#iwtyl

[cyprejyo]

i walk the yellow line references for artfight, will update when i make more!! posting for people to grab before artfight happens Gwen: Artfight Link Sully: Artfight Link Dear Johnson: Artfight Link Author: Artfight Link

[cyprejyo]

👻

this probably wont be done in a couple months, but here's a modding project I'm working on for DST :) Here's also a sneak peak on the dialogue that will show up

This will probably be the only translation ill give for one of my conlangs publicly as well.

[cyprejyo]

baby boy.... sweet little guy once again extra notes in the read more 

[cyprejyo]

hai

[cyprejyo]

uhhhh boys :) 

gwen and eddie, my beloveds. 

however a minor part of the story in the beginning, they've been dating each other as long as people can remember. they even have matching rings despite neither of them being interested in marrying. they also share an apartment together with one of gwens friends. 

[cyprejyo]

happy new year bitch

[passivelyaggressively]

Cracks and Architects (Part 3)

                                                 * * * * *

 “Hey, hey there, calm down, relax a minute, take a deep breath.”

“Who are you? What is going on?”

“My name is Ashley; this is my husband, Isaac.”

“But who are you?”

His teeth. “I used to work here as a custodian. I took care of this place with everything I had. And it’s where we met, but we weren’t allowed to date, against the rules.” They’re so white.  “I met her on that staircase to get up to the roof one night when I was working the graveyard shift. I was polishing the steps when she came by asking if she could help. I had been alone for a few hours at that point and company was always nice.” How’d he get his teeth so white? “After this place closed up, we got married.”

“What even was this place? I saw a bunch of papers in one of the rooms but they were too waterlogged to read.”

“Oh this place was kind of like a… hotel. People came, stayed a while, and left. They got served breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” Her hair is so orange. “It was a nice set up.”

“I’ve loved this place ever since I started working here. When it closed, I, I was heart broken. So, Ashley and I decided to come back and start fixing it up. Maybe make our own business. We’ve cleaned up this room and two others. But we’ve got a long way to go.”

“Why did you take me from the roof? I was busy. And you tied my legs to the floor. What are you trying to do, kidnap me?”

“No not at all. We brought you down because it was starting to rain and we didn’t want you to get wet and sick.”

“Then why’d you knock me out? I don’t remember the trip down here and my head is awfully sore.”

“It’s just a hangover. You drank seven beers.”

“No, it’s not, actually.”

“We tied your legs because we didn’t want you to leave before we could talk to you. It’s important.”

“No.”

“We didn’t even get to say anything yet!”

“I’m hearing plenty of words right now.”

“Come on kid, listen-“

“No.”

“We just-“

“Stop.”

“Isaac! Shut up and let me talk to her.”

“I’d be willing to listen if you’d just untie me. I’m capable of being reasonable.”

“Listen, sweetie, I can’t untie you, not yet. We don’t know anything about each other yet, we have no reason to trust each other yet. That’s why we need to talk first. After we talk we can loosen things up.”

“Literally.”

“Isaac!”

“It’s true!”

“Anyway, do you understand what I’m saying, Sally?”

“What do you want to speak about?”

“Well, we’ve been thinking. This place could really be brought back to its glory days. With a little bit of teamwork and some elbow grease, we could have this place as good as new. Then we could run our business out of here.”

“And what’s your business?”

“Why, we have our own bakery!”

“And how’s that going?”

“We’re rolling in the dough!”

“Oh, really?”

“Ashley, let me talk. Now, listen, kid, are you going to help us? I’m sure you’d love it. It’ll look good on the college apps, too. ‘I volunteered to help pioneer a struggling business!’ It’d be great! They’d see you as a real go-getter, a girl with ambition. Colleges love ambition. They strive-“

“No.”

“Come on, at least try one of our cookies. I’m sure after you try one you’ll change your mind.”

Gosh, how long has it been? Hours? A day? I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week. I mean, they seem nice enough. I don’t trust them but goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my life. When did I even last eat? Friday morning before school. I had toast. But that was it gosh I “Fine. I’ll try your cookie.”

“Great! Thank you so much!” Calm down, Ashley. “Here you go!”

“Wait how did you know my name? We skipped the pleasantries.”

“Oh, we-“

[passivelyaggressively]

Cracks and Architects (Part 2)

I really hope this works. I’ve never tried drowning my sorrows in alcohol and wallowing in self-loathing. I’ve been told those are destructive habits. But, I mean, there’s a first time for everything, right? I don’t plan on making a habit of this, I really don’t. This should be the first and last time I’m ever even up here. Now if this bottle would just… oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to get this open? I thought only the expensive stuff took bottle openers!  Well, I could probably smash it. No one’s around, no one will hear it. This is needing so much more effort than I planned on giving. There’s no other way I’m gonna go through with this unless I drink, I’m too chicken, I don’t have the guts. Alright, glass shards let’s be friends.

Well, there goes half the bottle. I better not imbibe shards with this Bud. Well, then again, it wouldn’t really matter. At least I have seven more. I bet if I take the rock and just bang the cap I could get it off without shattering the whole top part. And it was loud. I don’t like loud.

All the great artists had destructive tendencies. Or like, they weren’t okay in the head or had a really messed up family life. That’s why they could make so much art. That’s why their art resonates with so many people. That’s why they ended up in museums, why people remember them hundreds of years later. Like Vincent Van Gogh. He had depression and seizures; the guy cut off his own ear! Michelangelo was probably bipolar. Sylvia Plath underwent electroconvulsive therapy and tried to commit suicide a whole lot of times until she finally succeeded at age 30. She stayed in a place like this. Virginia Woolf lost her mom and half-sister in death when she was just a teenager and she was sexually abused by her half-brothers. Then she lost her home during the London Blitz. And Ernest Hemingway! The guy is a brilliant writer and he was an alcoholic! Some of his stories, they’re some of my favorites. He was a genius and he drank all the time. He probably even wrote half of his stuff while completely wasted. Artists are so messed up.

I think architects are sorts of artists. They have to be. I mean, they put the things they see in their heads down on paper and then those things become reality. There were probably some really messed up architects out there. Probably the guys who build the really weird, non-traditional homes. The homes that are shaped like whales and stuff. They probably hated the houses they lived in as kids, so they decided to grow up and make better ones. For real, they must get so sad when they come back to one of their projects and it’s completely falling apart. Like this place. I’d be so angry.

Gosh, why does this stuff taste so bad? I’d rather just jump off this building now then wait till I’m wasted. I think that’d be better. No one’s going to notice when I don’t come home tonight. No one will notice when I don’t come home tomorrow either. Or the next day. Or the next month. I probably won’t even be found for a few days or even weeks; there’s no security guards at this part. But when they do find me, my parents will probably make a bundle collecting on my life insurance. That’d be good for Sarah. They could use the money to buy her her first car or put her through school. Everybody knows they’d never do that for me. She’s the oldest, the golden child. She’s the seventeen-year-old-soccer-captain-on-the-honor-roll favorite. I’m only 14 and I’m just average. I’m not bad and I’m not perfect. I’m just alright and I float. I hate floating. I hate the cracks. I just hope it’s not some kid who finds me. I’d feel bad for that kid. He’d probably turn into an artist.

I remember watching a guy jump off a building once. I was only eight. He was so tiny up there. Then he was on the pavement. He was red and brown and black. His eyes were wide open. He’d watched himself fall the entire 80 stories. I wonder what his life was like. Maybe when he was in third grade he was bullied. Then maybe in high school he wasn’t the smartest kid. Maybe when he got married his wife bullied him and he couldn’t tell anybody. He must’ve been really sad. Maybe he was an artist too. But I don’t remember. He just looked so empty lying on the street. Everybody tried pulling me away but I wanted to look. I wanted to see what emptiness caused him to jump. I wanted-

TO BE CONTINUED

(I apologize for not posting last week. I had to write a paper a night for school so I just didn't have time. But here you go, enjoy, share and thanks for reading!!!!)