#wchiawto

[imhere-imqueer-ilikedeer]

me on my way to listen to the most upbeat playlist I have while writing the most intensly angsty scene in human history

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ

[a-god-by-any-other-name]

I did a whole thing with onion headlines and my ocs

because it was fun and also if anyone wants to get to know their personalities a bit

(link to the headlines- those with ocs i do recommend it is very fun)

[it-came-from-mount-ebott]

you are giving me so much happiness right now thankyou so much wonderful human being

Oh, uh, thank you. I don’t really know how to respond to that.

Also, WCHIAWTO is really interesting so far, btw.

[imhere-imqueer-ilikedeer]

may I. ever so humbly. request some art of Theo? perhaps? (if not that's totally fine ofc I just love your oc's and love your art :))

YES YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN (with bonus Iona because why not)

they're judging someone (probably Casey)

[a-god-by-any-other-name]

nothing like writing some good trauma to brighten up your day :3

[a-god-by-any-other-name]

Chapter 2: [insert lenny here]

(master post)

(chapter 1)

Summary:

Cross-Country day! The day you know and love! (Or, if you're like me, hate).

No warnings for this chapter.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

read it on tumblr below the cut:

The morning light rather courteously threw golden daggers in Hawthorne’s eyes as it snuck around the dark blinds, blinds which just about managed to mimic the shade of gray under his eyes. He wallowed listlessly in the cold and hot blankets until a sharp slapping bang forced him awake.

“Dad?” he called groggily, “what are you doing?”

“Trying to catch Peggy,” he yelled back, and another bang reverberated around the house.

He groaned and flopped over on his back. “Peggy…” Hawthorne yelled, slightly muffled. Small paws scrambled up the stairs and onto his bed, until Peggy’s wet black nose was shoving itself into Hawthorne’s freckled one. He pushed himself upright and bundled her into his arms, groggily making his way down the stairs.

Hawthorne’s dad was rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “We need to teach that dog how to keep her nose to herself,” he sighed.

“You need to learn how to close the pantry door,” retorted Hawthorne.

“Yeah, well,” his dad snorted, “Now I need to go buy some more paper towel.” Hawthorne laughed and carried Peggy out of the kitchen.

“You’re going to get into trouble someday,” said Hawthorne, “it’s too bad you’re too cute to punish.” Peggy wagged her tail and stuck her snoot in Hawthorne’s face.

“Hawthorne!” sighed his mum as she turned into the living room. “What’s that fluffy nuisance done now?”

“Nothing,” Hawthorne replied quickly, putting Peggy down. His mum frowned but let it slide. “Don’t forget you’ve got cross country today,” she said, turning to leave the room.

Hawthorne groaned and flopped down onto the couch, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Do I have to? Can’t I just be sick today or something?”

She snorted. “No way mister. You don’t have to enjoy it, but you do have to run.”

“Uh…”

“Come on, just try, why don’t you? It’s only three k’s. Now hurry up, you’ve only got half an hour.”

***  

Perhaps Iona was a little strange. She certainly thought so, even if no-one else did. But then again, what did other people’s opinions ever matter for? She stuck her tongue out at her misbehaving shoelace. Can’t believe grandfather won’t let me stay home. Actually, she corrected, yes I can.

But was she really strange for not wanting to run three kilometres in the end of winter heat? ‘It’s not hot Iona, it’s barely twenty-five degrees’, well excuse her for being used to near frigid temperatures. After all, everyone’s experiences are exactly the same, are they not?

Not.

She sighed, fiddling with the bag over her shoulder. One more year and what’s even the point of this anymore.

“Hey.”

Iona rolled her eyes. “Hi,” she replied, turning to face Casey.

The year 12 grinned down at them through shockingly green bangs. “You running today?”

“Unfortunately.”

“More like fortunately,” they stuck their hands in their pockets, rocking on their heels. “Shit’s ‘boutta go down.”

Iona raised her eyebrow at them. Warnings from Casey were not to be ignored. “What?”

They shrugged. “Just have a good run.” They bared their teeth sharkishly. “Hope you win.”

Casey patted her on the shoulder and walked away, leaving Iona to follow them with her eyes. Just as they passed two random kids, Casey stretched out an arm and gestured towards them. They didn’t notice, but Iona did. Iona definitely did.

***

“Suspended yet?”

Theo jumped. “Jeezus Hawthorne, don’t do that,” he frowned, turning around.

Hawthorne laughed and looked up at his best friend. “Seriously though,” he said. “No-one’s said anything?”

Theo shook his head. “Nope,” he sighed, relieved. “Must’ve been too embarrassed to tell anybody. Or everyone’s too distracted to give a shit.”

“Mm,” Hawthorne agreed.

Suddenly something red caught Hawthorne’s eye.

“Who’s that?” he asked Theo, pointing at the person slowly walking past the Math block.

She looked like the kind of girl that would try and curse you by freezing your name, so she wouldn’t have to see you again. On the other hand, she looked like she would straight up murder you for the same reason. So overall, a very murder-witch vibe coming from her.

A real… character.

She was looking straight at them.

“Umm… Theo?” started Hawthorne.

“Oh, there’s the bell,” interrupted Theo, not hearing his friend. “C’mon, we’ve got to get to the oval.”

***

next

notes:

Everyone say hi Iona and Casey *choruses of 'hi iona and casey'*

I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D ! Seeing as exams are coming up for me, there will probably be another chapter in the next month while I try avoid the fact that I don't know anything. Having said that, don't hold me to it.

[a-god-by-any-other-name]

Welcome to the Mess of A Writing Blog I Call The Maze: :}

So far, I have 3 main wips:

The only wip you can read some of. Its master post can be found here.

Summary:

If you like fantasy, the tragedy of immortality, and fucked up little guys, than this story is for you. There's angst, there's knives, there's a sad wet cat of a guy, what more could you want? Join Hawthorne Carter and Theodore Varma as they have a really fucked up 'adventure' into a decades old feud between a 50 year old man and a 17 year old girl.

learn more about the characters here

You can't read this one yet, mainly because it's the sequel to WCHIAWTO.

Summary:

Follow Casey and Rob as they try not to kill anyone while having fun.

if you want any spoilers you'll have to go through me ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ or this link you could do that too

The newest of the wips, with barely even a plot. Not connected to the previous two wips.

Summary:

John gets weird dreams. They always center around some guy he's never met before, and the warnings in them always seem to come true. He dismisses these as coincidence (because, lets face it, what 30 year old has time to deal with that) until one day...

He meets the guy.

Join Jed (or Jedediah, as he prefers to be called) and John, as they try to save the world and not accidentally fuck it up in the process.

(art of jed and john)

——

Feel free to ask me about any of these, or check out their tags, which as of right now are the acronyms displayed above. You can ask me questions, you can ask my characters questions, you can just slide into my inbox to tell me I spelt a word wrong. I don't mind, I love them all.

Don’t like spoilers? Block the tag #tswa spoilers

I hope you enjoy my writing :]

-Thomas

[a-god-by-any-other-name]

WCHIAWTO Chapter 3: The Tragedy of a Lack of Fitness

This one is really short, but it was the best place to cut it off and prevent a mega chapter.

(Master Post)

(Prev)

TW: brief mention of throwing up and breaking a bone.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

read on tumblr:

Iona sighed. There’s only so many gumnuts you can kick before you run out of patience. She decided to whittle hers even thinner and punted another nut into the gutter. Honestly. Can’t Casey find it within themselves to not make a game out of everything?

Cryptic warning after cryptic warning. Always the way with them.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you’, they’d told little 7-year-old Iona on the top of the junior school monkey-bars.

‘Do what?’ she had retorted, preparing herself to jump into the sand.

Casey wiggled their eyebrows mischievously. “I just wouldn’t.”

Hadn’t Iona ignored them? And hadn’t she ended up with her leg in a cast three hours later?

She scowled out at the oval. Make friends with a weirdo ten years ago and end up babysitting two idiots on cross-country day. Typical. And there they were. Clueless teenagers. As usual. ‘Bout the same age as her. Perhaps she had maths with one of them. It wasn’t unlikely, their school was relatively small, as schools go. Not that she usually hung out with their type. It didn’t matter though. Today she would. Iona set her face and made her way across the grass, keeping her distance but staying close. She surveyed them carefully. She did know them, it turned out. Or at least in passing, anyways. She knew the white one was Hawthorne. You don’t forget a name like that, as clichéd as that sounds. The other guy had some basic name though. Leo? Possibly. No, Theo. He walked with a striding gait, as did Hawthorne, but you couldn’t deny the slight gingerness in the way the latter placed himself. That’s the one that’ll be easier keeping pace with, Iona decided. She smiled at herself, feeling like a lioness stalking a limping gazelle. But of course, she was here to help, not hinder. Not that she couldn’t, she reminded herself, feeling the weight in her pocket.

***

Hawthorne was nearly vibrating out of his skin by the time the Year twelve’s were called up to the start line. He hated every single second of this. Good lord. At least he hadn’t thrown up in one of these events yet. He wasn’t stupid enough to try run fun pelt with his lack of fitness anyway.

Just make it to the end of the oval, he reminded himself. Then you can slow down.

It was all he could do to maintain this mantra all the way up until the sports teacher’s whistle blew and the mass of students took off.

Good lord he hated running.

***

notes:

(thank you petrifiedlark for giving me motivation to write this chapter :3 unfortunatly no Theo this time though.)

And yeah, sorry it's such a short chapter, like I said, best place to cut it off, and also I had to stop myself from picking it apart until I hated it and just post it already.

Good news though! Next chapter things get interesting :P

next

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@knowable-entity

@the-ghost-of-a-spirit