What Character Archetype Are You?

It’s time for a quiz! If you want to answer as we go, this quiz was created by Rowandor and can be found here: https://uquiz.com/quiz/lbJpjR/which-character-archetype-are-you-really

I can only remember one house that I’ve lived in and it is a nice house but not exactly my type I guess…

Definitely forgive, but never forget for me.

Cats are so cute! I have to pick them!

I’ve always like Fridays so Fridays it is!

I’m a night owl so it has to be midnight.

I think growth is individual first before anything else.

This question is always way too tough to decide my answer. I’m choosing air because I am rather chill.

I don’t really have many ‘secrets’ – but I haven’t done anything that I regret that’s affected anyone.

I think it really depends on the context. I think I can be rather nice but also rather cold depending on the situation.

I love the texture of sand!

I think I have ‘fixed’ morals/opinions, I’m realistic/pessimistic depending on what the situation is, I don’t think I’m ‘dry’ and I’m rather relaxed I’ve been told.

It was tough to choose between Drops of Jupiter and The Little Lion because both are great songs! I also like Avi Kaplan, he’s so talented!

I think finding out more about the world, life and myself are important.

Honestly, I’m not surprised by this result.

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Comparing Old Versions of a Draft

I was scrolling through my old files when I came across about copies of 3 variations of the same flash fiction idea.

They’re pretty (see: very, very) bad and clearly I never ending up developing or editing them further than just what I wrote down, but I thought it was interesting reading back through them years later (since the file says it was last edited back in about early 2017!) to see the variations I was going through to try and find something I liked before ultimately scrapping the idea.

Number 1:

I rush to the hospital reception. “Where’s Josie Williams?” I ask.

“She’s still in surgery…” the receptionist begins. I immediately take off down the hall.

At my destination, I’m greeted to a horrible site. Josie’s sister is curled feebly up into a ball, rocking back and forth in her chair. Her eyes are puffed. She looks horrible. It’s Dan who notices me first. He just glances up though, before returning to stare ahead at a spot of the white, pristine walls. He doesn’t look any better, though he doesn’t look like he’s shed a tear yet. Just sitting there in shock.

I kneel in front of Marie, placing my arm in a hopefully comforting gesture on her shoulder. She tilts her head up slightly to look at me and breaks into a fresh new batch of tears. “Hey, hey,” I sooth her, rubbing her shoulder. I can only imagine how hard it could be for her right now, the reason for admittance being less than pleasurable when the receptionist told me.

“How could anyone do this to her?” Marie wails, “What monster stabs someone repeated times for no reason?!” She crumbles against me, meaning that I have to use all my weight to support her and move her back upright into her chair. She covers her face again and continues to cry into her hands.

I carefully glance over at Dan, still sitting there in shock. “How are you going there, buddy?” I ask.

“I-I went over- and – and – we were meant to go out tonight – but – but,” he breaks off.

I clamp my hand over his back, “She’s going to be alright mate. She’s going to make it out fine. Josie’s a fighter, no matter what.”

Dan nods his head in agreement.

I sigh, casting my feet towards the ground. I’m an asshole, and I may be brash and honest even if the situation so clearly needs a white lie, but at least that means that they know the words I’m saying, that I mean them.

Number 2:

(That damn phone is still ringing. Honestly, why can’t a guy just have a shower in peace anymore?  “I hate these thin walls!” I bang my hand up against the shower frame. Reluctantly, I turn off the water and step out into the cold, unwelcome air. I wrap a towel around me loosely and march over to where the offending noise is coming from.

“This better be important,” I growl into the phone.
I’m greeting my muffled sobs on the end of the phone. My anger instantly cracks.

“John, John, John,” the voice wails to me. “She’s… she’s…,” it cries.

“Hey,” I reassure, “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”  I curse myself for not bothering to look at the caller ID before picking up. Lord knows who’s calling me at this hour to cry, and their voice is too distressed for me to figure out who it is. I hear another muffled voice in the background, and what sounds like some shuffling.

“Can you please come to the hospital?” a flat voice replies.

“Of course, Dan,” I reply, already shoving my damned long legs into a pair of jeans.

Number 3:

I skid across the white, marble tiles. “Where’s Josie Williams?” I ask.

“She’s still in surgery…” the receptionist explains the situation and soon I take off sprinting down the hallway. At my destination I’m greeted to Josie’s sister curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth in her chair. Dan’s the one who notices me first though. He glances up at me before returning to stare at a spot on the pristine hospital walls. They both look terrible. I go to kneel down in front of Marie and place my arm in what I hope is a comforting gesture around her shaking frame. This only makes her break into a fresh new batch of tears though.

“Hey, hey,” I rub her back, trying to soothe her. I can only imagine how hard it is for her right now, especially with only limited knowledge about exactly how her sister ended up in ER.
Marie wails into my shoulder, “What monster would do this? How did they even get into her house?”
I continue to let her cry before risking a look over at Dan. He still just looks numb to the whole situation. “How are you going?” I ask him.

“I-I went over and… and I was going to ask her to take me back. To for-forgive m-me but… but I got there an-and…,” he breaks off.
A feeling of dread passes over me, but I quickly shove it back down into the dark hole it came from. At the moment, it’s most likely that Dan’s just remembering everything that he saw after entering Josie’s apartment.
“She’s going to be alright,” I assure.

We wait for what seems to be hours until finally, a nurse appears. He leads us over to Josie’s bed and Marie cries at the sight of stitches running down her sister’s arms. We all know that there’s
a lot more of them that we can’t see. I notice though that Dan’s walking towards the exit, a sombre expression on his face. I follow him out of the room.

Dan’s walking towards the exit when I call out to him, “Don’t you want to be here when she wakes up?”
Dan doesn’t even turn around before shaking his head, “She wouldn’t want me there.” That dark feeling begins to creep back to me. “I shouldn’t have gone over…” Dan whispers into the empty hallway.

Upon hearing that revelation my jaw drops and I back away slowly, trying to process what I just heard. Dan turns to look at me, “I was just so angry…”
“Had you been drinking?” I cut him off. That look of shame on his face says it all though, and now I realise exactly what happened to Josie tonight. Rage boils through my veins, “You know what you’re like when you’re drunk. You’re fucking out of control! Are you serious right now?!” I seethe.
He hangs his head lower.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you in court,” malice drips as I slam the door shut behind me.

The abrupt noise shocks Marie a bit, but she smiles when she notices that I’m back, “Everything’s going to work out just fine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I say, putting on my best fake smile for her.

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Something I Outlined and Started Writing, but now am Unsure


She glanced towards the window across the room. It was a large glass one, light seeping into the café and making its patrons glow yellow among the sunset. She also appreciated the ambience here, being a quiet break from the bustling city outside. She propped her arm up on the table, head resting in her palm – still looking out and away from her chemistry paper due next week. Curse that dumbass professor, giving them this shitty essay and shitty chemical explosives while they were still in the middle of their semester’s major lab project.

She groaned into her palm. She’ll never getting a decent motherfucking rest. She went back to staring out the window, watching all the grey, drab people rush by.

The back of a blonde head went by, then stopped. An average height man couldn’t be older than 30 based upon how long it was. Unassuming, she thought. What another drab person.

He stayed by the corner of the window; hands shoved deep into his brown trench coat. He turned, his side profile on display and-


She shoved her books into her bag, leaving her coffee on the table and shot her head shot up, looking for an exit.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

She tripped over a neighbouring table’s chair, rushing towards the ladies’ bathroom.

She reached the door, opening it and turning back to check where he was. He’d just entered the café, his eyes flickering by the patrons closest to him. She slammed the door shut and exhaled; he hadn’t seen her.

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Short Story: Night Life

She waited by the side of the road. Umbrella in hand, water dripping all around her feet. The New York lights were blurred by the storm, almost like some sort of post-apocalyptic world. Maybe she could pretend that she was in Tokyo.

A cab came by. Those yellow cars still running late into the Tuesday night. She hailed one down.

She got in, quickly putting taking off her coat and pulling down her umbrella. She noticed the driver taking a quick glance her way. She thought that her appearance could only be described as bland. She donned only plain, straight brown hair tied back into a bun paired with dull brown eyes and pale skin.

“What you are doing out so late, miss?” The cab driver asked. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“It’s fine. I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she roused.

The cab driver shrugged. “So, where you are going tonight?”

“Just to 12th Avenue please.”

The driver nodded and took off.

“Anything exciting been happening recently?” he questioned.

“Not really. I’ve just been working a lot.”

“Ah, is that why you’ve been out drinking tonight then miss,” he laughed. “Perhaps with a special man of your own?”

God, he was chatty, she thought.

But she laughed in response, “No! No! No man,” while waving her hands around in the air.

The driver laughed back, “Don’t worry miss! I’m just messing with you. I wouldn’t want to offend you if you have a special lady in your life either!”

“Well that’s awfully nice of you,” she hummed.

God, what a drag, she thought.

“Shame you didn’t find someone nice though at one of those bars,” the driver continued. “My wife and I have been married almost 30 years now. Couldn’t imagine my life without her. We met at a bar around here too! I started chatting to her and within ten minutes she told me I had a terrible taste in décor!”

“Your wife sounds pretty fun,” she replied.

“She’s a blast! I’m always surprised how much passion can fit into such a small body, she barely comes up to my shoulders without heels,” he chuckled. “But don’t worry dear! I’m sure one day you’ll find someone! Doesn’t have to be anytime soon though, love tends to work in mysterious ways after all…”

“That’s all good,” she responded. “I’m more focused on work and paying the bills at the moment. I rarely event talk to anyone nowadays.”

“How nice to be so determined!” the driver cheered. “But loved ones do tend to be what makes life that little bit extra special. Maybe you should try calling one of your family or friends who you haven’t talked to in a while. Check in with them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured.

Eventually, they arrived at her destination. She handed over the cash to the driver, “Thank-you for the ride.”

“No problem love,” he said. “You sure you’ll be alright out there in the rain?”

“Definitely. I just live around the corner,” she smiled.

“Well take care of yourself then!” the driver called as she exited the car.

She gave a final wave to him as he screeched off. “What an idiot…” she sighed.

She started walking down the straight and turned the corner. She looked around and scanned the streets for anyone out and about still before going down an alley way to a set of apartment bins. She looked around again, confident that no-one is in sight. Not even the homeless stayed out during a storm like this and were probably trying to find a warmer shelter at facilities.

She went around to the backside of the bin and pulled out a pair of gloves from her bag. She took out a lighter and held it against the gloves until they caught alight, watching as they burned. She was grateful for the stormy weather masking the smell of smoke – not that anyone would have paid attention to it anyway.

She thought about how this alleyway was a lot better than the one she used earlier. The other was only a few streets away from a hub of bars, and she had to be a lot more cautious when disposing of her other shit. She had wanted to do it in a location that made up a more realistic reason why she was up so late when catching a cab. “Perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered though,” she reflected. “This is the city that never sleeps.”

She watched her gloves burn, thinking about how after people die, they can be burned too. About how pointless it all was to search for something more meaningful. Cause and effect. That’s all life was. Be rude to a person, they’ll turn against you. Work, have money to survive. Cause and effect. Simple.

Once the gloves had dissolved into enough ash, she propped the bin lid open with her elbows. She chucked the remains away.

She then turned around and made her way back to the beginning of the alleyway, before looking around again. With final certainty that no-one was around, she kept walking. Away from this block and on towards the next.

“It’s ethereal,” she thought, “Feeling like I have the whole city to myself.” She kept walking. “Maybe I could take a nap once I get home.”

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He hated doing all the grunt work. He slouched down onto the large wooden create, his heavy frame causing it to creak. This was boring. All he had to do was guard a stock exchange.

Takumi glanced down at his arm. His full-body gear was covering all the tattoos. He was decorated like everyone else – though if you asked him, he had some of the better artwork on him.

“Why are we even wearing all this?” Takumi grunted. “This is meant to be a simple job. Any idiot could do this.”
“Did you even read the file report?” Kendo replied.
“Course I did, you idiot. Just because it’s some fancy-ass CEO though doesn’t mean we have to be here.”
“Well, I suppose I have worked pretty hard to get to where I am now. I could be doing something a lot more gratifying than this. Can’t say the same thing about you though.”
“Fuck you!”
“You wish you could,” Kendo rolled his eyes.
“What’d you say you little shit?!”
Kendo glanced side-ways at Takumi, who’s fist was clenching up. Kendo could see the clear veins outlining those knuckles and sighed, “I’m not the one with the temper problem that’s prevented me from moving up through the ranks, you know?”
It’d been two years and already the kid was prancing around like he owned the entire goddamn place. That pissed Takumi off. “You’re not in charge of this operation.”
“Neither are you.”

Takumi thought back to those memories. Standing in the middle of a pristine room. Standing at a desk facing a man who insisted on dressing solely in Gucci. The insufferable prick. The man had run through the plans of the operation with Takumi. He knew how much of a gamble it was to go through with this, but he also understood what an honour it was to be entrusted with a mission like this.

Takumi sighed, “Yeah, that’s true kid.” He hated that he had to back down. Even more so when he saw that smug smirk Kendo gave in return.

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I haven’t written anything in forever. So sorry that this is Not That  Great™.

Jaxon had disappeared into the kitchen to mourn the death of his dishwasher.

It’d been a good dishwasher too. Served its purpose. Lived a long life. All that crap. I hoped that he’d get a new one quickly though, unless he wants to be doing all the dishes every night after closing up the pub. Though the town’s small. So he’d easily be able to get away with doing that.
– I leaned up against the bar ledge, closing my eyes and appreciating the breeze that blew through the open door. Jaxon always called me up if something broke. Somehow I’d become the pub’s unofficial handyman. Probably didn’t help that I had taken up an apprenticeship at the local mechanic’s. Or should I say only mechanic…
– “I need to get out of here,” I groaned. This small town was suffocating. Same routine, same people, same day, same everything. Repeated and repeated over and over again until the end of time. I groaned again.
– “You could just go,” a voice replied. I jumped, startled at the new noise before I turned around to see a smile, a slight tip of a chin positioned upwards. An almost knowing glint in oceanic eyes. With something distinctly… foreign about her.
– “Can’t,” I said. “My life’s here. Family, friends – I can’t leave them behind.”
– “Why not? Go out, start a new life. Go somewhere. Do something. Be anyone you want to be.”
– “How ‘bout I shout you a drink?”
– “You’re not the bartender?”
– “Definitely not. I know shit about it booze apart from how much will make me piss drunk.”

She walked along the train track rails, her balance slightly off this late into the night.
– “You still never have told me where you’re from,” I prompted her.
– “Nowhere,” she murmured, eyes closed and face tilted upwards. Like a silent prayer towards the stars.
– “You were born somewhere though.”
– “I was. Doesn’t mean that I stayed there though. Doesn’t mean that I belonged there.”
– She stretched out her arms wide. Almost like she was a chick as she stumbled across the railings. Like a small bird trying to get its wings off the ground, still so unsure of itself. She fell off to the side though, her dress covered in dirt as a result. I laughed though at her, and reached out a hand to help her up. Yet she knocked it away, instead to turn her face away. “You could come with me,” she whispered. Her words carried faintly in the night air.
– I chuckled, “I’ve already told you. I have to stay here.”
– “You don’t belong here,” she retorted, her eyes lacking that spark that they once shone with during our first moments together.
– I reached out my hand again to pull her up and into an embrace.
– “Maybe I don’t. But you don’t seem much happier than me, do you?”

She waved good-bye, stepping onto the train. The doors closed, with that creaky clack of them shutting as what was the sign of the train’s readiness to departure. She disappeared further into the carriage, and I watched it slowly leave. The screeching of the metal on metal consumed everyone else.

There went the train. Able to at least leave this place for a while.

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I don’t even really know what this is. I wrote parts of it for a creative writing piece last semester and the story line is pretty silly and the characterisation sort of stuff isn’t the best, but it gave me happy vibes to write/edit so I’m sticking with it. It was fun.

If there was anything as unskilled at crocheting, then Arlo sure was it. Now don’t get Gene wrong, Arlo is great at many things – take writing and astrophysics as examples. So how anyone, let alone his boyfriend, could manage to butcher basic stitches or mangle a test swatch was beyond Gene’s comprehension.
– “Hey baby.” Gene sits down next to Arlo, placing his hand on his partner’s back as Arlo determinedly hooks yarn. “I know you really want to give your sister a great present for the baby and all, but do you really need to make little clothes for it?”
– “Of course. I just think it’s much more special this way! My niece can have her own collection then.”
Gene curses those damned baby blue eyes that twinkle at him and immediately feels any protest that’s on the tip of his tongue crumble.
– “I think Chrissy’ll love it. Remember that picture of the beach she painted for our anniversary? I want to give her something more personal like that.”
– “Okay then…” Gene sighs, praying that everything would turn out fine.

But then Arlo starts to leave his hooks and scissors out on the couch and Gene is too exhausted after his twenty-four hour shift at the fire station to notice the impending doom he’s about to sit on. And then Arlo starts to forego some fun night activities because he wants to work on his chaining technique. And okay, so maybe Gene and Little Gene could survive that for a while even if their whining suggests otherwise.
Yet while Gene spends his weeks complaining about Arlo’s single-minded focus on crocheting, Arlo doesn’t seem to get much better at it. Sure his pieces are no longer littered with as many holes as they once were, but they’re still the ugliest creations Gene’s ever seen. And usually Gene’s a person who praises his partner for everything. He even thinks that Arlo is cute in the morning snoring with his mouth open, drool running down his chin and onto Gene’s chest. So some red flags start going off in Gene’s head.
And then Arlo starts to go to Gene’s mother for advice. So now Gene’s patience is wearing almost as thin as Arlo’s attempts at scarves are. It’s one of these evenings when they’re visiting Gene’s mother so that she could show Arlo how to slip stitch his yarn, because apparently Arlo still couldn’t even do that correctly, that Gene leaves them alone for two minutes to come back to his mother telling Arlo how he kept all of his plush toys until he was thirteen. Gene grits his teeth, feeling his jaw tense. But it’s okay. He’s comfortable enough with his masculinity to know that it’s fine if Arlo knows that deep, dark secret.
– “I think I actually have a photo of him crying when I finally threw them all out!” his mother yells in delight.
Gene smacks his head into the wall, wishing for a quick and merciful death.

Gene’s up on the ladder rescuing a kitten when it happens. He receives a call-out to an apartment, where a small fire has started. It’s at an apartment that he knows well…
– “What the absolute fuck Arlo?” Gene screeches as soon as he sees his boyfriend out on the street.
– Arlo hops from foot to foot, “I got… distracted.”
– “You got distracted? How the fuck can you get so distracted that you let our kitchen burn?” Gene yells.
– Arlo winces, “I-I’ll explain later. Can you please just put out the fire first?” He hides his face in his hands, burning red.
Right, their kitchen. He needs to save it. Still enraged, Gene curses the whole way as he stomps towards their apartment.
– When Gene then marches up to Arlo after the fire fiasco has been sorted out, Arlo immediately goes to hide his face in Gene’s neck before raising his arms up for a hug. He mumbles an almost inaudible, “I’m sorry.” Arlo whimpers, “I forgot about the stove when I was finishing up the sweater…”
– “Arlo, it’s been weeks. Don’t you think it’s time to give up the crocheting shit?”
– “I just wanted to give Chrissy something nice, you know? I thought it would be sweeter than just buying her something,” Arlo sniffles. “I didn’t think I’d be so bad at it.”
– “You did you’re best. No-one can take that away from you,” Gene says, hoping that Arlo will for once give up on something.
– Arlo grunts. It’s distorted by his runny nose, but he’s still reluctant to give up on his crocheting dreams. The stubborn shit.
 “If you don’t agree to stop, then I swear to God that I won’t buy you that hardback copy of Carrie for your birthday complete with those author notes,” Gene threatens.
– After some contemplation, Arlo finally replies, “I guess we can buy that cute little ensemble we saw the other day? The one with the cat whiskers on it?”
– “Yeah, that sounds good,” Gene agrees, running his fingers through Arlo’s hair and thanking every God he knew that Arlo was agreeing to stop with this ridiculous endeavour. Arlo didn’t even put up that much of a fight, so Gene thanks his lucky stars again. He doesn’t even mind that much that they’re going to have to fork out a ridiculous amount of money to fix their kitchen area. Instead he chooses to think about how happy Little Gene is going to be. Insurance should cover most of the damages anyway.

But that means that when Gene later sees a pair of disfigured, tiny, pink socks at the base of the gift bag he hands over to Christine… Well, in all honestly, he kind of expected it… He just huffs and rolls his eyes before leaning over to kiss the corner of Arlo’s mouth. This affirms Arlo that Gene still loves his boyfriend, even if said boyfriend can’t crochet for shit and they had to rebuild most of their kitchen because of him.