Writer’s block. That dreaded time where it
seems you have angered the muses and they have left you high and dry with that
little blinking cursor staring at you. It happens to everyone. Nobody can be
totally on their game every time. It sucks, but you know what…you have to deal
with it. Like I said, nobody can be on their game all the time but that doesn’t
mean you should just sit back and let the block consume you. As much as I
would like to believe that the muses are actually out there guiding the arts,
they aren’t and as such it’s up to us to keep the words flowing. I know it
sounds harsh and I’ll admit that I have definitely shut my laptop in
frustration when I couldn’t quite figure out where I wanted the scene to go,
but the truth is that the only way to get past a creative block is to keep
working. How else can you expect to solve your problem if you don’t work at it?
It’s like working through a difficult math equation: you won’t solve it by
dreamily gazing out the window, you have to work it through. That said, there
are a few tips that you can use to help you work out your block and get back on
the road with your characters.
Actively search out inspiration. If
you’re at the stage where you are facing a completely blank screen and have
literally no idea what you want to write about, this is probably where you need
to start. Yes, sometimes the idea for a wonderful story that you just
absolutely have to write appears to you in a dream or while sitting on the bus.
But sometimes you have that creative writing assignment for school or you’ve
just finished your previous project and are looking for something new and the
well is dry. This is when you can
actively go looking for inspiration. Search the internet for writing prompt
ideas (*ahem* such as at certain blogs), look for intriguing photographs that
can spark your interest, read through song lyrics, poems or look at your book
collection. As a history student, I find that there is lots inspiration in the
misguided adventures of those before us. It doesn’t have to be a fully-fledged
idea right off the bat but if you can find a spark of something it will make
the next parts much easier. That is, possible. Be warned because this step can
easily go wrong. One minute you’re looking at writing prompts the next you’re
watching a dog learning to swim. Stay. On. Task.
Don’t be afraid to be stupid. Okay, so
you have a tiny inkling of an idea. You have no idea who is going to be in it,
what the plot points are or where it’s going to go, but it’s a start. Now sit
down, write down the idea you have and then go crazy writing down anything that
comes to mind. Literally anything. It doesn’t have to make sense, it doesn’t
have to be good, and you certainly don’t have to use it all later. All you’re
looking for is one good idea that you get another idea from and then
another…until you actually have something resembling a plot.
You don’t have to go chronologically. I
know this might sound odd to some people or maybe, like me, it’s not something
you would have considered until someone points out that it’s an option. Just
because you’re writing a chronologically linear story (or maybe you’re not,
whatever) doesn’t mean you have to write it that way. I once had this idea for
one point of one scene basically at the end of the story. I can’t remember
exactly how it all unravelled but basically that idea expanded somewhat until I
had the idea for two characters and then I worked those two out and quite some
time later I actually had a story out of it. It’s a way to help you think in a
more fluid way. If you can’t think of what happens next, maybe think about what
happens before. This isn’t for everyone, I know some people really like to
stick to the story scene by scene but it’s an option worth exploring if you’re
Take a step back (but not for too long).
Breaks are good. When you work yourself for too long whether you’re studying,
writing, practicing a musical instrument or sport, it’s important to take
occasional breaks to keep yourself from getting drained. However, a mistake some
people make with writer’s block is to shrug, close the document/notebook and
say “eh, I’m sure I’ll have an idea tomorrow.” Maybe you will, probably you
won’t (see actively search out inspiration above). If you’ve been on a roll and
suddenly find you’ve hit a snag, maybe you’ve been at it for too long and need
a few minutes to refresh. But just like that test you need to study for or
essay that’s due tomorrow, this doesn’t mean you should completely walk away.
But how long should you work for?
Set goals. Some writers like to set
daily word count goals to meet. Events like NaNoWriMo, which encourages writers
to write 50,000 words in the month of November (or 1,666 words a day. Isn’t
that a lovely amount?), can help train you to set goals for yourself and to
work on your writing every day. You can also set a goal to finish a chapter by
a certain day, or reach a point in your outline. Personally, even though I did
participate in NaNo one year, I don’t like this set up even though others swear
by it. There are days where I can pump out pages and pages and there are others
where I need to stop and rethink a few points, feel like I need to develop a
character a little more or something else of that sort which means the actual
word count doesn’t go up much despite the fact that I’m still working on the
project. I’m also a full-time student with a part-time job so I feel like this
doesn’t quite suit me. This is why I personally prefer to set a certain time to
work instead. Sometimes I go over and others, such as around finals, I can’t
make all of it. And that’s okay. We all have lives and stuff happens, so
don’t beat yourself up if you can’t make the goal every day. But this is why
it’s important to set realistic goals that fit you. If the goal is there and
you really make the effort to stick to it as much as you can it will go a long
way to keep you focused on the project when you need to be. Writing even a
little bit is way better than nothing at all.
Written by Yours Truly, ask-sadisticdark. I have promised a story at 1,000 followers, and here we are! I am ever so glad that you all decided to remain with me, a blubbering and rambling mess of a Figment. Without further ado, here we begin.
WARNING: This story details a stressful situation with mild (very mild, only mentions of blood), mocking, and vulgar. If this does not appeal to you, I urge you to not complete this story. Thank you.
The night never used to effect you.
For some points in your life, you never even noticed the change of the day. The computer screen blaring its blue light right into your eyes made it hard to realize that at some point, sunlight failed to gleam its way past your window curtains. But things change.
And your fears changed with them.
Darkiplier’s return hadn’t struck you much when it first occurred. You had been excited and enthralled by the momentum of it all, but there was no true fear. But as it was said… things change. And things changed very drastically on one particular blustering, lonely night.
You remember it vividly. It was dark, the wind was crashing like tidal waves against the panels of your house, but you paid almost no mind to it. It’s desperate warning howls against cold and bitter air never seemed to register its way into your head. You were busy, far too busy, to listen. Instead, your attentions were eagerly set upon one particular youtube channel, and to one particular youtuber, who’s smile and stubble always seemed to burn a piece of you even brighter. Every time his video started, your entire body always relaxed. Every time his voice rolled from the speakers of your computer, you were already fixated.
“Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier and welcome-”
Another horrible gurgling sound of the wind smacking against the tree branches almost drowned out the sounds of Mark speaking. But you were determined to listen, you were an avid lover of the Subnautica series, after all. It started as usual, Mark had his character standing out into the empty abyss of the sea, looking towards the horizon and blabbering his thoughts about his loneliness and plans to rebuild a base somewhere deep underwater. And you loved every second of it. You loved his goofy childish fear of the creatures bellowing from beyond. You loved his ambitions and truest, deepest, desire to learn more about the secrets hidden bellow ocean waves.
That is when everything went horribly wrong.
It was about ten minutes into the video. Mark had his Seamoth floating into the endless chasms of the trenches of the deep, darkness surrounding him, eery music screeching beneath his words. There was an abrupt beeping sound that sounded much like a computer error note, and the youtube video was cut off, glitched into place in the midst of Mark’s opening mouth.
The sudden file that abruptly popped up in the center of your screen made you jerk in your seat. Leaning back after realizing how closely you had been leaning, your eyes stared upon the digital manila envelope that sat right smack in the middle of the youtube video, innocent but very, very odd. In bold black letters beneath the folder, it read
Instead of feeling fear, you scowled in annoyance. Damn bots and their malware. You quickly clicked away from the envelope, and it brought you back to the youtube screen, where you were able to begin the video again. In just mere moments, you completely forgot all about that strange, random digital file.
Mark’s humorous statements, and the surprising calm of the wind battering the window pane, caused you to begin relaxing again. When the loud bling sound arrived for the second time, only about five minutes after deleting the first file, you almost gave a gasp in surprise. The file, in all its small digital glory, popped back up onto the midst of the computer screen, sitting patiently, quietly, unassuming. But the words bellow had changed. In that same bold font, rigid and black, it read;
“I Said Read Me.”
This one caused your attention. This one, you could feel, caused for your stomach to awkwardly flutter in a mixture of nervous curiosity. This was definitely no malware, no bot had ever sent another message after being declined with such demand. Your hand on the mouse, suddenly becoming slightly slick, slowly pulled the cursor over the file, highlighting it in preparation to click. But you hesitated.
What if this absolutely fucked up your computer? Implanted a virus or some type of device to stalk you while you slept. You had heard of the stories before, those horrible nightmarish instances where someone was kidnapped by a freak viewing them from their computer screen…. But this felt… different. Somehow, this felt… safe. You had no explanation as to why, and you rarely ever trusted your judgement. But without another pause, you tapped the file to beckon it open.
The file disappeared, and into another quick moment, a blank empty page took its place, only taking up about half of the screen in a small rectangular shape. The page, in same bolded black, only read a few words.
“Mind Or Body?”
And beneath those words were two empty boxes, one with an M beside it, and the other with a B. They were waiting to be checked.
At this point, you were beyond puzzled. What did the question even mean? Was this some sort of advertisement? It couldn’t have been, advertisements were never ones to be mysterious. They immediately wanted you to know their name and they motives. This was just… bizarre.
“Mind Or Body?”
You removed your hand from the mouse, and slowly rubbed the cold and sweating fingertips of yours across your cheeks, desperately trying to understand what it was initially asking. Was it based off attraction? Perhaps that was it… intelligence or beauty, perhaps, was the underlying cause. You had to assume so, because it certainly wasn’t giving any further clues.
Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth, scowling in an attempted concentration as a slow breath drew from you. On top of trying to discover where this file had come from, and why, you were also trying to choose between the two options.
What did it matter, really anyway? What type of strange poll was this, and how did it affect anything?
In a fit of “I don’t care”, you wiggled your cursor across the screen before randomly choosing one of the options. You think you ended up clicking on Body, but you weren’t completely sure.
The page disappeared in a silent blink, leaving the canvas of the youtube page up to its fullest colors. But despite the eagerly awaiting adventures that were going to occur in the deep, you failed to start the video again. You merely stared, blankly, unseeing of the bold red outline of the webpage. You were too intensely in thought, and too intent on finding out what that file had exactly done to the likes of your computer.
You ran a malware check, a virus check, and a few treatment diagnostics, almost certain some type of disruption surely had made its way to the database. But, the computer seemed certain that all was well, as certain as it was that it couldn’t find the source of that file, or the history of its appearance.
Satisfied, only partially, that all was well, you shrugged off the experience and assumed that whatever poll you had just taken was going to some sort of research facility, somewhere in the world. A strange, mysterious, unknown facility, but a facility nonetheless. Your hand fell upon the mouse again, and you moved your cursor across the screen in order to reopen your page again.
You only got about half way.
The entirety of your screen froze, or at least, that’s what you could determine. No matter how aggressively you swiped your mice across your desk, around in circles, back and forth, zigzagging and cursing under your breath, the white little cursor simply remained stuck right in the center of your computer screen.
“Dammit you stupid lagging piece of trash.” Your voice growled in disdain as you lifted the mouse in your hand, beginning to twist it to check and see if anything had blocked off the sensors down bellow. It was then that the familiar, horribly familiar, bling from the computer resounded in your ears again.
Your eyes lifted back towards the computer before you, and there, in the center of the computer, directly bellow the cursor with the same cream manila envelope, was another file.
You were unable to move the cursor in order to hover over the words, the entirety of your screen had obviously completely crashed. So, in one last effort, you pressed your finger against your enter button. The file glitched into uneven shreds, ditching across the screen as a scratching noise, like fuzz and screeching nails, echoed in your ears for a moment or so, before all was quiet again. Calmly, a much larger rectangle assumed its place, but it was empty, and black, and a small play button sat in the center. It was a video. It began playing with you urging it to start.
The scene it faded into caused the depths of your chest to rise into your throat.
The dark concrete room was barren, lacking substantial light and seeming to be aged and worn. Deep cracks were in the floor and wall that connected together. Dark stains, mud or… blood… or whatever else… were randomly splattered against the surface. You could almost smell the musky scent it most certainly wafted.
A man sat directly in the center, head drooped lowly, the black raven tresses of his hair cascading over half of his face.
The chair he sat in was large, awkwardly large, metallic and rigid and surely not comfortable.
You could see that his eyes were closed, but it lacked anything that would describe that he was peaceful. His hands were stuck awkwardly behind his back, elbows protruding outward enough to make you believe his wrists were most likely bound.
“Mark…” The words barely left you,
your voice was having a difficult time being used. What in the hell was this? Why were you being shown something like this? What did it mean?
You were desperately attempting to process the horrid display, when suddenly they entirety of the scene jostled and wiggled, blurring the figure in front of you. Someone was adjusting the camera pointed in Mark’s direction.
“Mmmmm….” There was a light growling sound in the depth of an unknown figure’s throat, whoever was behind the scene. Behind the camera. Behind all of this mayhem you were looking upon. There was a few more seconds of jostling and incoherent muttering, before there was a loud click, and a sound of praise.
“There we are.” The voice was rich, flowing and gentle, almost calming if any different situation was occurring. A man, burly and tall, surprisingly pale, strode into the view of the camera.
You suddenly realized just how thirsty you were. All you ever wanted, at that moment, was a tall glass of water.
Dark turned himself around in order to burn his gaze into the camera lens, staring directly into you with a smile that arched unnaturally. His arms that lay at his sides swung out, beckoning in a gesture of prideful welcome.
“Lovelies, ladies and gentleman, one… and all. I am most pleased to find you here with me. Welcome, all of you, to my first ever, official, Darkiplier episode.” Dark clapped his hands together and hugged them close to his chest, snickering and smiling in a giddy fashion.
“It took quite a bit of effort, I must admit. Days worth of planning, aggravation, sweat and tears and blood, quite literally, in order to make this possible. I set up the scene, of course, with the skills that I wield. But the final piece, the final push to truly… get this episode rolling, was something I required from you.”
Dark stood directly in front of Mark’s body, who remained unmoving, locked in some type of trance, or fretful sleep, looking like a long passed mannequin. Dark didn’t even seem to notice Mark’s existence, his entire attentions focused to the screen, and he continued talking.
“All of you received a poll, just minutes ago. The question, as I’m sure you all can recall, was ‘Mind or Body?’ Did any of you ponder what this may entail? Hmm? Did any of you suspect any ill will when you responded? Well, whatever curiosity you have faced in these last few moments, my friends, it will finally be quenched. Your responses determined the actions that will be bestowed upon my perfect little subject here with me, today. Some of you may know him from his video channel, some of you may have no recognition of him. I simply call him Mark.”
Dark stepped to the side only slightly, and twisted his shoulders to show off the shadowed figure of poor empty Mark, hanging in his seat.
“Perhaps ‘The Little Wench Who Ruined My Existence’ would suffice as a more suitable nickname, however. Don’t you agree, Mark?”
After another pause, he turned back, and jerked his hands against the hem of his vest, straining the fabric. He continued as if he hadn’t interacted with the unconscious man at all. As he did, his smile shifted, only slightly, something laying beneath his skin that grew darker, less friendly. He seemed to be staring directly into you, and you alone.
“Some of you may believe that this is for Mark alone. But you would assume incorrectly. Don’t you see? I tried to play nicely. I tried to be the wonderful, perfect Figment they all assumed me to be. But still… you doubted. Adoration turned into comfortableness. You all became fearless of me. You sought me out because you thought I was fUnnY, OR cuTE, or soMEtHING to brINg you AMUsemenT. You all believe that I am…. am incapable….. of what I KNOW…. I can do. You all believe that I am weak, pathetic, and that I am simply some… imagination. Some… tHinG. Well… I am here to remind you, Lovelies, that I am not some wandering decision. I am a concrete REALITY. And now… well… I will prove. What I. Am capable of.”
TO BE CONTINUED?
Oops! I may have not completely fulfilled my promise. Did I fail to mention I would only be providing HALF of the story at 1,000 followers? How disappointing. It must have slipped my mind.
Do you desire part two? Perhaps I will continue at 1,500. Or perhaps not. We’ll see where the wind takes me.
@deanssweetheart23 tormented me with this gif and most of the dialogue, so now I’m torturing back. Let’s call this a joint effort.
You leaned back in your chair with a yawn, stretching your arms up above your head. God you were exhausted, but you had to get this paper finished. It wasn’t due until tomorrow afternoon, but you knew that if you kept putting it off it would just get worse. Besides, despite your phenomenal procrastination abilities, you really hated rushing to finish things at the last second. You were more of a get-it-done-the-night-beforehand even-if-that-means-an-all-nighter girl.
You squinted at the word document open on the screen, watching the little cursor appear and disappear at an almost hypnotizing rate. Writing it really shouldn’t be that hard, and you were making steady progress, it was just a lot slower than you’d like it to be. You risked a glance at the digital alarm clock across the room and immediately regretted it. It was far beyond late at night and had become early in the morning. When you looked back at the screen, your eyes began watering and you wiped at them tiredly. God the screen was bright… why the hell didn’t it dim anymore than that?
“Sweetheart?” Dean’s low voice cut through the silence, making you jump.
“Hey,” you said quietly, peeking up over the top of your laptop to look at where he had propped himself up on an elbow on the bed. “Sorry, is it too bright? I can go to the other room,” you said quickly, worried that you had woken him.
“No, no it’s not that,” Dean said, his voice thick with sleep, “why aren’t you in bed yet?”
“I’m a little busy, D,” you reminded him with a small smile at the sight of his bedhead. Dean huffed out a sigh and collapsed back against the pillows. “I really can go outside if I’m bothering you,” you said in concern, but Dean just shook his head.
“S not that,” he mumbled, making you arch an eyebrow.
“Does the mighty Dean Winchester want to cuddle?” You teased, a full blown grin spreading across your face now. Dean groaned again, rolling his eyes as he flipped onto his side to face you.
“Ido not cuddle,” he informed you with a scowl.
“Sure you don’t…” you chuckled, glancing back to your computer screen.
“I just sleep better when you’re here, alright?” Dean admitted, rubbing his face and then running his hand through his hair. “Now come to bed already. It’s- shit, Y/N it’s two in the morning!”
“One more paragraph,” you bargained, blinking a few times as you tried to refocus on the page in front of you.
“Nope,” Dean mumbled, “need to hold you. C’mere.” When you looked up again, Dean’s eyes were bright from where he watched you, his head resting against the pillow. You had more to do, but dammit he looked so comfy.
“I gotta finish this, D…” you said, but he heard the hesitancy in your voice, saw the weakness. And god damn that man, he pouted. Those perfect lips combined with his puppy dog eyes completely did you in. You just couldn’t say no to him. With a little groan, you flipped the screen shut, making Dean’s face light up in a grin. You pushed out of your chair and made straight for the bed, where Dean had scooted over and pulled back the covers for you.
A little sigh escaped your lips as you hit the mattress, letting the exhaustion finally wash over you. Dean pulled you in against him immediately, tangling his legs with yours and wrapping an arm around you. You giggled as he nuzzled against your neck, but your eyelids were already so heavy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You barely felt Dean plant a soft kiss against your hair before you were asleep.
I blinked green eyes to clear my vision and peered out through the laptop’s screen. A dark-skinned boy, maybe fourteen years in age, grinned at me.
“Hello. What’s your name?” I asked, ignoring the way my words appeared on the inside of the screen. I had done this before, it was nothing new.
The boy raised an eyebrow, likely at the lack of text box to type an answer into. Hesitantly, he spoke, “Um, I’m Tucker Foley. That’s TF as in Too Fine.”
I laughed, smirking slightly. “Dude, ouch. It’s nice to meet you, I guess.”
“Wait, who’re you?”
“My name is Phantom. Danny Phantom.” I answered after a moment, running a gloved hand through my white hair. It had probably been years since the last time I had introduced myself, and the thought made me a bit nervous.
Tucker chuckled, “I can’t decide if that sounds cool or makes you seem like a total dork.”
“Why not both?” I asked with a shrug, then shook my head and smiled, “You’re taking this exceptionally well. The last person who found my USB threw their computer at the wall.”
Tucker blinked, them seemed to remember that he was talking to a video game. His eyes widened. “Wait, are you an AI? That’s so cool!”
“Kinda?” I answered, “I dunno. I guess so, since I’ve been here for as long as I can remember. What, are you some tech nerd?”
Tucker scowled and grabbed the mouse, trying to click on my face. I watched in amusement as the little white cursor moved around on the screen, unable to touch me. The growing frustration on his face made me snicker.
“Hey, sorry, I was just speaking my mind. Here, have a peace offering,” I summoned up a window for Google and wrote in a link with my index finger. When I tapped the Search button, a myriad of printable food coupons showed up. “You look like you could stand to eat a bit more.”
To my amusement, Tucker was literally drooling. I pushed the window up towards the screen so that the mouse could interact with it, floating in the corner of the screen. I met his eyes and Tucker smiled, “This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
And beautiful it was.
Tucker took to leaving the computer plugged in and turned on at all times, so that I wouldn’t be trapped in the darkness. We talked and played DOOM together once I realized I could interact with the MMO. Every once in a while Tucker would even help me transfer my data temporarily to his PDA so we could still hang out when he was at school or the local fast food joint.
Two months and six days after he opened my file, though, he came home with an idea.
“Danny, I think we can get you into the real world.”
I gaped in shock at my friend, undoubtedly the best I’d ever had. “What!? How?”
Tucker sat down heavily as he began talking animatedly, “There’s this family of inventors living a few blocks away, I’m kind of friends with their daughter. A few years ago, they made a few robots to fight ghosts or something.” He elaborated at my raised eyebrow, “They’re ghost hunters.”
“Says the teenage AI.”
“Anyway,” Tucker continued, “They never used them for much of anything because they couldn’t create an effective AI, but the bots are still around. I could use one and revamp it, then if you transfer to it you’ll have a physical body!”
I gave a breathless laugh (though I didn’t really need to breathe anyway) and beamed at my friend. “That’s… wow! Alright, let’s do this!”
It took Tucker months. Seven of them, in fact.
But it was worth it for the final result.
To my honest surprise, Tucker had access to some seriously high-quality tech and materials, most of which he admitted was scavenged from the Fentons’ lab. The deactivated robot looked almost exactly like a real teenager, with soft black hair and pale skin. The build was small and thin, strongly resembling my own. The only part of its image that made it seem inhuman was the brightness of the softly glowing blue eyes.
Well, that and the USB port at the nape of the neck, but that was concealed by a high-collared black undershirt. Most of the time, I mean. It was exposed today because it was Transfer Day, as we had decided to call it.
Shut up. I never claimed to be creative.
I shuddered in nervous excitement before slipping into my USB, losing all awareness of the outside world as soon as Tucker unplugged it. I waited impatiently for a new 'platform’ to present itself, and when it did I immediately threw myself into it.
The physical sensation washed over me like a tidal wave. I had only ever felt the digital approximations of senses before, so the incoming information from countless micro-sensors was completely new to me.
Taking an artificial breath, I opened my eyes to see Tucker leaning in close, staring at me in fascination. I lurched backwards with a yelp of surprise, then paused and marveled in the feeling of movement. Synthetic muscles moved under man-made skin as I turned my wrists and wiggled my fingers. I let out a small sound of surprise when I noticed that I even had 'birthmarks’ dotting my skin.
I raised an eyebrow at the vibrations that rippled through my chest and throat when I made the noise. I met my friend’s excited gaze and said plainly, “This is weird.”
The combination of his face and the odd feeling of real speech made me laugh, and soon we were both spiraling into a shared fit of giggles. I threw my arms around Tucker in a hug.
“Thank you, Tuck,” I breathed, holding the best human being I had ever met close, “Thank you so much.”
After a moment, he hugged me back. “It’s nothing, dude… Well, not nothing, but you get my point.”
I pulled away and stood, wobbling slightly on my feet. Steadying myself, I grinned down at Tucker, “So, you mentioned having other friends?”
Summary: Michael and Jeremy struggle to find the right words when texting each other. Jena spills Rich’s secret.
Warnings: Mild swearing
Word count: 1510
Michael lay off the side of his bed staring at his phone. Jeremy’s contact was pulled up, but he had no idea what to say. What do people even say in this kind of situation. “ Does this mean he likes me back? Is this a real number? What if this is fake? Why would he give me his number? What do I say?” he thought. He looked across the room at Daisy in her tank. “ You got any ideas girl?” Michael asked. The room was silent. “ Nothing? That’s what I thought.” he sighed. He continued to sit and stare at his phone.
Jeremy sat at his office trying to draw. He kept checking his phone every minute. He couldn’t focus. “Why hasn’t he texted or called yet. This was a bad idea I should never have taken this stupid risk. Why did I give him my number? Uggg I’m such an idiot. He probably thinks I’m a creep. God why am I like this. He definitely thinks I’m a creep.” Jeremy though. He chewed on his pencil trying to clear his mind. His phone buzzed. Jeremy’s face lit up, he grabbed his phone and looked at the screen. “ Jakey_D liked you photo.” “ God dammit! Why did I do this?” Jeremy yelled tossing his phone onto the table. He sunk back into his chair. “ What’th the matter now?” Rich sighed walking in. He saw Jeremy sulking in his chair. “ Are waiting for flower power to text you.” Jeremy grew bright red. “ Oooo Jeremy'th got a boyfriend.” Rich teased. “ S-shut up man. He’s not my boyfriend. He hasn’t even texted me yet. Ugg why did i give him my number?” “ Yeah bad move dude you gotta let them come to you.” Rich said smugly. Jena appeared in the doorway. “ Oh so is that why you refused to talk to Jake for so long and just decided to stalk his social media instead of talking to him?” She smirked. “ W-what?” Rich stuttered trying to act smooth. “ Drop the act Rich. Jake isn’t here your tough guy stick won’t be ruined.” Jena said. “ What no, I don’t have a thing for Jake. He’s my bro. Where would you get that idea?” Rich said. “ Wait you like Jake?” Jeremy asked confused. “ Yep. Maybe if your head wasn’t in Michael land twenty four seven you would see the obvious.” Jena smirked. “ What no, g-groth man. I don’t have a crush on Jake.” Rich defended. “ Hey Jake what’s up man?” Jena smiled as she waved to the space behind Rich. The color drained from Rich’s face and he mad an inhuman squeal. He whipped around only to see Jake wasn’t there. Jena burst into laughter. “ Don’t do that. Thtop looking at me that way, thith doesn’t prove anything.” Rich stammered. “ You know, a wise man once said to me. If you don’t like him then why are you being so defensive.” Jeremy smirked. Rich went red in the face. “ Thut the fuck up. At least I’m not the one checking my phone every thirty theconds.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. Rich and Jena left to work on there own stuff. Jeremy grabbed his phone and flicked it on. Nothing.
Michael groaned. Why was this so hard for him. It’s just a text. He stared at the little blue cursor blinking waiting for him to type. “ He probably doesn’t even care. Why did he give me his number. Why can’t I think of anything? Why am I like this?” He thought. Cathy walked into his room. “ I’m ordering food, you want something?” She asked. She looked down at her brother. “ What’s wrong.” “ Nothing.” Michael pouted. “ Michael you laying upside down on your bed staring at your phone you’re not fine.” “ I’m fine really ok.” he bluffed. Cathy sat down on the bed next to him. “ Whats wrong. Did Doddie miss a veda?” Michael rolled his eyes. “ Those are in August not June.” “ Ok then why are you pouting?” Cathy asked. “ I am not pouting.” Michael scoffed. Cathy glanced at his phone. “ Who’s Jeremy?” She asked. Michael turned red and shut his phone off. “ No one. He’s a customer. I’m just trying to figure out how to word what the boquete I’m sorting for him looks like.” He bluffed. Cathy sat and looked at him for a second she smiled. “ You are the worst liar I have ever met.” she laughed. Michael sighed and sat up. He buried his face in a pillow. “ You wanna tell me the truth?” She asked rubbing her brothers back. Michael took a deep breath and told her everything. The tattoo shop what it was like talking to Jeremy. The electricity he felt those few times there hands brushed. How he felt inside when Jeremy smiled or laughed. He told her every little detail. With every word he told her Michael felt his face grow hotter. Cathy smiled at her brother’s confession. “ Well from what I’ve heard about him he sounds amazing.” Cathy said. “ He really is.” Michael smiled. “ What do I say to him? You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends, how do I do this?” asked Michael. “ Start simple. Say hi.” Michael picked his phone up and opened messages. He looked down at the screen, Jeremy’s contact was pulled up. His hands shook as he typed, “ Hi.” and hit send.
Jeremy sat in his chair sketching a dog. Then his phone buzzed. He grabbed his phone and looked at the screen. “ New message from an unknown number.” “ Hi.” just as he was about to text back another message. “ Oh this is Michael by the way.” A smile spread across Jeremy’s face. Another message, “ Michael from Pastel Petals that is.” Jeremy laughed as he texted back.
J - “ Hey. What’s up?” M- “ Nothing much. Just chilling with my sis.” J- “ Katie right?” M- “ Cathy. Close though. Lol.” Michael sent a selfie of him and Cathy. Cathy held up peace signs and stuck her tongue out well Michael smiled. M- “ What’s up with you?” J- “ Still at work.” Jeremy sent a picture of the dog he was drawing. J- “ What do you think?” M- “ Cute!” J- “ Thanks.”
Michael looked up at his sister. “ Now what?” “ Be honest. Say what you feel.” Cathy smiled as she ruffled Michaels hair. Michael began to type. “ Hey I wondering if you wanted…” He quickly deleted it. He started to type again, “ I think I..” He deleted it again. “ I think you really..” Nope. “ When I saw you I..” No. “ Do you like..” No. “ I was wondering if you think I’m…” absolutely not. “ Uggggg I can’t do this.” Michael groaned as he set his phone down.
Jeremy watched his phone. The eclipses appeared and disappeared. “ What is he typing?” Jeremy thought. The eclipses showed up on his screen for a while. Then they were gone. Jeremy felt panic grow in his chest. “ What was he gonna say? Why did he delete it? Did I say something wrong. I did. I definitely did. God what is wrong with me?” Jeremy thought his thoughts racing. His phone buzzed. Jeremy looked down at the message.
M- “Hey hanging out today was really nice. You wanna hang out again tomorrow or something?”
Jeremy felt his face grow red butterflies built up in his stomach and a grin plastered across his face. There was a knock, he looked up to see Chloe standing in the doorway. “ Hey can you cover Jake tomorrow, he’s got some family shit he has to deal with and he can’t make it so can you run an all day shift tomorrow..” “ B-but I-” Jeremy started. “ Thanks so much, your an angel Jeremy.” And just like that Chloe was gone. “ Dammit.” Jeremy muttered. “ I heard that.” Chloe said from the hall.
Michael stared down at his phone. It has been five minutes since he asked Jeremy if he wanted to hang out again. And he was starting to regret it. “ I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that. Oh god why did I do that. What is wrong with me? I pushed it too far.” He thought. Then his phone buzzed.
J- “Sorry. I can’t. Work stuff.”
Michael’s heart sunk in his chest. He felt the tears well up in his eyes. Cathy looked at Michael’s phone. “ Psh typical excuse.” She scoffed as she wrapped her arms around Michael. Michael typed a response his fingers shaking.
M- “Oh it’s fine. I understand.”
Michael sighed as he leaned in to Cathy. “ You ok bud?” She said rubbing small circles on his back. “ Kinda.” Michael’s phone buzzed. He quickly read it. His face lit up. “ What does it say?” Cathy asked. Michael read the text out loud. “ Sorry my manager is making cover someone so I have an all day shift. But I’m totally down for Saturday if you’re free?” Michael beamed. He hugged the phone close to his heart. “ So, you gonna take up his offer?” Cathy smirked. “ Oh right.” Michael said as he went to text Jeremy.
M- “Absolutely Saturday is perfect.” J- “Saturday ,awesome. It’s a date.” M- “It’s a date.”
ArT, EE, AP, and reader-san want to play a four person co-op video game but they are having an argument on who will be Player 1 (like that one episode in Regular Show)
“We don’t have time to be playing video games,” Arme sighs, crossing his arms.
Apostasia ignores him completely and picks up a controller. “Pick your characters,” he says tersely, before making his choice. The little red cursor hovered over the Player 1 label.
Seeing this, Erbluhen starts pouting and shoots him a glare. “You picked Player 1 last time. I don’t want to play the stupid healer anymore, it’s boring just sitting in the back doing nothing. I want to use the one with the sword this time.”
Arme then snatches the controller out of Apostasia’s hands, before plopping down on the couch to the side. Apostasia only makes a half-hearted swipe at the controller before he considers it too much effort to stand up and steal it back, so he merely picks up the one next to him and locks that one onto Player 3, the archer. Erblu looks even more upset. “Hey! You didn’t even want to play at first, let me have Player 1!”
Arme only flatly responds, “I might as well learn how to play this game so I can quickly beat you and get you to stop playing. Anyways, the swordmaster fits me more than it fits you. Go pick the magician if you’re that upset over being the cleric.”
Apostasia calmly adds, “You can’t beat either of us. This is a cooperative game. We beat monsters.”
“I’ll make us die faster and lose.”
“You’ll auto resurrect. You’ll only slow the progress down.”
You have to physically restrain Erblu from throwing his controller at either of them as they continue to squabble, but in the end he gives you the mage unit and he goes back to being the cleric, despite his grumbling. It must suck to be a support main for life, huh.
have always tried to be very careful online. I didn’t give out my real
name, never got more specific than my country when saying where I lived,
and I certainly didn’t post any pictures of myself publicly. The only
social media I had was a Facebook account and, even then, I kept the
personal details vague and had the privacy settings maxed out. I thought
I was being as careful as humanly possible.
It wasn’t that I was paranoid, just private. I was only a casual
computer user anyway, so it wasn’t like I spent a whole lot of time
online in the first place. Mostly I just used it to look at funny
pictures and talk to friends.
Once upon a time, Cooper would have been thrilled to see a message from the man who had been his best friend. Once upon a time, he would have given anything for the chance to talk to him again.
But that time had long since passed, and now all he felt was bitter resentment.
So Myron was only reaching out now that he needed something, huh? Oh, he knew all about it. He had read all about how his former best friend had tried to make it big in Silicon Valley, then crashed and burned in a big way. He’d heard all about how he tried to borrow his way out of the hole, and now he was facing his whole world collapsing around him.
Cooper might have supposed that he would be a tad more sympathetic to his old friend’s ordeal, considering he knew just how it felt to have everything he knew and cherished taken from him within the blink of an eye. But no. All he felt was anger.