A Way to End the Night

Hi guys! The blogsary is going to end in a few minutes and before that happens, I'd like to post a few more minimalist posters this time focused on my own OCs. Some kind of parting graphic, I'm not so sure. This time they're gonna be individual pictures so no one has to squint at the names and all that, haha.

 

There's also a new OC involved! Can you guess who? :D

 

 

Something Beautiful

“They’re all dancing,” Mathias says, both of us watching our batchmates dance to the song a band was playing. I couldn’t tell who the band was, and all I knew was that they were playing Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. “Aren’t you going to dance, Arzen?” he asked, looking at me. I shake my head. The others were there, and I had decided to simply watch. Mathias came after a few minutes and decided to stay with me, and there we were, watching simply as they danced.

The colorful lights bounced off the floor and shone on them, some laughing and a few others removing their shoes out of irritation. I saw a few guys joking around and a few other girls taking pictures, and there we were, by the back, eyes on them instead of joining in.

I wondered why he stayed.

“You should go with them,” I say softly, nudging his arm. A few other girls were waiting nearby as if wondering if he could join them. “Dance or something. I’m okay here.”

And he gives me a look.

“I don’t think so,” he says, and the girls move away, disappointed.

For some reason, I’m glad.

“Why don’t you dance?”

I shrug. “I’m a terrible dancer, you know that.”

And he gives me a smile. “You weren’t that bad in PE.”

“Sure – remind me to ask Daniel, I might have stepped on his toes twice or thrice,” I reply glumly. The look in his eyes changes and he glances away. I notice. “Mathias?”

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Come on. You might get eaten by some kind of monster,” I joke, and he manages a small smile. “To be honest, dancing with Daniel was a bit awkward. Makes me wish that we didn’t change partners at all…I don’t  think Elaine was okay with it, to be honest,” I confessed, and he snorts.

“Rivers was okay. I suppose. Better you than any of the other females in class, you know?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He blinks and reddens slightly.

“I-It’s not what you think. I’m just saying that Rivers trusts you with Daniel than any other girl.” And I nod, not really believing the first part. “And well…better Rivers than any other girl, really.”

“Did she step on your toes? Or did you step on hers?”

“Come on, we’re not bad dancers.” He laughs, “We were able to manage. We got a high grade, remember?”

“You’re right.”

And the song changes into something slower, mellower.

“You know, this is a nice song,” he starts after a few seconds of silence between us.

“Yellow, right? By Coldplay?”

“Yeah.” A slow nod from him. “Do you believe me about me being a good dancer?”

“In all honesty?”

“Yes.”

I smirk. “Not really.”

And then instead of giving me an offended look, he tsks and proceeds to drag me to the middle of the room, where a few others were dancing.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I protest, face turning red as he grabs my hands. “Mathias, everyone’s going to see us-”

“Darling, I’m going to show you how good of a dancer I am.” The ginger holding my hands winks, and proceeds to lead me into a slow dance, ignoring the cat calls from our other classmates. I can hear Elaine laugh and snap a picture, Janica cheering us on and Cianna yelling something about ships.

But it didn't matter at all.

Your skin,
 Oh yeah your skin and bones,
 Turn into something beautiful,
 You know,
 You know I love you so,
 You know I love you so.

The Shoujo Parallels: Minimalistic Posters

Hi guys! I just came back from the mall (and bought myself some blogsary gifts of my own aha) and to start my 'writing night' or whatever, I decided to post the minimalistic posters I made centered on the different Shoujo leads. Basically, you've got the nine arranged in rainbow order and in the center is a picture that "represents" them. Pretty much.

 

In case you don't understand what the pictures are, here's a guide:

 

Therese Ramos: Calculator
Megan Alando: Wheelchair

Elaine Rivers: Braid

Beatrice Mora: Guitar

Gabrielle Angeles: Microphone

Arzen Venura: Glasses

Maxine Ride: Bicycle

Janica Ayade: Xbox 360

Ryel Tunes: Soccer ball

Smells Like Sunshine

Touta combed back his wet hair, grinning and catching the beach ball that Peters threw. “Oi A, come join us! It’s not fun if you keep in the shade for the whole day,” he called to their other teammate, watching in disbelief as she read a magazine under an umbrella, waving off offers from other men to give her a drink from the beach bar. “I don’t think she can hear us,” he told Peters, who frowned and got out of the water. Touta blinked in surprise. “Hold on, what are you doing?”

“Watch me.”

And at that, a screaming match ensured between the two agents.

“What the hell – Peters, put me down!”

“You have to get in the water, now stop whining.”

“You idiot – I told you to let go of me, the sunblock hasn’t settled in!”

“It already settled! You’re wasting the opportunity, A.”

“The only opportunity I want is sipping a mango smoothie under the su-”

Touta cringed upon seeing her land in the water.

“…did you have to throw her?”

“Maybe,” Peters shrugged, coming back.

“Hold on, where did you throw her?” he pointed a little bit east.

“Did you see a person flying in the air? She was in a magenta bikini,” Olsen interrupted, swimming up to them. Peters laughed and Olsen wore a look of confusion on his face, eyes widening as Peters suddenly sank into the water, as if pulled by something…or someone.

He looked at Touta, who remained impassive.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” he asked, referring to the two who were wrestling in the water.

“They’ll get over it,” the Japanese laughed.

Kalon

He wasn’t perfect, and she knew that.

Jinx knew what she fell in love with: one of the cockiest men in the entire world with an ego that could rival her own, possibly. A man who constantly smirked and poked fun at anyone anytime, a man who threatened to spray her with men’s cologne while they were in New York. She loved a previous womanizer who could drop her at the quick drop at a hat, who could leave her for better, blonde-haired and tanned female who wasn’t afraid to show off some skin. She loved a smoker who had a few beers stuffed into his fridge, who loved baseball and stuck with her as she spluttered and shielded her eyes from a mature scene they stumbled across one day on his television.

But then again, she loved the man who risked his life to protect a child. She loved the man who made up with his family on that same trip to New York, who wore spiderman pajamas as a child. She loved the man who talked about cookies and warm milk in his sleep, with the man who stood in the rain and kissed her impulsively (though panicked and ran away before anything else). She loved the man’s stubble and was surprised to see that he shaved it off and decided to grow his brown hair back. And she loved that he refused to leave her, even while she was on medication and threatened to cut off his balls often.

Besides, that was Peters. Peters was an arrogant piece of shit who prided his looks, who constantly flirted around with women and took them home for a one night stand. He was the type of person to carry her up a few flights of stairs to the top of a building, the man who introduced her to root beer and watched as she admitted to liking it. That was the man who admitted to her his reasons for playing around, the man who she fell on at that time in the park after they ate some Chinese food.

He wasn’t perfect, and she knew that.

Hell, she was far from perfection and she wondered how he was able to see even a sliver of perfection in her. But she chose not to doubt him, because that was him.

If Peters knew that she saw him as perfect, he’d most likely grin and waggle his eyebrows suggestively, and then claim that he was the son of Apollo and pretty much related to Aphrodite, which wouldn’t make sense because a. he was not a Greek god, and b. this was not a Percy Jackson book.

But then again, he’d eventually stop and get that look in his eyes, and then he’d tell her that he wasn’t perfect at all.

And then she’d snort and tell him, “Well that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you, of all people.”

But that would be a joke. Although he was a cocky little shit on the outside, he was pretty deep on the inside, which surprised her at first. Initially, her thoughts of Peters was some womanizer who didn’t really care for his work and lived some kind of YOLO–themed life. She had encountered him around the office, but her first real experience with him was running into him over at a restaurant, where he had just finished from a date, judging by the red kiss mark on his collar. Why the woman would even kiss his collar, she didn't even want to know.

She never really thought that she’d be doing the same.

(Not the collar-kissing, though.)

Jinx never thought that she’d be like A, in a relationship and happy, constantly blushing and blooming whenever she got into work each day. But Jinx didn’t want to be blooming and blushing all the time that she’d look like a glowing tomato. She still wanted to be Jinx – the one who wouldn’t take any bullshit and rolled her eyes at any ridiculous thing that happened. She wanted to fight for cases and kick Williams’ ass to the curb, she wanted to continue thinking that Touta was a man with issues regarding society and she wanted Olsen to see her as Jean freaking Onix, not Jean Onix with an additional Peters on the side like some kind of sub they served over at Subway.  

Not that she didn’t want to be a Mrs. Peters, hell. But that was for some other time.

But at the same time, she didn’t want Peters to be her attachment, her hubby, her little boy toy. She wanted him to be Samuel Peters at the office and not Whiskers, because it was work and the workplace and home were two totally different environments.

And he understood that, at least.

But that didn’t stop his winks or his warmer-than-usual greetings.

And it’s not like she minded, actually.

She just wanted him to know his limits, and for her to know hers. And they knew.

At this stage, she was comfortable with the American. She knew his daily routine and he knew hers, he knew how to make her coffee and that she preferred he smoke outside rather than in. And she knew which closet was hers, that beers would be split evenly between them, and that he was a man who spent a long time in the shower, compared to other guys who jumped in, washed, and then jumped out.

Which was fairly disgusting, so thank God he washed well

Jinx knew him in and out, which spots he liked and which part of the body he prided the most. And aside from that, she knew that he was smart, that he was protective, that he cared for his family more than he let other people know. And she knew that he was afraid of deep waters because of an incident from when he was younger. (And it amused her, to be honest.)

Overall, Jinx loved Peters. Yes, there were times in which she wanted to rip his hair out and sell his organs on the black market, there were times where she wanted him to pay for the renovations in her office, and there were times where she had wanted for him to piss off.

But amidst that and what they had gone through, she wanted no one else but him.

Tacenda

Matt was thankful that A had some kind of music player. He plugged in his iPhone and scrolled down until he saw what he wanted, and pressed play, letting the music play in the background. Smiling contentedly, he checked the kitchen and glanced at his watch, guessing that A would be home in ten more minutes. And again he looked at the table, set up. Two plates, the utensils, the meal, a few other dishes, and then there was the unopened bottle of red wine.

The ginger ran a hand through his hair and picked up the bouquet of red roses that lay on his seat, observing that the flowers haven’t really wilted yet. He hoped it wouldn’t, or he’d have to replace them with new ones.

Everything was set up for them on that night. There was food, he had downloaded some of A’s favourite movies to watch later on, the bathroom now had new scented candles she lit whenever she had the urge to unwind, and the bedroom was just there if they needed it. Matt ran down the events in his head. Dinner. Bath. Movies. And then bed, perhaps, if she was tired and wanted to sleep. Frowning, Matt realized that there was a chance all of this wouldn’t push through if A was too tired to even function. So he made a backup plan in his head: bath. Dinner. Movies. Bed.

Sitting down, he looked at his watch again as the song changed. Six minutes to spare, unless she got stuck in traffic. She told him that morning that she’d to be let off early, and he hoped she was allowed to – the food, after all, tasted best when it was just cooked.

He had nothing better to do than to wait for her, and so he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and fished one out, and then took his lighter out as well. Matt smoked under the exhaust, letting the smoke waft up instead of spreading everywhere. When finished, his hair was messed up and he smelled of smoke and nicotine that he knew A hated, he thought with a slight grimace on his face.

And with that, the door opened and the sound of boots clacking against the floor was heard. Matt smiled just a bit, grabbing for the bouquet and rushing to meet her in the living room, where he could hear her unzipping the shoes and sliding off her coat.

And there she was, in all her beauty. A rubbed her ankles and saw him waiting, and a smile crawled up to her face. Her green eyes took notice of the bouquet and she gave a small shake of the head, laughing quietly as well. It was so cliché, the flowers and the music, but she liked it that way. She liked it cliché, and found it adorable when he would do those things for her.

“I take it dinner’s ready?” she asked, graciously taking the flowers and smelling them. Matt chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the kitchen, she keeping the flowers close and smelling the scent of him. He smelled like his cigarettes and the scent of the flowers were glued to him. It was an odd combination.

“It’s been ready for ten, fifteen minutes,” he answered, sitting her down and sitting across her, opening the bottle of wine and pouring a generous amount into her glass, and then into his. “Had to open your favourite, I hope you don’t mind,” he said next, glancing at her and wondering if this would irritate her in the slightest.

But it didn’t. She nodded, putting the flowers on a nearby counter and taking a sip from the wine glass. It left a small, faded mark that he recognized as lipstick that needed reapplying.

It was quiet for the next few moments, except for the tinkering of utensils while they ate. The silence made her nervous, and she glanced at Matt while he wasn’t looking, wondering what to say next. It was rare that there would be a lack of conversation between them, unless they were both busy and could only exchange a few words before rushing off to their own work.

But they weren’t busy, they were eating. They had the night to themselves and she didn’t want to spend it in silence as they watched her favourite movie, and then his. She didn’t want to shyly kiss him goodnight and fall asleep in bed, because they didn’t do that. Their way of loving wasn’t silent, it was loud and had to be heard by both parties. It was affectionate, the kind of love that had stolen kisses and random hugs, sudden hand-holding and him lifting her into the air just to hear her squeal and laugh, then demand to put her down.

Silence was awkward. It was there when the two had been in a fight and were too uneasy to approach each other, it was there when one had left and the other was alone in the house. The silence was unbearable, and as soon as silence came, they produced noise to block it out and love loudly as they did.

So where was the noise?

She finished her first glass of wine and refilled it.

The only thing playing was a song she faintly recognized.

And again, she glanced at him, only to see that he was looking at her as well.

She wanted him to speak, say something, bring up some noise that would disrupt the silence between them. The silence discouraged her, told her that something was wrong. She couldn’t take the lack of noise that she was accustomed to.

And for some reason, this irritated her.

Irritation made her finish her second glass of wine.

And he noticed.

If she wanted to be a little braver and break the silence, then perhaps a few glasses should do it, she decided in her head. And she met his gaze again, his thoughtful and a million miles away from Earth, most likely in outer space exploring some kind of new universe that revolved around a different sun.

And then he spoke.

“Come outside with me,” he asked her. And she blinked, nodding before standing up and reaching for his hand. His brows quirked at her reddening cheeks but he was more focused on something else. They went outside and he made her sit on the soft grass, both of them looking at the sky expectantly, as if waiting for fireworks and explode and illuminate the sky.

“…what are we waiting for?” and he merely smiled, telling her to wait because it would be coming in a few minutes. She pouted, impatient, but nodded anyway, willing to cope with the few more minutes of silence because soon, they’d be talking and then the universe would revert back into its natural state.

She was about to open her mouth once more to speak, but a gasp left her lips at the sight.

Stars were falling and they were like diamonds twinkling in the sky, crashing down somewhere, she figured. And she felt his hand wrap around hers, a whisper falling into her ears.

“Make a wish.”

And she did, watching the night sky glow as they held hands, laying back soon enough and letting the silence around them fall.

For once in her life, she found the silence beautiful.

Q&A: Hysteria and The Royal Flush

Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR: HYSTERIA

Q: What exactly inspired you to write Hysteria?

A: Honestly, I have no freaking clue. Hysteria was originally called ‘Convergence’, and it involved two realms called Requiem and Cosmos. But for some reason, I scrapped that idea away and decided that instead of realms, I’d focus on two different worlds – Earth and Hetar. Anyway, the Nyotalia girls pretty much gave me the idea of the story. Instead of male counterparts, why not female?

Q: Can you give us a summary of what it’s going to be about?

A: Earth and Hetar, two different  worlds. Inhabitants of one don’t quite know the existence of the other until one day, a crack forms in the sky and turns the heavens a bloody red. For Hetarians, this causes panic and confusion, and even the outcasting of one. But in Earth, people just go their daily lives. Two teams in Hetar are sent to figure out what exactly caused this rift. But in Earth, two groups have yet to settle a misunderstanding that had occurred in their Junior year and continues onto their Senior year.

Q: So, Hetar is another version of Earth?

A: Yes and no. While the central Nyotalia leads correspond to the mortal leads, Hetar isn’t exactly a replica or parallel. It’s hard to explain, to be honest.

Q: What else inspired you when it came to writing Hysteria?

A: Aside from the Nyotalia leads, I was also inspired by my Sophomore year – mostly because the idea of Hysteria came to me during Sophomore year. A clear effect of this are the teachers of the Senior batch of Sacrum Cor. I mean, we’ve got the motherly advisor, the sophisticated Physics teacher, and the rather sarcastic Math teacher.

Q: What is the main conflict of the story?

A: Well, Xais and Laldei from Hetar aren’t exactly on the best terms. They were initially unified under one team until something happened and they split into two different teams. Meanwhile, Verena’s trio isn’t so happy with Victoria’s group due to something that happened in their Junior year. It’s all trying to resolve this hidden issue while the groups from Hetar try to solve that weird crack in the sky (as Julchen calls it).

Q: The mortal characters have different names, from German origin to even Chinese.

A: Of course – all of them come from different nationalities, seeing as Sacrum Cor as an international school, there are bound to be students coming from different portions of the globe. And when it came to their names, instead of me picking random names I really liked, I did some research and picked names that would best suit the character.

An example would be Nova Howard. Nova means “new” while Howard would mean “strong of heart”. Nova’s backstory is that she was recently accepted into Victoria’s group around Junior year after the split. The meaning of her last name gives some sort of idea on her personality.

Q: Do you have any plans on posting Hysteria in the near future?

A: If I manage to reach a good amount of chapters (or even finish it), then yes. So that before I post, I’ll be able to read through it again and actually edit some parts that I want to edit.

Q: How many chapters do you plan for Hysteria?

A: I haven’t settled on this yet. An estimation would be around 20-30, maybe?

Q: Do you think you’ll be able to finish Hysteria?

A: Hopefully, I will! I personally think that Hysteria is one of my more ‘mature’ ideas (and not in that sense) and it’s a really nice idea that I want to see grow and develop.

Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR: THE ROYAL FLUSH

Q: So I heard that Royal Flush was originally titled ‘Shuffle’…

A: Holy hell, how did you know? Anyway, yes – Royal Flush was supposed to be called ‘Shuffle’.

Q: Did Royal Flush have a prototype plot?

A: Right again. Yes, Royal Flush had a first draft…and it involved the Hetalia leads. There was no OC involvement at all. The original plot was this: Without the Queen, the King cannot act and the Kingdoms would fall. Four Kings from Cardverse embark on a journey to find their Queen in order to ensure the safety of their land.

Q: Are the four female leads based on any people?

A: I’ll just say this – yes, they are.

Q: What are the central ships in the story?

A: The central ships are the following – Elly/Arthur, Rianne/Ludwig, and one-sided Tricia/Antonio. Side ships are Gilbert/Elizabeta/Roderich (but eventually would be Elizabeta/Roderich) and Maria/Alfred. But hey, there are other ships too – I just haven’t mentioned them.

Q: Who is the main antagonist?

A: Ahh, can’t say. Sorry! But the Jokers are one of them.

Q: Will all the ships sail?

A: As much as I’d like to sugar coat my answer, sadly, not all ships will sail.

Q: What arc do you think you’ll enjoy writing the most?

A: The Gala Arc, definitely. It’s going to be hell for the Kings and a lot of things will be revealed to the girls that won’t make them happy. Think of it as a prelude to the next arc, where things get really bad (and bloody, don’t forget bloody).

Q: So, will The Royal Flush be set at thirty chapters?

A: Yes! I’m sure of that.

Q: Which chapter are you currently writing?

A: Chapter twenty, entitled The Final Countdown.

Q: Final question – will the four be able to return?

A: I’ll let this slip…yes, they will.

Alliance

Void everywhere. I’m not sure whether to activate it or to just attack without the help of my Gear.

Margaux Princeton glanced around her with a slight frown lighting her features, her fingers lingering over the orange gem on her chest. She hadn’t used the Gear when it came to her previous opponents, but in this case, she was wondering if now was the right time to activate it and attack in her N-State.

Part of her argued that without going into N-State, she would be able to defeat the Void.

Somehow.

But the other half snorted and told her that she’d die if she didn’t activate it.

So Margaux decided to take the word of her first half and immediately dodged the attack of the first Void, glancing up at the tree branch and seeing it combust into flames. A curse left her lips and she grabbed the two swords from the holder on her waist, using it to block the sudden wave of black that the second Void expelled. Twisting her swords, she reflected the wave back to the Void, stunning it for a few seconds.

Twirling the weapons repeatedly, Margaux started chanting. 

And the swords glowed a bright orange, she charging forward and performing an array of attacks on the Void around her. Just as she was about to finish off two, she didn’t realize the appearance of a third that sneaked up behind her.

Just as her eyes caught sight, a green arrow zoomed past and struck the Void in the chest, knocking it to the ground. The smell of burning reached her nostrils and she scrunched up her nose, using her swords to defend herself from the newcomer.

Margaux looked at the spot where the arrow came from.

A tree up high.

The leaves moved slightly and rustled, and a person came out, wielding a bow and arrow.

She looked at Margaux, her weapons, and found the arrow deep into the Void’s chest.

The woman jumped down and landed neatly on the ground, walking with a calm air and approaching the dead Void, ripping the arrow from its still chest.

Margaux couldn’t help but flinch.

The newcomer put the arrow back into her quiver, looked at the other two defeated Void, and then at Margaux. She had her bow down, which gave the other slight hope.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t relax just yet.” She nodded at the opposite direction, “There are others nearby and they’re having a bloodbath.”

Happy Blogsary!

Sweet holy hell, I've reached it!

 

Happy blogsary, dear readers! Truth be told, I never thought I'd be blogging here until today. I thought that I'd just have a blog, woohoo, and then abandon it around six months later. But no. I'm still here, still blogging and ranting and babbling after twelve freaking months. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Can you guys believe that? I still can't. I mean, wow. One year.

 

Okay, so this is my plan. I'll post a few things and then I'll go to sleep. Then, Giselle will proceed to wake me up around 6AM or 7AM so I can start writing nonstop. The reason for this is that my family's going to go malling later, so writing time is INSUFFICIENT, sadly enough.

 

But aside from writing, I'll photoshop if I can and post whatever the hell I make.

 

Oh yes! I'll be changing my url in a bit. After a long time of contemplation, I've finally chosen a new url for this blog. *applause*

 

I will now be known as euphoriadippedpen! What prompted me into choosing this username, I don't really know. It just came to me one day while I was brainstorming.

 

Fun fact: Other usernames I considered were thescripturient, ariannemeraki, and ariannetheelysian.

 

So back to seriousness, it's been one year of writing and rants and playlists and babbles. Basically, it's been quite a year. I mean, holy cow...I'm still quite overwhelmed with all of this. *cue happy tears*

 

To everyone who viewed even just once or comes back weekly to see what I've been up to: thank you. You guys are pretty much one of the reasons why I keep even posting in the first place. I mean, it's great to see and know that HOLY HELL, PEOPLE ARE READING MY SHIZ.

 

So with that, let the blogsary begin!

 

 

Supernova

Arzen shook, covering her face with her hands. Mathias sat beside her, not quite sure what to do. After battling off another Setomion, it seemed like Arzen had just broke down completely. At first, thoughts of Eri came to mind, but he then ignored it and assumed she was alright.

Hesitantly, he patted her shoulder out of sympathy, and the gesture seemed to calm her down just a bit. But minutes passed and Arzen wasn't talking, only taking in deep, shuddery breaths as she wiped her eyes with a tissue he had gotten from her bathroom.

“Mathias?”

Her voice was rough, stressed from crying.

“Yes?”

“Can you get me my water bottle from my desk?” he nodded and stood up, spotting a deep purple water bottle and grabbing it, giving it back soon after. She took it from him and took a long drink, and Mathias saw the redness in her eyes. He couldn’t help but glance away.

He soon heard the soft click of the water bottle, and she sighed.

“Fifth one,” she said softly.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Fifth one indeed.”

“I’m sorry.”

And that made him frown.

“Sorry? What for?”

“Summoning all those damn Setomions.” She closed her eyes. “Doubt, Self-Pity, Loneliness, Anxiety, and now Insecurity. I swear to God, a whole family of Setomions would come after me if I kept on being like this.”

“Hey, hey – I only fought off two of those things. That’s just forty percent,” he joked, but stopped at the look on her face. “But really, Arzen…you shouldn’t beat yourself up over things like this. Remember: Eri sent me here to protect you. Okay?”

She didn’t look so convinced.

“I just want to fight them off myself.”

And he heard.

“You can’t-”

“I don’t mean the Setomions.”

“…then what, exactly?”

“I just want to fight them off me.” She looked at him. “All those feelings.”

He fell silent.

“The last time I felt like this was during Freshman year. Insecure and totally lost. I remember wanting to give up. Well…and now, here I am again. Feeling the same way as two years ago.” Arzen laughed bitterly. “It’s a miracle that a Setomion didn’t take me to Technika or wherever. It could have dumped me in the middle of nowhere, and I’d be happy.”

“I’d look for you.”

She looked at him.

“We'd look for you. Eri, Cissa, Lisa, me…Elaine and the others, too.” He offered a smile. “I’d rip apart the heavens just to save you, Monika Arzen. And so would other people.”

Arzen didn’t know how to answer that.

“Think of it this way: you can see millions of stars in the sky.” He nodded at the window by her bed, “One star dies, and when it does, you wouldn’t notice at first because of all the other brilliant stars out there, shining endlessly. But when you study that star, you learn about it. And you find out how it dies – perfectly.” he glanced at her. “It explodes. A supernova, they call it. One of the most beautiful sights. And after that supernova, a black hole basically sucks everything up.”

“…so you’re comparing me to a dying star,” she questioned.

“Not necessarily. Basically, you may think that you’re worth nothing, but even from afar, you’re fantastic. And when you do things, they cause a massive effect on others.” Mathias took her hand. “Darling, you’re a supernova. And if you go, you’ll cause a black hole so intense we won’t be able to recover.”

A supernova.

“…do you really think that?”

He nodded.

“I do. Now, sleep.” He gave her a light push. “You need to get some rest.”

She frowned at him, “And you’re going to watch me?”

“No.” he laughed, “I’m not that creepy. You’re going to fall asleep, and I’m going to watch around for a few minutes. And then I’ll get back to Eri.”

“Alright.” She climbed into bed (rather awkwardly) and switched off the lights, leaving the lamp on. He was busy writing something on a green notepad. “…what are you doing?”

“Reminder to myself,” he replied easily. “Close your eyes and get some sleep, Arzen.”

And she did.

She could hear the faintest chuckle, and later, she had drifted off.

Mathias made sure she was asleep before leaving the green note on the table.

He pressed a few buttons on his wristwatch and eventually faded away.

On her study table, the note read:

You’re a supernova.
Don’t let anyone say or make you feel otherwise.

PS: You don’t need to fight them off.
That’s what I’m here for.

-         M

Better than Petrichor

Eri sighed, opening her eyes and glancing at the glowing time on the wall.

5:36 in the morning, 24 minutes until sunrise.

She felt restless.

Her eyes searched the room and she sat up, reaching over for the lights and turning them on. The black-haired woman expected someone in the other bed, but to her dismay, there was no one there. The red sheets were folded neatly, pillows untouched and covers smooth without a trace of rustle or wrinkle. The items on the other side of the room were neatly arranged, untouched and unusually neat for the person who owned those objects. Tablets. Wires. Microchips. A few lasers here and there, a stylus tucked into a box. Her eyes glanced at the person’s closet, left slightly ajar after their departure a few days ago.

Usually, Eri Blitzschnell would be thankful.

It would be quieter, she’d be able to think in peace, and the smell of cigarettes wouldn’t linger as much. The thought made her smile just a bit, and she lay back on her bed, sighing quietly and willing for the minutes to go faster.

Cissa and Lisa were a few doors away, she thought.

But then again, the two had a rough night. She decided to leave them.

For the past few mornings, she had been waking up unusually earlier than she did. Eyes would open at the crack of dawn, and she’d end up wandering around New Technika, and go to her shift around 9 in the morning, ignoring Cissa and Lisa’s questions on where she was. The twosome eventually learned that answers would come when they had to.

Eri hated to think of it, or even think of him.

But as much as she kept dodging the feeling, she missed him.

She missed Mathias Gletscher, and it frustrated her.

She missed the things that irritated her, like how he smoked in their room and how he always tinkered with new objects and microchips he would find lying around. But eventually, the smoke would clear and he would eventually end up making something pretty damn amazing.

That was him.

Smoke that killed your lungs but left a somewhat beautiful trace behind.

Even better than petrichor.

He killed her sometimes, but she wanted more.

And that was what frustrated Eri.

That was the man who hurt her and left for months, but returned as if expecting to be welcomed with warm arms and tears all over.

The problem was, that wasn’t Eri.

Eri didn’t cry and welcome people with a hug.

Eri was strong. Somewhat.

He was cocky, he was overprotective, he was easily jealous.

But she couldn't help but miss it.

She missed that protectiveness, the blue eyes that would watch her.

She missed scolding him whenever he bought more of those stupid cigarettes.

And for once, Eri felt envious.

How ridiculous.

She was the one who told him to watch over Arzen.

She was the one who convinced him.

And now, she wanted to cross the Betwixt, go to Earth, and pull Mathias back to Technika.

She’d electrocute him if she had to.

“Stupid boy,” she muttered to herself.

And the door creaked open.

Slightly.

Her instinct was to grab for the pistol under the bed and aim it at the door. She had the weapon in her hands and directed at the door when someone stepped inside, looking incredibly exhausted.

Her eyebrow quirked.

“…you look like crap,” she said rather bluntly. A low chuckle came from the other person.

“I’ve gathered. Amaya asked me if I got run over when I arrived.”

“And you smell terrible.” She stood up, walked towards the closet, and took out a random pair of clothes, throwing it harshly to the man nearby. “Take a shower or something.”

He looked at the clothes with disdain.

A striped shirt and brown jeans.

“These two clash, do you know that?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t care. Shower, damn it. You’re stinking the room.”

And he chuckled yet again, moving closer instead of heading to the bathroom.

Mathias dropped his clothes and wrapped his arms around Eri, causing the latter to blush and stammer. The sound made him smile slightly.

“I missed you, darling.”

When Anxiety Meets Ice

Monika Arzen Venura was a mess.

News was being submitted late, Chemistry wasn’t agreeing with her, and then there was the preparations for the Integrated Field Trip that would be occurring that November. Initially, she had thought that September would be the worst, considering that the Medical-Dental Mission that the Juniors took care off occurred in that month. But once November rolled in and classes resumed right after the Semester Break, she could confirm for herself – and for others that definitely no, things weren’t going as easy compared to her previous years as a  Freshman and a Sophomore. She recalled two of her Senior friends wishing her luck on Junior year, commenting that the stress to be undergone was a totally different kind. Arzen took these warnings in stride, thinking that nothing could compare to the stress of being a Senior, but fate digressed.

News Editor, Investigatory Project Leader, and Junior. Of all the years to be appointed as project leader, she just had to be forcedly ushered by her group mates to just take the position. They told her, think of it as representing the group. Just representing. But that proved to be false. She had to step up her game and actually act like a leader, from the researching of topic to the group presentations they had to do.

And then, there was the Medical-Dental mission. Her section was assigned to one of the “bloodiest” (as her seatmate Marie called it) committee there could be – registration. Again, she thought that Maria was reacting too much over it, until their teacher Ms. Corazon had told them that there had always been trouble around the registration, and that there had been various methods to try and neaten the process of registration by the previous batches.

Integrated Field Trip. Arzen had landed into the Communication/Arts group with Elaine, Sharmaine, and Cianna, thankfully enough. But they had to look for contacts for places to go to, a car to ride, and a teacher to chaperone them. (Rumours around the place joked that Sir Richard would be the one accompanying them. Arzen hoped that it was Ms. Mei instead.)

Fast forward to March first, and it would be their prom. Arzen already had a promspect in mind, but she wasn’t completely sure if he was the right one to take. And then there were other aspects like hair and makeup, the after party her friends wanted at her house, and the whole prom itself. She signed up with Elaine into the Logistics committee, and the two were hard at work with the other members for design conceptualization that would help the Invitations committee with their own plans.

To the side, there was the club she was part of – the school publication club which released the first broadsheet only last month. Arzen had gotten good feedback and pats on the back for its’ success (being the News Editor), but she had no time to absorb the compliments because she had to focus on the second broadsheet that would be released around March.

All in all, she wanted to get a good night’s rest.

Chocolate-Stained Fingers

“Jesus Christ, where is the damn cake?”

I swear to God I had put it in the fridge to cool right before taking a nap in my room. My mind raced backwards: settling the ingredients, measuring the ingredients, mixing the ingredients, baking the cake, frosting the cake, putting the cake in the fridge…and then going to the room to take a short nap. That’s all I could remember. So for the love of God, where was the damn thing? I spent hours preparing and measuring and making and baking – and I had to put the white chocolate sprinkles.

My eyes shoot to the sink.

No traces of dirty dishes or licked spoons or chocolate-covered pans.

My apron wasn’t even there.

Neither were the measuring cups or spoons  that I had used.

And the table was wiped clean, as if I hadn’t used it in the first place.

…did someone replace the dishwashing soap –

Wait.

Did I even bake the cake in the first place?

I remembered every detail – including the fact that I nearly burned the house down.

And that I had used the right amount of eggs this time.

And that I didn’t use salt instead of sugar.

“You look confused, love,” came a voice from behind. I turned to see Matt smiling, pocketing his box of cigarettes. Normally, I’d reprimand him for smoking, but in times like these, I was wondering if my memory was still intact and if I needed to go to the hospital to have myself checked.

“When you came home, was I baking?” he blinked.

“You were asleep in our room, A. You baked?”

“I did…or…I think so,” I bit my lip. “I baked a freaking cake and put it in the fridge. Now, I can’t find the cake and all traces of my baking is gone. So I’m debating whether I really did bake or if I did it in my dreams because hell, even the table is clean when I remember accidentally spilling flour all over it!” he comes closer and sets his hands on my shoulders, trying to calm me down.

“You might have dreamed it, love.” He kisses my head. “Calm down. Do you remember what you did?”

“I made sure not to screw up the cake unlike when we were in the beach house,” I say dryly, and he laughs. “But in all seriousness, I baked the cake and wore my pink apron. I spilled flour on the table and nearly triggered the fire alarm, but it came out looking alright. I frosted the cake, put it in the fridge, and decided to rest – without cleaning up the place.”

He frowns.

“I came home and saw you asleep, and did some work in the living room so you wouldn’t wake up.”

 “Matt. I swear to God I baked something.”

“I believe you.” He kissed me gently. “How about we watch some telly and you think about your cake later?” I nod, and he gives me that smile before walking off.

The man tasted like nicotine and vanilla extract.

I had to remind him to not smoke in the house –

…wait.

Vanilla extract…?

Now, I didn’t really want to believe what I was thinking.

So I followed him to the living room and sat down next to him.

Matt had kissed my cheek yet again, and I buried my head into his shoulder.

“You’re feeling cuddly,” he murmured. I could only nod.

He smelled like chocolate.

Store-bought chocolate.

Pulling away, I laced my fingers into his and squeezed his hand, bringing it up seconds later to plant small kisses on his knuckles.

Brown marks on his fingers.

Dark brown marks I recognized as icing.

“Babe?”

“Mm?”

“Did you put on cologne today?”

“I did, but it wore off a few hours ago. Why?”

I look up at him and smile slightly.

“You smell nice.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he chuckles. “You smell the cologne you got me?”

“No…I smell something else.”

He watched in curiosity as I pulled my hand away and trailed it up his side.

“You smell sweet…I don’t know how to phrase it. Vanilla, maybe? Rather sweet, like sugar. It somehow mixes with the smoke of your cigarette – but that doesn’t mean I like it,” I snort. “Okay. You really, really smell like something I like.”

His eyes aren’t exactly meeting mine.

“And if I think about it…you smell like my cake.”

He laughs.

Just a bit.

Rather weakly.

“Now, Ari…I didn’t eat your cake. I swear.”

I smile sweetly.

“Then can you explain the crumbs on your shirt and the icing on your fingers – oh, and don’t forget the taste of vanilla extract on your lips.”

Matt flushed, eyes darting away.

The sight of him red was adorable, but there were other things on my mind.

Like my damn cake.

“Matt, I’m a police agent and I undertook detective studies in Wammy’s. It won’t take an idiot to realize that you ate my cake and cleaned up the kitchen while I was asleep.”