oh! Excuse me. I’m Phoebe. I’m the cheer captain, and Mackenzie is my best friend.”

“Ouch,” Neveah says with fake hurt, which causes Phoebe to roll her eyes,

“We both know your best friend is Dante,” Neveah smirked and shrugged, not denying the statement.

“I’m Arielle; I just moved here.”

“Obviously. I’ve never seen you here before. It’s nice to meet you.” Phoebe says.

“Likewise,” Arielle gives her a small smile, which Phoebe returns. More and more kids come into the room. A girl with white tanned skin and long, wavy blond hair sits beside Phoebe. She introduces herself as Mackenzie. The bell rings again, indicating everything should be there and in their seats. But there is no teacher there. Everyone is talking, unbothered. “Where’s the teacher?”

“Hm? Oh, Mr. Macdonald. He’s our homeroom teacher and is late every day. He probably won’t be here until like 20 minutes in,” Neveah explains.

“What the hell?” Arielle scoffs. “Why?”

“Who knows,” Neveah shrugs.

“Fucking bitches maybe,” Kenny smirked playfully; Arielle didn’t laugh. Arielle looked around the classroom and noticed Lucian was reading his paranormal book in the back corner of the classroom. If the kid only knew what was really out there, it would put his little book to shame. The room suddenly goes quiet, and Arielle looks to see Evan, Vincent, Ryan, Christen, and another boy walking into the classroom. The other boy was short and nervous-looking, fidgeting with the end of his sleeves. He had dirty brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He was also sporting a black eye on his face, similarly to Evan’s. But while Evan’s looked fresh, the boy looked like he had that one for days.

“Kiyès sa?” Arielle asks in a whisper. Neveah stares at her in confusion, and Arielle realizes her mistake. " Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Blaine. The school's punching bag and Ryan’s best friend, kinda,” Neveah whispers lowly.

“The school's punching bag?” Arielle asks with a frown.

“Yeah, the whole school bullies him. He’s not the only one, just the main one. He never fights back, which is so… ugh,” Neveah grumbles.

“He brings it on to himself; he hangs out with Christen all the time. What does he expect!” Phoebe says coldly.

“Yeah, but if you want to mess with him, don’t do it in front of Ryan. Ryan is like super protective over him,” Mackenzie had a valley girl voice, which reminded Arielle of white chicks. Ryan suddenly sits next to Mackenzie, kissing her neck,

“Hey, Bebe,” Ryan's voice was rough.

“Hey, Bebe!” Mackenzie grins flirtatiously. Arielle can see Mitch give Mackenzie a pathetic look, which Mackenzie ignores. After Ryan finishes kissing Mackenzie's neck, his eyes land on Arielle. Only one thought goes through her head: 'Oh hell, nah.’

“You’re the new girl,” Ryan states with a flirtatious smirk. Evan and Vincent were so deep in conversation as they sat next to Ryan, Christen, and Blaine that they didn’t even look up from each other. When Ryan spoke, they all looked up. Evans's eyes barely registered Arielle. They land on Phoebe, and he grins like an idiot.

“Phoebe! How are you today?” Evan asks. Phoebe blushes slightly,

“I’d be better if you didn’t have a black eye.” Arielle turns to Neveah with a raised eyebrow, and Neveah shakes her head. So those two weren’t together but crushing on each other hard-core.

“Um,” Vincent mutters, catching Arielle's attention; he’s staring hard, which slightly bugs Arielle. “I’m-“ Vincent doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Christen speaks,

“Who fucking cares if there’s a new girl! We need to get back at Alex’s ass!” Vincent sneers,

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Or what!? You going to let Alex pussy y’all out?” Christen sneers.

“You’re one to talk! You can’t even fight!” Evan argues.

“Don’t flip this on me! You are just mad; you're weak!” Christen argues.

“Christen fuck off!” Phoebe cuts in with a sneer.

“Or what bitch?” Christen sneers back. A dark look dawns on Phoebe's face, causing Christen to sweat,

“We don’t want a repeat of last year, do we?” Christen sneers at her but stops talking. Arielle turned to Neveah again in confusion.

“They fought last year. Phoebe won,” Neveah explains simply. Arielles dislike for Christen grew. But Arielle is snapped out of her thoughts when a dark presence enters her consciousness; her head snaps toward the door. Someone was coming; she could hear their steps. With each step that came closer, the presence made itself more known and more threatening. The person who enters is an older man boarding on elderly; he has gray and blue eyes. He looked so nonthreatening that it gave her whiplash. Arielle stared at the man silently; she had only felt a presence like this before when her grandmother was cleansing a place corrupted by evil entities. Or the one time she came across a fully corporeal demon. This man didn’t look like a powerful demon or evil entity; he just looked like a normal elderly man. But looks can be deceiving.

“All of you shut the fuck up!” Mr. Macdonald yells, causing the class to go quiet. “I’m going to be calling your names; say here when I do!” Mr. Macdonald then began to call out people’s names, and they would respond with here.

“Fuck, Mitch, where’s Alex?” Dante whispers.

“He’s ditching,” Mitch mutters.

“It’s literally the first day of school!” Dante hisses, and Mitch just shrugs helplessly. While they were talking, Arielle pulled out her phone and texted the group chat her cousins were in,

“Bruh, my homeroom teacher is a fucking demon.”

“What? Srs?” Diamond was the first person to reply.

“Yes, I’m fucking serious!” Arielle responds.

“Don’t make it obvious, you know. Pretend you don’t know, so it won’t target you,” Huey texts.

“Is it really a demon? Or is it some sort of entity?” Pharrell texts.

“Idk!!!! All I know is whatever it is, it’s powerful asf!” Arielle texts.

“Arielle Baptiste!” Mr. Macdonald calls Arielle's name. Arielle flinches hard and drops her phone. Everyone is staring at her.

“I’m here,” Arielle says. Mr. Macdonald turns to her, his head tilts in curiosity. Fuck he knows, he knows, and he’s going to kill her.

“You’re new!” Mr. Macdonald comments.

“Yes,” Arielle mutters, keeping the conversation as short as possible. Mr. Macdonald’s eyes narrow, and Arielle swears they go pitch black. The air is taken from her lungs, but some yelps, and everyone in class turns to Lucian. Lucian dropped his book and was looking at Mr. Macdonald. Did Lucian see Mr. Macdonald's eyes change? He had to; there was no reason for him to yell anyway. Mr. Macdonald looks down at his chart and continues to call names. Arielle sighed in relief; she dodged a bullet. But only for today. She was going to have to keep flying under the radar. Arielle mind reels suddenly as she remembers that Mr. Macdonald wasn’t the only one with the dark corruption around them, so was the front desk lady. Were there other people who were corrupted or possessed? Arielle comes to another realization that she doesn’t even know what this is. Arielle shakes her head and begins to look for her phone, but she doesn’t find it.

“Here it is.” Arielle looks up and sees Vincent holding her phone out to her. She could see her group chat blowing up with unopened messages. Arielle grabs her phone,

“Thanks.” She opened her phone and saw that everyone was either asking if she was okay or what had happened. “I’ll text y’all later; I don’t want to get caught with my phone.” Arielle then put her phone in her pocket. As homeroom slowly came to a close, Arielle couldn’t help but think, ‘Are there more people with this dark presence over them?’

Her question is answered in her next class, then her next class, and every single period until school had ended. Every single adult she had encountered had a dark presence covering them like a black shadow. Some were weaker and still there, but others were way more powerful, like Mr. Macdonald. As Arielle exited her school at the end of the day, she was left with so many questions that she didn’t know what to do. She was at her assigned locker; she was leaning inside as she texted her cousins. Most of them had the same idea, leave this shit alone. As Arielle sighed and was about to turn off her phone, Huey sent her a private text,

“You said every adult in the school has some sort of dark presence over them?”

“I’m not sure; I’ve only really seen it over my teachers and the lady in the office,” Arielle responds.

“Okay, but if it’s over the adults, why not the kids there? Dark presences like that don’t just stay in one place; they spread,” Huey texts.

“Why is it only over the adults?” Arielle asks.

“Idk, you are the one there. Is it over your parents,” Huey asks.

“Nah, I would’ve sensed it when my dad picked me up,” Arielle states.

“Unless they’re hiding it because they know your grandma trained you,” Huey responds. Arielle frowns before texting,

“No, not possible. My mom converted to Christianity before I was born. She doesn’t even believe in what my grandma does.”

“The last time she saw you, you were 8. It’s been years since you last saw her; her opinion could’ve changed, and she has knowledge about the other side. She could be hiding it from you,” Huey responds.

“But why?” Arielle asks. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this makes sense.

“Idk, you figure it out. Keep me updated; something about this isn’t right. My head is starting to hurt,” Huey texts. Arielle's eyebrows go up; that’s definitely not a good sign. Where Riley had excellent intentions, Huey gets headaches where he can actually predict the future or see shit.

“See anything?” Arielle asks.

“Darkness,” Huey responds. Arielle frowns in disappointment,

“So nothing.”

“No,” Huey disagrees. “I see darkness.” Arielle felt the air on the back of her neck go up. That’s definitely not scary at all. Arielle gets another message from Neveah,

“Come on! We are dropping you off at home! We are out front!”

“Okay,” Arielle responds before putting her phone in her pocket as she leans out of her locker. Her locker slams shut as a familiar boy leans against it. Ryan. He smirks at her,

“Hey, gorgeous.” Arielle's eye involuntarily twitches in annoyance. She tries to keep the annoyance off her face. “What’s with the face? You look like I’m annoying you.” She has failed to keep it off her face.

“I’m kinda busy at the moment,” Arielle huffs.

“With that?” Ryan asks, his face is still playful and relaxed even at her hostility.

“Leaving,” Arielle states before walking past him, but unfortunately for her, he follows.

“So soon?” Ryan asks with a playful pout.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Arielle huffs, walking faster.

“She doesn’t have to know,” Ryan smirks, and Arielle turns on her heel to face the boy. Ryan stops with sudden surprise. She hated boys like this, who play with girls' feelings because they can. Even though she didn’t particularly like Mackenzie because she possibly cheated on Mitch with Ryan. But she wasn’t going to get in the middle of that drama.

“Leave me alone! I’m not interested in dirty dick, cheating-“ Arielle is cut off when she puts her finger on Ryan’s chest. The feeling overwhelmed her to the point she jumped back in fear. She finally realized what was off about this boy. It was death. Death clung around the boy like wet clothes did to a body. This boy is very familiar with death, and Arielle does not like that, like at all. She couldn’t help the words that fell from her lips, “What are you?” Ryan’s smile finally drops, and he frowns in confusion before his expression morphs into something more serious,

“What?” Arielle spins on her heels and dashes down the hallway. She didn’t mean to say that out loud, but she needed to stay away from that boy. Being so close to death that it literally clings to him isn’t good.

The drive back to her house was quiet, well, mostly. Neveah and Dante spoke a lot, but Arielle barely spoke. She was too deep in thought. The adults in the school being covered in darkness, Ryan having death cling to him, and Lucian seeing Mr. Macdonald's eyes change. Arielle didn’t know what was going on, and she had two choices. Either to investigate or ignore it. A part of Arielle really wanted to ignore it; she needed to focus on her grades so she could graduate with a full-ride scholarship and find a job in case she couldn’t get a scholarship. But the dream she had last night, the dark presence trying to reach out to her, trying to…do something to her. If it was going to come for her once, it would do it again. Entities are persistent and they have time.

“You excited for the pep rally tomorrow?” Neveah asks.

“Hm?” Arielle is pulled from her thoughts. “Yeah. Will the cheer team be there?”

“Hell yeah!” Neveah giggles.

“Same with the football team,” Dante adds.

“There's a football team here?” Arielle says with surprise. “Who do y’all play?”

“Obviously, there’s a football team here. Why else would there be a cheer team,” Neveah states.

“We play other towns,” Dante supplies.

“How far are the other towns?” Arielle asks.

“The closest one is an hour away,” Dante explains.

“Jesus,” Arielle mutters.

“Oh!” Neveah exclaims. “I forgot to mention that Dante is throwing a back-to-school party this Friday! You should totally come!” Arielle didn’t want to go to a party; how could she even party in these conditions?!

“Yeah! Sure,” Arielle says with a small smile. Dante parks in front of Arielle’s house,

“I’ll pick you up again tomorrow!”

“Text me later? Yeah?” Neveah asks.

“Yeah! Yeah,” Arielle nods before exiting the car. Both of her parent's cars were gone; Arielle entered her house and saw that it was empty. She goes up into her room; she has a lot of shit to get done today. She finished unpacking her room, put an altar in her closet, and cleansed the house. She puts a horseshoe above her door for protection. It was hard to cleanse her house since she didn’t have a lot of stuff with her. Arielle was used to asking her grandmother for things; her grandmother always had vinegar, sage, or rosemary. But Arielle’s grandmother wasn’t here; she was on her own. Arielle had to grab spices from the cabinet and work with what was there. Once Arielle finished, she took a shower. Once she got out, she noticed something: powerful dark energies had entered the house. She ran to the stairs in her towel and saw her parents.

“Arielle! What is that smell!” Her father hissed. Huey was right; whatever is corrupting the adults at school also has her parents. If it has all the adults in the school and her parents, does this entity have more adults around the town? Does it have all the adults in town?

“Febreze! I was cleaning,” Arielle lies as she stares at them.

“Well, don’t spray so much,” Her mother says as she hangs her coat and looks up at her. “Why are you in a towel? Go get dressed; I brought dinner!” Arielle doesn’t need to be told twice; she rushes to her room. She grabbed her phone and texted Huey,

“You were right.”

“Usually am,” Huey responds. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know. I’m still thinking,” Arielle responds. Arielle knew she couldn’t ignore her parents forever; it would make them suspicious. So she got dressed and went downstairs to eat with them. But to her surprise, they were leaving again. “Where are you going?”

“Well, my love. We both work two jobs because we want to give you a good life. We brought you dinner; you should be fine,” Her father says.

“We love you!” her mother says before they both exit the door. Arielle is silent; she had a gut feeling they weren’t going to a second job. She eats dinner alone before she heads back to her room. Arielle goes to her altar and asks,

“Please give me some guidance on what to do. I need help.” After that, she goes to bed, and as always, she dreams again. She sees a person they have blond hair, but other than that, she can’t pick out the details. But what she does know is that she needs to find this person.

Recording of Aki Y. (Waring: Slight Body Horror and REALLY long post)

If I die in this world,

Who will know something of me?

I got to record this, through the tremors erupting from my body, and hope that our guardians can decipher this.

-Aki Y.

[...]

"The lifeforms of Earth are ignorant to their fragility. They can be easily exploited by their blissful imagination."

"I agree with you, these creatures often think they're superior. Yet they can't see that we are inside. Breathing in them, LIVING IN THEM. And this machine will be the key to our assimilation."

"And then our master will be invincible."

[...]

01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010

01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010

01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010

It's spreading...

The lesions consume the host,

It's skin will not outlast

the many worms burrowing within.

They wear a void [but as long as breath comes from the mouth]

Not even hope [their bodies never stood the slightest chance]

CAN COMFORT THE SOULS OF THE UNTOUCHED [THEIR PRAYERS ARE SILENCED]

All they see [to cease the darkness digesting them]

Is a galaxy of light & warmth [it's not theirs, it doesn’t belong to them]

Even a fake sky will suffice. [As their souls fight for their lives.]

As the deep ocean rises over time itself. [No one will be granted protection and love.]

War will be no more and all wisdom will be lost...

The mystery will be revealed

and shall the old world be reborn.

Come to us Holy Messiah of Silence.

does anyone else ship armstrong x blore from and then there were none????!!!

like NO ONE can convince me they WEREN’T both secretly gay for each other and jealous of vera and philip so that just increased their gayness

like just look at them!!! they’re so cute!!!↓

(not my gif!!! creds to whoever made it↓)

Made a book. Need thoughts. Tell me what y'all think. Please. (^._.^)ﾉ

Royal Road

Storms and Sour Shades | Royal Road

The stormbringer. No one knows where they came from. Some say they're a dragon of thunder and lightning. Others say they're a wicked sinner

Here’s some neon fish for this year’s Mermay! I actually started on these in late March and finally got them done! I thought it would be fun to make each character after a certain kind of fish

Vivi - Molly

Arthur - Electric yellow cichlid

Mystery - Longtail red snapper/onaga

Lewis - Blackcap basslet

Shiromori - Koi

Mushi - Blue rainbowfish

Reverb - Vantablack fish

Chapter 4: I see you

Content Warnings for Chapter 4:

Child Abuse (Physical and Emotional)

Neglect and Abandonment

Drug Abuse Mention

Domestic Violence

Mentions of Poverty and Financial S

trugglesTrauma and PTSD

 ThemesMental Health Struggles (Insanity/Breakdowns)

Graphic Descriptions of Injury/AbuseDissociation and Psychological Distress

viewer discretion is advised ⚠️

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My footsteps echoed softly through the unfamiliar halls, each step carrying me closer to a classroom I had never entered before. There was no sense of certainty about what awaited me beyond its door, only a quiet apprehension that lingered in my chest. After signing a consent form handed to me at the entrance, something unexpected happened—the paper itself shimmered faintly, folding and twisting until it transformed into a mask resting delicately in my hands.

I recognized its shape almost instantly, though only from the books I had devoured back at the facility. It was a kitsune mask, a relic often associated with spirits and tricksters from old tales. Traditionally, these masks covered the entire face, which struck me as suffocating and isolating—perhaps a personal bias formed from my own sensory sensitivities. To my relief, however, this mask was only a half-mask, designed to shield my eyes rather than my whole face. A practical adjustment, I assumed, meant to make it less overwhelming to wear.

Ms. Tess, who had been silently observing my reaction, stepped forward and explained the mask's true purpose. It was not simply an ornament or a ceremonial object—it was a tool. A containment device meant to dampen the constant flood of visions and fractured moments that relentlessly played across my mind like a broken film reel. With the mask in place, the overwhelming torrent of future flashes would ease, granting me at least a fleeting sense of normalcy.

She also gently suggested that I visit her every Friday—a standing invitation to what she called 'sensory moments.' These were designed to ground me, a time dedicated to unraveling the tension knotted inside my mind. Apparently, my powers were not only fueled by external triggers but also amplified by my own relentless overthinking, the constant hum of unease I carried with me. It was this internal chaos, she explained, that kept my abilities flaring wildly out of control, leaving me drained and vulnerable.

Those fleeting thoughts, fragile as fallen leaves beneath my feet, crumbled the moment I stood before the door. Room 206—a name so ordinary for a place that felt anything but.

My knuckles rapped softly against the wood, and with a breath caught between hesitation and resolve, I pushed the door open.

"As predicted, here she is."

The voice belonged to the professor, whose gaze flickered toward me with the faintest trace of expectation. I lifted my eyes to meet theirs, offering a plain, almost weightless, "Good morning," before stepping fully into the room—a presence without fanfare, yet not without gravity.

My gaze drifted over the room, tracing each unfamiliar face. Eleven students. Only eleven.

So, they weren't exaggerating after all. Those who walk the uncertain paths tied to time itself—our kind—are rare as cracks in the sky.  From what I see, they all have unique different objects they wear to help them control their powers, which is quite amazing to think that there's this one girl who have her eyes blindfolded.

"Please introduce yourself." The professor said as I nodded. "Good morning. I am Tachibana Hagarin..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Curious gazes devoured my presence the moment I settled into my seat. I suppose I couldn't blame them—a new face in a room so small was bound to attract attention. The silence that followed pressed against my skin like a second atmosphere, thick and unrelenting.

"For the continuation of our lesson," the professor's voice cut through the hush like a knife against glass, "we begin at Chapter 5."

A pause—deliberate, heavy.

"Dark Triad."

The words slithered into the air, curling like smoke around the edges of my mind.

"The Dark Triad refers to Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and Psychopathy—three personality traits bound together by manipulation, absence of empathy, and an insatiable hunger for control."

The professor's voice echoed within the hollow of my thoughts, and for once, the clarity of it felt almost indulgent. My mind had been left unclouded for days, all thanks to the mask resting against my face — a fragile shield between my sanity and the endless unraveling of time.

Even so, I couldn't help but wonder why we were treading the waters of psychology in the first place.

This was supposed to be a class for those who twist time itself — so why did this feel like an autopsy for the mind? 

When the class ended after 2 hours, I finally reached the schedule of vacant time. I was quietly thinking of what to do with the given 2 hours of vacant but suddenly...

A pen rolled near my shoe, its faint clatter against the cold floor somehow louder than it should have been. I leaned forward, fingers poised to grasp it—

"No!"

The word cracked like a whip through the air, sharp enough to slice through my hesitation. I looked up to see a girl, panic carved into every step she took as she nearly stumbled toward me, her shoe sending the pen skittering across the room.

"You shouldn't touch it," she whispered, her voice low and urgent, as if the walls themselves had ears.

I followed the flicker of her gaze to a boy slouched near the back, his grin stitched too wide across his face, a glint in his eye that spoke of cruelty reserved for those who knew no limits.

"Why?" My voice was calm, but curiosity curled beneath it like smoke.

"That pen," Clara murmured, fingers trembling as they curled into her sleeves, "has been laced with someone's twisted magic. If you touched it, you would've been swallowed whole — into a room stitched from riddles and silence. A place where you could scream until your voice breaks, and still no one would hear you."

Her words tasted like truth, bitter and lingering.

"But you kicked it," I pointed out, my voice softer now. "Wouldn't that count as contact?"

She shook her head, strands of hair sticking to the sweat gathering at her temple. "No... It needs skin. It craves warmth. Bone, flesh, the pulse beneath your fingertips. Shoes are just leather and rubber. They hold no soul."

Her eyes drifted back to the boy — the architect of this sick game — who merely offered a laugh that sounded more like something choking on itself.

"Just be careful," Clara said, voice dipping lower. "You're new. You don't want to end up... you know... a plaything."

I offered a nod, the weight of her words settling across my shoulders like a damp cloak. "Thank you for the warning."

There was silence, then her hand stretched toward me, trembling just slightly. "I'm Clara."

I took her hand — cold skin against mine — and held it for a breath longer than I meant to. "Hagarin."

A pause, then: "Can I ask... more about this place? This department?"

Clara sighed, her expression caught somewhere between pity and exhaustion, before she sank into the seat beside me.

"I'll tell you everything I can," she said, her voice no louder than a prayer, "in hopes it makes you feel a little less like prey."

When Clara settled beside me, I let my gaze linger on her — a habit born from survival rather than curiosity. Her hair, a shade too soft for this place, was braided into a bun plait, too delicate for a room that reeked of fear. The strands twisted like a noose, and at its center, her monocle gleamed like an artificial eye — an elegant restraint to a power I knew she could barely hold back.

"Where would you like to start?" Her voice cut through my observation like a scalpel, precise and clinical.

I averted my gaze, as though looking too long would unravel me. "I suppose... we could start with the culture here. What do people do in a place like this?"

Clara's smile was thin, barely there, like a ghost caught between walls. "Culture," she repeated, as though the word was foreign, a relic long buried beneath dust and rot.

She folded her hands in her lap, knuckles pale. "This building breathes silence. Not by design, but by consequence. We are few — a species on the verge of extinction, clinging to corridors stained with the mistakes of those who came before us. But we all share the same disease."

Her voice dropped into something brittle. "The disease of seeing too much."

I felt my stomach twist. "And the subjects you study?"

"Psychology, History, Philosophy, Sociology, Politics," she listed them like names on gravestones.

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would taste bitter.

"Because if you lose your mind, your power will devour you." Her words carried the weight of a funeral prayer. "This place is a coffin for those who couldn't hold their own sanity together — their powers grew wild, untethered, until they swallowed them whole. If you can't control your mind, you can't control the time."

Clara scratched at her temple, the skin red and irritated, as though her own thoughts were a splinter beneath the flesh.

"These subjects aren't about learning — they're about survival. You study history so you don't repeat your own mistakes. You study psychology so you understand the voices crawling inside your head. Philosophy teaches you to question your reality before it eats you alive. Sociology reminds you that you aren't the only monster walking these halls. And politics..."

She trailed off, but another voice filled the void.

"Politics teaches you the rules of power. Knowing when to kneel — and when to slit a throat."

The footsteps were soft, measured, each one deliberate like the ticking of a clock. A boy stood before us, the air around him heavy with calculation. His uniform was too neat, his posture too perfect, like he belonged in a portrait rather than this crumbling room.

His smile was polite, but his eyes were scalpel-sharp, stripping me bare in a single glance. "Sanity is currency here," he said. "If you lose it, your power consumes you from the inside out. So, we sharpen our minds until they're blades — because the only way to survive this place is to cut first."

The room felt colder.

The boy offered no introduction but just a polite smile. "Right, no need to sound like a walking thesis just to make us feel stupid, Clarence," Clara shot back, her voice light, but her eyes rolling with enough force to tilt the earth off its axis.

Clarence chuckled — a low, deliberate sound that somehow felt like it belonged to someone who knew exactly how and when you would die. "Just doing my civic duty. Our new little time anomaly deserves the full orientation package, doesn't she?" His gaze flickered to me, sharp but amused.

I rested my chin in my palm, already exhausted. "If we're supposed to be trained into functional, sane people, why's that guy..." —my finger lazily pointed at the slumped figure drooling onto his desk, the one who rolled the pen towards me— "acting like he's escaped from a psychological horror film?"

Clara snorted. "Oh, him? That's Ezra. He's new, like you. Except he skipped the 'gradual breakdown' part and just speed ran straight into 'hopelessly unhinged.'"

Clarence leaned against the desk, his expression darkening into something more serious — the kind of look you'd wear at a eulogy. "He's a walking cautionary tale. His sanity wasn't just fractured — it was pried apart, piece by piece, until the light itself showed him everything he couldn't bear to see."

He paused, his fingers tracing patterns on the desk absentmindedly. "You see, for some of us, the power doesn't break us. It shows us how broken we already were. And once the mind is exposed to too much truth, it shatters like glass."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say when someone described a fate you could practically feel breathing down your neck.

Clara, mercifully, broke the silence. "Anyway!" she clapped her hands together, trying to inject some life back into the room. "Moral of the story — don't touch random objects, don't stare too long at the void, and for god's sake, never trust the vending machine on the third floor."

"Why the vending machine?" I blinked, confused by the sudden shift.

Clarence just smiled. "It eats more than your money."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several days have passed, and I suppose I've begun to adapt to the peculiar rhythm of this place. The atmosphere here is unlike the main building, which was constantly alive with noise and bustling students. In stark contrast, this department feels almost isolated, its silence only interrupted by the occasional conversation or the faint hum of distant footsteps.

Throughout these days, I've found myself gravitating toward Clara and Clarence. They seem to have taken it upon themselves to ensure I don't entirely lose my mind in this strange environment. When they're occupied, however, Ezra tends to appear — often without warning. His presence alone is unnerving, considering our first encounter involved him casually rolling a cursed pen in my direction. A pen, mind you, capable of trapping me within a labyrinth of riddles until I somehow managed to solve my way out. To put it lightly, Ezra's existence leaves me with an enduring sense of wariness.

At the moment, our class is gathered in the gymnasium. Today's exercise focuses on building connections — not through casual conversation, but through direct access to each other's memories. The process is simple in theory: remove any object that dampens our abilities, select a partner, and lock eyes until the walls around their past begin to collapse, allowing us a glimpse into their personal history. It is, apparently, a foundational technique for understanding time travel. For some reason, the moment I removed my mask, nothing happened. No sudden flood of memories, no overwhelming rush of visions — just the ordinary sight of the gymnasium and my classmates. It was almost unsettling how quiet my mind remained, like a static screen where chaos should have been.

Perhaps it's this building itself — designed to keep us on edge, to suppress what we rely on most. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of subtle tricks they embedded into these walls. A spell? A mechanism? Or maybe something much simpler, like the weight of constant observation. Whatever it was, the absence of noise in my head felt louder than any commotion ever could.

"I'll be assigning partners," our proctor announced, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands. A collective groan rippled through the room, though none of us were particularly surprised. Of course, we couldn't choose for ourselves — not here.

"Hagarin and Ezra."

Ah, yes. The radiant beacon of my existence. How fortunate I am.

From behind me, I heard the unmistakable twin reactions of Clara and Clarence — a synchronized oh that carried both sympathy and amusement. I turned to them, silently pleading for some form of rescue, but all they offered in return were sheepish smiles and helpless shrugs.

Before I could plot my escape, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around with unnecessary enthusiasm. "Aren't you the luckiest? Partnered with me!" Ezra's grin stretched ear to ear, radiating the kind of chaotic energy that could set off a fire alarm just by existing.

"More like a curse," I replied, shaking my head. "You cling like a wasp that refuses to die."

"And you," he said, utterly unfazed, "are the honey — all sweet and easy to mess with."

"Dear god..." I muttered with a cringed reaction etched on my face, turning to walk away, only for him to seize my wrist and pull me back into his orbit, cackling like a villain in a low-budget play.

He's going to be the death of me someday — that much I'm certain of.

The proctor continued announcing the other pairs, though his voice felt distant, like a soft hum beneath the weight of my own thoughts. Soon enough, it was time to begin.

We were instructed to sit across from our assigned partners, knees barely apart, eyes locked. No masks, no objects to soften the edges of our abilities. Just direct eye contact, until the world around us dissolved into memory.

The rules were clear, spoken with the sternness of someone who had undoubtedly witnessed the consequences of disobedience: Do not touch anything. Do not move anything. Do not allow yourself to be seen. Do not speak to anyone. Observe, nothing more. A quiet ghost in the river of time.

I met his gaze, and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe.

His eyes — mismatched and striking — were a story in themselves. One a rich amber, warm like sunlight spilling through ancient windows; the other a deep, stormy blue, like the sky moments before thunder shatters the silence. They pulled me in, gently at first, then all at once, like falling into a trance where the edges between past and present began to blur.

Somehow, without meaning to, I found myself wondering — if eyes could hold someone's entire history, what kind of story would his tell me?

A blur crawled into my mind, cold and relentless — like fingers dragging me under the surface of a frozen lake.

The flood of memories didn't arrive gently, nor did it feel like a tender unveiling of his past. It was violence wrapped in silence, the kind of silence that pulses against your ears when screams are too hoarse to escape. Whispers slithered through the cracks in my consciousness, fragmented mutterings, desperate pleas, the sound of skin hitting skin, the begging — oh god, the begging to live.

And that is the story of Ezra.

A boy born into the middle ground — not poor enough to be pitied, not wealthy enough to be spared. His life was average in the cruelest sense, hovering just above ruin, surrounded by people too broken to love him properly. Those smiles and bursts of manic energy were a carefully crafted mask, because the truth was too ugly to show.

Deliberately ignored by the very hands meant to protect him, Ezra learned survival the hard way. His mother — the woman meant to fill his stomach and soothe his fears — turned to drugs instead, letting substances take the place of responsibility. The house became a prison, the walls soaked with the stench of neglect. And when she wasn't a ghost, she was a monster.

She made sure his body bore the weight of her frustrations. Bruises blooming like rotting flowers, bones learning to break before they could fully grow. There were nights he couldn't walk, mornings he woke up wondering if his legs would ever carry him again.

And yet, here he sits — bright-eyed, loud-mouthed, and relentlessly alive.

But now I know the truth.

Every smile is a desperate defiance. Every laugh is a scream buried under his tongue. Every careless act of chaos is a child daring the world to break him again.

And in this flood of someone else's pain, I realized: some people aren't born survivors — they're made into them.

I wanted to help him.

It wasn't a fleeting thought, nor some heroic impulse — it was instinct, primal and unforgiving. My bones screamed at me to reach out, to shatter the rules, to tear through the veil that separated my reality from his.

But I couldn't.

Because the rules are absolute.

Do not touch. Remain unseen. Just watch.

So I watched. I watched as he collapsed onto the cold, filthy ground, limbs trembling from the weight of bruises layered over bones too fragile for this kind of life. His breathing was shallow, the kind of breath that doesn't expect to last.

And when I thought that was the end — that this was where his story would end in a puddle of blood and neglect — she came.

An old woman with shaking hands and kindness carved into every line on her face. She scooped him up like he was something fragile and precious, like broken things were meant to be cared for, not discarded.

She gave him warmth, food, and clothes that didn't hang off him like skin he was waiting to shed. She gave him a home, not just a house. And for the first time, he tasted love. Real love — the kind without conditions, without fists hiding behind smiles.

"What's a wife?" young Ezra asked one day, small fingers tugging at her sleeve as they sat by a hearth that crackled softly — the only sound that didn't hurt his ears.

The old woman smiled, gentle and sad. "A wife is someone you'll love — someone you'll never turn your back on. She's like a seed you plant, one that grows into something beautiful if you care for it properly. Promise me, Ezra. When you find someone, treat her right. Be the kind of man your father never was."

And for a while, it seemed like fate would be kinder to him.

But trauma doesn't disappear — it festers. It finds ways to seep into every crack, even when you think you've sealed them shut.

So Ezra grew up with kindness in his heart, but madness wrapped around his mind like a second skin.

He became a man who laughed too loudly and too often, because silence was where the ghosts lived. He turned himself into a living spectacle — an insane clown wearing tragedy like face paint. But beneath the chaos, beneath the theatrics, he was still that little boy asking what love was, praying someone would show him how not to break it.

Ezra is a good man.

Just one who was built from broken things. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 3,743 words

Next Chapter

lil description for my story

Hagarin never expected her life to become a story worth telling. Born into an ordinary existence, her reality twists when she discovers her fate as a time traveler-one with no map, no prophecy, and no warning for what comes next As her twin sister Hanari once said: "You've got a hell of a story to tell." With each jump through time, Hagarin sees the world through fractured glimpses: memories that aren't hers, tragedies she can't stop, and horrors she must survive.

From battles against monsters and violent self-defense to heart-wrenching losses and fleeting moments of love, every fragment shapes the tale she's destined to live-and the one she's meant to tell. This is a story of fractured futures, untold horrors, fleeting romances, and the weight of knowing too much.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

proceed to Prologue

Madrid.

May 2024.

I'm writing a mystery novel. It's outlined, planned, and in the draft stage. I'm making it a webnovel and want to if people have any tips? What website should an aspiring web-novelist use? What stories do best online?

LitRPG, Fantasy, and Asian based stories due well in my communities. Which one due well in yours? Is cultivation and isekia popular?

I have a lot of questions.

It's scheduled to published in later months in order to have a build up of chapters when I'm too busy to write. Is that a good plan?

That arcs and most of the characters are planned out. Some of the minor characters just have 3 main traits, an ambition, and relation to the main character listed. Is that a good thing to have?

What else should I do?

Sean bienvenidos japonistasarqueologos a una nueva entrega, en esta ocasión nos vamos al fondo marino para ver unas de las mayores ruinas arqueológicas que están generando en la comunidad científica muchas controversias desde que fueron descubiertas en 1985. Dicha estructura se encuentra en Okinawa la cual está compuesta por las islas Ryukyu. - Las ruinas tienen unos 10.000 años de antigüedad ¿Hay dos teorías?La primera que dicen los científicos es: que es natural.La segunda es que es artificial.Yo he visto, todo el material registrado hasta el momento en fotos y vídeos para ser sinceros no me parece para nada natural hay puntos en lo que claramente que están trabajados por la mano del hombre. Sí nos imaginamos el montículo fuera de la superficie lo más probable es que se pareciera en su forma natural a una elevación en el terreno y lo más probable es que estuviera en su estado más virgen.-También hay que destacar que el nivel del mal sobre esas fechas era 120 veces más bajo que el actual, por lo que no sería raro que los moradores lo usaran como un lugar sagrado. Ya que para los japoneses el trabajo en roca no es nada nuevo y sobre todo construcciones colosales hechas en piedra como veremos en próximas publicaciones. - Espero que os haya gustado y espero vuestras opiniones y debates sobre el tema que nunca nos va a dejar de sorprender os deseo un feliz dia y una buena semana. - 日本の考古学者は新作を歓迎します。今回は海底に行き、1985年に発見されて以来、科学界で多くの論争を引き起こしている最大の考古学的遺跡の1つを見に行きます。琉球諸島。-遺跡は約1万年前のものですが、2つの説がありますか？科学者が最初に言うことは、それは自然なことだということです。二つ目は、それが人工的であるということです。これまでに写真やビデオに記録されたすべての資料は、正直なところ、私にはまったく自然に見えません。それらが人間の手によって明確に処理されている点があります。地表の外側のマウンドを想像すると、それは自然な形で地面の隆起に似ている可能性が高く、最も手付かずの状態である可能性が最も高いです。-また、当時の悪のレベルは現在の120分の1であったため、住民が聖地として利用することも珍しくありません。日本のロック作品は目新しいものではなく、特に将来の出版物で見られるように石で作られた巨大な構造です。-皆様のご愛顧を賜りますよう、よろしくお願い申し上げます。今後とも変わらぬご意見・ご感想をお待ちしております。 - Welcome japonistaarqueologos to a new installment, this time we go to the seabed to see one of the largest archaeological ruins that are generating many controversies in the scientific community since they were discovered in 1985. This structure is located in Okinawa, which is made up of the Ryukyu Islands. - The ruins are about 10,000 years old. Are there two theories? The first one that scientists say is: that it is natural. The second is that it is artificial. I have seen all the material recorded so far in photos and videos, to be honest, it does not seem natural at all to me. There are points that are clearly worked by the hand of man. If we imagine the mound off the surface, it most likely resembled in its natural form a rise in the ground and most likely it was in its most virgin state. - It should also be noted that the level of evil at that time was 120 times lower than today, so it would not be unusual for the inhabitants to use it as a sacred place. Since for the Japanese, rock work is nothing new and especially colossal constructions made of stone as we will see in future publications. - I hope you liked it and I look forward to your opinions and debates on the subject that will never cease to surprise us. I wish you a happy day and a good week.

I haven't done a book update on here in a minute so here's everything I've read since the last update 🥰 my favorites? Fourth Wing and Love Hypothesis lol

big things are coming

revisiting dreams/a dream idea

okay for context. sometimes i have a dream or a series of dreams in the past that i wake up without the memory of (not useful but it happens a lot given that i barely remember any dreams). anyway so, the plus side of this means that i can 'revisit' dreams that i don't completely remember having but will regain the memories of all the past dreams during the 'revisit'. The downside of the revisits is that i don't ever (as far as i know) ever get to return to that universe ever again.

last night's one has been the first in a couple of months (if anyone's interested i can talk about it later or maybe i willl anyway). the summary is kind of hard to describe because it's like a murder mystery except there's no murder and it's more of an arg hunt type thing. Think Cicada 3301, leaving their qr codes across countries in the 2010s. But the thing with this is that it's linked to this one website for the town/towns which is run by a group of kids, who everyone thinks is behind all this shit. for some reason, i know they aren't.

anyway, i was only back for part of my dream last night/ this morning and it was sort of like i was in the future of that dream, which is what also happened last time. and in the time in between the original and the revisit the 'clues' had either stopped turning up or people had chosen to ignore them.

the premise of these clues changes quite a bit, there's supposed to be a specific way to find them and they're in different places. sometimes it's a book code, sometimes its as easy as reading letters and putting them in the right order and sometimes they're really difficult to solve. At least a few of them have some disturbing words nearby in,,, like fridge magnet letter but if they stuck to walls. like the big clunky fridge magnets. maybe i'll find a pic later. last night's one was slaughter. don't know what that was about and don't want to know.

another general point that an area is part of a clue is that it will have a little spray paint or doodle of a specific animal. don't know if it was the same in the original but this one was a green owl. think duolingo green and i can't really remember the owl but it wasn't cartoony, it was really subtle.

i had to wake up before anything really happened but i solved that clue and it opened up something else/revealed some items or something (kind of video game style). i got a walkie talkie and some other things that i can't remember but were like survival type things maybe (a torch, etc.).

the follow up move was going to be using the walkie talkie to talk to the person(?) behind the entire thing(?) to find the next clue to go to and solve. (this one was in an alley way for some reason)

i think the reason i was doing it was to find out who was truly behind as i somehow knew it wasn't the kids (my friends?) behind the website, which was an orange and green coloured, tourist-style website.

the only real reason i'm telling you is because i know i won't return and i want to remember.

TL;DR: some sort of irl arg mystery following someone finding clues in random areas signified by a duolingo-green owl mark that has links to a website, made by kids who have nothing to do with it.

My inspiration... Part 4🖤

Ok so I've finally finished watching The Witcher (Zaklínač)

and......... I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT

The actors, costumes and the CGI were fantastic, but I was also blown away by the soundtracks and by Jaskiers songs.

I heard Toss the coin & Burn Butcher in multiple languages and I would like to say that every dubbed version is beautiful.

I like to watch movies and TV shows in their original languages but I decided to watch The Witcher in the Czech dubb. And I wasn't disappointed.

And also you know me..... I really adore Jaskier. He's such a sweetheart ❤️ I really want him to be save and to Geralt to protect him at all cost.

So I hope that at the end of this show we will get a wedding between Jaskier and Geralt. Honestly they deserve it.

Just look at them.....

They are destined to be together!!

Anyway thanks for reading this post and sharing my love for The Witcher series and Geraskier 🖤

Wait a second this reminds me of something.........................................

Another anime that completely changed my life.

I really can't explain how fucking clever is this anime, because I don't have enough brain cells to do so.

The plot is unique, the characters are well written and likeable (well some of them)

I saw Death note in eng dub and I am planing to watch it again, but in a japanese dub. Because let's be honest both of these versions are fucking gorgeous.

The characters: OK I actually like almost every of them.

But

I really dislike Misa.

I'm sorry, but she is just so annoying and whiny. Always complaining about something and is so naive and stupid it hurts.

I have even more respect for Light now. God, if I was Light I would kill her the very first moment she opened her mouth.

And she is rude to L and Matsuda (and everybody who isn't Light)

The fun character is Ryuk, which I love so much. He's sarcastic and I really enjoy his relationship with Light.

And his voice actors are fucking masters. I mean his rough voice is scary and entertaining at the same time.

Lawlight - okay this is the ship that I am obsessed with now. I just can't help it. The chemistry between these two is to much. They had better relationship then Light and Misa (but I guess I can't compare it like that, because Light manipulated with Misa. The thing is that I think that Misa know that Light was with her because he didn't have a choice.)

L' death broke my heart. And at that moment I was angry at Light, but in the end I still hoped that he will win. Because let's be honest Near was great character and detective, but he was too cold for me. L was more like awkward and unsure of how to act and interact with other people.

And there is also Mello. Which death did not hit me that much, but it still saddens me. Mello is the complete opposite of Near and I wanted more scenes between them. I wanted more development from their already unstable relationship.

Death note is just perfect, but there is a one character which I wanted to know more and that's Lights sister. (I don't even know her name anymore) We actually don't know anything about her other then that she is Lights younger sister. I hoped there would be more scenes between her and Light. And also her last moments in the show are sad.

Funny question : what happened with Lights Mom?

(I have no idea. So if you know, please write it down.)

So If you haven't seen death note, then go in your room and start watching. And enjoy the ride.

(and as always I am sorry for any mistakes I made in this post) ❤️☕

Writing Prompt #24

Congratulations Patient [Redacted]...

After 17 long years with us, you are ready to be let out into society!

We have equipped you with a supply bag and a weapon, as well as a bottle of your medicine. No refills once you leave, though.

All of us will miss you, but we will be sure to leave your room as you left it in the event that you need to return.

Good luck, and don't die out there!

Writing Prompt #11

Events seemed to repeat and overlap, yet time kept ticking onward.

Over and over, the same scenarios played out, but the hour never turned back. Only forward.

What kind of purgatory was this?

Writing Prompt #7

"More dangers lurk in the dark than they realize, my Queen."

Writing Prompt #1

A man in his late 30's dies of unforeseen circumstances, but finds himself unable to move on to the afterlife. The angel and demon who keep bugging him don't seem to have any answers, and Death is starting to get annoyed with being unable to do his proper duties. It also doesn't help that in his first week of being a ghost, he's late to his own funeral.

Literally. He's sitting in the front seat of the car transporting his body to the funeral, and it's been stuck in traffic for hours.

There are no hearts for anyone outside this home.

Chapter 1 -- And the world didn't weep for joy (but it gave a great, relieved sigh)

A red sun rises in the great beyond. The sky swims with dark oranges, reds, and purples– a bruised, bleeding sky. The world awakens with one notion carried within the fleshy, pink muscle of their ever-working brains: Jackson Mayfield has come home.

–

“–we are all so relieved to see the young Mayfield son returned to his family’s arms safe and sound after three years of total mystery–”

“–Where has he been? What has he–”

“–possible kidnapping? Or, perhaps magic–”

Violet turned off the radio. A long hour had been spent attempting to found one channel not speaking of young ‘Jackson Mayfield’s’ return home to no fruition. 

Jackson Mayfield wasn’t cared about. At least, not before all of this. He was whispered about on those rare nights people dared to question just where he might be, what he might be doing, or if he was alive at all. His family never addressed any rumors that surrounded him, avoided any mention of him like the plague; it was as though his name had some sort of taboo attached to it, like if spoken, a dark fate would befall those who dared to raise their voices. He had ‘gone missing’ three years prior, leaving behind only a mockery of a bouquet and ashes and an empty seat at every gala that no one dared to touch. 

Her brother had gone the same way. And if people had cared so little for the disappearance of a young man of the House of Mayfield, son of Duke Burton himself, then they cared for the disappearance of her little brother even less. 

(Peasant, they called him when she went to the authorities. Called them. Commoners. And no one cared for the lives of the common. 

Unless, of course, that life inconvenienced them.) 

A hand slammed down on the desk in front of her, setting the contents haphazardly thrown onto it rattling and knocking her out of her thoughts. Her hands relaxed from their curled position reflexively. 

Oscar ‘Oz’ Hall. The journalist she worked under, or rather, apprenticed under. (Really, she just shadowed him, but sometimes she felt more like his handler than anything else.) 

He was a tall man of unimposing figure and a sharp, mischievous face that often had possible interviewees scampering off or avoiding him entirely. A large grin split his face in half– victorious– his wild red hair falling in front of his face and only serving to make him look all the more fox-like and less and less man. 

Violet shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs in what she hoped would come across as in a casual manner. He had given her that same smile two months ago, just before he threw himself over a chocolate fountain and totally ruined the dress of a young noble lady who they were lucky enough to find out that she found it spectacularly funny. 

“Yes?” she said, holding back a sigh. 

His grin became a tad strained. “Yes, what?”

Violet did sigh this time. “You want to say something; say it.”

Despite her bluntness, a trait many of the previous journalists that she had shadowed before had not appreciated as much as Oscar did, ‘insubordination’ they called it, Oscar’s grin came back full-force then some. “There’s a story in this.”

Understatement of the century but before Violet could tell him as such, he continued on. “A story that we can unearth. Jackson Mayfield–” he spread his arms, hands moving wildly with a flair. “–second born son, back after all these years, yet his family doesn’t say a word other than ‘Oh, we are so happy he’s home’!” He guffawed. 

Violet nodded along like she always did when he got into these jittery, excitable moods, hands tapping on the arm of her chair in a continuous pattern– pinkie, ring finger, middle, pointer, thumb and back again– and leaning forward with feigned interest. (It really wasn’t all that hard to fake it, she was interested, just not for the reasons the journalist was.) 

“Yes, that is suspicious; you’d think they would give more of a statement when the boy has been missing for so long,” she acknowledged. 

Oscar’s face brightened further, if possible. “Exactly! There’s obviously something they’re trying to hide and I’m going to find it.” His grin was full of teeth now, his eyes set into a determined stare as his eyes raised and lingered on some great beyond likely full of glory and girls and lots and lots of birds full of feathers he was terribly allergic to. 

Violet cocked a brow. “You are not going to be uncovering this.”

His expression crumbled entirely, face going stormy. “Violet, do you not–”

She cut him off. “I will be handling this story.”

For a long moment, his features fell into blankness, as though he had just short-circuited. Then, the grin was back, only all affectionate and happy and proud and all that icky stuff that had her face flushing as he threw himself unceremoniously over his desk to clasp his hands over her cheeks, causing a mug filled to the brim with pens to tip over and roll to the ground, shattering upon impact. But he ignored it in favor of cooing in her face and embarrassing her entirely. 

“Oh, Vi,” he gasped, actual tears glistening in his eyes. (She’s seen him watch and document the death of a puppy with the most unaffected expression before; what the hell–) “Darling, you’ve finally come out of that horrible shell of yours and come to the limelight; I am so proud–”

Violet did not flush because she was flustered. She did not. She was… fuming with rage. Yeah. Totally. “You ridiculous, ridiculous man– get your hands off of me you oversized lunatic–”

Oscar treated her like an overly eager toddler would treat a disgruntled cat— roughly bit affectionately. “Glory is an avoidant muse, dear, but I believe with enough effort–”

“You absolute idiot, I will–”

It took several minutes, a couple swats, and a few more broken mugs for him to lay off of her and sit. (Albeit on his desk but still, the small victories.) 

She could not get rid of that stupid look on his face, but she could be mad about it, so she glared at him fiercely. His grin grew impossibly wider. 

“Now, my dear flower–”

“It is Violet-”

“My dear flower, to secure an interview with the Mayfield family, you will have–”

Violet’s eyebrows drew together tightly. An interview? What is he on about? “I’m not going to be attempting to get an interview with them,” the apprentice said slowly, as though explaining something rather obvious. And it was. To her, at least. 

Oscar went deathly still, slowly cocking his head in a way that reminded her of a prowling feline. “You are… not?”

Violet snorted in that unladylike manner her mother hadn’t managed to beat out of her. “Of course not, they’ll answer none of my questions and leave me with more than I started with. It would do neither of us any good.”

A glint shone in the redhead’s gaze, a realization forming behind his chestnut brown eyes. “So… how do you plan to ‘crack’ this?” 

Violet shrugged, attempting to seem apathetic to his stare. “I’m infiltrating, of course.”

And if Violet let out a squawk that birds would be incredibly jealous when he launched himself at her again, for an embrace this time, that was nobody else’s business but her own.

--

This is for my Creative Writing class, but I decided to share it with the world as well just to see if people would enjoy it. I am not open to criticism so please, just enjoy what you are reading or, if not, scroll away. This will spare us both the heartache of hatred or any animosity. I will admit this is not to the best of my ability for I initially wrote this extremely sleep deprived and cranky and wanting a 'pick me up'.

IDW Starscream X Reader

Rendezvous Part 4

Warnings: none

You pack a few things to take to the lake with you as you plan to be out there until nightfall. There was no one to stop you from going on this little expedition of yours. You had left all of your friends behind when you and your ex had broken up. A new start in a new state. Of course your mother’s death had come around the same time you were looking for somewhere to go. The stars aligned and you ended up in nowhere Appalachia. You had tried to make friends here and get along with your new coworkers. Unfortunately, that had proven more difficult than you had expected. Making and keeping friends as an adult in an established area is hard. After you had piled all the necessities into your car, you gave one last look in the mirror. The unsightly scar on your forehead a glaring reminder that something awful had happened. You sigh as a heavy feeling weighs your shoulders down. It was time to find out exactly what.

“Those idiots! I told them to be careful around the falling ice! Those caves aren’t stable enough anymore!” Starscream slams a data pad against the wall next to Skywarp’s head. The other mech doesn’t flinch as if used to his brother’s outburst, shrugging and putting his hands up in surrender. “Listen I told em but they wouldn’t hear it and now one of us is going to have to report our losses to Megatron. Since you were in charge of this whole thing like you insisted…” Starscream didn’t let him finish. Shouldering past the purple mech to go accept the consequences of his most recent blunder.

The drive to the lake is uneventful and filled with dread. Turning onto that all too familiar dirt track, you notice that the snow was beginning to melt. Though winter was far from over, it was going to be hard to find any useful clues in the slush. You park and don your backpack and snow spikes. Slippery was an understatement. All you needed was to end up in the middle of that lake again. You shudder at the thought. Making your way around the lake, you notice a few things out of place. Broken tree branches, large gashes made in the ground partially covered in snow, and the oddest out of the bunch was the completely shattered boulders in the clearing nearby. When you were younger, you and your sibling used to come and play on these giant boulders. Now they look like they had been bulldozed. On closer inspection, some appear to have been melted. None of this made sense. If it was some new site for construction you’d see yellow tape right? Perhaps a few orange cones? You look up at the broken branches again. Something big came through here. Something impossibly big.

Wiping the energon off of his freshly split lip, Starscream skulks back to his habisuit. His wings droop tiredly behind him. He’s sick of this. Sick of Megatron’s temper. Sick of the incompetent fools he has to command. Sick of taking the blame. It’s as if his leader enjoys seeing him fail. Enjoys taking out his frustrations on him. As much ambition as he has, he can’t imagine a world where Megatron would willingly give up the power he has to the seeker. With a loud frustrated growl he throws the chair at his desk against the wall leaving a dent in the metal. Venting heavily he sends his fist into the wall next. Yelling his frustration to no one in particular. No one to listen because this is a brutal reminder that he’s alone. Always alone. As he leans his helm up against the wall, baring his denta in a grimace and shuttering his optics. His thoughts drift back to that little human. Reaching its tiny hand out to him. As if he were the only one that could fix them. He was the one who nearly froze them to death anyway. Of course it was his responsibility. Everything he touches ends up hurt. Pushing away from the wall he heads towards the exit. He wanted to be alone and he knew the perfect place.

It was nearly nightfall. Dusk had cast purple and pink light over the picturesque mountain lake you had been exploring all day. You sigh and put the notepad and pencil you had just been using to scribble on away. Nothing made sense and you feel like you had wasted a whole day trying to find something out. Kicking a rock as frustration pricks through you, you head back to your car defeated. That’s when you hear it. The distant whine of jet engines. Just as the sun dips below the horizon, plunging the lake in a deep inky blue. You turn towards the noise and reach for your flashlight. The sound was…familiar. You could swear it sounded just like how you remembered in your semiconscious state. You decide to hide amongst the destroyed rocks to see what was making that noise. What you saw made your heart nearly burst out of your chest.

Rouge - Prompt Based

I’m a bit new here, and usually stay for art and any interesting pieces of fan-fiction that are related. Funny enough, it’s not really related at all. However, I’m feeling a bit creative to actually write something. A prompt that I found on TikTok and the ideas were just brilliant that I had to share them before my brain forgot them.

Content Warning: Murder, mild blood and gore.

Please notify me if I missed anything.

Rouge - A series of mysterious deaths linked to the color red leads a young detective into the deepest rabbit hole of her life.

The color rouge, specifically red rouge. Typically any kind of red or reddish-colored make-up that's used for tinting a person's cheeks.

However, in this context, it stained the victim's body. Her dress drenched, face frozen and petrified, their body methodically placed holding the infamous bouquet of poppies. Jewelry shining with each flashing light of the camera. Her feet dirty.

The medical coroner walked with his assistant trailing behind and arrived. My partner and I greeted them.

"To whom do I have the displeasure of, Audrey?" Benji asked. "We still haven't identified them yet but this marks the 4th victim." I stated before continuing to take pictures. My eyes drifting between each of the splotches of rouge littering the plaza. "The killer has been getting more bold lately."

"So, what'd ya got Benji?" My mentor, Larissa, questioned. Benji gave them a pointed look before starting.

While doc squatted down his assistant settled down the bags while Benji spoke. "Well, I can see there's no pooling of the victim's blood but her dress is soaked in it, suggesting they were moved. The gash to her neck, slightly cleaned as well. And they positioned them to hold the flowers as we’ve seen with past victims. Their shoes are missing as well.” Benji rambled. “Some bruising is present in the shape of a hand. Maybe we can get some fingerprints.”

Larissa turned to me. “Your turn, gimme a rundown.”

“The job seems a bit sloppy than usual, rushed even, which the killer might’ve been walked in on before finishing.” My head signaling over to the maintenance workers being given interviews. “The plaza is decorated in spots of rouge.” Larissa seemed satisfied. “We can check with cameras around the plaza to get a better view of our poppy killer. And a bit later with the local bars.” Larissa told me.

Benji's gloved hands pulled out the bouquet and examined it pulling out a paint card simply titled ‘rouge’ before handing it to his assistant to bag and tag it. He began to do some other tasks before starting up again.

"The time of death occurred between 4-5am but I won't know more until I've got them on the slab." Benji said. As he and his assistant began to lift and cart the body away.

Larissa began to trek over to the maintenance workers while I stayed behind to take more pictures before calling cleaners.

It won’t be long before the press are clamoring over us.

I don’t know if I’ll do continue to add to the prompt but I know if I did certain details may be subject to change.

- Was originally posted on my Wattpad account

genderfluids:

The question is

I'm genderfluid

Is this subject to change if I retake the quiz???

Low-key lol-ing

Take the quiz for yourself if you're interested! It's completely free and short, enjoy yourself!

https://www.idrlabs.com/gender-coordinates/test.php

Gotta support the girliessss

Okay so like... story idea?

I've recently been getting back into writing but not rlly on here as real ones would know (sorry for my absense I've missed u pookie pies), and I think I want to write a book/story or whatever.

I haven't got my idea all fleshed out yet but here goes:

Synopsis

Memories. The most precious resource in the world – the grandest luxuries and the deepest shames – are now dredged from the deepest corners of shadows and strung across the gilded necks of  high society. Escapism at its finest, new memories are hard to come by, and can only be stolen and pried from minds whose hearts have stopped beating.

She (the main character whose name I haven't decided on yet) was murdered. Blood inking over cold white skin. That was before she was woken up. But now she's awake, and she knows something is missing. Memories were stolen from her.

Now she's thrust back into what she's told is her old life, trying to piece things together without the glue of her memories, hiding the truth of her murder from those who surround her. She was warned not to trust anyone.

Not even the person who wishes to help her, and certainly not the other one, the one in the shadows.

Aspects of the book

I would say definitely a LOT of mystery. A couple time jumps throughout the story as she finds some of her memories back and of course it's also about her trying to solve her own murder and why and what's missing from her mind.

Of course there's some of my favourite tropes in it as well: "who did this to you", grumpy and hates everyone and pretends to hate her but doesn't really, sunshine/golden retriever, mysterious unveilings, backstabbing etc, love thats not rlly allowed (i forgot the name for that) :)

Unbearable, searing fucking tension and slow burn and miscommunication and a shit ton of angst because why tf not, still deciding whether there will be spice but ill see....

BUT THE THING I NEED HELP WITH IS THE SETTING!!!! I don't really know when this novel will be set, whether it's a sort of dystopic novel world where it's a little bit futuristic a LITTLE like never let me go but i dont rlly like that book so idk, or if I should do it a little bit old but non-descript fantasy, a little bit like Priory of the Orange Tree if anyone's read that.

Okay THANK YOU and if u can, pls repost or share so I can get max max max input on this pls and thank you ily

@hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut @cozmicwonder @sunet-lore @torukmaktoskxawng @fkarelyxoxo @pandorxxx @pandoraslxna @theblueflower05 @tojisun @vivid-ink @neteyamsyawntu @aperiraa @hotdsworld @xstarsdiary @xylianasblog

Try to translate

And my main OC Ramona Rosa now has a stim board too