Td Svetlana - Tumblr Posts

All the ways Zoey says "I Love You."

"Multiples just means there's more Mike to love!"

Zoey loves Mike, even though ... he isn't always Mike. But that's okay, because she loves the different people who live in his mind just as much.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike — Touch

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when, because it had crept up on me — Mike had crept up on me — and the love I had for him left me breathless. 

It hit me one day when Mike and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie that I didn’t really know when I fell in love with Mike.

I never forgot that moment on Total Drama, when Mike had held my hand, my heart beating faster than a hummingbird as he looked at me with his beseeching eyes as he told me the truth about him and his alters, about how he really liked me and how he didn’t want to lose me. 

I held his hand, my eyes soft and understanding as he told me somethings he’s never really told anyone before. I think what really shocked him was how I understood. I didn’t look confused or freaked out, I didn’t tell him to back off or slap him. 

I had merely laughed at how silly the situation was, because I really, really liked him and he really, really liked me and I had leaned into him telling him how much I loved oddballs. 

Maybe that’s why I fell for him, because he was so different. 

Mike was one of a kind. 

I love him. 

I’d do anything for Mike; as long as he’s here with me, as long as I can hold his hand and smile back at him, I’d go to the ends of the earth for Mike, and he’d do the same for me. 

I turned to look at Mike, who’s shoulder I’ve been using as a pillow during our movie and he turned to look at me with that cute grin of his. I smiled back, my thoughts slowing as our faces moved closer and closer, until our foreheads were touching. 

It was quick, only a short moment where I leaned over and pressed my lips against his, but it felt like all the love just rushed through my body in a single flash. I sighed against his lips, trying to emulate everything I felt through touch alone.

“I love you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chester — Acts of Service

I won’t lie — Chester was hard to talk to. 

Chester only came out when Mike was frustrated, so usually meant the old man would complain about whatever circumstances and groan about today’s youth whenever I would talk to him. 

However, I was determined to get through to the old man and actually get him to enjoy himself.  

“Are you having fun, Chester?” I asked as I struggled to secure a wriggling worm to my fishing pole. 

“Eh, fun is for the youth.” Chester swatted his hand irritably. “Back in my day, it was either work and survive or shrivel up and die. We didn’t have any time for this “fun” nonsense ‘cause we were always working so hard. You lazy youngsters are havin’ fun all the time ‘cause you ain’t workin’ as hard!”

I cringed, not sure how to respond to that, before I decided on optimism. “Well, you never know, you might have fun fishing! This was my grandfather’s favorite hobby when I was a kid.”

“And where’s your grandfather now? You dump him in an old folk’s home?” 

I went quiet, staring at the hook and worm in my hands. “No. He— he died. When I was a kid.”

Chester, fortunately, seemed to somber at that, making no more complaints as he dropped his line into the water and let it sink. 

“Sorry.” I shook myself out of the memories of my lonely childhood. “I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I just … miss him.” Looking at Chester, I smiled. “You know, I think if he was still alive, you and him would be good friends.” 

“Friends?” A spark seemed to light in old Chester’s eye, before he quickly extinguished it with a grumpy scowl. “Meh, I don’t have any friends. Those silly things are for young whippersnappers just like yourself.” 

“I don’t know, anybody can be friends with anybody. I, for one, would like to be friends with you.” 

Chester stared at me with his one eye, not quite glaring and not quite scowling, before he turned away with a huff. I bit my tongue trying to keep away the hurt. It’s just one day, I reminded myself. It’s only been one day. You’ll get through to him. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I saw a tug on the fishing pole. “Chester! You have a bite!” I gasped. 

Chester began reeling in his line, and for a minute I thought I saw something like excitement in his eye.

It went on like this for months. 

I would take Chester out and would try to help him enjoy himself and have fun, even if all he did was complain. I would always help him out, even if he was suspicious of my niceness. 

It took a lot of perseverance and patience on my part to get him to open up to me. Every act of service I would do for him was regarded with suspicion, and every smile was met with a glare. 

But slowly, Chester stopped grumbling and seemed to appreciate what I would do. Granted, he would still grumble and complain, but whenever I would offer him help or a way to have fun, he seemed to make less of an ordeal than before. 

One day Chester came up to me when I was laying on my couch reading a book, hand gripping the wooden cane I bought him and scowled at me.

“Yes, Chester?” I asked primly, closing the book. “Do you need anything?” 

Chester had glared at me, and in his usually wheezy voice, told me that there was a ventriloquist performance in town and he wanted to go, where I would then tell him about myself and my grandfather — but if there were any youngsters and their “rock and roll nonsense” there I could forget about it. He told me that he would absolutely not have fun and that we were definitely not friends. 

I was smiling the whole time, even though the puppet was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen and that it told the most corniest jokes in the most horrible voice I’d ever heard. I was smiling the whole time because Chester was laughing the whole time, having fun. 

It was like a turning point in Chester’s and I’s relationship. The empty gap I felt since my grandfather died was always a bit fuller whenever I was with Chester. 

The old man seemed to appreciate the effort I would put into every act of service I did for him, saying that it was good that “a young whippersnapper such as myself was respecting my elders”.

I leaned down to hug the old man with a smile, feeling myself glow with happiness. “I love you, Chester.”

Chester seemed to stiffen, at the contact or what I said, I didn’t know. “Eh, you ain’t too bad — for a youngster.” Chester grumbled, but couldn’t help the smile from growing on his grumpy face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Svetlana — Receiving Gifts

Svetlana was — by far — one of the easiest alters to get along with. 

She was so bright and cheery, enthusiastic and fun it was impossible to not like her. The first time Svetlana and I hung out I was surprised how easily we clicked. Apparently, she had always wanted to meet me, seeing how happy I made Mike. 

I grew up as a lonely child, so Svetlana was like a breath of fresh air, the girl friend I always wanted. 

We hung out all the time, watching those sappy romantic movies that make the guys gag, we went shopping — but the thing we did together most was gymnastics. 

I’ll admit that the first time Svetlana saw me climbing the trees in my backyard, I purposefully showed off; doing more flips than nessacary as Svetlana stared in awe. 

“Vhere did you learn something like that?” She’d gasped as I climbed down the tree. I shrugged, trying to keep the blush off my face. 

“Just something I picked up,” I waved nonchalantly. “I was always a bit of a wild child growing up.”

“Oh, you must try gymnastics!” Svetlana gushed, and of course I said yes because I was an absolute people’s pleaser; and if I knew Svetlana, she wouldn’t stop asking until I said yes. 

Besides, how hard could gymnastics be?

“Ah, hah … Svetlana … can we please take a break?”  I panted days later, drenched with sweat. “My legs are about to fall off.” 

“Rest after success!” Svetlana declared cheerfully, looking as perfect and polished as she did before practice started. “Now, complete zhe triple point axle!” 

I groaned, nearly folding into myself as my knees weakened at the thought. Svetlana was a brutal coach, having me perform all kinds of complicated flips even though she insisted they were “beginner”. 

Yeah, right. 

Sighing, I got into position and took a running leap — only to fail miserably as I twisted wrong and promptly faceplanted in front of my coach. 

“Hmmm … perhaps you can use a little break.”

I merely groaned, wallowing in my misery as I heard Svetlana leave, then return a moment later. 

Something cold touched my shoulder, and I turned to see Svetlana holding out a water bottle with a kind smile. “You are not so bad, for an amateur.” She said. “Svetlana is sorry if she has been … overzealous. None of the others has shown an interest in gymnastics.”

I smiled and unscrewed the bottle. “It’s okay. It must be hard to be the only girl in a brain full of five guys.”

Svetlana scoffed. “Oh, you ‘ave no idea.” With that, she launched into a full on rant with me listening patiently, our lesson forgotten. 

Months later, Mike told me Svetlana had a big competition coming up — only the best of the best would be there. And she wanted me to come. 

Svetlana won the whole thing and got a perfect score. As the cheers rang out, Svetlana flounced over to me, practically glowing from her victory as I flung my arms around my friend, clutching the flowers I was going to gift her. 

I laughed, beaming. “I love you, Svetlana!”

The words slipped out before I even realized it, but Svetlana didn’t seem to mind as she seemed to press me tighter into the hug.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Vito — Words of Affirmation

Out of all the personalities in Mike’s head — besides Mal — I got along with Vito the least.

It was just … he was just so …

Vito didn’t get a lot of time out of Mike’s head, so he was sure to make it count.

When Vito came outside, he wanted to do what he wanted. He wanted to live, to meet people, to experience as much as he could before the shirt was pulled on once more and he had to be crammed into one head with multiple personalities.

I’ve tried to talk to Vito, I really have, but most of the time he would treat me like a pest he couldn’t get rid of. Every time I try to talk to him he just ends up hurting my feelings somehow. He’ll tell me I’m not that pretty or that I’m annoying him, and sometimes I would have to storm off to stop myself from punching him in the face. Honestly, the only reason why he didn't have a missing tooth by now was because he had Mike's face.

And for a while I thought that was all we were going to be. A jerk to me, and a nuisance to him. 

Until …

Vito stormed into the room I was in, looking ticked off with a dark look in his eyes. I looked up from the book I was reading on the couch.

“Vito, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep the right amount of concern in my voice. Too much and he would tell me to back off and shove my pity somewhere else. Too little and he would think I didn’t care. 

“Nothin,’' he shrugged. “What could possibly be wrong when you’re this sexy?” As if to prove his point, he started to flex his muscles in a way that was … admittedly distracting, yes, but I refused to be swayed. 

“Vito …” 

“I don’t need ya pity, Red,” He told me casually — and yes, there it is. How can it be that he’s so good at reading me like I’m with him, but we still don’t get along?

“It’s not pity, I’m just worried about you.” I said, closing the book I was reading to give him my full attention. “Can’t I be worried about you?”

Vito glowered at me, looking at me with a mixture of annoyance and mistrust, before turning away. 

Thinking quickly, I said, “You know, we’re not too far from the beach. Do you want to go swimming and work on your tan?” 

That seemed to catch his interest a little. “I could go for some rays. But don’t ya think this makes us all buddy buddy or anything!”

“Of course not,” I stood up and patted his shoulder. “I’m going to go grab the surfboards. Can you start the car?” 

I walked away to hear Vito’s surprised exclamation of knowing I could surf and smirked.

From that day forward, Vito and I became friends … sort of. 

He would still get on my nerves like no other but … I think we reached an understanding, one can say. He made me competitive, wanting to prove myself and him wrong. We went back and forth when we conversed, but not in a bad way, but in a fun way. 

But for some reason, there was still this underlying tension between us, one that would make my stomach knot for no good reason. It confused me, and I could tell Vito could feel it too. 

The way he would flirt and flaunt in front of women when I was right there, the way he was always obsessing over his self-proclaimed “hotness”. For some reason it bugged me to no end, just like it did back on Total Drama when Vito was with Anne Maria. 

But I didn’t want to dig into it. Vito and I were finally getting along, and I didn’t want to complicate things and make us go back to the way things were. 

“So, how come you’re with a dorkus like Mike when ya can be with someone much more attractive, like me?” Vito asked one day as he drove us to the beach. Vito kept insisting that I needed to work on my tan even after I repeatedly told him that “I don’t tan, I burn.”

Vito smirked and did an eyebrow wiggle that made me snort into my hand. “You share the same body, genius.” I roll my eyes and giggle. “Besides, I’m more of a substance-over-style type of girl.”

“A dying breed.” 

“Maybe, but one that does not fail.”

“The Vito can’t be held down by any broad,” he boasted.

“That’s because you haven’t met the right one yet.” I countered.

Vito seemed to pause at that, and I fell quiet. Right. How could Vito ever meet a girl when Vito wasn’t even out? It would be hard to find a girl and settle down if you weren’t even in control of your own body half of the time. Would Vito ever find his girl? Did he even want a girl?

I remembered that first day Vito and I hung out, he had quietly told me how he had gone to see Anne Maria, and that they had gotten into a huge fight because she thought he was choosing me over her. She wouldn’t listen — or couldn’t understand — that he was Vito, not Mike.

I turned to look at him and felt my stomach clench. Vito … 

He would need someone to understand him, to know when he was sad or angry. Someone who could keep up with him, someone who wasn’t afraid to call him out, someone who knew —

I stopped cold. Someone like me.

When I told Vito “I love you,” it was quick and quiet, slipping out between my breath as we slammed the car doors shut. It’s noise should have drowned the words out, but I knew he still heard from the way he stopped.

Vito went quiet and still, and that freaked me out like no other because Vito was never those two things. He was cocky and obnoxious, always instigating conflicts and preening over his looks in his loud Italian accent. 

He was always moving, whether it was to flex for the ladies or to slick his hair back or to mess with his golden necklace and to tap out the beats of music that would thrum through the car.

I instantly slapped a hand over my mouth the moment those words escaped, berating myself for possibly saying the stupidest thing of my life in front of Vito …

… when he did something unexpected.

Slowly, Vito reached over, cupped my face, and kissed me. 

It was thrilling, warm and soft with a hint of spice. Vito was a master at kissing, from his warm lip-only kisses to his more heated tongue-centric kisses. He was good, leading me with such skill that I found myself giving back as much as I received.

Vito pulled back, gauging my reaction with his dark eyes as I stared back, vulnerable and lightheaded from the kiss. An unavoidable blush rose to my cheeks.  

My mouth worked, opening and closing as I tried to find my voice. “... you just kissed me.”

“You just said you loved me.” Vito challenged back. 

Touché, I thought. 

I contemplated what just happened in my still-fuzzy head, weighing my decisions before finally settling on one.

Face still flushed, I asked, “If I said I loved you again, would you kiss me again?”

In response, Vito pulled me closer and my heart flew out of my chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Manitoba — Quality Time

One of the things that enraptured me first about Manitoba Smith was his thirst for adventure. He spoke of stories that … normally wouldn’t make sense, given that he was an alter in Mike’s brain, but still spoke of dangerous adventures and freedom and wilderness that I wanted to experience. 

Manitoba offered to take me one. 

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” I gasped as Manitoba and I hiked up the steep side of the mountain. My legs felt like they were about to collapse with every step I took and my breath had left me miles back. 

“Come on now, Sheila, we’re almost there. You were the one who wanted to go on an adventure with me, remember? Not that I blame you, of course. Manitoba Smith is the best adventurer of this century.”

I looked up to see the said Australian holding out his hand, smiling. Gratefully, I took his hand and he hoisted me up. “There we go.”

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” I huffed. “This is exhausting.”

“Now, now. I have years of experience with exploring, and you’re just a beginner. Only time has bearing on a man’s skill, should he be one or one hundred.”

“Or woman.” I added. 

Manitoba only smirked crookedly and we continued climbing in peace, while I looked back on the memories. 

This wasn’t the first time Manitoba and I had gone on one of his adventures. It had happened a while ago, when I had offhandedly blurted out how I wanted to go on one of his adventures. I was more than suprised when he agreed to take me. 

That was months ago, and since then, Manitoba and I had gone on multiple travels together. He had been kind enough to show me the ropes, even though it was through multiple flirting attempts. 

It was nice though, I mused as we reached the destination point, to spend time with Manitoba. There was a lot more to him than met the eye, and on every trip we made I was uncovering more treasured pieces of him that made up the whole. 

We finished setting up camp and both sat on the edge of mountain, precariously dangling our feet over open air. We were both quiet, just enjoying the moment and the quality time together when suddenly—

“Why do you make it so hard for me to flirt with you?” Manitoba asked. 

“Well, if I made it easy then you wouldn’t flirt with me at all,” I replied without thinking. There was a beat of silence, and it quickly dawned on me what I said. With a flash of horror and embarrassment, I whipped my head towards Manitoba to see his surprised gaze reflecting my own. 

For once, Manitoba Smith was at a loss of words. 

I smacked a hand over my mouth, turning away. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud.” I mumbled, almost to myself. “Sorry, forget I said anything.” 

Before I could fully close off from him, Manitoba grabbed my chin and gently guided it back so I could meet his eyes. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” He chided. “Don’t pull away.” 

I puffed my cheek out, annoyed and embarrassed. Manitoba merely grinned, cocky and bright-eyed as he took in my reaction. 

“So, does this mean you like it when I flirt with you?” 

I refused to answer, knowing he was only asking this because now he knew the answer. As if I would inflate his ego anymore than I had now. 

 Manitoba’s eyes glinted and he leaned closer, until he was right in my face. No doubt it was the color of my hair. “It’s okay to admit it, sweetheart. I rather like flirting with you too.”

I pushed his face away. “Well, you’re certainly a better flirt than Vito. All he does is flex his muscles.”

Manitoba smirked crookedly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I rolled my eyes.

A couple hours passed, with Manitoba staring a fire and cooking us dinner before we were both back on the ledge, watching for the sunset. 

Manitoba dangled his feet over the ledge, eyes trained on the dying sun as it cast shades of red and gold. 

I found my eyes slowly being drawn away from the view, turning to look at Manitoba Smith. He was quiet, taking in every moment of the sunset’s beauty. I felt my heart in my throat. 

Oh. 

He looked— he looked — 

I didn’t just like Manitoba, I realized. I loved him. 

It was the accent that caught my attention at first— an Australian one, that held a certain cockiness in the voice

Then it was his bravery, facing whatever challenge came to him head-on. 

Then it was his kindness, his selfless nature, his confidence. It was all of that, all of him, that made me realized how much I loved spending time with him, how much I loved his company, how much I loved him

I wasn’t one to hold back from telling the truth, and he wasn’t one to shy away from what he was feeling. So with that in mind, I plucked up my last strand of bravery, swallowed back my nerves, and said, “I love you.” 

There was a split second of silence, then—

“I was wondering when you would get around to saying that.”

I whipped my head around. “Excuse me?” Was he seriously taking my confession as a joke? Something to boost his own ego? Well, then—

I froze, biting back the verbal lashing I was about to give him when I saw his face. 

There wasn’t the usual confident glint in his eyes or the cocky grin on him. Instead, Manitoba Smith was looking at me tenderly with a gentle smile on his face that looked so different, but at the same time, so right.

I swallowed the heart in my throat. 

Oh. 

“That’s seriously all you have to say to me? ‘What took you so long?’” I rolled my eyes in fake exasperation, trying to hide the amusement in my voice and failing. 

“Well, of course! I happen to be an Australian heartthrob for the ladies. I’m impressed you managed to hold off for so long.” Manitoba winked. 

“You’re a lot of work. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m worth it.”

I snorted, even though I couldn’t exactly deny his claims. I leaned my head on his shoulder and we sat in silence, both of us just enjoying each other’s presence as the sun sank behind the horizon. 

“So, uh, think you’ll be going on any more adventures with me, Sheila?” Manitoba asked sheepishly. 

I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I just might.” I said, smiling.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mal — ?

Sometimes on cold nights Mal would come out.

He had toned down since Total Drama All Stars, but his reputation had preceded him so at first I was always cautious and kept my distance whenever he would appear.

But Mal was different. Quieter. He didn’t burst into fits of rage or go on a streak of vengence like all of us expected; instead he was more mellow.

Granted, he was still Mal — he would still threaten bodily harm whenever I annoyed him (which was a lot), he still had a cruel sense of humor, and perhaps he did still have a sadistic edge to him – but it wasn't like he was trying to drown me or anything like he did during the finale, so I figured it was okay to try and talk to him.

And ... strangely enough, it was.

Mal was tight-lipped and short whenever I would pry for conversation, and oftentimes would respond with scathing remarks that would hurt my feelings or pride.

But he never physically hurt me. Ever.

Months passed, and slowly ... oh so slowly ... he opened up.

Mal talked to me.

He told he about his past, how he would fill in Mike's memory gaps from his childhood. He told me about juvie, about how he had to stay in control because someone of Mike's caliber would have been chewed up and spit out in a place like that. He told me how the others came to be, why they came to be, through awful, awful stories that made me sick to my stomach because that happened to Mike, and the people I loved didn't know, and Mal had to remember.

I think the thing that shocked Mal most was that I listened. I stayed. I cared, even though at the beginning he thought it was fake. I tried to understand him, I listened to his problems, and tried to help him through them.

The funny thing was, I wasn’t even in love with him at the time I was doing those things.

Sometimes Mal would say he wanted a break, so whenever he was out and at my place I took him to my rooftop to let him breathe.

It worked better than I thought, because on some days when I wasn’t even home he would just break into my house and sneak onto my roof.

On cold nights like tonight, Mal would come out onto my rooftop and draw. I sat down a couple feet from him, since I knew he liked his personal space. The cold tiles bit through my jean bottoms as I wrapped my arms around myself. My misty breath floated in front of my face and into the night sky.

I peered over at what Mal was sketching and had to stop myself from giggling. A menacing tower was etched on the page. Overlooking a volcano. Bats and skulls flew from the paper.

I watched him with a smile on my face. Mal was absorbed with his art, occasionally blowing his hair out of his eye as his pencil worked across the page.

"You're staring," Mal startled me out of my daze with his low tone.

"Sorry." I laughed a bit nervously. "I'm just a bit distracted today. I’m happy."

Mal didn't say anything for a bit, before he said without looking up, "You're always happy."

I chuckled. "Yeah, but today I realized something that made me really happy."

There was a brief silence, and I could feel him prompting.

I took a deep breath. This is it, I thought. Like ripping off a band-aid.

"I just realized that I loved you."

The sounds of sketching stopped, and I determinedly stared up at the star-speckled sky before I looked down and began fiddling with the worn red sleeves of my hoodie.

My stomach started twisting itself in anxious knots as the silence dragged on, and I can feel Mal's eyes set me on fire as I avoid his gaze.

For once, I can't read his silences, and that alone was making me nervous. Before I could get up and excuse myself, something warm and lean pressed up against my side.

"Huh?" I said, because I have genuinely never been so confused in that moment.

Mal ignored me and continued to lean against me as he drew. I was completely baffled as he began whistling his signature tune with a small smile/smirk – the one he always used whenever he was in –

I gasped. My heart skipped a beat and it suddenly felt like a million tons was lifted from my shoulders.

"You –" I stopped, because natually he wasn't going to answer.

I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding as an exhilarated smile split my face. I bit my lip to control my giddy grin as I gently twined my fingers with his, squeezing once as he stiffened, then relaxed.

Mal squeezed back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

to love and to learn

I’ve had this request since 2022 and had half done for more than a year now. Sorry it took so long! 😭

Summary: (to have and to hold)

Zoey navigates her relationship with Mike and co. throughout the year, learning that just because things are tough doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold onto who they are.

A girl with a heart as big as hers shouldn’t be afraid to speak it.

| he is so many things. he is everything. she loses her heart and gets it back, this time ready to hold on. |

*♥️*🩵*

Mal (Spring)

Zoey unlocked the door to her place, purposefully making more noise than necessary as she closed the door and placed all her belongings on the table.

“I’m back!” She called out.

The empty house said nothing back and Zoey sighed, heart sinking. She didn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. Her house was always empty, always silent, always dark. Normally, that would be any teenager's dream, but Zoey had always felt constricted when she was alone — like she was one tug away from panicking.

Separation anxiety, is what Courtney would call it. Neglect.

Zoey the Lonely, is what the elementary school kids called her.

It wasn’t like Zoey’s parents were bad or anything like that. They were just … never around. They were busy with work and away on trips often, which was fine because they were making money and putting a roof over her head. So Zoey didn’t say anything when they didn’t call her and she always smiled when the neighbors asked how her parents were and if she was fine …

Zoey shook her head out of the thoughts she wandered in. She had friends — close friends, better than anything she could have asked for — and that was enough.

Zoey walked over to the fridge and opened it — only to find absolutely nothing at all. Zoey quickly began looking through the shelves in the pantry and resisted the urge to sigh.

Right, she was supposed to go grocery shopping like, a week ago, curse finals for making her forget —

Zoey grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone and walked out of the house even though it was midnight.

Anything was better than being alone in an empty house.

* * *

Zoey is a sixteen year old girl walking home alone late at night, and apparently that’s some sort of welcome mat to get mugged.

Her credit card is weeping from the amount of things she’s bought but the food will last her a while so she doesn’t have to go shopping again. Zoey’s in good spirits as she crosses the street.

Normally, she would take the buses, but she doesn’t want to wait around outside when it’s one am and she has school tomorrow — well, today. She's also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let her guard down a bit, so it's a real shame that she immediately gets jumped by thugs the moment she does.

Zoey shrieks when a heavy hand covers her mouth and she gets dragged into an alleyway. Her back slams into a wall behind her, and Zoey counts three big, dark, intimidating thugs in front of her.

"Hands up, sweetheart, nice and easy," the biggest guy says, waving his gun at her.

Ice-cold fear shot in her veins and she instinctively reached for her pepper spray. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt empty space. She forgot it!

"He said hands up, kid!" the second guy barks at her, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Zoey’s shoulder.

Zoey flinches. Great, not only would she be killed by thugs, she would be killed by amateur thugs. With the way they were holding the guns, she would most likely be shot by their own carelessness rather than actual intention.

"We don't want any trouble, just your money."

Zoey bit back a retort. Yeah, because teenagers just happen to be real millionaires. Who's even teaching these guys how to pick targets —

The thugs move forward, and Zoey cuts off her inner dialogue. Adrenaline races through her veins and her hands tremble at her sides. Just as she tries to summon her voice to call for help, or to desperately use one of Courtney’s self-defense lessons —

“Hey.”

All four of them jump, and the three thugs turn around to see two figures. Zoey couldn’t make out their facial features in the dark, but one was short and stocky while the other was tall and lanky.

The short one took a menacing step forward. “Leave the girl alone, and I promise we’ll leave you with your teeth intact.”

The thugs laugh. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, there’s three of us, and two of you. And we have guns.”

The tall one walks forward, and the thugs gasp. From her place Zoey can’t see who he is, but it makes the thugs tremble.

“B-boss … it’s the Malevolent One! And … the short mohawked green punk!”

Short mohawked green punk? That sounded like someone she knew, but who was the Malevolent One?

Caught up in her musings, Zoey almost didn’t notice the conversation going on.

"Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we're pointing a gun at you — "

Duncan just grins wider, cracks his knuckles, and throws himself into a fight.

Zoey screams as Duncan tackles the thug that called him short and gleefully begins going to town on him. The Malevolent One moves like a shadow, knocking the gun from the thug leader and sending him unconscious.

Slowly, they both turn to look at the last thug standing.

The thug’s face loses all its color and he jumps back in terror, screaming as he drops his gun in his haste to escape.

Zoey is frozen, gasping hard as her knees tremble. The two took on three armed thugs and managed to escape with only bruised knuckles.

Zoey’s legs suddenly give out.

“Hey, Zo, are you okay?” A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Zoey looks up to see Duncan staring down at her.

Zoey can’t help but smile. Duncan liked to put up this bad-boy image to make him seem tough, but secretly he had a soft heart. Zoey was glad to be one of the few to see it.

“Yeah, I — um, yeah. Just in shock. No need to worry about me.”

Duncan offers a hand to help her up, handing her the groceries in the process. Zoey shakily stands up, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Duncan.”

She looks at the other guy, whose figure was hiding in the shadows. “Thanks …” she trails off hesitantly.

He steps into the light and her heart stops. Mike, is her first thought. The tall, lanky body, the skin color, the face. Then she looks closer — the frown on his lips, the dark look on his face, the hair covering his eye.

“Mal,” Zoey says. Her throat suddenly feels extremely dry and she resists the urge to swallow.

“Zoey,” he responded neutrally.

Duncan looks back and forth, obviously picking up the strange air between them. “So, are you headed home?” He asked. Zoey and Mal both broke off the weird trance they found themselves in from staring at each other.

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I was just walking back.”

Duncan takes the grocery bags and turns away. “Come on, we’ll walk with you! Don’t want you to get mugged again, do we?”

Zoey exchanged a bewildered look with Mal, but when he merely raised a brow she quickly flushed and hurried after Duncan.

No way was she letting herself be robbed two times in a night.

* * *

“Hey,” Zoey suddenly asked on the walk back. “Where’s Scott?”

Scott, Duncan, and Mal were the “bad guys” of the neighborhood, the misfits. They liked going out at night and causing trouble — nothing serious or endangering, but just enough graffiti to give the police a headache.

Zoey wasn’t very fond of Scott, but if his friends liked him and they were happy, who was she to judge?

“He stayed in because he had to do a biology project.” Duncan said casually, swinging her grocery bags from side to side. On her other side, Mal was carrying her other bags.

Zoey raised a brow. “And he cares because …”

“He’s failing. He spent three hours begging Dawn to help him out.”

Zoey cringed. He must really be desperate if he went crawling to Dawn. She hated his guts more than Zoey did.

“Right…” Zoey said, because she didn’t really know where to take the conversation.

“Anyway, where’re your parents?” Duncan asks. “Should they be the ones doing grocery shopping? Or at the very least, make you do it at a decent time?”

Zoey shrugged, suddenly not in a very chatty mood. “Oh, uh, they’re on a business trip.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t you say that last month? What —”

Zoey cut him off. “Duncan, I’m tired. So please drop the topic or else I'll text Courtney that you were on the streets beating up thugs at two am on a final’s night.” Zoey waved the phone for emphasis.

Duncan instantly backed off at the threat of bringing Courtney in. He definitely didn’t want his on-and-off girlfriend to get on his case again (even if they were broken up now). “Okay, okay, fine. I get it, I’ll back off.”

Zoey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at Mal and found his eyes already on her. They were dark and scorching, and it felt like they were burning her body apart to look into her soul. It felt like he knew every secret scrawled under her skin and was taking it apart to observe at his leisure.

Zoey looked away, her heart beating nervously as her skin tingled under his eyes. “This is my stop.” Zoey stopped walking in front of her house. “Thank you for walking me home and for carrying my bags. That was very nice of you.” Zoey sent Duncan a cheeky grin, knowing how much he disliked being called “nice”.

“Just don’t tell anyone about it,” Duncan huffed, handing her the bags. “Probably about time to start heading back anyway. Later, Zoey. See ya, Mal.” With that, Duncan turned away and walked down the street.

Leaving Zoey and Mal standing alone together on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for walking me home, Mal. I appreciate it.” Zoey held out her hand for the other grocery bag.

Mal stared at her open hand uncomprehendingly, long enough for Zoey to get uncomfortable before saying, “I’m supposed to be walking you to your house.”

“We are at my house.”

“No, we’re in front of your house,” Mal corrects.

“My house is literally right there,” Zoey stabs a finger up the front lawn. “I can carry a couple of bags across the lawn. I’ll be fine.”

But Mal just stared at her unwaveringly, so Zoey huffs and marches towards the door. Mal trails after her, and it’s only until she unlocks the front door and opens it when he gives the bags to her.

Zoey flicks on the light, already feeling unsettled by the darkness before she turns to Mal. He’s already staring at her intently, and Zoey bites her lip uncertainty. “Thank you for walking me back,” she says. “For real, this time.”

“No problem,” Mal shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking behind her to see the undeniably empty house. He turns to walk away, before he hesitates. “If you’re ever feeling lonely …” he starts, looking like he was already regretting it, “call me. I’ll always be there.”

Zoey’s face explodes in red and her mouth drops open. Mal quickly turns around and hurries away, leaving Zoey to gape after him in shock.

She closes the door before leaning against it sliding down to the floor. She buries her face in her hands, cheeks hot from her blush.

Yeah, she would call him. She did have his number after all.

She had all of theirs.

* * *

Vito (Spring)

Now, Vito has always been a massive player.

While Manitoba liked to flirt, Vito actually went out with girls. When he wasn't busy starting fights, he was chasing skirts — and while his behavior had always bothered Zoey, lately it bothered her for an entirely different reason.

That reason used to be because she hated the way Vito eyed girls like they were a piece of meat. The smug smirk he wore whenever he flirted with them made her want to punch him.

These days, it was because he flirted with girls. Period.

Not because he was a jerk about it, not because he was crude, not because he finally realized females were more than just boobs and a butt.

It was because every time she caught him winking at a girl or talking her up, it sent her blood spiking. Zoey would find herself gritting her teeth and clenching her fists and she didn't know why.

(Well, she did know why. She just didn't like it, so she ignored it.)

But the fact remained that something had changed, and it was aggravating the life out of her.

Despite everything, Zoey had resolved to simply ignore it. Whatever had happened to her would fade over time, and Vito was his own person (well … sort of. As much as he could be with five others in his brain). He was allowed to make out with whoever he wanted to.

Zoey also knew she was a major people’s pleaser and the type to obsess over every single detail — so she stuck to the mindset of ignoring Vito as well.

And it served her well, until one day after art club she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Vito, who was currently sucking face with Anne Maria.

Zoey gasped and skidded to a halt. For a moment she simply stood there, gaping. Her feet were glued to the floor and her heart was pounding rapidly.

Zoey clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her head. Zoey could feel a powerful emotion bubbling up and she bit her tongue.

What was Vito doing here? Football practice was over, he should have driven home by now. If he wanted to make out with Anne Maria then he should have done it under the bleachers — unless it was occupied by Geoff and Bridgette again. But why would he bring her here? He knew this was the path she always took to get to the bus —

Zoey suddenly stopped at the thought.

She watched as Vito pulled away and noticed Zoey staring at them in shock. For a moment their eyes met, holding a connection as they looked at each other.

Then Vito had the audacity to smirk at her, mouth pulling up in a cocky smile. His hands rested on Anne Maria’s hips and Zoey’s blood boiled.

She wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him so bad, and she wanted to rip Anne Maria off him and yell and yell and yell until he made her shut up. But she knew what Vito would look like if she did that and Zoey would rather die than give him the satisfaction.

So instead Zoey clenched her fists, scoffed in annoyance, and brushed right past them with her head held high.

Zoey was jealous. Vito didn’t need to know that.

* * *

Chester (Winter)

Zoey was late, and she was dying.

The girl flies by pedestrians, red hair blowing out behind her as she runs down the sidewalk in a full sprint. Her legs burned and her lungs ached as she took heaving breaths of cold air.

It was one of those days in Canada where the air was so frigid it literally hurt to breathe, but the clouds still stubbornly clung to the snow that would fall later. She was late to her shift at work — too busy studying for classes after school — and had missed her bus, leaving her to wait for the second one impatiently.

Zoey burst into the shop. “I’m here!” She announced grandly.

Gwen looked up mid page-turn from her book at the register, observing the disarray that was Zoey. “You’re late,” she raised a judgemental brow.

“I know, sorry. I was just so caught up with school I lost track of time.” Zoey sighs, taking off her coat. Things would be so much easier for her if she had a ride … unfortunately, she and her ride had had a falling out a while ago and she doubted they would want to talk to her anytime soon.

Shaking off the negative thoughts, Zoey falls into the routine of getting ready. She worked at a small vintage shop that was tucked into the corner of the block for decades. Gwen had introduced it to her, and she had fallen in love with the still, older vibe of the place. Zoey was naturally attracted to older aesthetics, so it made sense that she fit in here.

Gwen and Zoey worked in tandem, attending to customers and working the register until people came in fewer and fewer. After a few hours, Zoey took a breath, checking her phone. Evening had come early, the sky turning a gorgeous shade of midnight blue outside.

Gwen reappeared from the back, bundled in a beanie and scarf. “I’m going to head out early. You okay with closing?”

Zoey smiled. “Of course,” she said, waving off Gwen’s guilty eyes. “Go have fun with Trent. I’ll see you at school.”

Gwen turned crimson, said a quick goodbye, then ran out the shop to the car parked outside at the curb. She slammed the door shut, and Zoey caught a quick glimpse of Trent waving at her before they took off.

Zoey sighed and started to close up. She was glad Gwen and Trent were back together after the rocky hardships that had actually led them to breaking up for a little bit. She wasn’t sure about the details of it — some jealousies and lack of communication — but she knew for sure that Gwen had found it hard to deal with her boyfriend's OCD, and struggled to manage it. She had confessed to Zoey about it, how she struggled to keep a normal relationship with Trent when his mental disorder was constantly interfering.

Gwen had come to her about that, asking for her advice about how to have a partner and manage their mental health, and Zoey had given it, feeling like a total hypocrite in the process.

The ding of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts, and Zoey looks up with an automatic smile to treat the last customer of the day before she freezes as she recognizes the person walking through the door.

Chester.

The alter shakes out his coat, wiping snow with a decisive sort of disdain off his cane. He looks up, takes note of Zoey’s unflattering stunned expression, and says, “Are you goin’ to be sittin’ there starin’ till my bones drop off or are you goin’ to make me some tea?”

Snapping out of it, Zoey blushes, rushing to make the drink under Chester's freezing glare. She sets down the pot, pouring the liquid into the cup as Chester grumbles before sitting down awkwardly.

“So,” Zoey manages to get her voice not to squeak. “How have you been, Chester?”

“Like you care,” Chester says gruffly and takes a sip of his tea. Perfect, just how it's always been. He and Zoey always had the same taste.

“I do care, that’s why I asked,” Zoey responds patiently. Without realizing it, her tone slips into the familiar, soothing, serenade that usually came out whenever Chester made a mean comment. “Just because we haven’t spoken in a while doesn’t mean I don’t wonder how you or everyone else is.”

Chester eyes her suspiciously, and Zoey finds herself randomly struck with how she sees him as Chester, and not Mike. To anyone else, it would look like a teenage boy was acting like an old man, but that wasn’t it. Chester hunched in on himself, and had crooked fingers that always itched for his cane; he subconsciously squinted in one eye and spoke with an inflection that Zoey never knew came from. Mike was the total opposite — he walked straight, but with a small slump in his spine as if to make himself less taller; he used enthusiastic hand motions and spoke loudly when excited. He didn't even like tea like Chester — he preferred juice.

“I’m as fine as these old bones can be in this weather,” Chester says after a moment.

“I see,” Zoey smiles. “You should stay inside and keep warm — what will happen if you slip and fall?” Even if Mike’s body was still young and strong, he had Chester’s psychology — so if he fell, he’d be in immense pain because he believed he had the bones of an old man and wouldn’t be able to get up on his own because of the psychological limits in Chester’s own mind.

“ ’s not like I meant to come out on my own,” Chester scowls. “The boy was already frustrated before that darn hooligan ran the red light while we were crossing. Nearly hit us too, that no good son of a —”

“You’re walking in this weather?” Zoey interrupts before he can go on his tirade. “What about your car?” Mike’s parents had bought him a car in the middle of autumn for passing his drivers test, a beat-up old thing. But still, Mike loved it, and the rest of his alters did too, taking it and driving it around to all their individual appointments.

It had been a fight for Mike to get his license — officials were too worried about him disassociating and switching out while he was driving — but thanks to his psychiatrist’s approval and his adopted parents pushing, he was finally able to get it. She can still remember how proudly Mike's eyes had shone when he first showed her his ID.

“Parents took it away,” Chester grunted. “He was switchin’ out with the rest of us too much.”

“Oh,” Zoey’s mouth felt dry. “I —”

“He's a mess without you, you know. They all are, those stupid young fools. But you should know, with what you said before.”

Zoey feels the words hit, like a sucker-punch to the gut. Her mind flashes back to the time when she asked Mike out. She had worn her favorite red halter top, with wildflower sticker tattoos stamped up her arm as she had rubbed it shyly. She had been so nervous; it had felt like the nerves her belly had turned into a livewire full of electric butterflies.

The words she’d said to him came back to her when he asked why she liked him.

"It's just that … the sort of mess you are ... has always felt like the sort of mess I am.”

How cruel of Chester to bring that up so suddenly. But then again, Chester never really had a problem with being cruel when he wanted to get his words across. Zoey found herself momentarily at a loss of words, stomach flipping in guilt. “That’s not … I didn’t …” What was she supposed to say? Sorry? As great at apologizing as she was, that felt too insensitive to say.

She was self-aware enough to know that she couldn’t keep her friendship with Mike, not after how much she’d hurt him. Maybe if they talked more, if she’d been more commutative …

The familiar sting of tears building up mortifies Zoey and she hides her face behind her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. That only makes it worse as the pressure causes a few wayward drops to slip out. God no, she wouldn’t cry in front of Chester, she wouldn’t …

Zoey waits for the sound of disgust that should be coming from him, a grumble about how sentimental young people were, but —

Something soft touches her cheek and she looks up to see Chester avoiding her eyes, holding out a handkerchief. She sniffles, taking it from his hand and unceremoniously scrubbing her eyes as hard as she can.

“You want to help everyone. You're too sweet to be alone,” Chester says gruffly. “Too dependent on others. You’d save a houseplant if you thought it could be your friend.”

Zoey lets out a choked laugh, not sure if she should be amused or offended at the words. “I just — I thought I'd get over it by now. We weren't even together that long anyways.”

Chester stared at her. “Why do ya still miss him? You’re the one that left.”

Zoey stares down into her cup, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sometimes you don't get a choice. You think about someone ... a lot.” After she broke up with Mike, she had hoped that that would be the last of it. That he would fade into the background of all the other students, and that the only thing left would be a bittersweet memory.

But no. He still lingers, in her heart and in her mind. He was a bolt out of the blue, and a catastrophe that shakes her to the core. She could go about her day just like any other, and like a habit, she'd think of him.

“That’s what happens when ya give up on somethin’ ya care about. You grieve it just as much as you loved it.”

Zoey glances up at Chester before looking away again.

“What do I do now?” She whispers.

Chester takes a sip of his tea. “Ya know what you did wrong. Ya know what ya wanna change. The only thing that you can do now is try to be better next time around.”

Zoey blinks, the bowstring tightness drawn around her shoulders loosening at his words. She gazes into the mug like it holds all the answers, thoughts swirling around her head like a whirlwind. The fears and insecurities still weighed in her consciousness but now — although tentative — resolve was there as well.

She took a sip of her tea as well, chamomile lingering on her tongue. She could still try.

She wanted to try.

* * *

Svetlana (Winter)

Zoey watches on the sidelines as Svetlana dances on the ice, lost in her own music. The scrapes of ice against her blades are the only sound in the rink. It's completely empty, which she felt fortunate for because now Svetlana can completely focus on her routine while Zoey sits on the sidelines.

Svetlana skates by again, arms moving like the wind, somehow making the most complicated movements look like the easiest thing in the world.

She was intricately beautiful, and Zoey can’t take her eyes off her. Even with all the inner turmoil in her head, she can’t help but stop and stare at her. She knew this place — here, on the ice rink — was where Svetlana belonged. Skating was her passion, and the movements of the dance were her religion. The air rushing by her ears could clear her head more than any words can, and Zoey knows that she is the reason why Svetlana is out on the ice.

The cold bites her fingers numb and brings a rosy color to her cheeks, stinging like a slap. Zoey didn’t bring gloves with her, a self-inflicting punishment for what is to come. If this was, perhaps, a month ago, she would have been out on the ice with her, sliding on her skates and trying to catch up to Svetlana. Laughter would be echoing throughout the rink as she kept on slipping, not the void of silence now between them.

She couldn't do it anymore.

She could feel her mind fracturing the more she was stretched thin.

She was just so tired. She couldn't handle it. Dating five personalities, each with their own individual traumas, was too much. The stress, the insecurities, the fears were piling up and she just wanted a break.

She thinks (or hopes, maybe) that the others can sense it — her pulling away. It was cowardly, but she hoped that they would willingly drift off into the sea of faces in the school so that Zoey wouldn’t be able to say anything at all.

Svetlana dances across the ice, blissfully lost in her own winter wonderland and slows to a stop. She opens her eyes and catches Zoey’s. She isn’t quite sure what look reads in her gaze, but Svetlana doesn’t skate forward and close the seemingly sudden large gap between them.

Zoey was gonna break her heart. Take the fragile organ that all of the alters held so dear and shatter it into a million pieces.

* * *

Manitoba (Fall)

Manitoba pulled her along by her hand, dragging her to wherever he was taking her. She honestly had no clue. Mike had switched when he was in gym class, and the now-present Manitoba Smith had promptly ditched and went to seek Zoey out, even though she was in a different class at the time.

It had been … an experience to find out about Mike’s alters. She had known that he had some sort of disorder, because he always seemed to have a pink slip note of visiting the counselor’s office. It wasn’t until Mike had told her about his Multiple Personality Disorder —or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as Cameron often corrected— and Cameron had explained what it was when she suddenly understood.

Apparently, back at his old school, Mike had been severely bullied for his disorder and was often called a freak. Monster. Jekyll and Hyde. It had enraged Zoey beyond reason. She herself had been picked on for being different back in her old town, and she knew how much words could hurt.

When he came here, Mike’s plan of laying low was shot when he saw Duncan, who recognized him when they were in juvie, and from Scott, who had wrangled the truth from Cameron with slightly unethical means. Because it was a small school, the information traveled around the grapevine. Nobody batted an eye. Wawanaka High, if nothing else, was filled with eccentric people.

Mike had explained that he didn’t tell her about his personalities sooner because he was afraid she would think he was a freak, but Zoey had simply laughed and told him how much she loved oddballs. But secretly, she was nervous. She had no idea on how to handle his alters, or his trauma that sometimes arose at the most random things. It had been weird, and scary, and confusing, to see the boy she liked (like … really liked), acting like someone else entirely. His posture, his voice, his entire attitude did a complete turn around, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Why are you dragging me out of class?” Zoey complains. “We have midterms coming up, and—”

“You’re focusing on the wrong things, treasure!” Manitoba laughs. Zoey trips at the nickname. “You only live once! Why not make this one worth living with adventure!”

Easy for him to say. Mike was the only one who had to focus on school grades and studying. All the others were there for fun.

Manitoba leads them up the stairs to the roof and Zoey withdraws when she sees the Emergency Exit plastered on the doorway.

“Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Huh?”

“You’ll set off the fire alarm!”

Manitoba laughs like she’s said something cute. He opens the doorway to the rooftop and Zoey holds her breath, waiting for the alarms to start. When there is nothing, she lets it out almost disappointedly. A dud.

Manitoba doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk onto the roof and Zoey doesn’t pull away either as she looks around. So this is where Manitoba went whenever Mike switched out with him. Since Mike had a full-time pass to the counselor’s, he was technically obligated to go there whenever he felt like he was about to dissociate, but he and the others never did. She knows that for a fact because the other alters have been caught trying to leave school (Vito and Manitoba mostly) and now Zoey finally knows where one of them disappears.

Zoey can’t help but stare at him while his back is towards her.

She liked to keep busy. Needed to, really, because then she can ignore the persistent loneliness that ached whenever she was alone in a house that was too big for only her. So she made friends, joined clubs, and studied hard. She took it as a challenge when Cameron had asked if she would date any of the alters since she was dating Mike. If her boyfriend had more parts of himself then she wanted to know them as well.

And she liked them, too. Zoey didn’t doubt that before long she would like them just as much as she liked Mike. Svetlana had a beautiful soul and Zoey loved spending time with her. Manitoba was wild but captivating and she could feel herself getting used to him as well. Vito was coming around as well, taking her on drives whenever possible. She was slowly finding the gaps in Chester’s prickly nature and she remained a polite distance with the ever-elusive Mal.

There were doubts, perhaps, that she had been too hopeful. Not that she would ever think Mike a freak, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew. If she was truly the right person to handle this. Zoey had her own problems and insecurities, and she could admit that she was prone to keeping it in due to her upbringing — unlike Mike, who knew how to communicate thanks to his training with his therapist.

“You get quiet when you’re stressed.”

She blinks, broken out of her thoughts due to Manitoba’s casual remark.

“Sorry,” she said. “I think more in my head than aloud.”

“I know, love.”

Zoey is glad Manitoba doesn’t comment on the small jerk she makes at his nickname and her furious blush. It was still embarrassing to get used to the others’ affection.

“Now, get on the ledge, Sheila.”

Zoey raises a brow.

Manitoba’s mouth curved into a smirk. “’Course, if you’re feeling afraid I’ll have no problem holding onto a beautiful—”

Maybe it was because of the thought of Manitoba thinking that she was weak or too afraid or boring to do it, but before she thought about it she grabbed onto the metal bars separating her from the ledge and leaped over them. Her converse hit the other side and Zoey spun around to face open air. The wind wasn’t too bad, but if she let go of the bar it would only take a push to send her careening to her death.

Zoey glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “You were saying?”

Manitoba gazed at her, none of his usual cockiness in his eyes. “Look.”

She's never had a fear of heights, so she isn't afraid when she stares down at the world. Trees dappled with red, orange, and gold leaves lined the block of houses they adorned. The cars looked like toys on the winding road, the people so small they looked like ants. She hears Manitoba jump on the ledge to join her but doesn't turn her head.

“Wrong place, Shiela.”

“What?” Zoey asks. She turns to look at Manitoba only to see him watching her already.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

Without any further comment, he takes her chin and gently lifts it up so her gaze shifts upwards. Away from the town and to the world beyond that. Midnight-colored lakes, rolling plains, and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. And even farther, mountains peaking towards the blue sky, desperate to touch the clouds.

The air rushed out of her in her next breath.

And suddenly, Zoey understood what Manitoba was trying to make her get. There was a whole world out there. A whole country, and whole continent, even, and Zoey was still lost in her head. Her problems seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and Zoey was just letting her life pass her by because she let them consume her.

She stands on the edge of the rooftop. Wind brushes along her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arm, but Zoey doesn’t say anything. She didn’t bring her jacket, and Manitoba wasn’t wearing one either. Even if he was, she doubted she would ask for it. She stands on the ledge, making no move to shield herself from the wind and looks at the Canadian wilderness in front of them.

She tips her head back and closes her eyes, the wind making the loose strands of her hair fly around her. Her feet felt rooted to her place, but she imagines herself as free as a bird. She could taste the tantalizing weight of wilderness on her tongue and wants.

So Zoey stands, and stares, and breathes.

* * *

Mike (Fall)

Zoey walked into her last class of the day, Chemistry. It had taken her a while to find the classroom, so most of the tables were filled up. She spotted Lightning in the back showing off with Cody staring up with adoring eyes. Noah was on the other side of the class, rolling his eyes at the antics before burying his nose in his book.

Apprehension pooled her gut. She didn’t know who to sit by and barely knew anyone. The class was mainly filled with seniors she only knew by name with only a handful of juniors she had never spoken to.

Zoey feels sick. She wants to walk right out. Why was her social anxiety starting to act up now?

She spots a boy sitting with a table to himself, a giant bookbag next to him. He’s hunched over, like he wasn’t used to the open air around him, and is wearing thick glasses and a giant red hoodie that hide nothing with how scrawny he is. Zoey is surprised to see him have such a big bag, seeing as how the boy is basically twigs it looks like even the weight of a butterfly could knock him over.

He seemed like the safest bet to sit next to.

Zoey walks towards the small boy — anxiety trembling in her bones — and gives him a nice smile, trying to appear more confident than she truely was.

“Hi!” She greets cheerfully. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The boy jolts so hard that he nearly topples to the floor. “Oh! Yeah, sure! No problem!” He eagerly swipes all his belongings off the side of the table to make room for her.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a seat. Continue the conversation, ask questions rings in her head from all the How-To-Make-Friends podcasts she had obsessively listened to over the summer. “I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Are you a freshman?”

The boy lights up, and soon he is talking a mile a minute. His name is Cameron, and he's sixteen like her — which surprised her, given his small stature — but this is his first year of attending Wawanakwa High after being homeschooled all his life. Apparently his mother was obsessively overprotective of her only son and as a result, Cameron was what was known as a “bubble boy”. He was sweet though, and eager, even though he lacked any real world experience he was quite knowledgeable in academics.

By the time Cameron kindly offers her some hand sanitizer, Zoey is estatic to find that she has made her first real friend of the year.

Their conversation comes to a natural lull and Zoey busies herself organizing her backpack and pulling out the notebook she will need for the class.

Officially, chemistry should have already started, but none of the seniors pause in their continuous chatter and after waiting for another awkward couple of minutes, Cameron turns and asks a senior, Courtney, where the teacher was. The honors student makes a face, nose wrinkling in a way that makes her freckles scrunch cutely and responds, “Our teacher is Blainely. She never shows up to class on time, no matter how much Principal McLean complains.”

A desk over, a girl named Heather with beautiful, glossy long hair, scoffs in a way that shows her just how much she’s a fan of their teacher and goes back to filing her nails. Zoey wants to compliment her on her hair, but something primal very deep inside of her tells her that any word spoken to her would be met with a nasty comment on her hair.

She goes back to doodling on her own notebook before all of the sudden the door slams open and a harried teen rushes in. He’s holding a pink slip that meant he was coming from the office, and after seeing that the teacher is nowhere in sight, looks for a table.

He lights up as he sees the only open seat on Cameron’s other side and hurries towards it, practically dumping all his belongings on the table as he collapses in his seat.

“Hey,” he says, running his fingers through his spiky hair. “Did class start yet?”

Cameron shook his head no.

“Really? But didn’t class start like —” he glances at the clock, “— ten minutes ago?”

“Well, our teacher for this class is Ms. Blainely, and I heard she doesn't care about tardiness because she's always late.” Zoey reports back what Courtney said to her.

“Can’t see why,” the boy responds flippantly. “We’re as pleasant as all the teachers in the school.”

Zoey feels her cheeks pull up in a grin and she giggles. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”

Blainely slams through the door of her classroom like a typhoon of bravado and too-much confidence for a teacher who was late to her own class by ten minutes. “Alright, you little brats, it’s time for Chemistry!” She sing-songs.

There’s a thunk from behind of Bridgette slamming her head into her table and her deskmate Lindsay sympathetically pats her on the back. A few tables over, Heather fake gags.

Blainely, in her true, characteristic nonchalant fashion, tells them to have at it in mixing the chemicals after barely skimming the safety protocols and handing out labs.

Her, Cameron, and their new teammate work in tandem together, like they’re a well-oiled machine. He cracks jokes with Cameron and laughs with Zoey, and she feels her cheeks getting sore with how much she's grinning.

She hasn't had this much fun in a long time. Their new teammate is charismatic. And cute. And nice. Zoey didn’t really have a type, but if she did …

Well. It would probably be him.

From over Cameron’s head where he’s chattering, Zoey chances a peek at the boy to see him already watching her. Her heart leaps in surprise and she can’t help but stare at him even after he quickly glances away. Does she have pen ink on her face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Zoey opens her mouth to ask, but before she could —

The bell rings.

The students stir and begin packing their bags with vigor, chatter filling the air as the last class of the day is finished. Cameron bids them goodbye and leaves quickly, and Zoey waves as he practically sprints towards the door, saying something about his mom picking him up.

She spots the boy beginning to pack his bag with the new chemistry papers and realizes amongst all the fun they had together, she has yet to learn his name.

“Hey,” Zoey smiles over the space at the boy. “My name is Zoey.”

The boy blinks, then gives her this big, beautiful, beaming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. Zoey feels her heart skip a beat, then trip and stumble and crash against her ribcage at the sight of it. Oh boy.

“I'm … Mike.”

* * *

Svetlana ⭐️✨

(This is my design of Svetlana)

I was inspired by this piece, so I wanted to make my own movie poster piece based around Mike and the others.

(The art piece by @sadamitusw is amazing! I love how all the characters look, and the overall design! So I decided to make a piece inspired by it.)

october means that it's time for halloween posting

Thanks for the mention!

Anyway, here are my comfort characters:

Oblina from AAAHH!!! Real Monsters!!! (She’s such a dork, I love it)

And

Svetlana from Total Drama Revenge of the Island/All Stars (She’s so cute, and I love every moment she’s on screen)

Both are strong girls who can kick ass, and I love them for it. 💕💕💕💕

Anyway, I’m tagging @strange-doll-child @sproutflora23 @spooky-bear15 @mochaclaws and @ anyone else who want to join in.

alright, i might make this a tagging game. Who are two of you're strangest comfort characters. (as long as you consider them strange, they can qualify! <3) Heres mine:

Characters: Rodger Rabbit and Betty Boop. Tagging: @tasteless-tea, @shellspringcave, @booksofstars, @xxc00l-k1dzxx and @dorykinny

Here's the page of mikes I promised!! THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH RIP MY WRIST 😓👍

Again, tysm for 10 followers Im really grateful!!

I started working on this a while ago for when I got 5 followers but never finished, but I finished it today for 10 followers!!

mal + svetlana art yippeee

trash quality but.....

i love my baes <333

i found the paper where i tried to explain svetlana lore 2 my friend on call

i saw a dating headcanon list of a few characters i like, so i wanted to do some w/ the mike gang!!!!

no projecting my own romantic desires at all

mike:

flustered embarrassed mess if u suddenly kissed him or smth

sighs dreamily thinking abt u like an anime girl

cringy lines (affectionate)

slightly more inclined to tell u his secrets

"i saw this n, uhm, thought of u... i hope u like it..." then presents u w/ the most wholesome thought-out gift ever

vito

big ego but compliments abt personality break him (positively)

shows u off to his friends

acts playboyish n tough, but his undying love for u is obvious

"when yall in love but a little slow"

when shopping says "anything for my girl" n then forgets to bring money

svetlana

invites u to practice gymnastics w/ her

constantly checks in on ur health n wellbeing

encourages u to touch grass

drops romantic russian compliments sometimes

does ur makeup regardless of gender

manitoba

lots of flirts but means what compliments he says

teaches u australian slang lore

shows u his fav views n places

road trip > plane

mal

melts from affection overload

acts tough but cares

says violent stuff sometimes like "i would stab some1 for u" (/ref) but thats just his way of saying he cares

says cringy villain lines abt how evil n cool he is while snuggling or smth

little spoon little spoon little spoon (cuz he likes taking a break from being malevolent)

(platonic) chester

thinks of u as a grandchild/child

would rant to u n then be secretly happy when u listen

tsundere old man

gives u old books as gifts

did i do these right erm....

anyone know where my drawing skills went

yes i draw on the back of old homework sheets what abt it

nvm guys i found my art skills again

new math sheet alert

happy pride month guys

here is a humble offering for our fav trans queen

oh yeah mal is there too

super epic comics i made on call :3

mikesys x zoey save me........... they are my everything............

guys i think i got the wrong all stars......

my super cool ideas for another all stars

doesnt feature any of the gen 1 contestants bc they have waaaay too much content (except for eva)

pi n roti contestants only

roti contestants r

possibly zoey - she would finally aquire a brain n we learn more abt her to make her a more interesting character (also zoey x mikesys would become canon)

anne maria - vito n her can officially break up from their abusive relationship

staci - we realize she was telling the truth the entire time

jo - uhhhh deviousness

mike - coming back to the island causes his alters to wake up from dormancy (including mal)

vito - confronts anne maria abt their past relationship (n how she left him for a rock)

svetlana - learns to take a break from constant practice

manitoba - "wait... im an indiana jones parody?" n then he doesnt show up again

chester - stays pretty much the same

mal - MAL REDEMPTION ARC MAL REDEMPTION ARC SPHDLWHFKQJLFEKKRJROEK i mean im so normal abt him

dawn - loredrops

pattiquew island contestants r

max - pretty much fangirls over the malevolent 1 n becomes his "student," n then when mal redemption arc happens hes like "wait... does this mean the student has become the teacher?!"

ella - becomes besties w/ dawn

sky - gets a rivalry w/ svetlana

beardo - mews 24/7

dave - tries to get over his fear of germs

shawn - helps dave get over his fear of germs (by exposure therapy)

(if any1 is doing an all stars 2 fic, n likes these ideas, plsss let me know i wanna b a grammar editor pls i swear im actually an expert at grammar)

alright everyone. its time for the long awaited mikesys headcanons!!

(no applause)

uh anyway (warning spoilers for my fic that i have not posted) (also most hc r based off of real evidence!!)

chester:

introject of dead father

he acts like what a 5 year olds perspective of what an old man is bc young mike never rlly knew his father

formed first

can b as secretive as mike for some topics

loves rlly old books n cares for them like theyre babies

does care abt the system a lot, he just doesnt show it easily

is actually rlly good at masking

is "too old for love"

color i chose for him is gray

svetlana:

trans n lesbian!!!!!!

physical protector

formed 3rd, around the same time as manitoba

showed up bc the sys' not mentally stable mom was pushing them too much into their gymnastics (also she prob wanted a girl)

has trouble w/ taking breaks from practice

loves "girly" stuff like dressing up n makeup

trash at masking

color i chose for her is pink

vito:

trauma holder, but calls himself the "social protector"

remembers all the physical trauma

has dysthymia (which im pretty sure is like major depression, but its less severe n lasts way longer)

last to form

beats himself up abt anne marias whole "left u for a rock" thing

wears a mask w/ a smile for hours at a time

actually rlly sweet n caring

hates his physical appearance

writes poems (this isnt shown in the show i just think it would b funky)

decent at masking

showed up cuz mike got rejected by the only person who cared abt him

color i chose for him is red

manitoba:

internal self helper

not a fictive, hes just like that

based his whole personality on old australian sexist movies

secretly thinks its funny when ppl dont understand his australian slang

least traumatized

color is light brown

mal:

persecutor + trauma holder (but then bc of a real redemption arc that really occured hes now just a protector + trauma holder)

remembers all the mental trauma

reset button? what reset button? systems cant just reset their brain, silly

trash at cooking, like anything can be burnt to a crisp

listens to breakcore (specifically breakcore covers of classical songs)

was y the system went to juvie

main host for the entire time there

hated it after a while

like many former persecutors, he thought what he was doing was best for the body

doesnt actually hate the system (except for mike i mean what)

secretly enjoyed it when zoey treated him lovingly cuz she thought he was mike

color is dark blue

vocaloid songs that fit td characters (ignoring most of the lyrics)

draculove by ladymonsters - shawn. ignoring the lyrics, the vibes fit ig n i can imagine an amv to it

coin locker baby by maretu + dolls fall by ladymonsters - mal. 1st: i imagined an amv n it fit rlly well w/ the sort of carnival-like beginning. 2nd: do i need to even explain y

binomi by maretu + fruiting bodies by riproducer - mike. 1st: it was part of the "hmmm which maretu songs fit the mikesys" n i already thought of an amv bc ofc i did. 2nd: look at the lyrics its just him.......

mummy by ladymonsters - maybe noah. idk vibes fit

bride of franken by ladymonsters + ぽっかんカラー by kikuo - zoey. vibes n amv imagined

triple baka by like 3 ppl - cameron. bc its the trio!!!

rabbit hole by deco*27 - either alejandro or vito. for the memes

igaku (specifically the cover by trickle) - sierra. lyrics r so her n ofc i imagined an amv to it

my bread was burnt to a crisp by picdo + aishite aishite (specifically the english cover by jubiphonic if thats how u spell it) - svetlana. 1st: uhh vibes n the sorta depressing mood of the whole song w/ the simple lyrics. 2nd: part of my super epic fanfiction au thing where they all get angst

trying to b able to draw mikesys perfectly b4 my summer camp thing in a few days so i can cover the cabins w/ images of mal

my mom wants me to draw smth for her to hang behind her during online meetings